Harry was so cold that his teeth chattered. He curled into himself in a corner of the cell, tucking his legs up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. He intertwined his fingers so that he could tightly squeeze his knees together. The heavy press of his legs against his torso provided a modicum or warmth. The only, admittedly small, comfort was that his cell was so dark that no one passing by and peering inside would be able to see him. Not that anyone passed by this far into Azkaban.

If he stayed huddled in this corner long enough, his body might create enough heat to warm him, if however minutely. At least enough to keep his jaw from shaking and his teeth from clattering together. It was a sick noise, and it reverberated through the stone cell and against the metal door.

The roughly cut stones of the cell wall scraped his t-shirt, and the ground smelled like moist dirt, but he was used to all of it by now. He wasn't even sure what day it was anymore. In the beginning of his incarceration, he had attempted to keep track of the days of the week. Somewhere around the third Wednesday, he lost count. For one thing, it was almost impossible to distinguish days from nights; the cells in Azkaban had no windows. His only inkling of time was when he got his regular visits.

In fact, it must have been about time for a visit, because he could already hear footsteps approaching. Thick-heeled boots thumped on their way down the narrow corridor, loud and echoing against the stone floor. Harry steadied his breathing; he didn't want them to witness his misery.

There was a screech of metal as the door opened.

"Alright, Potter," said the familiar voice of Rodolphus Lestrange. "Time for your daily practice." When Harry didn't move, he shouted. "Get over here, Potter!"

Clenching his teeth, Harry allowed his shaky, aching limbs to unravel. Since the cell was so small, he simply crawled the two paces it took from his corner to the door. Once there, he got onto his knees and looked blankly ahead.

Lestrange parted his robes down the middle and nudged the corners to the side, getting the hem out of the way. He held his wand in one hand, pointed straight at Harry, and he undid his trousers with the other.

When his cock was out, Harry didn't even see it. The visits were so routinely ingrained into him. He shut his eyes and opened his mouth, waiting for the hot, heavy weight to settle onto his tongue. The taste of Lestrange's cock was also familiar. Since he had to suck it every day, he had grown accustomed to the flavor that cock had. The strong aroma of it. The texture on his tongue, and the intrusive weight against the delicate opening of his throat.

His bones couldn't stand another Cruciatus, or Harry was certain they'd break. His mind was so exhausted that he could barely fight the Imperius anymore. His skin was already so bruised from beatings that he could barely stand higher than kneeling as it were. He had screamed himself to sleep many times.

They wouldn't let him die, because Voldemort wanted that honor for himself after Harry was so broken that he begged for it. As Harry saw it, a bit of cock was his mouth was not as pitiful as begging.

That first time after Lestrange had zipped up and left, Harry realized that he had not died from the experience. He also realized that he was given less Unforgivables, as long as he kept 'practicing'.

Lestrange grunted from above him and grabbed a fistful of Harry's hair, and Harry brought his hands up to rest on Lestrange's thighs. The head of Lestrange's cock was pushing against his throat, and Harry tried to relax and let it in. This, in particular, was one of the things he'd been practicing for the last few days.

"Take it, you filthy slag," Lestrange growled. "You're nothing but a slag for cock." His grip in Harry's hair tightened, and Harry felt him push his hips forward.

It was too much, and he choked. It hurt his throat, but he knew that he had to practice stretching it or he'd be Imperiused until he complied. Therefore, he tried to sit as still as possible and relax around the intrusion. The difficult thing was that when he breathed through his nose, his throat instantly closed up.

Lestrange let out a strangled moan. "Such a tight squeeze."

After he came, Lestrange always hung around a bit. Harry imagined he got more satisfaction from their little chats than their practice sessions.

"I'm a lucky man, Potter," he grunted, eyeing Harry's come-stained face with a smug smile. "If my wife hadn't caught you, I might not have this privilege. The Boy Who Lived, practicing cock-sucking on me." He let out a sharp laugh that. "I am a lucky man," he repeated.

"My friends will find me," Harry said, like he always did. However, after the hundredth time, it wasn't coming out with the same fervor.

"Right," Lestrange grunted, tucking himself away. "I saw your so-called friends. They ran away when the Dark Lord took that bloody school of yours."

"Not all of them," Harry insisted, staring blankly at the ground. Images of Ron and Hermione's faces flashed through his mind. What choice did he have but to keep repeating the same mantras over and over again? "They'll find me."

"You know, Potter, I was at Hogwarts only last night. Do you know what the Wizarding world is saying? Hm?" When Harry didn't respond - didn't even look up - Lestrange continued. "They say that you're dead."

Harry blinked at the stone floor.

"All your friends, the Order," he said mockingly, drawing out the word. "All those wankers think you're dead! They saw the Dark Lord carrying you off, and you've been away for months. Who's going to go looking for a dead bloke?"

Ignoring the panic that was starting to well up in his chest, Harry swallowed and took a deep breath. For the first time that night, he raised his eyes to look Lestrange in the face. "The Order would never abandon me."

Lestrange considered him for a moment, his thick brows creasing in the middle, before he burst into uproarious laughter. "Oh Potter," he wheezed. "When he thinks you've been properly trained, the Dark Lord will take you as his slave. Accept your fate."

When Harry heard the door open the next day, he didn't move. He was lying facing the wall, and the torchlight from the corridor lit up the stone in front of him. Someone behind him cleared his throat, which was odd, because Lestrange never greeted him that way. With piqued curiosity, Harry turned his head to look behind him.

He saw a blond head and a black, slim-fitting suit.

Harry scrambled to his feet. "Malfoy?"

Malfoy's eyes were wide, and his brow was creased as he frowned. He took one look at Harry, and his frown quickly became a scowl. With clenched fists, Malfoy turned and walked away a few paces, his footsteps loud in the corridor.

Harry wondered where he went, and why he was here in the first place. Was he so revolted by the sight of Harry that he couldn't physically stand look at him. Harry looked down at his tattered, dirty clothes and his skin covered in grime, and then he remembered the come drying on his chin and scrubbed at it with the back of his hand.

A moment later, Malfoy returned, his posture much more stiff. He surveyed Harry with care, and Harry unconsciously turned his head away.

"Potter," Malfoy said, grinding his voice out. Although his mouth became a thin line, his eyes still shone.

"What is happening?" Harry asked. "Are you here for... for..." Despite himself, he had to swallow before he could make himself whisper the word. "Practice?"

Malfoy blinked, but that was the only indication he gave of knowing or not knowing what Harry meant. "I'm here to collect you," he informed him stiffly.

"What?"

"You're coming with me."

Harry's mind raced, immediately attempting to connect the dots on his own, before asking, "Why? Where are we going?"

"Just give me your hands," Malfoy snapped. His frown had deepened, and his knuckles turn pale around the wand clenched in his fist.

Harry stepped closer and held out his arms, wrists together. Malfoy performed the binding spell. A long line of light extended from the tip of Malfoy's wand and wrapped itself around both of Harry's wrists. He could feel the heat of the magic hovering over his skin as the line broke from Malfoy's wand and turned into a solid, twisted rope.

Without a word, Malfoy turned and headed back down the corridor. Although he'd seen Malfoy only months ago, it actually felt like years. A small voice inside him reminded him that Malfoy was nothing to be afraid of. However, that voice was small and nearly beaten down, so Harry himself following Malfoy down the corridor.

When they were outside of the prison, Harry squinted at the starry night sky. How long since he had breathed fresh air? He looked around - waves broke against the rocky shore. Malfoy grabbed Harry's arm tightly and Disapparated them from the stony island. When they landed again, it was in front of tall, elaborate iron gates. Harry recognized it as the entrance to Malfoy Manor.

His heartbeat quickened. He was alone with Malfoy and no other Death Eaters in sight. This might be his only chance to... He bit his lip.

