Title: The Ties that Bond
Warning: Don't read this if you're against homosexuality, bondage, or any of that other kinky candy.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but a BRAND NEW CAR!!! It was behind door number 3. :) The story, however, is mine.
Straining, Harry ignored the sweat and blood trickling down his back to stain the pristine white sheets under his body. He kept his hips moving in a steady rhythm, fisting his hands in the soft material as a mixture of pain and pleasure keeping his nerve endings on fire. The man behind him grabbed a hold of him, bruising the delicate flesh around his waist. He groaned, arching his back as he tried to angle his body so that he could finish.
Fighting with his own body, Harry closed his beautiful green eyes and whimpered, feeling his husband FINALLY relent and hit the spot deep in his body that always made everything feel better. He gasped as his climax rolled through his body, burning from his toes to his head. He threw his head back, screaming his husband's name, knowing that it would send the man over the edge quicker. He could hear their daughter starting to whimper in the next room, and knew that it would soon be a full blown wail if the man behind him didn't hurry.
With a small sense of relief, he felt the man's warmth spread into his body just before the heavy weight collapsed onto his still bleeding back. He hissed, the salty sweat that had been on the blonde's chest rubbing painfully into the fresh whip marks. He sank onto the bed, knowing that he'd have to call his Healer again in the morning if he didn't want it to scar again.
Soft, sated kisses were pressed into the back of his neck. He gave a soft, slightly grumpy sound before he turned his head and gave the man a small peck. "I'm going to go clean up. Will you go and get Lucinda?" he asked, shifting over to the side of the bed and slowly easing his long legs over the side. He hated it when Lucius got out the whip. The blonde could never control himself when he took out that six foot long piece of leather, and he always ended up bleeding somewhere.
"Fine, if you insist, my love," the blonde said dryly, grabbing his robe from the end of the large canopy bed and heading for the door. He looked back once, his silvery eyes glinting in the firelight. He smiled softly, the ends of his full, lush lips turning up at the ends as he stared at his husband.
Raising an eyebrow, Harry pushed himself off of the bed, grabbing a hold of the bedpost when his legs threatened to give out. "Go on, you old lech, go see what's wrong with our daughter," Harry laughed, waving the man away before he headed for the large bathroom.
Unconsciously, he skirted the large table that he'd been tied to not an hour ago. The memory of the whip in his mind was too fresh. It had been his anniversary, though, and that had been Lucius's only request. With a loud sigh, he heard his daughter start to wail. He'd better hurry, Lucius had no patience after he'd had sex, and Harry knew that he'd be knocking on the door within the next five minutes.
After he'd shut the heavy teak wood door, Harry shook his head. Turing, he looked in the mirror at the angry welts that marred his back. They weren't that bad, but three of them had broken open and were now slowly leaking red streaks down the porcelain skin of his back. Sighing, he grabbed his wand from where he'd left it on the bathroom sink in preparation for tonight.
Mumbling a spell, he cleaned up and grabbed some bandages. Sighing, he reached for the first one and some tape, twisting his arms around so that he could grab the edges of the gauze. 'The things I have to do to keep the peace,' he thought with a sigh, looking into his own slightly angry emerald eyes. 'I hate arranged marriages.'
He blinked in surprise when the door opened. "Lucius, I'm not quite ready yet," he started, turning and seeing his husband in the doorway. "Let me at least get these on...."
When his husband just stared at him, the normally lively silver eyes dead, Harry felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. He'd seen that look on one too many people over the years of the war. His mind refused to accept it, though, until the blonde wizard that he'd been so intimately entwined with only moments before toppled over, revealing the ebony dagger that was protruding from his back and the blood that soaked down his white house coat.
Though he knew the man was dead, Harry leaned down anyways, touching the still warm, slightly moist skin of his husband's neck. Dread sank into his bones as he felt bile rise into the back of his throat. Without thinking, he bolted from the bathroom, vaulting over the body of his fallen husband. Someone was in his house.
Someone was in the nursery.
Just as he sprinted through the doorway to his daughters opulent room, he saw a black figure limp towards the crib where his toddler was. The cloaked figure raised a dagger above it's head, aiming straight down towards the toddler that was screaming for it's mummy and daddy. Harry didn't dare use his wand for fear of hitting his daughter, so instead he threw his still very athletic body across the room. With a rage filled scream, he tackled the slight figure before it could swing it's arm down at his daughter.
Despite the ebony haired wizards best efforts, the figure managed to wiggle out of his grip and roll away. When Harry raised his wand and pointed at the mysterious attacker in his house, the witch or wizard apperated out.
Despair welled up in Harry's soul as he reached for his daughter, grabbing her tiny, delicate body out of the crib and holding her to his chest. Tears welled up in his eyes as he grabbed her blanket, the image of his husband's shocked face swimming in front of his mind. Tossing the soft pink blanket over his shoulders, he gave a strangled sob as he rocked his daughter gently.
"It's okay, Lucinda, it's going to be alright," he whispered, trying to gather enough of his mind together to apperate to the Ministry.
When he appeared in Draco's country cottage, he sank to his knees in front of the blonde that looked so much like his now dead husband. Tears streaked down his cheeks as his daughter sniffled against her mummy's chest, her large emerald eyes wide with fear.
"What in the-" Draco started, staring down at his father's husband and setting his wineglass down on the oak side table.
"Draco, he's dead," Harry whispered, a sob breaking from between his lips as his daughter clung to him and stared up at her older brother. "Lucius, is dead..."
Okay, I'm test driving a new story, so give me all the feedback that you can on this one. :) If it goes over well, I'll go ahead and write the next chapter, if not, I'll keep it as a one shot.