Chapter Fifteen of 'Nova Cupiditas'- A Hand and a Half

[lomonaaeren]

Chapter Fourteen.

Title: Nova Cupiditas (15/?)
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 Fifteen—A Hand and a Half

Harry came slowly to life. That was what it felt like, rising back to the surface the way he had after Voldemort had cast the Killing Curse on him in the Forbidden Forest, rather than simply opening his eyes because he’d had a sleeping charm cast on him.

A sleeping charm. Fuck.

Harry tried to bolt out of bed, but something soft and silky immediately restrained him. When he looked down at himself, he realized that he wore a white robe that was practically transparent, and which had long extensions attached to the sleeves and to the portion that swirled around his legs. Those extensions had already curled around his wrists and ankles. While they didn’t attach him to the bed he was lying on, Harry knew that he wouldn’t get far trying to walk or use his hands in this outfit.

“You’re awake.”

Draco’s voice smoldered with lust. Harry jerked his head up and pushed himself back towards the middle of the bed, wary. He didn’t want Draco touching him when he had that sound in his voice. The curse could well take over.

If it hasn’t already. Harry remembered the sleeping charm, and from one of the words in the spell Draco had cast on him before that, he was also fairly sure that Draco had magically ordered him not to have sex with anyone else, either. There was no reason for him to do that unless he thought he had a rival Harry hadn’t introduced him to yet.

Draco stood in the doorway of the small, dim bedroom he’d given Harry, his face and body barely lit by the tiny fire. Harry’s mouth dried out anyway. If things had been sane and there had been no curse, he might have told Draco that he had no rival because no one could hold a candle to the way that he looked at the moment.

His hair was soft and just recently dried, and fell around his face so that it delicately framed his cheeks. His eyes had a fire deep in the back of them that Harry had never seen directed at him. Everyone else was either too insincere or too insipid. And Draco wore a white robe, too, though his wasn’t transparent and had no attachments to restrict his movements. Harry could see the jut of his hipbones and his erection anyway, and the proud way that he carried himself, and the dance-like movements with which he came slowly forwards.

“Harry,” he whispered. “I’m ready for you. When will you be ready for me, I wonder?”

Harry lowered his eyelids as if he was shy or trying to flirt, but in reality, he was darting a look around the room for his wand. He didn’t see it. He nibbled his lip, knowing that he might be able to summon it with wandless magic if he was angry or desperate enough, but not sure that he should do so until Draco was more off-guard.

“I took you away from them,” Draco went on softly, coming into the room, his hands busy on the buttons of his robe. He shrugged it off, and Harry turned his head sharply away, his ears burning more with the thought of violating Draco’s dignity by looking at him naked than with sheer embarrassment. “All the ones who didn’t understand us, all the ones who might have seen you when you’re mine. I hope that you’ll trust me enough to let me make love to you now. I have you alone here. You can’t see anyone else, and you don’t have to worry about anyone seeing you or stopping us. Will you consent?”

He sounds like a conqueror talking to a subdued nation, Harry thought, deliberately using the ridiculous thought—Draco had said all of that in a soft, husky voice that made his mind react—to distance himself from his immediate emotions. Draco had just given him valuable information, although he might not realize it. Harry was in a house alone with Draco, then, which meant he couldn’t count on quick rescue from his friends. It was probably a house that no one else knew about.

Harry did know that, if anyone could discover where they were through some logical method and ultimately find them, it would be Hermione. But it would take her some time, and by then Harry would have been raped.

Or Draco will have been, Harry thought, and his head turned despite himself so that he could lock his eyes on Draco. He wanted to resist, he did, but it felt as though someone had gripped either side of his neck in powerful hands.

Draco stood proudly before Harry, his cock jutting out. It had a red-purple flush on it that looked painful. His eyes were wide enough that Harry could see them as drowning, liquid pools, the pupil taking over. His chest bore a network of fine silver scars, but every other inch of his skin looked unmarked, white and shining—lit from within by the same fire that animated his eyes. He lifted his arms and turned them outwards, so that Harry could see the fine bones in his wrists, and then arched his neck to the side. Harry saw the skin fluttering quickly over the pulse.