Malfoy turned around. "Potter, come." Harry didn't move, and Malfoy raised his wand. "Don't make this more difficult than it already is." His voice broke at the end of the sentence, and his eyes glistened even more in the light from the night stars. Harry thought the moonlight softened Malfoy's face, before internally berating himself.

With his heart pounding against his chest, Harry walked tentatively forward, his hands slowly tightening into fists. Malfoy was standing just at the entrance to the gates, barely a foot inside. Harry got closer to him. He had to act... now!

Harry brought his arms together and slammed them into Malfoy's stomach as hard as he could, driving the weight of his body into the punch. It was an awkward impact because of the way he was tied up, but it was hard enough to make Malfoy cry out in pain. However, Malfoy still managed to hold on to his wand, so Harry hit him again, this time blocked by Malfoy's arm over his stomach.

"What the fuck!" Malfoy shouted.

Harry was panicking, and his blood raced through his veins. He threw his whole body onto Malfoy's, causing them both to go crashing into the ground. Malfoy's wand finally fell out of his hand and rolled away along the gravel path.

Struggling to get up with his hands tied together, Harry used his elbow to crawl toward the wand. However, Malfoy was under him, and he pushed Harry away so harshly that he rolled onto his side. Harry attempted to kick him on the legs, in the groin, and anywhere else he could reach.

"Stop, Potter," Malfoy cried out, his face pink and contorted in rage.

"Get off me, you stupid fuck!" Harry yelled, still trying to kick Malfoy away.

"Stop it!" Malfoy grunted as Harry's foot lodged into his thigh. He managed to get a grip on Harry's shirt, and he climbed on top of him.

The wand was just out of his reach. All he had to do was stretch his arms over his head, and he'd reach it. Harry felt it under his fingertips, but when he tried to grab it, he only managed to press the side and make it roll away even further. Malfoy punched him in the face, and he brought his hands back down to cradle his nose.

"OW!" Harry buried his face in his palms.

Before he knew it, Malfoy had scrambled up his body and reached the wand. He found himself with his face pressed against Malfoy's stomach. His nose seared with pain. Harry screamed, his voice muffled by Malfoy's body. He felt the squeeze of Malfoy's thighs around his chest.

Malfoy sat up and crushed him, blowing the air out of Harry's lungs. The point of the wand was millimeters from his face.

"Move, and I'll Crucio you," Malfoy threatened. "Don't think that I won't."

Harry groaned; it felt like there was a fire raging between his eyes. "You broke my nose... again, he added, slanting his eyes in Malfoy's direction."

Malfoy sighed heavily, muttering, "Bloody hell," under his breath. "Episkey!"

His nose felt even hotter than before, and for a moment, he thought he would be blinded by the searing burn. Then it became cold as ice, and he shivered. Finally, the pain completely evaporated.

Harry realized, with horror, where his hands were positioned. When he had brought his hands down from his face, Malfoy had already climbed on top of him and had been sitting on his chest. Therefore, Harry didn't realize that he had let his hands rest against Malfoy's groin. When he felt the solid press and warmth under his hand, he looked down to see that he was touching Malfoy between his legs, his knuckles brushing the fabric of Malfoy's black trousers.

Malfoy noticed where Harry's eyes were, and, after a moment of blushing and staring open-mouthed, he quickly rolled off Harry.

"Get up," he said, waving his wand in an upward motion.

Harry's heart dropped. He wondered what punishment would be in store for him now. Imagining it made him queasy, so he closed his eyes and did as Malfoy said. He rolled over onto his stomach and pitted his elbows into the rough gravel. Using the ground as leverage, he managed to right himself to a kneeling position.

"Up!" Malfoy added, waving his wand frantically. When Harry managed to finally get himself onto his feet, Malfoy stepped behind him and poked him in the back with the tip of the wand. "Don't you dare try anything like that again," he warned in a low voice. "Now, walk."

Harry lifted his head to look in the direction of the manor. It rose in front of him, blocking the starlight. He was struck with a sudden sense of panic.

Turning to Malfoy, he asked, "You don't want to take me there, do you? You'll let me go."

Malfy swallowed. His voice sounded strained. "No, Potter."

"Please, Draco." Harry tried to scan his mind for ways to appeal to him. "Remember I helped you when I could? Remember the fire? Please just..."

Even as he spoke the words, he knew it was impossible. Malfoy couldn't show up empty handed. He had already failed Voldemort once, and this time, he probably wasn't getting another chance. In fact, for the first time since Malfoy came to collect him, Harry realized that it was generous of Voldemort to entrust Malfoy with this task at all.

"I can't!" Malfoy brought a hand up to card through his hair. "I told you already - don't make it harder than it already is!"

Harry's mind raced with possibilities - options, solutions. There had to be a way. This couldn't be final. "Come with me!" he said, raising his brows. Yes, this was it! This was the answer. "Let's go together now! We'll find the Order, and you can join us."

Draco's scrunched up brow fell. Harry could have been imagining it, but he thought he saw his bottom lip tremble.

"Just Disapparate us right now, Draco! Please!"

There was a moment where Harry thought Draco would say yes, and his heart raced with the terrifying, yet exhilarating, sensation of hope.

Draco tightened his fist around his wand and raised it back to chest-level. "No," he said sternly, sounding more sure of himself than he had all night. "Go."

Harry sighed, and he turned toward the house again with sagging shoulders. They walked between the row of hedges that framed the drive.

When they got inside, Draco shoved Harry so hard that he fell onto one knee. He realized why when he raised his head and looked directly at the grand staircase; Lucius was climbing down the last step.

"Ah, Potter," Lucius said, walking to them swiftly. "Very good, Draco, you may go. I'll take him from here."

His white blond hair, usually straight and shiny, hung in dull tangles around his face. His cheeks were fuzzy with stubble and gaunt with shadows. However, his scowl had the same bite that it always did.

Harry frowned. "Fallen on rough times?"

"I think it is you who have fallen now, Potter."

Harry clenched his jaw, not wanting to test his limits any more than that. There was no telling what was in store for him from this point onward, and it was difficult to keep reminding himself to stay silent, to avoid angering anyone. When he'd mouthed off at Lestrange in the beginning, he was treated with absolutely no mercy. He doubted that Lucius Malfoy would be any different.

Lucius' eyes jerked sharply to Draco, who was still standing behind Harry. "I told you that you can leave."

Harry looked behind him and saw Draco's whole body tense. He looked down at Harry for a fleeting moment with those big, shining eyes, and Harry wondered what he was thinking. After a moment, Draco's mouth turned into a thin line, and he walked through the doorway on his right. The heels of his boots clicked on the marble floor.

Harry's eyes drifted downward to his boots, following the sound that they made. They were leather, smudged with dirt from their fight. His vision followed the line of his legs in fitted trousers, up to his square back in the tailored blazer. It suddenly seemed so familiar, this image of Draco as Harry had seen it countless times at Hogwarts. His paleness and blond hair provided such stark contrast against the black clothing.

When he had walked through the doorway, Draco turned his head to look back for a moment, before...

The doors slammed shut with an ominous bang that echoed in the foyer.

Harry whipped his head around to see Lucius holding his wand up. Then he pointed it at Harry.

Harry's breath caught in his throat as he prepared for the Cruciatus or some other painful, torturous spell to be cast upon him. He clenched his teeth, bracing himself for the hit. Surprisingly, Lucius muttered, "Relashio, and the bonds snapped from his wrists.

"Come over here, Potter," Lucius said smoothly, beckoning Harry with two fingers.

Harry swallowed. He had been expecting much worse. He placed one hand on the ground, intending to launch himself up from his position on one knee.

Lucius tisked. "Crawl," he said lazily.

Harry frowned. "No."

"If you will not crawl willingly, then I will force you," Lucius said, pointing his wand again. "But one way or another, you will crawl to me."

