AN: Written for HD Holidays fest 2009. Lyrics by Ray LaMontagne

Lesson Learned

That you never saw the signs That you never lost your grip

Oh, come on now

That's such a childish claim

Now I wear the brand of traitor

Don't it seem a bit absurd

When it's clear I was so obviously framed

It was the first sound he heard in what he could only assume was a day. The heavy footsteps sounded like barrels of rock pounding against the concrete floor. Though his body screamed with every twitch, he managed to crawl across the muddied floor, his fingers digging into the filth as he sought to find a more secluded place in his small cell. His knees scraped painfully beneath him as he made his way to a dark corner and he resisted the urge to cry out. Finally, he felt the safety of the moist, stone wall and bent his knees to his chest, wrapping his shackled arms around his pale limbs.

The thick metal door to his prison slammed open, and the sound of a sack of flour being thrown against the wall echoed in the underground room. The sounds had been made in the shadows, and he could not see who or what had been tossed into the opposite corner until he heard a muttered 'cruciatus' and a blood-curdling scream. It was a nameless, faceless woman, and the first feminine voice he had heard since the night his mother died in his arms.

"You'll rot in here, you Ministry whore. That should teach the Aurors to mind their business and not to underestimate the power of the Dark Lord's followers!" Runcorn shouted, kicking the woman in the stomach. He heard a sickening grunt and then a very disconcerting silence.

He was all too aware of that silence; he knew all his captors well. Runcorn was regarding his cowering form, figuring out the best way to tear him apart today. It was a new day, after all, and with every new day brought the same pain. Those same heavy steps that had warned him of their arrival earlier were now making their way with excruciating slowness over to the prisoner's cowering form. As much as he tried to hang onto what little courage he had left, the chained young man shook uncontrollably as the large shadow loomed over him.

"I brought you a little friend. Though she's still a tad better than a pureblood traitor and coward like you," Runcorn whispered, so close that his rancid breath steamed over the man's bare neck. "Look at how you shiver and shake, poor little filthy rat, your father would be so proud if he weren't currently hiding like a wounded animal."

A jagged nail ripped across his bare back, and the young man bit back a yelp of pain. "Of course, I'm sure your mother would be more than happy to know that her son survived so long after her. She would probably have loved to watch as we all fucked your sweet young arse over and over until you bled. It would have made her day to hear you screaming and crying, to hear you begging for mercy," Runcorn was speaking louder, more roughly now, and a faint whimper from the other side of the cell registered with him for a moment before a small ounce of adrenaline fueled his body forward.

"You will never speak of my mother!" the prisoner shouted, lunging forward at his tormentor. Runcorn waived his wand, and the prisoner felt his shackles tighten and press him painfully into the wall.

"I'll do whatever I want. I did whatever I wanted to her, I'll do whatever I want to do to you, and all you can do is beg me not to kill you," Runcorn sneered. "Well go on, beg," He commanded.

"I'd rather be dead," the young man said. He meant it completely. He had lost all will to hold on. In the beginning, he had his mother to live for. After she died, he had the hope and value of his own life to hang on to. However, in the darkness of what felt like an eternity, he felt even his life had lost all meaning. He had nothing left, nothing to give, and his body was barely hanging on. Soon it would all crumble underneath him and he would float away into the nothingness of death. The anticipation just made all the pain worse.

"You're too valuable to kill," Runcorn said. "We've been keeping you around as a special little toy, but it's time we got rid of you. However, instead of letting you die, instead of giving you that relief, we've got some gentlemen interesting in owning a few slaves of their own. With all the abuse you've taken, you're worth too much just to kill. And your name alone fetches a handsome price. Everyone wants a chance to exact their revenge for your mother's betrayal and your father's cowardice."

The chained man couldn't even muster enough anger to defend his mother at this horrifying thought. It would never end. He would be passed off, to a new hell, a new dungeon, and a fresh new batch of hatred. His body fell limp as he gave up on even trying to look defiant under his torturer's dark gaze.

"Ahhh, now there's a pliant little animal," Runcorn whispered, reaching to the waistband of the prisoner's ragged trousers and ripping them off. The young man flinched and stiffened slightly, readying his body.

"It's our last day with our favorite toy, we need to make it special," he said loudly. At that vocal cue, the door swung open again, and the rest of his captors filed in, varying looks of sickening joy on their faces. The prisoner shook in terror as Fenrir Greyback came in last, snarling heavily as he closed the door to his cell.

Despite his best efforts to go numb, to close himself off from what was about to happen, the young man couldn't help but begin to shake again, whimpering. "Please, just leave me be. Just let me die. I can't take any more. You've made your point. I'm destroyed, my family is destroyed, what else can you take from me?" He sobbed, sinking to the ground, his head resting against his chained wrists.

As the men all laughed at him, he heard a scuffle in the background. The woman in his cell screamed again as her clothes were ripped off.

"Well, she's definitely fit, we should fetch a good price for her!" Yaxley leered, running his hands over her bare flesh as she shook and cried. "What's your name, pretty little Auror?"

"None of your fucking business!" She spat in his face. Yaxley slapped her and ripped open her legs. The young man was momentarily forgotten as the Deatheaters all crowded around to witness the newest piece of their collection being broken in.

There was another loud shriek and Yaxley gasped. "Bloody hell. She's a fucking virgin! No one touch her, we can double her price!" The men all groaned.

"Don't worry, there's a consolation prize," Greyback growled, stalking back over to the other corner.

"I think she should watch, show the rich snot a little humility," an unrecognizable Deatheater said, his high-pitched voice squealing menacingly against the stone walls.

"All the better," Runcorn groaned, clutching the young man's hair and pulling him upward. Yaxley proceeded to drag the woman into the light.

He had never seen this woman before, but the look of recognition in her eyes as they tied her naked form to a conjured chair showed that she definitely knew him. He was immediately filled with shame, and then a defeated shock that apparently he did have some dignity left in him, which was about to be taken away as well.

As it was his house, they let Greyback have the first go. The captive steeled himself for a bit, for the ripping of flesh, but it didn't come immediately. He could smell the cold, metallic scent of blood on the beastly man's breath as he circled the young man like prey. Greyback's long, sharp, bony claws of hands began to run over the prisoner's pale, gaunt form. Fingers weaved in and out of his hair, up his legs and down his back. When a sharp claw ran slowly down the young man's crevice, he couldn't help but let out a small cry.

"Now, remember Fenrir, no eating! We need the money this one will fetch us," Runcorn said, a laugh in his voice.

"A shame too, because he smells so delicious," Greyback said. He took his other hand, and used a nail to cut a huge slice of flesh on the prisoner's shoulder, at the same time pressing a dry, pointed finger past his tight ring of muscle. This time the chained man wailed in pain.

"Oh I love it when they cry out, makes the meat even more tender," Greyback growled, running his tongue over the newly opened wound. Runcorn made a grunt of disapproval that the captive could hear even through his cries. "Oh, shut up! There's no way to turn him with my tongue," he said languidly, letting his tongue run all the way down to meet his hand at the curve of the young man's arse.

Suddenly, something hard hit the young man's head and he fell back to his knees, the bones seeming to crack against the impact on the pavement. His throbbing shoulder began to burn as Greyback's grimy hand gripped around the wound and pushed his forehead to the ground. There was a chorus of derisive laughter as a spell was cast to spread his legs open wider and chain them to the floor.

Greyback pressed into him viciously and the prisoner felt the familiar burning of a painful and merciless assault. The men around them hooted and jeered as each movement seemed to tear him open farther. Greyback gripped his hair tightly, lifting his head to meet eyes with the frightened looking woman in front of him. She had tears in her eyes; he could see that even as they blurred his vision as well. She was looking at him with a pity that destroyed him from the inside. After all of the pain and suffering he was forced to endure, that small, tender gesture gave him a spark of hope.

He couldn't handle anymore hope, anymore wishing for freedom, anymore semblance of dignity. It was beaten and fucked out of him every day, and to gain it back and lose it again was the ultimate pain. He closed his eyes, unable to turn his head as Greyback finished and Runcorn stepped up to them.

After casting a cleansing spell, Runcorn kicked the prisoner in the ribs, knocking him against the wall and pulling impossibly at his shackles. This was always the dark-haired Deatheater's way: beat him to near death and then heal him just enough to fuck him painfully. The captive young man didn't think he would be able to come back from one more session like this. The next kick was delivered to his mouth, followed by a swift bevy of punches to his abdomen. If he'd had any food in him, he would have certainly vomited. One more blow to the head and everything went mercifully black.

