desire .

Scars and Surrenders

ao3 author: Lunas_Secret_Lover

summary: Harry finds Draco sobbing in a bathroom and satisfies a different need than his need for revenge. Gay smut, Slash, Shamelessly porny with a little plot

Draco Malfoy caught sight of Katie Bell talking to Potter by the Gryffindor table and felt the familiar knot in his stomach growing until he felt like he was going to be sick. He ran out of the hall, trying to contain his rebellious tears to his eyes as he did so. All of the terror and anxiety of the past few months was hitting him now, all of it at once, and he couldn’t bear it. Somehow he made his way to a bathroom and turned on the sink. Myrtle was beside him almost instantly. Draco let the tears hit, knowing that trying to hold them back would be futile. Myrtle was trying to comfort him, saying useless things about not crying and how everything was going to be alright.

“It’s not going to be alright,” Draco choked out. “He’s going to kill me. He’s going to kill my whole family if I fail.” Myrtle was floating around helplessly waving her arms as if that could help. As if anyone could help him now. He sunk to the ground, sobbing.

“I know what you did, Malfoy.” Draco spun around as the voice of Harry Potter rang out through the dimly lit bathroom. The one person who could possibly make this situation worse right now. Of course bloody Potter had to show up. He was suddenly very self conscious of how tear-streaked his face was, how pathetic he must look. His face flushed in shame, and his hand grabbed his wand instinctively. He pulled it out and pointed it at Potter, his hand shaking. Potter disarmed him almost instantly and stepped forward.

“You’re going to pay for what you did to Katie, you bastard,” Potter snarled. Myrtle shrieked. Draco hung his head, utterly defeated, and waited for Potter’s revenge. Gods knew, Draco deserved it. He closed his eyes, wishing that Potter had the guts to do him any real damage, and knowing at the same time that he wouldn’t. After a moment of nothing happening, Draco looked up and met Potter’s gaze. The Gryffindor’s expression had softened, and he was looking almost sympathetically at Draco’s broken form lying on the bathroom floor.

“What did they do to you, Malfoy?” he asked incredulously. Draco hated being pitied. He would far prefer the other boy’s rage to his pity. He forced a sneer on to his face.

“They didn’t do anything to me, Potter. What did ‘they’ do to you? Those stupid mudbloods and bloodtraitors. Are you getting soft now? The man who poisoned two members of your house is lying helpless in front of you and you aren’t even going to do anything about it?” He was surprised at how weakly his voice came out. Hopefully Potter wouldn’t notice, and would take the bait. Draco was desperate for… something. He wasn’t sure what. Punishment, maybe? He had done some terrible things this year and he knew that they could never be forgiven. Mostly he just wanted to feel a different kind of feeling than the crushing reality of his situation and the things he had done. He needed any kind of distraction, and maybe Potter’s stupid banter would distract him for a moment.

Potter’s face had twisted back into anger, though it seemed less than before. He strode up to Draco and sat down on his chest, pushing the tip of his wand against the blond’s throat.

“Is this what you want, Malfoy?” he asked softly, as if reading Draco’s mind. Yes. Draco’s mind responded. Yes, do it. Make me feel something.