Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Warnings: This story is set post OOTP but went AU before HBP came out.
Summary: Harry is officially free, but that does not mean he is ready to return to his normal life and he is still very aware that he can be unpredictable and potentially dangerous. He is also beginning to realise that his relationship with Draco is anything by simple.
Sequel to: Fourth in the Corruption Sequence after Pt1 Corruption | Pt2 Distortion | Pt 3 Alteration
Author's Notes: Thanks to Soph for the beta (don't know what I'd do without her :)).
My Fanfic Listings (LJ) | My Fanfic Listings (DreamW)
Links: Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5
Chapter 2 Not All Plain Sailing
By the middle of the afternoon Harry was in a better mood, but not a great one and he was reading a Quidditch magazine, because he couldn't concentrate on anything else. It probably wasn't the wisest choice given the fact that the article he was reading was putting down one of his favourite players with all sorts of incorrect facts and it was pissing him off even more, but at least it was distracting him. He was, however, just about ready to rip the thing in half when something dragged his attention away from it. It was a strange feeling and he wasn't sure what had startled him out of reading, so he sat there, looking around the room to see if he could see anything.
He was alone, totally and completely alone; Jeremy was not even in his frame, but something had definitely disturbed him. Anger stirred in the pit of his belly, but it felt remote, not really real somehow. He was very familiar with how angry he could become in a very short space of time and this was not the same sensation at all. For some reason his mind had him thinking of Draco, only it wasn't distracting him from what was catching his attention. It took him a little while to put the two things together and then it suddenly began to make sense; the anger was coming from Draco.
It was new and he did not understand how he knew, but he did and he stood up, throwing the magazine down and marching towards the entrance.
"Let me out," he demanded as soon as he reached the portrait.
For a while there was no response and then Jeremy stepped into his frame.
"I'm sorry, Harry," Jeremy said in his usual polite tones, "but I can't do that."
"Let me out," he literally growled at the painting.
His perception of the room changed, growing brighter and he felt several of his less human traits rise to the surface.
"I am not permitted to do that," Jeremy replied simply.
Harry's patience snapped and he swiped at the portrait, vicious claws ripping through the canvas as Jeremy darted out of the way.
"I need to get out," he snarled, claws just bouncing off the magically reinforced wood as he moved on to the door.
Something was making Draco angry, very angry, and there was just a touch of fear as well and Harry wanted to get to his lover. The fact that letting him out of the Room of Requirements to run free through Hogwarts would be dangerous to the other students was about the farthest thing from his mind; he wanted out and that was that. Acting on instinct rather than thought, he pushed at the door, trying to go through it as he had done at the manor, but the wards forced him back. His prison would not let him out and that made him angry. He hit the door hard, making it shake in its frame, but it was not just wood in his way and it did not budge. The dark oak stayed firmly in place even as he threw all of his weight against it, using demonic strength and dark magic to try and get through.
The more he tried, the more it repelled him and the angrier he became until he all but screamed his fury at it, finally turning away and picking up the first thing within reach. It was one of the chairs and he lifted it above his head, hurling it at the door. He threw it with such force it splintered and folded in on itself, crumpling and falling to the floor. There wasn't even a scratch on the door where it had hit and in that moment Harry hated his prison, hated being kept in and he set about destroying everything he could find.
The furniture didn't stand a chance and after he had finished wrecking it he used bits of it to destroy the fake windows. The only things he couldn't rend to pieces were the books; when he tried to take them off the shelves his hands passed straight through them and it was only that which began to bring him back to reality. He was breathing hard and swiped at the books several times, but they refused to come into being as they usually did and eventually it finally dawned on him that they weren't going to, not while he intended to destroy them. It was enough to make him drag back just a little of his self control and he surveyed the devastation around him. Nothing had been spared, not the bed, not the small coffee table, not a single one of the windows and he was reminded of the room in Malfoy Manor and he slowly sat down on the floor.
