55Chapter 7: ADAIG 1: Re-Acquaintance
As Dark as It Gets, part one: Re-Acquaintance
He was not kidding when he suggested that they 'try out this bed'; as soon as Harry had consented to the idea, Draco pressed his lips against Harry's so hard it almost hurt. Bearing his near-to-death-experience and the fact that they had lost more than a month to Draco's amnesia in mind, it was not hard to understand why Draco was so eager to unite their bodies anew.
Harry opened his mouth and seized the blonde's playful tongue, mixing saliva like a blender. Draco desperately clung to him as if he expected him to evaporate the second he dared to let go; his fingertips were boring into Harry's shoulder blades. The blonde moaned pleadingly, urging him on, and Harry responded by moving his lips to Draco's ear, nibbling at his earlobe, playfully biting down on the blonde's nape, leaving behind marks of his love.
He explored every wonderful inch of his lover's body anew, for he had gone without it for so long, so long … Gently, aware of his lover's every move and sound and careful not to hurt him, he began to unbutton Draco's shirt while tracing the line of his jaw with his tongue; he knew Draco loved that. The blonde gasped and tensed beneath him, unconsciously lifting both his chin and his crotch in lustful welcome.
Harry placed his hands on Draco's bare chest, marvelling over the firmness of his muscles, then he bent down and teased Draco with fleeting kisses from neck to waist, painting intricate patterns on pale skin with the tip of his tongue; skin on skin, burning.
Draco meowled and seized Harry by the shoulders and pulled him back up in order to kiss him. Then, with his lips pressed close to Harry's ear, he whispered, "Please don't ever leave me, please don't ever leave me …"
To prove to Draco that he was not intending to break the promise that he made two years previously, he kissed him and caressed his cheek. Draco pushed his crotch up again, making Harry painfully aware of his lover's erection, and with all his might, he managed to summon enough brainpower to remember how to unzip his trousers. He made taking off the trousers a teasing game for Draco's pleasure and furthermore shrugged out of his own pair.
Now only a thin layer of cotton separated them from each other, a thin layer that was easily discarded of. "Harry …" Draco was sighing, "please …"
Harry steadied himself, his eyes on Draco—always on Draco—and pushed inside him. Draco let out a short shriek of gratitude and anticipation and tightened his grip on Harry's shoulders. As Harry moved inside him, he watched the blonde as he arched and thrashed beneath him, his eyes closed and focused on his inner world of pleasure. Then, like clockwork, Draco opened his silvery eyes and locked gazes with Harry; a lightning wave of burning desire washed over Harry, even greater than what he had thought was possible, and he began to move faster, faster.
Draco followed his movements in perfect synchrony, rising to receive every thrust with a strange smile forming on his lips. His silver blonde hair created a sort of halo around his flushed face. The smile widened when Draco suddenly began to tremble, and he threw his head back making louder and louder noises, breathing faster, faster, faster …
Harry knew that he was close now, oh God, he could not hold it in much longer …
"Harry! Harry! Ha … Ha … Ha … Ha …"The name got stuck in Draco's throat, and only the first syllable was repeated over and over in rhythm with Harry's thrusts until only the 'a' remained in a steady stream of falsetto cries.
Eventually, Harry felt the familiar tremble of orgasm, and shortly thereafter he emptied himself into Draco, their very essences melting together into one entity, forever welded together through all of eternity; they would never part. Never again. That was the promise they made to each other that night, in that room, in that bed; they would never part again.
"Harry … oh, God, Harry …" Draco was panting, lying exhausted with a look of utter satisfaction on his beautiful, fair face. "That was bloody brilliant."
Harry collapsed on top of him. "Boy, you really know your way with words, Dracums." He managed to slide down beside Draco; the blonde instantly snuggled into his arms. "But you're right, though. It was bloody brilliant. Blimey, I've missed this."
Draco inhaled violently, and Harry figured he was taking in his scent, which was rather flattering, actually. "Wish I could say the same …"
The sorrow and the vulnerability in the blonde's voice made Harry's heart skip a beat out of compassion and concern. "Don't even think about it, Dracums. It wasn't your fault; they messed with your head. They are to blame. You didn't mean to treat me like that … and you did come back to me, don't forget that. That's all that matters, nothing else means more to me than the fact that I got you back in one piece, just like you promised me. Just took a little longer than planned."
"Yeah, a month," Draco said scornfully.
