'Phantom of Mine' Von aj_socks 

Fest Fic: Phantom of Mine - Harry/Draco, Lucius/Draco (R)

Summary: Two years after the war, Draco isolated himself inside the Manor with only his Father and a ghost for company. But when Harry Potter shows up, everything begins to unravel.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction. All characters and settings belong to JK Rowling.

There were moments that Draco wanted to shout a string of angry curses at the gravestone, but his Mother stood next to him with a sad expression that acted like a pail of chilled water. The wind picked up and his hair flew into his eyes. Before he could brush the stray hairs away, his mother reached up and did it for him. Her hand lingered by his ear and she watched him with sad eyes that made him frown and look away from her. He moved away from the woman who had lost her husband.

“You look just like him,” she said. Her voice was almost too low to hear through the rustle of the leaves so Draco pretended he didn't hear and kept his eyes on the ground. “You look just like him,” she repeated, this time louder.

Draco didn't say anything, he stayed where he was long after Narcissa touched his arm and told him she was going back to the Manor. He stared down at the headstone that had his Father's name engraved in thick letters and the loose dirt in front of it. The wind caressed his face and tugged stray hairs into his face. Leaves crunched behind him, but Draco didn't stir; he didn't react when arms reached around him and embraced him from behind.

“Liar,” Harry replied. He sighed and continued, “you're wondering if he was proud.”

Draco turned around and tried to keep his eyes on the dark stubble on Harry's chin, but Harry didn't let him. His chin was pushed gently up and his eyes met Harry's, whose eyes burned with barely concealed impatience.

Draco shook his head. He pulled away from Harry, but kept his eyes on the other man. “No,” Draco said. “I don't. I don't care if he was proud of me, or is still proud of me while he burns in hell. I don't care.”

“Yes you do. Even though you shouldn't. That man was disgusting. I'm not stupid, Draco. I've known you for years and you still act like his opinion matters more than your own.”

“You've only known me for barely over a month.”

“Hardly. The most you knew about me then was that I had a pointy chin.” Draco shifted his weight and tapped the ground with his foot. “You don't even know what really happened.”

“Do you really? I'll write a book for you.”

“Prat. I'm serious. You wouldn't tell me much before.”

“That's because you're Harry Potter and I'm Draco Malfoy.”

Draco rolled his eyes and said, “Fine then. You want to know what happened? You want to know all the dirty little secrets of the past two years?”

“No,” Harry replied. “I just want to understand.”

“You. Why you are still standing out here. Why you never said anything.”

Draco hesitated, he stared down at the pebbles and dirt littering the ground and took a deep breath. When he looked back up, he found Harry's eyes and said, “Fine. I will show you. You want to know everything? Go ahead.” He licked his lips and smirked. “Violate me, Harry Potter.”

Harry shook his head. “Shut up... Come here.”

Draco took a step forward so that they were almost touching. He felt the heat from Harry's forehead, and as Draco whispered the spell, Harry squeezed his hand. Draco wondered briefly if he understood what Harry wanted to understand. There was one thing he did know: when Harry entered his life, it was the beginning of the end.

Diagon Alley wasn't the same as it had been when he was a child; the war had changed the shops and the faces were different. The wizards and witches passing him were not gigantic anymore; instead, the boys and girls picking up their first wands were like Dwarves. Each muggle child was awed by the street's magnificence, of it's strange nature, so different than their own culture yet unbearably similar. He could pick out the pureblood children by their reaction to the older wizards, by their awe of the people and the magic rather than the environment. Nine years ago, Draco Malfoy had reacted the same way; had seen the world as more than it was – majestic and full of possibilities. Only it wasn't. There were no possibilities, no magnificence, no strange power lurked these streets – it was only an illusion, a result of rose-colored glasses.

Draco stared down Diagon Alley and ignored the angry glares he received. Two years since the war ended and nothing had changed for the better, nor for the worse. When he was young, he saw those looks to be ones of respect, not loathing. It was the rose-colored glasses, he suspected, that had made him think that way. Now, he wore designer sunglasses to hide his face from the crowd, as if they would make him invisible.

A giggle erupted from the transparent boy floating next to him and it broke Draco's

concentration. Draco huffed and made his way through the crowd toward the street that would lead him to Knockturn Alley. The boy followed him closely, he passed through random people and giggled every time he did. As they rounded the corner, Draco spun around and tried to reach for him, but his hand passed through the ghost.