He was still angry, but the feeling from Draco was gone and with it went his impetus. That was when he felt the first stirrings of guilt and he probably would have wallowed if he hadn't seen the two-seater sofa he had ripped apart putting itself back together. The room was repairing itself and he barely managed to stop himself rising to his feet to fight the inevitable. Only later did he realise how ridiculous it was to resent the room for not staying broken longer.
The way the purple and red of Dumbledore's robe pulled the eye from anything else in the room immediately grated on Harry's nerves. It had been a very long day, what with Snape's visit in the morning to try another potion, and Draco being in detention all afternoon for fighting, so Harry was tired and irritable. It turned out Draco had been confronted by some nameless Gryffindors and there had been a small fight, at least that's what Dobby had told him after Draco had somehow managed to send the house elf with a message. Harry didn't know the details, but then that was probably better for all concerned. The snit fit he had thrown when he realised something was going on with Draco, not that he understood how he had known, hadn't helped in the slightest and the room was still repairing the windows, since it seemed to consider those the least important. The magic in the room was not infinite as it sometimes seemed and Harry was pretty sure that there had been a lot flowing around to keep him in.
"Good evening, Harry," Dumbledore greeted with a smile.
The headmaster's eyes flicked around the room, taking in the obvious damage, before shifting back to Harry as the old wizard walked towards him as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
"I assume you are aware that there was a regrettable incident with Mr Malfoy this afternoon," the headmaster said, conjuring himself a chair as usual.
Harry just growled a response, since he had no doubts that the magical reverberations of what he had done would have been obvious to Dumbledore. Hogwarts communicated with the headmaster on a level Harry did not quite understand and he was sure the Room of Requirements would have reported what was going on inside. Dumbledore gave him a pleasant smile for his efforts.
"I believe the sooner the relationship between you and he is revealed to the school population the better it will be for everyone," the headmaster chatted cheerfully, "although I do not believe you are in any mood to discuss that at this moment."
The old man patted the chair next to him which had just appeared out of thin air.
"Come and sit down, My Boy," Dumbledore invited agreeably; "I need to have a small discussion with you about returning to your lessons tomorrow."
The statement so shocked Harry that he forgot completely how annoyed his was and actually did as he was bidden. If the way he had reacted this afternoon was anything to go by he was definitely not safe to enter the general school population yet.
"Now I don't believe the stress of being among the other pupils will be good for you just yet," the headmaster continued, which in Harry's opinion was a nice way of saying that it would be better to avoid him killing any of his classmates, "so other arrangements will be made. I apologise that it has taken so long, but it took longer than I anticipated to set up the network of surveillance globes and communication mirrors."
Harry had no idea what Dumbledore was talking about; sometimes the headmaster spoke as if he was living in a different universe from the rest of mankind.
"Surveillance globes?" he asked.
Dumbledore smiled and patted him on the hand.
"So you can see what is occurring in the classroom," the headmaster explained patiently. "Each classroom where your lessons take place has been fitted out with a small globe that will allow a communication mirror to show an image of what is occurring in that location; the mirror will be installed in here later this evening if you are agreeable."
Harry nodded; it was not as if he was returning to normal, but it was a good step.
"The mirror is full length, but there are matching smaller mirrors on each teacher's desk as well," Dumbledore continued his explanation. "This will allow them to see you and for you to interact with the class should you wish to ask questions or answer any of the Professors' enquiries."
This revelation brought a frown to Harry's face; he was not sure he liked the idea that someone would be able to see into his room when they felt like it.
"Do not worry, Harry," the headmaster said as if he knew exactly what he was thinking, "the mirror will only be active for the class in session, and you will have ultimate control over it. I do, however, think it would be a good idea to start easing you back into the school routine. There are only a few weeks left of term, but this is a very important year for you, and the fewer lessons you miss the better."
Harry nodded again, since it wasn't as if he had anything useful to say. Dumbledore was right and a routine might be just what he needed.
"How will I do things like potions?" he asked as the logistics of the situations began to form in his mind.