Of course, he awoke as quickly as he fell, Runcorn healing his head injury, but not his jaw, his ribs, or the broken wrist he had just obtained. Before he was bent over again, Runcorn took his blade and cut deeply through the muscle of the prisoner's bony thigh. He screamed in agony, his body growing limp as dizziness made him fall to the floor.

When his head was pulled up again, he met the green eyes of the woman in front of him. Disgusted with her kind and piteous gaze, he closed his eyes again and waited for the familiar and painful tearing.

"Damnit, Draco Malfoy, look at me!" She shouted, rousing him. He could hear the men around them cheering with delight, obviously assuming she was enjoying his torture as much as they. He knew better, he could see it in her eyes. He looked dead at her, and just as Runcorn's rough hands closed around Draco's hips, his eyes fell heavy and he needed to close them again.

This time, there was no blackness, but a bright, blinding light. Draco found himself surrounded by a white light, and assumed he had finally and wonderfully died. However, a voice broke through him, and Draco's eyes adjusted to find the woman from the cell continuing to gaze directly at him. He focused on her hypnotic glassy green eyes and he instantly felt warm and painless, floating in this stark white universe.

"Just focus on my voice, keep listening to me and I can keep you here," Her voice was no longer feminine and melodic, but deep and masculine. The black hair he had thought was long was disappearing into a short and messy crop. "Keep listening, just linger here, just stay with me Malfoy."

Just as Draco was beginning to wonder where the beautiful features of the woman he was seeing were going, and why she was calling him by his last name, he felt a sharp pain in his side and everything went dark again.

"Bloody fucking hell! Eighty Thousand Galleons!" Came a vaguely familiar voice from somewhere in the darkness. Draco opened his eyes to find himself blindfolded and gagged, being carried against someone very tall. He assumed this was his purchaser, and his body began to convulse.

"Hey! Hold still, I can't carry you if you're moving around like this," the man said, moving the blindfold lower. The man's face hovered above him, dirty brown eyes matching a mop matted brown curly hair perfectly. His teeth were a dark yellow and his face was pock marked and covered in scars. Despite all this, he seemed to smell like food, like a Hogwart's Christmas Feast. Draco was disturbed by the dichotomy and still quivering in fear of the thought of another cage, another unending and painful stretch of time.

"Please, just kill me. I just want to die. Don't hurt me, I can't take anymore. I'll let you do whatever you want tonight if you just kill me afterward. I just want to die. I need to die…" Draco sobbed, the pain in his side worsening as his stomach clenched and unclenched.

"Blimey…bug…fuckin…dear Merlin," the man carrying him started, his voice shaking and his words dying in his throat. "No one's going to kill you," he answered his wide eyes unblinking in what appeared to be horror. "Can I end this?" He yelled somewhere to his right.

"Just a few more yards and we'll be in the wards," an answering voice called back.

"No more…I'll beg…I'll do whatever you want. I just can't go on," Draco still sobbed, fearful of what awaited him on the other side of the wards.

"It'll be okay," His new captor said with a surprising gentleness. The man clutched him a little closer, and Draco was instantly comforted and in the same breath very disturbed. What was going on?

Draco felt the ripple of magic as he entered the warded area, but the cloak he was wrapped in and the crooked blindfold on his head kept him from seeing much more than the night sky and the underside of his captor's face. He was set down on the ground, and for a moment, he was momentarily hypnotized by the cool fresh smell of the grass beneath his body. He stretched his uninjured arm out, pressing his palm on the subtly spiky tines of the grass. He took a deep breath, but the pain in his side ripped through him and he cried out.

"Oh shite, just a second!" The brown haired man said. He got out his wand, looked to his right, nodded, and then cast a nonverbal charm.

Draco was frozen with pain, but managed to turn his neck enough to watch what the tall man was doing. Before his eyes, the matted, dirty features of the old beast that was carrying him faded away. Bright orange hair shone out even in the darkness, and smooth pale skin revealed itself under the slightly tattered clothing. The pock marked face was transformed into long, thin features with a strong jaw and prominent nose.

"Weasley?" Draco groaned with effort, even as the pain continued to pulse through him. Ron looked down at him and nodded, a determined look on his face. He kneeled next to him and brandished his wand. Draco instinctively tried to throw his arms over his head and cried out.

"No no no," Ron whispered, almost sounding scared. He took Draco's hands and brought them back down to his sides. "No, it's okay."

Draco wasn't sure if it was okay, but Ron had the wand and Draco was powerless anyway. Morbid curiosity kept him from giving up and going numb. He just didn't know if he was about to die or not. An involuntary spasm ran through him, as the pain in his side seemed to increase. He reached to the painful spot and could feel the warm oozing of blood coming from his body.

"Move your hand, I need to at least stop the bleeding if I can't heal it," Ron said quietly.

"There's too much blood…bloody Christ…Kurt!" Ron said, calling out somewhere behind him.

"Yes sir," said a disembodied voice above Draco.

"We need to stop this bleeding before we get to St. Mungo's…"

"No!" Draco shouted out, a fresh pain ripping through him. "I can't…they'll come…no more…" He couldn't seem to form words despite the fact that the image was clear in his head. He would be hunted down, and he knew it. There were too many Deatheaters out there bent on revenge against his family for him to be safe in the wide open of St. Mungo's. They would put him back in a cell. They would torture him again. He couldn't take it.

"No one is going to come after, we'll make sure," Ron said, moving out of the way so that Kurt could heal him. The large man towered above him, dark eyes blazing as he brandished his wand. Draco could only see his captors in that long dark robe and those glassy black eyes, and before logic could calm him down, he was covering his head again and screaming.

"Malfoy!" Ron yelled, trying to pull Draco's hands away and straighten his body back out, but he was frozen with fear. "Malfoy…Dr…Draco," Ron said in a very soft voice.

Draco could feel some of the tension and fear leaving him. For some reason, though his whole body was primed for another attack, he couldn't register a fear for Ron, and he turned to meet the other's eyes.

"We're going to help you. No one is here to hurt you. Now please, you've lost a lot of blood and you could go into shock if we don't get this wound sealed. I can't do it, but I can personally promise you that Kurt will not hurt you in any way," Ron said with a gentleness that came as a surprise to what Draco remembered of him. Draco straightened back out and tried to relax, though the pain was flooding back to him.

"I'm going to check on Harry," Ron said, leaving Draco to watch as Kurt waved his wand intricately over his body. The burning, stinging, and throbbing all seemed to dull, but the pain in his side was still evident enough for him to fear moving too much. Draco turned his head, finally lucid enough to take in his surroundings.

He was lying in on a vast lawn, the grass seeming to roll on endlessly in all directions, the far reaches of it shadowed in the moonlight while the blades of grass immediately in front of his face glittered with a wand lit dew. He let his cheeks rest against the grass and sighed at the cool moisture that gathered there. When his eyes unclouded, he could see Ron leaning over someone's sitting form, casting spells against the man's face.

When Ron leaned back and smiled slightly, brushing his hands together like he had just finished a task, the other auror turned and met Draco's eyes. He gasped audibly at the deep green eyes staring back at him. The woman in the cell was actually this auror. The woman who seemed to take him into some secret place inside of his head during the worst of his latest torture was a man. The keeper of those hypnotic green eyes was Harry Potter.

Draco's eyes began to fog again.

Now you act so surprised

To hear what you already know

And all you really had to do was ask

I'd have told you straight away

All those lies were truth

And all that was false was fact

There was an unbearable chill running over Draco's bare limbs, and his entire body shuddered at its onset. After the chill had woken him, his eyes attempted to adjust to the darkness. The blackness of the room was overwhelming, and Draco could feel his heart hammering in his chest. It had all been some sort of dream, and now here he was, back in his prison to face more pain and more hopelessness. He could hear heavy footfalls approaching the room, and he struggled to move into a safe corner.

The floor would not give him balance, and his knees couldn't gain a good hold on the soft ground. When Draco lifted his arms to attempt to move more quickly, he found himself tied down. As the sounds of footsteps came quicker and closer, Draco began to thrash in a panic. A pain in his pounding chest and the quivering of his entire body accentuated the cold sweat forming on his forehead. No matter how hard he pulled, he couldn't get out. Draco let out a despairing scream as the door swung open.