"Shhh." Harry gently kissed the blonde's head and snuggled even closer. "Let's leave it all behind us now—it doesn't matter anymore. We have each other."
They slowly fell asleep in each other's arms.
He woke at dawn, and to his surprise he did not feel happy at all, but afraid. As the first rays of gloomy daylight touched upon the bed, he turned to look at Draco. He was so innocent when he was sleeping … so vulnerable … Any minute, anyone could step into the room and curse the brains out of him, and he would not even have the time to react to it.
And that was what scared Harry; that someone could take his Draco away from him in a mere fraction of a second, and there would be no stopping it. Nothing he could do about it. Being a part of the Order was dangerous, he had known that all along, and yet he had wished to join it—and had done so in his seventh year at Hogwarts.
By doing so, he had put his lover in danger, and now he was beginning to wonder if that had been right. Had it been just to mark Draco as a target simply because he needed vengeance for Sirius's death?
He got up from the bed very reluctantly, but he was determined to end this before it was too late. He could not put Draco in danger anymore; if Draco was killed he would never be able to live with himself. When he was buttoning his shirt, the sheets rustled behind him. "Harry? Where are you going?"
Something sharp pierced his heart at that moment.
He said nothing.
"Are you going back to Hermione's?" There was a dark sorrow in Draco's voice, as if he thought that Harry would rather spend his life with Granger than with him.
Harry stopped dead, his shirt half-buttoned. "No. I'm never going back there." He could hear the hatred in his own voice, and it repulsed him. Had it really come to that? Did he hate his friends now? Disgusted with himself, he lowered his gaze and stared down at his feet, because he could not look at Draco.
"What? Why? Why are you never going back? Harry, has something happened?"
Harry clenched his hands. "She gave up on you. I can never forgive her for that. Never."
The silence that followed was uncomfortable—almost intolerable. Draco seemed to be confused about this, and he did not seem to understand where Harry was going with his statement. "What do you mean? She came here yesterday …"
"To kill you, yeah. She came here to kill you because she thought you had killed me. Draco, she told me to my face that she was prepared to do whatever it took to protect the world from you. She had murder in her eyes. I saw it. She gave up on you, and I will never forgive her for that. I don't care that we've been friends for seven years, I just can't forgive her."
He buttoned the last button in his shirt.
Draco sat up in bed. Must have been looking at him with a bewildered expression on his face. "Then, where are you going?"
He did not listen, just put on his shoes and prepared himself to leave. "I have to digest this." Lastly, he grabbed his black cloak and wrapped it tightly around himself. It was a chilly day for being July. "I'm sorry, Dracums."
"Harry?"
He went to the Black house in London, not because he had intended to, but because he simply wound up there. It looked just like he remembered it from the summer leading up to his fifth year at Hogwarts, and from the Christmas holidays he had spent there together with the Weasleys. Filth still lurked in every corner of the house, and there were dozens of cobwebs adorning the rooms.
He needed time to think, but he also needed someone to talk to, and what he had on his mind could not be discussed with Draco since it concerned him, and he knew that the blonde would never agree to what he was going to suggest. Taking a deep breath, steeling himself, he went down the stairs as quietly as possible so as not to wake up Sirius's mother slumbering in the painting in the hall, and headed for the kitchen in the basement. There was someone he was hoping to find there …
Remus Lupin was sitting at the kitchen table, currently sipping some kind of steaming brew from a deep jug, and he did not notice Harry walk into the room. For a moment, he stood there, hesitating, but then he decided it was best to speak up. "Hello, Professor Lupin, sorry to disturb you like this …"
Lupin started in his chair and swiftly stood up facing the doorway, wand at the ready. Then he let out a sigh of relief and lowered it to his side. "Oh, it's just you, Harry. What brings you here?"
Harry hesitated again, but then he took a seat opposite Lupin at the table.
Lupin sat back down, quietly watching Harry with those wise, experienced eyes of his.
Harry clenched his hands over the table. A scowl disfigured his face. "I've come to ask you something," he finally admitted. "You see, I've kind of reached a crossroad in my life …"
He lost the words. Lupin simply looked at him with calm anticipation.
"I was almost killed last night."
Lupin swiftly bent over the table, concern and fright written all over his face. "What? How could that happen, Harry? Harry, you need to tell me every detail about it if I'm going to grasp the severity of the situation fully. Tell me what happened."