He hoped that he would not be expected to just do theory, because there was nothing more deadly.
"Good point, Harry," the headmaster said with a smile. "I have arranged for the house elves to deliver any supplies you will require for a day's lessons on the morning of that lesson. The room can provide a desk and most equipment you will need, but potions' ingredients and items for your transfigurations practicals will need to be brought to you."
It sounded as if Dumbledore had everything worked out, but then Harry had expected no less. If Albus Dumbledore was ever not a step ahead of the rest of the universe the world would stop spinning.
"Would you like tea?" Harry said, suddenly remembering his manners and feeling much better than he had when the headmaster had walked in.
"That would be lovely, My Boy," Dumbledore replied cheerfully, "thank you."
Pulling out his wand, Harry tapped it on the side of the chair and muttered a quick spell. Dobby appeared with a small pop almost instantly.
"Harry Potter," the house elf greeted brightly, "what can Dobby be doing for you this evening?"
"Tea please, Dobby," Harry requested politely, "for two."
"Right away, Harry Potter, Sir," Dobby said in a delighted manner and disappeared again.
When he turned back, the headmaster was looking at him appraisingly.
"I was not aware you knew that spell, Harry," Dumbledore said with a slight nod of his head, "we do not usually teach it to students."
Harry could not help the slightly smug smile that graced his features then.
"No," he said lightly, "I can imagine not. It would be chaos if everyone could just summon a house elf when they felt like it; nothing would ever get done."
The curiosity was there plainly in the headmaster's eyes and Harry enjoyed being one up for just a few moments.
"Draco taught it to me," he explained with a grin. "He was fed up of me yelling for Dobby whenever I needed something. His exacts words were 'here, do it the civilised way'."
That caused Dumbledore to smile broadly.
"Ah, yes, I should have realised," was the headmaster's conclusion. "Speaking of Mr Malfoy, I believe his detention will be ending shortly, so I shall not keep you too much longer."
Dobby reappeared with two tea cups, a large teapot and a plate full of biscuits. Almost without thinking about it, Harry caused a small table to appear in front of the laden elf.
"Thank you, Dobby," he said politely, as the house elf placed his burden on the table.
"Anything for Harry Potter, Sir," Dobby said with a toothy grin and vanished again.
Harry poured to cover the fact that the images that had popped into his head the moment Professor Dumbledore mentioned Draco finishing his detention were rather less than innocent and then he passed the first cup to the headmaster. The twinkle in the old man's eyes was more evident than ever and as usual Harry felt as if he was an open book.
"Now, My Boy," Dumbledore said, as Harry picked up his own cup, "back to the subject at hand. During lessons you will be expected to behave as any other student: be at your desk on time; wear your uniform; refrain from disrupting the class."
Harry nodded automatically, but he could not help a glance as the slowly repairing destruction he had caused earlier that day.
"Of course," the headmaster continued, "with your unique condition we cannot expect you to be entirely even tempered. You will be subject to the normal house point system, however, should you feel the need to express your anger it is requested that you withdraw from the lesson. All members of staff have been prepared for such an occurrence and should you disappear suddenly from a lesson you will not be penalised. I am trusting that you will not abuse the privilege."
Another nod; he was not about to argue with that. Harry had no intention of using the way out unless he really had to, but he could not say that he would never need it. The sooner he learned to control his temper the better, but it wasn't going to happen overnight.
"I'm sorry you've had to go to all this trouble," he said, feeling guilty about all the fuss he was causing.
"Nonsense, Harry," Dumbledore told him with a warm smile; "it is no more than you deserve. I do not believe you quite understand the service you have done for all of us. Without you darkness would be spreading across our world."
Praise was never something Harry had been particularly comfortable with, it always embarrassed him and he bowed his head, feeling awkward. Thinking about Voldemort was also not good for his equilibrium and it reminded him of something the edition of the Prophet had skimmed over.
"What happened to Pettigrew?" he asked, deciding that he would rather focus on that than Voldemort.
