Nolite tes Bastardes Carborundorum

Nolite tes Bastardes Carborundorum

Part 3 of 3

~*~

Where's my wand, where the fuck is my...? My train of thought is broken by the searing pain that makes its path up my spine. I think I'm crying, or puking or convulsing or something, I hope I'm doing something.

Oh God...please let me be doing something...anything...rather than lying here like a ragdoll, being fucked by Merlin only knows who. Yes, I'm an object and the part that's being fucked is the lower part of my body, I'm an object, an instrument, not something born.

I must not think, thinking can hurt my chances. This is only a test, the beginning of my initiation into the Dark Lord's circle. I must not think because I intend to last.

I close my eyes. Don't think Draco, this is not happening, just...just imagine you're somewhere else. This is a bad dream, a horrible dream...terrifying even.

Open your eyes, open your eyes dammit. At least have the fucking courage to look your torturer in the eyes...I don't want to, God I don't want to open my eyes. I'm terrified of this nightmare but I don't want to wake up, what I find upon waking might be worse than now, much worse.

My body shudders as it finds release, a potion they fed me, for my body to react though all I can feel are the cold fingers digging into my hips...the shackles biting into my wrists and the thing...the thing buried in me...please let it stop.

"He's so beautiful, Lucius..." I hear the detestable purr, the hiss crawls under my skin, making its way towards my heart, wrapping around it in cold terror. "Just like you...so pretty...and he' so pale. The red looks so pretty, like a white rose dipped in blood..."

A sob escapes my burning throat and I feel a hand smoothing my hair yet I don't open my eyes, I know what I'll find but don't they say ignorance is bliss?

"Shh...my dragon..." a whisper in my air, warm breath caressing my skin. "Daddy's here...he'll take care of you."

I think I did open my eyes and scream for I didn't find my 'father' molesting me but Lucius Malfoy, a cold bastard who'd fuck his son's cold corpse just to find his own pleasure.

"Nolite te bastardes carborundorum, Draco," he whispered in my ear, a moist, disgusting tongue flickering against my ear. "Don't let the bastards grind you down, Draco. Never."

He slid out of my body and I wanted to die, I think I did, I can't imagine how anyone can survive after being fucked like that, like a hole on two legs and nothing else.

"Hmm...take him to my chambers, Luciussss..." he hissed. "I too shall play with the petals of this rose, I too shall drink the nectar from the pretty pink lips..."

"Yes my lord."

Everything was a blur, like looking through rain...I think Lucius must have covered my nakedness, my shame. I refuse to call him father, he lost that right a long time ago. I was finally pushed down on a bed, the comfort of the sheets while welcome didn't console my fears of what was to occur on them later on.

"You know, Draco," Lucius paced in front of me, his hands holding his chin in a curious manner. "I heard some rumours, of course I didn't believe them but then I saw something on your arm. It seems that you've been consorting with the enemy."

I didn't answer him, even I couldn't believe the mistakes I've made and to think...to fucking think that this 'relationship' with Potter, if it could be called that would actually go somewhere.

"Oh so you're not going to deny it. I wonder what the Dark Lord will have to say about this..." he mused.

"Go on Lucius," I spat his name in disgust. "Go and crawl to your master, let him fuck you and tell you how 'pretty' you are. After all that's the only thing you're useful for right?"

"How dare you - "

"But do you know what?" I looked at him insolently, a manic grin spreading across my face. By now all shreds of sanity had escaped me. "I know Voldemort's weakness, he likes pretty things, let's see how long before he gets tired of you."

"If you think the Dark Lord will let you live after I tell him about you and Potter, you are clearly - "

"Mistaken? I think not, father," I said in a patronizing tone. "See, I'm the new catch in the market, though I don't doubt your abilities, I am much younger than you therefore more desirable.

"And you know what else? Voldemort hates the fact that Potter's marked me, he knows I resent his touch that is why he yearns for me more. I don't offer myself to him like a whore, the way you do. To claim me, he needs to fight. And we all know he's a sadistic bastard, he enjoys the struggle, the rejection, it's like an aphrodisiac for him."

"We'll see about that," Lucius sneered.

"One more thing, Lucius," I said, my blank face belying the emotions coursing through my blood. "I will never let anything happen to, Potter, not as long as I live.

"And I plan on hanging around for a long time."

