Word Count: 12900
Warnings: Language, dub-con, bondage, sex, slight D/s
Summary: When his rival lands in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor, Draco thinks of a brilliant way to humiliate him. But keeping Harry Potter prisoner is tougher than it seems, and Draco begins to question all that he believes in.
Author's Notes: This is the first time I've written anything substantial in Draco's POV, and I hope I wrote him correctly. I hope you like what I've written, sonata_de_morte. I tried to fit in as many of your likes as I could.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and make no profit from this work.
Draco walked briskly down the stone steps and into the chilly depths that encased the Malfoy Manor dungeons.
The dungeons hadn't been used in a long time, but there were five humans and a goblin in them at the moment, though Draco was only interested in one.
Harry Potter stood behind the bars to the cell, glaring daggers at Draco. Ron Weasley was by his side, looking equally as pissed off, but Draco simply smirked at the pair of them. Draco had the upper hand here, and, as Hermione Granger's screams echoed down the stairs, Draco knew just how to play his cards and get exactly what he wanted.
"I do hope my aunt doesn't hurt the Mudblood too badly," Draco mocked, never having liked Granger much. Granted, Bellatrix could be unnecessarily cruel, but still…
"You bastard!" Weasley growled, reaching hands through the bars, clenching at the air where Weasley obviously wanted Draco's throat to be.
Potter pulled Weasley back, his eyes narrowed dangerously.
As expected, Potter was sickeningly defensive of his friends, and that was exactly what Draco wanted.
"So Potter," Draco drawled, and the boy in question didn't looked surprised; Draco knew Potter must have known Draco had lied about not knowing his identity. "Looks like you and your little friends finally got yourselves captured. It's a pity; as soon as Granger gives in, Bellatrix will kill everyone but you; the Dark Lord wants you for himself, you see."
"Did you come down here to do anything but gloat, Draco?" Potter said, sounding somewhat bored, and Draco's anger fuelled at that. Even the casual use of his first name sent an unpleasant shiver down Draco's spine.
"Actually, yes," Draco answered, and even with his face swollen as it was, Potter blinked in surprise. "I will let everyone in the dungeon go free, including Granger, in return for something I want. No negotiations; just my terms. It will be your choice."
"What do you want?" Potter spat, and Weasley gasped.
"Don't give in to him, Harry," Weasley whispered, though his voice was loud in the otherwise silent room. "He might want the, the, you-know-what."
"Unlike my aunt, I have no interest in that sword," Draco interrupted, rolling his eyes at Weasley's horrified expression. As if Draco didn't know how important the sword was to Potter. Fortunately for them, Draco had no interest in that; he just wanted one thing. "Potter, I will grant the others freedom in exchange for you."
Weasley gasped again, and even Lovegood and Thomas looked horrified. Potter was gritting his teeth, glaring at Draco darkly.
"Why?" Potter growled. "Do you want to turn me over yourself? That desperate for glory, are you?"
"If I wanted to turn you over, I could have revealed your identity earlier; my aunt would have ensured that the Dark Lord knew of my participation in your capture. No, my reasons are purely self-centred. I will keep you away from my parents and aunt, and you will provide me with your servitude. It's about time you were put in your place."
Thomas scoffed behind Potter. "Always knew you were a queer, Malfoy," the teen mocked, and Draco growled, angrily banging his fists against the cage.
"You watch your mouth," Draco hissed dangerously, drawing his wand. "Or else you may find your tongue in pieces."
"How do I know you'll let them go?" Potter questioned, and the anger in Draco seemed to disintegrate at once. He smirked once more; Draco knew he had hit Potter's weak spot.
"I shall free them first," Draco reasoned, and Potter nodded.
"Harry?" Weasley cried, a look of blind terror in his eyes. "You can't seriously be—"
"I am, Ron," Potter answered softly. "You really think Malfoy can hold me down?" Here, Potter cast a hate filled look at Draco.
So Potter thought he could easily beat Draco and escape, did he? Wouldn't he be in for a surprise?
"I will allow you to exit from the cell," Draco expanded, blowing lightly across his fingernails. "Then I will return the others their wands, so that they may Apparate to a place of their choosing. Be warned, however, that there are wards preventing anybody from simply Apparating to the manor, before you go attempting any foolish rescue plans."
"And Hermione?" Potter ground out, somehow managing to sound comprehensible despite his teeth being so clenched together.
"I shall distract my aunt and then provide Granger with her wand. You, Potter, will of course be in my chambers by then, however if you aren't willing to trust me, Bellatrix shall likely torture Granger into insanity, and the rest of your friends shall surely face the same torture before a certain death."
Potter stayed silent, his eyes studying Draco's face intently.
