lomonaaeren (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lomonaaeren) wrote2010-10-19 04:49 pm
lomonaaeren) wrote2010-10-19 04:49 pm
Chapter Ten of 'Nova Cupiditas'- Like a Month's Waiting
Chapter Nine.
Title: Nova Cupiditas (10/?)
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Pairings: Harry/Draco
Rating: R
Warnings: Attempted rape, issues of consent, violence, gore, sex, heavy angst, profanity. Ignores the epilogue.
Summary: Nova cupiditas—the curse that makes the victim desire someone they hate. There is no cure, and the consequences grow increasingly violent the more the desire is denied. And now someone has cursed Draco Malfoy to desire Harry Potter.
Author’s Notes: This is a very dark story. It will probably be between twelve and twenty chapters.
Chapter One.
Thank you again for all the reviews!
Chapter Ten—Like A Month’s Waiting
Draco sighed as he tasted Harry’s mouth, properly, for the first time. The other times that they’d done this, he’d been so focused on easing the lust that filled his body that he hadn’t thought about anything else.
Now he could appreciate the curve of Harry’s jaw beneath his hand, and the way Harry’s stubble rasped against his palm, and the heat located behind his front teeth. Draco wondered why he had stubble. Did he not shave regularly? Had he been in too much of a hurry that morning, because he had been frightened of Draco, to shave?
Draco wanted to know everything.
He shifted and leaned forwards so that he forced Harry, gently, to widen his stance and permit Draco between his legs. He sighed again as their cocks bumped together. He was still aware of the distant desire to tear Harry’s clothes off and plunge his cock into him. It was—persistent. More persistent than Draco would have liked.
But now he felt as though he had woken up, or broken out of fever into health, finally. His body knew what it wanted, but his mind was in control. He was free of the curse, he thought, without Harry doing anything. That must be it. How else could he bear to go so slowly, to tease Harry’s tongue into a response the way he was doing now?
Not that Harry wasn’t admirable for wanting to help, even if he hadn’t done anything in the end. Not that Draco still didn’t want to lock him up in a room and keep him safe forever. No one had the right to threaten Harry, or touch him, or approach him. Draco could bring him all the food he needed, and give him all the touching he wanted, all the worship he needed, although he probably wouldn’t phrase it that way.
As soon as they were calm again and had spent themselves, Draco would explain that plan. He had no doubt that it would meet with Harry’s full approval.
He nudged his cock forwards again, and then reached a hand down from Harry’s face to his arse, tracing Harry’s crack with one finger. Harry bucked against him, making a vague sound. Draco smiled into his mouth. He would have thought it the surprise of a virgin if Harry hadn’t said that he wasn’t one.
Burning rage tightened a crown around Draco’s head, but he managed to banish it with a deep breath. No, no, Harry had said that he hadn’t been with anyone in a while. Just because others had broken him in didn’t mean they’d broken him, or tarnished him. What was left of him was Draco’s to enjoy.
And what was left of him was quite a lot, Draco thought, gathering up Harry’s erection in one appreciative hand and giving it a squeeze.
Harry cried out again, and then somehow leaned his head back so that his mouth broke free of Draco’s. Draco frowned and adjusted his angle. He had thought he had prevented that from happening, in any way. Harry was more clever and more flexible, both, than Draco had given him credit for.
Draco felt his anger melt into an adoring smile a moment later. Yes, Harry was clever and flexible and had every other virtue. Draco knew he did. He forgot sometimes, when the curse was active or when he remembered the old days when he had hated Harry, but something was always there to remind him. He slid his hand slowly and adoringly around Harry’s shoulders, coaxing him forwards.
Harry’s eyelids fluttered. For a moment, Draco thought he would let himself be coaxed.
And then he shook his head and broke free again. Draco sometimes thought that he didn’t have to be quite that determined. If Harry would listen to his body and to Draco sometimes, he would have a fuller life than he did right now.
