Disclaimer: I have never and will never own Harry Potter. Too bad, really.

A/N: I apologize for any mistakes, this is unbeta'd and my brain kind of melted when I wrote it.

Draco had been tense all day, so tense that it was all he could do to keep from snapping and cursing the next person who talked to him. His muscles were sore, his eyes were bloodshot, and his head was filled with an exhausted kind of terror. He had spent five hours last night working on the bloody vanishing cabinet in the room of requirement, six hours the day before, and who knows how long the day before that. He hadn't had more than a few hours sleep per night in weeks, and it was starting to take a noticeable toll on him. Even when he did sleep, his dreams were filled with horror and torture and death. This morning he'd woken up screaming, a vision of his mother writhing in pain at the end of the Dark Lord's wand causing phantom pains to shoot through the dark mark branded on his left arm.

It had all seemed so exciting, this summer when his father had told him that the Dark Lord wanted to initiate him into the Death Eaters. Draco had felt so proud. It made him feel worthy, adult, powerful. Finally he would have the respect he craved, from his father and from the world when the Dark Lord won coming war. And there was no question in Draco's mind that he would win. Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix was bothersome, but ultimately few in numbers and rather pathetic, made up of Weasleys and half bloods and mudbloods. And Potter. Draco would have pledged his loyalty to the Dark Lord just to spite Potter, the self-righteous Gryffindor arse licker.

He closed his eyes in exhaustion as he remembered his initiation. His father had looked proud and impassive, as usual, but strained. The Dark Lord was displeased with Lucius for his failure at the ministry several months ago. His mother had been trying to hold back tears. At first, Draco had naïvely thought they were tears of pride. It wasn't until the initiation was done that he realized they were tears of despair.

Draco had naïvely thought a lot of things. He thought that serving the Dark Lord would bring him honour and glory, that he would purify the world and ensure the survival of their race, that his followers would rule in the new world order. Draco almost let out a hysterical bark of laughter at the thought. It had taken all of ten minutes in the Dark Lord's presence for Draco to realize that he had been a fool. The Dark Lord was a megalomaniac and a sadist, and he would never share his power. Watching his father crawl on the ground at the feet of that madman had horrified Draco. Malfoys didn't crawl. The father he looked up to would never allow himself to be so humiliated. In a single evening his entire worldview had been shattered, and he had understood his mother's despair.

He had stared into the eyes of the Dark Lord and seen only death looking back. He had knelt, and allowed himself to be branded because he had no other choice. He was 16. He wasn't ready to die. In that moment he had hated his father, hated the Dark Lord, raged against the world and his own naïvety for putting him in this position. And when the Dark Lord had stared into his eyes and smiled, he had known that his hated Lord knew exactly what he was thinking.

He had been tortured. He had been forced to use the cruciatus curse on a muggle couple who had been captured especially for his initiation. He had screamed as the dark mark was branded into his skin, and the Dark Lord had taken pleasure in his pain.

When it was done, the Dark Lord had given him his task. His impossible task. Draco had been incredulous. How could he possibly expect a sixth year student to kill Albus Dumbledore, one of the most learned and powerful wizards of all time? Draco had no liking for the man but he would be a fool not to recognize his power. And he would never allow himself to be a fool again. No, it was clear that the Dark Lord didn't expect him to succeed. He was using Draco to punish Lucius, and using Narcissa as a hostage to keep both Malfoy men in line.

Draco knew there was only one way to survive this with his family intact. He had to succeed when no one expected him to. He had to distinguish himself in the eyes of the Dark Lord, gain his trust, and then take his parents and disappear. It was a half-baked plan, born out of desperation, but he didn't know what else to do. He wasn't sure his Father would ever defy the Dark Lord, but maybe he could at least save his mother and himself. His father had betrayed the Malfoy name, and it was up to Draco now to save them.

But first he had to kill Albus Dumbledore.

Draco glanced up at the head table, his eyes drawn to twinkling blue eyes and a long white beard. Sometimes, he found the headmaster looking back at him, looking sad and wise, and he thought that maybe Dumbledore knew exactly what he was trying to do. But he brushed aside those thoughts as ridiculous, Dumbledore never would just let him continue if he knew what Draco was planning. The headmaster was not as omniscient as he wanted everyone to believe.