The others in the cell, even Ollivander and the goblin, seemed to be awaiting Potter's answer with baited breath.
"Fine," Potter finally agreed, and a shocked outburst emitted from every other prisoner. "But I swear, Malfoy, any tricks, and—"
"I hold true to my word; the rest of you step back while I let Potter out," Draco cut in, bringing his wand to the lock and waiting for Weasley to move.
"Ron, move back," Potter insisted to his friend, but the irritating red-head refused to move an inch.
"You're crazy if you think I'm going to let you do this, Harry," Weasley stated plainly, and Potter shook his head. Draco was pleased when Granger screamed again, and Weasley violently flinched. Potter noticed this too.
"Please, Ron, do it for Hermione at least," Potter begged, and Weasley finally nodded, slowly stepping back towards the far wall with everyone else.
Draco unlocked the cell and urged Potter forwards, casting Incarcerous on his wrists as he stepped through.
The cell locked behind him instantly, and Draco reached into the small sack he had carried in with him, stolen from a Snatcher, and tossed the wands into the cell. He pulled Potter in front of him, as, being more or less the same height and body shape as each other, the others would really only have the top of Draco's head to target if they wanted to try anything, and Draco doubted they would try if there was a high risk they could hit Potter.
"I'll be fine, guys. Please go while you can," Potter said, smiling encouragingly at his friends. They hesitated, as though the guilt of leaving Potter behind was too much to bear, but the will to live seemed to win in the end, and one by one, they Apparated away from the manor, Lovegood and Weasley staying last.
"Don't worry about Draco," Lovegood hummed, sending Draco, and not Potter, a smile. "He is nicer than you think." And then she Apparated, leaving only a fuming Weasley.
"I'll get you back for this, Malfoy, if it's the last thing I do," Weasley spat. "And if Hermione isn't back within half an hour, I will find a way back in to the manor, and you and your pathetic family will be sorry."
And looking like he could easily cry at any moment, Weasley Apparated, sending Potter one last sorrowful look.
"Well, Potter." Draco smirked, pushing Potter's back lightly. "I guess that leaves just you and me."
Getting Potter back to Draco's room had been unsurprising easy. Obviously the threat of Granger not being able to escape the manor had been weighing on Potter's mind, because the teen had allowed Draco to pull him through the secret passages of the manor, flinching each time he heard his friend scream.
Draco tied Potter to a chair in his room, and then returned downstairs, telling his Aunt Bellatrix that he needed to take Granger to see Weasley, because he believed that Weasley may have some sort of magical pact with her.
Unfortunately, his aunt had come with him, but Draco still managed to slip Granger her wand as Bellatrix raged at the sight of the missing prisoners, and Granger Apparated before she was noticed.
Bellatrix had turned on Draco with fury, but all he had to do was put on the confused puppy eyes; Aunt Bellatrix was insane, sadistic, and downright evil at times, but she also liked to coo over Draco. Draco's mother had told him that Bellatrix was unable to have her own children, and although she was psychotic, that hadn't lessened her desire to have children; Draco was all she had.
When Draco finally returned to his room, he found Potter untied from the chair, the rope lying torn on the floor, and Potter was desperately trying to pull the window away from its frame. The rest of Draco's room was a mess, with books thrown from the shelves onto the floor, the rug flipped over and pushed to the side of the room, and every drawer lay open with their contents hanging out.
Potter was panting heavily, and turned to look at Draco with an attempted dark look that was ruined by the very faint sign of guilt in those emerald orbs. The swelling in his face had gone down now, and Draco had expected him to look the same as he normally did. Potter was different though; not in any drastic way, but his cheeks were hollowed and his face gaunt, and he had heavy bags under his eyes. Nobody knew where Potter and his lackeys had disappeared to, but it certainly looked as though there had been a distinct lack of food and bedding wherever they had gone.
"You look like you've been busy," Draco commented about the room, raising an eyebrow. He had expected Potter to fight back, even though he had agreed to Draco's offer, but Potter really had been desperate. It was no matter though; he could soon break Potter down. And wouldn't that be a sight?
"Did Hermione get out?" Potter asked, eyes narrowing as though he expected Draco to answer that he had fooled him, and Granger was really downstairs, lifeless under Bellatrix's wand.
"She's free," Draco told Potter honestly, and Draco thought he saw relief send a spark of life into Potter's eyes.
"I want my wand back," Potter demanded, staring at Draco impatiently.
Draco scoffed. "I don't think you are in any positions to be making requests," he replied shortly, lip curling at Potter's expression. "I mean you no harm; I simply wish for you to be humiliated, in return for all the times you have done the same to me over the years. You will serve me and do as I say, and I will not turn you over to my aunt."