"Draco! Draco!" through his screams Draco could hear someone calling out his name; he felt hands gripping his shoulders firmly. He had to try to get away.

"You need to stop! It's okay! Look at me Draco Malfoy!" At that demand, Draco did open his eyes and met familiar deep green ones.

Instantly, he was in the white world again, where there was nothing but him and the owner of the hypnotic eyes. This time, however, Harry Potter stood before him instead of a nameless beautiful woman. He tried to speak, tried to ask what was going on, but he couldn't seem to move his lips. Harry continued to stare at him intently, his face unreadable, as Draco regained his composure slowly. He took a deep breath, and was back inside himself again feeling very far from that blank and whitewashed world.

"Potter…what?" Draco started, his voice catching painfully in his throat.

"You're at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, the House of Black if you want to get all snooty about it," Harry answered calmly, still holding onto Draco's shoulders despite his grip lessening.

"Isn't this your house?" Draco asked in a whisper, still completely disoriented.

"Yeah, I've not fixed up more than the master bedroom and the most used areas, but I'll get there," Harry sighed.

"I don't care about your home improvement plans, Potter, what the hell is going on?" Draco said, slightly annoyed that he was so thoroughly confused, still slightly afraid, and Potter seemed to be postulating new drywall rather than explain to him sufficiently. Harry lifted an eyebrow to him and poorly hid a smile.

"We brought you here after we took you to get fixed up at St. Mungo's. You've been asleep for nearly two days. Your arms are strapped to keep you from hurting yourself when you woke. Seems to have worked," Harry said matter-of-factly."

"If you want a medal for getting me out of there, go ask someone else. I was in there for…wait…what day is it?" Draco said, hostility gone as he realized he had no idea how long he had spent in that decrepit dungeon.

"It's May 4th," Harry said, seeming a little hesitant.

Draco's heart seemed to stop at this, and he had to sit back down on the bed. New Year's eve, they had been taken on New Year's eve. Draco had spent four months in that hell. He could still remember the ambush at their secret Paris bungalow, his mother screaming for him to run. He stayed to protect her, and they both paid for it with their freedom. A small army of Deatheaters had cornered them in the study, hitting Draco hard on the head until he blacked out and woke up chained to a moist, stone wall.

"Four months…no one came to find me…no one came…" Draco said, his body seeming to shrink with every word.

"We knew you guys were missing of course, but we thought it was by choice," Harry explained.

"Of course you knew, you were probably scouring the countryside for us, just waiting to take us in and pin some sort of charge or another on us," Draco spat bitterly, the painful image of his mother gazing longingly out of the window of their Paris home seared on his mind.

"Not you and Narcissa…all charges were dropped in absentia," Harry said, looking at his feet.

"Oh joy, the Boy Who Lived gets another medal for being noble, meanwhile my mother is lying dead somewhere and my father has disappeared," Draco spat, the bitterness and anger he usually carried in his chest warming him and comforting him in it's familiarity.

"Narcissa's dead?" Harry said, regret obvious in his voice.

"You saw what they did to me…" Draco said, trying not to remember the way his mother felt in his arms as the life slipped through her.

Harry sat down on the high backed chair in the corner, head in his hands.

"We weren't even looking for you. We got a report of some possible dealing in dark artifacts, and started to investigate. We had finally found the headquarters, didn't even know it was Greyback's home, and I got caught. It was supposed to be a simple distract and grab. I would discreetly plant Portkey openers and we'd get in. That's why Ron was with me, he was testing out the new Wheezes product… and I did a really intense glamour charm when I heard them coming." Harry explained robotically before his face seemed to contort in some mix of rage and pain. "I didn't know you were…I didn't know they were…." Harry finished, head still in his hands.

The question in his mind about what in the hell Portkey Openers were died as shame began to boil in his stomach. Harry saw. He saw everything. He saw Draco used over and over again, heard Draco sob, heard Draco beg. Harry was there and he knew just what Draco had been through in the past four months. Draco was immediately disgusted with himself, overcome with a self-loathing that made him want to vomit.

"Of course you didn't know, you always were clueless. Just expect everything to go as planned, don't you? Everything is just supposed to fall in your fucking lap isn't it?" Draco shouted. Harry stood frozen on the spot like a deer in headlights, unable to even defend himself.

"Now are you going to untie me so that I can leave or do I have to chew my arms off?" Draco asked angrily. Harry seemed to snap out of his momentary trance.

"You can't leave," Harry said, his voice catching in his throat.

"Do you mean to keep me prisoner too? Am I being punished for being mean to you in school?" The sharp edge was still in Draco's voice, but there was a genuine fear in his chest at the possible truth of those words.

"I'm nothing like them…I'm not…" Harry started to angrily defend himself, but then shook it off. He took a deep breath, his eyes shut tight. When he opened them, his green eyes seemed to glow and the lines in his face had smoothed. "We didn't get them all, they are still out there and we're almost positive you're the first thing on their agenda."

"Leave it to Aurors to be half assed," Draco said, though his voice had taken on an oddly soft tone. "Well can I at least be untied?"

"Oh yeah…right," Harry said. He reached for his wand and Draco felt himself flinch involuntarily. Harry froze for a moment, pocketed his wand, and began to undo the bonds by hand. His rough fingertips ran along the soft skin on the underside of Draco's arm and he sighed. It had been so long since he had felt any human touch that wasn't dripping with malice, and his body craved it far more than he realized. If Harry had heard the sigh, however, he made no indication, he just let his right hand linger wrapped around Draco's wrist for a few short moments. Draco almost sighed again when Harry's thumb quickly brushed along the protruding bones.

"Um…yeah…your wrist seems healed up well," Harry said, startled. He jumped back and pulled two glass vials from his pocket. "The healer said you need rest, you had a nasty wound on your side, so here's a bit of Dreamless Sleep and some pain potion just in case," He said. He deposited them on the nightstand. "There's a loo just next door with everything you could need." He finished. Harry suddenly turned around and left, leaving Draco in such a silence that his ears rang.

Now you hold me close and hard

But I was like a statue at most

Refusing to acknowledge you'd been hurt

Now you're clawing at my throat

And you're crying all is lost

But your tears they felt so hot upon my shirt

Draco sat at the old table in the basement kitchen and resisted the urge to rip out his own hair. He had spent two weeks in this house with only the company of that old House Elf. Harry had come in to check on him, and had brought a few friends over for dinner twice, but had actively avoided any conversation with Draco despite living under the same roof. He assumed it was guilt of some sort, or cold indifference that kept Harry away. Draco didn't care in the slightest.

"Is that so? Then why do you dream about his eyes every night? Why is his name on your lips when you wake from what is supposed to be Dreamless sleep?" Draco's mind seemed to echo back at him.

"Are we honestly having eggs again," Draco complained, trying to shut up his own thoughts. For some reason, Harry was there, making eggs, bacon and toast for breakfast.

"I can't make anything else," Harry snapped.

"Well where's that elf?" Draco said haughtily.

"His name is Kreacher and I've given him the day off," Harry answered.

"I can be of service, Sir," came a froglike voice from behind a door.

"No! If you won't let me pay you, the least you can do is let me treat you fairly. Hermione will have my arse if you don't have all the rights of the gainfully employed!" Harry shouted at the door.

"That mudblood is bloody insane," Draco mumbled, looking at the plate of burnt bacon in the center of the table.

Suddenly the frying pan slammed down and Harry growled in frustration. "Don't fucking use that fucking word!" He shouted, stomping quickly toward Draco on the slatted wood floor. Suddenly, all Draco could see what a dark, hooded figure coming toward him. His vision blurred and his nose was filled with the dank, dirty smell of a dungeon. His heart began to race, his fingers digging into his palms, and his breathing labored. Just as everything began to go black, he felt his head shoved down between his knees.

"I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…" Harry murmured, rubbing Draco's back in soothing circles as the panic subsided. Draco spent some time bent over, gathering himself, and became immediately ashamed of looking so weak in front of Harry. He had made a point to appear the epitome of strength lest Harry be reminded of what he saw in those dungeons.

"I don't need your pity, I'm fine," Draco sneered. He got up quickly, marched to his room, and slammed the door. When he was safely ensconced in the warm, wooden room, he downed the last of his dreamless sleep potion. The amount wasn't enough to last him all night, but at least he could hide away in the emptiness for a while.