Earlier in the year Draco had been clumsy in his desperation, and his half-hearted attempts had been no better than could be expected of a sixth year. Professor Snape had offered his help, but the only way Draco's plan would work was if he succeeded on his own. He had to make himself valuable to the Dark Lord, had to change himself from a pawn into knight if he wanted to survive.

That was why Draco pushed himself, night and day. He spent every spare moment in the room of requirement or the library, trying to find a way to fix the cabinet. His schoolwork was suffering and his professors had started to notice, but he didn't care. His marks didn't matter in the face of the coming darkness, his former friends' ridiculous teenage drama didn't matter, his health didn't matter, nothing mattered but his survival and his mother's safety, and both depended on that blasted cabinet.

He had been told more than once recently that he looked like hell, but he couldn't bring himself to care about that either. He felt like hell. He had no appetite. He was skinnier than he had ever been, almost skeletal. His eyes were sunken and surrounded by purple, his face sickly pale and his hair lank and unkempt.

Draco's hand shook as he poured himself a goblet of water. He couldn't stomach anything else for supper tonight. Pansy was nattering on in his ear, but he ignored her. She had no idea what was coming, none of them did. Not the Slytherins who were sympathetic to the Dark Lord, talking about blood purity and a new world order. Not the blustering Gryffindors, talking about courage and honour and battle. They would all be swallowed by the darkness that would soon envelop Britain, and they wouldn't really understand the horror of it all until it was far too late. They didn't know what was coming, and Draco envied them their innocence.

Across the great hall a pair of green eyes caught and held his gaze. Potter. There was at least one other person who understood what was coming. Potter knew what it was like to be tortured, to stand in the presence of the Dark Lord and fear for your life. Potter knew the darkness that was coming. Draco could see it in his eyes, and he knew that Potter could probably see the same knowledge in his own. Perhaps that was why Potter was always watching him, following him, antagonizing him. He knew Draco was up to something, but he would never know more than that.

Draco stood up from the Slytherin table and made his way out of the great hall. He was determined that today would be the day, he had another idea about how he could fix the cabinet and he really thought it might work this time.

He didn't notice Potter stand up and follow him.

Draco walked quickly towards the room of requirement, secure in the knowledge that almost everyone was still in the great hall.

Just as he was passing for a second time in front of the wall in the seventh floor corridor, thinking as hard as he could about the room he needed, Potter rounded the corner and ambushed him.

"Malfoy!" He called out. "I want to talk to you."

Draco arranged his face into his best sneer before he turned around, his heart beating quickly in his chest. How had Potter snuck up on him?

"What, Potter?" He snapped. "Don't you have any babies to kiss or kneazles to rescue from trees? Why the hell are you stalking me?"

For once, Potter didn't rise to the bait, and that made Draco very nervous.

Potter stepped forward and leaned against the wall a few feet away from Draco, arms crossed. His eyes swept over Draco from head to toe and Draco felt bare and vulnerable, like Potter could see right through him. Draco refused to back away, refused to show any weakness.

"What?" He snapped again, fighting the urge to cross his arms over his chest and mirror Potter's position.

"I have a proposition for you," Potter said quietly, now looking at Draco's face, reading every nuance of emotion he found there. "It seems to me that you wouldn't be nearly so much of a git if you got laid."

Draco blinked in surprise. "Therefore," Potter continued, drawing a step closer, "I thought I'd offer my services, for the good of the school of course." Potter gave him a Slytherin worthy smirk, and Draco could only blink at him in astonishment. Did Potter really just offer to have sex with him? Had he fallen asleep somewhere? Or perhaps the stress was causing him to hallucinate? Draco raised his hand and poked Potter in the shoulder. Okay, not a hallucination, and he was too tired to be dreaming.

Draco felt his head spin and his thoughts stutter to a halt. Everything he thought he knew about innocent golden boy Potter had just been blasted into smithereens and rearranged, and for the first time since he had met the Dark Lord, he felt a stirring of arousal.