Potter nodded sullenly, and Draco didn't for one second take that nod as an acceptance of his duties.
"You may sleep at the foot of my bed, if you wish," Draco continued, gesturing to the large four poster bed in the centre of the room. It was long enough that Potter could sleep at the end of it, and Draco's feet would still not touch him; in fact, it was wide enough that Potter could sleep beside him and their bodies would still not touch, but Draco wasn't going to allow Potter actually into his bed.
"I don't want to sleep in your bed," Potter snarled, but his eyes betrayed him as they travelled longingly to the plush bed.
"It's that or the floor," Draco told Potter plainly, and in that moment, Draco saw Potter for the exhausted boy that he truly was.
Granted, the carpet beneath their feet was soft, but for a person who looked like they hadn't slept well for weeks, the offer of a bed would be undeniably tempting, no matter who it came from.
Potter sighed dejectedly, and stalked over to the bed, clambering on top of the covers and curling himself into a ball.
"I didn't mean right now," Draco said plainly; the sky was only just starting to dim into night, but Potter ignored him, his fingers playing with the corner of the bed covers.
Draco watched Potter, as the boy's eyelids fluttered open and shut, as though he were fighting off sleep. In that position, Draco thought Potter looked lost; the child who had been forced to fight an adult's war. Still, that didn't change how Draco felt about Potter; Potter's life in relation to the war was irrelevant to him; he just knew Potter from Hogwarts; as the spoilt teacher's pet who could get away with anything and everything.
When Potter finally looked like he was asleep, Draco bound his wrists to the bedpost, and cast a Sticking Charm on Potter and the bed for good measure; there were wards on his door as well, and even if Potter did manage to escape, the portraits in the corridor would surely see him and alert his parents or aunt, and then Potter really would be screwed, especially without a wand.
Potter really did look tired, Draco mused as he watched the other boy sleep. The exhaustion and worry was still etched onto his gaunt face, and his lank, messier than usual hair fell into his face.
Drawn out of his staring, Draco turned his nose up and chose a book, settling into an armchair to read. But even as his eyes studied page after page, he couldn't stop them from continuously glancing up to look at Potter. Draco told himself it was just because he was checking that Potter wasn't planning an escape attempt, but deep down, he knew that wasn't quite true.
The following morning, Draco awoke at seven am precisely. A faint shimmer of light was filtering through the curtains, and sent rays of sunshine streaking across the bed covers.
Draco felt something shift by his feet, and his eyes fell across the form curled at the end of his bed. He had forgotten Potter was there, but the sight sent a jolt running through his stomach.
Potter was asleep, though he did not look peaceful. His eyes were twitching, and his fingers were clenching tightly into the sheets.
He knew some people would question why Draco wanted to keep Potter captive in his room, but for Draco, it was really an opportunity he could never give up. Potter had embarrassed him by rejecting his friendship in their very first year at Hogwarts, and humiliated him on many occasions since; it was Potter's fault that Draco's mother had been unable to look at him for weeks in the summer before their sixth year. Not to mention the time Potter nearly killed him, although Snape had told Draco it had merely been Potter being incredibly stupid and casting a spell without knowing what it would do.
Draco got out of bed and readied himself, and after he returned from breakfast, Potter was still sleeping. That just wouldn't do, so Draco sent a Stinging Hex at Potter to wake him up.
Potter jolted upwards almost instantly, being yanked down roughly by the rope that bound him to the bedpost. His eyes studied the room in confusion at first, and then they landed on Draco and narrowed darkly.
"Malfoy," he hissed, spittle flying from his pale lips. He looked too tired to look threatening though, and Draco released the bindings and the Sticking Charm.
Potter immediately got to his feet, balling his hands into fists. His eyes were focused on Draco's wand, and he stood his ground, knowing he would have no chance when he was unable to use magic.
"My room is incredibly untidy thanks to you," Draco stated, gesturing to the mess that Potter had caused the night before. "You are to tidy it all and dust all my furniture by the time I return this evening."
"Don't you have a house-elf to do that?" Potter snarled, reminding Draco of yet another reason why Potter deserved this.
"Not anymore, thanks to you," Draco answered, smiling cruelly. "I will be back by four."
Draco left a fuming Harry Potter behind, and cast extra wards on his door, as well as locking it manually.
He went about his day, finding it surprisingly easy to pretend like he was just as confused and angry about the escaped prisoners as the rest of his family was.
His family had agreed that the Dark Lord was not to hear of their mistake, at least not until he questioned them at a future time. He would only torture them for it, but the Malfoys were far from the Dark Lord's favourite followers, and he didn't often come by their manor. The Dark Lord would come generally once a week, and would question them on their efforts, and when that time came, lying would be foolish. Draco presumed his father would take the full brunt of the punishment however, and that eased Draco's worries slightly.
