FIC: The Ballad of the Merman (NC-17)
Title: The Ballad of the Merman
Author: leontinabowie
Prompt: # 56
Summary: Voldemort won the war, and Harry was given as a gift to Draco. Draco can put up with the screams of people being tortured, because he has the lovely Harry to himself.
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): (highlight for details): *implied torture, non-con, dub-con, drugged sex, character death (off-screen, and neither Harry nor Draco)*
Word Count: 3280
Author's Notes: Thanks to E for the beta.
The Ballad of the Merman
Draco placed one last, lingering kiss on his lover’s lips, before rolling off him and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.
As Draco pulled his trousers back on, he smiled fondly at Harry, who was lying on his back, his chest rising and falling heavily from the aftermath of his orgasm.
Harry turned to face Draco, who frowned as Harry smiled a smile that only seemed to illuminate his glazed eyes. Draco reached towards the bedside cabinet and grabbed the potion antidote, passing it to Harry so that he could become Draco’s Harry again.
Leaving Harry to it, Draco got to his feet and strode towards the gramophone. He lowered the tonearm, and moments later the sounds of sharp violins filled the room, blocking out the screaming coming from the floors below.
The music playing was one of Draco’s favourite pieces - The Ballad of the Merman. It consisted of mostly string instruments, creating a rather tragic atmosphere. The story behind it was of a merman who had fallen in love with a human. The merman tried to entice the human, and as time went on, the human got closer and closer until they fell in the water and drowned, allowing the merman to keep them forever. Tragic; yes, but rather bittersweet, Draco thought.
Besides, Harry preferred to listen to the music rather than the screams of Muggle-borns being tortured, and Draco would do anything to keep Harry happy.
It had been exactly 219 days since Harry had become Draco’s. Draco knew that, not because he had personally kept count, but because every sunrise, Harry would sit on the floor and look out of the large arched window as he scrawled another line into his tally chart.
Draco didn’t mind the marks on his wall, because it was worth it just to watch the sunrise shine light over Harry’s perfect form. The sun would cast a bright shine across his ebony hair, and light up Harry’s flawless pale skin. Harry was pure loveliness, and being able to witness that every day more than made up for listening to the torture that took place beyond his bedroom walls.
Draco still remembered the day he was given such a marvellous gift. He had been standing towards the outskirts of Hogwarts in an attempt to avoid the worst of the battle, when his Aunt Bellatrix had strode towards him with a manic grin on her face.
She had led Draco away from Hogwarts by the hand, telling him that he had been chosen - that the Dark Lord was offering Draco something only few could dream of achieving.
Voldemort wanted Draco to replace his father in the Death Eater rankings, essentially becoming one the Dark Lord’s right-hand men. Draco knew he would have no choice in the matter; refusal would only lead to certain death.
Bellatrix had taken Draco back to Malfoy Manor, where she gestured for Draco to step into his father’s study. Draco had expected to see Voldemort there, but he hadn’t expected Harry Potter to be there, too.
Harry had been on his knees beside Voldemort, his wrists bound together in front of him. Harry had clearly been placed under a Silencing Charm, for Draco had never known him to be so quiet, but his emerald eyes were glaring up at the Dark Lord with an intense hatred burning in them; if anyone else had looked at the Dark Lord like that, they’ve have been Crucioed into insanity before being killed.
“I know you’re in love with the boy, Draco,” Voldemort had said coldly, staring at Draco as if daring him to deny it. Draco didn’t bother; it was the truth, and lying to the Dark Lord was never a wise move. “Take your father’s place in my circle, and I will give Harry to you.”
Draco didn’t think he had ever accepted an opportunity fast enough. Voldemort had told Draco that he had a duty to keep Harry out of danger, but could otherwise do what he liked to him.
Despite not understanding why Harry hadn’t been killed, Draco readily took Harry under his wing, fighting off Harry’s angry outbursts and holding him gently after Voldemort slaughtered Granger and Weasley in front of Harry’s eyes, and again and again as more of his friends were killed.
Harry had soon broken down enough to settle into life with Draco, and Draco only loved him more each day. It had started as a schoolboy crush in fourth year, but Draco’s feelings had only grown stronger over time.