“Draco,” Harry said. Draco loved the force and the emphasis he put behind his name, as if he could say the same word over and over again. Well, in a few minutes he will be, Draco thought in contentment, and didn’t turn his head to look down the corridor towards Harry’s room because he didn’t want to lose a moment’s glimpse of Harry’s eyes. “This isn’t you.”
Draco sighed. He had been sure that Harry would start something tiresome the moment his mouth was free—an excellent reason for keeping it occupied—and he had been right. He slid his hand teasingly around Harry’s hip and stroked it there. He had found a sensitive spot, he knew at once, because Harry let his eyelids flutter again. He shook his head sharply, though, and seemed to fight his way back to consciousness just when Draco had counted on rendering him sleepy with pleasure.
“This isn’t you,” he said more fiercely. He was turning to the left as if he wanted to break out of the circle of Draco’s arms, and Draco didn’t see why that should be. He tightened his hold, and Harry rolled his eyes and gave up for now. “It’s the curse. You don’t love me. This is ridiculous.”
Draco winced. The words hurt, hurt like glass knives stabbed into his heart. But he would repeat the truth as many times as necessary to get Harry to understand, he promised himself. The problem was that Harry couldn’t see into his head and so he didn’t know that Draco was sincere and the curse had vanished. Draco could only tell him in words.
Well, he would make words enough.
“I love you,” he said. “It’s not ridiculous. Yes, I was blind for a long time, stupid, but the curse is gone now, and I can see and hear and feel and think and feel. I love you. I want to lay you down on the bed and lick your ears until you come from that alone.” He knew Harry had sensitive ears. He had watched the ways Harry shivered and startled when he was near them before. “I want to be inside you and make you shudder and cry from the pure, exquisite pleasure of it. I want you to be inside me and staring down at me with that expression of wonder I know you’re going to wear, even if you’ve been with other people before, because this is me and you never thought you would see me in this position.” The crown of jealousy was around his brows again, pressing, but after Draco let Harry fuck him, he knew that Harry would never be tempted by anyone else. Draco was a good fuck. “I want to hold you and know that you’re not going to move as we sleep away the Sunday morning together. All of that. That’s only a small taste, but that’s what I can fit into words right now,” he ended.
Harry’s eyelids fluttered again. Draco held his breath, and hoped.
*
Harry wanted to give in with an intensity that surprised him.
It was all the fault of that bloody weakness he had confessed to his mind, if no one else, before, he thought grumpily. He wanted to be the center of someone’s attention, someone who wanted him for himself. The curse made Draco do that.
Or so it seemed. That was the problem he had to keep in mind: that the curse only made Draco seem to want him, that the real Draco would have liked nothing more than to run away screaming before he kissed Harry, and that this was only a new and strange manifestation of the curse.
Or maybe not so strange, when Harry thought about it. The curse would do anything to make sure that its victim accomplished the rape of the object. That meant that it could have shifted to suggesting new tactics to Draco because the older ones weren’t working. If Harry could be seduced, then the curse wouldn’t forbid that. It would make his own suggestions and thoughts seem sane to Draco, the same way that it had made it him think it was sane to rape Harry earlier.
Draco’s thoughts were warped and bent and twisted by the bloody thing. He was doing and thinking everything under its influence, and nothing he said or did could be trusted. He was incapable of keeping that in mind for himself right now, so it was up to Harry to be his conscience, his guide, his monitor.
But how hard was it, when the words Draco spoke were the most romantic ones he had ever heard, and made him want to surrender immediately?
They’re romantic because magic’s acting in his brain, Harry reminded himself yet again. I don’t think Draco would be romantic like that naturally. And that’s all the more reason to hate the curse, because I’ll never have the chance to find out what he acts like and says on his own.
Harry reached up, swallowed, and then tore Draco’s hand free from his face. He would have to move more delicately with the one on his cock, he thought. He opened his eyes and saw Draco staring at him from inches away.