When he finally returned to his room, Draco found it in even worse condition than before. His drawers had been emptied and thrown about, and the chairs had been kicked over. His window was smashed, and glass was scattered over the carpet. Potter was not in sight, but he could hear water running in the en-suite bathroom.
Draco stalked over, blinking as he took in the sight of Potter sitting on the floor of the shower, water running over his clothed form. The water ran red as it poured down the drain, and Draco could see splinters of glass sticking out of Potter's fingers.
Green eyes peered up at Draco, and Draco couldn't help but sneer at the slight redness in them.
"Punch my window, did you?" Draco drawled as way of greeting.
"Piss off," Potter snapped, but his voice broke slightly.
"Did you really think I would leave the window unprotected?" Draco commented, leaning over the other boy and shutting the water off. "And you didn't do as you were told."
"If you want your room tidying, do it yourself," Potter snarled, clutching his injured hand closer to his chest.
Draco opened his mouth to respond, but Potter's stomach growled, causing Draco to smirk.
He grasped Potter by the shoulder, and hauled him to his feet. Potter tried violently to shake Draco off, but Draco shoved him forwards until he stumbled out of the room.
"Pity you didn't obey me," Draco commented, kicking at some of the clothes on the floor. "I suppose you can manage without food."
Potter glared at Draco, and then a fist was in Draco's face, slamming into his nose.
Draco immediately clasped it, feeling blood coat his fingers.
"You'll pay for that," Draco hissed, grabbing hold of Potter and slamming him against the wall.
He pressed his wand to Potter's throat and leant in, panting heavily in Potter's ear.
"Don't. Touch. Me. Again," Draco ordered, slamming Potter against the wall with each word for good measure. "I could do anything to you. I could curse you, hand you over to my aunt or the Dark Lord; you'd do well to respect me."
"I'll never respect you," Potter growled, eyes filling with anger and pure loathing.
Draco's lip curled, and he loosened his grip.
"Better get your hand sorted," he sneered. "And don't expect to be sleeping on my bed tonight; the floor will do for disobedient filth like you."
"I didn't want it anyway," Potter retorted, scuffing his foot on the ground like a petulant child.
"You did last night," Draco stated plainly, raising an eyebrow, and Potter flushed darkly.
"I've not had a decent bed in months; you offered me a common luxury and I gave in to temptation," Potter reasoned, and Draco rolled his eyes.
Potter was going to be exhausting, but it would be worth it. Surely?
Three days went by, and Potter hadn't eaten once, or slept on a bed.
He ignored every order Draco gave him, even when Draco told him he had to sleep by the window, where shards of broken glass still lingered. Potter just pushed them to the side and slept beside them, much to Draco's displeasure.
Potter was looking worse for wear though, with the lack of food and sleep getting to him. Potter had been living rough for the last few months, but he hadn't been completely deprived.
Potter had dark bags under his eyes, his wrists were spindly, and his collar bone jutted out sharply. Draco had to admit that this was a shadow of Harry Potter, and it was not the boy that Draco knew.
He couldn't be seen to be weak and give in though. He wanted Potter to respect him, dammit, and it was proving more difficult than expected. Granted, he hadn't believed Potter to bend over and obey his every order right away, but this was getting ridiculous. All he had to do was hold out longer than Potter though, and then he would be in the clear.
On the third evening of Potter's imprisonment, Aunt Bellatrix invited Draco to the sitting room for some 'entertainment'. The woman had been distracted for the last couple of days, busy with the sword she was so obsessed with, but now she had finished with that, she was back to her usual source of fun, and normally she requested that the whole family join her.
This 'entertainment' generally involved a small group of Muggles, who would be tortured until their minds cracked, and then killed and their bodies disposed of.
"Come on, Draco," Bellatrix jeered, laughing maniacally as a violently trembling man tried to crawl away, being stopped by a quick hex. "Don't be afraid of the filthy Muggles."
Draco raised his wand, trying to hide the slight shakiness from his aunt. The man before him looked up, frightened, caught like a deer in headlights.
"Crucio!" he cast, and the Muggle curled into a ball, screaming as the torturous curse hit his body. The man writhed in agony, and Bellatrix was laughing gleefully in the background.
Draco was used to the sound, but it sent a horrid jolt running through his stomach each time, and he ceased the curse, unable to hold it any longer.
"Keep playing, Draco; the Muggles can take it. Crucio!" Bellatrix called, hitting the same man again, this time his screams piercing through the air and ringing in Draco's ears.
Bellatrix muttered an incantation Draco had never heard before, and then the man's skin was splitting open, gushing blood onto the floor.