And now Harry - beautiful, perfect, lovely Harry - was all Draco’s. There were times when potions had to be used to keep Harry docile, mostly during sex, but otherwise Harry had become pliant and accepting of his new role in Draco’s life.
Draco found himself smiling once more, and he took a seat on the floor in Harry’s favourite spot by the window, running his fingers over the tally marks.
“We’ll soon be running out of wall space soon,” Draco said teasingly. “Come and sit with me, lovely.”
Harry obeyed instantly, crossing the small space across the floor to join Draco.
Harry never did speak much, not anymore, but it didn’t matter. Instead, Harry leant in towards Draco, and rested his head on Draco’s shoulder.
“Say the words, darling,” Draco murmured gently, running his fingers through Harry’s dark hair. “Say it like you mean them.”
“I love you, Draco,” Harry responded, and lost in the music, Draco could ignore the emotionless way Harry spoke.
“Again,” Draco ordered, shutting his eyes as he pictured himself in the water, dragging Harry beneath the waves to be with him forever.
“I love you,” Harry repeated, resting his hand on Draco’s shirtless chest. “I love you.”
***
Draco did have other duties now that he was part of Voldemort’s inner circle. This mostly consisted of torturing Muggles and Mudbloods with the Cruciatus Curse, but thankfully it was on very rare occasions that he had been asked to kill them.
It was only the thought of going back to his sweet Harry that got him through those times. Draco was prepared to torture if it meant spending more time with his love. The Dark Lord seemed impressed with Draco, and hadn’t shown any sign of taking Harry away from him, yet Draco was terrified it was going to happen one day. A world without Harry was not one that Draco wanted to live in at all.
When Draco was finally permitted to leave, he hurried back up to his room, where Harry was curled up in an armchair with a book in his hands, and the gramophone was playing a soft tune in an attempt to block out the screams. The book was a Muggle one that Draco had managed to sneak in for Harry at his request, and while Draco knew that they would both be in trouble if they were found out, part of Draco wanted it to happen.
Last time Harry had done something that displeased the Dark Lord, Voldemort had insisted on watching Draco bed Harry, while disallowing Harry the potion. As Harry was often wont to do when around Voldemort, he spent the entire time glaring at the Dark Lord. Draco, on the other hand, found himself oddly spurred on, being able to display his dominance over Harry to somebody else. It meant Draco could show off his ownership, and hopefully Voldemort understood that nobody else could ever love Harry like Draco did, and nobody else would try as hard to keep him safe.
“How can you stand to be around it?” Harry asked as Draco shut the door softly behind him, and the sound of his voice took Draco slightly by surprise. It wasn’t often that Harry initiated conversation, and knowing that Harry truly wanted to engage with Draco filled him up with glee.
“I can’t,” Draco answered truthfully, leaning over Harry to place a kiss on his forehead.
Draco offered his hand and Harry took hold, allowing Draco to pull him up. Draco quickly switched places with Harry, settling into the chair and pulling Harry onto his lap.
“It never looks like it bothers you,” Harry commented, lifting his arms up slightly so that Draco’s could slip around his waist.
“That’s because you’re not out there with me,” Draco stated, smiling as Harry’s fingers trailed over his. “You give me an escape that is worth waiting for.”
***
“Bring your hips down harder, darling,” Draco panted, his hands gripping Harry’s hips tightly as the dark-haired boy rode his cock. “That’s right, darling, just like that.”
Draco didn’t think he would ever get over how beautiful Harry was, especially when lost in the throes of passion. Harry’s cheeks were flushed red, staining his pale skin, and his gorgeous thighs had spread to press against Draco’s body so firmly.
Even his eyes, distant and glazed over as they were, shone brightly as Draco thrust inside him, and it didn’t take long for Draco to lose control, bucking his hips wildly as he came inside of Harry.
Harry rode out his own orgasm, and afterwards he fell off Draco to collapse on the bed in a breathless slump.
“Perfect as usual,” Draco smiled, grabbing his wand to clean them both off. He was about to say something else, when a knock sounded on the door.