“It’s all yours,” Draco said, and his voice was smug and serious at the same time, a combination of emotions Harry didn’t think anyone else could have pulled off. “Whenever you want, Harry. Just reach out and touch me.” His voice sank to a throb that Harry could feel in his groin, like the pulsing of blood. “Please do that. I’ve been waiting for you, all my life. I was living a dream until I woke up and saw you.”

Harry took a deep breath. He had to fend Draco off until he could come up with a plan. That was true no matter what the plan ultimately turned out to be. He was safe from the sexual effects Draco was trying to provoke in him, he reassured himself, thanks to the Cold Water Curse. That meant it was nothing but self-indulgence to look at Draco, or pretend that he had no choice about doing so. “This is the curse,” he said. “You probably prefer people who are totally different from me, Draco.” He rifled through his mind, but couldn’t produce any memories of Draco being involved with someone. It wasn’t as though he’d paid much attention to his old rival’s activities in the last few years. “You want to marry a pure-blood witch who’s unlike me. Tall and delicate and blonde—you must want someone beautiful.”

*

Draco could have laughed at the weakness and wrongness of Harry’s perceptions, if they hadn’t made him want to weep instead.

Harry didn’t think he was beautiful? He couldn’t see himself, not the way his lips moved or how his eyes caught the light when he turned his head. Draco had heard person after person, usually some silly witch, sighing away about Harry Potter’s eyes over the years, and he had never paid attention. They couldn’t possibly be as amazing as the witches in question said, they only adored him because he was a hero, and that was the end of it.

But now…

Draco had to swallow away the jealousy that the thought of those witches brought him, because none of them had ever seen Harry like this, kneeling, dressed in white like a virgin or a sacrifice, watching Draco with a face that didn’t need the fire to give it brilliancy.

How could he have got to this age without knowing how beautiful he was, especially when he was surrounded by people eager to praise him?

Draco shook away the question. The fact was that it had happened, and so he was the one who got to enjoy the fruits of Harry’s ignorance.

“You’ve had your chance to look,” he said, and came stalking forwards a few steps, his body curved so that Harry could continue to see his cock and his face. His groin ached and twitched. He’d lost count of the hours that he’d been erect; the sleeping charm hadn’t worn off Harry quickly, and neither had his interrogation of the Mudblood fanatics gone fast. Draco knew what he needed now, and he would be content if Harry required some coaxing first—that made it more likely that he would get to do certain things for Harry that he should have been used to already—but he needed to be inside Harry soon. “I think that you should have a chance to feel.”

He banished the ward that had surrounded the bed, invisible unless it was pushed against, with a flick of his wand, and then climbed onto it beside Harry. Harry stared at him, eyes very green, and opened his mouth in a protest.

Draco was tired of listening to them. While he wasn’t going to gag Harry, because he wanted to listen to that beautiful mouth as it parted in moans, neither would he give credence to his constant attempts to back away and lie and distract attention from himself any longer. Draco kissed him, and immediately thrust his tongue in.

It was better than before, hotter, sweeter, because now he knew what Harry tasted like and he wasn’t so caught up in surprise. But it also wasn’t enough. Draco eased closer, pushing his tongue deeper, pushing Harry back onto the pillows. He removed the robes with a murmured word, and they were naked against each other.

The sheer sweetness of that, like someone placing a piece of ripe fruit on the most sensitive spot of his tongue, made Draco buck. His skin broke out in sweat immediately, and he only hoped that it wouldn’t feel too disgusting to Harry, because he knew that he didn’t have the strength to pull back. He clamped his teeth down on Harry’s lip and pulled, and Harry came towards him, gasping a little.

Draco smiled. He hoped that Harry would feel the smile and take it for the compliment it was, but he couldn’t spare the time to add reassuring words. He waved his wand, and a pot of lube came soaring over the bed to his hand.

It was time for him to take what he needed, and give Harry what he wanted.

*

There’s no more time.