He could hear her screaming from his cell, and he rushed to the barred window on the door…futile as anything may be. He pressed his face up against the cold steel banging hard against the thick wooden slats with both hands.

"Why don't you pick on someone who can take you! Come here and fight like a man!" Draco yelled, trying anything to get them away from his mother. He began to kick at his own door mercilessly, trying to make enough racket to distract his mother's tormentors, and himself.

"Please, please have mercy!" Narcissa begged before another screech sounded through the stone halls.

"You betrayed Our Lord! We heard Potter's testimony. Did you think you could hide forever?" Yaxley asked before casting another cruciatus curse.

"Fuck you, cowards! It's a weak man who must beat on a woman!" Draco yelled, losing all hope of getting them away from her.

Suddenly, he heard the familiar footsteps, but his mother's screaming didn't cease.

"You just don't learn, do you?" Runcorn growled, he slammed open Draco's cell door, knocking him back to the floor in the process. It had been four days since they were captured, but Draco was running on pure adrenaline, and he was ready to fight.

"Apparently not, you sick bastard," Draco spat, lunging at the much larger man. Draco managed to get his long fingers around the man's remarkably thick neck before the flick of a wand sent him flying against the wall, slamming his head hard on the stones.

When the stars cleared from his eyes and he was able to reorient himself, Draco found that he was strapped to a table, lying flat on his back with chains painfully cutting across his torso, wrists and ankles. The bone-chilling draft told Draco his clothes had been removed as well.

"A sick bastard, am I? You don't even know what sick is…yet," He laughed as he brandished a whip from his wand, lashing it across Draco's chest and abdomen over and over again. He tried hard not to scream as he felt his flesh rip over and over.

"I know you can yell! I just heard you all the way down the hall! Now cry out!" Runcorn shouted, a swipe of the whip hitting dangerously close to his groin. This time, Draco couldn't help but cry out.

"Mmmmm, that's better," Runcorn said, a disturbing smile on his face, made worse by the fact that he seemed to have closed his eyes and began to lick his lips.

A flick of Runcorn's wand sealed his wounds, but did nothing for the burning pain. He circled the stone slab Draco was chained to slowly, as if surveying merchandise. Draco jumped, his skin crawling as Runcorn began to run his hands up and down Draco's naked body. He whimpered, not able to hold in the fear of what was implied in Runcorn's actions.

"Oh that's right. I'm going to tear that sweet, pink arse apart. The only thing that could make it better than hearing you scream like a stuck pig is having Lucius here to watch as I destroy his pompous little son," Runcorn laughed, and with a flick of his wand, Draco's legs were lifted and spread wide apart.

"No! No! Please! I'll do anything! No!" Draco was crying and yelling as loud as he could, although deep in his mind he knew it was useless.

"Draco!"

"Draco!"

"Draco! You need to wake up…"

Draco's fists were clenched, slamming against something hard, but without as much impact as any stone in his cell. He was still crying out, still shaking, but he felt the distinct absence of the sick chill that constantly ghosted over his skin in his prison. He opened his eyes not to be met with the rough, towering form of Runcorn hovering over him with malice, but to Potter kneeling in front of him on a bed. His deep green eyes were piercing into Draco's, a look of unwavering concern on his face. Draco turned his head away, unable to meet those eyes for the shame of all they had witnessed.

Potter loosened his grip on Draco's shoulders and began to run his thumbs up and down his long arms. Draco's shaking slowly subsided, replaced with the sick feeling of worthlessness and hopelessness. He needed to get Potter out of there before he lost it again.

"Just ran out of Dreamless sleep potion. Do you have any I can use?" Draco asked, still not meeting his eyes.

"I stopped needing that about six months after the end of the war. That white space I took you to when I…when they…well that's where I go to escape the nightmares. It's a form of occlumency, only I'm blocking things from myself," Potter explained, so close to Draco's face that he could feel the warmth of the other man's breath. Draco had to fight the urge to lean into him.

"Oh…" Draco said. There was an awkward silence, but Draco kept his eyes firmly downward. He wished he could learn to hide from all the horror that attacked him every time he closed his eyes.

"I can show you how," Harry said, pity being exchanged with excitement in his voice.

"I don't think I'm strong enough yet," Draco whispered, looking over to the window to prevent meeting Harry's eyes.

Draco started when he felt Harry's fingertips rest underneath his chin. He let Harry guide his head forward and stared unblinkingly into Harry's shocking eyes. He closed his eyes and leaned into the palm of Harry's hand when it moved up to his cheek.

"It's okay, take your time," Harry croaked, and Draco swallowed the lump that was growing in his own throat. Before he could register what he was doing Draco leaned forward resting his head on Harry's shoulder and burying his nose in the other man's neck. Harry's entire body was stiff for a moment, but soon became pliant and Draco sighed when Harry's arms wrapped around his back.

He still wasn't sure what compelled him to do it, but he craved a friendly touch from anyone so badly that to have Harry's hands laying on him gently made Draco feel almost whole again. A nagging voice in the back of his head told him that he could have waited and found anyone else to do this for him, but for some reason that Draco was fearful to recognize, he needed to feel Harry against him. Draco sighed, a small sob escaping his throat, and fisted his hands in Harry's shirt for fear he would fall back into the darkness.

The next morning Draco woke to find not only his bed but also the entire house empty. Throughout the next week Draco heard Harry present in the house, but never saw him.

Embarrassed and bitter, Draco realized he was being avoided. It wasn't like he was trying to be seen anyways. Draco had woken up the morning after his nightmare hating himself for looking so weak in front of Potter of all people. He really only spent time in the study to read from the Black's vast collection, the kitchen when he finally couldn't starve any longer, and the bedroom he had been housed in.

"Then why is it that you listen for him to come home every night?" That awful voice inside of his head rang.

Draco shook his head slightly and decided to take a long, hot shower to clear his head. He hadn't heeded his appearance in so long; fearful of what he would see in the mirror or when he looked down, so his showers had been quick and cold affairs. Now, however, the horror of seeing what had happened to his body would be a welcome distraction from the horror that was tumbling through his head, interrupted by the memory of Harry's skin against his face.

He set the water just below searing and eased himself under the punishing spray. After a few moments of sting, the water had become luxurious and Draco could feel the unseen metaphorical filth disappear just slightly now that he had decided to take his time. He had actively avoided the mirror while preparing to wash, but looking down, he could see the pronounced scars stretching across his abdomen, the faded bruises dotting the places where his bones jutted out, and the general skeletal look of his once lithe form. He ran a soapy hand over the raised bumps on his chest and imagined what he must appear to a lover now: Used, abused, forgotten, some mousy pathetic creature to be pitied. Draco's fist hit the wall.

Unbidden, the image of Harry kissing his way down Draco's torso flooded his mind, manifesting a delicious illusion under the hot spray of the water. Draco heard himself moan, wanting the feeling of a lover so badly that it hurt. After a pain so intense and so soul crushing encompassed his life for four months, Draco felt almost a hunger for affection. His hand floated down to his own stiff cock, the first time he had touched it since before he was taken, and nearly sobbed at how good it felt to experience pleasure again…regardless of how fleeting or lonely it was.

Harry's image still danced in his head as he began to slowly stroke the hot, smooth flesh of his member. Draco knew he was gay, that hadn't been a shock since he had seen Zabini in the showers at Hogwart's and felt an instant bolt of electricity. Seeing Harry was a surprise and not a welcomed one as far as he was concerned. It was Harry's fault; all of it, in some way it was his entire fault.

In the back of his head, Draco knew Harry couldn't help it. He didn't start the war, he didn't ask for it, but if he hadn't have existed, Draco's whole life wouldn't be falling in tatters around him. If it hadn't been for Harry Potter, Draco's mother wouldn't have been branded a traitor by the bitter remnants of The Dark Lord's army. If not for her desire to save Harry's life, she would be alive right now. His misery was closely wrapped with the life of Harry Potter, and yet Draco felt an ache for him like nothing he had ever felt before. Something in Harry's eyes called Draco out of the darkest areas of his mind, and left Draco with a notion of hope that he hadn't felt since his sixth year.

As Draco imagined Harry's lips on his own, and Harry's hands wrapped around his cock, he came hard, whispering Harry's name as he did so. The always-unwelcome tears that came so often to Draco's eyes were threatening to come back, so Draco turned off the water. Resolved to shave and comb his hair carefully, Draco managed to get Harry out of his head.