Dumbledore appeared somewhat surprised by his question, but did not skirt around it.
"Peter has been taken to St Mungo's," the headmaster told him openly; "he is not in his right mind at the moment and is suffering from some form of magical damage. They believe he might in fact be a squib now."
That alarmed Harry somewhat, because there was only one place he could see where Wormtail's magic could have gone.
"Did I?" he asked, needing to know, but not quite able to ask the whole question.
"Render him safe?" Dumbledore replied, which had not been quite the way Harry would have put it. "Yes, I believe that may be a reasonable analysis of the situation, but the point is moot; Peter will never again be allowed a wand. Once he has recovered sufficiently he will be tried and placed in Azkaban. Given his crimes, he may very well be given the Dementor's kiss, after all he did singlehandedly engineer the return of Voldemort."
It was ironic that the Magical world would do to Wormtail what Fudge had tried to condemn him for, but it gave Harry a small sense of satisfaction. He didn't like to think of himself as vindictive, but Wormtail had effectively taken everything from him: his parents; Sirius; and now his humanity by returning Voldemort to his full power. If anyone deserved to be punished it was him.
"I hope he rots," he said simply, not even trying to hide what he was feeling.
Dumbledore smiled a little sadly at that.
"Although it pains me to see the loss of any wizard to the Light," the headmaster said with a nod, "I cannot find it in my heart to forgive Peter for what he has done. He has caused our whole world, and especially you, My Boy, far too much pain and suffering."
Given Dumbledore's penchant for saving everyone, that meant a lot to Harry.
"Will I be able to make up the work I've missed?" he asked, deciding to change the subject completely; he no longer wanted to think about Pettigrew.
After Dumbledore had finished his visit Draco had arrived and Harry had spent most of the evening making sure his lover was very much whole and unharmed. Some of his techniques for doing so involved making sure Draco was completely mobile and as responsive as before, at least that's what he told Draco and then Draco had laughed at him for about half an hour. He couldn't help it if his thoughts were completely one track sometimes; the vampire and the incubus seemed to be the two creatures that had the greatest sway over his behaviour and Draco was nothing if not very attractive. They had actually had some sleep eventually and Draco had left early, needing to be seen in his house common room as if he was actually living there. Since the full, fabricated story about them having been boyfriends since the end of sixth year and lovers since Harry's change had not yet been released, appearances had to be maintained. Harry had spent most of the rest of the time before school pacing. He was very glad that his first scheduled lesson was Transfiguration, but he was still a complete wreck of nerves. It was ridiculous really, since the only one who would be able to see him was Professor McGonagall, but it felt as if he was walking into the lion's den. Straightening his robes, he sat down at his desk and looked at the mirror where it stood a few feet away. It felt very strange to be back in uniform and he had to try very hard not to fidget. Nothing felt normal anymore, but he was willing to try and fake it.
"Transfigurations classroom," he said eventually when he had all his courage balled up into something usable.
The mirror instantly displayed the interior of Professor McGonagall's domain and Harry was quite surprised by how much he could see. It was not like looking into the Mirror of Erised where he could only see an image; it was more like looking through an opening into the room rather than at a flat surface, he could even smell the classroom. As he turned his head, his view moved as well so that he could look around and he experimented for a little while. It must have taken some complicated spells to set up the connection and he was impressed with the sophistication of the devices. He wondered absently what Professor McGonagall would see when she looked into her desktop mirror, but it was rather pointless and he put it aside as he heard the classroom door opening.
The chatter that surrounded him as the rest of the class made their way to their seats almost made him feel as if he was actually in the room. His nerves were still raw, but he found himself relaxing, at least partially.
"Welcome, class," Professor McGonagall said as she strode in from the back of the room and Harry turned so that he could see her walking, "today we will be starting on the theory of the Animagus transformation. Although you will not be expected to learn the actual transformation, you will be expected to understand why and how it may be achieved for your exams."