Lucius stopped the Cruciatus curse he had been using on a female Muggle and ended her suffering in a flash of green light. Bellatrix always got carried away, and even his father thought so.
"Bellatrix," Narcissa warned her sister lightly, but his aunt waved her hand dismissively and carried on, casting the same curse on another man. "Draco, go to bed," his mother ordered, turning to Draco instead, and Draco nodded. He knew far better than to argue with his mother. He shared a look with his father, and then departed the room, the screams of the Muggles lingering in his mind.
As he opened the door to his room, Potter was sat in the middle of the floor, staring at him with wide eyes. Draco knew he must have heard all the screaming, and Potter was no idiot; he probably knew exactly what had been happening.
The worst thing was, Potter looked almost sympathetic, as if he somehow knew that Draco didn't enjoy his aunt's insane source of entertainment. He wasn't looking at Draco as though he hated him, and Draco thought perhaps he was just delirious from huger.
"Here," Draco said after a moment of staring back at Potter, and he went into one of the drawers by his bed; the only one he had tidied up, and threw Potter the bar of chocolate he kept in it, having received it as a present from Pansy recently. "Eat that; I can't have you starving to death on me, but seeing as you've still not tidied, you'll still be sleeping on the floor."
Despite being told his bed was still a floor, Potter looked thrilled at the prospect of food, and he only cast Draco a suspicious look briefly before wolfing the sweet treat down. Draco knew that Potter wouldn't have lost control like that normally, so he must have really been starving.
Draco went into the bathroom to get ready for bed, and as he emerged back into the bedroom, Potter had pulled back Draco's sheets for him, and had drawn the curtains.
"Thank you." Potter smiled at Draco, and then he curled up on the floor, shutting his eyes.
Draco felt his lips twitch upwards slightly at the sight of Potter's smile, and he shook his head. Casting such dark magic must have gone to his head.
The next couple of weeks, Potter actually started to do as he was told, making Draco's room tidy, dusting, folding Draco's clothes, and he had even started to run Draco his baths, at Draco's request, of course.
Draco should have been pleased at this, but he wasn't, because he knew it wasn't because Potter felt bullied by him; he did it because he felt sorry for Draco.
Aunt Bellatrix had had many Muggles round for torture, and each time, Potter heard their screams.
Every time Draco returned, Potter looked at Draco as though he wanted to reach out and hug him.
Draco wanted to punch Potter, and scream at him, and tell him that he loved torturing Muggles, and loved it when his aunt lost her grip on sanity and made the Muggle's last moments of life unbearable, but he couldn't. Because that wasn't true.
When he was younger, Draco had believed Muggles and Muggle-borns to be disgusting, and a threat to Wizarding-kind, and he thought the Dark Lord would get rid of them all and leave the magical community to those who deserved it. He still believed that to some degree; he thought Muggle-borns were a threat to revealing the Wizarding World to Muggles, and he didn't think that was a threat that would ever go away without getting rid of Muggle-borns from the magical world.
It was different though, when you were on the front line, watching people be tortured and killed just because of their blood, and it was different when you saw the Dark Lord for what he really was; a maniacal, yet genius, killing machine, whose own goals seemed to be set on his own immortality and the death of others, rather than improving life in the Wizarding World. The land his father had promised him as a child was nothing but a distant dream now, the fantasy destroyed by reality.
Draco remembered sneaking food down to the dungeons to Luna Lovegood and Ollivander every night so they wouldn't completely starve to death, and one night, when he only managed to get a bit of chicken, Luna told him she wouldn't eat it because she was vegetarian. She told Draco she didn't believe it was nice to eat animals, and Draco mused that while he was stuck in an organisation aimed at killing people who couldn't defend themselves, he could at least stop the mindless slaughter by ceasing to eat meat. Draco didn't think there were many vegetarian Death Eaters; it seemed an odd combination, really. It helped Draco though, and it would be enough until the Dark Lord was defeated; if he was defeated.
The worst part was, if the rumours were true, Potter was the only one who could stop the Dark Lord, and Draco didn't know how he felt about that.
In a weird way, he liked having Potter around. He was infuriating, and sometimes made Draco wonder why he had ever taken the dark-haired teen hostage, but it was an escape from the madness of his family.
The Dark Lord had discovered that their prisoners had escaped, and as expected, Lucius had paid the highest penalty. Since then, his father seemed more determined than ever to please the Dark Lord, even if that meant taking advice from Bellatrix.
"Draco?" Potter asked Draco one day; the use of his first name, Draco was sure, was done simply to irritate him. "How are you hiding me from Voldemort?"
