The smut in this chapter has been toned down in language...quite a bit. Please visit my livejournal (sakaim(DOT)livejournal(DOT)com) and see my sticky post for this chapter (six) if you wish to read the dirty version of it. I have cut some of the filthier language around the scene, and a huge chunk of it was cut out where you see the two dividers. Visit my journal then.
Now, Sakai Michiba presents:
Sectumsempra Animi
Chapter Six
Harry was lying miserably on the couch in the drawing room where he was woken up in love with Draco, avoiding the gazes of his two best friends. They were sitting on the floor beside the couch, frowning gently at him, and Hermione's hand was running over his back, rubbing and caressing in what she hoped was a soothing manner. Harry had the ratty old pillow in his arms and was clutching it to his chest, looking fixedly at the cushions on the back of the couch as she touched him, and he wondered what Draco was doing. "Harry," Hermione whispered, and she smiled when he flipped his head over and looked into her eyes, his own rimmed with red. He had been crying until Ron and Hermione had shown up.
Hermione sighed as Harry squeezed his eyes shut, and she ran her fingers up his spine and touched his hair. "Harry, Narcissa could have resisted. She could have just refused to be budged…" Hermione and Ron had not gone to the Ministry at Harry's request, but Tonks had told them what happened. "But she didn't. She didn't want her son killed any more than…than you did." Tonks had told her how beautiful it had been when Harry had shoved Narcissa in front of the spell, whether Draco realised it or not.
Harry opened his eyes again and stared at Hermione. She really had no idea what she was talking about, he thought, and he sat up to look down at them. "I have to go see Draco," he whispered, but both Ron and Hermione held onto his knees to prevent him from getting up. "What are you doing?!" he demanded, and he tried to push their hands off of him. "Let me go! I need to tell him…tell him what happened."
"He was there, Harry! He saw what happened!" Hermione whispered in a pleading voice. "Don't go up there —he'll try his hardest to hurt you! He's really, really upset, Harry…"
"Wouldn't you be?!" Harry demanded, and he slammed his fist down against the cushions of the couch. He was still dressed in the robes he had worn at the Ministry, which were torn in places. "Besides, he was hit with the Severing Hex —he's bleeding internally— and he needs me. He'll die unless he's taken care of!"
"Snape's already been to him," Ron muttered, hatred dripping like snake's venom from his voice at the mention of their old Potions master. "There's no need for you to go right now, Harry, unless you're looking for a fight."
Harry groaned in frustration and pushed them away with his feet. They just did not understand, did not know how he felt for Draco, could not understand the intricate relationship between them. Sure, they had walked in on he and Draco snogging last week, but they probably thought that Draco was controlling him or had him under the influence of some sort of love potion, and that was ridiculous. He would remember if Draco had forced him to drink a love potion, after all. "There is more need for me to go right now than you understand," Harry growled, the first sparks of anger igniting inside of him. "So let. Me. Go."
Hermione and Ron looked at one another and sighed before they stood up and stepped aside. Harry got to his feet as well and stared at them for a few moments before he nodded to them and left the drawing room.
Draco felt like such a child, lying upstairs in his bed with the blankets wound around his body and the pillow clutched to his chest. Ever since Snape had been in to heal his injuries, he had been hopelessly tangled up in the sheets, staring at the flame of the oil lamp for so long that the yellow light was burned into his vision. He was ashamed that Snape had seen him crying, and he had been unable to meet his godfather's eyes while he was fed potions and spells were whispered over him.
"Draco," Snape had said, and he had rubbed Draco's stomach soothingly in a gesture unlike anything Draco had ever known from the man. "Your mother would have resisted Potter if she had wanted to. She knew what was happening. Your mother was never taken by surprise by anything, and you know that." He closed his eyes to allow Draco some dignity as the boy threw his arm over his face and hid his eyes in his elbow, sobbing loudly. "It will hurt less in time."
"NO IT WON'T!" Draco had yelled hoarsely, and Severus had been rather taken aback by that statement. Draco had waved his hand, wanting Snape gone, and the man had complied. The moment that Snape was gone, Draco had screamed into his pillow until his throat was raw.