Draco wrapped the fluffy white towel around waist and prepared for the small walk from the bathroom back to his room. Opening the door and flinching at the rush of cold air, Draco didn't notice Harry immediately. However, when he stopped at his room, he saw the dark shadow beside him. He turned his head slowly and regarded Harry for a fleeting moment. He stood tall, though still shorter than Draco, but with a fine cut body evident despite the shapeless black of his auror robes. Draco curled his fingers into a fist to avoid touching him, his shower's fantasy still too real in his mind.

"Potter," Draco murmured, opening his bedroom door.

"Mal…Draco. We um…we found your mother's body," Harry said, looking at his feet. "We can prepare a small service for her wherever you would like to have her buried, and we'll do a protective detail so that you can go."

"Oh how very kind of you to allow me to go to my dead mother's funeral," Draco sneered, though all the warmth of the shower had drained from him and he could barely muster up the strength to feign hatred.

"We are trying as hard as we can to get Runcorn! He's the only one left! We got the rest of them," Harry yelled, his own fists clenching.

"And how hard did you try to protect my mother after what she did for you! You should have known she'd be hunted after you told the fucking world her part in your great victory," Draco spat, his face only inches from Harry's.

"You don't think I tried to? We looked everywhere for you and your mother, we knew that Deatheaters would likely come after her, but you two decided to take things into your own hands," Harry said in accusation.

"She's dead because of you!" Draco yelled, pushing Harry violently into the wall.

"She's dead because of Voldemort!" Harry shouted back, punching Draco squarely in the jaw.

The pain barely registered through the shock of hearing The Dark Lord's name spoken aloud.

"Don't say his name!" Draco yelled, his fist connecting with Harry's hard stomach.

"What? Am I sullying the good name of your Lord?" Harry said through gritted teeth.

Draco let out a feral growl and lunged at Harry, hands going for his neck. Harry was much quicker, however, and ducked under Draco's outstretched arms. By the time Draco turned around to follow Harry, his back was being slammed against the wall. Harry's forearm pressed painfully against his windpipe, and for a moment, Draco gagged. Then, however, something snapped in Harry's eyes and warmth echoed through them that left Draco momentarily hypnotized.

Draco could feel the pressure of Harry's forearm on his windpipe, but it wasn't tight enough for him to struggle for breath. The position he was in has caused immediate panic, and Draco could feel a burning pain in his chest as his heart began to race faster and faster. Draco knew Harry was going to hurt him,him; he was going to beat him mercilessly until Draco finally succumbed and blacked out. That's the only way Draco could see an end to this. He closed his eyes and waited for the blow, for the pure hatred to punish him again.

Suddenly, Harry's arm went slack and Draco felt his body sag against the wall.

"I'm just as bad as them…I'm so sorry, Draco," Harry whispered, his body still pressed against Draco's.

"Just don't hurt me, please," he shook, his head still turned.

"Bloody fuck. I'm not going to hurt you. You're safe here," Harry murmured, his lips almost touching Draco's jaw when he spoke. "I should have looked harder for you and your mom. After all she did, I shouldn't have just assumed…" Harry's head fell on Draco's shoulder.

Warmth spread over his body at the close contact, and Draco took great comfort in the closeness of another person. He knew deep down it wasn't Harry's fault. But that didn't stop Draco from the bitter resentment that ate at him when he wasn't mid panic at reliving his experience. He questioned fate, and again lamented Harry's existence even as his body was still spreading warmth into Draco's. Draco opened his eyes and took in the hand that was resting on his shoulder; thumb currently caressing him in absent-minded circles. There were scars all over Harry's arms, burn wounds from spells by the looks of things, and the faint outline of words on the top of his hand cut through with one large, angry pink piece of scar tissue. The anger began to ebb as Draco found Harry had sacrificed just as much, lost just as much due almost entirely to circumstance.

"You can't fix everything, you know. You're not that great," Draco said in answer to Harry's repeated apologies. "In fact, I'd say mediocre." He was hoping to jab Harry back into their old banter, to bring a sense of normalcy to what was becoming an awkward situation. He wanted desperately to rush back to his room and put a shirt on, to hide the grotesque look of his battered body.

Harry's eyes met Draco's, and the corners of his mouth turned up slightly. Draco felt an urge well up inside of him to press his lips to that smirk, but he tamped it down as quickly as it came. Harry wasn't gay, the Weaselette was evidence of that, and furthermore…it was Potter of all people! However, when Draco snapped out of his sudden desire, he saw Harry staring in a very similar way at his own mouth. A shock went through his body when Harry's hips moved slightly and a hardness pressed into his groin.

"Oh god," Harry said, his entire body tensing.

Draco looked at Harry and bit his lip, to which Harry responded with a low groan in his throat, grabbed the back of Draco's neck, and kissed him hard. Draco didn't even register what he was doing before his tongue was plunging into Harry's warm mouth. He let out a moan in the back of his throat, forgetting how amazing it felt to kiss someone like this. The fact that it was Harry Potter kissing him back made him feel a rush of electricity to every extreme in his body. He was scared, excited, and even a little angry at the same time. Harry's hands moved to the wall on both side of Draco's head, and when his hips thrust against Draco's, they both let out a groan of pleasure.

Draco met Harry's hips with every thrust, his hands clinging to Harry's lithe back like he would drown if he let go. One of Harry's hands began to run over Draco's chest and arms, and eventually a warm hand connected with Draco's bare chest. Draco thought his knees would give out. To feel such a touch, after months of torture, was like water cooling away a burning ache. Draco was shamed when a whimper escaped his lips. He put his hands up the back of Harry's shirt to distract from the pitiful and greedy sounds he was making, and Harry broke the kiss to breathe in deeply and rest his nose against Draco's neck.

Draco's hand toyed with the back of Harry's trousers, dipping in and out of his waist band. Harry was moving more quickly against him now, his own moans making Draco ache with need. Harry tentatively ran his fingers along the top of the towel, and Draco tried to press his hips up to meet Harry's touch. But Harry remained frozen, lips lazily dancing along Draco's jaw.

"Please," Draco whimpered. Harry met Draco's lips again hard, breathing in deeply as he did so and slowly moving his hand downward. When his hand finally gripped Draco, and the cool rush of air indicated that the towel was now completely gone, it was all he could do to not cry out. So often he was forced into arousal, only to be mocked as he was brutally violated. Runcorn would mutter about how much Draco wanted it as Draco lay there limply, taking the abuse. Now, someone was touching Draco out of want, and with a tenderness that starkly contrasted anything Draco thought his life would be doomed to in those dark months. He dug his nails into Harry's back, so fearful that the entire feeling would disappear.

Harry had been quiet; the only sounds were the subtle movements of clothing against flesh and heavy breathing filling the empty hallway. Draco knew he wouldn't last longer and wanted to touch Harry, to be sure that what he was feeling was real and not a concussed dream. He undid Harry's jeans and slid his hands quickly into his pants, searching out the hard heat.

"Mmmm" Harry grunted, thrusting into Draco's hand. He wasn't as long as some Draco had encountered, but Harry had a girth that fell heavy on his hand. The power and strength that rippled through them made Draco want to go weak, but the combined force also kept the two bodies inert with pleasure and anticipation.

Draco reached down and wrapped his hand around Harry's in desperation. He guided them so that their hands met over their thrusting members. The heat and caused them both to moan simultaneously, and Harry again buried his head against Draco's neck. As they continued to thrust, Harry started murmur "Oh God," over and over again. The choke in his voice was enough to send Draco over the edge.

He cried out loudly, spilling onto Harry's stomach, and in the same moment feeling Harry twitch and do the same to him. It didn't even register that Harry had sunk his teeth into the exposed flesh above Draco's collarbone until he finished. Draco hissed a little in pain, and Harry abruptly pulled back. A few drops of blood came out of a crescent shaped mark on Draco's pale flesh.

Harry winced, and then his face lost all color. He looked up at Draco's eyes, his own starting to water and abruptly apparated away.

Was it you who told me once

Now looking back it seems surreal

That all our mistakes are merely grist for the mill

So why is it now after I had my fill

would you steal from me the sorrow that I've earned

Shall we call this a lesson learned?

