Just a few points.

1) This is a dark fic. Not suited for the weak-hearted, aww-loving people. So if you need to flame me, please find other reasons to.

2) My beta is busy now so please bear with my mediocre standard of english.

3) I am not encouraging self-harm. The reason why the characters are so reckless with their bodies is because they are fictional. Just have to clear that up.

4) The characters are not mine, obviously.

5) If there is anything you would like to see in later chapters, please include them in your reviews and I would try to fit them into the story.


I am currently attending a regular college outside of the wizarding world, the same school that Harry Potter is currently studying in. Harry Potter. He is famous everywhere he goes. In the wizarding world, he is the savior. In the regular world, he is the most outstanding artist in the school. Only 19 and he has several awards and exhibitions under his belt. His talents were instantly discovered when he enrolled in the art department here. Even a famous retired artist came out of retirement just to coach him. He is catching the eyes of many renowned artists all around London and maybe even further out, though his devil-may-care attitude seems to be pissing everyone off. Without his usual Hogwarts entourage around him, he is quiet and keeps to him a lot. But it is also apparent to everyone that he has chosen to withdraw him from the society after the war. So much untold pain is behind those large green eyes. Even so, he still draws people to him. Girls, and even guys, admire him and want to get close to him. However he only politely refuses them. Recently an ad has been put out that he is requesting for a male model for his latest creation and this has everyone in the school talking non-stop about it. Many have applied but all were rejected, reason unknown.

This afternoon I got called into my school's guidance counselor's office. It is only the start of the year. I wonder what sort of trouble I could be in.

"I have not received your registration form for your desired club yet. You need at least 80 hours of extracurricular activities this year in order to proceed to next year, you know that right?" The counselor is a gentle yet cold person. The kind that you would think she is gentle only because of the role she is acting out. Talking to her always makes me uncomfortable.

"Yah. But I could not find time to do so yet."

"Maybe you should look for Harry. He needs a model."

"Are there other options?"

"Not really, since the club registrations have already closed."

"I'll think about it."

I walk out of her office and sigh. I spent the whole of last year being as far away from Harry as possible. I don't wish to be near anything that reminds me of the war. It is depressing to say the least.

Several days passed and I still have not found a solution to my problem, so in the end I was forced by the counselor to see Harry. I stand rooted to the ground in front of the door to his studio, unable to turn the door knob. Seeing Harry is like acknowledging the war and reliving the pain. To think I came all the way out here to forget about it.

Harry should feel the same too so all I have to do is just go in there and get rejected, right? He would not want to work with me either.

I turn the knob slowly and push the door open. This prized student of the school has his own studio all the way in the recesses of the school. I hear it is a great make-out spot before Harry chose to do his work here. Now hardly anyone approaches this area anymore.

The air in the studio is kind of cold and dry. I think this big room might be climate controlled to store the artworks. The school is really throwing a lot of money into developing this kid. Light streams in from the windows that are too high to reach. This place feels like an enclosure. When my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, I can see that this place is rather big, about the size of a basketball court. Huge blocks of wood and other art related objects littered the place.

"Hello? Anyone here?"

No response. Did he recognize my voice and decides that he would ignore me? From a far I hear the distinct sound of the toppling then rolling of tin cans. I walk tentatively towards the origin of the sound to find Harry curled up in the fetal position on the floor. He has knocked over a few cans of spray paint but luckily they were sealed shut or they would have ruined the half done painting that is spread out on the floor beside the sleeping Harry. The painting is huge. It looks to be of no resemblance to anything. Abstract art, I could never get the beauty of it. I realize that Harry is shivering on the floor. Stupid guy must have fallen asleep while painting. A lot of pressure has been put on him to do the school proud in the upcoming art exhibition that will be showcasing many of the works of talented young artists of the region. Sponsors will also be looking out for suitable candidates to invest in. This year our school finally has the chance to send in a student that actually has the potential of securing a sponsorship so everyone is pinning their hopes on him to do well and help the art department of the school get more recognition.