"Go ahead then, and make me!" Harry felt the temperature rise in his cheeks. "I'll never do it otherwise."

"Rodolphus said you were learning to be … more pliant." He licked his lips, and Harry grimaced. "I see that he was mistaken."

Harry trembled, and his cheeks burned with anger. He gritted out, "Fuck you."

"Evanesco!"

Harry gasped. He was naked. He shivered, and his hands flew up to cover his bits.

Somehow, this was worse than what he'd been forced to do in Azkaban. Even there, he'd been allowed his modesty. Something about not being given the decency of clothing made him feel weaker than ever. The chill in the room gave him goosebumps, and he clenched his arse unwittingly against the cool air. To his horror, he realized that his eyes were starting to sting, and he blinked rapidly in an attempt to compose himself.

"Come here," Lucius warned in a low growl, "or I'll strap a leash around your neck and pull you here, myself."

Considering how mortified he already was, the thought of further humiliation made Harry feel like he would be sick all over the pristine marble floor. He imagined himself crawling to Lucius' feet willingly, and then he imagined himself crawling at the end of a leash. Admittedly, there as the tiniest bit of pride left in crawling willingly, as Harry saw it. Therefore, with burning cheeks, he lowered his palms flat on the floor.

"Good," Lucius grunted.

Harry began to crawl, making his way towards Lucius' feet. He stopped at the pointed boots, which were covered in scale-like leather.

"Follow me." He turned to walk back up the stairs.

Crawling naked behind Lucius Malfoy was like nothing Harry had ever experienced. He found himself performing in a daze, his thoughts frozen. Even sucking Rodolphus Lestrange's cock hadn't made him feel as low as this; he hadn't had to mentally remove himself in order to get through that experience. Harry had fought Lestrange with all he'd had, and he'd lost. He'd punched and scratched, cursed and raged, and endured the Cruciatus for as long as he physically could. When he'd given up in the end, it was not for a lack of trying. There had been a fight. And there was something honorable in that.

But there was nothing honorable in crawling behind Lucius. All it took was a simple, harmless threat to bring Harry to his hands and knees. Maybe he really had been broken in, like Lestrange told Malfoy.

No, Harry thought, gritting his teeth. He wasn't broken; not now, not ever. He was tired, he told himself.

The crawl up the stairs and down the shadowy corridor proved shorter than he'd anticipated, he was so lost in thought. He realized that Lucius was taking him into a bedroom.

"Go crawl over there, next to the bed," Lucius directed with a gesture of his hand. The thick opal and emerald rings on his fingers gleamed as he pointed casually in the direction of the four-poster. "Stay there quietly until I'm ready."

Harry did as he was told, and he crawled so close to the bed that the bedding brushed his skin. It was a plush comforter made of dark red satin. The bed frame was an ornate mahogany, and it stood out sickeningly against the blood-colored dressings all around it. The curtains, the pillow shams, and the blankets were all various shades of red, burgundy, and maroon. By the windows, which were covered in heavy, crushed velvet curtains in another dark shade of red, sat a small lamp made of crystal. It emitted a sickening orange glow, which highlighted the furniture in its vicinity. Just being in the room caused the hairs on the back of Harry's neck to prickle.

There was a click, and Harry realized that the door had been locked. His heart dropped when he saw Lucius undoing his trousers, and he inhaled deeply to keep from panicking. Lucius was approaching him now, and Harry couldn't take his eyes off the thick cock that hung limply between the man's thighs.

Lucius sat on the edge of the bed, and Harry inched away from him.

"I'll explain things to you, Potter." Lucius' expression was mostly blank and cold, but Harry noticed slight creases between his eyebrows. "The Dark Lord desires... well..." Lucius faltered, a sneer creeping up his lip as if he were considering something completely revolting. "The simple fact of the matter is that he desires you. And as it is, it falls to the rest of us to give him exactly what he wants. Therefore, being one of the Dark Lord's most trusted men, along with Rodolphus Lestrange, whom you … know..."

He was rambling, Harry realized with bemusement. Lucius Malfoy was rambling like a nervous schoolboy. If the situation were not as such, and if he himself did not also have his cock hanging out, Harry might have been able to find the whole thing comical.

"Well," Lucius continued, "the point is that I will be training you. For the next month."

Harry could only stare wide-eyed and whisper, "Train?"

"Yes," Lucius said in a strange, hollow voice. He pumped his cock, looking down at the floor instead of meeting Harry's eyes. "You know what to do with this, I presume?"

Harry looked at Lucius' cock, the head peeking in and out from within Lucius' loose fist. It was thicker than Lestrange's. Harry really didn't want to put his mouth to it; the thought alone made his stomach turn. He frowned as it grew pinker and fuller by the second.

Lucius continued to pump himself. "Come here," he instruscted.

Harry could tell that he didn't want this, and that he wanted to get it over with. It was somehow worse that Lucius didn't even want him; that the thought of Harry putting his mouth on his cock made him feel as sick as it made Harry. His patience was waning, and his tone made that fact perfectly clear.

Harry crawled to settle between Lucius' legs, then sat down on his heels. His stomach lurched painfully. This was much worse than Azkaban or Lestrange had ever been. For some strange reason, his mind traveled out the heavy, locked door and down the corridor, all the way down the staircase and across the hall, through the doorway... to Draco.

Harry felt vomit rise in his throat, and he choked it down with a painful, burning swallow. He brought his hands up to cover his mouth, and he felt his stomach contract as he gagged. Thankfully, he managed to keep from being sick, but he did feel dizzy. His vision spun in front of him, and he wasn't able to catch himself before hitting the floor.

When Harry awoke, he was staring at the canopy of a bed. He sat up panting, and looked around.

Draco was sitting at the edge of the bed, looking at him with a worried expression.

"Oh, fuck!" Startled, Harry jumped back and hit the headboard with a dull thud. "You scared me."

Draco's eyes hardened and his mouth became a thin line. It was only then that Harry noticed he had his wand out.

"What are you doing with that?"

Draco glanced down at his wand and then tucked it away inside his blazer. "You've been passed out for an hour. I had to perform an Enervate on you."

Harry exhaled, only just realizing that he'd been holding his breath. "Oh." He winced when the memories of why he had fainted came back to him. He brought his hand to his forehead, which felt warm under his palm.

Then he realized that he was still naked.

"Er..." His cheeks burned, and he grabbed his limp cock in one hand, hiding it from sight; his other hand pressed protectively against his bollocks.

Draco sneered. "There's no need to be embarrassed. You'll be used to it soon enough." His back was rigidly straight, as if the bed were made of hot coals and he couldn't stand sitting on the comforter.

"You know what Voldemort wants from me, don't you?"

Draco flinched, his sneer deepening. However, his eyes resumed that same shining quality that they had when he'd seen Harry in the cell in Azkaban. "Of course, I do," he said defensively.

"And you're okay with this?" Harry asked, challenging him. If he had to suffer through this, then he'd certainly try to make Draco as uncomfortable as he possibly could.

"What do you want from me, Potter?" Draco snapped.

"It's not that I want anything from you. I just don't see how you can watch and do nothing."

"I don't expect you to understand my position."

Harry let out a dry laugh. "Trust me, I know you well enough. You're scared of him."

"I'd be an idiot not to be scared," Malfoy said with a frown, his cheeks coloring pink. His eyes narrowed, before adding, "And you don't know me at all."

"Of course I do," Harry said, rolling his eyes. He sighed. "Is your father... Is he really upset?"

"No!" Draco shouted. To Harry's surprise, he stood completely off the bed and looked down at Harry with a completely red face and a scowl. "My father has no interest in you, obviously!"

Harry, dumbfounded, simply stared at him from his position on the bed with wide eyes and parted lips.

