Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter...just the books, the movies, a sweet hat, a necklace....

Warning: Slash...Gay boy slash...it's the bee's knees so it's what I write about. But I'm not gonna lie, this chapter might be a little...violent. So if that makes you uncomfortable, you might want to stop reading here.

A/N: Don't hit me...Please! So it's really not my fault, I swear. I moved at the end of last month and the place I moved into supposedly had free WiFi. However, it hasn't been working and they have been trying to get someone to work on it--the problem is, everytime they set up an appointment, the tech people cancel. So right now I am at my parents typing away. And because of this rushed writing session, this chapter isn't as long, and probably isn't as good as some others have been. But hopefully everything will be up and running this weekend folks...then I promise I'll be back in the swing of things.


Draco's eyes, which had previously been glued shut in the throes of ecstasy, snapped open, confused as to why his lover had suddenly become as still as the statue of David. But even with his eyes open and sight restored, Draco had a hard time deciphering the look on Harry's face, let alone what had caused it.

Harry looked the perfect mixture of hurt and enraged, like both emotions were fighting for dominance and his head was the ring in which they battled. Pain like none Draco had ever seen flashed through the man's eyes, drawing out salty tears before juking out of the way. Then anger would dig it's claws in, creasing Harry's brow and flushing his skin a hot and prickly pink, only to twirl away yet again, carrying on the strange and confusing dance like a never-ending promenade.

After a few moments of watching the struggle, Draco began to worry. "Harry," he whispered, cupping his lover's cheek. "What's wrong?"

Harry's eyes, crazed and animal-like, flitted up to Draco, looking in his general direction, but not actually seeing him. It was bizarre, the unfocused yet feral expression on Harry's face. It was unlike anything Draco had ever seen before and in all honesty, it scared him. Was Harry in shock? Was it some sort of medical condition? Or was he really just so upset that it was emotionally crippling him? And if that was the case, what had gotten him so upset?

"Harry," Draco said again. He grabbed Harry's shoulders and shook him. "Harry...Snap out of it!" he yelled. "What's wrong?" But Harry continued to sit there, still as can be, his eyes now fixed on some unknown point in the distance.

Tears of anger and frustration and worry began clouding Draco's eyes and before he knew it, his body wracked with uncontrollable sobs. "Please," he choked out. "Please, I love you. Please, what's wrong?!"

As Draco said those words, it was as though someone suddenly flipped a switch in Harry's brain. His eyes blinked and refocused themselves and he shook his head side to side like he was trying to clear away the mind fog. He looked up, his expression no longer angry or upset, but something much worse. He looked...broken.

It wasn't until Harry lifted his hand that Draco saw the scrap of pink that was scrunched between his fingers.

"Does this belong to you?" Harry asked, his voice coming out in strangled rasps. "Well not necessarily to you, but to someone you know perhaps?"

Draco's heart sank to the floor and his first, knee-jerk reaction was to lie, lie, lie. It was what he always did when times got tough or when things were just too difficult to deal with. But no matter how many times he had lied in the past, he just couldn't do it, not now, not to Harry. "Yes," he eventually sighed. "I know who they belong to."

Harry nodded stiffly, then threw the thong to the floor and buried his face in his hands. "Why?" he asked through his tangled fingers. "Are you not happy here? Did you need more money? You could have just asked. I mean, do you like being a prostitute?"

"Well..n-no..." Draco stuttered in surprise. It was just like Harry to assume that Draco's unfaithfulness was out of necessity, not because he was just a miserable excuse for a human being that couldn't keep his dick in his pants. Harry thought too highly of him and it made his next words a million times harder to say. He didn't want to let Harry down. He wanted to be a good man, a loving man, a virtuous man, and all because Harry had believed in him.

Draco had considered himself the scum of the earth, nothing but a pariah, a leech on society, and Harry, the geatest and most wonderful human being to walk the face of the planet, had decided to take a chance on him. Despite his sordid past, present, and future, Harry saw something in him worth saving, and that had given Draco hope.

And even though Draco's reasons for latching onto Harry had been motivated by pure greed, he couldn't deny that at some point along the way, gluttony and malice lost their footing, replaced by the much stronger, more able-bodied emotions of happiness and warmth...and love.

And because of this love, no matter how unexpected or how unwanted it had been, Draco had to tell the truth.

"Harry," he began, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I haven't been...working. I've been seeing someone. The underwear belongs to her." He threw himself into Harry's lap. "I am so sorry Harry. I didn't mean for this to happen. I just...I don't know what's wrong with me. She flirted and I'm so weak I couldn't say no. Please...I know you can't forgive me now...maybe not ever, but please just know that I never meant to hurt you. I...I love you Harry."

Draco looked up, praying for some response, some reaction, but Harry still sat there, a blank expression on his face. "I'm sorry," Draco cried. "Please, please let me make it up to you." He leaned in and kissed Harry's cheek, brushing his lips across the light stubble, then moved down his jaw to his throat, pausing to suck on the warm skin above his collar bone. When this was met with no resistance, Draco decided to push things further, willing to give himself completely to Harry if that's what it took to elicit some sort of reaction from the man.