Harry looks frail as compared to his Hogwarts days. A stumble has already been forming on his chin and upper lip. I locate the blanket that he has probably kicked off during the night and place it atop him. I take a seat next to him as I watch him sleep. Light rays land gently on his sleeping face, giving him an almost innocent glow. His eye lashes are long and brushing against his high cheekbones. The shaggy black hair that he sport when he was younger is still the same now, just a little longer and maybe a little more unruly. I have never seen him having such a defenseless face before. Every time his is around me he always has that guarded look. I cannot blame him for that for I wasn't very nice to him either. I have since left my arrogant self behind. I learnt people skills and humbleness after the war ended. The stratification by blood no longer mattered so I had to see things in a different light. I am no different from everyone else. And after I got past that hurdle, I am able to finally earn myself some decent friends. Being popular with the ladies is the only constant though, given my stunning good looks and smooth operation.

Harry stirs and opens his eyes. His pupils dilated and unfocused as he squints to get a better look at me.

"Draco?" His voice is hoarse and uncertain.


"What are you doing here?" He moves slowly into a sitting position, hands rubbing his eyes like a kid.

"I got forced to come for the audition."

"I see."

I thought he would be hostile towards me. I thought he would yell. I didn't expect him to be so civil, as if he has already put everything past him. I feel a little disappointed and maybe a little pissed that my torments didn't leave a big impression on him. In Hogwarts, I devoted much of my time to make his life a living hell but he didn't seem to mind it now.

He gets up and walks into the dark. The sound of flicking on a big switch and the studio becomes brilliantly lit by the fluorescent lights hanging above. I can see more clearly now. At one corner is his living space which is sparsely furnished, just a bed, a fridge, a microwave, a chest of drawers and a television. Paintings big and small line the walls of the studio and statues and sculptures fills up the floor. A photography setup stands all the way on the other side. I hear the fridge door opening.

"You want anything to drink? I have sugared drinks and beer."

"I'm fine." I wonder how he has been eating. He sits down next to me, drinking a soda.

"How have you been, Draco?"

"I'm good. Finally getting away from all that shit. Though, no offense, you look awful."

He laughs and it echoes emptily in the big open space.

"Yah. I know. The exhibition is killing me a little."

"It is weird that I am sitting here talking to you right now."

"Like you said, being here is like getting away from all that shit. So we don't have to carry the hatred from then."

"You're right."

"So what are you doing now?"

"I am a physics major."

"I see."

"So, what kind of model are you looking for?"

"A nude model."

"What?" The element of shock is obvious in my voice. I quickly clear my throat and return to my calm self. "I see. Anyway, I am here to be rejected so that I can tell that counselor of ours to get off my case."

"She hounding you about the extracurricular shit?"


"Well, I'm a little desperate here so I cannot just let you walk away. Why don't we do a few test shots?"

I turn to stare at the side of his face. Is that amusement? Is he playing with me?

"Are you serious, Harry?" Did I just call him Harry? Why does it not feel weird? Maybe it is because he called me Draco first. I guess we are on first-name basis now.

"I cannot joke about the upcoming exhibition. The whole school is counting on me isn't it?" He follows that statement with a bitter laughter. "Shall we get started?"

"I don't think this is a good idea."

"Why? Can't strip in front of me?"

"Is that a challenge?"

"I just need you to take off your shirt."

"Oh. Then that's fine, I think."


He stands up and I follow him. We make our way wordlessly towards the photography setup. There's a huge piece of black clothe dangling from the ceiling and also covering the floor. That must be the backdrop. He shifts a huge chair to the centre of the backdrop. The chair is magnificently crafted. It has a high and narrow back. The armrests are thin and have delicate woodcarvings on it. The cushion of the seat and back is covered in red satin. Bordering the red satin is the wood painted in gold. This isn't a chair. This is a throne.

Harry busies himself with the lighting and fixing his camera with lenses and testing them. I stand there like an idiot, unsure of what I should be doing.

"Take off your shirt and sit on the chair."

He did not even look at me when he said that. He sounds like a different person now, authoritative and focused. His voice makes me feel a little less hesitant in taking off my shirt. He sounds like he knows what he is doing and that he is filled with professionalism. I take off my shirt and sit in the chair. I didn't notice this before but the seat of the chair is quite far from the back. My back could not rest against the back of the chair unless the backs of my knees are touching the edge of the seat.

He approaches me with a small device that flashed in my face when he pressed it. I jump a little.

"I'm sorry. Did I startle you? I'm just testing the lights."

"I'm fine."