Harry shuddered. He knew the Cold Water Curse was protecting him, or he would already have been half-mad with lust and longing at the way Draco had revealed himself. He also knew that he had held off unacceptably long, only because part of him wanted to see what happened next.

But Draco was pouring lubrication over his fingers and reaching towards Harry’s arse. It was too much.

Harry made a grab for Draco’s wand. It was the only one close to him right now, and he knew from the war that he could use it with some degree of skill. Cast a spell that would carry him out of here and find him his wand, and then he could send a Patronus to Ron and Hermione and figure out a way to cage Draco—

But Draco seemed to have anticipated the move. He turned and pushed with one hand, and Harry was sprawled beneath him again, with Draco kneeling over him, panting, and Draco’s cock less than an inch from his arse. Harry maintained a steady gaze, because he wouldn’t give in to despair.

“I should have realized,” Draco whispered. “I do know a spell that removes the Cold Water Curse, and I should have thought to use it before now. I didn’t because it’s painful. But I can’t wait. Forgive me, Harry. Cupiditatem refero.”

Harry felt as though someone had dropped him into a bath of scalding water. He arched up, screaming, because the spell was boiling off a layer of skin, and it was reaching into the skin and the muscles beneath that, and it was soaking all the way through to the bone, and what was he going to do when it reached there?

But the heat halted suddenly, and, incredible as it seemed, when Harry blinked and glanced down at himself, he was unharmed. Draco smiled and reached out, stroking Harry’s cock with one finger.

It sprang to life, blood and more mortal heat flooding Harry, and he released a gasping cry as he understood. The spell had removed nothing more than the protective layer of magical indifference that the Cold Water Curse had coated him with.

Nothing more, and nothing less, than his only protection.

Draco’s eyes were enormous, and his scent was everywhere in Harry’s nostrils, and he seemed to have at least three hands, from the way they were working down Harry’s back and up his cleft to his hole and down in circles at the base of his spine. Harry tossed his head back, moaning helplessly, and felt longing lick at his skin as his cock fully hardened until he would have been willing to give in to Draco just to get it to stop.

But he knew he couldn’t. Even as Draco kissed him and stroked his nipples and pulled his legs gently apart, he knew there was some reason that he had to resist.

He just couldn’t remember what it was.

*

Draco could have died in that moment and still been happy.

Harry’s eyes were soft now, and blazing. He responded to what Draco was doing, opening his mouth and writhing under him and sighing and whimpering when Draco touched the delicate skin under his ribs and on his hips. He was thrashing. His legs kept opening wider and wider, as if he wanted Draco to fit his whole body between them and up Harry’s arse.

Draco had to close his eyes and take a deep breath when he had that thought. It was—it was something he would have liked to do. Alas, they had to make do with physical reality.

But he was still going to make sure that the physical reality was so pleasant that there was nothing Harry wouldn’t do to retain and keep it. So he sucked Harry’s throat, and lapped at the hollow of his neck where his pulse beat, and kept up the stroking to cock and balls, chest and entrance, stomach and back, so that Harry’s senses were dazed and overrun with a flood of emotions. He didn’t think Harry would exactly request that he stop, not anymore, but he might have doubts, and that would be tiresome.

By now, Draco had more than enough lubricant on his fingers and more than enough room to reach the place he wanted to go. He cast a murmured spell that raised the bed up beneath Harry’s arse and then stroked his entrance, gently, fingers probing in and home.

Harry’s entire body shuddered. Draco smiled. He had had lovers before who were sensitive on the arse, but no one like this.

And I’ll never have anyone else again.

The thought brought him satisfaction, not distress. He knew already that monogamy was essential if he wanted Harry to be faithful to him in turn, and who else could compare?

He eased the first finger in. Harry seemed to stop breathing for a moment, and then he thrashed again, eyes widening until they shone like jewels. Draco had to lean down and kiss them shut, because much more of that stare and he would come before he got inside Harry. It would have been a relief for his erection at this point, but he was still determined that he would feel Harry’s heat and tightness around him before he did. Draco knew it would be hotter and tighter than anyone else, because it was Harry.