To his surprise, Harry found that he was shivering. Tears burned in the corners of his eyes, but he fought them because he did not want to break down in front of his old professor; he thought of Lupin as a sort of mentor, and it meant a lot to him to have his respect. "I've been having some trouble with Draco lately …"
"Draco?" Lupin repeated. "Lucius Malfoy's son?"
"Yes. You know how he changed during our fifth year at Hogwarts, right? You remember how I told Sirius about … You remember, don't you?"
"Yes, Harry, I remember quite clearly how happy you were about it. But what does that have to do with last night? Did the Death Eaters attack you?"
"Well … sort of. It was a Death Eater who attacked me, but it was … It was Draco, Professor."
He peered up at Lupin to see how he reacted to that, and just as he had anticipated, his old professor was very astonished at that. "Draco was the one who attacked you? But how …"
"They had set a trap for him the night he returned to the Manor to talk to his father. Our graduation day from Hogwarts. He needed to clear up his past before he could come live with me, and he … he said he needed to do it alone. So I let him go. They beat him up … beat him up bad … and they cast an Obliviation Charm on him. He remembered nothing at all when I found him. I … I tried to help him, did all I could to make him remember me and everything we had together … But I failed, Professor. The only person I succeeded to bring back was the old Draco Malfoy, and he tried to strangle me … He went straight back to the Death Eaters, and he became one of them. When I saw him next, he attempted to kill Ron and Hermione, but they were protected by one of Piper's potions—"
"Ah," Lupin said with a faint smile, "Piper and her potions …"
"—and then he used the Avada Kedavra curse on me. But somehow it didn't work properly, and I lived. I was out for a few hours, but … I was still alive. And when Draco thought he'd killed me, he finally remembered, and he went berserk on the Death Eaters. Killed sixty-seven of them himself."
"Sixty-seven?"
"Yes. Including his parents and a few of his old classmates from Slytherin. I know it sounds unbelievable, but it's true—Piper can vouch for that. And I can understand why he did it perfectly well, because I felt like doing the same thing when I learnt of the Death Eaters' shady scheme. When I lost my Draco …"
He fell silent again. Something had clustered in his throat, preventing the words from reaching his mouth. Once again, he had to struggle to repress the tears.
Lupin was watching him with concern. "And what happened when you woke up, Harry?"
A faint, bitter smile came to Harry's lips. "He came back to me. He apologised for what he had done to me—what he had almost done to me. To us. Piper helped him get rid of the Mark."
"Yes, Piper Malfoy is quite a witch, indeed. I imagine there is nothing she cannot do with a little magic."
"So she keeps telling us." Harry thought back at the previous night, and the smile on his lips broadened. "Nothing of his old self was left in him then, he was just … Dracums."
The right corner of Lupin's mouth twitched. "Dracums?"
Harry laughed. "Yeah, my nickname for him. We had quite a reunion last night …"
"Then why are you so worried?"
Harry met Lupin's gaze without fear, without insecurity, without hesitation. "Because I realised last night that I need to make a choice, and it's the hardest choice I've ever had to make. I've experienced what it feels like to lose Draco, and I don't ever want to go through that again. Therefore, I have to resign from the Order."
His request had the expected impact. The older man stared at him in disbelief—and disapproval. With a gracious sweep of his hand, he conjured up a jug in front of Harry. "Here, have some Butterbeer. Harry, are you sure about this?"
"Yes. I have given it a lot of thought during the night, and when I woke up in the morning I knew what I had to do."
"But I thought you loved being a part of the Order …"
"I did, but not as much as I love Draco. He needs to come first from now on; I don't want to lose him again. And being in the Order means that I automatically make him a target for anyone who's up against it, and that's not right. He didn't choose to be in constant danger; I forced him into it. I don't want that anymore—I want out."
Lupin was silent for a moment. Then he nodded. "I see. I shall pass on your request to Dumbledore the moment I see him." The smile on Lupin's face was simultaneously pleasant and ominous, as if his dark side—the werewolf—was looking out at Harry through the professor's eyes. It made something stir within Harry's subconscious, but he was yet to learn what it meant.
Harry rose from the chair. "I'd better go back home to Draco and tell him about my decision."
"Oh, you haven't told him yet?"
Harry blushed and did not meet Lupin's gaze when he replied, "No, I just left him pretty much without saying a word. Didn't even tell him where I was going. I didn't want him to stop me."
