Nolite tes Bastardes Carborundorum

Nolite tes Bastardes Carborundorum

Part 1of 3

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My hands. Pale, slender...beautiful. The hands of an artist, I was once told, of a lover...of a killer. They are almost grotesque in their perfection, the alabaster skin the shade of a sculpture, of something lifeless. There is no sign, no indication left, no stain left on my hands, not one reminder of what these hands are capable of, of what they have done. Flawless. The injustice of it all is almost amusing. Almost.

The people outside are speaking to me again, no they couldn't be, speaking is a term applied to civilized people. No, they were shouting at me, pleading for a response from the monster behind bars. I couldn't distinguish words anymore, just a loud thunderstorm bearing down on me day after day.

What day is it? Or is it night? It's impossible to tell, the cells in Azkaban have no windows, no gap, no crack, no opening, no hope. What a sight I must present, I wonder. Camera flashes go off endlessly, why do they bother take pictures, why are they allowed to? To humiliate me, to make a spectacle of me, I am nothing but an animal now. A caged animal. Not that I had expected to be treated any different, my actions certainly didn't qualify me as human.

It's like being in a zoo, being stared at, being poked at...I don't understand their words, they're in some other language. The Ministry won't allow anyone from England or anyone who was involved in the War to come throw stones at me. Just people to whom I was a myth, a nightmare, and a story told to children by their parents in order to scare them. I don't think they believe their eyes, I could tell at least that much from their expressions.

Draco Malfoy.

It had become an unspeakable term; my name had been erased by fear though thankfully not replaced by something as tacky as 'You-Know-Who' or 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named'. Who came up with that anyways?

And now, seeing me like this, a shadow of a once great entity, what do they think of me? Do they pity this person, this man with his head bent, his pale hair shadowing his face, his hands splayed on his lap? Is that what they expected me to be? Do I disappoint them; do they expect me to show another great act of villainy so they can boast how they had witnessed Draco Malfoy in action?

Why do they even care?

'Nolite tes batardes carborundorum.' My father had prescribed this phrase in my mind since I can remember. Not much point of that father, not when you handed me to those 'bastardes' on a platter to begin with.

At least I know I didn't disappoint my father, I wonder if he knows that or if he resents me for what I've become. How can he hate his own creation? No, I can't hold him responsible for what I've become, I can't give him so much credit, he lacks the creativity.

Someone's speaking to me again. I feel a tentative, almost frightened touch on my shoulder, I look up and the Auror flinches away from me, not looking me in the eyes. There's a short asian man behind him, dressed in summer attire with a camera hanging around his neck, it was hard to make out their faces what with the limited illumination in my cell. He says something to the Auror, I don't know what but I suspect I will soon.

"Th-this man here is doing a project in Japan, he represents the Ministry of Magic there and - " He stops mid-sentence, probably to consider why he was even telling me all this. He looks at me hesitantly again and opens his mouth. "He asks if you're happy here."

I could have laughed, I think I did by the looks of horror on the audience's faces. Well that should have answered the man's question. Am I happy here? I didn't watch them slowly back out of the cell, I wasn't aware when all the onlookers left, I didn't know there was someone standing before me until the silence seemed to swallow my almost inhuman sounding cackles. I sigh, "Am I happy?"

"Are you?"

I close my eyes, it's just your imagination, he can't be here, I tell myself. He's not allowed to be here, just wish him away. No, I don't want him here, why is he here? I feel bile rising in my throat, funny how after all the monstrosities I've committed, my stomach can't stand his sight.

"Ah, Harry, I was wondering when you will come visit?" I smirk, I know it infuriates him, makes his blood boil, it gives me power over him. I wonder if he'll hit me, he sure as hell seems like he wants to, or maybe that's just repulsion at the thought of touching me. I could never tell with him.

"Don't call me that," he hisses. I can't see his face. I'm glad.

"Why, Harry," I say in a patronizing tone, "I remember a time when you used to like me calling your name...or was it calling out your name?" It seems trivial now but I've always worked to get a rise out of him, he knows that, but somewhere in my mind, it's genuine curiosity. Why the formalities now?