A long time indeed. Love is strange isn't it? It makes you weak, makes you resent yourself to the point where you can't stand to look at yourself in the mirror, yet the thought of anything happening to Potter, even the days when my hatred for him was so high that I could taste it on my tongue, even then the thought of any harm coming to him would make me physically sick.

I feel as if a weight has been lifted from upon me. I never acknowledged to myself I loved him, I didn't even think of the word, to me it was a taboo, a mirage. But now that I have, I think I can die now, I have served my purpose in this war.

Why won't they just kill me?

"Oh, what have they done to my baby?"

I look up to see Narcissa walking briskly towards me, her arms open wide in an unceremonious gesture of affection. I don't call her mother anymore, no because the images usually affiliated with such a word are that of maternal protectiveness. Yet it will only further sicken me, I wasn't lying to Potter, I had fucked my own mother. What can I say, Voldemort was a sick voyeur, he would get off on two goats fucking each other, my mother and I were a favourite past time of his.

While she's caressing my hair and complaining about the state of my attire and how unfairly the Ministry is treating me, the other occupant of this cell regards me silently.

"Hello, Lucius." I offer him a grin, one that I always reserved for him. One that made him want to choke me to death or alternatively cast me under a hundred Crucio's but not to kill me of course, it seems I was an exceptionally good fuck toy. "I told you I would last and live to see no harm come to Potter."

"You are a fool, Draco," he jeered. "You could have done so much, had so much power but you wasted the opportunity. For what? A casual fuck from Potter?"

"What makes you think I wasted the opportunity?"

He raises an eyebrow at me, challengingly.

"Are you sure you want a demonstration, father?"

Lucius snorted, "Draco, you could never surpass me. True, you raised your status through Voldemort's Inner Circle impressively, yet you never achieved the level expected from a Malfoy. You were only, in your own words, a pretty fuck. I have a present for you, one you were very fond of in childhood. I hope you'll put it to good use."

He extricates a short, sheathed dagger from his robes and hands it to me. I remember this one very well; it had been the cause of my first lesson in 'Malfoy etiquettes', as my father had put it. The mind of an eight year old hadn't grasped the whole ordeal, I doubt anyone would have regardless their age what with the amount of pain I was subjected. I probably would still have the marks carved into my skin had it not been for Lucius' exceptional skills in concealing charms, at times I can still feel the smooth blade splitting my skin, at times I still can't scream.

"Wasn't you who told me suicide was a coward's way out?"

"Not if it is done before the last shreds of one's dignity are spent," he said. He looked around the dirty cell and his face curled up in disgust before his eyes once again settled upon mine. The gleam in the grey orbs deceived the expression on his face; there was triumph but also...lust?

I wonder if he gets aroused at the thought of me, weak and bound. I wonder if he jerks off while thinking about his pretty son, or whether he imagines a face so similar to his when he is surrounded by a faceless victim's heat...

"Time's up."

"This will be farewell then, son," Lucius said softly. He brought his jewel-laden fingers towards my face one last time, his touch barely stroking my lips, his thumb brushing my eye lashes while I sat there, barely stopping myself from recoiling. I felt my stomach churn, my lungs burn as I deprived myself of oxygen, afraid that one movement will cause the tumult of hatred and revulsion to break free, afraid that the storm of rage building inside me might take down every thing else also.

So I sat there, swallowing the nausea until he finally moved away and I could take a huge breath of relief.

My whole form was trembling with repressed loathing, oh how I hated him, hated him for the sins he drove me to commit, for defining who I am, for binding me helpless by the Malfoy name...hated him for letting me endure the constant abuse, the rape of both mind and body, most of all I hated him for what he had made me become.

Like him.

I looked at the ruby encrusted sheath of the dagger...he intended me to finally finish off this pathetic existence I called life. My own laughter sounded frightening and humourless in my ears, of course, what else could be expected from Lucius Malfoy. Still wanting others to do the dirty jobs for him.

I leaned back against the stone wall, welcoming the chill provided by the jagged surface, like water trickling down my spine. I can feel the imminent assault of memories about to overwhelm me, just waiting for some sort of trigger, an indication.

What's happening to me?

Sometimes it hurts so bad, I want to gnaw and tear at my skin, however futile my efforts may be, it's not a physical pain, not one that can be helped through magic or medication. No, it's his voice, that soft hiss that used to send chills down my bones, used to make my blood run cold, used to make me hate him so much yet hate myself even more.