That was unusual; the only visitor Draco tended to get was the Dark Lord, and he never knocked. Covering Harry up with a sheet and handing him the antidote, Draco quickly wrapped his robe around himself before opening the door just enough so that not much other than Draco could be seen.
The knocker turned out to be his Aunt Bellatrix, who stood on her tip toes in an attempt to peer around Draco.
“What do you want?” Draco snapped, not happy to be interrupted before he had a chance to relax with his lovely Harry.
“Draco, is that any way to speak to your aunt?” Bellatrix chided playfully, pouting as she sank back to the balls of her feet. “I came to inform you that we got the last of his friends.”
Draco felt a chill run through his body, and he could feel the sudden tenseness in the atmosphere.
“He’s dead?” Draco found himself saying, wishing to be rid of Bellatrix so he could cover Harry’s ears and protect him from the world.
“Killed him myself,” his aunt told him proudly. “Put up more of a fight than his parents; didn’t know that chubby Longbottom boy had it in him. I put that blood traitor in his place though, and-”
“Thank you for telling me, Aunt,” Draco interrupted, stepping back so he could shut the door in her face.
Draco turned to face Harry, who had all but frozen in his position on Draco’s bed. His eyes were wide and his mouth partly open, and his fingers had clenched so tightly in the sheets that they were already turning red.
“Harry,” Draco breathed, and that seemed to snap Harry out of his trance. His eyes jumped to the door; filled with rage and hatred, and he didn’t once look away, not even when Draco sat beside him and wrapped his arm around Harry’s shoulders.
And despite it all, that rage wasn’t aimed at Draco. It was aimed at the others, but not Draco. Harry let Draco stroke his hair and kiss his forehead, and Harry let Draco hold him and tell him it was going to be okay. Because Harry felt something for Draco, and that meant that Harry’s anger would all be worth it, as long as he let Draco love him.
***
“What the fuck are you doing?” Draco shouted, raising his wand, and the man who had been on top of a struggling Harry fell to the floor with a thud.
Harry’s shirt was ruffled and the top two buttons undone, and it didn’t take an idiot to figure out what had been going on.
The man - a low ranking Death Eater Draco didn’t know the name of - looked up at him fearfully, clambering to his feet.
“It isn’t what it looks like,” he protested hurriedly, aiming his wand at Draco with a shaky hand. “He enticed me in here, told me the Dark Lord was whoring him out.”
“You expect me to believe those lies?” Draco spat, casting a quick glance at Harry who had moved into a kneeling position on the bed, and whose eyes were wide and fearful. How dare this man try to hurt Harry in that way!
The Killing Curse spilled from Draco’s lips without a second thought, and the man’s lifeless body crumpled to the floor in a flash of green light.
“Mopsy,” Draco called, alerting a House-elf to come to his service. “Take this body to Greyback.”
Mopsy the House-elf nodded and complied, vanishing herself and the corpse with a snap of her fingers.
“Are you alright, darling?” Draco asked, rushing over to Harry’s side.
“I’m fine,” Harry answered with a small shrug, shifting his sleeve with his fingers. Draco cast him a questioning glance, and with a sigh, Harry tugged a small pocketknife from under his sleeve. “I was about to hurt him when you burst in. Since Voldemort took my wand, I had to be creative.”
“You don’t need to worry about being creative, lovely,” Draco said gently, pulling Harry into a tight embrace. “I’m not going to let anybody else hurt you. I’ll tell the Dark Lord what happened while you were left alone - I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, I promise. Tell me the words, darling, let me hear them.”
“I love you, Draco.”
***
Draco took a risk by telling the Dark Lord what happened, but technically, because Draco had been away from Harry and therefore unable to protect him from harm, Draco only ended up on the receiving end of the Cruciatus Curse twice.
But it worked out in the end, because Voldemort closed off that part of the Manor entirely to his followers, so only Draco and Harry were on that corridor. Draco was also told that he wouldn’t be needed downstairs as frequently anymore, so he could spend more time with his Harry.