“Nope.” He grinned. “Play with me. I'm bored.”

“Yes you can. I've been telling you -”

“And I've been telling you to stop terrorizing me!” Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw an elderly wizard with a top hat stop talking and turn to look at him with a raised eyebrow. He looked from Draco to where the ghost was, then back to Draco. Draco's cheeks turned bright red and he ran down the alley and turned a corner. “I told you not to talk to me while we're in public, especially since you insist on being invisible. Did you see the look he gave me?”

“He can't see you!” Draco shook his head and took a deep breath. “I'm going to go get the unicorn tears, you stay here or go away. I don't care which, Brandon.”

Brandon stuck his tongue out and floated down the alley in front of Draco. He flew through the corner of the building before disappearing completely from Draco's view, and for a moment the silence sent shivers down Draco's back. Draco sighed and walked to Borgin and Burkes, he pushed past a group of Slytherin students that looked comfortable in Knockturn alley, and when he entered the store, he was shocked to find that Borgin was not there.

“Who are you?” Draco asked the young, chubby man. His curly hair barely made him tall enough to reach Draco's shoulder and his cheeks were bright red like Santa Clause. He wore dark robes with no markings and his wand was held tightly at his side. Next to the short man was an abnormally tall, bald man with a red beard. He was boney, his jaw was rigid and lines creased his face.

“Malfoy?” The shorter man said, his entire face seemed to lift with his eyebrows and as he turned to face Draco he lifted his wand. “What are you doing here?”

Brandon appeared at his side, but neither wizard reacted to his presence except Draco, who followed Brandon's movements with his eyes. He floated above the tall man and giggled and made bunny ears on top of his head. When Brandon lost interest in the tall man and floated down to the shorter man, Draco stared at him. He looked at the lines on his cheeks that didn't seem quite right, almost like they were forced into his skin. Something about him was familiar and when Brandon passed through him and a light breeze ruffled his jacket, Draco froze. There, in the fat man's robes, was an Auror badge. Draco spun on his heel and shoved the door open. He bolted and ignored the fat man's protest and Brandon flew next to him.

“You think you're going to get arrested? Unicorn tears are illegal, but you don't really have any yet. Oh, wait, that's right. You're still on probation. They'd probably arrest you just because they can. You should just give up now. I bet they're going to catch you. They've already seen you.”

Draco swung his arm out and it passed through Brandon without leaving a mark. He heard heavy footsteps behind him and a voice call out his name. Draco looked back for a moment, but didn't see the Auror, and suddenly he collided with another man. They fell together, Draco rolled off to the side and slammed into the brick wall.

“Malfoy, wait!” The fat man's voice made him shudder, his stomach balled into a tight fist, he felt sick, and Draco's vision swam. He shook his head and closed his eyes, and when he reopened them, the street was fine. Draco's breaths came in short spurts, his lungs were tight and his heart pounded against his chest.

But as the footsteps grew louder, Draco forced himself to stand up and stumbled into Diagon Alley, completely ignoring the wizard he ran into. Draco saw the sign for the Leaky Cauldron and hurried toward it. He pushed through the witches and wizards on the streets and knocked over a small child before he finally made it to the building. He ignored the glares that came his way and went straight for the floo, he grabbed a handful of floo powder and shouted: “Malfoy Manor!”

When he arrived in the large foyer, Draco collapsed to his knees, his chest felt like it was about to split in half. Brandon appeared next to him and put his nose no more than one inch away from Draco's cheek. Draco wanted to push him away, but his body felt heavy and his black spots were splattered across his vision. He didn't know how long he remained on the floor, but when he felt good enough to stand the sun was barely visible over the horizon. The windows had dirty smudges on them; dust had settled around the room and it was bare. The elaborate paintings Draco remembered disappeared soon after the war, the tapestries his Mother adored were gone with her to Italy. There were no more house elves in the Malfoy Manor to clean and keep him company.

Draco walked over to the window and used his sleeve wipe the smudges away, only to realize they were from the outside, as if someone was watching with his fingertips pressed against the glass. Brandon was suddenly there, imitating a stalker and he stuck his tongue out at Draco. He reached for his wand, but there was nothing there.