Draco had been secretly lusting after Potter for years. It was his dirty little secret, a truth that he hid at the bottom of his soul and never revealed lest it be used against him. His desire for Potter was one he could never act on, first because he was the Malfoy heir and needed to marry a pureblood witch to carry on the family legacy, and second because Potter despised him. He had spent years watching Potter, antagonizing him, carefully cultivating his hatred to overpower any other feelings he might have for him. Sometimes it worked, but no matter how hard he tried Draco couldn't seem to stop wanting to impress him. He wanted Potter's attention, his respect, his body, and it made him act like a bloody fool.

And now here Potter stood, offering Draco what he'd been craving for years, and Draco was speechless. For the first time since his initiation, the mind-numbing fear receded, overwhelmed by a flood of lust.

"W-what makes you think I even like men?" He managed to stammer incredulously.

Potter took a step closer and smirked again. "An educated guess. What do you say Malfoy? I'll let you do whatever you want to me. Don't you want to see me on my knees, sucking your cock?"

Draco almost whimpered. He'd never wanted anything so much in his life. But there was no way Potter would actually go through with it. And yet… for the first time in months he was feeling something other than fear and despair, and he wanted to see just how far Potter was willing to go with this charade. He suspected that Potter was playing with him, trying to humiliate him, or possibly trying to get information out of him. He decided to play along for now.

Draco stepped around Potter and leaned forward to murmur in his ear, carefully keeping any part of himself from brushing against the Gryffindor's body. "Anything I want? Will you let me fuck you?" Potter shivered, whether from arousal or fear at having his nemesis behind him Draco didn't know.

"Yes." Potter's voice was hoarse, but steady. Now it was Draco's turn to shiver, not that Potter could see him.

Draco paced quickly in front of the wall, desperately wishing for somewhere to shag Potter. He pushed all thought of the cabinet to the back of his mind. He refused to let this opportunity pass him by when he could so easily be dead or on the run in a few weeks. He had worked for months on his task, he could afford an hour to fulfill some of his darkest fantasies. At the moment he needed this distraction almost more than he needed to breathe. He was just so tired of being afraid.

A fancy wooden door appeared in the wall, and Draco wasted no time in opening it. Inside was a luxurious room with a large four-poster bed and a lit fireplace. It had elegant dark green walls and a thick green and blue Persian rug. There were candles floating in the air above their heads and what looked like silk sheets on the bed. The ceiling was mirrored, reflecting the light of the candles and giving the whole space a strange, ethereal glow. Draco saw Potter blink in surprise when he walked in and worried that he had given away more than he intended. Potter had probably expected some sort of BDSM dungeon.

Draco walked to the centre of the room and shut the door with a flick of his wand. He didn't want to give Potter time to contemplate just what the room meant or time to back out. He didn't care what Potter's motives were any more, he was going to take what had been offered to him.

"Strip," he commanded. To Draco's surprise and pleasure, Potter hurried to obey. Potter quickly undid his tie and pulled off his robes. His shirt got caught on his glasses, and it was so endearingly awkward that Draco had to smother a smile. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt like smiling.

By the time Potter started to remove his trousers he had regained his confident smirk, and stared at Draco's face deliberately as they fell to the floor. Draco swallowed. "Not bad, Potter," he managed to rasp out, staring at the way his skin almost glowed in the candlelight. Potter was slender but not skeletal like Draco. He seemed to have grown and filled out quite a bit in the last few years. He had an elegant sort of strength in his limbs, clearly defined pectorals and not quite washboard abs, but the potential was there. Draco had always been attracted to Potter, but now he had to admit that Potter was… kind of beautiful.

"Problem, Malfoy?" Potter sounded nervous and Draco realized he'd been staring. He fought to refocus his attention.

"Take your glasses off," he ordered, and a table conveniently appeared beside Potter to put them on. Potter squinted in his direction and Draco wondered just how much he could see.

Draco quickly slipped off his tie and removed his robes. He undid his trousers and slipped them off, but left his shirt and pants on. He didn't want the vulnerability of being completely naked. He also didn't want Potter to see the brand on his arm. He backed up and leaned against the nearest bedpost.

"Come here and suck my cock," he ordered, heart beating fast. It was time to see if Potter was actually going to go through with this.

Potter walked towards him at a steady pace, eyes becoming more and more focused the closer he got to Draco. He stepped so close that Draco could see every detail of his eyes, and they were so incredibly green, with streaks of gold. Draco almost stopped breathing as Potter stepped back and sank to his knees, his eyes never leaving Draco's face. He'd thought that having Potter on his knees would make him feel powerful, in control, but instead he felt more vulnerable than he'd ever been in his life.

