Word Count: 2668
Warnings: Complicated consent
Summary: "Harry hated being tied up; it brought back terrible memories. In the back of his mind, however, a small voice expressed gratitude for the ropes."
A/N: So much gratitude to my wonderful, extremely smart and helpful betas, annephoenix and browneydweasley!
Harry couldn’t stop thinking about Draco Malfoy. He’d been seeking him for months, analysing the reports coming in to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and mulling over everything he knew about the fugitive. Harry had killed Voldemort, captured Bellatrix Lestrange and come to terms with Severus Snape, but Malfoy continued to haunt him. It was the final bit of unfinished business that kept Harry from being able to sleep at night. He’d flip through Malfoy’s case file, examining the photographs – young Malfoy, flying above the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch in his green robes, Malfoy peeking out from behind a tree in the background at his father’s funeral, Malfoy sneering and holding up two fingers to the camera before he Disapparated out of Knockturn Alley.
There was one photo, a close up of Malfoy’s face, which Harry found particularly mesmerising. Draco was looking directly at the camera, his grey eyes hardly blinking, his chin tilted downwards. His lips were slightly parted revealing his teeth and a loose lock of white-blond hair fell over his forehead. Harry would stare at the photo, willing himself to see into Malfoy’s mind, to figure out where he was and what he was doing. The edges of the photos were starting to curl and tear from the cumulative hours that Harry spent handling them.
Malfoy had blossomed during the war years. He’d been responsible for numerous deaths and tortures – made quite a name for himself. Harry had kept a close watch on his activities. After Voldemort’s fall, however, Malfoy had disappeared from sight. One by one, the other Death Eaters had been captured and killed or incarcerated. Malfoy, however, remained at large.
Then, about a year after the war had ended, the Aurors Office had started receiving reports that Draco Malfoy had been seen entering and exiting the Forbidden Forest. Harry couldn’t believe that Malfoy would be stupid enough to hide somewhere he was so likely to be spotted. The reports were consistent, however, and finally Moody told Harry to just go and check things out, to leave him alone and stop pestering him, already. So Harry did. He flew to Hogsmeade on his broom and crept into the forest, his wand out and ready. He expected to have to search for Malfoy. He expected a chase and a battle. He was even looking forward to it. In fact, he had to stop and calm himself before he entered the forest, so great was his sense of anticipation.
But there was no chase or battle. Instead, he found Malfoy leaning casually against a tree, gazing up at the sky and twirling his wand in his fingers. It looked as if he’d been waiting; as if Malfoy had been expecting him. Harry felt a familiar sensation spread through his chest. It was enough for Malfoy to just stand there carelessly. That was all it took to bring to the surface the bubbling anger that Harry had been carrying around inside himself for years.
Malfoy was thinner than he had been at school, and his face had lost some of its boyish petulance. It had been replaced by something Harry couldn’t quite put his finger on, something hard and vital. This wasn’t the broken, desperate man Harry had thought he would find. Malfoy’s posture was graceful and confident.
Harry ground his teeth together and stepped forwards. His anger was distracting him. That wasn’t good. A twig snapped beneath his foot, and Malfoy turned to look at him. When he saw Harry, his eyes gleamed.
“Potter. There you are. I heard you’ve been looking for me.” He looked Harry up and down, the corner of his mouth curling upwards.
Harry’s skin prickled under Malfoy’s gaze. “A lot of people have been looking for you, Malfoy,” he said, holding his wand steady.
“I’m a popular bloke.” Malfoy took several steps toward Harry, bold as brass.
Harry hissed at him, “Just stay where you are. Moody told me not to damage you unless I had no choice, but I was never very good at obeying orders.”
“No, you weren’t, were you. You Gryffindors used to get away with murder at school."
“I don’t think it was the Gryffindors who got away with murder,” sneered Harry.
Malfoy cocked his head to the side, never breaking eye contact.
Those eyes, Harry thought. He wanted to fly at Malfoy, to shake him, to break his infuriating air of confidence into a thousand pieces. He felt disturbed, and slightly sick, but he refused to back down. He’d imagined this scene in his head so many times, and it had never gone like this.
Malfoy took another step towards him. Harry almost stepped backwards, but stopped himself. “I’m warning you.” He’d captured four Death Eaters singled handedly and assisted in the capture of many others. He’d killed Voldemort. Why was he letting Malfoy agitate him like this?
Malfoy lowered his chin and gave Harry that same look that Harry vividly remembered from the much gazed upon photograph in Malfoy’s file. He felt his skin go clammy as he realised that he was aroused in a way that was akin to, but also quite dissimilar from, anger.
Malfoy stopped. “Are you frightened, Potter? That’s not very Gryffindor of you.”
“Scared of you? Don’t make me laugh.”