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Harry continued to sit and contemplate, his mind running laps as he tried to figure out how to handle the situation. Did he push Draco away, or did he allow the man to plead his case? It was all so befuddling, he didn't know how to handle it...That is, until Draco wrapped his warm mouth around Harry's cock. Then of course, his next move became crystal clear.

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Draco's head bobbed up and down as he tried to lick and suck some sort of reaction out of Harry. And eventually his diligence paid off. Harry threaded his fingers through Draco's golden locks and pushed against his every thrust, ramming his cock down the beautiful blonde's throat. And Draco took it; not because he particularly enjoyed it, but because he felt he deserved the kind of treatment that was being doled out. He deserved to be punished for messing up the one thing in his life that was good. Harry was nothing short of amazing the past several months and Draco had taken it for granted, so the least he could do was allow Harry to blow off steam in whatever way he saw fit. Draco was the cause of it, so Draco deserved the brunt force of Harry's aggression, whether it was being given verbally, physically, or otherwise.

So when Harry pulled his cock out and flipped Draco onto his stomach, Draco didn't object. He laid there, his breathing labored, his chest constricted like there was a ton of bricks on his back, crushing him into the bed. He was paralyzed--paralyzed by guilt, paralyzed by shame, paralyzed by fear, because even though he could no longer see Harry's face, he could feel the man's hate-filled green eyes boring a hole through the back of his head and it scared him. Anger rolled off the former Gryffindor in tsunami-sized waves, drowning Draco in Harry's sudden flood of fury. He gasped and sputtered, trying to catch a breath of the warm, caring Harry that he knew--even the stone-silent, indifferent Harry from moments before would be preferential to this unknown monster.

But despite his fear, Draco bit his tongue, reminding himself that he deserved Harry's anger and consequentially, whatever punishment came along with it.

Draco's body instinctively stiffened when Harry's cock was suddenly positioned at his entrance. Every muscle tensed and he inadvertently bit down on his tongue, blood leaking into his mouth, filling it with a salty, metallic taste. Draco winced in pain, fighting back the tears that threatened to overwhelm him and the scream that danced behind his lips. He wouldn't let Harry see him hurting because despite Harry's current anger, Draco knew it would upset him, and the last thing he wanted to do was cause more pain to the man he was in love with.

But while Draco was busying himself with the best way to handle Harry's emotions, he was suddenly blinded by a pain more excruciating than if he had bit his tongue right off. His entire body burned and seared, the fire spreading and radiating from his filled entrance like an out of control Fiendfyre. It lapped and licked at him from the inside out--blistering his bones and his flesh and everything in between.

Why was it hurting so much? Draco's thoughts were broken and fragmented and he couldn't wrap his mind around anything--nothing was making sense. All he knew was that it hadn't hurt this much before. It was like some unknown force was punishing him. This is it, he thought through the haze. The jig is up...Someone out there realized all of the horrible things I have done and they finally decided to punish me...retroactively.

"Dammit," Harry mumbled. "Loosen up...I can't even move."

And then it hit Draco. He needed to relax. It didn't hurt before because he had been prepared for it. He had been expecting the intrusion and had given himself time to take a deep breath, time to compose himself. But with Harry suddenly hilt-deep inside of him, his unprepared muscles screamed in agony, fighting to push the foreign object out of his body.

Draco closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing, taking long, deep breaths and exhaling deliberately until every bit of air was out of his lungs. Then he concentrated on individual parts of his body, first his arms, then his legs, and imagined the tightly wound muscles suddenly releasing, like coiled springs abruptly set free of some constricting pressure.

He worked on all of his appendages, then moved to the trunk of his body, relaxing his chest, his stomach, and finally his nether-regions. And it worked. As soon as he calmed his entire body, Harry began thrusting, moving in and out of Draco with relative ease. But even though the physical pain had lessened, Draco still felt terrible. It was something he couldn't quantify. He couldn't pinpoint the source of his grief and eventually resigned to the fact that he wasn't going to be able to enjoy a single second of this tryst. He would just have to grin and bear it--anything to make Harry happy.

So Draco closed his eyes and imagined their amazing celebration dinner that seemed to have happened ages ago, not just mere moments before. He focused on how happy Harry seemed when he arrived home with flowers, how romantic it was when they had cuddled on the couch. He was so engrossed in his recent memories that he didn't even notice when Harry began picking up speed, slamming into him with brute force.

Harry pumped harder and faster, gripping Draco's shoulders with such power that his nails dug into the supple flesh, drawing blood. But again, Draco didn't notice. His mind held steadfast to his most recent fond memories, refusing to let his surroundings pop the bubble of happiness he had created for himself. He didn't even notice when Harry finished, or when Harry pulled out and shoved him aside. And he was too lost in his own thoughts to hear Harry's parting words as he shoved out of the room.

"Good riddance."


A/N: Please review and help lift my spirits through this dark time in my life...aka...living without internet :)