Draco closed his eyes as Potter slowly dragged his pants down over his hips and his cock sprang free. He was already hard. He stepped free of the fabric when Potter directed him to, eyes still closed. Potter stroked a tentative hand up his shaft and his knees almost buckled. Potter's hand encircled him and warm, moist breath teased the tip, and Draco let out an involuntary whimper. A tongue licked at his slit and Draco's head slammed back against bedpost. He'd never wanted anything so much, never felt anything this intense, and Potter had barely even started. His breath was unsteady and his pulse was pounding.

Potter opened his mouth and engulfed him, sucking and tonguing the slit and moving has hand and Draco cried out, his eyes flying open to take in the glorious sight of Harry Potter with his lips wrapped around his cock. Draco dropped his wand and his hands entwined themselves in Potter's hair, and it was just as silky as he had always imagined. He didn't pull, or try to dictate Potter's movements because that might make Potter stop, and that was the worst thing Draco could possibly imagine at the moment.

Draco could hear the moans and curses and whimpers being ripped from his throat but couldn't bring himself to care about just how desperate he sounded. He had lost control and he didn't care. Potter's hands were holding his hips steady, stopping him from thrusting into his mouth, but he opened his throat and bobbed his head down, and Draco could feel him choke but keep going anyway, and he'd never been so grateful to anyone is his life. When Harry Potter committed to something, he didn't do it halfway.

That was when Draco realized that Potter really might let him fuck him, and he almost came from just the thought of it. He managed to stave off his orgasm through sheer willpower and the thought of Hagrid in a silky red dress. He gasped out "Stop," and pulled Potter's hair. Potter choked and let his cock slip from his lips with an obscene slurping noise.

His lips were red and swollen and shiny and Draco couldn't help himself. He pulled Potter up and snogged him like he was air and Draco was drowning. Potter's hands reached up to cradle Draco's head and he kissed back with equal hunger and desperation. Draco could feel the full length of Potter's body pressed against him, including Potter's hard cock against his hip, and he reached down to stroke it through his pants, smiling when Potter moaned and thrust against him.

Draco jumped when Potter tore his shirt open and pushed it off his shoulders but his apprehension was quickly forgotten when Potter stroked his thumbs over his nipples and then slid his hands down to rest on the curve of his ass, making him shiver. Draco retaliated by finally divesting Potter of his pants. He broke the kiss momentarily to rest his forehead on Potter's shoulder, panting as he looked down at Potter's cock, nestled in black curls and glistening with precome.

"Malfoy?" Potter's voice was deep and husky in his ear, and he was panting as hard as Draco was.

Draco lifted his head and stared directly into Potter's eyes. "On the bed, on your knees," he ordered, and watched Potter swallow.

Potter shifted himself away from Draco and crawled onto the bed. He wrapped his arms around a pillow and rested his forehead against it, leaving his arse in the air, knees spread.

Draco swallowed and almost came at the sight. It was such a submissive pose, vulnerable and trusting and so, so, hot. Draco crawled onto the bed behind him and gently ran his fingers down Potter's back and over the globes of his arse, parting his cheeks to stare at the little pink pucker that would soon be surrounding his cock. He lightly stroked a finger over it and Potter moaned. The sound went straight to Draco's cock and he desperately wanted to hear it again. He crawled closer and leaned forwards, pressing his cock between Potter's arse cheeks and his front against Potter's back. Potter flinched and gasped, probably thinking that Draco was going to take him dry and unprepared, but he didn't move away. Draco smiled.

Draco balanced himself on one hand, and moved the other one up to stroke through Potter's hair, lightly raking his nails over his scalp. Potter shivered and Draco felt it all along his body. He smoothed Potter's hair away from the nape of his neck and leaned down to kiss it, delighting in the surprised whimper he had coaxed from Potter. He slowly kissed and licked his way up to Potter's ear, which he licked and nipped, and then down and around Potter's neck to where it met his shoulder. He bit down gently and thrust his cock against Potter's arse at the same time. Potter moaned wantonly and pushed back against him.