“Please,” Draco said, though Harry could hear no breath behind the word. Only his lips shaped the plea.
Shadows of desperation were growing in Draco’s eyes. He might have been starving with food only a foot away, or dehydrated, with water lifted high above his head by an uncaring Azkaban guard. His hands on Harry trembled, and Harry knew that, as a result of the curse’s strange manifestation, that he was the one with the power at the moment. Deny Draco, and Harry would hurt him, or at least inflict a cruel wound.
Harry hesitated again. He had never wanted to hurt anyone. He had become a research wizard out of interest in and love for his obscure field, but he hadn’t been opposed to helping people when he could. Causing pain deliberately was against his nature, against his own integrity as a human being.
No, you idiot! Start arguing with yourself, and the curse has already won!
He was still debating, unable to stop or think clearly, when Draco kissed him and apparently took it on himself to make up Harry’s mind for him. His hands were moving again, stroking Harry’s tangled hair back, sliding into his pants so that he could touch skin to skin where his cock was concerned. Harry’s mind hazed. He knew that the way Draco squeezed and stroked him was really no more skilled than the touches of any other lover he had been with, but it seemed so. And this was Draco, whose face Harry had seen so many new expressions on in the past few days.
Draco, who would hate and despise what he was doing if he could be in control of himself.
Harry dug deeper and deeper down for his resolve, even as Draco caressed his hipbone and found that bloody weak spot, even as Draco’s tongue stroked in precise movements and Harry’s head spun and pleasure flowed straight to his toes. His orgasm was rising, and it felt as if Draco would tear it out of him if he didn’t stop touching Harry soon.
His body was all in favor of coming. It would only last a moment, and it wouldn’t matter, because it was Harry’s orgasm and not Draco’s. Harry could feel his tunnel vision closing in from all sides. He could feel his head bobbing forwards in surrender, his eyes shutting helplessly. It wouldn’t matter. He could come, and then his head would clear and he could deal with everything afterwards.
Draco’s fingers closed in a hard pinch on the head of his cock, and Harry screamed. The sound and the sudden pain made him fly backwards again.
It does matter, because the curse is using Draco’s hands and mouth to make me come. I won’t use him as—as some sort of fucktoy. He’s still a human being, who should have some sort of fucking choice about what he does and who he does it with!
His shame was scalding, and Harry shook his head with more strength and less effort than before, pushing himself off the wall this time and away from Draco completely. His body immediately missed Draco’s hands, but his body didn’t get to cast the deciding vote. Harry was back in control now, calmly settled in himself, no matter how much it might have hurt, and he was going to do the right thing.
No matter how much he may have regretted it.
*
What does it take to convince him?
Draco was getting a bit exasperated now. Harry just kept backing away like a skittish virgin, and since Draco knew he wasn’t, that left only the possibility that he didn’t want Draco as much as Draco wanted him. Perhaps he was going to go find someone else, or he had a lover he hadn’t told Draco about.
Draco’s lips parted in an automatic snarl.
But no, it couldn’t be that, because he trusted in Harry’s honesty. He had to trust in Harry’s honesty, as a matter of fact. If Harry had lied to him before, it was such a good lie that Draco had never suspected it.
“Draco,” Harry said. His tone was low and reasonable, despite his wild eyes and hair. Draco wondered if perhaps his sex drive was abnormally low, because he could sound like this in the middle of a session of lovemaking. Well, that was another problem Draco would be happy to help him with. “You aren’t this way. It isn’t you. I promise you it isn’t.”
“You can say that all you like, but your body responds to me,” Draco said, deciding to talk about the one undisputed piece of truth between them. He stalked forwards, making sure that his hips moved in slow circles. He had had more than one former lover—and all of them would be former, now—tell him that that it made him devastatingly hard to resist. And Harry’s eyes dropped to his hips and lingered there for a moment before he wrenched them away.
Draco wanted to growl, except that he wouldn’t do anything that undignified. What did he have to do to get through that tough skull of Harry’s?