“What is it?” Brandon asked as he stuck his head back through the window. “Did you drop your wand when you were running?”

Draco cursed and hid his face with his hands. His head pounded and his eyes and face burned. Brandon continued to float next to him; the smile on his face made Draco cry out, he tried to push the boy away, but his hands went through him.

Draco nodded and picked himself up. His shoulders slumped forward as he walked, and his eyes stayed on the ground. It had been the same for two years. Two years in this manor, doing the same things over and over, cooking meals the house elves should have cooked, cleaning the Manor, keeping his family sane while Brandon hovered over him. Lucius didn't know, he couldn't see the little boy next to Draco's shoulder when he walked into the room. But he was there. Always there.

The next morning Draco woke up with a migraine he imagined was due to the fact that Brandon was singing on top of his handcrafted dresser. Draco glared at him as he got ready for the day, he tried everything to block out the sound, but earplugs did not even lessen the noise. No amount of threats and screams helped either.

Draco watched his father walk down the stairs and just as he got to the end, Lucius cocked at eyebrow at him. He ran his hand through Draco's hair and smiled. “Your hair looks terrible.”

“I think I'm just going to gel it back.”

Lucius nodded. “Do so quickly. It looks far too similar to Harry Potter. Draco, have you gained weight?”

Draco's face scrunched up and he shrugged as he brushed his hand through his hair. He went back upstairs to his bathroom with Brandon trailing behind him humming. The gel worked quickly, and as he looked at himself in the mirror, Draco thought back to his first day at Hogwarts, when he first met Harry Potter and his two goons. He remembered looking in the mirror with a proud excitement, that he was soon going to get a wand and meet new people.

He didn't pretend that he was good at making a good first impression. Even Pansy and Blaise, who had known him since he was three, were quick to point out his ego was the first thing most people saw. It was a blessing in disguise that hardly anyone saw him anymore, Draco thought.

“Draco,” Brandon said, a grin on his face. “There's someone at the window for you.”

“Someone?” Draco answered. He heard a soft pecking noise, and when he got to the window, a snow white owl hovered right outside. It reminded him briefly of Potter's owl, but then he reminded himself that owl had died and he breathed out. He opened the window and the owl perched itself on the windowsill with a letter clutched in it's claws. Draco took and it and frowned at the messy scrawl on the cover with his name on it and opened it.

Draco's breath caught in his throat and he crumpled up the paper and threw it across the room. Tremors shook his body and the urge to grab his wand became too great, yet there was no wand to grab, and Draco's hand stayed at his hip. He moved toward the door, but the owl flew in front of him and screeched.

“I think he wants an answer,” Brandon said. He snickered. “You'd better write that Potter fellow back.”

“I don't want to write him back. Get out of my way you blasted bird!” Draco swatted at the owl, but as his hand pulled back, Potter's owl flew forward and pecked his shoulder. Draco shrieked and jumped back, he grabbed his shoulder and reached again for his wand. Draco cursed and ducked as the bird swooped over him. He covered his head and shouted, “I'll write a letter!”

The owl perched himself back on the windowsill and cocked it's head to the side. Draco cursed under his breath and eyed the bird as he scrambled to his desk to grab a piece of parchment. He took a deep breath and wrote:

Draco hesitated before folding it over and putting it inside an envelope. He knew that his Father was leaving within the hour, and so long as Potter was not that close by, he shouldn't get the letter before Draco was alone. As Draco gave the owl the letter, he prayed that Potter would be off on some mission with his Auror team.

The fact that Potter had become an Auror was no surprise to the Wizarding world, but it was to Draco. When he read the headline, Draco shook his head at the picture of the Boy-Who-Lived and his future bride because, if anything, Harry Potter was the last person qualified to take on a job as an Auror. He had too much at stake in that job, too many personal issues with the former Death Eaters on the run. Draco had long believed that people involved in the problem shouldn't be the ones to find the solution, because they were biased in some way. Whether it be because of love or hate, the bias was always apparent in the decision.

And yet, it was impossible to resist trying. Draco knew that too well; he looked over at Brandon as he floated next to him and he felt his chest tighten. The memory of that night was burned in his brain as a vivid picture. Every bead of sweat gleamed in his mind; every drop that fell onto the bed and stuck to his Father's long hair.