He heard the knock at his door but did not acknowledge it, instead closing his eyes and sobbing silently into the pillow. When the door opened and no words were spoken, he cracked his right eye open and saw Potter standing there, cheeks flushed and fists clenched. Fury and outrage swelled up inside of Draco, and he miraculously disentangled himself from the sheets in seconds and had his wand at the ready. "Come to kill me, too?!" he hissed, eyes narrowed as Potter advanced slowly on him.
"Of course not, Draco," Harry whispered, and he reached up to touch Draco's wand. The wood was burning against his fingers, but he did not pull away, and he pushed Draco's wand aside. "Draco, are you all r—"
"No, I'm not all right!" Draco screeched, and he dropped his wand in favour of drawing his hand back and punching Potter as hard as he could in the jaw. Harry yelped and stumbled back, and Draco used the moment of weakness to his advantage. He gave a positively visceral scream and leapt on Harry, knocking him to the ground and pummelling him with his fists, sobbing desperately as he knocked the breath out of Harry. Harry's arms lifted to protect his face, but Draco forced them apart and punched him in the nose, breaking it with ease, and Harry howled in pain. "You killed her, you bastard! You fucking killed my mum; you deserve it!"
"I DO DESERVE IT!" Harry yelled thickly, tears spilling over his cheeks not because of the pain of the punches to his chest and his face or the agony of the broken nose, but because he could feel every scream and every sob escaping Draco's mouth as though it were ripping through his very essence of being. He tried reaching for Draco, tried to bring him down, to pin him to his chest and stop him hitting and breaking, but he could not seem to catch him.
Molly was standing at the bottom of the stairs, listening to the screaming and the dull thud of skin-on-skin she knew had to be punches, and she started up the stairs, but it was Severus who grabbed her arm and gave her a stern look. "Molly," he warned quietly, "leave them, all right? Potter can take care of himself, and Draco won't hurt him too badly."
"Are you certain?" Molly asked, concern etched into every line of her face, and when Severus nodded, she sighed and stepped away from the stairs. "Severus, what's going on between them? Do you know? No one else can figure out what has… occurred between them."
Severus's face hardened and he looked away from the short woman. "I think I have an idea, Molly, but I am uncomfortable with sharing it presently. Do not be too concerned…I believe that it will fix itself in time." He considered touching her shoulder, but he refrained and walked away from her instead, continuing on his path to the kitchen. As much as he resented Draco for placing Potter under the influence of Sectumsempra Animi, Severus knew that the potion had, ultimately, saved his life down there in the Ministry of Magic. He could not resent him any longer for that.
Harry choked as Draco punched him fiercely in the stomach, and he reached up to swipe blood and tears from his face before he tried to unseat Draco from his thighs, lifting one leg sharply and toppling him off to the right. Draco shrieked in rage and tried to fly at him again, but Harry, blood dripping from his chin and one eye beginning to swell and turn purple, launched himself at Draco and knocked him to the floor onto his back. Draco was wailing and thrashing, his hands attempting to reach up and claw at Harry's face, but Harry pinned his arms down with his knees and leaned his weight heavily on them. "STOP IT! STOP IT, POTTER!" Draco was bellowing, and Harry screwed up his face before he did the hardest thing he had ever done in his entire life.
He reached back to gain momentum and slapped Draco Malfoy across the face as hard as he possibly could.
The screaming stopped immediately, and Draco's eyes widened in complete shock, tears dripping from the corners of his eyes. Harry choked and whimpered, though he did not release Draco from the floor, and he shakily ran his hand through Draco's hair. "D-Draco, I… you were hurting me," he stuttered, and he watched as Draco's face absolutely crumpled into desperate, pathetic sobs. Harry closed his eyes and heaved a deep sigh before he slowly climbed off of Draco and helped him off of the floor, pulling him close into a tight embrace. "Shhh…"
Draco moaned and drew back trembling, lifting his wand and pointing it at Harry again, but he did not look to be aiming to hex Harry, so Harry stayed still as Draco repaired his nose and eye with a few basic healing spells he must have learned with the Death Eaters. "I-I-I'm sorry, P-Potter," he choked, and he began to turn away to go back to bed, but Harry caught him from behind and drew him back, hugging him to his chest and dropping his head onto Draco's shoulder.
