Draco and Scar by ACM a.k.a. Annie May

Author's Note: This story takes place during the sixth book. I don't usually write stories that are this explicit/twisted, but, as with my one M-rated Torchwood fanfic, my friends' general idiocy has driven me to retaliate in fiction. Please read the whole thing before you make any comments. Enjoy!

The task which he had been set kept Draco Malfoy up every night for several hours and tonight was no exception. Once again he found himself sitting up in bed while the rest of the dormitory was sleeping, blissfully unaware of his predicament. Glancing around the room, his eyes fell upon the sleeping form of his two closest companions, Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe. Crabbe was turned on his side, his plump cheek pressed heavily into his pillowcase, while Goyle lay on his back, a steady stream of drool issuing from his wide-open mouth. Pursing his lips in disgust, he threw himself backward onto the bed. Closing his eyes, he tried desperately to remember what he had dreamed. He knew it must have been something of distinct interest, because he had awoken in a cold sweat and breathing heavily. Was it merely worry? No, it was something more. There was a sensation of want, of need. There was something that he could almost see in his mind, something that he could not have but that he wanted very badly, something to which he could almost put a word...

Scar!

Malfoy gasped as he thought of it. The image came racing into his mind. There it was, the one thing that he wanted most. That beautiful word described his every desire, the embodiment of darkness and purity and ambition. Day after day he saw it but could not touch it. Yet in his dream what he wanted was within reach and he took his lover and appreciated him to the fullest. Suddenly he remembered.

"Don't you think it's a bit obvious, bringing a lion in here?" his lover was saying.

"If anyone has a problem with it, they will have to answer to me!" Malfoy replied tersely, "Now be quiet and lie down!"

Without further words, Scar fell back against the soft green blanket Malfoy had placed on the floor as a makeshift bed. Malfoy's eyes filled with lust and greed as he admired his lover. Every inch of naked, primal skin beckoned to him. His lover's dark-rimmed green eyes stared longingly at him, but above all Malfoy's gaze was transfixed upon the paper-thin scar. Never letting it out of his sight, he silently disrobed and took his place astride his lover's hips. Pressing their lengths together, he kissed the waiting lips while running his hands through the dark mane. His right hand passed over the scar by accident and he let it linger there, his fingers tracing it again and again. His arousal increased and he moaned, pressing his fingers into the scar, feeling the mark made long ago which had given his lover such a distinctive appearance that he could no longer blend into a crowd. He felt his lover's mouth twist into an evil grin; evidently he was amused by Malfoy's reaction. Well, Malfoy knew how to shut him up.

Without a moment's hesitation he shifted their positions, throwing his lover's legs roughly over his shoulders. He grasped on the floor for his wand and waved it slowly over his shaft, inwardly muttering a spell which rendered it slick. Then, without warning or further preparation, he thrust roughly inside his lover, who stopped smiling and instead threw his head back with a growl of mixed pain and pleasure. Malfoy rode him hard until he could hardly breathe, his eyes ever fixed on his lover's face, on the scar, the scar drove him onward. Pressing his hands down on either side of his lover's face, he put out his tongue and licked it with slow, drawn-out strokes. It was too much, the power, the sensation, the proximity to that which he loved most. Within no time, Draco came and his lover followed shortly after.

Exhausted, Draco rolled over onto the blanket and closed his eyes. A snickering sound beside him made his eyes shoot open. Sure enough, his lover was laughing at him.

"What the hell are you laughing about? I'm sure that didn't tickle!" roared Draco, turning to face the man beside him, who did not stop laughing, but controlled himself just enough to speak.

"It's just so funny! Who would have imagined, the great and pure Draco Malfoy, shagging Harry Potter on the floor of the Slytherin common room!"

The laugher stopped abruptly as Malfoy leaped on him, his right hand clutching Harry's throat, pressing him into the blanket once again. He loosened his grip just enough to allow Harry to breathe but maintained the position of his hand, ensuring that he kept Harry's full attention.

"You had better understand one thing. I am not interested in "Harry Potter." THIS is what I want!"

Without removing his right hand from Harry's throat, Malfoy brought his left to his mouth and kissed its first two fingers, the pressed them against the scar.

"This is a vestige of the Dark Lord's power. He has marked you and that is the only reason that you are here. You are not Harry Potter when you are here. You are no Gryffindor lion, no Quidditch captain, no words, no face, no heart. You are only Scar."

And with that he sat back, lifting Harry with him, and threw him roughly back onto the blanket. Harry sat back looking stunned and gingerly rubbed his throat as Malfoy swiftly reclothed himself. When he had finished he approached Harry, the look in his eyes almost tender. He took Harry's chin in his hands as if to kiss him and Harry closed his eyes. The wet lips did not touch his mouth, but rather his scar, and Malfoy's tongue ran quickly over its lightning-bolt shape. Malfoy could not help but let a small moan escape his lips, but he concealed it by clearing his throat. Dropping Harry, he got quickly to his feet.

"Take your things and get out," he said as he swept from the common room.

Draco smirked as he remembered this last line. Still, the memory left him unsatisfied. His body still aching with need, he drifted into a troubled sleep, still thinking of that one word.

Scar.