Godric's Hollow was the most beautiful place Harry had ever been, and to be able to go there whenever he wanted was like paradise. Sure, the house was still in ruins, but the land was his. The land where his mother once gardened, where his father once had drinks with the Marauders in the back yard was now a place Harry could sit and think. The beginning of spring brought a cool breeze to the usually heavy air. Though the leaves hadn't fully came out yet, the ancient oak and maple trees of the yard were so overcome with buds and young green shoots, that you knew they would succumb to the change soon.

Harry sat under one of the largest trees, a European Beech, whose branches hung so low it looked like an upturned umbrella creating a dome of leaves over the ground. He often would see there and just imagine how different things would have been if he could have weaved in an out of the beech leaves as a child, instead of wandering unnoticed through a sea of concrete and baleful glares.

Now that he was alone, in the loud silence of a dripping spring evening, Harry felt sick to his stomach. He had been overcome with a strong desire, and something else he couldn't quite put a name to, and had taken Draco. There was something about his haunted gaze, the pale planes of his body, and his wry humor even in the face of tragedy that had drawn Harry in. He was unprepared for the rush he felt that propelled him toward Draco's perfect mouth. Not only was this Malfoy, but a man at that.

Harry had never given much though to his sexuality until this moment. With his life on the line, and then the pieces to pick up, his heart was lost somewhere in the shuffle. He and Ginny gave it a shot, but they both seemed to feel that something was missing. Harry thought nothing of the fact that no women ever seemed to strike his interest after her, chalking it up to not seeing the right one.

But then again, Harry never was very honest with himself. Looking back, he knew he spent more time with his eyes lingering on men than he ought to have. And while they spent those endless months camping, Harry had memorized the curve of Ron's arse. Sure, Ron's arse wasn't an overwhelming desire for him, but his eyes feasted on it anyway. Even then, Harry considered himself just bored and lonely.

But ever since Draco had taken up refuge in Grimmauld Place, Harry's wandering eyes had betrayed him even further. And with no life threatening distractions to keep his will at bay, Harry found himself entranced by the graceful way Draco moved, by his strong, thin body, and by the eerie gray of his eyes.

However, visions of what he saw in that dungeon seared Harry's mind like a grotesque firebrand. The blood, the bruises, the leers on the men's faces ripped Harry opened inside. The soulless, tortured look on Draco's face was enough to send Harry spiraling into his own personal darkness.

Even as Draco recovered, Harry could see the small lilt in his step, the faint scars on exposed portions of his skin, and the fading shadow of bruises on his white body. He longed to run his hands over every inch of Draco in repair, to kiss his lips and restore the sharpness to his eyes that used to be present before their sixth year.

Harry hadn't meant to get into a fight with Draco, especially a physical one. But to hear the accusations that he berated himself with on a daily basis ringing in his ears had snapped something inside of him. For over a year now, Harry had suppressed the notion that it was all his fault, knowing logically that he did what he could and he didn't cause all of that death. But to hear it spill hatefully from Draco's mouth ripped open the thin walls around that area of his mind.

However, the closeness of Draco had brought Harry out of the dark mood and into a startling fire burning inside of him. He needed to feel Draco, needed to be closer. Even under this beech tree, upon reflection, his body seemed to light with electricity. He craved Draco, and felt as though he had certainly devoured him.

The thought made him loathe himself though. After all Draco had been through, Harry felt as though he had taken something he shouldn't have. And to see the blood delicately dripping from a mark Harry had given Draco had made Harry run. Harry ran from fear of being just like the men who hurt Draco, from fear of what he was feeling, and from fear of what those feelings meant. He couldn't talk to anyone, so he sat alone, resolved to avoid the waking world forever in the solitude of this upturned tree.

A sudden 'crack' broke Harry out of his thoughts.

"Master! I thought you should know, Mr. Malfoy has taken his leave," Kreacher croaked, bowing lowly and disapparating.

"Shit!" Harry shouted, jumping to his feet. He should have known, after what happened that Draco couldn't be bothered to stay there anymore, not even for his safety. Harry pushed down the pang of guilt and worry and forced himself to think. He needed to go after Draco, but he couldn't even fathom how to do that. Where would he even start? The Manor was out of the question as that was destroyed in an unsolved act of violence very shortly after the war. He couldn't go back to Paris, they knew where Draco lived. Harry was at a loss.

Resigned that he couldn't do it alone, Harry sighed and steeled himself for the inevitable awkward conversation he would have to have. He quickly apparated to Ron and Hermione's apartment.

"Ron! Hermione!" Harry shouted, not even bothering to announce his presence or firecall before apparating.

"Whoa, mate! Hermione's catching up on some work. Where's the fire?" Ron said, despite it being late afternoon, he was still in his pajamas, messy hair standing up in many different directions. He seemed to look a little alarmed at Harry's sudden and loud arrival.

"Draco's gone, he left," Harry said, panicked at both the gravity of what could happen to Draco and how he would explain to Ron what was going on.

"What the fuck did he do that for? Does the arrogant little sod think he can handle himself with that freak still on the loose?" Ron said a small smirk on his face.

"Damnit, Ron!" Harry said, gripping his hair in frustration.

"Harry? What's going on?" Ron said, speaking more softly and with much more seriousness.

"I told you, Draco took off. We have to find him before Runcorn does…but I have no idea where to look," Harry said, his weak legs carrying him to the overstuffed chair near the door.

"Well, first…why did he leave? Did you say something to him?"

Harry nodded.

"I don't blame you. Living with Malfoy that long can't be good for anyone. Whiney bitch shouldn't be running away at a little insult." Ron said, though he still sounded puzzled.

"Fuck…that's not all, Ron." Harry said, unable to meet his eyes.

"Oh Merlin, Harry. Did you hit him? Again, I don't blame you, bastard probably deserved it," Ron said, sitting in the chair across from Harry.

"He doesn't deserve it! He didn't…I shouldn't have done it!" Harry shouted, rising to his feet.

"Alright, alright mate. Calm down. Did he provoke you?" Ron said, looking at Harry warily.

"We were fighting. He said something, and I hit him. And he was in a towel and we were at each other…and…oh I can't do this," Harry said, getting up and raising his wand to apparate.

Ron jumped up and grabbed Harry's wrist.

"I'll help you find him," He said quietly.

"Where would he go?" Harry said weakly.

"Well, he doesn't have a wand, does he? They obviously took that from him. So he's probably on foot. How long has he been gone?" Ron said, moving to put his boots on.

"I didn't even realize he didn't have a wand," Harry said, slightly relieved.

"Well, that's what I'm here for…to state the obvious," Ron smirked.

"Ron, I think it's about time to join the aurors. I can't function without you…obviously." Harry said as Ron threw on his cloak.

"I was going to tell you this weekend, but I've already taken the test. I'm in!" Ron smiled beatifically.

Harry was feeling much more sure of Malfoy's safety as they exited the apartment.

They found him sitting on a park bench a few blocks away from Grimmauld Place. It was pouring rain, but he sought no shelter at all. He just sat there, staring blankly ahead, soaked to the bone. Harry and Ron quickly ran to him to make sure he hadn't been cursed. The small change in Draco's countenance as Harry approached was all the proof they needed that he was fine.

"Draco, you need to come back right now! I'm so sorry about what I did," Harry shouted above the torrent of thick raindrops on his skull. Draco appeared to not have heard Harry, but he knew better.

"Your face looks fine! I can't even see where Harry hit you!" Ron shouted, obviously trying to help.

At this, Draco turned bright red despite the chill of the rain. He turned, his grey eyes beginning to smoke, and looked directly at Harry. "That's what you told him happened, huh?" Draco said angrily. "Like you could ever get the better of me anyway."

"I did get the better of you, if I remember correctly," Harry said with equal vitriol. The double entendre was obvious for them both, and Harry could feel more than just a rush of anger as he said it out loud.

"What the bloody fu…'relashio'!" Ron cast a spell at a tall, hooded man, wand brandished at them in the middle of the park. Harry cast a shield charm as the man staggered from Ron's spell, casting his own stunner at Draco.

Harry stayed firmly in place in front of Draco, casting spells over Ron's shoulder at the masked offender. Ron continued shooting curse after curse at the man, taking and giving blows in equal proportion. Narrowly dodging a killing curse, Ron ducked behind a tree. Harry cast an 'incarcerous', and as the man was deflecting that, Ron stunned him powerfully enough to make him stagger back against a tree.