His whispers caressing the edges of my mind, seeking entrance. I can hear him all the time and when I don't, when I finally manage to quell his voice, the silence is worse.

Even now, his power runs amok in my blood, slithering from vein to vein, making its way swiftly towards my heart, and blackening the organ with its darkness.

I can't stand it anymore, this constant anticipation for something to come, like standing on the edge of a cliff, knowing I'm going to fall yet suspended in void forever.

I remember the time that Lucius had first brought me to Voldemort's chamber. I had been left there for days, praying to God that he would just come get it over and done with, the morbid anxiety making me break out in cold sweat. I suppose it amused him, he was always finding ways to make me submit, even when I did...

"Do you hate it when I touch you?"

He's playing with me again; these little mind games...with no answer being the right one.

"What do you want me to say?"

"Hmm..." he chuckled, the sound ricocheting off the walls and echoing back into him as if he was calling his voice back. "Indulge me, my dark rose."

I slide down his withered body, making sure my fingers don't tremble as they brush along his skin until my flawless hands wrap around him. His cock twitches in eagerness and before the bile could erupt past my lips, I swallow him...yet his inhumane moans grating against my skin pull the vomit up my throat...my mouth is filled with his thick seed and my own sickness as it drips down his length...he took some sort of perverse pleasure from my agony, my disgust...

...it was moments like those that told me that hell really did exist and my damnation was as eternal as that of Faustus' soul, which he sold to Lucifer himself.

"Why this is hell, nor am I out of it," I quote, my voice taunting the words back at me, confining me to the hell that exists in my very being. I too am like Mephistopheles, the devil, who tasted the pleasures of Elysium only to be perished as he mutinied against God.

But when did I go against God? What did I do to you, oh Almighty One, to have received such retribution? Was it wrong of me to ask for love, for devotion...for anything akin to human emotion? Or was it that I chose the wrong person? Do I really not deserve Harry?

My eyes widen at the incredulity of my thoughts before they close again as a shaky laugh escapes my throat, the movement causing the tears to spill from my eyes.

Harry.

I finally started calling him Harry, I hadn't realized it before but it's always been at the back of my mind, I think with this realisation comes another one.

When he was just Potter to me, it didn't matter, he was just another body, another face, another name. But when he became Harry...he was mine and that was a mistake, to think that Harry could belong to me. He couldn't. He was the saviour of the Wizarding World and as preposterous as it sounds he was a national resource.

Everyone wanted a piece of him.

Everyone got a piece of him.

Except for Draco Malfoy.

I lay down on the stone bed, curled up in a foetal position, pathetic really. For once I would like peace of mind, for the voices to stop, for the silence to not be so condemning, for once I would like to dream.

What would I dream of?

Hmm...let's see, a beach. The sun warming my pale skin while I bathe in its glow, holding a tumbler with an oddly coloured drink, oh and with a purple umbrella too. And when my face has heated enough, I mean I wouldn't want to mar my perfect complexion of course, that's inconceivable, I may be a sick psychopath but I'm a beautiful, sick psychopath. Apparently vanity has been engraved in the Malfoy genes, or so I've heard.

Anyways, I'm digressing again, where was I? Yes, so I would turn on my stomach and cushion my head on my arms, just when I am about to doze off, I will feel cool hands on my shoulders.

The touch makes me shiver despite the warmth, but pleasantly so. A kiss on my nape, on my shoulder blades...the calloused fingers massaging my back, exploring every dip and curve. I will try to brush him away, act as if I'm irritated but we both know how much I'm enjoying this show of affection, despite my not-so-hard struggles he manages to turn me over.

Green eyes dancing with mirth look into my own, coming closer to my face each moment until I fear I'm going to become cross-eyed but then I just shut my eyes lids, I suppose he does too, as warm lips descend upon my own.

He aligns his body perfectly on to mine; skin rubbing together just as our tongues do, dancing around each other, teasingly.

'You have the eyes of a monster, a beast's, no remorse after taking a life.'

My eyes open in a flash greeted by the familiar darkness of the cell. My heart is pounding in my ears, struggling to provide enough oxygen around my body but no sounds, not even the roar of the blood rushing in my ears can drown out the soft hiss reverberating in my head.