“I don’t think you’re scared of me, Potter,” said Malfoy, quietly. And he started walking towards Harry, boldly, without any sort of hesitation.
Harry cursed and then yelled, “Stupefy!”
Malfoy ducked, and the spell flew over his head, hitting the trunk of a tree and causing an explosion of bark and wood. Malfoy’s wand sliced upwards, and Harry felt a rush of sizzling air pass by his cheek. This was more like it. His blood was pumping now. He leapt towards Malfoy, his teeth bared, crying, “Expelliarmus!”
Malfoy fell backwards into the dirt, his wand flying from his hand. Harry shouted in triumph and jumped onto Malfoy’s prone body, his knees on either side of his chest. He pressed his wand into Malfoy’s cheek, panting.
And Malfoy smiled at him.
Harry flushed. “Funny, is it?”
“Oh, you have no idea how much you amuse me, Potter.”
Harry felt something fluttering on his thigh -- Malfoy’s fingers creeping upwards. He twitched in surprise, his brows creasing. Malfoy squeezed and Harry felt his flesh creep.
He heard Malfoy speak, “Accio wand!”, there was a swooping sound and suddenly the world turned upside down. Harry was hanging in the air, then he was falling, and then he hit the ground. For a moment there was nothing but shimmering blackness. He came to, feeling nauseated and dizzy, and saw Malfoy striding towards him, wand extended. “Wingardium Leviosa!”
Harry was once again airborne, looking down at Malfoy, noticing with horror the shiny length of his own wand lying out of reach in the dust. “No,” he said, as his mind finally began to clear. “No! Jesus! Fuck!” He began to thrash and kick struggling frantically and uselessly against the spell. He was moving backwards; he felt his back hit something. He concentrated with all his might, contracting his muscles, fighting, but he slid slowly down the rough bark of the tree until his feet smacked into the earth.
Malfoy was waiting for him. He quickly smashed the length of his body against Harry’s and forced Harry’s arms behind his back. “Incarcerous!”
Harry’s wrists were bound behind the tree. His breath came fast and shallow. Malfoy took a step away from him. He looked extremely proud of himself.
“I will fucking kill you,” said Harry, spit flying from his mouth. His sweat felt very cold.
“Don’t be like that,” said Malfoy.
“Fuck you!” screamed Harry. “Goddamit! Goddamit!” He kicked at Malfoy with both of his legs and then gasped at the pain this caused in his shoulders and arms.
“Are you done?”
Harry glared at him. He felt giddy and longed to be able to slide down onto the ground.
“Right,” said Malfoy, and licked his lips.
Harry watched Malfoy’s tongue slide out and then back into his mouth, leaving his lips looking slick and shiny. The image was strangely compelling. He suspected that he must be in shock. Harry hated being tied up; it brought back terrible memories. In the back of his mind, however, a small voice expressed gratitude for the ropes. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t escape. He had no choice but to let Malfoy do whatever it was he was going to do. He found that this idea sent a jolt of confusing pleasure through his groin and stomach.
Malfoy slunk down in front of Harry. Without preamble, he grabbed the sides of Harry’s jeans and yanked them down over Harry’s hips, until they were crumpled beneath his knees.
Harry’s mouth and eyes shot wide open. He felt faint. “Oh God. Oh my God.”
Malfoy appraised his crotch, biting his lower lip. Harry imagined he could actually feel heat from Malfoy’s eyes burning his cock. He was already half erect.
Malfoy lifted Harry’s scrotum with the tips of his fingers. He bent forwards and ran his tongue through the delicate, fuzzy skin between Harry’s testicles. Harry squirmed and swore. Malfoy drew his tongue slightly downwards, pushing Harry’s scrotum up further, and fluttered it against the pungent area beneath. He opened his mouth wider and let one of Harry’s testicles fall into it, licking and sucking gently.
Harry’s breath was coming in small, quick gasps. His thighs were trembling.
Malfoy let Harry’s balls drop and wrapped his fingers around the back of Harry’s now very erect cock, pulling it towards his face. He traced its length with the flat of his tongue from its shaft to its tip. He pulled Harry’s foreskin down, exposing his cock’s shiny, red head.
Harry shuddered and gasped, his voice deep in his throat, “What are you doing to me? What are you doing? Stop it.”
“You don’t really want me to stop, do you, Potter?” asked Malfoy. “You don’t want me to stop – you want me to do this…” He opened his lips, took the head of Harry’s cock into his mouth and gave it a quick, hard suck.
Harry made a sound between a squeak and a yell. “Eeeyah! God!” He felt his hips buck forwards. His heart was beating wildly and trickles of sweat crept down his neck.