Harry was graced with a small smile as the woman reached her usual teaching spot behind her desk and looked at him through the mirror.
"Yes, Mr Malfoy," Professor McGonagall said and Harry could not help turning his head to look.
Draco was sat towards the front of the class next to Pansy and was as immaculately turned out as ever. Harry had to sit on his sudden desire to attempt to step through the mirror as his more possessive nature decided to make itself known. Sitting through Transfiguration with a hard-on for his lover was not Harry's idea of fun, but he was rapidly coming to the conclusion that that was what he might have to do. If it was always going to be like this, he was not sure he'd ever pass his N.E.W.T.s.
"Would it be possible to arrange for extra tuition in the area if we find we have an aptitude for it, please, Professor?" it seemed that Draco could be remarkably polite if he set his mind to it.
"We shall have to see, Mr Malfoy," Professor McGonagall replied, but her tone was no where near as harsh as Harry had heard it in the past when dealing with Slytherins. "This is a very difficult area of study, but if any of you show serious promise and dedication I may be able to assist you in your goals."
Draco gave a polite nod of his head at the reply. It was such a difference from the spoilt brat most of the school had come to know and love that Harry almost laughed. He stopped himself just in time, remembering that Professor McGonagall would be able to hear him.
"There are special books for this section of the course," the woman continued, indicating the pile of tomes on her desk, "and they will not leave this classroom. They are restricted reading material and you will sign out one between two whenever you come to this lesson and sign it back in at the end. All homework on the subject will be done here at pre-arranged times."
Harry looked at the book on his desk, which had been delivered by a house elf that morning, and realised that he was being given a privilege to have it. He took hold of it and ran his fingers over the gold lettering on the cover as the others were handed out in the classroom.
"Before we open our text books," Professor McGonagall's voice brought him back to the present, "can anyone tell me the three stages of the Animagus transformation?"
The answer leapt into Harry's head, since this was a subject close to his heart. He almost didn't put up his hand, since he did not really want anyone to remember he was there, but then he realised he was going to have to interact at some point and so he dipped into the famous Gryffindor courage and lifted his arm.
"Mr Potter," Professor McGonagall said and he could tell from the look in her eyes that she was pleased he was taking part, "please enlighten us."
His name caused a ripple of sound to move around the classroom, and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, but a stern look from McGonagall silenced the rest of the room and he relaxed again.
"Meditation, realisation and transformation," he said in as steady a voice as he could manage.
His tone was deeper than his normal speaking voice because of the nerves and the fact that not all of his other aspects were completely asleep, but at least he sounded human.
"Very good," Professor McGonagall said with a smile, "five points to Gryffindor. Mr Potter is perfectly correct. The first stage is meditation and can take from between four and twelve months to achieve. It is the stage where you would learn to feel your animal, but not perceive it completely. This is the time where a person finds out if they are capable of the transformation at all. It takes a great deal of concentration and hard work to find your animal to begin with. The second stage is realisation where the feel of your animal is translated into recognition of what it actually is. This is by far the longest stage of the process and the fastest on record was thirteen months, however, no one who has registered their success at the first stage has ever failed at this point. Of course the third stage is the most dangerous when you combine the Animagus spell into yourself and use it to channel your form into that of your animal. Several fully trained wizards have died at this point throughout history when they failed to cast the spell correctly."
Harry couldn't help wondering how long his father had taken to learn the Animagus transformation; he had a feeling it had been nowhere near that long. Of course he doubted that the marauders had worried about all the safety measures involved either, which would have undoubtedly sped up the process.
With her ominous warning given, the professor turned to her copy of the text book and flicked it open.
"Please look at page 24," she said in her usual efficient tone; "today we will be discussing the theory behind finding your animal."
Harry dutifully turned to the right page and tried heroically to ignore that half his brain was still trying to decide exactly how to ravish Draco as soon as physically possible.