Potter looks at me, I can't call him by his name in my head, no that makes him real, makes him personal, makes him mine. He never was mine, even during the throes of passion; in my head he was Potter despite my lips deceiving me.

I think he's trying to read me, he never did succeed, he held on to the illusion that he understood me but now he's paying for his mistake. I look back in his eyes, I want to look away but his gaze holds me.

No.

I want to scream, to get away from him though my appearance gives no indication of my inner turmoil, his eyes are dead, lifeless, they are of a corpse. They've become like mine. It was like looking in a mirror, almost all my life I had avoided staring in my eyes, they scared me, I didn't know what I would find in them...what would be revealed to me...

'You have the eyes of a monster, a beast's, no remorse after taking a life,' He had laughed at the time, it seemed I amused Tom but maybe I'm being too presumptuous, too conceited yet I like to think he feared me, at some level I reminded him too much of himself, I doubt he was aware of what he'd become and my eyes showed him his reflection...if he didn't fear me...well he paid the price for that, eyes were the last thing he saw, I made sure of that.

"Was it all for revenge?" Potter finally speaks.

"Revenge? You think I care about you so much that I would go through all this trouble in order to hurt you? Think again, Harry, you don't mean anything to me." I hope he felt the bitterness in my words, I hope it stung him, I hope he didn't detect the lie.

"Then why?"

"I believe you were present at the hearing, even if you did miss anything I said, there must be records of it and you being the 'Boy Who Lives' will surely be granted access to it." I smile sweetly.

"That's what you told the world, I want you to tell me."

"I was under Veritaserum, Harry," I roll my eyes. "Not much of a choice is there? Other than telling the truth."

"You have ways around it, I know you."

"Though I'm flattered by how highly you think of me," I really was. "sadly that isn't the case." It was but I wasn't about to go spilling all my secrets to him.

I wish I could see his face now, a hidden Potter is quite frightening a prospect, no way of interpreting his next move and I know him too well, he didn't just come here for answers. I wonder why he's here, I ask him that.

Without warning, he's suddenly kneeling in front of me, his hands covering my own, I look down at his hands. The have more scars then I last remembered, his knuckles are bruised from what I can tell, there are gashes here and there, and scar tissue covers his left thumb. Oh how envious I am of him, I want to cut his hands off, how dare he have such hands, how dare he be more perfect than me.

"You know why I'm here," he whispers in my ear, his breath ghosting over my neck, sensually caressing my skin. I shiver against my will, I had promised myself that I would never let him toy with me again, never again.

My own strength surprises me at times, he looks like a kicked puppy, staring at me with his eyes from the floor. A smile spreads across his face, a chill runs down my spine. My eyes dart towards the entrance of the cell, there are no Aurors, no Dementors either, Potter must have arranged all this.

Suddenly I can't contain my anger at being betrayed like this, I trusted the Ministry, trusted them to keep me away from people and for people to be kept away from me. And I felt angry at Potter, how dare he use his position to manipulate others, where was Dumbledore now with his righteousness, where was Granger...

Oh, Granger...

Before I know it, his hands are buried in my hair, his lips scorching my own; somewhere at the back of my mind I think I'm dying. Suddenly I can see myself lying on the stone platform, with Potter covering me from head to toe.

I think I should be pushing him away, well at least I think that's the most rational thing to do but my limbs refuse to obey my mind. Traitors.

I'm clinging on to him as desperately as he is to me, he's trying to find something, I know but what he's looking for I'm not sure of. This kiss isn't anything knew yet I don't recall any familiarity, I taste bitterness as his tongue invades my mouth, he angrily bites down on my lower lip, hard enough until both of us can taste the metallic tang of blood. He draws away to suck in air.

"Never did learn to breathe through your nose, did you Harry?" I smirk, probably a mistake but I'm on a self-destructive path, there's no stopping me.

He bites my lip again. Hard. I cry out in pain but his parched lips swallow the sound, his hands are clutching my hair, he's holding on tightly, like a drowning man. The pain has grown so intense that my vision is starting to deter, just as I thought the pounding in my head was going to kill me, his hands are thrust under my shirt.