It was a few weeks before the war ended. Draco walked down the halls of the manor next to Severus, who kept his eyes up toward his destination while Draco walked a step behind him, with his eyes cast down. He never thought he was short, however, standing next to Severus made him feel like a young child again. Severus towered over him in the same way his Father did, with his nose up high. Draco wondered idly if fellow students thought the same of him back at Hogwarts, where he imitated Severus and his father when he walked through the halls. It should be the same here. This was his home, not his school, he should be walking with his head held high like his former Professor.

“Draco,” Severus stopped and turned toward him. “I must go speak with our Lord. I believe your Father wanted to speak with you. He's in his bedroom.”

Draco nodded and watched Snape continue down the hall. Later, he suspected that his discovery had been Severus' intent long before that night. The various tasks he was sent on involved his Father in obscure ways from fetching a book and giving it to him to delivering a simple message that could have waited until that night. Either way, when he got to his Father's door this time, he heard his Father grunt, and for a split second Draco was sure his Father needed his help.

“Father!” Draco burst through the door and stopped dead in his tracks. On the bed, his father was bent over a young child with blond hair, he thrust forward once more, then pulled out of the boy. The boy's eyes were squeezed shut and dark bruises marred his pale skin. The bruises were everywhere – all over his back, especially around his hips, and Draco noticed several yellow bruises around the purple ones. Dark red marks littered his body like rose buds in the form of teeth and his entire body trembled next to Lucius.

It was peculiar, how vivid a memory can be while the events are fuzzy because everything happened in a flash. Draco remembered crying out, he remembered rushing forward, but somehow, in the next instant, blood splattered onto his cheek and stained his new robes. The child took his last breath and it was like Draco had died inside, and he would later swear a piece of him was destroyed in that moment. His Father was next to him, his naked body blocked the child from Draco's paralyzed stare, and in the next instant, Draco was wailing into his Father's shoulder.

“Shhh, Draco.” His father whispered. And Draco felt his heart swell and a weight come down on his shoulders.

“Why?” Suddenly, as he spoke, Draco was very aware of his Father's hot body against him and he pulled away, tears still blurred his vision. “Why were you - “

“That's all you have to say?” When he looked at his Father, Draco saw the pain in his eyes and something else, another emotion that made him look past his Father at the child that looked almost exactly like he did.

Draco thought of the candy his Father used to send him, but he always claimed was from his Mother. He remembered times when he was learning to ride his broom that his Father was too close; times when Lucius would turn bright red and excuse himself. He thought of his Father's hugs and quick kisses that were innocent, yet made his stomach curl at the thought of him doing those things to another child for different reasons.

It was a whirlwind after that. He kept a close eye on his Father to make sure another child wasn't hurt, but once more he saw Lucius get too close to a blond child. Then, he knew. After the war, he could turn his Father in and bring another reason for people to hate his family, or take care of it himself. The first was not an option. Draco knew how the Ministry worked, he knew it would not be about the children that died and were abused and the trial would quickly become a playground for anyone who wanted to destroy the Malfoy name completely. His name was all he had left – it was attached to everything he had in his present, and everything he would give his children.

And, although Draco wanted to hate him, despise a man that would destroy a child for himself, he couldn't. A part of him looked at his Father and saw the man he looked up to. A man that stood out among the crowd, the sort of man he desired to become.

So, he went to his Father's library and researched until he found it. De-aging potions were not common, most required some illegal ingredient and were difficult to produce. However, Draco was a quick study under Snape throughout his years under his watchful gaze, and acquiring illegal ingredients was difficult but not impossible.

He was blunt with his Father the first time he came home to find his son as a ten year old. Draco saw him react immediately, and he felt his heart swell when he saw Lucius turn away from him and cover his mouth.

“Draco, go to your room.” Lucius said, his cheeks were flushed and he turned to the side.

Brandon appeared next to him then with an infuriating lopsided grin and Draco knew then that he couldn't leave his Father. “You didn't save me,” Brandon whispered into Draco's ear. “Don't you think this is what you deserve? It's all your fault.”

Draco didn't reply. He simply walked up to his Father and realized how small he used to be as he looked up at his Father.

“I can't.” He whispered as Brandon's ghost giggled next to him.