"Don't apologise to me, Malfoy," Harry murmured, and he kissed the nape of Draco's neck with tear-moistened lips. Draco hung his head, and Harry kissed each vertebra that poked upward against the white skin. He noticed for the first time that there was a mole just beneath Draco's hairline, and he kissed it as well, one hand coming up to lift Draco's hair away from his head so he could kiss along his hairline. The little hairs on the nape of Draco's neck lifted and gooseflesh raised along the path Harry was kissing. Draco felt dizzy, and he leaned heavily back against Harry's chest. He slid his arms back around the other's waist, the backs of his hands resting against Harry's spine, and he traced one of the vertebrae with the second knuckle of his right index finger. "I… I'm the one who should be sorry, but you have so much more to offer than your mother did. You can make a difference, Draco... Narcissa had given up."
Draco shook his head silently, but Harry nipped his earlobe. "She had, and you know it. She never left her room even though we did our best to persuade her; she was miserable living like this, but there was no other choice. I know that doesn't make it hurt any less for you, but we're… we're all selfish, Draco. Sometimes, we must live for ourselves."
Draco gave a low sob and turned in Harry's arms, sliding his arms around his neck and burying his face in Harry's shoulder. Harry sat down on the bed and pulled Draco into his lap, arms wrapped around him holding him securely on his thighs. Draco let Harry dry his tears with his shirt, and when his cheeks were suitably tear-free, he looked up into Harry's eyes and forgot to be cruel, forgot to be angry about their past, and he wrapped his right arm around Harry's neck with a tired expression.
Harry chewed his lower lip for a moment before he took a deep breath and leaned down to press his lips to Draco's without fear for the first time. Draco moaned and wrapped his other arm around Harry's neck, kissing back with complete, consuming desperation. The pure emotion radiating off of Draco would have made Harry weak in the knees had he been standing, and he lifted his wand from the bed, flicking it to shut the bedroom door before he pulled Draco backwards on the bed and lay back comfortably on the mattress. The shift of weight caused Draco to nearly fall off of him, but Harry helped him right himself, and a moment later they were pressed flush together, spread out on the bed with Harry's knees lifted to either side of Draco's body. One of his feet lifted and rubbed a line back and forth over the back of Draco's thigh as they explored one another's mouths. Draco tasted of the tears he had been crying out for several hours, and Harry tasted slightly coppery —some blood from his broken nose had trickled down his throat— as his tongue boldly pressed into Draco's mouth and mapped out every tooth, traced every dip and ridge of the hard palate. A low moan reverberated in the kiss, and Harry was unsure as to whom it belonged to.
Draco let himself get lost, completely lost, in Harry for the first time without the potion or their past niggling at the back of his mind. He could feel Harry's heartbeat pounding against his chest, feel the pull of the blankets beneath them as Harry's hands grabbed fistfuls of it before coming up and burying in his blond hair, feel the groan bubbling up from Harry's lungs before it ever sounded, and the sensations of the sounds and the tastes and every little feeling made him ache with want —not need— for Harry. Time was speeding up and slowing down at a maddening pace; their kisses lasted for years, their eyes locked for halves of seconds, and then time would flip sickeningly and Draco could count the flecks of hazel in green eyes a million times over before either of them moved again.
The world around them was a blur of half-darkness, the oil lamp that had held watch over their last rendezvous flickering steadily on as it had before. Silent questions between them deafened Draco.
Do you love me?
Yes, yes, and you, you love me, don't you?
For now, for now.
A passion unlike any Draco had ever known was stoking itself at every brush of skin, at every kiss and sharp exhalation, and his head was spinning. They were not even naked; shirts were still buttoned, socks were still firmly in place, and he was groaning as though he was buried balls-deep in Harry, the sensations were so incredibly exhilarating. Fingers in his hair were clutching at his scalp, grasping at the roots of his hair and tugging ever-so-gently, and he seized Harry's hair in return, testing the texture between his fingers and pulling so sharply that Harry's mouth was torn from his with a hoarse, guttural moan.
Do you trust me?