He tears at the buttons like an animal, I should be complaining I know, I probably would have under different circumstances but like I said, I'm on a self-destructive path, there's no stopping Potter.

His mouth latches on to my left nipple, my back arches into him, and his hands are now holding me down by my wrists as he bites my sensitive nub. His teeth trail up my chest, dragging angry marks until he comes to my collarbone, chewing at the skin, there's more pain than pleasure, I start to struggle against him but his hold is like iron, my struggles are ignored by him.

I'm disgusted by myself, I'm sick to the stomach, I hate myself for allowing this, for allowing Potter to use me, again, further more I'm appalled for enjoying this. My cries of pain have soon turned into moans as I turn my head to expose more of my neck for Potter to mark. He smiles against my skin.

Bastard.

"Never did learn to resist me, Draco."

He lets go of my wrists and straddles back on my waist. I turn my eyes away from him, knowing I would find nothing but humiliation there, he grabs my chin until I'm facing him. With a quick peck on my lips, which could almost have been called gentle, he starts working on my trousers. His hands haven't even touched my crotch and already the bulge is apparent, he looks up and gives me a grin.

I'm disgusting.

Within seconds, he has pulled me out of my trousers, his hands are stroking the insides of my thighs, teasing and touching everywhere but where I crave the most. The yearning I'm displaying disgusts me.

He bends down until his lips are inches above my groin, "Tell me how much you want me." His hot breath makes me moan, I wish someone would interrupt this, whatever 'this' is.

I hope no one comes in.

All I can manage in response is a pathetic whimper, he takes me in his mouth, and the sudden heat that has engulfed me makes it hard for me to breath as I suck in air in small gasps. I feel the fire collecting in my stomach, my fingers uselessly dig into the stone, desperate for something to hold onto, just before I think the world is going to shatter around me, he moves away.

I look up in horror, my erratic pants making it hard to form words. This is it, I know why he came, to torture me, to humiliate me, to remind me that he still had the power to turn me into a pathetic puddle on the floor and then leave me.

My thoughts are chaotic in my head, I'm too shocked, too hurt, too angry to say anything coherent, it must have shown on my face as the bastard winked at me. He suddenly turned me around and my head banged against the hard stone beneath me, the rough surface digging into me as he pressed a hand down on my back to keep me from turning around. My hardness trapped painfully between his weight on me and the stone bed below.

I should have expected what came next, in fact I should have been used to it by now yet it still came as a painful shock as Potter penetrated me from behind. My cry of agony was muffled against the hard surface, tears leaked from my eyes as I felt like being torn apart, the bastard didn't even wait, he started thrusting mercilessly, his hand still pressing me down, making it impossible to move.

I could tell that he was close, I'm not sure if I had come already, my body was numb, and even then I could hear the moans escaping my mouth in synchronization with his own rhythmic sounds of pleasure.

The moment I felt warmth burst inside me, something else barged into my head. I was wrong before, wrong about why Potter had come here, to use me yes but he used me to find the answers I was refusing to give him otherwise. He really did play dirty, I would have felt foolish for underestimating me if I wasn't too busy trying to push him out of my mind. But I was spent, as he knew I would be hence he chose this procedure, soon visions were flying by in front of my eyes. I closed my eyes but the pictures didn't go away.

I saw Granger, chained to the walls in one of the many dungeons in Malfoy Manor, blood dripping from between her legs, her hair torn and muddy. Deep cuts running down the round globe of her stomach. Her head was thrown back in agony; she wanted to clutch her sides protectively yet the chains prevented her from doing so. Tears mixed with dirt ran down her face, she truly was a pathetic sight. Mudblood. The word described her perfectly.

I was beginning to feel angry, no angry is not a strong enough word to describe it but then I realize they weren't my emotions; Potter was still in my head. I felt him break the mental barriers I had constructed around some of my deepest thoughts.

Now the scene had shifted, my most abhorrent memories were brought in front of me to relive, I was on all fours in front of the 'Big Bad' himself, once again I felt bile rising in my throat as I saw myself swallow the disgusting, withered, piece of flesh, the moans filled the room as Voldemort thrashed beneath me.