I realize he looks really attractive when he is so focused on something. Then again, everyone becomes attractive when they are working hard. I find myself staring so I look away. I finger the carvings in the armrest and I hear the camera shutter go off as well as getting blinded by the studio lights.

"Sorry. You just looked really good just now."

"So I guess we are starting?"

"Yah. Could you sit a little further out and clasp your hands together between your legs? Erm… Look down and spread your legs wider."

I do as I am told. I wonder what sort of pictures he is submitting for the exhibition that would require a nude model. I feel him walking closer to me and then his hand touch my head. He rearranges my hair a little and walks back into position. More clicking of the camera.

"Let's try a different position. Put both your legs over one armrest and rest your back against the other. Then turn your body to hug the back of the chair. Yah, like that. Hold the position."

I guess an artist have a really unique thinking as compared to us common people. These weird positions that he is making me strike makes me wonder what the outcome is going to be like. I feel like I am anticipating something good.

"Okay. That's it. You can out your shirt back on now."

I come down from the chair and pull on my shirt. I got curious as to the outcome of the pictures so I walk over to where he is sitting, behind two computer monitors. I look over his shoulder as he browses through the shots, all of which my face is in the shadows. The pictures are breathtaking. They may give a very gloomy mood but they are so beautiful. Is that me in the picture? I probably would not have recognized it if not for the fact that I was just posing for it.

"Do you like it?"

"Yah. They are great."

"This is before I process them with softwares. After that, they would be better. Anyway, if you want, you can leave now."

Why do I feel a pang of dejection by his words? Asking to me to leave as soon as he got what he wanted. I did not want to impose on him so I left.

A week past and I got called into the principal's office. Harry hasn't contacted me at all after that. Not like I am hoping for him to but he should at least officially notify me of the rejection as a form of courtesy. I knock on the principal's door.

"Come in."

I have never been here before even with all the trouble that I have gotten myself into. It is always the guidance counselor that I go to. Did I do something big this time? Maybe the big man finally decides to do something about the parties that I hold on school compounds. They get rowdier and rowdier as the people get more and more drunk. I swear one day we'd actually kill someone and not notice it till the next afternoon. My Greek brothers are really hard partiers.

"Take a seat Mr. Malfoy."

I uneasily sit myself in one of the chairs in front of the huge dark wood desk.

"I hear that you auditioned to be Harry's model a week ago?"

"Yes I did. I never heard from him since."

"He has decided to pull out from the exhibition."


"He says he cannot find a more suitable model other than you. Is there a problem between you and Mr. Potter that don't allow you to work with him?"

That damn Potter. What is he trying to do? He is pushing all the blame on me!

"He was the one that did not call me back, sir."

"He said that you would not be comfortable working with him."

I am trapped. If I deny ever saying that I feel uncomfortable working with Harry, then I'll be agreeing to work with him and I do not want to. But the whole school is looking forward to his exhibition. So if I do not agree to work with him, then I am pretty much screwed too.

"I'll talk to Mr. Potter again."

"Yes, you do that. That will be all Mr. Malfoy."

I leave his office gritting my teeth and fuming silently. Stomping my whole way to Harry's studio, I glare at anyone who dares to make eye contact with me. I enter his studio without knocking and see him sleeping in his bed. Pulling his blanket aside, I drag him to a sitting position by his collar. He wakes up and narrows his eyes at me. There's something different in those eyes, something dangerous. I immediately release my hand.

"Harry! What is the meaning of this?"

His eyes return to their same gentle gaze once I say his name. He is obviously not someone who wakes up with a cheerful attitude I guess.

"What is the meaning of what?"

"If you want to pull out of the exhibition that is your own problem. Don't make me the scapegoat!"

"But it is true that you are reason I cannot continue with my work. I feel inspired by you."

"Then do something else! Get another muse!"

"No. It has to be you."

There is so much resolve in his voice and his eyes that my anger has dissipated slightly. This guy is serious about his work and would not settle for second best.

"Fine. I get it. I just have to be your model right? I mean, you cannot pull out of the exhibition or I am going get slaughter by the school. I scratch your back and you scratch mine. I have one condition. I'm having a party tonight and there's this girl that I'm interested in. She has a friend that is interested in you. So if I bring you along, they will come approach me. Get my drift?"

"Yah. What time?"

"8. At the Tri Pi house."