There were 227 marks on the tally chart now, and it had been three days since Neville Longbottom’s death. Harry hadn’t made much of a reaction beyond the shock and anger he had exhibited upon hearing the news, but Harry had most likely simply become used to it now; he hadn’t a single friend left alive anymore.
Draco was sat in an armchair, with Harry on the floor in front of him, resting against his legs. It was relaxing; perfect, even, just sitting with Harry - almost like they were a loving couple. The sounds of screaming from down below ruined the fantasy somewhat, but the record Draco had playing masked the worst of it.
“I’m sorry, Draco,” Harry murmured, driving Draco out of his fantasy. “Incarcerous,” Harry cast as he jumped to his feet, a wand inexplicably in his hand.
A quick glance told Draco that his own wand was on the desk next to the chair, leaving him wondering how exactly Harry had got his hands on one.
“What are you doing, lovely?” Draco asked calmly, stretching out his fingers to try and loosen the grip of the rope around his wrists. He didn’t feel the need to be worried; he knew that Harry would never hurt him. “How did you get your hands on that wand?”
“That Death Eater you killed,” Harry answered, and he sounded panicked. His eyes jumped from the door to the window, but whether he was planning an escape or checking for Voldemort, Draco didn’t know. “He wasn’t lying to you; I did trick him into coming into the room. And I had to get him on top of me so I could get his wand without him noticing, but I wouldn’t have let him… no, but I had to get a wand. Neville’s dead.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Draco said gently. “You know how I hate to see you in pain.”
“Stop it!” Harry shouted, jabbing the wand through the air violently. “Stop acting like you care.”
“I do care, Harry,” Draco replied, flexing his fingers in a longing to take hold of Harry’s hand. “I’m in love with you.”
“I know,” Harry whispered, lowering his wand. “I know.” With a dismissive wave of the wand, Draco’s bindings vanished, and there was a clatter as Harry threw the wand across the room and smacking into a wall. “You’re the only one left who cares about me. What’s the point of even trying? There’s nobody left out there for me.”
And that was what mattered. All of his friends' deaths may have been painful for Harry, but in the end, it meant that all Harry had was Draco. Harry was all Draco had, and maybe now Harry would truly understand what their love could be, and what it meant to Draco.
“Do you know why I’m even alive right now?” Harry continued, and Draco shook his head; he always had been curious as to why the Dark Lord never killed Harry. “Voldemort split his soul to create Horcruxes, because with them, he can never truly die. And his soul was so broken that when he tried to kill me when I was a baby, and the curse rebounded, a piece of his shattered soul latched itself onto me. Voldemort can’t die unless he kills me, and it has to be him that does it; I can’t even kill myself to stop him. I planned to go into that Forest during the battle to die, but Voldemort somehow found out I was a Horcrux and tricked me. So because of me, Voldemort will never die, and I’m stuck inside this room, listening to people screaming and dying all around me.”
Well, Draco hadn’t expected that to be the reason. Yet it made sense, somehow; why else would Voldemort spare someone who he had been so desperate to kill? And Draco had been very sure that Voldemort was almost soulless before, so that just confirmed it.
But Draco’s poor, sweet, Harry, filled with that guilt. It just made Draco want to take Harry into his arms and never let him go.
“We have each other, though,” Draco smiled, taking hold of Harry’s hand and kissing the top of it. “You can’t change the past, but I’ll be with you now.”
Harry smiled - a genuine one, too - and closed the small distance between them to kiss Draco firmly.
Draco kissed Harry back, attempting to guide them to the bed as they undressed one another on the way.
Finally Harry’s legs hit the bed and he fell back onto it, pulling Draco down on top of him, holding him just right.
“The potion?” Draco asked, and his heart skipped a beat when Harry shook his head.
Harry had told Draco in the beginning that he would have sex with Draco, but only if he had a potion to make him only partially aware of what was going on. Draco hadn’t liked the idea at all, but Harry insisted, and Draco would do anything to make Harry happy.
And this was the first time Harry was willingly choosing to go without the potion; he actually wanted to have Draco completely.
“You can play the record though,” Harry breathed against Draco’s lips. “The Ballad of the Merman one. It’s my favourite.”
And if Harry had been music, The Ballad of the Merman would have been his song.