"I'm not," Draco answered half-honestly. He wasn't actively hiding Potter from the Dark Lord, but he knew if he was caught harbouring Potter, he would be in for a lot of pain before his death. "The Dark Lord does not come to the manor often, and in past visits he has never visited the upper floors; he has no need to."
"You know he'd kill you if he caught me here, don't you?" Potter said seriously, giving Draco a warning look.
"I doubt it," Draco lied. "I could spin a tale of you sneaking into the manor, or something along those lines." As if the Dark Lord would fall for that. "You better be good if you want me to hide you from him though; I know all the secret passages and rooms in this manor."
"I thought you would have wanted me dead," Potter said quietly, green eyes boring into Draco's grey.
"No, Potter, I don't," Draco answered, just as quietly, and he didn't know who was more surprised.
As more time went by, Potter's presence seemed to be what Draco was used to now.
Potter looked somewhat healthier now, though he was still ridiculously skinny, with bones jutting out and cheeks hollowed, but nowhere near as bad as before. The bags under his eyes were gone, and his skin was less sickly pale.
Draco enjoyed the fact he could tell Potter what to do, and Potter would do it, just for the very basis that he felt bad for Draco having to deal with Bellatrix. While this wasn't the ideal reason that Draco wanted Potter to work by, it was better than nothing. Draco enjoyed telling Potter what to do, and he had started playing up the poor, traumatised nephew card that seemed to spur Potter on.
At the end of the day though, he was still Harry Potter, and he still came back with snarky comments, and hadn't lost that fiery temper of his. That said, Potter seemed to be getting used to Draco as well, because his temper had lessened, and he seemed genuinely grateful whenever Draco gave him any basic necessities; and any luxuries that he occasionally rewarded Potter with were received with great happiness.
Recently, Potter had changed his attitude towards Draco again. Draco had kept to his word, and allowed Potter to sleep on his bed whenever he behaved. They normally kept their distance in Draco's large bed, but lately, Draco had been waking up to find Potter curled around his legs.
And oddly, Draco found he didn't mind Potter hugging him. In fact, Draco rather enjoyed the comfort. His only girlfriend had been Pansy Parkinson, and the incessant contact from her had been rather annoying, but this with Potter, this was…nice.
And it wasn't just the sleep hugging. Potter seemed to be much more touchy, even if it was just simple actions like laying his hand on Draco's shoulder, or running his fingers against Draco's as if he wanted to hold his hands but got too afraid at the last second.
Draco had even started to reciprocate these actions; light touches against Potter's skin, running his fingers lightly through the inky hair whenever Potter sat by his feet, ghosting his fingers over the sharp bones on Potter's wrist. Draco found the sensation of feeling Potter's bones sent a pleasant shiver running through the boy, and Draco wished he could trail his fingertips over that jutting collar bone.
Draco wondered just how far he could get, and when thoughts like that happened, he wondered if he had been caught at the end of a Confundus Charm. He knew he was attracted to men as well as women, but Potter was someone he could never be attracted to. Surely?
So why was it Draco kept finding his eyes staring at Potter? He was meant to be keeping Potter prisoner and humiliating him, not flirting with him.
Potter was in front of him now, resting against Draco's legs as the blond read in his favourite armchair. Draco halted his fingers, which had been running through Potter's hair unconsciously. Potter made a noise as the sensation stopped, and he turned to face Draco, looking up at him with those ridiculously green eyes of his.
Draco's trousers started to tighten uncomfortably, and he felt mortified as Potter glanced down, and then returned his sight to Draco, giving him a knowing smirk.
Damn it! Why couldn't he be better than Potter for once? All he had wanted was to put Potter in his place, but the dark haired boy had beaten him yet again. He had taken everything Draco had thrown at him in stride, did it all for reasons opposite of what Draco wanted, and had the nerve to look at Draco as if he knew just that.
"Well, Potter." Draco smirked, determined to keep one up on Potter. "I think you've had things nice and easy around here so far; why don't we change that?"
Potter narrowed his eyes, in a mixture of anger and confusion.
"I'm not wanking you off, if that's what you mean," Potter retorted, casting another glance at the bulge in Draco's trousers.
"No, your mouth will do," Draco replied smoothly, trying not to show his glee when Potter's mouth dropped open. His cheeks glared bright red, and suddenly he couldn't look Draco in the eyes anymore.
"I'm not giving you a blowjob," Potter said firmly, his eyes still focused on the floor.
"Oh I think you are," Draco re-affirmed, unbuckling his belt buckle and rubbing his erection through his underwear.
"But I've never…" Potter muttered, voice so low Draco had to strain to hear it.
Was that really Potter's problem? Not that he had to suck Draco off, but that he didn't know how to do it?