My skin breaks out in cold sweat; I can't seem to stop myself from shaking. I grasp my left wrist with my right hand yet the tremors do not cease. The voice isn't as loud anymore, but there isn't only one either, pieces of conversations...the things he said to me...his taunts, his moans...they are all resonating in my head endlessly. I feel so cold as images from my past resurrect in front of my eyes; make it stop. Oh God, make it stop.

"Azkaban gets to you doesn't it, Malfoy?" I hear but do not see the owner of the voice. "Pray that they give you the Kiss, and it will all be over soon."

Strong hands grab me, I feel the cold cuffs around my wrist but my eyes remain unseeing. Instead my vision is blurred with crimson...rivers of crimson, with lost limbs floating, struggling to keep from drowning.

"You're just like me, my dark rose, a murderer. You enjoy taking lives, the power it gives you. You don't want to save them, do you?"

"I couldn't save them."

I find myself in that small, bright room again.

"Draco, are you alright?"

"Don't come near me!" I nearly scream, backing away from him and stumbling over the chair in the middle of the room. I can sense his alarm but more than that I can sense his concern for me, what must he be seeing? Wild silver orbs, darting for a means of escape, trembling limbs, pale face...or is he seeing him?

"You want to kill them, hear their screams. Go on..."

I can feel him just waiting to erupt from inside me, if he does I know he will rip me apart. I have to get out of here before I do...no before he does something devastating. I look pleadingly at Snape, a whimper escaping my mouth due to the sheer force needed to keep him from escaping.

He must have understood me.

"Stupefy."

"Pet, I'm bored..." I say in a whiny voice, while tracing a pale finger down his scaly face. I bend down and place a kiss on his shrivelled lips, his arms come to hold me in place on his lap as he pushes his tongue past my lips.

I deliberately do these things in front of Lucius, to show him how far I've come and how far below he's fallen. I can feel his heated stare at the back of my head; his jealousy makes it almost endurable.

"Let's attack Hogwarts." I turn around in Voldemort's lap to face the Death Eaters present. "Lucius take your Death Eaters and attack Hogwarts, you might as well do something constructive."

"My lord, forgive me but that's a ridiculous idea, the castle is surrounded by the best Aurors from around the world. We're not prepared as well - "

"Are you saying that our Lord's Death Eaters are incompetent?" I narrow my eyes at the man I once called father. I turn to face Voldemort again who is regarding all this with amusement dancing in his crimson slits. "Pet, tell him to do what I say."

"Hmm..." Voldemort seems to consider my proposition. "I admire the faith you have in my followers, but my dark rose, you are young. It doesn't deem sensible to go into these things without any preliminary strategy."

"I am not a child." I pout and turn away from him. His fingers snake around my chin and make me turn to him, I still keep the insolent mask in place as he chuckles at my childishness. "But we've been waiting for ages, this is a good time as any. Please, Pet?"

"Why so eager?"

"Because I want that bastard Potter's head at my feet as soon as possible," I hiss in anger, my face contorted in rage, as Voldemort expected so. I look at him pleadingly, my hands working at the clasps of his cloak, I gently stroke his chest and eventually he softens under my touch.

"Lucius, prepare for battle."

"But, my lord..."

"Crucio." I point my wand at him and he falls to the ground, writhing in all his Malfoy glory. I take the curse off as Voldemort places his claw like hands on my wand arm. "No one questions my pet," I snarl when Lucius is conscious enough to understand my words. "Now, are there any more objections?"

No one says anything, with a clap of my hands, they all scurry towards the exist, looking like a cloud of black. I settle against Voldemort's chest, watching the activity in amusement as he places kisses on my neck.

"Hmm...what say you to a little stress relieving?" He was talking about sex, of course. It wasn't a question and I wasn't supposed to take it like one, but I was never an obedient child.

"I don't feel like it," I shrug. "Maybe after tonight's celebration."

"Celebration?" His voice is dangerously soft. I can feel the anger radiating from him at my audacity to turn him down.

"After we destroy Hogwarts, of course."

"Why so sure, my dragon?"

"Are their any doubts?"

I turn fully on his lap, straddling his thighs before leaning into touch his lips with my own. I wonder if he knows I still loathe his touch as much as I always did or whether he really thinks he finally has me under his submission. This touching of lips, of bodies and of flesh, is nothing more than a ritual to me. I take it as a duty one must perform as much as I abhor it, for the greater good. Ha, what a joke!