It was Draco’s favourite, too.
Author: leontinabowie
Prompt: # 56
Summary: Voldemort won the war, and Harry was given as a gift to Draco. Draco can put up with the screams of people being tortured, because he has the lovely Harry to himself.
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): (highlight for details): *implied torture, non-con, dub-con, drugged sex, character death (off-screen, and neither Harry nor Draco)*
Word Count: 3280
Author's Notes: Thanks to E for the beta.
The Ballad of the Merman
Draco placed one last, lingering kiss on his lover’s lips, before rolling off him and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.
As Draco pulled his trousers back on, he smiled fondly at Harry, who was lying on his back, his chest rising and falling heavily from the aftermath of his orgasm.
Harry turned to face Draco, who frowned as Harry smiled a smile that only seemed to illuminate his glazed eyes. Draco reached towards the bedside cabinet and grabbed the potion antidote, passing it to Harry so that he could become Draco’s Harry again.
Leaving Harry to it, Draco got to his feet and strode towards the gramophone. He lowered the tonearm, and moments later the sounds of sharp violins filled the room, blocking out the screaming coming from the floors below.
The music playing was one of Draco’s favourite pieces - The Ballad of the Merman. It consisted of mostly string instruments, creating a rather tragic atmosphere. The story behind it was of a merman who had fallen in love with a human. The merman tried to entice the human, and as time went on, the human got closer and closer until they fell in the water and drowned, allowing the merman to keep them forever. Tragic; yes, but rather bittersweet, Draco thought.
Besides, Harry preferred to listen to the music rather than the screams of Muggle-borns being tortured, and Draco would do anything to keep Harry happy.
It had been exactly 219 days since Harry had become Draco’s. Draco knew that, not because he had personally kept count, but because every sunrise, Harry would sit on the floor and look out of the large arched window as he scrawled another line into his tally chart.
Draco didn’t mind the marks on his wall, because it was worth it just to watch the sunrise shine light over Harry’s perfect form. The sun would cast a bright shine across his ebony hair, and light up Harry’s flawless pale skin. Harry was pure loveliness, and being able to witness that every day more than made up for listening to the torture that took place beyond his bedroom walls.
Draco still remembered the day he was given such a marvellous gift. He had been standing towards the outskirts of Hogwarts in an attempt to avoid the worst of the battle, when his Aunt Bellatrix had strode towards him with a manic grin on her face.
She had led Draco away from Hogwarts by the hand, telling him that he had been chosen - that the Dark Lord was offering Draco something only few could dream of achieving.
Voldemort wanted Draco to replace his father in the Death Eater rankings, essentially becoming one the Dark Lord’s right-hand men. Draco knew he would have no choice in the matter; refusal would only lead to certain death.
Bellatrix had taken Draco back to Malfoy Manor, where she gestured for Draco to step into his father’s study. Draco had expected to see Voldemort there, but he hadn’t expected Harry Potter to be there, too.
Harry had been on his knees beside Voldemort, his wrists bound together in front of him. Harry had clearly been placed under a Silencing Charm, for Draco had never known him to be so quiet, but his emerald eyes were glaring up at the Dark Lord with an intense hatred burning in them; if anyone else had looked at the Dark Lord like that, they’ve have been Crucioed into insanity before being killed.
“I know you’re in love with the boy, Draco,” Voldemort had said coldly, staring at Draco as if daring him to deny it. Draco didn’t bother; it was the truth, and lying to the Dark Lord was never a wise move. “Take your father’s place in my circle, and I will give Harry to you.”
Draco didn’t think he had ever accepted an opportunity fast enough. Voldemort had told Draco that he had a duty to keep Harry out of danger, but could otherwise do what he liked to him.
Despite not understanding why Harry hadn’t been killed, Draco readily took Harry under his wing, fighting off Harry’s angry outbursts and holding him gently after Voldemort slaughtered Granger and Weasley in front of Harry’s eyes, and again and again as more of his friends were killed.
Harry had soon broken down enough to settle into life with Draco, and Draco only loved him more each day. It had started as a schoolboy crush in fourth year, but Draco’s feelings had only grown stronger over time.