Potter came when Lucius wasn't home to Draco's relief, but the moment he stepped through the floo Draco stood up and kept his back pressed against the door. He looked different than usual. His auror robes were pressed and lacked the usual scruffs from the photographs in The Prophet.

Potter's face scrunched up and shook his head. “I heard you were a bit ruder than when you were at Hogwarts, but that was a bit overboard, don't you think?”

“No. You're an auror on duty in my home. Give me whatever you have and leave the manor. What? Was this a trick to make sure there's nothing else your precious Ministry wants to take from us?”

“I will not calm down! Just give me whatever it is that you came to give and get out.” Draco's voice rose an octave as he spoke, and he fought to keep his breathing slow, but adrenaline pulsed through his body and behind him Brandon floated. He swore he saw Potter's eyes flutter up at Brandon, and for a horrifying moment, Draco thought he could see Brandon.

“Look, just come to lunch with me and I'll give it to you.”

“Yeah, it's between Breakfast and Dinner, you know it?”

“Don't be a prat, of course I know what it is. Why are you asking me to lunch? Is this some auror trick?”

Potter scoffed. “Paranoid much? I'm off duty, actually. Got half the day off and no, it's not an auror trick. When you ran into me yesterday, I couldn't help but think you were an attractive bloke. Of course, that was before I recognized your wand.”

Draco pursed his lips together and his eyes narrowed at the other man. Behind him, Brandon rested his head on his shoulder and said, “You should go out with him.”

“No,” Draco muttered between clenched teeth. He saw Harry's brows furrow together and confusion and he chuckled. “Uh, well, give it to me.”

“No can do. I promised myself I'd get a date with whoever owned that arse and unfortunately for both of us, I don't back off my promises.”

“Are you doing something that needs to be investigated? If not, then I see no reason not to go to lunch with me.”

“The fact that I hate you is enough of a reason for me. Now give me my wand.”

“It's just lunch. I swear this is not a trick and it has nothing to do with my job.”

Harry scratched the back of his head and his glasses slid down his nose. “How do you want me to prove it?”

“Tell him to kiss you!” Brandon said, his small body bounced up and down and in the next moment, he was the size of Draco's hand and sat on his shoulder. “I bet he won't do it.”

Draco shrugged, the movement bumped Brandon off his shoulder. “Okay. Kiss me then.”

Harry's lips were pressed against his before Draco had time to react. Even Brandon was shocked to silence with his mouth hanging open. Draco didn't move his lips and honestly, neither did Harry, but his lips were cool compared to Draco's own. When Harry moved away, Draco instinctively leaned forward.

Draco cleaned his throat and looked away. “One hour. That's it.”

“That's how you remember our first kiss?” Harry asked with a grin. He grabbed Draco's hand and pulled him flush against his chest. “No sparks? No fire deep within your – well, cock?”

Draco chuckled. “No. Just cold. Why?” He saw Harry's cheeks brighten with a red hue and his smile stretched across his face. “We hated each other back then. Were you harboring homosexual feelings for me since Hogwarts or are you just a silly romantic?”

“That's classified information, sir.” Harry kissed him and when he pulled away, his eyes studied Draco, his face, his eyes.

“You have laugh lines.” Harry grabbed Draco's hand. “Come on. Let's go home.”

Draco nodded and after a quick goodbye to his Mother, they went to Harry's apartment. It was messy and there was dust around the photo frames and dishes stacked beside the sink. He itched to clean it; he almost felt like he had to, but he didn't. He looked over his shoulder, but no one was there.

“Looking for Brandon?” Harry asked as he threw his jacket over the couch. “You said his name at the hospital. The nurse said -”

“I know what the nurse said. She was wrong.”

“Are you sure? Look, we don't have to talk about this -”

“And now you're wrong. We need to talk about it. I need to tell you. When we went to lunch the first time, I honestly didn't believe you and actually, if you had shown me a way to hurt you I would have taken it. That was the reason I went the second time, but not the third.” Draco scoffed and sat down on the green couch. In front of him was a television. “You're infuriating, you know that don't you?”

“Hermione likes to remind me.” Harry sat down next to him, but while Draco leaned forward with his elbows resting on his legs, Harry slouched back. With one hand, he rubbed small circles into Draco's lower back. “Do you want to go to sleep?”