“Draco,” Harry said, and his voice broke in the middle so that he had to repeat the word before Draco could be certain of what it was.

Draco smiled and worked his finger deeper and deeper, twisting, turning, probing for what he needed to find. “Yes, love?” he whispered, and then frowned. Exactly how deep was Harry’s arse, how buried was his prostate? For a moment, Draco entertained the absurd notion that Harry would have cast a spell to hide it altogether. Considering how resistant he seemed to be to sexual pleasure, constant use of the Cold Water Curse and all, it would be like him to have done that just in case some random man groped his arse.

“I, need,” Harry said, the words broken again. Draco bent down and kissed his eyes and proceeded to work in a second finger.

“Yes?” he whispered. “Anything you need, Harry, ask for. I’m going to fuck you like you’ve never felt, and then I’ll suck you, and then you’ll fuck me, and we’ll stay in the bed until we’re wrung dry.”

*

Harry felt as though a hot wire had been pulled taut in his belly. It was vibrating, sending sharp buzzes out under his skin, and he could do nothing but shudder and roll his head constantly, trying to get accustomed to them.

The world was red. It was like being inside a ruby, listening to Draco complimenting him, whispering to him and bringing him closer and closer to the moment when he would explode. Or Draco would explode. Or they would both explode at once. Harry opened his eyes to the heavy, shimmering haze and clutched at Draco’s arms. He could feel two fingers inside him and knew that Draco would be inside him in a moment.

That was bad.

He couldn’t remember why. He had never been so overwhelmed by a feeling of lust before. It was as if the ending of the Cold Water Curse had brought all his denied feelings from the last few days crashing down on him.

The Cold Water Curse.

From the bottom of his soul, from the depths of pain and pleasure and degradation and desire, Harry summoned up his strength.

“Draco,” he said softly. “I need something from you, right now.”

Draco bent closer to him, breath so excited that Harry couldn’t feel the separate puffs of it on his face. “Yes,” he whispered. “I only exist to give you what you need, Harry. What do you want?”

Harry felt a pulse of immense sadness that scattered the last of his lust. Draco shouldn’t say things like that. Even without the curse corrupting his mind, no one person should live for another like that.

Harry opened his eyes as though he were struggling against the weight of the lids, and stared at Draco. Draco stared back, blinking slowly and languorously. It was a battle not to get lost in those eyes, but Harry summoned the resolve from where he had summoned his strength and reached up to caress Draco’s cheek.

“Can you pull away from me?” he asked. “I’m not ready for this yet.”

Draco sighed. He never ceased the probing of his fingers, the rocking of his hips, both of which threatened to bring back the haze that had drowned Harry before. He gritted his teeth and reminded himself that that wasn’t Draco’s fault. He’d been taken off-guard by his own reluctance to hurt Draco. Clearly that was going to have to change, and he would have to use the kinds of methods that might hurt Draco temporarily to hold him back long enough for Harry to find the cure.

“You don’t think you’re ready for it right now,” he said. “But you will be when you feel my cock, I promise.” He reared back and picked up Harry’s body by the shoulders, rocking him into a position where he was poised to enter Harry.

For the last time, Harry had to fight temptation. Would it be so bad to let Draco take what he wanted? He would be willing, so it wouldn’t be rape for him, and he could ease Draco’s need and gain a period of lucidity after that—

But it would be him raping Draco.

And this really was about an underhanded attempt to slake his own lust.

Draco thrust forwards, a shallow motion that was enough to rub his erection against Harry’s arse and no more. Harry moaned. It was so smooth, the slide, so heated, back and forth, and, he could imagine easily, forwards and back in a moment.

“Yes,” Draco hissed under his breath. His eyes were practically black. He looked down to watch himself enter Harry.

Harry’s hand, splayed out to the side freely, closed on the wand that Draco had left lying on the bed.

He cast a spell that threw Draco back against the edge of the bed, draping him half-on and half-off, so that he had to scramble and churn his limbs to keep his balance. Harry rolled to the side and bolted from the room, around the bed and through the door that Draco had used earlier.