Draco had never felt more in control. This was true power, the power to make Potter gasp and whimper and sigh and tremble with need. The power to make Potter pay attention to him and only him, to make him forget that the outside world even existed and play his body like an instrument.

Draco wanted this to be burned into Potter's soul, to make him forget every other lover he'd ever had, to own him so completely that he would always remember that, even if it was just for a while, he had belonged to Draco.

Draco kissed his way down Potter's spine, stroking his hands over Potter's arms and ribs and thighs, tweaking his nipples and rolling his hips against his arse. Potter was moaning and rocking back against him, desperate for every touch, but it wasn't enough.

Draco palmed Potter's arse again and moved back to stare at his hole. Then he leaned forward and licked it, and Potter gave a startled cry. Draco smirked and grabbed his wand off the floor, casting a spell to clean Potter inside and out. Potter shuddered at the feeling but Draco gave him no time to complain. He quickly leaned down and licked again, and sucked and licked until Potter was a writhing, moaning mess beneath him and Draco could barely hold him still.

Draco cast a quick lubrication charm and gently thrust one finger into Potter's loosened hole. Potter gasped in pain but quickly started pushing back again and Draco added another finger. He wrapped his arm around Potter's hips and slowly worked him open, thrusting and scissoring with his fingers the way he knew you were supposed to. Potter tried to smother his cries in his pillow, but Draco could still hear his moans of both pleasure and pain and he was harder than he had ever been in his life watching his fingers disappear inside Potter's arse.

Draco's fingers brushed against something and Potter screamed, his back arching and fists clenching in the pillow. Experimentally, Draco crooked his fingers again, just there, and Potter cried out again. Draco realized that he must have found Potter's prostate and he smirked, lightly rubbing over it again and again until Potter was sobbing for release, incoherently begging Draco to take him, fuck him, touch him.

Draco pulled his fingers from Potter's arse, ignoring his desperate moan, and flipped him over onto his back. He had wanted to take Potter from behind, possess him and surround him like an animal, but now he wanted to see Potter's face when he thrust inside him.

Potter's breathing was harsh and erratic, his hair even wilder than usual and his lips were swollen and parted as he panted. His chest heaved with every breath and there were tears of desperation leaking from his eyes. He looked absolutely wrecked, and Draco had never seen anything more beautiful.

"Please," Potter begged, spreading his legs and trying to pull Draco towards him, "Oh Merlin please!"

Draco grabbed Potter's legs and pushed his knees towards his chest, leaving him completely open and vulnerable. He leaned forward and stared into Potter's eyes as he slowly guided himself into Potter's hole, sinking inside inch by inch and never letting Potter look away. He wanted Potter to know exactly who it was that was taking him.

Draco began to shake as he slid all the way in, his balls resting against Potter's arse. Potter was hot and tight and slick and this was more intense than anything he'd ever felt before. Potter reached up and cradled Draco's face, his thumbs gently stroking his cheekbones, and they both froze, stunned by the sheer power of the moment. Draco stared at Potter, so vulnerable beneath him, and he realized he'd never felt so connected to anyone, and after months of terror and despair and loneliness it was just too much. He felt tears gather in his eyes and tried to blink them back but couldn't, and a few rolled down his cheeks. Potter gently stroked them away.

"It's okay," he murmured, "You're safe here, Draco, just let go."

Draco felt something inside his chest collapse and suddenly he was thrusting and gasping and Potter was moaning beneath him and clenching around him and their hands had somehow twined together above Potter's head but it didn't matter because it felt so good. They moved together in a desperate rhythm, and Draco couldn't looked away from Potter's face, because he looked so awed and focused, staring at Draco like he was the only other person in the world. And then Potter screamed and convulsed around him and Draco thought he must have hit his prostate but he couldn't think about it because suddenly he was flying, shaking and screaming his release.

Draco collapsed, panting, on top of Potter. His chest was slick with semen and he realized that Potter had come without Draco ever touching his cock. He felt awed, and vulnerable, and shaken. He pulled carefully out of Potter, making them both gasp, and then collapsed again, on his back. He closed his eyes and hid his face with his forearm, desperately trying to get his emotions back under control and failing. He heard Potter cast a cleaning spell, probably with Draco's wand, and then Potter's arms were around him and he was leaning his head against Potter's chest and sobbing. He cried for himself, for his family, for every illusion shattered and dream broken. He cried for the innocents who would soon be caught in the battle, for the muggles he had tortured, for Harry. He cried from fear, and joy, and despair and through it all Harry held him and, softly stroking his hair and rubbing his back and murmuring comfort and acceptance and endearments.