Draco sighed and grabbed Harry's hand. He squeezed it tightly and closed his eyes, he wandered back to their third date. It was the first time he had went out without fear. The aurors had ransacked their home after the war, they had treated them poorly, and although Draco never saw Harry as the type to manhandle him, the fear was still present. That is, until the third date. Draco felt Harry's mind touch his own, and he let himself go back to that night.

Harry looked around at the crowded Italian restaurant as they walked in at the beginning of their third date and asked, “I finally got you out a third time and this is where you want to eat?”

Draco smirked and looked around the crowded Italian restaurant. “I don't see anything wrong with this place. It's muggle, so no reporters, and it's just low key.”

“It might be low key,” Harry said just as he glanced at the menu. “But it's definitely not low priced.”

“You took me to a cafe the first time, then to a fast food place. I cannot believe you eat that on a regular basis. I know you're not poor.”

“I don't need to spend money just because I have it.”

“I used to come here with my parents every year for my birthday, but it was more for my parents. Mum liked the view and my Father liked that he was treated like royalty. I just liked the food.” Draco looked out the window at the view of the city far away. The lights from the buildings twinkled like stars under the moon. Somehow, the restaurant was dirty. When he called, the manager was so excited that he promised to have their table ready by the time he arrived and raved about how happy he was to have a Malfoy back after so long. Draco was surprised he remembered him, especially after three years. He was sitting where his Father usually sat, and Harry was in the empty seat next to his seat by the window.

“Why this table?” Harry asked. “There's a table for two right over there.”

Draco shrugged and didn't mention it to him. “I don't know. Maybe they thought we needed extra room.”

“Yes. I spent an entire year in Italy when I was four to help learn the language. My Mum and I were learning together.”

“Everyone knows that. Hermione tried to teach me French and she gave up after a few weeks. Apparently I'm only good at capturing the bad guys.”

“I'm sure you're good at something else.”

Draco looked across the room and saw Brandon floating next to a small child. He looked like he was trying to talk to a child with his face covered in red sauce. Draco's stomach rumbled, he brought his hand up to his lips and covered them. He felt bile rise in his throat and quickly looked up to the sky and tried to keep himself from throwing up.

“Draco nodded, he swallowed deeply and took a deep breath. “Yeah, I just feel sick all of a sudden. I'm going to go.”

Draco stood up and he felt tired, as if he were about to fall over. His head was fuzzy, the room wasn't as clear and his entire body was hot. He took his first step, out of the corner of his eye he saw Harry stand up, and then, his vision went from the door to the floor. He didn't remember getting there, the next instant Harry was there beside him, shouting his name. Harry's arms were around him, his tight embrace was comforting. He coughed, and sat up and rubbed his temples.

“I need to go home.” But as Draco tried to stand up, his legs shook and he noticed what his Father had been talking about. He was bigger. His stomach was bloated, his hands were swollen.

“I need to get home. My Father – He's coming back tomorrow.”

“No,” Harry said. “You're coming with me. Come on.”

And this time, Draco didn't argue. He let Harry take him away, take him to this small messy flat in London where he was laid down on a bed that Draco suspected hadn't been made in months. But just as he began to fall asleep, he began coughing and his lungs were congested and he felt like his chest was about to explode. Draco shot up and coughed and as he did so, he barely felt Harry's hand on his back.

Draco nodded. In front of him on the couch was what he recognized as a muggle television. He coughed one more, then pointed to it and asked, “Is that a television?”

“Yeah, don't you have one – Never mind, I already know the answer to that.” Harry handed him the remote. “How long has this been going on?”

“No!” Draco moved away from him, his mind already telling a horrifying story of going to the healers and having them know what was in his system, know that he had ingested unicorn tears only a week ago. “I don't want to go to a Healer.”

“There could be something really wrong -”

“What do you care? We see each other twice and suddenly you're my best friend? Fuck you. I'm leaving.”

Draco began to stand, but Harry shoved him back onto the couch. “You're not going anywhere. Before I sent you the letter I went to Blaise and asked if he would give it to you. He's an auror now, did you know? I mean, even if I did think you had a nice arse I wasn't really up for fighting with you. Funny thing, though, is that he said you hadn't answered his messages in over a year.”

“I knew this whole thing was an auror trick. So you were lying this whole time?”