Everything was fine as Harry copied down the notes Professor McGonagall put on the board and listened to the discussion going on in the room; that was until towards the end when he glanced around the room. Pansy was leaning against Draco pretending to read something from the book they were sharing, but every instinct in Harry said she was doing nothing of the sort. Draco for his part was ignoring her, but that was not the point. Everything came into sharp focus as Harry glared at Pansy even though at a logical level he knew she couldn't see him. The smell of pheromones alone, that the girl was giving off, were enough to make him want to rip her head off.
He stood up before he could stop himself as his incubus failed to comprehend that there was no way he could get to Pansy anyway. That someone else was touching what was his in that way was unthinkable to him and he wanted to snarl and attack.
"Off," he managed to growl out before he lost it completely and the view in the mirror disappeared.
The little whore had been rubbing herself against his Draco and part of Harry wanted to rend her limb from limb. It was so strong that he almost lost it and totalled his desk in his fury, but he just about managed to hold it in and dragged himself to the bathroom instead. After dunking his head in a basin of cold water, he felt together enough to look at himself in the mirror, but even as he did so he could still see the glow in his eyes. His incubus was very annoyed and he knew he was not going to be able to rejoin the lesson any time soon.
It took him fifteen minutes and three dunks in the basin before he decided he was ready to return to the other room. He was still not calm enough to activate the mirror again, but he was in a state of mind to at least think. He picked up a piece of parchment and his quill, quickly scribbling down a note:
I'm sorry for leaving so abruptly, but I saw something which set off my incubus. I did not wish to disrupt your lesson so I cut the connection. If you would not mind sending a note with the homework assignment I would be very grateful.
With a quick flick of his wand he summoned Dobby and sent the elf off with the message. He was glad that he had a free period next, because he needed the time to put himself in the right mindset for Charms. He was surprised when Dobby returned in under ten minutes with two sheets of parchment.
"Professor McGonagall is asking Dobby to deliver these, Harry Potter, Sir," the elf said and held out both sheets.
"Thank you, Dobby," Harry replied in as calm a tone as he could manage, "you may go now."
The elf vanished with a small bow. Harry looked at the first sheet and was surprised to see a note back rather than the homework assignment.
thank you for the apology, but it was unnecessary. For a first time back in the classroom I believe you managed remarkably well. Rest assured I also noticed the situation with Miss Parkinson; most unbecoming of a young lady. I have assigned both of them to new partners to prevent it happening again.
Miss Granger has offered to share her notes for the few minutes you missed and I have enclosed the homework assignment. I will see you again later in the week.
Harry felt some of the tension leaving him and he had to smile at least a little bit; he could just imagine what Professor McGonagall would have said to Pansy. It was not a complete solution, because Draco was still out there and so was Pansy, but it was better than nothing. His incubus was still annoyed, but he was better able to control it now.
The moment Draco stepped through the door Harry reacted, He moved so fast even he could barely follow it and he had Draco pushed up against the wall in seconds. Given how he was feeling he was strangely careful, but that didn't stop him burying his nose in Draco's uniform. There was no smell of Pansy, which appeased him a little.
"I showered in my free period," Draco said, smiling just slightly; "I didn't want to smell of the silly cow either. She still seems to think I'm interested and no doesn't seem to be in her vocabulary; does give me an excuse to have some nasty hexes on my door though. Dobby was very happy to help."
Harry smiled at the mental image that gave him; Pansy sprawled unconscious in the corridor covered in boils would have been nice and he didn't think Dobby would have allowed them to be that bad, but imagining it settled his nerves.
"So," Draco said, when he didn't move, "are we eating or are you the only one taking sustenance today?"
That made Harry feel a little guilty, it really did, and he considered ordering up some food for lunch, but his incubus had been riled and he really needed to reaffirm that Draco was his. He managed to step back, but that was about as far as he got, which made Draco laugh.
"Gryffindors," was Draco's comment, and then Draco leant forward and kissed him. "Dobby has promised to bring me a sandwich before my next lesson; so you can stop worrying."