And now Harry - beautiful, perfect, lovely Harry - was all Draco’s. There were times when potions had to be used to keep Harry docile, mostly during sex, but otherwise Harry had become pliant and accepting of his new role in Draco’s life.
Draco found himself smiling once more, and he took a seat on the floor in Harry’s favourite spot by the window, running his fingers over the tally marks.
“We’ll soon be running out of wall space soon,” Draco said teasingly. “Come and sit with me, lovely.”
Harry obeyed instantly, crossing the small space across the floor to join Draco.
Harry never did speak much, not anymore, but it didn’t matter. Instead, Harry leant in towards Draco, and rested his head on Draco’s shoulder.
“Say the words, darling,” Draco murmured gently, running his fingers through Harry’s dark hair. “Say it like you mean them.”
“I love you, Draco,” Harry responded, and lost in the music, Draco could ignore the emotionless way Harry spoke.
“Again,” Draco ordered, shutting his eyes as he pictured himself in the water, dragging Harry beneath the waves to be with him forever.
“I love you,” Harry repeated, resting his hand on Draco’s shirtless chest. “I love you.”
***
Draco did have other duties now that he was part of Voldemort’s inner circle. This mostly consisted of torturing Muggles and Mudbloods with the Cruciatus Curse, but thankfully it was on very rare occasions that he had been asked to kill them.
It was only the thought of going back to his sweet Harry that got him through those times. Draco was prepared to torture if it meant spending more time with his love. The Dark Lord seemed impressed with Draco, and hadn’t shown any sign of taking Harry away from him, yet Draco was terrified it was going to happen one day. A world without Harry was not one that Draco wanted to live in at all.
When Draco was finally permitted to leave, he hurried back up to his room, where Harry was curled up in an armchair with a book in his hands, and the gramophone was playing a soft tune in an attempt to block out the screams. The book was a Muggle one that Draco had managed to sneak in for Harry at his request, and while Draco knew that they would both be in trouble if they were found out, part of Draco wanted it to happen.
Last time Harry had done something that displeased the Dark Lord, Voldemort had insisted on watching Draco bed Harry, while disallowing Harry the potion. As Harry was often wont to do when around Voldemort, he spent the entire time glaring at the Dark Lord. Draco, on the other hand, found himself oddly spurred on, being able to display his dominance over Harry to somebody else. It meant Draco could show off his ownership, and hopefully Voldemort understood that nobody else could ever love Harry like Draco did, and nobody else would try as hard to keep him safe.
“How can you stand to be around it?” Harry asked as Draco shut the door softly behind him, and the sound of his voice took Draco slightly by surprise. It wasn’t often that Harry initiated conversation, and knowing that Harry truly wanted to engage with Draco filled him up with glee.
“I can’t,” Draco answered truthfully, leaning over Harry to place a kiss on his forehead.
Draco offered his hand and Harry took hold, allowing Draco to pull him up. Draco quickly switched places with Harry, settling into the chair and pulling Harry onto his lap.
“It never looks like it bothers you,” Harry commented, lifting his arms up slightly so that Draco’s could slip around his waist.
“That’s because you’re not out there with me,” Draco stated, smiling as Harry’s fingers trailed over his. “You give me an escape that is worth waiting for.”
***
“Bring your hips down harder, darling,” Draco panted, his hands gripping Harry’s hips tightly as the dark-haired boy rode his cock. “That’s right, darling, just like that.”
Draco didn’t think he would ever get over how beautiful Harry was, especially when lost in the throes of passion. Harry’s cheeks were flushed red, staining his pale skin, and his gorgeous thighs had spread to press against Draco’s body so firmly.
Even his eyes, distant and glazed over as they were, shone brightly as Draco thrust inside him, and it didn’t take long for Draco to lose control, bucking his hips wildly as he came inside of Harry.
Harry rode out his own orgasm, and afterwards he fell off Draco to collapse on the bed in a breathless slump.
“Perfect as usual,” Draco smiled, grabbing his wand to clean them both off. He was about to say something else, when a knock sounded on the door.