Lupin rose to bid him farewell.""I see that you're already separating your choices and decisions from your lover. I find that wise—to a certain extent. Just make sure that you don't leave him out all too often, it might alienate him from you. So, are you living together now?"
"Yeah. Well, sort of. I got a call from the real estate agency we went to, and I was told that we got the apartment we wanted, but I haven't had a chance to tell him yet. We're staying at the Manor right now, what with his father being dead and all …"
"I see. Well, be sure to send him my regards."
"I will, Professor. Thanks for the talk, I really needed it."
Lupin laughed. "There, there, Harry. Don't you think it's time you stopped calling me Professor?"
"Er, Professor?"
"I haven't been your teacher for over four years, and as a good friend of your father I insist on you calling me Remus. Your father would have wanted that. So would Sirius."
The familiar pain of his most recent loss burnt anew in his heart. Yet, he found a vague smile for Lupin, and before leaving, he said, "Sure. Goodbye, Remus."
Oh, God, he was having a panic attack. He felt as if he was going to die. His lungs were clogged up and it was nearly impossible to breathe; his wheezing was the only sound he could detect in the huge room. His heart was pounding, pounding, pounding; his chest ached; his head spun as if the room had been magically transformed into a merry-go-round; his fingers and toes went numb; he was seeing stars.
Oh, God, he doesn't love me anymore, he thought miserably, he left me, he left me because he can't love someone who's once been dark, he can't love me because I was dark, because I went over to the other side, oh God, he doesn't love me anymore …
Ever since Harry left without even telling him where he was going, Draco had been pacing his huge bedroom, anxiously waiting for Harry's return. At first, he thought it was a joke, that Harry was trying to fool him into believing that he was mad at him or something, and that he would re-Apparate at any minute—but he did not come back. When several minutes had ticked by, Draco started to get worried, and eventually he came to the conclusion that Harry was not coming back at all.
He left me … HE LEFT ME!
Why the Hell had he been so stupid? Why had he gone back to the Manor on his own when he knew his father to be cruel and calculating? Why had not he let Harry persuade him into staying? They should have dealt with it when the time came, as Harry had said, but no; Draco had to prove himself to his lover—and at what price?
He had lost his memory and all his dignity, and he had willingly become a Death Eater. The fact that Piper had undone it did not matter; he still bore the Mark deep in his heart, and it had been imprinted on him the day he was born.
Harry returned twenty minutes after his departure and startled Draco. At first, they just stood there looking at each other, a dark wonder in their eyes, but then Draco broke free of his temporary paralysis and threw himself in Harry's arms. "You bastard! Why did you leave me like that? I thought you were never coming back!"
Harry held him close to his chest and kissed the top of his head. "Of course I was coming back—I swore to you that I would never leave you, remember? I haven't broken that promise yet, and I intend never to do so, either."
Tears were streaming down Draco's flushed cheeks. "But why did you go like that without telling me where and why? I was worried, you dumb idiot fool! I was scared …"
He loved Harry for not commenting on his name-calling.
Harry forced him to look at him. Then he licked Draco's tears up. "I'm sorry, baby, I should've told you. I just didn't think you'd let me go."
A shadow passed over the surfaces of Draco's silver eyes. "Were you seeing someone else?"
Harry smiled humorously. "Yeah, in fact I was. I went to see Professor Lupin to tell him that I'm resigning from the Order."
That was not exactly what Draco had been expecting him to say. He was completely thrown off guard. "You … resigned? But why?"
Harry brushed a few strands of silver hair away from Draco's eye, lost in thought. Then he said, "I don't want to put you in danger, it's not right. Being an advocate of the Order means being a target—and anyone close to me would automatically become a target, as well. I just don't want to lose you again, not when I finally got you back."
Draco felt weak-kneed and light-headed when he heard that, and once again he began to cry. Only this time he was crying of joy. Harry took him in his arms again and soothed him, whispering consoling words in his ear and lovingly kissing the crown of his head, his ear, his cheek, his nose, his eyes, and finally the corners of his mouth.
There was no questioning the love between them; it was stronger than anything else in the world, and nothing could break them apart. Or at least so it seemed to them then, and since it was the only thing they knew, the only emotion so strong that they could not deny it, they were both convinced that it would last forever. The near future would, however, prove them wrong.