Fuck, fuck, more than anything…
Time flipped again as Draco's lips attached to the soft flesh of Harry's neck, and he could feel his teeth slowly, achingly slowly, pressing down into the softness. He could taste individual hairs on his tongue, on his gums, and he felt the muscle below the flesh twitch in slow motion. He could not hear Harry whimpering his name, but he felt the vibration of Harry's throat against his cheek and knew the syllables, and he whispered Harry's name, chanted it, against the skin he was accosting with his tongue and teeth. He sucked hard, pulling blood to the surface of the skin, and when his mark was made, he dragged his lips up the angular jaw-line below Harry's ear and nipped it, feeling the stubble and licking the rough patch with something skin to affection.
Harry's ear was slightly sour to the taste as Draco traced the shell, up and around and down and in, then out, up, behind. He pressed the pressure point behind the lobe with the flat of his tongue and time snapped back to its normal pace with Harry's gasp. His teeth snagged the lobe and tugged it gently, releasing when the tension was too much, and his hand tightened in Harry's hair as he dipped his tongue into the ear, making Harry call out loudly and grab Draco's shoulder frantically. "Draco, Draco, Draco…" It must have been too much, and Draco separated his mouth from Harry's ear to brush the wings of their noses together, and he stared down into his eyes again, panting against Harry's parted lips. He could feel the air move when Harry's tongue darted out to moisten his lips then Draco's, and Draco's hand loosened its grip on black hair and slid down Harry's right side, finding the hem of his shirt and lifting it, slithering beneath it to caress the warm curve of his side.
Harry's eyelids fluttered and he cupped Draco's cheek, feeling the hints of rough stubble there, and he ran his thumbnail against the grain, feeling the tiny blond hairs snapping back into place when his thumb passed over them. Draco's left hand lifted and pulled his glasses off, setting them with a soft clack on the nightstand, and Harry could see nothing but him, nothing but the grey eyes so sharply in focus before him, and he tugged on Draco's shirt, wanting it gone. Draco just barely nodded, and he tore their foreheads apart to pull his nightshirt over his head and throw it aside. The muscles beneath the skin of his chest flexed and stretched with the movement, and Harry watched the rolling movement —slightly blurred from his point of view— in adoration. Draco's fingers made quick work of Harry's buttons, and he pulled Harry into a sitting position by his collar before he threw the button-down out of sight into the darkness.
They fell to the mattress again together, now on their sides and facing one another, and Draco was invading Harry's mouth again with his tongue, every movement slow and calculated as his tongue writhed with Harry's, circling it and flicking against it and driving Harry absolutely up the wall with arousal. Draco's stomach was so soft and warm against his, the rough curls trailing down from his bellybutton lining up precisely with Harry's until one of Draco's thighs moved between both of Harry's. The weight was heavy and comforting, and Harry thought Draco would roll on top of him again, but instead he did the very opposite, bringing Harry on top and letting him take the lead for now.
It was a welcome change, and Harry broke the fierce kiss to bite and lick his way down Draco's chest. The pink nipples firmed up beneath the onslaught of his tongue and teeth, and he breathed cool air across each in turn before he hooked his fingers on the waistband of Draco's pyjamas. He continued his steady path south, following the dip of the line separating Draco's abs to his bellybutton, his strange little bellybutton. He touched it with the tip of his nose then the tip of his tongue, and Draco whimpered, arched his back into the sinful kiss, and his hands were in Harry's hair again. "I love you," Harry breathed against the skin, but it did not ruin the effect for Draco this time. No, he needed someone, anyone, to love him, even if he did not necessarily love them back in the way the other might want. No, they were the perfect words to say, and Draco sobbed, tears making an encore appearance and dripping down the creases at the corners of his eyes, and one of Harry's hands reached up, fingers catching several of the tears with care. Draco seized the proffered hand and kissed the palm wetly, tracing the life line and love line with his tongue as Harry's other hand pulled down his pyjamas to find that Draco wore nothing underneath.
The head of Draco's cock nudged the bottom of Harry's chin, and Draco blushed lightly as Harry moved to take it in his mouth. Harry had sucked him off before, but it had never been like this, never in the middle of what could be considered nothing other than lovemaking, for Merlin's sake, and the motion was so full of consideration and adoration and a thousand other '–ation's that Draco's vision went spotty when Harry's tongue dipped into the slit at the very tip of his cock to sample the drop of pre-ejaculate that quivered there. His toes curled as smooth, moistened lips slid firmly over the spongy head and just under the foreskin before he opened his mouth just slightly wider to accommodate the change in girth. Draco's cock twitched in his mouth when he had taken it in as much as he could, until he could taste a slick, salty droplet sliding down the back of his throat, and he drew his head back before pushing forward again, his tongue working all the while.