“Accio Harry Potter’s wand!” he called as he went, because he doubted that he could waste much time. Draco would be after him in seconds.

He really didn’t anticipate the flying tackle that Draco made from the bed onto his back, knocking him down and locking him against the floor. Harry barely managed to hang onto the wand.

*

Draco’s mind spun with rage.

Who did Harry think he was? He pretended to consent, and then in the end he ran away and decided to play hard to get. Well, not now. Not now. Draco had been in the perfect position to enter Harry, had been sure that he was warm and loving and wanted it too, and had forgotten that Harry had never said he loved Draco and had in fact done some quite unloving things.

No more. No longer. Draco would take what he needed first and worry about what Harry needed later.

He kicked at Harry, trying to pin his legs out to the sides, but Harry flipped his head back sharply, so that his skull hit Draco’s nose. Draco’s eyes crossed, and he felt his fingers relax in spite of himself. Harry was on his feet in seconds and out into the corridors again, and Draco’s frustrated grab for him missed.

We’re both naked, Draco thought in the one part of his brain that wasn’t given over to an immense snarl of frustration. It shouldn’t be that hard to have some bloody sex, and yet of course he makes it that way. He’s Harry Fucking Potter.

Harry didn’t know the layout of the house. Draco kept that in mind as he ran after him, listening for the sounds of frustrated, pained breathing. Trying to run with an erection was no fun; Draco should know.

If Harry didn’t know the layout of the house or where it was, he couldn’t get away, even if he did have Draco’s wand. And surely he wouldn’t try to Apparate naked, not when he didn’t know how far away he was from home and whether a jump would suffice to take him across the width of a country or between continents.

Harry darted around a corner, and a terrible suspicion darted into Draco’s brain at the same moment. He reached out and pushed his anger and desire towards Harry the way he’d pushed against the bubble that had contained him back at Harry’s house, yanking, demanding, pulling his wand back to him.

It came flying, Harry letting out a slight cry that might have been pain from the wood stinging his fingers. Draco hardly cared about that, not when he could finally tie Harry down again and have him.

But it was too late. Harry had his own wand back, as Draco saw when he faced him. And he had that powerful, confident look in his eyes that Draco had seen when he faced Voldemort, never mind that he was naked and hard.

Draco hesitated, caught up in his admiration of Harry in that moment, and Harry’s body, and the way he shone, and it was a moment too long.

“I hope this works,” Harry said. “I’m sorry, Draco. Finite amorem.”

Draco fell to his knees, screaming, as the pain surged through him. Part of him was burning, although he couldn’t see what. He curled in on himself, trying to combat the flames, trying to beat them out, his hands striking his own skin with regular, small, ugly sounds.

And then it was gone. Then it was over. Draco raised his head and peered suspiciously in several directions, unable to imagine what had happened.

Only when he looked at Harry did he know. He still wanted him, he still bristled with jealousy at the thought of someone else having him, but his love was gone, and with the love, his wild lack of self-control.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered, kneeling down but not trying to touch him yet. Draco was grateful for that consideration, as much as he could be, knowing what he had almost done and what Harry had witnessed. “I’m so sorry.”

Draco closed his eyes, and breathed, and turned his head away.

They stayed there like that, just breathing, until Harry cleared his throat. Draco turned to stare at him from tear-starred eyes, unable to say what he felt at the moment, or whether he desired Harry to speak or keep silent.

“I think—I think I know how to cure the curse now,” Harry said.

Comments

[inkweaver]

Wow... Such an amazing chapter!!! I loved all the sexuality in it! Love how once again Harry is so close to just giving in. I'm really feeling for him; he seems so madly attracted to Draco. In a way I was kind of expecting the 'rape' to just happen because Harry seemed to really want it to happen. And it got really, really close.
With the last sentence of this chapter, I feel a new (last) 'phase' in the story coming.. I really wonder how it's going to go, how Harry and Draco's relationship is going to be 'after' the curse...