"How dare you insinuate such a thing," he continued, his hands balled into fists. "He is acting under orders, or he would never tou..." Draco seemed to need a moment to gasp for air, and Harry thought his eyes got even brighter. "He has no choice, or he'd never do it! We'll all be killed, don't you understand? You are such a little, pathetic twat, and I cannot believe this is happening..."

His voice broke on those last three words, and he said them in a rushed whisper. With that, Draco landed back on the bed with his back to Harry, causing the whole mattress to bounce under the sudden force of his weight. His hands gripped the bedspread, and his shoulders trembled. Harry could barely see his face, but he was sure that Draco was wincing in his attempt not to cry in front of him.

"You think it's bad for you?" Harry asked, feeling his pulse race. "What do you think it's like for me?"

"Well, that's not really my problem."

"It's certainly your problem if it means I'll have to be sucking your dad's cock every day, preparing for Vol-"

Harry didn't have time to finish his sentence, because with a sickening crack, Malfoy's fist connected with his jaw. Harry yelled out in agony. He clutched his jaw with his hand, moaning softly into his palm. That was the second time that Draco had broken a bone in twenty-four hours.

"It makes me sick," Draco spat, and Harry heard the stomping of his feet and the slam of the door.

Harry's vision became watery with tears, and he blinked them away. Before he knew it, a house elf was in to heal him.

Harry wasn't allowed to wear clothes for the remainder of his time at the manor. Eleven days passed since Draco had punched him, and he hadn't seen him anywhere. The only place he was allowed to go, outside of his room and its on-suite bath, was down the hall to Lucius' red room. And he had to crawl every time. Lucius said it was in preparation for the Dark Lord; Harry was being trained as Voldemort's personal slave, and this was how he was expected to conduct himself at Hogwarts.

Because the Dark Lord had moved his entire operation to the school, after having won it in the battle. Harry was secretly glad that there were no more Death Eaters roaming the halls of the manor and otherwise witnessing his debasement. In fact, he was also glad, yet strangely disappointed, that he had not stumbled upon Draco at all either. He knew that Draco must be ignoring him, embarrassed and horrified by the entire situation.

However, Harry thought it was rather selfish of him. Although he could understand Draco's point, he still felt a twinge of annoyance when he thought that Draco was purposely going out of his way not to see him. If anyone should have the right to be horrified, it should be Harry. That stupid git was just the same as ever; not that Harry had expected him to change. He knew Draco, just like he'd told him.

The more Harry thought about it, while he remained locked in his room for hours at a time, the more he realized that he did, in fact, know Draco very well. He knew the way Draco would react to stress, to embarrassment, to jealousy... he knew him almost as well as he knew himself. In fact, even more so, because Harry could predict Draco's actions, whereas his own still baffled him from time to time.

He found, to his surprise and confusion, that he wished Draco were around more. He was the only familiar thing in this strange place. Draco was nothing compared to the "real Death Eaters" as Harry referred to them in his head. He wanted to see him, to talk to him - even if it was only to argue - because… well... he didn't really know why.

But Draco was clearly uninterested in conversing with him, and it made Harry desire to hex him.

Therefore, it came as a shock to Harry when one day he returned from his daily visit to Lucius, to find Draco standing in his room. He saw his back, his arse, his legs... all in black. He was facing the window, his hands clasped behind his back.

Harry quickly got off his hands and knees and rose to his feet, stumbling over himself in his haste. "Draco?" he asked, feeling himself blushing.

Was Draco aware that he had to crawl? Surely, he must know where Harry had been, just now.

When Draco turned around, Harry found that his heart started beating fast. He hadn't realized just how much he had been aching to see Draco's face again, and he exhaled in relief. Draco's light fringe casually swept across his forehead, framing his brows. His eyes were large and expressive, and they retained that shining quality, like he was constantly worried and on edge.

"Hello," Draco said quietly, turning his body fully to face Harry. He paused for a moment, apparently trying to find his words. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he settled on, "How are you?"

Harry couldn't bring himself to scoff. In fact, he didn't want to be biting at all; it was such a sudden relief to have Draco present, that he didn't want to chance angering him and scaring him away again.

"I'm alright," Harry said.

He became quite aware of his nakedness again, and he sat down on the bed, hoping this would provide him with a bit of cover.

Draco frowned; he didn't look like he believed him.

"I mean it," Harry insisted, "I'm alright." He tried to laugh a bit, to loosen the tension. "It's not bad here; better than Azkaban, for sure. At least I get a bed here."

Draco sighed, and he came closer. With a flick of his wand, he made a chair levitate through the air to land facing the bed, and he sat. "It's better now that the Dark Lord is gone." The edge of Draco's mouth twitched, as if he wanted to smile but simply couldn't bring himself to do so.

"I can imagine." Without really considering it, and just because it was nagging at his brain, Harry blurted out, "Where have you been?"

Draco looked taken aback; his eyebrows shooting up. "Here," he said simply. "Obviously. Where else would I go?"

"I know, but it's just..." Harry bit his lip; he really shouldn't be admitting this. "I haven't seen you for days. I wondered if you'd gone somewhere. Left the manor, maybe."

"No," Draco said slowly, "I have nowhere to go. Not like I'm given any big duties," he added rather bitterly, his lip turning up in a sneer. "Our main responsibility now is to train you."

"So why aren't you?" Harry felt his cheeks heat more than ever. What the bloody fuck was he doing?

"I..." Draco faltered, his pink lips parted.

Harry stared at them, and then put a hand over his cock to hide its minute twitch.

Quietly, in a voice barely above a whisper, Draco said, "We are." His cheeks colored pink, and his next comment sounded strained. "What do you think my father's doing?"

Harry licked his bottom lip. "Right."

"Or haven't you noticed?"

This was the first thing he'd said all day that was laced with his usual venom. Harry realized that he didn't mind; it only meant that Draco was starting to become angry.

"It bothers you, doesn't it?" Harry asked bluntly.

"Of course it bothers me!" Then he muttered more to himself than to Harry, "Bloody idiot."

"Then why don't you do something about it?"

Harry could hardly breathe. His lungs were straining to get any air. He couldn't believe what he was insinuating. However, Draco didn't seem to understand him.

"I told you, Potter," he said dangerously, his shoulders tensing up. "There's nothing I can do."

"There is something..." Harry raised a brow at him, hoping he would get the hint; but apparently, Draco was thicker than he thought.

Leaning back in the armchair, he scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Whatever breakout plan you have in mind, I don't want to hear it. You better believe that I'll report you in an instant if I notice even the smallest attempt to escape. I won't have my family butchered because of you..." His rant turned into mumbled grumbling as he stared purposely out the window, his arms crossed against his chest.

He looked like a petulant child. Rather typical of him, Harry thought.

He could see that he was going to have to spell it out. So, with a shaky inhale, Harry proceeded to say, "Draco, I was wondering if it's your father who has to do this... this training. Why can't you do it just the same?"

Malfoy stared at him with his mouth open, and Harry self-consciously bit his lip.

Because Malfoy wasn't saying a word, and his face wasn't unfreezing from its expression of shock, Harry continued.

"I'm sure you could do it just as well as your father," he baited. "In fact, better than him. And I..." This was the part that made him blush the hardest... Mainly because he wasn't sure that it was completely untrue. "I would honestly prefer you."

Draco looked like he had stopped breathing. He was so tense that he seemed to be made of stone. Harry shrunk back against the headboard, wondering if he had just fucked up royally. He'd probably never see Malfoy again, as the boy was sure to disappear for an entire month from this point on.

Then he saw Draco's eyes move from his face to follow the line of his body. He had never been more aware of his own nakedness. Draco's eyes darkened as he scanned Harry's figure, and Harry found his heart beating madly again. To his dismay, his blood started to rush to his cock, and he brought knees up to further hide himself. However, he didn't realize that this would put his bollocks and arse on display, right in Draco's face. When he saw Draco stare at his arse, he quickly let his legs fall, laying out straight on the mattress.