"'Kay. I'll be there."

"You better."

8.15 and still no Harry. I keep coming up to the main door to check for his arrival and it is taxing on my legs.

The Tri Pi house holds parties in the basement because it is illegal to do so openly. We use to do it in the living room itself but we got into trouble. So we thought of moving the party to the basement. But before that, the basement would need some work done. Since the Tri Pi house is known to be the house if rich children, money is not a problem at all. Under the pretext of repairing the plumbing system of the house, we hired contractors to expand the basement to almost twice the original size and also install soundproof walls. We can now safely continue to party.

8.17. Harry walks through the main door and I am leaning against the wall, tapping my foot and giving him a displeased expression.

"You're late."

"Sorry. I had to finish a painting."

"Whatever. Hurry up. I did not have time to print you an invitation so I have to bring you in myself. You are wasting my precious night away."

He follows me to the stairwell leading to the basement door where one of my housemate is standing guard. We have a strict policy of invitation only because we need to keep track of the human traffic should anything happen. There was an incident where some guy was peddling drugs at our party and we got into major trouble hence the underground parties now.

I nod my head at my housemate and he opens the door for us. Loud blasting music immediately greets us and the door closes behind us. My eyes quickly scan for the girl and spot them at the bar.

"You have a bar here?" Harry leans into my ear and shouted.

"Yah. A professional bartender too. That's why our parties are famous," I shouted back.

I hold his hand as we make our way to the bar just in case we get separated in the crowd. I don't know whether it is my imagination or Harry is uneasy, but I feel him squeezing my hand a little and it feels comforting to me. I squeeze back to reassure him, assuming he is uneasy. We reach the bar and I order us a couple of beers.

"I can't drink." Harry shouts into my face.

"Beer won't kill you." I push the bottle that the bartender slides across the table into Harry's chest. "Loosen up."

Harry takes the bottle and looks at it hesitantly. I drink from my bottle and motion for him to do the same. He takes a swing with his eyes closed. I wonder what his issue is. 19 going on 20 and still refusing to drink. Prude. But then again, he has always been a prude. I stare in the general direction of the girls that I am eyeing, careful not to let them catch me staring. My target's friend is already looking our way and I nod lightly while smiling, dropping the hint that it is okay for them to come over. I am still the same old Draco Malfoy. Arrogant, self-centered and demanding. Just that in Hogwarts my reputation is bestowed upon me since birth. Here, I get recognition for being drop-dead gorgeous and intelligent, earning my reputation fair and square. Though the part about being rich is still because of the inheritance, which I am not proud of.

The girls approach us and I start to chat them up. But they are obviously more attracted to Harry. It seems like my plan is not working to my advantage. Even if I am popular with girls, how can I compete with Harry who attracts more girls by rejecting them? Harry looks to be squirming a little as the girls move in closer. He is downing the beer a lot faster now. Probably to calm himself down. Should I save him? But it is amusing to watch him now. Then I see it again. The transition. His eyes narrows a little and looks to be shrouded by mystery. His posture relaxes and drinks the beer in a practiced swing. He begins to respond to the girls in a more composed manner like he has been used to attention. The girls, though a little perplexed by the change, are more than willing to accept this new Harry. I feel a little pissed that my plan backfired so I leave for the dance floor. I thrust my beer to Harry for safeguarding and he didn't even tear his eyes away from the girls as he takes my bottle.

I feel more relax as I move towards the centre of the dance floor. Girls are taking turns to grind up against me. I thrive best under attention. I gaze over to the bar to see that more girls have gathered around Harry. Whatever, I am having fun now. That girl does not know what she is missing out on. I rather focus my attention on the girls right in front of me. I dance for about an hour before heading back to the bar. I reach my hands towards Harry and he hands me my drink. I see him move his lips but I cannot hear what he said.

"What did you say?" I shouted.

"Nothing important."

I take a swing from my bottle and those girls that are too far away from Harry to get his attention begins to talk to me. I flash my charming smile but mostly ignore them. I do not settle for second place. I drink more of my beer while I catch my breath. Suddenly I feel the room spinning before my eyes and I am quickly losing visual. I steady myself against the counter and I soon black out after that.