"Bastard," is what Harry replied as he realised Draco had been winding him up.
"Always," Draco replied with an unrepentant grin, "I am also not stupid. It does not take someone of my significant mental agility to realise what Pansy's deplorable behaviour would have done to you and ..."
When Draco paused Harry almost leant in to steal another kiss, but Draco did it for him.
"...I wanted to reward you for how well you've done today already," Draco told him.
Harry liked that idea, he liked it a lot, which was why he growled his displeasure when Draco batted away his hand as he reached out to take what was on offer.
"Draco," he said, voice taking on just an edge of power.
"I am not teasing you," Draco replied simply and perfectly openly, probably the only way to make Harry listen, "but I want to ease you into the idea of letting me have my way occasionally."
Incubus power stirred under his skin at that and Harry was not sure he liked what he was hearing.
"This isn't a good idea," he said, knowing that he had asked a great deal of himself that morning already.
"Which is why it's not going to be difficult," Draco said, taking his hand and walking towards the bed; "but you are going to have to learn you can't just have me instantly sometimes."
"Not today," Harry said, bringing them to a halt by just stopping and holding on Draco's hand firmly.
At that Draco acquiesced a little and moved closer to him, holding his face gently with his free hand and kissing him softly.
"You had me last night," Draco reminded him quietly, placing small kisses on his face, "and you will undoubtedly want me again tonight, so I am asking you, for now, to please try. For me?"
It was a very Slytherin attack; it was not demanding and it went straight to Harry's heart. He knew Draco was playing to his weaknesses, but he couldn't do anything about it; didn't really want to in fact.
"What do you want me to do?" he asked, not quite agreeing.
"I want you to stay right here," Draco told him, already releasing the buttons on his own shirt, "for as long as you can while I go over there," his lover indicated the bed, "and prepare myself for you on full display."
Harry's cock had started paying attention the moment Draco had walked into the room, but it gave a very intense throb at the idea those words conjured up.
"I'm going to strip," Draco told him, slowly walking backwards away from him, "and then I'm going to climb onto the bed and spread myself wide for you with my fingers. All you have to do is watch."
That might have caused Harry to tremble just a little, but he was admitting to nothing.
"You can take your clothes off if you like, so that you don't spoil them when you finally can't take it anymore," Draco suggested as he very slowly removed one item of clothing after another.
Harry wasn't really aware as he did the same thing; his whole focus was on Draco and his clothes ended up somewhere on the floor without him taking any notice of where. Draco was beautiful, all pale skin and almost delicate bone structure, but with a wiry strength that Harry had felt in his arms. There was muscle under the sun-shy flesh, even though Draco had been locked up for months and Harry realised then that Draco had never given up. All that time Draco had kept himself fit somehow and it gave him another reason to admire the Slytherin. His feelings about Draco were very much mixed up and he wasn't quite sure what they meant, but he was well aware he could neither survive, nor wanted to, without Draco there.
Draco had pulled something from his pocket before taking all his clothes off and Harry realised what it was as Draco climbed onto the bed; it was a small jar of lubrication. Harry bit his lip in anticipation, feeling his incubus nature stirring restlessly as he tried to keep it under control.
"You have such intense eyes," Draco said, draping himself on the bed and languidly stroking his cock with one hand; "I can almost feel your gaze when you look at me."
Their relationship was hard to define, but there was no doubt in Harry's mind that Draco was fully committed as well, if nothing else he was always interested in sex as much as Harry was. Draco's cock was already proud and full in his hand and Harry had to tear his eyes away from it before he forgot what he was supposed to be doing. Talking was not high on his list of things to do, so he did not reply to Draco's observation.
"You make my skin prickle when you stare at me," Draco told him, lifting one of his legs and taking up a position on the bed that allowed Harry to see everything.
He so wanted to move forward and touch, to feel that warm flesh surround him as he pushed inside, but he dug his nails into his palms and stood his ground. Draco was his, no one else's and he needed to reaffirm that, but Draco had helped by removing any trace of another claim on him and Draco was showing him everything. It allowed him to exert at least a modicum of control over himself.