This seemed to break Draco of his reverie, because he looked back at Harry's face. He exhaled loudly through his nose, and his cheeks colored pink.

For the second time, he stormed out of Harry's room without a word.

That night in bed was terrible. Harry kicked his covers off and let out a long, tortured sigh. What had possessed him to proposition Malfoy like that? He'd really lost his mind. It was true what they said about Azkaban; the place drove a person mad.

Instead of trying to come up with of a plan of escape, Harry was thinking about how much more preferable it would be to suck Draco's cock instead of his dad's. Harry shivered, the thought alone making his cock fill. He groaned and rolled over onto his stomach, clutching the plush, soft pillow tightly around his face. Maybe he could suffocate himself.

To get through sucking Lucius's cock, Harry forced himself to do something that was extremely difficult for him; he tried to shut down his mind. Not even in Azkaban had he had to do this. Maybe it was easier to suck off Lestrange because they didn't have history like he and Lucius did. It was less embarrassing with a stranger. Harry was sort of faceless... in a way. At least, that's how he thought of it. He was no one, and Lestrange was no one, and they meant nothing to one another. He had fought, he had lost, and he took the result with his head high and his pride mostly intact.

But with Lucius, Harry couldn't put his lips against the thick, red head of his cock without feeling light headed. He managed to keep from fainting the second day that he went to see him. However, he had almost vomited all over his cock and bollocks. He certainly gagged enough times, despite Lestrange having rid him of that reflex long ago.

As he lay in bed every night afterward, Harry thought more and more about how much better Draco would be. He quickly found that the thought alone made his heart feel lighter. Before he knew it, he was fantasizing about how Draco's cock might look. How it might taste.

Harry groaned again and lifted his head from the pillow, inhaling fresh air. The sheets caressed his naked skin as he rolled around. This was definitely better than Azkaban, where he had nearly died of cold. Maybe it was too nice here, and that's why he hadn't really thought about escape for days now. His main concern was why Malfoy seemed to have been ignoring him. What a fool he was. Harry wondered if his obsession with Malfoy would ever come to an end; because clearly, it raged even at the worst of times. In fact, it seemed to him that the worse off he was, and the more dire the situation became, the more bloody obsessed he became with Draco Malfoy. It had happened before, at the height of his paranoia about the Death Eaters, and it was happening again now.

There was a knock on his door at mid morning, and Harry turned his head just in time to see it swing open.

A house elf was standing there, wringing his hands together. "Harry Potter is to be going to Master Draco's quarters today," he reported.

Harry was sitting on the armchair that Malfoy had occupied only yesterday, except he had brought it over by the window so that he could stare out at the gardens. The scene was one so untouched by all the horrors in the world - the light pink flowers still bloomed lushly, and the bees still buzzed in haphazard circles - that it calmed Harry's nerves some.

He frowned at the house elves' instructions and furrowed his brow. "What?" He thought he'd probably heard wrong.

"Harry Potter," the elf repeated, "is to be going to Master Draco's quarters. Not Master Malfoy's. Gilly will be leading you. Come this way."

Harry stood from the chair and followed the elf out of the room. They went down the same corridor that Harry was used to crawling, except this time they turned a corner and walked much further. The manor was huge, and apparently Draco's quarters were in an entirely separate wing.

The house elf stopped in front of an ornately carved wooden door, and it turned its head to look over its shoulder at Harry. "Gilly will be leaving you now." With a pop, he disappeared.

Harry stared at the door for a moment, trying to decide if he should knock or simply pull the handle. Before he could make up his mind, the door swung open and Draco appeared. However, he didn't look like himself. Or, like his recent self - he looked much more like the angry, cold Draco from sixth year.

"Why aren't you on your knees?" Draco asked.

Harry's lips parted slightly in surprise. He knelt down, and then he placed his hands in front of him so that he was on all fours. Titling his head back slowly, he looked into Draco's eyes. Surprisingly, he felt his cock fill already. It was a strange feeling to be on the floor in front of Draco, and it set his nerves on fire. His skin tingled with anticipation as he crawled behind Draco, into the room.

Draco's room was like a breath of fresh air compared to his father's and to Harry's dreary grey traditional. Draco's was blue, and it reminded Harry of being in the sky. The cream colored bedding and furnishings were like clouds against the pale blue walls. Sunshine streamed through the open window, as a warm breeze ruffled the sheer, gauzy drapes. Harry never wanted to leave. He was immediately possessed by a feeling of comfort.

"Come," Draco commanded, but he was not harsh or mean. He sat down on a cream-colored chaise in front of his monstrous bed.

Harry did not hesitate to obey, but crawled quickly toward him. He was aware of how his cock swung and hit his thighs as he moved, but instead of shaming him like it normally did, it filled him with desire. He wanted to do things with Draco...

He stopped in front of him and sat on his heels, letting his hands fall into his lap.

"You are not assuming the proper position," Draco said. "Have you been taught nothing so far?"

Harry had no idea what he was talking about, and it must have shown on his face because Draco scowled.

"I see I'll have a long job ahead of me." He shouted, "Place your hands on your thighs! Sit up straight!"

Harry flinched, not expecting such force and command from Draco. Nonetheless, he did as he was told, placing his palms flat on his thighs.

"Spread your legs more."

Harry's pulse raced, and he felt short of breath. It was the first time in months that he felt so aroused. He started to feel dizzy, and he licked his lips. With his back straight, his chest pushed forward, and his knees spread, Harry's entire cock and bollocks were clearly on display. He felt degraded, embarrassed... and completely turned on.

To his disappointment, Draco seemed to be immune to that effect. He looked perfectly composed and calm. "Good," he said. "This is how you present to your Master when he calls for you. You are to be compliant, and quiet."

He stood up, and his groin was suddenly in Harry's face. Harry swallowed; his nose was almost touching the black fabric of Draco's trousers. He imagined how soft it would feel against his face if he were to lean forward... and how hard the cock underneath would be, pressing against his nose and cheek.

Before he had even finished fantasizing, Draco had taken a step to the side. He walked around Harry's kneeling form.

"What a good slave," he said, trailing his hands along Harry's shoulder and then threading his fingers through Harry's hair. Harry's body thrummed from the touch, and, before he knew it, he was leaning his head back against Draco's forearm. "Good slaves get rewarded by their Masters," he continued saying as he reached Harry's other side.

He knelt down beside Harry and gripped his hair painfully, causing Harry to yell out as his head was tugged backward. He had to reach a hand back to steady himself against the carpet before falling. Draco grabbed him by the waist with his other hand and turned his head roughly to face him. In an instant, he pressed his lips against Harry's.

Harry was so shocked by the softness, and by Draco's touch on his bare skin, that he opened his mouth and let Draco's tongue in. He sighed as Draco continued to kiss him, holding him firmly in his arms. Their tongues touched, and Harry let Draco bite his lips and then kiss them better, becoming lost in the sensations. When Draco finally pulled away, Harry was dizzy, and his cock was completely hard.

He exhaled roughly. "Draco..."

Draco let him go, and Harry almost fell backwards. His arm had gone limp while he was in Draco's embrace, and he needed to find his balance again.

"You will address me as Sir." Draco sat back down on the chaise in front of Harry, his face stern. "Now, undress me."

The command sent a renewed flare of heat through Harry's groin. He didn't know where to start. The thought of touching Draco was both awkward and maddening.

He decided the first thing he should do would be to remove Draco's blazer. He sat up straighter and reached out both hands, gripping the fabric and the buttons in his fingers. Pushing the buttons through the holes was simple, and he had the jacket undone instantly. Slowly, he pulled it off Draco's shoulders and down his arms. Harry had to sit up and lean into him to pull it all the way off. His body was pressed flush against Draco's; his naked skin against Draco's clothed torso. His cock leaked when he inhaled the scent of Draco's cologne.