The man has no stamina whatsoever, my hands hadn't even reached his disgusting cock and already sleep was circling above his head, some quick movements around his shoulders and he's asleep.

This will get me the time I need, I had specifically told Gregory to deliver a message to Potter for me, and so far my loyal friend hadn't let me down, nor do I expect him to.

The waiting wouldn't be for long, I know, Potter still jumped into things and thought later, such a Gryffindor trait.

I use my wand to levitate the limp body of Voldemort, I can do it without my wand but the surge of magic might wake him up. I carry him to 'our' bedroom and lay him down on the massive four poster bed. I have timed it perfectly, I know Potter better than he knows himself, I wait for two minutes before crawling over to Voldemort and using my 'abilities' to rouse him up.

As expected I find a bony hand crushing my oesophagus before he realizes that he's choking me to death, his grip loosens and he pulls me towards him and plunders my mouth with his tongue. I pull away after a moment and grin at him as I start stripping.

"I've told you not to startle me."

"And when do I ever listen?"

I slowly unbutton my black shirt, exposing myself excruciatingly slowly until he can't take it anymore and with a wave of his wand I find myself naked as the day I was born.

"Not fair." I pout. "You take all the fun away."

He laughs at my antics. I roll my eyes and start to undress him, while his rough hands roam over my body, by now I've had enough practice not to flinch away from his touch. I lick his hardened nipple, but then again practice doesn't always make perfect, here I barely stop myself from gagging as I trail my tongue over his skeletal form.

I reach his pants and unbuckle them with my teeth, freeing his already weeping member. I tease him for a moment, kissing and licking everywhere but his hardened flesh. He hates it when I do that yet it pleasures him greatly, he grabs me painfully by my hair and pushes my head down towards his member.

I comply, for once, and take it in my mouth, though it's been a long time since I've vomited around him, the smell of sick and sex always comes back. I ignore my train of thought and concentrate on pleasuring my master.

Soon he's nothing but a writhing pile of bones underneath me, I know exactly what he likes and how he likes it, I make pleasure for him almost painful, keeping his orgasm at bay for as long as possible, until he's nothing but a quivering bundle of nerves.

His moans vibrate around the room as my head bobs up and down his length, just two more licks, and he will be completely gone. I can feel him tense, I know he's close, I wait a split second before his seed spills into my mouth and bite down hard, as hard as I can, as if my life depends on it.

I taste blood and sperm as I wrench my mouth away, taking half of his length between my teeth. He's still writhing on the bed, from pain or pleasure I'm not sure, probably both, the sick bastard. I feel something go inside me, like a dark cloud, something contaminating but I disregard it as after effects of Voldemort's demise, I mean I didn't exactly expect it to go perfectly. So what if I become the next Dar lord? At least I'm prettier.

I get off the bed and spit out the disgusting piece of flesh, watching with a calm expression on my face as Voldemort's hands flail about for support, or for his wand.

"You can come out now, Potter," I say without turning around. I'd like to think he's admiring my arse but he's probably too shocked, oh well, a guy can dream right. "You know, he's not going to be dancing about for long, so if you want to get this over and done with I suggest that you move now."

I hear a rustle of cloth behind me, that damn Invisibility Cloak of course, but I've always known where he is, regardless of how he's hiding. Me? Obsessive? Of course not.

He comes to stand beside me, his eyes glued to the naked form of one Tom Marvolo Riddle and he raises his wand, surprisingly his arm's quite steady.

"Avada Kedavra." The word whistles past his lips and a jet of green collides with Voldemort's chest. No big bang occurs, no sudden resurrection of pre-historic dinosaurs, no apocalypse whatsoever, he died exactly like any evil lord should. His mouth opens in a silence scream, his crimson slits widen before his body stills and the entity that everyone came to fear is nothing but a sack of withered flesh. "It's over," he whispers.

I scrunch my nose at the choice of his words, Merlin forbid Gryffindors come up with something intelligent or a bit more dramatic.

"I'll say." I push the body off the bed and it falls with a loud thud, boy was he heavy. "So Potter, fine day, eh?"

He looks at me, the green eyes that have haunted my dreams these past two years stare at me with something familiar. I hold my breath, no I absolutely refuse to become a big puddle of patheticness, hmm...is that a word? Anyways yeah, I refuse to...damn what was I saying...