"You and Weasley never get each other off then?" Draco mocked, but there was no harsh tone in his voice.
Potter glared at him.
"No," Potter spat, but then his eyes fell on Draco's cock, and the emerald orbs seemed to light up with lust.
Draco, who had been lazily fisting his erection, ceased his motion, and looked at Potter, and then down to his cock.
"On your knees," Draco ordered, and to his surprise, Potter complied, kneeling in between Draco's legs. "Hands behind your back."
This time Potter didn't obey.
"If you're going near my cock, I'm not letting you have free reign of your hands," Draco told Potter, making the other boy roll his eyes.
"I've been held prisoner in your room for weeks; I could have attacked you at any time and I didn't. It wasn't like I was waiting for you to tell me to suck your cock so I could bite it off and make some mad dash to escape."
"Hands behind your back," Draco repeated, making Potter roll his eyes again, but he did as he was told that time, pressing his bony wrists together behind his back, and making no reaction when Draco cast a Binding Charm around them. "Get to it, then."
Potter sighed, the redness returning to his cheeks. He lowered his head, but his mouth remained firmly shut.
Draco wanted to scream. He was achingly hard, with absolutely no form of release at the given second, but he still found Potter's shyness adorable. What the hell was wrong with him?
He emitted a gasp as wet warmth descended on his cock, and his fingers instantly wound into the inky strands on Potter's head.
Potter tentatively darted a tongue out to lick at the head, and his mouth sucked, steadily moving down the length of his cock.
Potter's movements were slow and unsure, but his mouth was sinfully delicious.
Potter's mouth was full of Draco's cock, his cheeks sunk deep into his face as he sucked Draco hard, and his pale lips were stretched wide.
Draco's fingers were wound in Potter's hair, pushing Potter's head down with each suck. He could feel the pressure building up, and he pulled out of Potter's mouth, holding Potter's head in place as he enclosed his hand around his cock and stroked it furiously until he came, releasing over Potter's lips and chin.
Draco leaned back, satisfied, into his chair. Yes, he could get used to this.
Potter was surprisingly good at blowjobs, once he got used to the technique.
Once a day, Draco would put Potter on his knees between Draco's legs, tying Potter's hands behind his back. The small bit of rope around Potter's skin allowed Draco control, and finally gave him a way to get one up on Potter.
Potter had offered to suck him off after he came back from an 'entertainment' session of Bellatrix's, and Draco had found it a good way to let off the feelings that built inside him whenever he returned from them.
It was strange; Potter was his prisoner, but they seemed to have built up a routine. Potter had been there for nearly a month now, and Draco wasn't sure that he actually ever wanted Potter to leave; whether that was by letting him free, or turning him over to the Dark Lord.
The Dark Lord was becoming a problem though. He had been furious after Potter's apparent escape, and the Malfoys had truly gone down in the ranks of the Death Eaters.
The Dark Lord still seemed suspicious, and Draco was very thankful that Aunt Bellatrix had taught him Occlumency.
Occlumency skills or not, that didn't stop Draco writhing in agony under the Cruciatus Curse, screaming as pain overtook him. The Dark Lord was still angry that they hadn't atoned for their mistakes; the only way they could, according to the Dark Lord, was by finding Potter again. The task would have been near to impossible, had Draco not been harbouring Potter in his room, but the Dark Lord didn't care; he had set Draco the impossible task of killing Dumbledore, after all.
The curse stopped, but Draco still felt no relief, with every limb and joint aching.
He shared a glance with his father as the Dark Lord dismissed him; he'd had been tortured as a way to punish his father rather than him, but Lucius was in for physical punishment as well as psychological; he didn't envy his father right now.
Draco walked on shaky limbs back to his room, and Potter's eyes were wide and full of worry. Nobody bothered with Silencing Charms in the manor, and Draco knew his screams would have carried through the hallways and up to his room.
Potter rubbed at his scar, screwing his face up as he examined Draco.
"What did you do to piss off Voldemort?" Potter asked, his voice sounding distant.
Draco wondered if Potter thought perhaps the Dark Lord had discovered Draco was holding Potter hostage in his room, but Potter would be dead before Draco would be tortured for that.
"It's not the first time," Draco answered, not caring to go into details with Potter. He had been under the Cruciatus Curse at the Dark Lord's hand many times, and though it ached afterwards, it was bearable.
"Do you have any potions for the pain?" Potter asked, and he actually sounded concerned; why would Potter care if Draco was in pain?
"It's not bad," Draco said dismissively. Potter looked at him as though he was unsure, and it sent an odd shiver running down his spine at the sight of Potter actually looking as though he cared for Draco. "Orgasms help," Draco added, half-jokingly, producing a weak smirk.