He then took up each of Draco's wrists to pull off the sleeves. When his fingers brushed the sensitive skin there, Draco exhaled roughly through his nose. Harry paused, realizing the effect that this touch was having. He tried to be inconspicuous and casual as he rubbed his thumb in circles over the delicate skin on the inside of Draco's wrist, busying his other hand with unbuckling Draco's trousers. He felt Draco's fingers curl up under his hand.

Harry let go of Draco's hand and heard it flop heavily against Draco's thigh. He unzipped Draco's trousers and saw the line of his cock through the thin fabric of his pants. Swallowing and trying to control his ragged breathing, Harry tentatively touched the hardness that pushed up against the cotton boxers. He sensed the muscles in Draco's legs stiffen, and he felt his cock get even harder under his fingertips. It was hot, and it warmed his palm even through his pants. Harry eagerly found the slit in the fabric and attempted to pull Draco's cock through; he wanted to see it.

"No, no," Draco mumbled, clearing his throat and lifting his hips off the chaise. "Take them off."

"Oh, I..." Harry didn't want to tell him that he had assumed this was the way to do it. After he had passed out the first time, Lucius had decided he might prevent that from happening if he kept both his pants and trousers on, and only exposed as little of himself as necessary.

Draco shoved his own trousers down with frantic force before reaching out a hand to grab Harry at the nape of the neck. His fingers curled roughly in Harry's hair, and he pulled his face forward. "Come," Draco half whispered, half grunted. "Come here."

Harry sighed and felt his whole body fill with need. His mouth practically salivated as he inhaled the musky scent of Draco's cock. When his tongue touched the head, he groaned at the same time that Draco did. As much dick as he'd sucked over the past few months, he hadn't experienced the flood of desire that consumed him at this moment. Draco's cock was velvety and soft, while at the same time hard. Harry kissed the head as if he were sucking a straw, relishing the spongy feeling against his lips. He wanted to have this cock in his mouth. He wanted to show Draco just how well he could please him.

Draco grunted and pulled Harry's head down, his hand planted firmly on the back of Harry's neck. Harry placed both hand on the inside of Draco's thighs and pushed his knees further apart so that he could get his mouth as low to his groin as possible. Draco's cock was hot against his tongue, and as he got lower, it was hot against the inside of his throat too. It's girth stretched him, and for once, he was happy to take it. When his nose pressed against coarse, blond hair, he groaned.

Draco's hand automatically tightened against his neck. Harry heard a breathy, "Fuck," above him. Filled with a sense of satisfaction, Harry slid all way back up, until only the head was between his lips.

Looking up, he stared Draco in the eye as he sucked hard all the way back down his length. Draco moaned and petted the hair at the nape of his neck.

Harry fisted the bottom of his shaft whilst continuing to suck him, his own cock throbbing as he listened to all the noise Draco made. It was much too soon when he felt Draco's bollocks draw up. Like a dutiful slave - like he'd been taught - he braced himself to take the load that shot into his mouth. Using his thumb and forefinger, he kept milking it until the end, and even then licked the head to retrieve every drop of Draco's sticky come.

Draco pulled him up by his hair, and Harry yelled out in pain. He fell on top of Draco, his elbows against the chaise on either side of Draco's hips.

Draco grabbed his chin and raised his head to look up at him. His eyebrows were furrowed; he looked angry, and Harry didn't know why. "Has anyone ever told you how fucking good you are at sucking cock?"

Harry swallowed, the taste of come in his mouth. Unconsciously, he let his tongue slide over his bottom lip and only noticed he was doing this when Draco's eyes followed its movements. Even his lips tasted like Draco's cock.

"Well?" Draco urged, his voice rough.

"Yes." He felt Draco's thighs squeeze him, and he breathlessly added, "Sir."

Something flashed in Draco's eyes, and he leaned forward, planting a kiss solidly against Harry's lips.

A few days later, Harry eagerly crawled down the corridor to Draco's room. He felt as though pride wasn't even a question; all he wanted was to experience the warmth and comfort that came with Draco's presence. Being with Draco was like breathing air again after months of suffocation.

Every day, he spent hours in Draco's room being petted and caressed. Draco made his body light up with his touch. He played with Harry's cock until Harry whimpered incoherently and came seeing stars, and they took naps in Draco's huge bed. One day, he let Draco fuck him, and Draco didn't let him leave his room, or his arms, until the next morning. During the afternoons, the windows were always open to the summer air, and Harry felt the sunlight on his back whenever he was on his knees sucking Draco's cock. It didn't feel like training - it felt like sex. Real, passionate sex.

When Draco's door came into sight, he felt a fluttering sensation in his stomach. It opened just as he reached it, and Draco looked at him. However, instead of lust or pride, Draco's face fell into the same expression that Harry had seen upon it at Azkaban. Suddenly, Harry's heart felt heavy.

"Master," Harry said, looking up at him with a frown, "am I not doing something right?"

Draco grimaced. When he opened his mouth, his words were a cold drawl. "I'm not your Master. The Dark Lord is." He stepped aside and held the door wider so that Harry could crawl through.

However, Harry felt frozen to the spot. His mind buzzed again suddenly, like it hadn't done for days. When he opened his mouth to speak, he felt like he was going to be sick.

"Come, pet," Draco said quietly, sounding resigned to the task. He didn't even look at him.

Harry clenched his jaw. He suddenly felt hot. Very hot. Like his skin was on fire. With a push, he righted himself into a standing position and felt a thrill when Draco flinched.

"What are you doing?" Draco asked.

Harry stomped into the room, grabbing Draco by the collar as he went, and pulled him inside. The door slammed behind them.

Harry rounded on him, not letting go of his shirt. "I can't believe I let myself get so carried away."

Draco's hands rose to grip Harry's, his eyes shining brightly and his mouth twisted in anger. "Let me go! Potter, this is not your place!"

"Fuck that, Malfoy," Harry said, unable to suppress his trembling. How could he have been so stupid as to let himself believe that any time he and Draco spent together meant anything. "You are such a piece of shit. You would turn me over to Voldemort right this second if it would save your skin." When Draco didn't say anything but only flushed pink, Harry shook him hard and roared, "Wouldn't you?"

"I don't know!" Draco yelled. "I don't know, it's not that simple!"

Harry released him with one hand and brought his fist back, aiming to knock him across the face. But Draco was quick, and he had his wand out in a second.

"What's happened all of the sudden?" Draco asked, his eyes wide. "What's wrong with you?"

Harry thought he looked strangely hurt. Although his lips were sneering, his eyes betrayed him. This only enraged Harry further, because he couldn't stand himself for actually wanting to run to Draco now; his first instinct was to touch him and kiss his neck to put him at ease again. I'm not angry with you, I want to be with you...

Shaking his head of his stupid, traitorous thoughts, and cursing himself for being weak, Harry turned away from Draco and went to sit on the bed. It was messy and undone, and Harry wondered if the house elves had even touched it at all since yesterday. Had Draco slept in their dirty sheets?

Because that thought also made him crave Draco, Harry shot up as though the bed were on fire.

"Nothing's changed, has it?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" Draco still hadn't lowered his wand - the coward. Even defenceless, emotionally vulnerable, and bloody naked as Harry was, Draco still wasn't lowering his wand.

It made Harry's stomach clench painfully. "Nothing has changed at all," he repeated, though mostly to himself.

Harry was never allowed to eat at the dining table during dinner, but he was expected to stand naked and watch the Malfoys. Lucius said it was something the Dark Lord would expect from a slave. In fact, Lucius made a point of expressing how graciously lenient he was in comparison because he never made Harry serve them, like the Dark Lord undoubtedly would. Harry rolled his eyes.