No. No, no, no, no, no....NO!

I pushed him out of my head, he was thrown across the cell. I heard a satisfying crack as he hit the wall opposite, I couldn't hold the bile in any longer as I bent over in a corner and starting retching. I sat back, my legs clutched to my chest and my head buried in my knees. The newspapers would have a field day if they could see Draco Malfoy like this, oh how the times had changed, the only thing missing from the picture were a pair of shackles.

"You're despicable," I heard him say, "you're pathetic, you're lower than shit. You're the worst person I had the misfortune of - "

"Why so surprised now, Harry?" I hissed. "You knew everything already, oh that's right, it didn't matter to you as long as you had a hole to fuck."

"Don't you dare - "

"Dare what? Tell you the truth? Wasn't it you who told me that I would sell myself to anyone on two legs? Well Lord Voldemort qualifies as someone on two legs." I didn't realize I had started shouting, I had suppressed everything for so long but no more, Potter wanted answers well he was going to get them. "And what about you? At least I know my limits, you went and knocked up your own best friend - "

Again I should have seen that coming, the slap left a searing pain on my cheek, I wonder how many bruises I'm going to have for tomorrow. After all a Malfoy must always appear prim, even for his own death sentence.

"You motherfucking bastard!"

I spat out blood as I looked at him and offered him a dazzling smile, "You're right about the mother fucking part though as far as I know, I think I was conceived under wedlock, unless there's something I haven't been told."

"You're disgusting, you know that?"

"Stop saying the same thing again and again, Harry, yes we know I'm disgusting, after all I just let you fuck me. Speaking of that, I must tell you, I don't blame you for what you did with Granger, I mean she was a great fuck though of course your hole's tighter then hers. You should have told me she was a loud one, did she scream as loud when you were thrusting in and out of her?"

Even I know I had crossed my boundaries, but it's already been established that I'm on a self-destructive path so why not move along it a bit. He gave a loud snarl and wrapped his fingers around my throat, I didn't resist, the trick to beating pain is embracing it, how else would I be alive today after all the Cruciatus Curses I underwent. It was hard but I managed one of the best smirks of my life, but my eyes fluttered close before his hate could further intensify.

I was floating in darkness. Have I died? I was sure that when I die I would be met with the blazing fires of hell and be whipped by Satan himself for all eternity...

I rapped lightly on the wooden door in front of me. There was a long pause before it creaked open by itself. With my head bowed I walked slowly into the round chamber and bent before the throne like chair in the middle of the room.

"No need for you to bow, Draco," he purred, "I know where your loyalties lie, I made sure of that."

"Thank you, my lord," I say as I rise up, still not meeting his eyes. He got off his chair and walked towards me, I think it annoyed him that I was taller than him but never did give any indication, he pushed my hood back and took my chin in his skeletal fingers.

"Lift your sleeve," he said, I didn't need to be told of which hand. He trailed a finger over the length of my arm, I managed to suppress a shudder as his cold touch caressed the Dark Mark on my left arm. There was one flaw that irked him beyond anything else and that was the name of one Harry Potter on my arm. "It's irreversible, you say?" I could tell he was trying not to make his anger obvious.

"I am loathe to say it my lord."

"Hmm...We shall have to rectify that, I will mark you another way." He pushed his coarse lips against mine, I obediently parted my lips to allow his tongue access into my mouth. He pulled away after a while. "You are mine."

I expected to be blinded by light when my eyes opened but I was greeted with the darkness of my cell. I looked around, it seemed Potter had left, I wonder how much damage he afflicted on me as I had passed out in the beginning. I tried to raise my arm and touch my face but found myself incapable of doing so, I lay on the floor for a few more minutes, not surprisingly I was still naked and it seemed every part of my body was aching in agony, he must have really outdone himself this time.

I finally manage to stand up though I had to hold onto the stone wall to steady myself. My clothes were near by and I started to put them on, though it took me longer than necessary I finally managed the job before slumping down on the stone platform which wasn't a good choice as muscles I didn't know existed burnt inside my body.

I remembered the dream, or more likely the things that occurred which I hadn't seen in the dream, thankfully.