I slowly pry open my heavy eye lids but they keep falling back down. I can no longer hear the noisy basement. Did the party end? I try harder to pry my lids open and I am greeted by blinding lights. I realize I am cold. My limbs feel sluggish so I try to move them then I noticed. My hands are tied above my head and my legs are spread and tied to something hard. My defense mechanism quickly kicks in and my eyes spring open. I am in Harry's studio but he is nowhere in sight. I struggle against my restrains a little even though I know it will be futile. The studio lights shine bright in my face, throwing the rest of the unlit studio into total darkness. Why did Harry spike my drink?

"I see that you are awake." Harry emerges from the darkness.

This is not the regular Harry. His eyes are cold and distant.

"What do you want, Harry? Is this revenge?"

"Revenge? I am not so childish. And I am not Harry. I am Danny. Harry's unborn twin."


"You see, Harry is part of a twin. But I died before I could be born. Harry grew faster than me so he sort of crushed me in the womb. Refusing to die before I can see the world, I house myself in Harry's body before the Grim Reaper could collect my soul."

There is so much to process from what Harry, or Danny, said and my head is still fuzzy from being drugged.

"So what do you want from me?"

"Harry has been depending on me for years. Every time he feels like he cannot handle something, he throws it to me. His kind and gentle nature did not allow him to fight the war, so I did. He could not kill, so I did. Now that he is crushed under the pressure of the exhibition, I am taking over him to complete the work. And since you are his model, I need you."

"I get it. Untie me and I'll uphold my end of the deal and be the model."

"Actually I need you all tied up for the shot. This is Harry's concept. The theme is 'A restrained man's anguish'. Ahh… But you are not giving me the right expression. I need you to look like you are suffering and maybe tear a little. Can you do that?"

There is a tinge of excitement and amusement in his tone. He looks to be enjoying my discomfort. It dawn on me that I am completely naked as my senses start to return to me gradually. I am sitting on that throne from before and my hands are tied together above my head. The backs of my knees are resting on the each armrest and tied in place. I am sitting on the small of my back, exposing my asshole.

"No no no! You are still not giving me the right expression! You need to look like you are suffering and helpless. Oh, I know what I can do."

Danny moves into the darkness and then out again, carrying a small tube. He pops the lid and squeeze a little into the palm of his hand. He throws the tub to one side. Scooping some onto his fore and middle finger, he walks towards me.

"I got this aphrodisiac specially for this reason. I know it is hard to produce emotions upon request so I am going to help you. There won't be any side effects so don't worry."

He displays a cold smile as he stares into my eyes. I feel him rub the cool lotion at my entrance.

"What are you doing?" I struggle against my restrains.

"Don't struggle so much or you will hurt yourself! To think I specially boiled the ropes beforehand so that you would not hurt. You are not appreciating my efforts at all. I already said there is nothing to worry about so chill."

One of his fingers enters me. My eyes widen and I struggle even more.

"Don't fight it! It's okay. This would help with the pictures." His words are trying to reassure me but his voice is taunting me. This guy is definitely not Harry!

"Harry! Harry! I know you are in there somewhere! Harry!"

"No point trying to wake him up. He can't drink so he is knocked out already."

He pushes another finger into me and spread me further. He thrusts them slowly in and out while twisting them to coat me with the lotion. He pulls them out to scoop up the lotion gathered around my entrance before pushing them in again. I feel my body beginning to heat up and my breath quicken. My thoughts become clouded and my sense of touch heightens. Soon, I am like an animal in heat. He pulls his fingers out and I whimper.

"You want more?"

I defiantly shake my head. I cannot trust my voice anymore. I feel like I would say something outrageous if I open my mouth.

"But you are so hard already." He slides one finger along the slit of my penis. I quickly bite my lower lip so I won't utter a sound. I am not going to give him any satisfaction from this.

"Your expression is getting better. You definitely look like you are suffering now. But not helpless enough. Let's see what else I can do for you."

Danny walks away again and returns with a dildo. He cannot be serious.

"Look! This thing vibrates." He turns it on and the unmistakable buzzing sound rings in my ears. I am fearful of what is to happen next.

"Feel it." He puts the vibrating dildo against my erect nipple. I bite harder into my lip. He then brings the dildo southwards and rubs it along the valley of my butt cheeks. "This would sting a little bit."