His eyes are unnerving to say the least, I think he's still trying to work me out.

"Why?"

"Why is it a fine day?" I arch an eyebrow. "I dunno, Potter, when you go to heaven, do ask God for me, I wonder if they have owl post from heaven to hell."

He's on top of me in a flash, I'm not wearing anything and I didn't really see the need for any coyness now, not in front of Potter, anyways. The way his clothes are rubbing against my member is creating perfect friction. No, must stop brain from taking a walk down the gutter. But I know I'm already hardening.

He grabs me by the back of my head and crushes his lips against mine. For once in two years, the feeling of revulsion doesn't rise in me, this kiss doesn't cause tears of repression to spring in my eyes. His lips are as soft and warm as I've always remembered; his hands calloused from Quidditch yet as gentle as always as they weave in my hair.

Soon his clothes are gone too, hopefully they didn't fall on Voldemort's body, how long till a corpse starts to decompose anyway? What happened next wasn't surprising at all. Our bodies still fit together as they had done before, the contrast of our skin creating an aura of its own. The breathing, the pants, all familiar gestures yet there still was a strangeness to it. It felt like coming home from war, the smells that greet you had always been there with you but there still is something not quite discernible about it.

I turn him over and kneel near his thighs; the words are still etched in his skin as surely as they are in mine.

Property of Draco Malfoy. Do not touch.

I had made sure the words were carved where only I could see them, the inside of his left thigh, I bet the Fates must be laughing at the irony of it all. But this is no time for contemplation, time is running short and I haven't reached home yet.

And when he entered me, oh God, I had died and gone to...not heaven...but, somewhere. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, one hand working furiously on my own hardness while the other was stroking my hair, just as both our seeds spilt, I felt another sort of wetness on my neck.

The sob that escaped him pulled me out from my post-sex euphoria. I didn't know what to do but to hold him, it was like that time again when he used to tell me about things in his life. That time. Sounds like a fairytale. I held him against my chest as sobs wracked his body before he pulled away and wiped at his eyes.

"Hey, we had sex on Voldemort's bed. Check if he's writhing in anger." I joked. Potter gave me a watery smile before he too gave a raspy laugh. He looked like a child then, what with the blotchy face, the watery eyes, the pouting lips and how much I want him.

"The Aurors are coming," he said after a while.

"Unless you want them to find us joined at the hip..." he blushed and slid out of me, he looked around uncertainly, confusion written all across his face.

I got up past him and started putting my clothes on, he does the same, we dress in silence.

What a sight we must have presented, sitting on the edge of the bed like two boys being reprimanded for talking in Church.

The Aurors just stared at us two and then at the naked body of Voldemort on the floor, Snape must have understood as he saw our face yet the others weren't as perceptive.

"And you know what happened after."

I hadn't been aware that I was fed Veritaserum, thankfully there was no one other than Snape and Dumbledore in the room. I was brought out of my past after a moment and my eyes focused on the two faces in front of me, one staring at me in horror while the other in intrigue. It was Dumbledore that spoke first.

"So Draco, you're saying that you had already...ahem..." he coughed "Incapacitated Voldemort before the arrival of Harry?" I nod. "Draco, listen to me carefully, we can still turn this hearing around. This is your last chance, we can plead for amnesty on the account that you were, say working for me and helped bring Voldemort down, then we can work on your powers later on."

"I'd just like to go back to my cell for now, please," I whispered. The onslaught of memories had exhausted me. Dumbledore sighed before nodding as he released my arms from the cuffs that had bound me through out the rendezvous. "I - I'd like to see," I bite my lower lip in deliberation, "To see him. If it's possible."

Dumbledore stared intently at me before giving me a fatherly smile. "He's waiting for you."

When I was taken back to my cell, Harry was already sitting there. I felt Kingsley Shacklebolt tense up behind me, he probably opened his mouth to protest but Harry beat him to it.

"It's alright, I have permission."

"Be careful, Harry," he says this before leaving.

Harry's eyes don't leave mine as he walks towards me and takes me in his arms. I melt in his embrace, my own arms sliding possessively around his neck as I lay my head on his shoulders. He gently turns us around and towards the bed.