I lay on my stomach as my arse was too sore to sit on, I wonder how I'm going to be able to sit in that bloody chair tomorrow, or today, whatever the time is.

Oh what my life has become, if I can even call it that. I knew it, everyone else around me knew it, knew that starting anything with Potter was crazy, it was unthinkable but I guess I had already started going down my self-destructive path without even realizing it.

It certainly couldn't have been called making-love, that act requires love to be present between the individuals; no it wasn't even sex or casual shagging. It was fucking, hard, rough, and painful fucking. Just enough to make me forget who I was and what was expected of me. I suppose it was the same with Potter, though I didn't expect what came after, I didn't expect to hear his confessions, about his guilt over the death of Sirius Black, about the growing distance between his friends, about the lies Dumbledore fed him, about the prophecy even and somewhere along the way our relationship changed though of course there was still fucking but now there was a morning after or moment after the fuck depending on what time we did it.

"Harry, it's freezing where are you taking me?" I shivered and wrapped the cloak more closely around me. He was more or less dragging me through the snow as he refused to let go of my hand.

"Don't worry, I'm not kidnapping you." He grinned.

"Hmm...now that you say it, being kidnapped by you doesn't sound so bad, I'll let you have your wicked way with me."

"I don't need to kidnap you to have my wicked ways with you, you're an easy fuck as it is." He laughed. I jerked my hand out of his grasp and crossed my arms petulantly.

"Is that so? Well, I'm withholding sex starting from now."

He came towards me and wrapped his arms around my waist, pressing our bodies closer, I leaned into his warmth as he placed a kiss on my cheek. "Aww...you can't do that. I will go into withdrawal and then I will have dirty fantasies while in Potions, we don't want that now do we?" he whispered in my ear.

"What kind of dirty fantasies?"

"Where I have you chained in the dungeons, I lick and bite every part of you, marking you as mine and then I will tease you with one finger, not pushing it in and you will moan in impatience, I will softly laugh over..." he stroked my crotch through the front of my jeans, "and you will arch upwards, begging me to take you into my mouth and - "

"Harry please," I moan. "Let's hurry up and come back or I might just jump you in the snow, and I'm not too keen on having my privates falling of due to frostbite."

"Ok, ok," he laughed. "But no talk about withholding sex anymore."

I nod eagerly as we start moving again.

Apparently Potter had been taking private lessons with Aurors and was able to apparate even though we were still in sixth year. I felt a bit jealous of him back then, it seemed he was set on surpassing me in everything though I soon forgot about that when he put his apparition skills in good use, like sneaking out of Hogwarts and going to...

"Knockturn Alley?" I shrieked as I turned to face him. "Are you crazy, what the hell are we doing here?"

"Calm down, you prat," he hissed as he held me tightly inside the Invisibility Cloak. "Do you want us to be found?"

He had carefully manoeuvred us until we were standing in front of a suspicious looking sign. 'Stabit's Magical Tattoo and Piercing Shack.'

"I'm starting to wonder about your definition of 'having your wicked ways with me'." I said.

"Draco, don't be such a coward, come on, let's go inside." He pushed me through the door as a bell rang somewhere inside the small room. "This is your Christmas present, we're getting a tattoo."

"If you honestly expect me to let a man whose name is 'Stabit' come near me, you really are off your rocker," I sneered. "Forget it." I started to walk towards the exit but Potter grabbed me by my arm.

"Look, please, for me," he pulled off his puppy dog face. "I want us to have something identical."

I looked around the shop suspiciously, "I thought hot, steamy sex was your Christmas present to me." I pouted.

"Oh that will come after," he smirked. "And loads of it."

There's not much difference between Potter and Voldemort, both marked me, both wanted me to be their object, their play thing, neither of them succeeded. I push aside my tattered sleeve and look at my arm; the Dark Mark had somewhat faded; yet the red words that had been etched on my skin three years ago were still as fresh as the day they were done. Voldemort had thought his Dark Mark would hide it yet it still showed through.

Harry Potter's Love Slave.

I wonder if Potter still has his.

...to be continued...