"Do you want me to suck you off?" Potter asked quietly, already getting to his knees.
"Stand up," Draco ordered, and the other boy looked at him questionably as he clambered to his feet.
Draco ignored Potter and tugged him by the wrist, dragging him to the bed and pushing him on to it.
"I want to fuck you," Draco said, and Potter's eyes widened comically.
Draco hadn't planned on ever sleeping with Potter; his mouth was decent enough, but Draco hadn't counted on Potter being so caring, so genuine. Half of him wanted to lay Potter down and take the boy gently, but the other half of him wanted to dominante Potter; to screw him into the mattress. Why did Potter have to bring up all these conflicting feelings in him all the time? Every time he thought he had beaten Potter, the dark haired teen proved him wrong, and it was driving Draco mad.
Currently, Potter looked as though he was finally beneath Draco, but who knew how long that would last.
"I don't…" Potter mouthed, and he didn't look as though he knew what he wanted. "I've never, and you're not…"
"I'm not a rapist," Draco said honestly; he would never sink to that, even with Potter. "But you've suffered the Cruciatus Curse under the Dark Lord's wand, haven't you? You must understand how angry it makes you, at how powerless you are, and how weak and how rotten you feel inside afterwards."
Draco didn't really feel that way; not entirely, at least, but it seemed to work. Potter's face lightened slightly, though he was still chewing on his lower lip, and his eyes were still wide.
"It hurts, doesn't it?" Potter said, making no objection as Draco gathered his bony wrists above his head and bound rope around them, looping the other end around the bedposts.
"Yes," Draco answered, giving Potter a smirk. "Didn't think you'd be scared of a bit of pain, Potter."
"I'm not," Potter replied quickly. "Excuse me for being a bit apprehensive about taking your cock up my arse!"
Potter shivered as Draco vanished their clothes with a wave of his wand, and Draco knew it wasn't because Potter was cold.
Potter didn't have the greatest of bodies; he had hipbones jutting out, and the outline of his ribs were visible, but Draco would rather than a partner too skinny than too fat.
Draco cast a Silencing Charm around the bed; he had a feeling they would need it. He should have really cast one of the whole room, but he was on top of Potter, and he didn't much feel like leaving.
"Don't be tense; it will hurt more," Draco stated off-handily, as he reached into the drawer by his bed to bring out some lubricant. He quickly coated his fingers, and pushed one inside of Potter.
Potter squirmed slightly, and when Draco pushed another finger into Potter, he made a murmured noise.
"You try not being fucking tense," Potter said through gritted teeth, and Draco rolled his eyes. Draco had slept with men before, both on top and bottom, and he was sure neither he, nor anyone he had slept with, had acted this way. Still, Potter was one to want to emulate masculinity; a very Gryffindor trait, Draco had noticed.
Draco scissored his fingers, ignoring Potter's feeble complaints, and forced in another. Potter's fingers curled into the sheets beneath him, clenching the fabric hard.
Seeing Potter like this, tied to Draco's bed, shivering with anticipation, and just open to Draco to fuck was a sight Draco would never forget. Draco had never been this turned on before, and it was taking all his restraint not to bury himself balls-deep in Potter's tight arse.
Draco held back a groan, coating his erection in lubricant. He removed his fingers from Potter's hole, and pressed the head of his cock against it. He pushed in slowly, feeling the ring of muscle stretch around his cock.
He pushed forwards until his cock was sheathed fully in Potter's arse.
Potter was so tight and warm, and Merlin, Draco was in bliss. He pulled out and thrust back in, building up his pace now that Potter had gotten used to the stretch.
Potter was groaning, fingers playing with the bed sheets, but then Draco hit his prostate, and Potter let out a shout of exclamation, and his leg lifted up, wrapping around Draco's waist.
And fuck, that made it even easier to slide into Potter, easier to fuck him deeper and harder. Draco pounded in and out of Potter's slick, warm hole, fucking him with abandoned fury. His hands were grasping at Potter's skinny hips, gripping hard enough that it was sure to leave bruises.
How could Draco have never considered this before now? Potter was just so…fucking perfect, and Potter was there, willing to take Draco's cock, and he was taking everything Draco dished out. Potter had been a virgin, at least to receiving anal sex, but he never made any complaint against the rough treatment Draco was giving to him.
Draco thrust more wildly as he felt the release building inside him, and he reached a hand between their slick, sweaty bodies, grasping Potter's cock and stroking it in time to his thrusts. Potter let out a strangled yell as he released into Draco's hand, and Draco wasn't far behind, spilling his release inside Potter's body.
Bells inside Draco's head were ringing, telling him he was getting into dangerous territory, but he couldn't find it in him to care anymore.
Click here for part two.