Somehow the bed doesn't seem as hard any more, nor does the stone feel so cold. I lay my head on his chest and he strokes my hair, we don't need words, not now. He has encased me protectively in his arms, as if afraid to let go. The final hearing is today, I don't know what the decision would be, actually I have an idea but regardless of the sentence, fear and trepidation are as far from me as Voldemort's corpse is from Harry.

Though I understand there's a lot of darkness in me and I don't know whether I'll get the chance to ever rectify it, but for now I'm content to just lay here, in this damp cell, in the arms of the only person who I ever loved. And who loved me back. No, loves me back.

I think of all this as a story.

Once upon a time. That's how fairytales start right?

Maybe that's just Dementors messing with my head, I don't know, but I would like to think of it as a story. Stories have endings, and if this is one then I have control over it.

Those who can believe that such things are just stories have a better chance and I believe there will be an ending, to the story, and real life will come after it. I can pick up where I left off. With Harry.

A story must always have a listener or a reader otherwise how can it exist? Like that example, if a tree falls when there's no one there, does it make a sound?

I believe there is someone listening to my story, maybe Harry is, in his mind probably as he has fallen asleep now. But maybe it's not Harry, giving my listener a name attaches him or her to the world of fact and after all this is a story right? Just fiction. Fake.

I gently slip out from Harry's embrace. The sheathed dagger had fallen to the floor, unnoticed by us. I pick it up and weigh it in my flawless palm. I take it out from its case, the blade doesn't glint, there's no light for it to but I know it's sharp. I've felt it before.

I press the blade against my open palm, my skin gives way without resistance and the blade plunges deeper, deeper...the rivulets of scarlet blemish my creamy pale skin. I look back at Harry and he's still asleep.

I think my decision is made. I don't want to hurt him, not any more than I already have and I don't want to hurt anymore. I'm at a point in my life where nothing but hurt can come out of any prolonged contact with Harry.

I'm loaning you to the Wizarding World, Harry, just for now.

While my thoughts are running across my mind at the speed of light, the blade is cutting into my skin with equal frenzy. I don't know when I switched the dagger but when I stop and look down, both my hands are nothing but a mess of scars, overlapping each other, some deep, some shallow.

My hands...they're not flawless anymore, not perfect. Not dead. For dead things don't bleed and I have to be real for Harry, for him only. I can't just get up and go, I have to tell him, make him understand but he looks so peaceful. It seems as if he has slept for the first time in years, he looks his age of nineteen and not a man who has had to carry all the burdens of this world.

I look at my hands, the blood's starting to congeal, I will have to write fast. I get up and press the blade against my wrist, using the blood I raise a shaking finger to the stone wall. I don't know if I'll have the courage to do this, I'm not a Gryffindor, but I am a Slytherin, loyal to those I hold dear.

When I'm finished I look down at his sleeping form, I lean towards his face, my lips brushing his, this is not farewell, merely an interval in the story and then we'll pick up again where we left off.

I wish this were a story.

I wish it had worked out exactly the way we had planned.

I Apparate from the small island where Azkaban is situated, it took some effort to break through the wards and I had to make a hasty escape as alarms started ringing through out the bleak, stone fort.

I wonder what Harry's reaction would be to the words, I hope he understands, I know he will.

I couldn't stand to look at them.

A very cryptic message I know but we didn't always need words to convey our meanings. And anyways, I plan on coming back to him, and then I will explain to him properly.

I have to heal the scars on my hand and those on my heart; I don't know how long the healing process will take. Ten days, months, years but they will eventually heal, time does that to you and if some haven't then I'll go back to Harry and he'll work his magic on me.

Maybe then we can go to that beach I dreamed about. Yes, that's how it's going to be. Yes, this is a story, this also happened once upon a time but as you see, dear listener, there is no end. Not yet.

Pansy would be proud of me, she probably would have bawled her eyes out if this was a Muggle movie, though Harry didn't save me from an evil villain who had tied me down to a rail track, he did save me from a lot of other things.

I inhale the fresh air of the park, I don't even know where I've Apparated but it seems happy, I think I have already started healing now.

Wait for me Harry.

I wish...

I moaned as Harry hit that sweet spot of mine, the one that put all my nerves on fire at the same time as it chilled my spine. He grinned down at me, his eyes glowing like two emerald pools without his glasses.

"Is..." he moaned. "Is the hole more ready when you're drunk?" he grunted as he thrust in me again.

"Beats me," I gasped as he grabbed my neglected erection and pressed down on the slit before stroking it vigorously. "Why...yes, there...Gods...are you drunk?"