“Yes,” Harry said. “And I nearly gave in and took advantage of you. But not right now. I know that you’re still under the curse.”
Draco smiled. “No. It’s gone.”
That made Harry give him a hard-eyed, suspicious stare, instead of the joyous smile that Draco had been sure would appear when Harry heard the news. “Really,” Harry said. “What made it vanish?”
Draco sighed and reached out, intending to trail a hand down Harry’s arm. Harry backed up so that he hovered temptingly just out of reach, and another of Draco’s brilliant plans failed. “What does it matter?” he asked in irritation. “What matters is that we’ve spent more time together than any other cursed pair have, and we’re both still alive, and I want you so much that it’s destroying me from the inside.” It did feel as though his liver was burning up now, his lungs crisping with the force of the fire denied. He was hungry. He had to have Harry.
“I bet that’s it,” Harry muttered. “If no other cursed pair spent this amount of time together without a rape or a murder happening, then it would make sense that the curse has to change form, and that no one else reported it.”
Draco purred. This sounded more positive. He wanted to encourage Harry in that line of thinking. “Come on,” he whispered. “If we’re free, then that means that we should enjoy ourselves. You deserve a reward for all your hard work. Who else would have stood by me in a crisis like this? You see that my own father thinks your death is the answer, and my mother thinks mine is. You’re the only one who cares about me right now, Harry. You’re the only one I can trust. And I promise you, I trust you more and I want you more than anyone I’ve met in my whole life.”
Harry himself might not have been aware of the way he hesitated when Draco spoke those words, but nothing could make Draco more aware of Harry than he was. He smiled and edged closer.
*
God, Harry wanted to give in.
It wouldn’t hurt much, would it? He could yield, and he would still be the good person he had always thought he was. Draco spoke with such sincerity that Harry could believe him if he wanted to, and no one would blame him. He could—
God, you’re stupid. Thinking with your cock.
Harry bowed his head, his conscience once again throwing a bucket of cold water over his libido. Why did he keep wavering towards temptation, though? He knew the curse was still there no matter what Draco said; in fact, it was in the curse’s interest to have Draco deny it, so that Harry would be convinced and yield. The curse only existed to make Draco plunge his cock into Harry and then jerk him back and forth between sanity and lust, growing more violent whether it was satiated or denied.
But yielding now would give him some lucidity back for a short time, and it might be enough time to let us find a solution.
That was another excuse again. Harry took a deep breath and drew his wand. Draco watched him with narrowed eyes, but he looked satisfied when Harry aimed the wand at himself and not at him. Perhaps he thought Harry was going to cast a charm that would remove all their clothes and take them to his bedroom.
Harry cast the Cold Water Curse on himself.
He cried out as it settled into place around him, a chilling burst of purest pain that calmed the passion in his chest the way a hand might snuff a candle flame. He bent at the waist, shivering, his skin pebbled with the cold. Yes, it hurt, and yes, he should never have needed it, but the point was, he could actually think clearly now.
And he raised a barrier between him and Draco the moment he realized that he could. It was what he should have done in the first place. Force them apart, and then Draco couldn’t carry through this mad plan to seduce him or whatever it was, and Harry couldn’t touch even if he was tempted.
Draco slammed his palms flat against the shield, his face open and aching with disbelief. Harry swallowed several times and reminded himself that the pain done to Draco would ultimately be worse if he gave in, no matter how good it might feel in the short term. Draco would awaken from that interlude to his normal self, and he would feel like vomiting or worse when he realized that Harry had raped him.
“No,” Draco whispered. “No, please, Harry.”
Harry had heard less sincere begging from Ron or Hermione when they asked him to reconsider giving up on Auror training. He swallowed again. “I can’t,” he said. “Please, Draco, try to understand.” And then he stopped and shook his head. What kind of nonsense was he talking, speaking as though Draco was in control of his actions and was capable of acting rationally?