He cannot be serious! I feel him nudge it against my hole and I struggle more. I can feel my dick twitching and growing and leaking in response to his torment. I feel myself get stretched as he pushes the offending item in.

"Ah!" I release my lip. Is that a moan? Is that from pain? I cannot tell since I am feeling so much right now.

"I said don't fight it. Relax yourself or it will hurt more. Embrace the pain, Draco. Think of it as an outlet to your emotional pain. Feel you emotional torment transform into this physical pain then disappearing as you scream it out."

My mind can no longer think for itself and it is absorbing every word that Danny is speaking. I am welcoming the pain. I am feeling the stress of upholding my reputation and of meeting everyone's expectation slowly dissolving. I am shouting. I am drooling and tearing and dying. My ass hurts. It hurts. And the more it hurts, the less I hurt. I hear the camera shutter go off in the distant. All I can concentrate on is the pain and the physical and emotional pleasure that I am deriving from it. The offending item is not so offending anymore. I am close. I am coming. Did I say that out loud? I think I did.

"Don't come yet."

His voice is telling me not to come and even though my brain did not register it, my body obeys. The pain is resounding all over my body and I'm tingling. This throbbing pain is connecting with my heart and they throb as one, rising to my vocal chords, becoming my scream. I'm moaning and screaming and shaking. More camera noises. Click, click, click. Blinding lights flashing and flashing in my face. I'm going slowly crazy from feeling so much. I see him walking closer through my teary vision. He kisses me on my sweaty forehead.

"Good boy. You can come now."

And like magical words, the virtual floodgates of my mind open and I came and came. Shaking, jerking and shouting, my orgasm spreads throughout my body. This is the most violent orgasm I have every felt. It shakes up my mind, body and soul. My body is almost in spasm as the orgasm floods my system. I think I passed out because I do not even remember that good feeling ever ending.

I awaken to the sound of sobbing and feeling sore all over. I try to turn but realize I am too sore to do so, so I groan. The sobbing stops and I hear rustling.

"Hey, are you okay? How are you feeling?"

"Wha-?" I open my eyes to meet a pair of kind, brilliantly green ones. Ah, Harry Potter. "Why?"

I trail off. My brain cannot function. If I try harder I thought I might throw up.

"Is it hurting anywhere?"

I concentrate for a minute and processed his question.

"Yah. I'm sore everywhere."

"Why don't you just sleep for now."


And I fall back into slumber.

I jerk awake, events from last night flooding into my now clear head. Where am I? What time is it now? Am I still in danger? I sit up in a hurry and feel my head swirling. I bury it in my hands and groan silently.

"You're awake. Here, drink this."

A bottle is thrust into my hands and follow the arm with my eyes to face their owner.


"I'm sorry." He looks sincerely remorseful and I feel bad for him since it really isn't him that wronged me but his twin brother.

"What is this?" I signal that I meant the bottle.

"Potion. To neutralize the charm I put in your drink to drug you."

"Thanks. And it is Danny that drugged me, not you."

"I'm sorry you got involved."

"I guess it is okay since I came to you first."

I stare at the bottle of green liquid and grimace before downing it quickly. It tastes horrible as expected.

"Are you okay? Are you badly hurt anywhere?"

"I guess it is just my ass and the rope burns."

"Yah. I applied medicine on those for you a while ago."

"The rope burns? Thanks."

"And your ass too. I think I torn something."

"Stop saying 'I'. It was Danny, okay?"


"How long have I been out?"

"About 14 hours. It's evening now."

"Shit! I missed the whole day of classes."

"I went and took notes for you."

"Ah, thanks."

"Stop thanking me. I had a part to play."

"I guess I should have listened when you said you can't drink too."

He looks more hurt about last night than I felt. He really is a nice guy.

"I'm fine. Really. Don't brood over it so much."

I get off the bed and wobble a little. He holds my arm but I smile at him. He takes the hint that I can manage on my own so he lets go. I walk out of his studio feeling sweetly sore, satisfied and the burden in my heart a little lighter. Suddenly everything changes. I remember the horrifying part of last night. The intense pain, the fear and the betrayal. I was tied up and raped and I feel good about it? What is wrong with me? I feel disgusted with myself all of a sudden and so I run to the nearest toilet to throw up. I don't think I am the same person as I am yesterday anymore. Something awoken last night. One that I have a bad feeling about.