"No, you are."

I came as he hit my spot again in tempo with his fist pumping my hardness, he followed soon after with a shout of my name. He slid out of me lazily and came to lie beside me.

"The grass is cold." He shivered.

"I'll warm you up," I said as I put my right leg over him and he snuggled into my arms. We stayed there for a while, looking at the stars, wondering about where our destiny would lead us.

Suddenly Harry jerked out of my arms, he looked around and started putting on his clothes. I frowned at him.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said as he put his glasses on. He looked down at me and smiled. "Draco, marry me tonight."

"What?"

He said it with such sincerity I didn't know whether he was joking or not. It was like that time where he got each of us a tattoo or when he took me to some funfair, and I ended up puking my guts out after the first ride. I wondered if he was about to take me to some Church.

He grabbed my hand and pulled me up, he threw my clothes at me and I started to put them on, still confused about Harry's intentions. He tapped his foot impatiently as I finally finished putting on my shirt. He once again grabbed my arm and without another word, started leading me towards the lake.

The water was illuminated by the round pale globe hung in the midnight sky. I looked at Harry as he closed his eyes and inhaled the night air, a smile crept on my face, he looked so adorable.

He opened his eyes and turned to face me, taking both my hands in his.

"Do you want to marry me?"

"Errr...ok?"

"Not like that, Draco," he whined. "The way they properly say it. Like 'I accept' or 'I do'."

"Ok then." I rolled my eyes. "I accept your proposal of marriage." He gave me a beautiful smile before his eyes became soft and he squeezed my hands. I still didn't know what the idiot was on about.

"Beneath the eyes of Mother Earth I make this vow of eternity to you now." My eyes widened as the familiar oath flowed past Harry's lips. I couldn't do anything but look at him in astonishment, so this is why he had been making so many trips to the Restricted Section, no doubt researching the most oldest oath of marriage. Though of course, careful procedures had to be applied and delicate magic was involved but the words itself were only used between true lovers. "My body belongs to the Earth but my soul will belong to you alone. Even when my life comes to an end, my soul will continue to protect you for eternity and into the next world and the world after that. For always, this is the vow I make.

"And my soul will belong to you for an eternity and it will never, never part from you."

He looked at me expectantly and I don't know how or why but I found myself reciprocating the words. When I finished, we stood there facing each other in wonder before Harry gave a nervous laugh and moved towards me to capture my lips.

There was no tongue, no exploration of mouth, just the touch of lip to lip. To bind the oath.

"You are an idiot, you know that." My voice sounded hoarse, as if I hadn't used it for ages, he just looked at me with that big goofy grin of his. "Gryffindors are such romantics, you sap."

Harry laughed and lunged at me, I stumbled and fell to the ground, with Harry on top of me. He was still laughing and I found myself joining him too.

"So," I grinned. "You're the wife right?"

Harry scoffed and got off me. "Please, we both know you're the feminine one out of the two."

I spluttered indignantly. "Feminine, I think not." I lifted my chin arrogantly. "I can prove my manhood to you."

"Oh you've proved to me alright." He grinned suggestively. I rolled my eyes, the boy was a beast at times, and we had sex twice already tonight.

"And anyways, you know how to cook, clean and whatnot. I'll go to work and when I come back home, all tired and exhausted, you my dear wife, will tend to me."

"You make me sound like a Stepford Wife."

"Who?"

"Never mind. So what about the honeymoon?"

"A beach. Definitely, like to the Bahamas or something. We should go there every year for holiday."

"But what about the kids?"

"What kids?" I looked at him in incredulity.

"Well we are going to have kids you know."

"As long as it's not any time soon, I'm only sixteen for goodness' sake and already spoken for." I sighed dramatically. "Those poor girls, heartbroken I'm sure. Now you'll have to live with the guilt for being the cause of the largest suicide numbers in the Wizarding World, not to mention causing all those pretty girls into celibacy."

He pushed me back on the ground and straddled my waist. "Mine," he whispered against my lips. I smiled in return, accepting his tongue in my mouth as I eagerly kissed back. After all his appetite for sex was only matched by my own.

He pulled away when the need for oxygen became vital. He had a dazed look on his face, oh and that goofy smile again. "Mine."

"Hmm...you wish."

Context is all.

...the end, but not of the story...