“I can’t understand,” Draco said promptly, seeming to find hope in his headshake. “Harry, we need to discuss this. Lower the barrier and let me touch you.”
Harry shook his head again, this time more determined. “This is the curse,” he said. “It is, no matter how much or what you might feel at the moment—”
“I love you.” Draco’s eyes were bright and frantic and sincere.
“Be that as it may,” Harry said with an effort, “I can’t touch you without raping you. I can’t let you make me come without using you. I won’t violate your mental integrity that way. It would make me no better than the people who cast the curse.”
“I told you, the curse is gone. I love you. I love you.” Draco slid to his knees on the other side of the barrier, and Harry closed his eyes, aching, this time, with the humiliation that Draco couldn’t feel for himself. “Harry, let me through, please. We don’t have to fuck, not if you don’t want to. You could let me hold you, and I would whisper sweet things in your ear all night long and sleep with you. Just sleep,” he added hastily, though Harry hadn’t even voiced his objections yet. “That’s all. We could wake in the same bed. I think I need that. Please, Harry.”
Harry shook his head a third time. “I have to disbelieve what you’re saying, Draco. The curse is talking, not you.”
*
“But the curse is gone.” Draco felt that statement as a great truth, and he hated not being able to communicate it to Harry. To him, it was the most obvious thing in the world. He knew he loved Harry now, had fallen in love with him during the past few days, and that he should have been able to speak to him as one lover did to another, speaking truths beyond the reach of the world. That he couldn’t was heartbreaking.
And Draco really did feel as if his heart was breaking. He winced and put a hand on his chest, feeling it ache as though someone was slicing through his heart with a savage knife. He whimpered and tried to bow his head, but the bloody barrier was in the way.
He had to be close to Harry. Just touching him, like he said, not even fucking him, not even making love to him. He would be ripped apart otherwise. The knife had gone, and in its place was emptiness. He was so hungry.
“Harry, please,” he said. “I have to.”
“It’s the curse,” Harry, his beloved, stubborn, damning Harry said, watching him with the eyes of a judge. A doubt crept into Draco’s empty chest and flourished there. Did Harry really love him? He must not, or he could never have cast Draco into this horrible solitude and left him. “That’s all. I’m sorry, Draco. I’ll try to think of a spell that will bring you back to sanity, but with this new form the curse has taken, I don’t know how—”
“Harry,” Draco said. “I’m so hungry.” The hunger was growing, overpowering everything else. “If I can’t have you, I’ll have to have something else.”
Harry stared at him, expression suddenly wary. “I’ll stop you if you try to break through the barrier and rape me, Draco.”
“Never hurt you,” Draco rasped. His throat was dry, the saliva gone. He bent his head and ran his tongue up his arm, hoping to see the trail of wetness left behind, and, when none appeared, to feel the blood beneath. He still had liquid in him. He was still moist, if he really tried to be. He hurt. “Hurt myself before I hurt you.”
And it wasn’t enough. He was so hungry, and he had a source of food all around him, and really, what else was he good for, if Harry didn’t love him enough to be with him?
He bit down into his arm, enjoying the way his teeth went deeper and deeper, enjoying the way the blood welled around them, because the pain was a sensation to dig into the emptiness in his chest and make it vanish, because he stopped being so hungry when he bit—
Because Harry took down the barrier, and was beside him in a moment, crying out and cursing and cradling him in his arms.
Draco turned his head and kissed Harry. He kept it to a soft, sweet kiss, so it wouldn’t frighten Harry. He would go slowly. But he needed to be with Harry more than he had ever needed anything in his life, and if Harry didn’t stop muttering over his bleeding arm, then Draco would make him pay attention.
Harry said something in a distracted tone. Draco only heard part of it, and that part was, “Somnus.”
He went to sleep, to his surprise, the darkness closing in. But it didn’t take Harry away, to Draco’s surprise and gratitude; he danced with a willing Harry in his dreams, and they were together in every possible way.
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