Draco spread his legs and made a hard, breathy sound from the back of his throat as Harry pumped his cock with his lips, and he was careful not to jerk his hips up every time he hit the back of Harry's throat. There were fingers tickling carefully across his testicles, and he shivered when Harry let the shaft fall from his mouth to dip his mouth lower, taking the delicate sac between his lips and sucking it into his mouth. His right hand came up to continue the job his mouth had been performing, fingers curling lovingly around the shaft, and Draco made that strange sound in the back of his throat again before he sat up on his elbows and sucked two of Harry's fingers into his mouth. Harry moaned thickly and arched his hips against the mattress, his thumb swiping over the crown of Draco's cock as he let the warm flesh fall from between his lips. He nudged the sac aside and flicked his tongue over Draco's perineum, and Draco's eyes snapped open with the shuddering moan than fluttered through him. He dropped Harry's fingers from his mouth. "H-Harry…"
Harry's eyes squeezed closed —it was the first time Draco had ever called him anything other than 'Potter' or some derisive nickname— and he wanted to savour the moment. Then Draco's hands were seizing him under his arms, and he was being pulled back up and over Draco's body. Their lips and tongues clashed hard as Draco's hands made short work of the button fly of Harry's denim trousers, and soon they were being shoved down over his hips. Harry assisted in kicking them off and away, and Draco was rolling with him again, pinning him to the mattress and moaning sweetly into his mouth before he suddenly broke the kiss and slithered down Harry's body with the grace of a cat. Harry's eyes widened the second before it happened as he realised what Draco was going to do, and when Draco's mouth closed over him, he yelled Draco's name out into the rafters of the old house, legs as far apart as they could comfortably go.
Draco had never done anything like this, but then again, he supposed, Potter never had before that first time in the corridor either, and he had certainly done fine. He also had no intention of making Harry come from this alone, but judging by the repeated, gasping moans escaping Harry's lips, he would have had no trouble doing that, either. He did not mean to linger, and so he bestowed a few long, well-deserved licks along Harry's cock before he slid lower, but instead of licking Harry's testicles or perineum, he rolled Harry's hips up with his hands and, surprising himself, really, swiped his tongue over Harry's arse.
Harry squeaked. The sound was so ridiculous that he released a torrent of slightly-hysterical laughter before he could calm down enough to properly blush, and he threw one of his arms over his head with another small yelp as Draco did it again, and he was cursing and growling out Draco's name with enthusiasm he had never shown for anything. He could feel Draco chuckling, and he very nearly mocked him in exasperation, but he was speechless, breathless.
Ron and Hermione stared blankly at one another at the sound of Harry's voice ringing out through Grimmauld Place, and Hermione cleared her throat a bit. "I'll just go… place a Silencing Charm on the room, shall I?" Ron nodded enthusiastically, and she got up, cheeks a fiery red, to do just that. Ron slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand and groaned.
When Draco came back up over Harry, Harry was shaking and gasping for breath, one trembling hand coming up to cup Draco's chin. "Fuck me, Draco, for fuck's sake," he begged, and he nearly sobbed with relief when Draco reached for the jar of lube he kept in the nightstand.
Afterward, he collapsed on top of Harry and buried his face in his neck, struggling to catch his breath and clinging to the boy beneath him, who clung back as hard as he could. When Harry repeated his love for Draco against his ear for the second time since they had begun, Draco nodded and sobbed and kissed him deeply, reluctant to pull out of him and even more reluctant to let go.
Hermione frowned at Draco over the breakfast table the next morning, seeing the exhaustion in his eyes and, in contradiction, the faint smile on his lips. Harry was sitting next to him, eyes fixed on Malfoy's face, and it was not only annoying her, it seemed, for Draco elbowed Harry in the side. "Quit staring at me, for fuck's sake," he growled, but his eyes were shining and there was a hint of playfulness to his voice that made Harry grin at him. Hermione wondered what Harry could possibly have said the night before to entice Malfoy out of his sobbing misery to sex, to this display of playful sadness before her, and she cleared her throat. "Malfoy, could we have a talk alone when you're finished?"