Since he had started seeing Draco, Harry had taken to standing next to his chair at dinner; he felt somehow safer, as though being near Draco meant no one else could see him naked. From the glare in Lucius' eyes, Harry could tell that he did not approve. He would shoot them a fleeting glance, frowning at the way Draco sometimes touched Harry's hand under the table - but he never said a word.

That night, however, he stood by the far wall like he used to during his initial days at the manor.

Upon being served by the house elves, Lucius addressed Harry without looking at him. "Pet," he said, his voice too loud in the silent room. "Why do you not take your usual place?"

Narcissa's eyes flickered over to Harry, but she looked down at her plate again quickly. She never looked at him, and Harry could only imagine it was because he was constantly nude.

Draco looked as if he hadn't even heard his father; he sliced into his chicken like nothing was happening around him.

Harry waited until Lucius was looking at him in the eye and asked, "Does it bother you, Sir?"

"Yes, it does. Come stand with me." He looked Harry up and down, and Harry felt a shiver. He didn't like how Lucius' eyes lingered a moment too long on his limp cock.

He noticed that at this point, Draco had paused and was looking at him from the corner of his eye, and pretending not to. When Harry glanced in his direction, he quickly looked back at his plate and resumed cutting into his food.

Harry nodded once, and he began to walk over to the table. When he had nearly reached Draco's seat, Lucius called to him.

"No, I think tonight, I want you here with me." He beckoned with his hand. "Come over here," he said, and his eyes glittered when he added, "Pet."

Harry felt another shiver make its way up his spine. Although he hesitated in his path and turned toward Lucius, he looked once more at Draco. He saw that Draco's mouth was a thin line, and he was frozen in his task, arms poised over his plate with utensils in hand. Draco wasn't looking at him, but Harry could tell that he was tense; he was clutching his knife tightly.

He realized that he didn't want Draco to be tense. As if to tell him that he was still his, Harry continued in his path toward him. Once he had reached him, he could feel the nerves draining from Draco's body.

"Potter," Lucius commanded sternly, "that's enough! I agreed when Draco wanted to take over for a while, but the time for games is over. The Dark Lord will come to take you soon, and you are not nearly as ready as you should be. Obviously," he said slightly lower, "Draco wasn't quite up to the task. I think I shall take over again from here."

Draco's head shot up, and he glared at his father.

"Now," Lucius continued, "come." He held out his entire arm as though bidding Harry to fill the space inside it. The thought alone made Harry's hair stand up.

Draco interjected, "I don't think that's necessary, father. He's obedient enough."

"No," Lucius said through gritted teeth, seemingly attempting to stay calm, "he is not. If he were, he'd come here when I call him."

"No."

When all three of them looked at him, Harry realized that he had said that out loud.

"I …" he breathed, not really knowing what he should say. Lucius had been lenient with him thus far, but Harry had seen the cruelty of which he was capable. "I would like to just stay with Draco, if that's okay."

"No, it isn't," Lucius said. He let his hand fall hard against the table and said, "Come here."

"Stop talking to him like that," Draco said.

Harry raised his eyebrows.

Lucius seemed the most shocked of all, his mouth hanging open. At that moment, a house elf popped in and proceeded to refill Lucius' glass with water. Lucius took one look at the elf and shoved him hard until he fell onto the floor with a squeak.

"Got out of here!" he growled at the elf, who apologized and Disapparated.

Harry rolled around in his bed, feeling antsy and overly warm. He wanted to go sleep in Draco's bed, but he cursed himself for the thousandth time. He was being such a bloody girl. Still, he couldn't stop imagining the weight of Draco's arm folding around his waist as he spooned him from behind. It felt as though his entire body ached for it. He contemplated getting out of bed and running down the corridor, before jumping onto his hands and knees outside of Draco's door and tapping on it to wake him up.

But that was unacceptable, and he would not let himself do it.

Then, he heard actual tapping. He turned his head toward the door, and he saw it swinging open. Heart beating wildly, Harry sat up against his headboard and waited. When he caught a glimpse of white blond hair, which caught the moonlight from the bare window, Harry couldn't stop himself from breaking into a wide grin. His body lit up instantly, his cock beginning to take interest.

The person walked through the door, and Harry's heart sank.

"Not one word," Lucius whispered, aiming his wand at Harry's face.

Harry thrashed against Lucius' hands. He shouted and cursed, pulled Lucius' hair, tried to punch him in the face and kick him in the stomach; but his struggle was useless while Lucius had a wand.

"I don't even care if you kill me. I won't let you touch me!" Harry yelled when Lucius spelled his arms above his head. Even as he said the words, he hoped beyond hope that Lucius wouldn't fuck him up too badly if only because he had to deliver him to Voldemort soon.

"Not if I put you under the Imperius," Lucius said menacingly. "I can make you beg for my cock, then. How would you feel about that, hm?"

"I can fight it," Harry croaked, wishing he sounded more confident. Draco had never once threatened to Imperius him... although, that could have been because Harry had never fought him. Still, Harry flung these doubts from his mind.

"Well, then maybe I need to try something simpler."

I want Draco, I want Draco, I want Draco.

Lucius sat up and narrowly avoided Harry's kick. Wand raised and poised, he recited, "Petrificus Totalis."

Harry's eyes were too blurry with tears to see Lucius clearly, but he could make out his looming figure staring at him as he lay immobile on the bed. His arms were frozen overhead where Lucius had placed them, and his legs were spread where Lucius had sunk between them.

Lucius was silent and still for a long while, and Harry wasn't sure what he was going to do. Would he want more? Would this go on all night? Harry closed his eyes - feeling the tears that had welled up finally slide down his cheeks - and he tried to imagine a whole night of this. How many hours were left in the night? Five? He exhaled roughly through his nose and mentally braced himself. He would have to bear it, he had no choice. The best way to prepare himself was to just picture it, so in his mind, he played out the motions as he thought they would be. Lucius would be on top of him the entire time, probably. All he really had to do was try to relax and take it. Remember, he thought, it can't last forever... At least you know that it won't last forever, so you can take it.

However, he did not have to suffer through any more of Lucius' relentless pounding. After standing over him for what felt like an hour - only the sound of his ragged breathing interrupted the silence - his dark figure turned and left the room. Before the door clicked shut, Harry heard a whispered, Finite Incantatem.

Despite not having slept, Harry felt surprisingly energized. He imagined that it was most likely nervous energy radiating through his body and keeping his limbs going, his mind buzzing. He had spent all of five minutes in shocked stillness after Lucius had left, and then he had promptly jumped out of bed.

The first thing he'd done was scrub himself in the bath. At first, he thought he'd be sick if he had to touch hot water; something about heat made him worry it would only allow Lucius' germs to fester on his skin. But the cold water didn't feel clean either, so he turned the temperature to scalding hot and let it burn his insides when he sat in the tub. He didn't care; it was an easier pain to take than the chaos stirring in his head.

After pacing the room in his frantic way for hours all morning, Harry finally perched himself on the arm of the rigid, upholstered chair by the window. Although it was uncomfortable against his recently-bruised body, he sat there for hours, staring through the glass at the bright blue sky. It was such a beautiful day outside, and for reasons he couldn't discern, the fact made Harry's chest swell with hope.

The day was already half gone when Draco came in. Harry heard the familiar grating sound of a doorknob turning, and then Draco's low, quiet voice tinged with accusation.

"What are you doing just sitting there?"

Harry turned his entire body to look at him, then stepped off the chair's armrest and lightly onto the carpet. It was surprisingly easy to look at Draco, despite what his fatehr had done to him only a few hours ago.

Draco did not look happy to see him, though Harry found amusing since Draco was the one who had sought him out. Instead, Draco stood scowling with his arms crossed. "Did you purposely not come to me today, or did it just slip your mind?"