Eventually his tears ran dry and he just lay there quietly, trying to remember the last time he had felt so safe or so cared for. He pulled away a little so he could look at Harry's face. He looked tired, and sad, and far older than any 16 year old should have to look.

"Why?" Draco asked, trying to encompass the sex, and the submission, and the comfort all in one question.

"Because I wanted to, and you needed it." Harry replied simply, and pulled Draco close. Draco relaxed again with a sigh. He'd never thought that he'd be the cuddling type, and yet he couldn't bring himself to pull away.

"I've never… done that before." He admitted quietly.

Harry chuckled softly. "I know you haven't. Neither have I. Considering, I think we did alright."

Draco pulled back. "Alright? That was a damn sight better than just alright and you know it!" He said, and then Harry's words fully sunk in. "What? What do you mean you've never done that before? Why would you… I could have really hurt you!"

Harry smiled. "But you didn't. And even if you had, it still would have been worth it. You've been on the edge of a breakdown for weeks, love, and I thought this would be a much less destructive outlet."

"But…" Draco stared at him in astonishment and confusion and a little bit of awe. "Why would you even care?" He hadn't meant to sound so blatantly vulnerable, but he desperately wanted to know.

Harry snorted and pulled Draco towards himself again. "Sometimes," he said, and placed a kiss on the side of his mouth, "I really don't know. You're rude and snobbish and exasperating, you insult me and my friends and you antagonize me at every turn. But that's also what I like about you. You're fierce and clever and you don't take shit from anyone. You're competitive and challenging and you just don't know when to give up. And you're more beautiful than anyone has a right to be."

Draco had no idea how he could possibly respond to that so he pulled Harry into a kiss. It was slow, and sweet, and gentle, and everything that Draco had always wanted but would never have admitted to wanting.

Draco pulled away and huffed with frustration. "How the hell do you do this to me? You make me so angry and frustrated and jealous and…and stupid! I never lose control around anyone else this way." Draco rolled off the bed and started pacing, completely oblivious to his nudity. "You beat me at everything and you're the Gryffindor golden boy who can get away with anything and your stupid friends make me so jealous and I hate you for it!" Draco wasn't really conscious of what was coming out of his mouth at this point, all he knew was that this had been boiling under the surface for years and he could finally just say it, damn the consequences. "And then, and then you have to go and do something like this and make me… and now what the hell am I going to do? He has my mother and I can't… I have to… Merlin!" Draco lunged back towards the bed and shoved his left arm under Potter's nose. "You see this? Do you know what this means? It means that I'm as good as dead and so are my parents because we're slaves to a sadistic madman who won't stop until he pulls the world down around him. And my father is a fool for following him and a coward for using my mother and I to save his own skin!" Draco was trembling now; he'd never dared to say any of this out loud before. Harry stood up from the bed and put his hands on Draco's shoulders.

"Draco it's okay, we can help you, we can get you away and hide you somewhere he'll never find you. You don't have to follow him."

Draco just gazed at him in despair. "And what about my mother, Potter? If I openly betray him now he'll kill her."

"We'll find a way," Harry insisted fiercely, "I won't let you go back there, and I won't let your mother die."

Draco gave him a sad smile and rested his left hand on Harry's cheek, because he just couldn't help it. "I'm not the only one who doesn't know when to give up. Sometimes, Potter, there's no way out. Not even you can save everyone."

Harry put his hand over Draco's and carefully lowered it, turning his wrist so that the dark mark was clearly visible. He slid his hand down to Draco's elbow and leaned forward to place a gentle kiss on his forearm, right on Voldemort's mark. Draco felt his heart flutter and his eyes tear up. That single gesture meant more to him than any words Harry could have said.

"We'll find a way," Harry said again. And this time Draco believed him.

A/N: So this is my first time writing in the HP fandom, and my first time writing a lemon. If you liked it, let me know. Constructive criticism would also be very much appreciated.