That was unusual; the only visitor Draco tended to get was the Dark Lord, and he never knocked. Covering Harry up with a sheet and handing him the antidote, Draco quickly wrapped his robe around himself before opening the door just enough so that not much other than Draco could be seen.
The knocker turned out to be his Aunt Bellatrix, who stood on her tip toes in an attempt to peer around Draco.
“What do you want?” Draco snapped, not happy to be interrupted before he had a chance to relax with his lovely Harry.
“Draco, is that any way to speak to your aunt?” Bellatrix chided playfully, pouting as she sank back to the balls of her feet. “I came to inform you that we got the last of his friends.”
Draco felt a chill run through his body, and he could feel the sudden tenseness in the atmosphere.
“He’s dead?” Draco found himself saying, wishing to be rid of Bellatrix so he could cover Harry’s ears and protect him from the world.
“Killed him myself,” his aunt told him proudly. “Put up more of a fight than his parents; didn’t know that chubby Longbottom boy had it in him. I put that blood traitor in his place though, and-”
“Thank you for telling me, Aunt,” Draco interrupted, stepping back so he could shut the door in her face.
Draco turned to face Harry, who had all but frozen in his position on Draco’s bed. His eyes were wide and his mouth partly open, and his fingers had clenched so tightly in the sheets that they were already turning red.
“Harry,” Draco breathed, and that seemed to snap Harry out of his trance. His eyes jumped to the door; filled with rage and hatred, and he didn’t once look away, not even when Draco sat beside him and wrapped his arm around Harry’s shoulders.
And despite it all, that rage wasn’t aimed at Draco. It was aimed at the others, but not Draco. Harry let Draco stroke his hair and kiss his forehead, and Harry let Draco hold him and tell him it was going to be okay. Because Harry felt something for Draco, and that meant that Harry’s anger would all be worth it, as long as he let Draco love him.
***
“What the fuck are you doing?” Draco shouted, raising his wand, and the man who had been on top of a struggling Harry fell to the floor with a thud.
Harry’s shirt was ruffled and the top two buttons undone, and it didn’t take an idiot to figure out what had been going on.
The man - a low ranking Death Eater Draco didn’t know the name of - looked up at him fearfully, clambering to his feet.
“It isn’t what it looks like,” he protested hurriedly, aiming his wand at Draco with a shaky hand. “He enticed me in here, told me the Dark Lord was whoring him out.”
“You expect me to believe those lies?” Draco spat, casting a quick glance at Harry who had moved into a kneeling position on the bed, and whose eyes were wide and fearful. How dare this man try to hurt Harry in that way!
The Killing Curse spilled from Draco’s lips without a second thought, and the man’s lifeless body crumpled to the floor in a flash of green light.
“Mopsy,” Draco called, alerting a House-elf to come to his service. “Take this body to Greyback.”
Mopsy the House-elf nodded and complied, vanishing herself and the corpse with a snap of her fingers.
“Are you alright, darling?” Draco asked, rushing over to Harry’s side.
“I’m fine,” Harry answered with a small shrug, shifting his sleeve with his fingers. Draco cast him a questioning glance, and with a sigh, Harry tugged a small pocketknife from under his sleeve. “I was about to hurt him when you burst in. Since Voldemort took my wand, I had to be creative.”
“You don’t need to worry about being creative, lovely,” Draco said gently, pulling Harry into a tight embrace. “I’m not going to let anybody else hurt you. I’ll tell the Dark Lord what happened while you were left alone - I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, I promise. Tell me the words, darling, let me hear them.”
“I love you, Draco.”
***
Draco took a risk by telling the Dark Lord what happened, but technically, because Draco had been away from Harry and therefore unable to protect him from harm, Draco only ended up on the receiving end of the Cruciatus Curse twice.
But it worked out in the end, because Voldemort closed off that part of the Manor entirely to his followers, so only Draco and Harry were on that corridor. Draco was also told that he wouldn’t be needed downstairs as frequently anymore, so he could spend more time with his Harry.
There were 227 marks on the tally chart now, and it had been three days since Neville Longbottom’s death. Harry hadn’t made much of a reaction beyond the shock and anger he had exhibited upon hearing the news, but Harry had most likely simply become used to it now; he hadn’t a single friend left alive anymore.