This move gave Ron a clear advantage, and he advanced to gain a better aim on his spells. As he was doing so, the man raised his wand, sending another killing curse going over Ron's shoulder and heading straight for Draco. Harry cast a shield and the impact of the spell against his own deflection was enough to make his wrists vibrate painfully, feeling as though his bones were shattering. However, the effort of holding the spell against Harry had distracted the man long enough for Ron to cast a stunner right at his head, and the Deatheater was taken down. Ron conjured ropes and secured the prisoner as Harry took his wand. It wasn't a surprise when they took off the mask and found Runcorn there.

Harry made his way across the slick grass to where Draco stood, body still pressed tightly against the tree, though his face remained impassive. "Are you okay? Did you get hit anywhere?" Harry said, reaching out and touching Draco's arms for any traces of damage.

"I'm fine…is that really him?" Draco said, his face still not showing any emotion.

"Yes, we got him," Harry said, watching Draco walk toward the bound man even has he finished his sentence.

Suddenly, Draco's face contorted with rage like Harry had never seen on anyone before. He delivered a swift kick to Runcorn's ribs, causing the man to groan and snap out of his temporary coma. The tip of Draco's boot connected with Runcorn's jaw, and before the man even got respite, Draco was kicking him again. Blow after blow hit his face, abdomen, and even his groin. Ron and Harry just stood in shocked horrified silence for many moments. Soon, Ron came to his senses and pulled Draco back, leaving Runcorn gasping and bleeding on the ground.

Ron went over to heal the Deatheater, a smart decision if they wanted to bring him back to the Ministry to stand trial. Harry didn't know if he could have done it, thinking Draco's methods far more effective for what the man deserved. Harry walked cautiously over to Draco, who had fallen to his knees onto the ground, his head in his hands and his body shaking. Harry kneeled next to him, and before he could consider his audience, he had pulled Draco into a close embrace with Draco's head buried against the warm skin of his neck.

To Harry, the rest of the world seemed to melt away. All he saw was Draco: his helpless form being repeatedly beaten and violated before his eyes, the look of rapture on his face when Harry wrapped his hands around his leaking cock, and the pain hidden in his eyes behind the mask of rage while he was kicking Runcorn. He kept his arms wound tightly around Draco's shaking form as his hands gripped Harry's robes desperately. He didn't want to let Draco go, didn't want to run away from this anymore.

Harry had spent his whole life doubting his own feelings, doubting his own worth. Even in his second year, his first thought was that his friends didn't want him when the letters didn't come. He blamed himself for the pain of those he loved during the war. He hid behind a mask of indifference so that no one could get too close after he lost Sirius, Dumbledore, Remus and Tonks. Ron and Hermione had managed to break through to him, but Harry constantly still felt himself undeserving of such friends.

He couldn't do it anymore. The weight of his own soul, of his own mind became too much to bear by himself. He had an overwhelming desire to lay it all on Draco's shoulders, and to take on his entire burden in return. Harry had never felt that urge before, and couldn't ignore it no matter who he was feeling it toward. He pressed his forehead to Draco's and locked their eyes together.

"It's okay now, it's all over now," Harry whispered over the rain.

"Oh god! It's finally over," Draco croaked, keeping his forehead planted against Harry's.

Suddenly, Harry knew that what had barely started could be all over too.

"You don't have to come back to the house now, either," Harry pulled away, avoiding Draco's eyes. Ron seemed to be occupied healing Runcorn, but his hands were frozen and he was obviously listening. Harry held his breath.

"What if I want to?" Draco said quietly.

"I promise, I won't do…what I did again," Harry said, feeling hope at having Draco around a little longer.

"What if I want you to?" Draco said. "What if I need you to?"

"I'm going to bring Runcorn into the Ministry now!" Ron said, a little too loudly. His face was bright red and he didn't meet Harry's eyes. "Alright mate?" Ron asked after a brief pause, finally looking up at Harry.

Harry knew that Ron was saying more than just that simple question. He nodded slightly and gave Ron a small smile. Ron didn't smile back, but he nodded in understanding and apparated away with Runcorn's limp body.

Harry shut himself into the first floor loo and peeled his sopping wet clothes off. He paused in the mirror, his gaze going over his battle-worn body. He had scars from curses, but other than that, things didn't look too badly. He was a bit too hairy, with a thick wiry patch of black on his chest and leading to his groin, but Harry was pleased with the muscles he had gained as an auror. Realizing that Draco was somewhere upstairs likely doing something similar had sent all the blood rushing downward in Harry's body. He hoped he had enough self-control not to throw himself at Draco the moment he saw him again.

Harry pulled on some comfortable jeans and a tee shirt and made is way to the study. He was going to give Draco time to get settled, fearing the awkwardness that would ensue when they saw each other again after that achingly truthful moment in the rain. Harry sat down on the couch and lit a fire with his wand. It had been a long day, and drying his body next to the fire was bliss after being soaked with rain. Harry felt himself drift off before he knew it.

Harry woke to a warm, wet feeling running along his jaw line. As his head began to unfog, he could feel someone's hand snaking up his shirt, and Harry sighed at the feeling of warm flesh touching his abdomen. He could smell the musky scent of rainwater and something more masculine buried underneath it and he breathed in deeply.

"Oh Draco," Harry said, reaching his hand up to feel the side of Draco's face as he continued to kiss along Harry's jaw. "You don't have to…you don't. You can stay here as long as you want."

Draco stopped abruptly and pulled up, his head now impossibly far from Harry's as he sat away from him on the couch. "I'm not a whore, Potter." Draco said his face hardening into a scowl.

"I know, I just…well I didn't want you to think…" Harry was stumbling over his words. The whole situation was surreal. Harry seriously desired Draco Malfoy, and Draco seemed to want him. He didn't think it was even possible, and now it was making him unsure about everything.

"Stop being so timid," Draco whispered, crawling across the small distance between them to kiss Harry hard on the lips.

At that request, something snapped in Harry, and he intended to take Draco very seriously. He grabbed Draco's hair and pulled him on top of him, letting his tongue probe Draco's warm mouth. Harry reveled in the feeling of Draco's warm body pressed against his, and thrust up, showing Draco he was anything but timid. Draco answered with his own thrust, moaning lightly into Harry's kiss. Harry wanted him so bad; he didn't even have time to question his own lack of experience.

Draco sat up, his legs straddling Harry's hips, and pulled his shirt over his head. Harry's breath caught in his throat and Draco, realizing what he had just done, appeared to clench his fists and wait for humiliation. Draco's eyes were closed and his head turned slightly to the side. Harry had to force the image of Draco being hurt out of his head, as the scars, bruises, and jutting bones shone as a reminder in front of his eyes. He was overwhelmed with a need to pull Draco to his chest, wrap his arms around him tightly, and comfort him until the storm subsided behind both of their eyes.

Harry laid his palms on either side of Draco's chest, just below the ribcage, and let his thumbs move over the marks on his abdomen. Draco bit his lip and sighed, but his eyes remained close. Harry was mesmerized by the rise and fall of Draco's chest, and he sat up, his lips touching the hollow in the center of Draco's torso. As Harry kissed upward, he let his hands move to Draco's back and travel up and down over the webbing of scars there. Draco was remaining very still, but Harry could hear his heart hammering in his chest. When Harry's lips reached Draco's earlobe, he knew he had to say something. Words were burning across his tongue.

"Gods, Draco…just let me take it away. Just let me have some of it. I can't get the image of you in pain out of my head," Harry begged, pulling Draco impossibly close as his lips ghosted across his face.

"You can't, you can't fix everything," Draco whispered. "Just be here, just touch me."

Harry allowed Draco to pull his shirt off and then he took him back down to the couch. He kept his hands on Draco's bare skin as he kissed down Harry's chest. He could see the smooth paleness of Draco's face in contrast to his own darker, more rigid body, and he was struck with how beautiful it was. Harry could feel the erection throbbing painfully in his jeans and knew he would never make it for as long as he wanted to. He didn't even have any idea what he was doing, he just knew he wanted to do it more and more.

He reached down and began to undo the buttons on Draco's trousers. Draco stood abruptly and took off his bottoms and pants in one swift motion, letting them glide over his bare feet and stepping out of them. He was tall and elegant, the white of his skin glowing in the dying daylight. His hair, usually perfectly in place, was falling in his eyes and his lips were swollen. His cock was long and pink, engorged just as painfully as Harry's, and inexplicably making Harry's mouth water. For never going farther than some light petting and that being with a girl, Harry was more than ready to absorb his new lover with everything he had.