Draco laughed somewhat embarrassedly. "Look at me—I'm a mess!"
"But such a lovely mess," Harry murmured, teasingly nibbling at Draco's left earlobe.
"I need a shower, I'm drenched in cold sweat because of you."
"Me?"
"Yeah, you bloody scared me when you took off as if your hiney was on fire, so technically it's your fault that I'm sweating like a pig."
"Well, then I better make it up to you by rubbing your back. You Malfoys do have soap, don't you?"
"Yeah … and what do you want to do with the soap?"
"Do you have a bathtub?"
"Bigger than any other bathtub you have ever seen!"
"Show me."
Draco escorted Harry to the master bath, one of many rooms in the big Manor that Lucius Malfoy had taught his children was out of bounds to them.
It was obvious that Harry had something dirty in mind, because he kept touching him in sensitive places and teasing him with fleeting kisses all the way to the bathroom. When they had closed the door behind them, Harry pulled him into his arms and kissed him passionately, reminding him of their first night together at the Dursleys'. With lots of effort, they managed to restrain themselves until they were in the water, and Draco felt a burning yearning for Harry.
His desire was reflected in Harry's mysterious emerald eyes, like a cool fire. They had hardly gotten in the tub before Harry was all over him, his hands so hot against Draco's pale skin that he imagined them leaving burn marks. When Harry reached down and grasped his manhood, Draco gasped unwillingly, muscles tensing in his entire body. Harry began to stroke him, slowly at first, almost tenderly, but escalated in speed until Draco was shouting out loud, unable to control himself, and he knew that this was exactly the kind of scenario that turned Harry on.
When Draco was close to climax, Harry stopped and pulled his hand away, teasing him by not granting him the lovely pleasure of orgasm just yet, because he wanted to be a part of it.
"Please, quickly, quickly, please Harry, don't stop," he begged, and yelped happily when Harry entered him and instantly began to thrust forcefully to the accompaniment of his own low animal grunts and Draco's "ah, ah, ah" swiftly rising an octave.
Draco shouted out his name, this wonderful dark-haired creature who gave him such intense experiences both in the physical and the mental realm, shouted it repeatedly until he lost all control of himself and, desperately poking his fingertips into Harry's back, felt his muscles tense one last time before they went limp.
At the same time, Harry tensed and lost all control; "Dracums!" He came hard into Draco, filling the blonde up with a euphoric sensation that lasted for a magical ten seconds but felt like ten hours. Gratefully clinging to Harry, who was exhaustedly leaning his head back against the wall, Draco laughed.
"What is it?" Harry wondered, still panting happily.
"Nothing, really. I was just imagining my father's expression if he knew what we just did in his private tub."
Harry laughed as well. Then he kissed Draco's forehead. "I bet he'd go mad beyond repair."
"Yeah …" His voice trailed off. He played with the bubbles and the foam for a moment.
"Do you regret it?" Harry suddenly asked.
Draco looked up at him. "Regret what?"
"Killing him."
"Who? My father? No, I don't regret it. I'm glad I did it. He deserved what he got after what he did to us."
"I agree. But I was just thinking … I mean, he was your father …"
Draco straightened up somewhat and reached for the soap. "In the biological sense, yeah, but he never gave me any reason to actually think of him as my father. I was simply a status symbol to him, someone he could control and turn into a killing machine. I'm sorry to say I didn't see through his façade as quickly as Piper. You know, in that sense I really admire her. She never let our father control her, and she was never afraid of him. She simply used her skills as a witch to show him her true colours, and he never even tried to persuade her to join the dark side. He always knew she was beyond him. And he knew that she was too powerful to mess with."
Harry watched him as he spoke, and Draco had the feeling that he pitied him. "Don't," he said. "You shouldn't feel sorry for me, you've had it much worse than I have. You lost your parents before you were old enough to even remember them, and you had to grow up with those awful Dursleys …"
"Yeah, well, at least I have the comfort of knowing that they loved me unconditionally; you don't have that, Dracums," Harry pointed out with concern in his deep voice.
"No, I don't, but that's no reason to pity me. I can take care of myself."
"I know you can. I'm proud of you."
As promised, Harry rubbed Draco's back with loads of soap and made him shiny and clean and nice-smelling. They sat in the tub for an eternity, happier than they had both been for over a month's time, and they were very satisfied with their situation—
—until a strange man fell through the wall and landed on the floor next to the bathtub.