Draco was sat in an armchair, with Harry on the floor in front of him, resting against his legs. It was relaxing; perfect, even, just sitting with Harry - almost like they were a loving couple. The sounds of screaming from down below ruined the fantasy somewhat, but the record Draco had playing masked the worst of it.
“I’m sorry, Draco,” Harry murmured, driving Draco out of his fantasy. “Incarcerous,” Harry cast as he jumped to his feet, a wand inexplicably in his hand.
A quick glance told Draco that his own wand was on the desk next to the chair, leaving him wondering how exactly Harry had got his hands on one.
“What are you doing, lovely?” Draco asked calmly, stretching out his fingers to try and loosen the grip of the rope around his wrists. He didn’t feel the need to be worried; he knew that Harry would never hurt him. “How did you get your hands on that wand?”
“That Death Eater you killed,” Harry answered, and he sounded panicked. His eyes jumped from the door to the window, but whether he was planning an escape or checking for Voldemort, Draco didn’t know. “He wasn’t lying to you; I did trick him into coming into the room. And I had to get him on top of me so I could get his wand without him noticing, but I wouldn’t have let him… no, but I had to get a wand. Neville’s dead.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Draco said gently. “You know how I hate to see you in pain.”
“Stop it!” Harry shouted, jabbing the wand through the air violently. “Stop acting like you care.”
“I do care, Harry,” Draco replied, flexing his fingers in a longing to take hold of Harry’s hand. “I’m in love with you.”
“I know,” Harry whispered, lowering his wand. “I know.” With a dismissive wave of the wand, Draco’s bindings vanished, and there was a clatter as Harry threw the wand across the room and smacking into a wall. “You’re the only one left who cares about me. What’s the point of even trying? There’s nobody left out there for me.”
And that was what mattered. All of his friends' deaths may have been painful for Harry, but in the end, it meant that all Harry had was Draco. Harry was all Draco had, and maybe now Harry would truly understand what their love could be, and what it meant to Draco.
“Do you know why I’m even alive right now?” Harry continued, and Draco shook his head; he always had been curious as to why the Dark Lord never killed Harry. “Voldemort split his soul to create Horcruxes, because with them, he can never truly die. And his soul was so broken that when he tried to kill me when I was a baby, and the curse rebounded, a piece of his shattered soul latched itself onto me. Voldemort can’t die unless he kills me, and it has to be him that does it; I can’t even kill myself to stop him. I planned to go into that Forest during the battle to die, but Voldemort somehow found out I was a Horcrux and tricked me. So because of me, Voldemort will never die, and I’m stuck inside this room, listening to people screaming and dying all around me.”
Well, Draco hadn’t expected that to be the reason. Yet it made sense, somehow; why else would Voldemort spare someone who he had been so desperate to kill? And Draco had been very sure that Voldemort was almost soulless before, so that just confirmed it.
But Draco’s poor, sweet, Harry, filled with that guilt. It just made Draco want to take Harry into his arms and never let him go.
“We have each other, though,” Draco smiled, taking hold of Harry’s hand and kissing the top of it. “You can’t change the past, but I’ll be with you now.”
Harry smiled - a genuine one, too - and closed the small distance between them to kiss Draco firmly.
Draco kissed Harry back, attempting to guide them to the bed as they undressed one another on the way.
Finally Harry’s legs hit the bed and he fell back onto it, pulling Draco down on top of him, holding him just right.
“The potion?” Draco asked, and his heart skipped a beat when Harry shook his head.
Harry had told Draco in the beginning that he would have sex with Draco, but only if he had a potion to make him only partially aware of what was going on. Draco hadn’t liked the idea at all, but Harry insisted, and Draco would do anything to make Harry happy.
And this was the first time Harry was willingly choosing to go without the potion; he actually wanted to have Draco completely.
“You can play the record though,” Harry breathed against Draco’s lips. “The Ballad of the Merman one. It’s my favourite.”
And if Harry had been music, The Ballad of the Merman would have been his song.
It was Draco’s favourite, too.