Malfoy laughed. He let go of Harry’s cock and smoothed the palms of his hands over Harry’s hips and then behind them, until they were cupping his arse. He let his fingertips tease the crack apart, sliding down and inwards.
Harry was shaking, in his body and in his mind. He was disgusted, he was thrilled, and he was desperate for Malfoy to take his cock in his mouth again.
And Malfoy did, sucking and licking and sliding his mouth up and down, letting Harry’s cock press deeper and deeper into his throat. Then he pressed his middle finger against Harry’s anus, and then he pushed the finger inside him against a spot Harry hadn’t even known he had. Harry had never felt anything like this before, never anything so extraordinarily pleasurable. It was Malfoy kneeling in front of him, sucking his cock, and he was powerless to stop him. That was both too much to bare and too wonderful to have imagined. Malfoy’s mouth was hot and tight and wet. Harry could feel his teeth sliding back and forth against his skin. It felt so right, like something for which he’d been waiting, longing for, for years without even realising it.
Malfoy started moving faster and sucking harder and then Harry couldn’t think at all. He could only thrust his hips forwards, over and over again, pushing his cock into Malfoy’s mouth until the sensations built up to the point where he thought he might die, that his brain would burst. His head was thrown back, his eyes tightly shut, his fingers twitching. Then his cock was throbbing, and he came, crying out helplessly as his come pulsed down Malfoy’s throat.
Bliss and emptiness. He didn’t want to resurface. He knew it wouldn’t feel good. He wanted to hang there, indefinitely, in the darkness. Sure enough, his sharpening awareness was accompanied by a prickling sense of shame and horror.
After a moment, he opened his eyes. His hair was stuck to the sides of his face. He felt like he’d been struck with a Jelly-legs Jinx. Malfoy was smiling up at him with an extremely feline expression on his face. “Are you going to untie me now?” asked Harry. “Now that you’ve…done…that?” He felt his hatred for Malfoy re-emerging with renewed vigour.
“You are joking, aren’t you, Potter?” said Malfoy, smirking and pulling himself to his feet. “You actually think I’d suck you off without expecting you to reciprocate?”
“Re…reciprocate?” asked Harry. “If you put any part of your body near my mouth I’ll bite it off and spit it out at you.”
Draco put his face right up close to Harry’s until their noses were touching. “I’m willing to take my chances,” he said.
Harry made a noise in the back of his throat and thrust his forehead forward in an attempt to head-butt Malfoy. Malfoy was too quick for him, however, and pulled back unharmed. He put his hands on Harry shoulders and pushed him down. Harry didn’t have the strength to prevent it. He kneeled on the ground, his arms tied around the tree behind his back, and breathed through his teeth, furious; he felt like his mind might break.
Malfoy stroked Harry’s damp head and purred, “Poor little Potty.” Harry jerked his head away.
Malfoy parted his robes. He reached inside, and pulled out his cock. It was long and very hard. Using his free hand, Malfoy pressed his wand into Harry’s temple.
Harry laughed; his voice sounded a bit shriller than he would have liked. “What? Crucio? Avada Kedavra? Go on, then. Do it, Malfoy. Let’s see which one of us gives in first.”
“That’s a rather careless attitude to take,” said Malfoy. “And I’m not buying your reluctance. Not after what I just saw.”
He leaned one forearm against the tree above Harry’s head, and bent his own head against his arm. He pushed his cock forward and, without really thinking about it, Harry opened his mouth. Malfoy’s cock tasted strange and salty as it pulsed against his tongue.
Malfoy thrust himself forwards, making Harry choke and gag. “Merlin,” said Malfoy. “I guess I’ll have to be gentle with you.” He pulled back an inch and then forwards again.
Harry felt saliva fill his mouth. He was surprised and disturbed to find that he wasn’t entirely disgusted by what was happening. In fact, as Malfoy began moving faster and making small, whiney grunting noises, Harry felt his face start to burn and a delicious, shivery feeling spreading through his abdomen.
Finally, Draco sped up and then came, whispering, “Ahhg, Potter…shit…”
When Malfoy pulled away and straightened his robes, Harry retched and spit the acrid come from his mouth. His mind felt blank. He stared into space. He began to notice exactly how much his shoulders and arms were aching. “You’re just going to leave me here,” he said, his voice catching in his throat.
“I’ll send Moody an owl telling him where he can find you. I’d hate for you to die, or something. Then we’d never be able to have this kind of fun again.” Malfoy winked, and then spun and Disapparated, leaving behind a cloud of dust that swirled and then floated to the ground.
Harry settled himself down, trying to find a position that was slightly less agonising. He imagined what it was going to be like when Moody found him, tied to a tree, his trousers round his ankles. He sighed. The worst part was, if he was being honest with himself, he agreed with Malfoy. It would be a shame if they weren’t able to have that kind of fun again.