“You sound hurt for someone who can't care after seeing someone for only three times. No, it wasn't a trick.” Harry leaned over him so Draco was boxed between his arms. “I really did think you had a nice arse and I really did want to go out. And I want to know why you were in Borgin and Burkes that day.”

Draco closed the distance between them and for the first time he felt himself react without a potion, without a fantasy, without pretending he was somewhere else. Harry returned his kiss and straddled him, his hands roamed under Draco's shirt as Draco unbuttoned Harry's trousers.

And then, he heard a giggle. Behind him, Brandon appeared, his face next to Draco's head and his lips by his ear. “Do you think you deserve this?”

Harry pulled back and stared at him. “Yes, what?”

“After you let me die?” Brandon asked. “He saved kids like me when you watched me die. Does it feel good to have his hands on you? I would have had that someday. With a girl. I could have fallen for someone.”

“I have to go,” Draco said. He pushed Harry off him. “I'm sorry. I can't – I need to go.”

“Where's your floo? I know you have one.”

Harry pointed to the room across from his bedroom. “Please, don't go.”

Brandon circled around Harry and floated into the floo before Draco could tear his eyes away from the boy-Who-Lived. When he did, he heard Harry sigh behind him and curse under his breath. In front of him was Brandon smiling, and as he stared at the young boy his vision blurred and tears ran down his cheeks. Draco threw the floo powder down and shouted: “Malfoy Manor!”

His Father came home the next day, and just as he had for two years, Draco greeted him as a child and played the game to perfection. He pretended to be shy about his body, he asked his Father what he was doing to his cock, and cried out when his Father enveloped it in his mouth. When he closed his eyes, he imagined the man sucking him had dark messy hair, and he pretended that he was not in a child's body.

But when he came, Draco did what he prayed would never happen when he fantasized. His Father swallowed his cum and he looked at Draco in confusion.

Draco's heart sped up and his mouth was open without the words he needed to deny what he had just said. He felt a cough coming and he sat off to the side of the bed and swallowed the potion sitting next to it. His body changed, it grew, matured, became what his Father didn't desire.

“Draco,” his Father said, “Did you just say Harry? Harry Potter?”

Tears formed in his eyes. He felt light headed and in his chest bubbled a string of coughs. Lucius pulled him back down onto the bed when the coughs subsided and looked into his eyes. “I'm waiting for an answer, Draco.”

Lucius kissed him. The kiss was nothing like Harry's – not soft, not cool against his skin, but rather hot and rushed and brutal against his lips. His Father's hands wandered down to his cock and began to stroke him. “Does he touch you like this.”

“No! God, Draco, don't leave. Don't leave this. I'll give you anything. Potter's not worthy of a Malfoy, let alone you. You're too good. You belong here. With me. This is your place.”

Brandon was beside him again, his face twisted in a sadistic smile that should never be on a child and said, “He's right, you know.”

“No,” Draco replied. He shook his head and sat back up. “No. No. No!”

“No?” Lucius asked. “You belong with me. You started this.”

“You're just going to abandon him?” Brandon was next to him as he left the room. “Don't you love your Father?”

There were things in those moments he couldn't forget. The difference between when he willingly allowed his Father's cock shoved up his arse and this intrusion. The strange fascination he had with Brandon's transparent face while he was fucked and how it changed from that boy he saw die to himself. His ten year old face stared back at him and his lungs were clogged, his chest was going to explode. He began coughing, barely realizing that his Father was still pounding into him, and he tried to sit up. He couldn't breath and his Father pushed him back down and licked the outside of his ear. Lucius groaned and Draco knew it was over and when Lucius pulled back, Draco scrambled away from him. He clutched at his chest and coughed, his vision was fuzzy, he couldn't see his Father's features as he came closer.

“Draco?” The sound of his voice was muffled, the ground swirled around him. His stomach ached, and he couldn't stop it, his throat burned when stomach acid forced it's way up and onto the floor. Draco wailed and jerked away from his Father's touch. Blackness crept into his vision until it enveloped him and his consciousness succumbed to it.

The next time he woke up, his Father was not the one holding his hand, like he first thought. His heart sped up when he looked at the person sitting next to him. The man's forehead was down on the bed and all Draco could see was the dark brown messed up hair.

He jerked awake, but didn't let go of Draco's hand. “You're finally awake,” he said, his voice soft.