Harry blinked and looked up at her, cocking his head to the side a bit. "Why?" he asked, and Hermione gave him a hard look.
"I didn't ask you, Harry," she stated matter-of-factly, and she ignored the slightly hurt look on Harry's face to meet Draco's eyes over his plate of eggs. "So will you, Malfoy? In the drawing room?"
So, fifteen minutes later, Draco was walking alone into the drawing room, where Hermione was sitting and staring out the window, her foot tapping irritably against the rug. Draco cocked an eyebrow at her then closed the door behind him, casting an Imperturbable Charm on the door before he fixed his attention on one of the antique-filled cabinets in the room. He spotted his mother's family crest and felt his heart ache. "What's all this stuff, Granger?" he asked, shooting her a look over his shoulder.
"Kreacher managed to save quite a bit of what we threw out before fifth year," Hermione said shortly, and she gave a bit of a shrug. "If we try to throw any of it out, he manages to get it back, so we let him get on with it. It's better than him muttering all the time, the poor thing."
Draco wrinkled his nose at her pitying house-elves —as though they needed pity— but remained silent even when he felt her get up behind him. "Malfoy," she sighed, and he stiffened a little, seeing her reflection in the glass. She reminded him of a young McGonagall, and it left a bitter taste in his mouth. "Look, what are you doing with Harry?"
He knew he should have been expecting this. Of course they suspected—Potter was absolutely obsessed with him and had been for over a month now. He could not quite recall how long it had been, but he supposed that it was of little importance. Right now, he needed Potter and his adoration to mend the gaping hole created by the death of Narcissa, and he would not give an antidote until he was feeling better, if ever. He really felt no need to cater to Snape's whims. "I don't know what you're talking about," he muttered, and he opened one of the cabinet doors to begin searching through the things. "This is a really fucking nice goble—"
"Don't feed me that shite, Malfoy!" she exclaimed angrily, and she came up beside him, glowering. "I heard you two last night, and that wasn't the first time! What spells have you got him under?!"
He snorted at her and glanced over to meet her eyes. "Look, Mudblood, I don't need spells or potions to win over idiots like Potter. Did it ever occur to you that maybe —just maybe— he fell in love with me on his own?" He set down the silver goblet he had been inspecting then buried himself deeper in the cabinet. "You could sell this stuff for a tonne of Galleons…"
"That doesn't matter!" she sighed, and she tried to close the cabinet door on him, but he resisted and reached back further into it. "He wouldn't have just…fallen in love with you, Malfoy. He hates you, for Merlin's sake…Would you get out of there already?!"
He rolled his eyes and glared at her. "Thin line, Granger. Love, hate, that whole business…Careful, or you'll be the one sucking my dick next." She let out a squeal of outrage and he smirked, his fingers brushing something in the back of the deep shelves and pushing it just out of reach. He leaned further in, knocking a few pewter items over in his path.
"I would never, not in a million years, Malfoy!" she hissed, repulsed by the very thought, and she seized the back of his robes, hauling his backward out of the cabinet. "Get out of there, damn it! I…I…D-Draco…"
He flipped around snarling at her, the object he had just retrieved dangling on its chain from his fingers. "What the fuck, Granger?" he hissed, and he looked down at the heavy locket hanging from his hand. She was pointing at it frantically, her other hand over her mouth, and he blinked, confused at her, before looking down at the ornate snake curled into a distinct 's' adorning the front of the locket. "Er…What's wrong?"
"Regulus Black," she whispered, and she literally leapt into the air. "Harry! Harry, get in here! R.A.B. was Regulus Black, of course!" She was screaming then, and Draco was back up against the cabinet, eyes wide in fear. His mind wandered back to a book he had read as a child, When Mudbloods Go Mad, and the gruesome pictures were flickering over his corneas when Harry burst into the room and looked between them for a moment before his eyes fell on the locket. He seized the doorframe for support then looked at Draco, who was looking shell-shocked, and he launched himself at him, arms wrapping around Draco's neck a moment before he pressed their lips together in complete, maddening joy.