"Oh." Harry made sure to keep his face blank, expression neutral; he was done playing Draco's bitch boy. "I suppose it slipped my mind."

Draco exhaled long and hard through his nose, pursing his lips. He didn't say anything for a moment but continued to stare at Harry as if trying to figure out how to best express his disappointment. It was soon apparent that he'd decided on the anger route. And, possibly, melodrama.

"So what now?" Draco roared, catching Harry off his guard.

Harry flinched and blinked rapidly, attempting to process the sudden burst. It shattered the quiet in the room like a bomb. All the delicately-contained energy Harry had been trying to hold in, and which had only been subdued by the thin blanket of silence, spilled forth.

"What did I ever do to you since you got here?" Draco continued to shout, bringing his arms down from his chest so that he could clench his fists at his sides. "You're being selfish!"

Harry's mouth dropped. "Selfish?"

"Yes." Draco's mouth twitched, and he looked away from Harry's face as if he himself wasn't sure what had just come out of his mouth. "Selfish," he repeated without conviction.

Sometimes, Harry just wanted to punch him. "I'm a prisoner in your home, and I'm being selfish?"

Draco frowned like a child who had been wrongfully berated. "I thought I was taking good care of you."

Harry felt his rage melting away, and he exhaled harshly. Striding forward, he grabbed Draco's face in both hands, making Draco flinch, but forcing him to look into his eyes.

"You did take care of me," Harry insisted. "Very much so." With a hard swallow, unsure if this was something he should say, or why he even wanted to say it, Harry murmured, "Thank you."

Draco's hands flew up to grip Harry's, but Harry did not let go. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed Draco on the lips. They had done it many times - and it had always made Harry's cock hard - but this time, it did something much worse. It made his heart flutter against his chest, and it sent tingles up and down his arms and back.

Harry parted his lips to suck gently at Draco's, and then Draco also parted his lips, and their tongues touched. Harry never knew that being this lightheaded could feel so good. His fingers roamed into Draco's hair, and he pressed himself against the strong, solid weight of Draco's body. The way Draco's hands held him so firmly at the waist made Harry's knees weak. He sighed into the kiss. as their tongues continued to caress each other wetly.

Suddenly, Draco's hands flitted lower, and Harry felt a sharp pain when Draco squeezed both his arse cheeks roughly between his palms. Harry cried out, jumping away.

"What happened?" Draco asked, panting lightly. His lips were pink and his cheeks were flushed. Even as he raised an inquisitive brow, he moved a step closer to Harry, looking like he was ready to reach out his arms again right away and continue where they left off.

Harry only stepped back further. He felt the heat of embarrassment rise on his neck, burning his face. "Nothing, sorry."

Although he had every intention of resuming their kiss, and he told his body to move, he felt frozen. He remained rooted on the spot, wondering why he wanted Draco so badly. It seemed to be an obvious possibility that he only craved Draco's gentleness now for how contrary it felt to the treatment he suffered last night's treatment.

"Did I hurt you?" Draco asked.

"No," Harry said quickly, subconsciously bringing his hands behind his back.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "I did, didn't I?" He smirked carefully and he quietly added, "I didn't know I was so strong."

When he moved closer again, Harry let him and did not move away. However, he turned his head when Draco tried to kiss him.

This time, Draco sighed, and Harry could sense his frustration. Draco dropped his hands, and when Harry looked at him, he was frowning. "I see. I shouldn't have thought... I mean, you didn't come to me. So that's that." He swallowed, and a sneer slowly formed on his lips. "I'm sorry."

Despite wanting to call out to him, Harry couldn't bring himself to stop Draco from leaving.

It wasn't even three hours later when Draco came back, storming through the door and letting it slam against the wall.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He was livid. Harry had never seen him this angry, he realized. There was a tremble - an ominous tremble - that shook Draco's arms as he strode towards Harry, who was again sitting by the window.

"Why?" Draco roared in his face. The tremble had reached his lip. "You could have said something!"

Harry swallowed. He had no words. After all, what could he say to Draco? There was really nothing for it.

Draco started pacing, running a hand through his hair. "I don't even... understand. I don't..." He stopped and straightened, his face lighting up as if he discovered something. "He was jealous! The old arsewipe was jealous, and he just couldn't stand that he wasn't even in control in his own house." He continued to pace again, wringing trembling hands together, muttering, "Of course..."

Draco let out a laugh, dry and high pitched, and Harry wondered if he was going insane. Maybe he had been slowly going insane this whole time, like the rest of them. It suddenly dawned on him like a bludger to the face: Draco shouldn't be here, either.

"We should leave."

Draco turned to him. Instead of anger, Harry saw defeated brows and tired eyes. "How?" Draco asked weakly. "And where the bloody fuck do you think you can go?"

"We," Harry clarified. "And we can go to the Order. We can find them together, I know it will be easy between the both of us."

Draco closed his eyes. "Look I know you won't understand this in a million years - probably because you don't have a father - but my father is... he's lost himself. Everything he ever thought he was. Gone. Sometimes I look at him, and he's just stares into nothingness, like a dead thing. It's like he doesn't know who he is anymore. I feel..."

He never finished what he felt, and Harry was secretly glad. The anger that flared up inside him, coupled with the painful, raw hurt, made him want to punch Draco repeatedly in the face until he bled all over the carpet. However, he found that actually, he was totally drained.

"Fine," he sighed, and turned to look out the window again. It was becoming dark out. "I'm so bloody tired of fighting with you."

He was surprised just how tired he did sound. But the fact was, Draco was Draco, and he was Harry, and they were fools for even kissing. What did he think was going to happen between the two of them?

To his surprise, Draco said, "I'll write Granger. Surely an owl will know where to find her."

They stood at the edge of the garden. Harry only needed to go past the fence to Apparate, and Draco had already melted the iron with a fire charm until there was an opening large enough for him to fit through.

"Just go before I lose my nerve," Draco whispered. He glanced over his shoulder as though a hoard of Death Eaters would suddenly charge out of the trees, sensing his betrayal.

It suddenly hit Harry that Draco might be tortured for this. Or even... He was filled with a rush of panic. "How long before they find out?"

Draco swallowed, his eyes wide like when Harry had first seen him in Azkaban. "You were supposed to be delivered a week from Friday. So... nine days."

"Draco, I..." Harry felt sick. He couldn't bring himself to tell Draco that this could be the last time they ever spoke. Although, he suspected that Draco already knew.

"Hurry up," Draco snapped in a fierce whisper. Granger said she'd be waiting at exactly one, and if you aren't there, she's going to think it's a trap and leave."

"At least I'll be out of here."

Draco scowled. "Yes, but you'll be easily caught again. Just don't miss her."
Harry ducked underneath the melted iron, but before he stepped all the way through, something pulled him back. The thought that he would never see Draco again made his heart feel like it was being clenched in a tight fist.

"What?" Draco asked, his face twisted in confusion. He looked a mess, with dark circles, wet eyes, and messed up fringe.

Harry stepped up to him. "You took such good care of me, Draco," he said, petting the blond hair out of his face. "Such good care of me."

Although Draco looked frozen on the spot, Harry leaned in to kiss him. As his lips touched Draco's for what could be the last time, his entire body ached with hurt. Then Draco wrapped his arms around Harry's back so tightly that Harry actually whimpered out loud. It was a pitiful sound, and Harry felt naked for all it said about his feelings at that moment.

Harry grabbed Draco by the arms and pulled him off. There was nothing more to do but simply leave; and he had forgotten somehow that there was still a war happening beyond the manor's gardens, and he had a role to play.

He ducked under the iron gate once more and didn't even pause when a sharp piece of metal scratched his head. Just a few steps for good measure, and he'd Disapparate.

"Potter, wait!"

Harry turned and saw Draco's blond head bowed as he scrambled through the gate.