Title: Downfall
Author: tigersilver
Characters: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): Poetical descriptors.
Word Count: 241

Prompt: hd_seasons – 13 Nights of Smut, Prompt #3 (Dementor; touch)

Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.

Summary: There's always another Circle yet lower. But falling may not be as awful as it's made out to be.

Harry howled. It hurt so good, it slayed him.

Blond-and-ice-white through and through, pale and grasping; like some venal mythic Vurm from the depths of Wagnerian Hell, Malfoy scrabbled and clawed his way up the classroom wall to find purchase, spreading his thighs wide as they could go—tilting up his lily-white arse and parting his scarlet-smeared lips and fucking hissing for it. For Harry. For Harry's cock.

"Potter! Potter—now!"

Demon. Dementor. The hungry abyss of dark shame and blood-passion that claimed Harry Potter without a single, contrary murmur. Harry Potter, that shining example of vaunted Gryffindor courage, of gleaming Gryffindor might over mere matter. But all of that nonsense, Potter!—in the bitter end; down at the final fishgut-thin tripwire—it mattered not at all; not a one of his gold-plated principles or his hidebound passed-down dictums. Words made no never mind before Malfoy. Words were bloody useless.

It was only touch (sloppy, steamy, endlessly fiery fingertips seeking, warming; clenched arse that sucked cock like quicksand; quicksilver forked tongue that left its victims reeling and souless)—only touch that reached Harry, now. Malfoy touch. Slicing through all the walls and the veils and the confusion, through his unshed tears and his friend's hopeful expectations and the shattered crystal balls of other's dire prophecy, there was only this one real thing remaining.

Malfoy. Ice-cold, pale blond, with hands as frigid as a Dementor's to the touch and an inferno trapped inside. Only just…Malfoy.

Fin