The very deep bruises that still lingered on Draco's hips made Harry get up and gather him in his arms. His hand glided all over Draco's body as he kissed him softly, keeping Draco pressed safely in the warmth of his chest. Draco's hands were gripping Harry's shoulders tightly, as though trying to hold him in place, and his tongue was probing Harry's mouth with intense need. Harry paused for a second of doubt before reaching down to cup the white globes of Draco's arse.

Draco jumped and Harry opened his eyes to him wincing.

"Oh god, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…" Harry started, already berating himself for pushing Draco so far when he obviously still needed time.

"I want this. I want you. It's just a bit of a reflex. You need to stop being so timid," Draco commanded, his gray eyes piercing Harry's.

Harry swallowed hard and nodded, the look in Draco's eyes displaying such a ferocious want that Harry thought he may be devoured right then.

"I want to feel someone else on my skin, want someone else's body with mine. I want to be able to want something again. And I want that to be you…damnit Potter…I can't believe it, but I need it to be you," Draco finished, beginning to kiss along Harry's collarbone.

Draco fell to his knees and immediately began to undo Harry's flies. Harry groaned when Draco pulled Harry's pants down and his cock bobbed over top of the elastic waistband. Draco's hand immediately began to stroke him to the point where Harry couldn't manage moving at all, even to step out of his clothes. Harry felt Draco's long fingers wrap around his hips and come to rest in his crevice, sending chills of apprehension and excitement up Harry's spine.

"Oh fuck!" Harry shouted when Draco's lips wrapped around his leaking cock. Draco looked up at him, and with his mouth still stretched thin, lifted a sexy eyebrow at Harry and began to move his lips slowly up and down. "Bloody fucking Christ!"

It only took a few more movements like that for Harry to come. He didn't even think of warning Draco, just felt his body lose all control as Draco's hands gripped his arse more tightly. Draco stood up, licking his lips, and Harry fell heavily against him, forgetting what Draco had just done and kissing him fiercely. The taste of him mixed with Draco seemed to stir Harry again, and he let his tongue dance lazily inside Draco's mouth until he felt Draco's hardness press insistently against his hip.

"You've never done anything like this before, have you?" Draco asked as Harry began to wrap his hand around Draco's hardness.

"Why do you say that?" Harry tried to sound nonchalant, but he was fearful he was doing something wrong.

"Just a hunch…" Draco said, letting his teeth lightly graze Harry's shoulder.

Harry groaned before answering "Never" and going back to kissing Draco's demanding mouth.

When Draco actually snorted slightly against Harry's lips, he pulled back. Draco had a smirk of smug satisfaction on his face, even as he gazed at Harry with desire. Harry kissed Draco hard, hands pushing on his shoulders until Draco's back hit the wall with a hard 'thud'. Draco looked shocked, his eyes wide open, as Harry held him in place with his body.

"But you see, I'm a quick learner," Harry whispered, his fingers lightly pinching Draco's nipples as he kissed his neck. When Harry's newly burgeoning erection, pressed against Draco's, his moans of delight became louder and Draco whimpered in Harry's ear with want.

Truthfully, Harry's mind was spinning. He knew what he wanted, it burned inside of him, but he had never done anything like this before. This would be something he couldn't undo, something he couldn't take back, and something he wouldn't be able to forget. However, the thought of forgetting seemed to stab at Harry's heart, and he knew he wanted to be with Draco for more than this evening. He hoped Draco could be with him, he hoped they could overcome everything they had been through to find a footing somewhere with each other.

Desperation made Harry grab Draco and turn him around roughly, pinning him to the wall with his chest, his hands floating up and down Draco's sides. His lips connected with Draco's shoulder and the top of his spine as his erection began to move along the cleft of Draco's arse. He felt Draco's entire body tense, and his hands dig into the oak paneling on the wall. Harry let his hands continue to roam comfortingly on any spot of Draco's body he could reach.

"Are you okay?" Harry whispered. Draco nodded. Harry reached up and turned Draco's face to kiss him. "Just let me know if it's too much."

"Think awful much of yourself," Draco smirked. Then, his face changed, something flashed in his eyes, and he kissed Harry again. The kiss was so desperate that Harry got lost in it. "I will."

Harry kissed down Draco's back, and with shaking legs he got to his knees. He knew enough about the necessity of lubrication to know that he would hurt Draco if he didn't do something. The fact that Harry was facing Draco's arse was enough to send a bevy of emotions burning fire through his chest. He nervously gripped Draco's hips and began to kiss lightly on the scars and bruises on his pale, round flesh. Harry tried to tamp down the lump in his throat that appeared as he saw all the pain etched across Draco's bare skin.

Harry spread Draco open and ran his tongue along the crevice before he could think too much. The cry that Draco let out was enough to keep Harry going, savoring the musky taste of Draco's body. His tongue probed into the tight ring of muscle and Draco's body shook. Harry loved the responses he was getting, loved to be the one holding the power, and quickly brought his fingers up to his lips. He slid a finger through Draco's entrance and he groaned, Draco's body clenching around his finger felt amazing. He couldn't wait to plunge deep inside Draco and elicit these delicious moans that were floating like music around the study.

Draco called out Harry's name when Harry inserted another finger, his tongue joining him to add more lubricant. Harry felt a wave of fierce possessiveness come over him. He was doing this to Draco. He was making Draco feel good. Harry wanted to claim Draco, to make the blonde wizard his own, and keep him close. He stood and bit at Draco's neck lightly, his throbbing cock running up and down Draco's cleft.

"Please, Harry, need you so bad," Draco moaned, his hips pressing back against Harry even as Harry's body was holding him against the wall.

"You're mine, now," Harry groaned, putting his foot between Draco's legs to spread him farther open.

"All yours, anything you want," Draco croaked out, his forehead pressed against the wall and his palms flat on either side.

"No one will ever hurt you again, I'll never hurt you," Harry whispered.

He slid slowly into Draco's tight heat, feeling his body relax around him with each inch he moved. When Harry felt Draco's body loosen slightly, he pressed in until his hips met Draco's skin. They both yelled out in sudden pleasure, holding still while their breathing slowed.

"Fucking hell," Harry murmured. "This is…ugh…" Harry couldn't speak as Draco began to push back against him. Harry pressed his body hard against Draco's and began to thrust in and out quickly. "You feel so good," He croaked out, the muscles in his abdomen already beginning to spasm.

"Touch me, Harry, please," Draco groaned, the planes of his back flexing from the exertion of pushing against the wall to meet Harry's thrusts. Harry snaked his hand in between Draco and the wall and began to stroke Draco in time with their movements.

"Mine…mine…" Harry was moaning, ready to give in at any moment. He couldn't believe the need he had to say those words, to hear their confirmation. Something primal was erupting inside of Harry, and despite the newness of these feelings, Harry felt as though the need had been there for as long as he could remember.

"Oh…yours…oh…" Draco twitched in Harry's hand, his seed spilling onto Harry's fingers. As his body clenched around Harry's, Harry felt himself give way to waves that were threatening to take him over. He came hard inside of Draco, harder than he had ever been able to do on his own, and held onto Draco tightly like a lifeline.

Harry was leaning heavily against Draco, Draco being supported largely by the study wall. He kept his arms wrapped around Draco's waist as they caught their breath, his head resting on Draco's shoulder. When he had gained some composure, Draco took a hand from the wall and wrapped it around Harry's clasped hands at his navel. Harry was hoping that as the high wore off, the desire would still be there, and so would the need. He had never had a morning after…or evening in this case…but he longed to fall asleep with Draco staying firmly in place next to him.

"Let's go upstairs," Draco whispered.

"Yeah…um…okay" Harry said, his awkwardness returning. He followed Draco up to his own bedroom and was happy to see Draco walk in with him. They got under the red covers, after a disgusted little snort from Draco at the red and gold décor, and Harry immediately pulled Draco's back up against his chest. They lay there in silence for a long while, and Harry thought Draco had drifted off to sleep.

"I have no place to go," Draco whispered suddenly, his voice shaky.

"You don't have to go anywhere," Harry whispered back as he was falling asleep.

Shall we call this a lesson learned?