“A week. The healers said that – Draco, I have something to tell you. We were, Ron and me, well when you came into Borgin and Burkes we were there. We were investigating illegal trades and when we saw you there, we thought you were involved.”

Draco nodded, he thought back to the two men he saw in the shop. “You were the fat one, weren't you?”

“Jesus, no. I just thought – When I heard I came. The nurse asked me if I knew a Brandon because you said his name when you were first brought in...”

Draco closed his eyes, then opened them again. He looked to the side, past Harry and saw Brandon standing off to the side with a smile on his face. For just a moment, he swore he saw himself, then Brandon made a gun with his fingers and pretended to shoot himself just as his disappeared.

“Apparently the potion you were taking can cause hallucinations and a wacky form of congestive heart failure. Hermione told me about it when the nurse told me what you were taking. I'm a bit surprised that Ron didn't decide to report you for the unicorn tears, but -”

Draco pressed his finger to his lips and pulled Harry to him. They kissed slowly, he took his time to feel Harry's cool lips against his and Draco wrapped his arms around Harry's neck. There was no giggling in the background, no reminder of his Father – only a man he hated, but didn't hate.

“Do you still hate me?” Harry asked, he looked at Draco with one eyebrow raised. “Because I'm not sure that I should be letting someone that hates me stay with me and sleep in my bed.”

Draco snorted. “No, I don't hate you. Don't expect a confession of love any time soon though.”

“Thanks.” Harry grabbed Draco's hand. “I think love confessions are too conventional for us anyway.”

“You were right, you know, at the funeral. For my entire life I wanted nothing more than my Father to be proud of me. He gave me bits of attention, then nothing. I never understood why until I saw him with that boy. I - “ Draco rolled his eyes and chuckled, but it was hollow, lifeless. “I initiated it, I took that potion, it was me that made him -”

“No, Draco. Nothing you did made him do anything he didn't want to do. So he held out for years before he did it, he still did it. He raped you. He raped children and deserved to rot in prison but he killed himself before anyone could arrest him. None of it was your fault.”

“You don't sound like it. For a long time, I thought the way my relatives treated me was okay because there was something wrong with me. But there wasn't. It was them, just like it was your Father that made the decision to touch little boys.”

Draco nodded, then said, “Do you understand now? Why I did what I did?”

“No, I don't think you do. Harry, why do you think my Father committed suicide? Did you think it was just to avoid Azkaban? Because it wasn't. If he wanted to avoid Azkaban, he would have found a way. I think, in his own way, he thought it would make up for everything. I think he thought it would just go away and that without him around, our name would still have whatever dignity is left. But the truth is that my name is already vile and nothing can change that.”

“I don't think your name is vile now. Your father made a mistake. No matter what your family does, it doesn't mean that everyone in that family is the same.”

“But not everything.” Harry licked his lips. “That kid, Brandon was his name right? The nurses say he was just an hallucination.”

“Draco...” Harry sighed. “Okay fine. He was real if you think he was. I think you should tell your mum what happened.”

“She would have found out if he'd lived. I don't think it's right to let her think it was just her marriage on the rocks -”

Harry nodded and didn't press the conversation further. Instead, they spent the night watching a television show that Draco didn't pay attention to, but Harry snickered and laughed at the entire night. His laughs comforted Draco, he relaxed and the troublesome thoughts of the past two years melted away. Harry went to bed first, and just as Draco walked past the window toward the bedroom, he looked outside.

A young boy ran past the street lamp, his face was turned somewhat toward Draco with a lopsided grin on his face. Behind him was another child with white blond hair, whose smile was bigger than the other boy's, and when they ran past the light into the darkness, Draco swore they disappeared.

Tags: ^fest post, ^fest-2010, content:incest, content:non-con+rape, pair:harry/draco, pair:lucius/draco, rating:r

→Fest Art: Creep & Show - Devil\'s Snare/Draco (NC-17)

Some changes have been made to LiveJournal, and we hope you enjoy them! As we continue to improve the site on a daily basis to make your experience here better and faster, we would greatly appreciate your feedback about these changes. Please let us know what we can do for you!

See a bug? Let us know! Here you can also share your thoughts and ideas about updates to LiveJournal

Your request has been filed. You can track the progress of your request at: If you have any other questions or comments, you can add them to that request at any time.

Send another report Close feedback form