Draco took the jar he had brought with him, not something they usually needed thanks to Harry unique anatomy, and opened it, dipping his fingers in and smiling as he did so. This show was for him, Harry knew it, and he could tell Draco had planned it all out in that blond Slytherin head of his. These days Draco seemed to have a better idea of what went on in his brain than he did, so he was not about to argue. As he watched Draco carefully spread himself and then ever so slowly push two fingers into his own body, Harry's breathing sped up considerably. With the amount of sex they were having he doubted Draco needed much preparation, but he knew that tight heat well and could almost feel how his lover would have slightly tightened at the first intrusion. No matter how under control Draco had himself, his muscles always clenched just a little at that first incursion inside.
"I can feel your need, Harry," Draco told him, breath catching slightly as he moved his fingers slowly in and out of himself; "it runs through me too; I've been feeling it all morning."
That was new; he was well aware that he could make Draco want him with his magic, had done that first night, but they hadn't been in close proximity since breakfast. The section of his brain that was still capable of logical thought realised this was significant, just like the way he had sensed Draco the previous day, and he filed away the information for another time. When Draco pushed his fingers in deep and made a quiet little mewing sound, he knew exactly what spot Draco was touching and it wiped away most of his sensible thought. He couldn't stop it anymore and he let the incubus rise to the surface, feeling his body change and his need become an almost palpable thing.
"Merlin you're beautiful," Draco said, eyes roaming over him and gaze heavy, and Harry took that as permission to move.
He kept himself in check, just about, and walked over, climbing onto the bed with measured movements. Draco didn't stop what he was doing, lying there, moving his fingers in and out as Harry loomed over him. It literally made Harry growl low in his throat, a very possessive, appreciative sound, and only then did Draco carefully pull his fingers out, spreading his legs either side of Harry, very deliberately inviting him in. Leaning down, he nipped gently at Draco's lips, just to prove he was still in control, and then he hooked his hands under Draco's thighs and lifted them. It opened Draco to him completely and it took no effort at all to line up and slowly push inside.
Draco put his head back and let out the most wonderful needy sound that Harry had ever heard as Harry slid all the way home. They moved together so easily now, as if they had been lovers for years not weeks and, even with the incubus driving him, Harry cared as much about Draco's needs as he did his own. It meant something, he knew it did, and he could feel so many needs and desires and emotions running around inside him, but they refused to resolve into anything that made sense.
As he slowly pulled out and thrust their bodies together once again, he knew this was not just sex anymore, but he did not know what else to call it. It was almost more confusing than everything else that had been happening to him. His darker thoughts whispered of ownership and control and power, but those weren't his only ideas and he started up a careful rhythm as they flew around his mind.
Lunch was only an hour; they didn't have a lot of time for long drawn out sex, so Harry pushed aside his deeper ponderings and allowed the incubus free reign. His instincts knew what was good, what would make Draco pant and moan and buck underneath him, and the more Draco enjoyed it, the more he did. His magic could force Draco to come apart of course, but it was so much better when he didn't need it; when Draco's reactions were all natural.
"Tell me who you belong to," he whispered as Draco writhed under his touch.
Draco just moaned.
"Tell me," Harry demanded, stilling his hand for a moment where he was also stroking Draco's cock.
Draco's whine was completely desperate and Harry fisted his cock hard, making him gasp and try and twist away.
"I'm yours," Draco cried out as Harry thrust into him balls deep, "oh god, I'm yours."
Draco was so close to the edge that all it took was another couple of strokes of his cock and Draco was coming with a needy, shuddering moan and Harry drank in every facet of the moment. His own orgasm, triggered by the influx of sexual energy and magic, was secondary to what he felt coming from Draco and the way everything settled into being right again with Draco's declaration. He was sated and satisfied and he felt balanced again.
End of Ch 2
On to Ch 3