Chapter Twenty-Eight of 'Nova Cupiditas'- Four-Quarters Time

[lomonaaeren]

Chapter Twenty-Seven.

Title: Nova Cupiditas (28/29)
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 Twenty-Eight--In Four-Quarters Time

Harry licked his lips nervously as he began the firecall to Malfoy Manor. He wasn't sure their Floos would still be open to him, or that Draco would answer if they were. He cringed when he thought about either of the Malfoy parents appearing.

So he winced outright when Narcissa Malfoy's face hovered in the flames, not the less regal for being mostly green.

"Um, Mrs. Malfoy?" Harry asked, winced again at the elaborate politeness of his tone because it sounded so false, and did his best to sound relaxed and simple without actually sounding simple-minded. "This is Harry Potter. I wanted to speak to your son, if he was home."

Narcissa studied him in silence for some time, then inclined her head. "Yes, he is," she said. She hadn't smiled yet, but she hadn't cursed him either, so Harry reckoned that was a good sign. "We had expected an owl from you, but a firecall is as well. I shall have a house-elf fetch him." She turned her head briefly aside, presumably to say something to the elf.

Harry told himself that he hadn't really expected her to go get Draco herself, which would have given him a brief break to gather his senses, and rubbed his palms on the legs of his trousers, hoping that she wouldn't notice. Nor did she appear to. Instead, Narcissa knelt there in silent grace, watching him with bright, tranquil eyes. She didn't smile, no, but neither did she seem upset.

"Um," Harry said at last, and promptly wished he could take his wand to his own temple. "Does this mean that you've accepted what's going on between me and Draco, Mrs. Malfoy?" Or is Draco going to come down and tell me that he's getting married and this attempt to be together is off?

The deep devastation, black and threatening, that filled him at that thought convinced Harry more than ever that he was doing the right thing with his attempt.

Mrs. Malfoy bestowed a chilly smile on him, at last. "His father would have opposed it," she said simply. "It is not what we wished for our son, of course."

"Er, I know," Harry said, still clinging to hope because of the word would. That suggested Lucius hadn't actually opposed it.

"But Draco did remind us that reality does not always correspond to our wishes." Narcissa settled himself more comfortably on the floor, her robes spread around her like skirts. "In a more gracious manner than I had expected, given the nature of his father's opposition. We must therefore learn to accept his choices as graciously, or risk looking ill-bred."

Potentially the worst of fates, for a Malfoy, Harry thought, and hoped that his smile wasn't too ill-bred. "That's wonderful," he said, and then, because the silence she exuded seemed to wait to be filled and he wasn't as comfortable with her as with Draco, he said, "I really do think that I'm in love with him, Mrs. Malfoy."

"How nice of you to admit that to my mother first and not to me," said an icy voice from beyond her.

Harry winced. Shit. He was forever doing something wrong, and he suffered a brief spasm of doubt that this was going to work, despite all his good intentions, despite all that Draco had declared the other day about not intending to let him back away.

Then he shook his head. It would work because of both their determination. They would tear each other apart, maybe, but it had gone too far for them to just walk away and hope that that would be enough.

"Sorry," he said, craning his head back in the hopes that that would let him see Draco over Narcissa. "I didn't see you standing there."

*

"I really do think that I'm in love with him, Mrs. Malfoy."

It wasn't that Draco didn't stop when the words came to him, and that he didn't feel a mixture of smugness and triumph washing through him like blended spices. It was the fact that Harry had said that as a secondary confession instead of to him, first.

Still afraid of actually facing his feelings, isn't he?

"How nice of you to admit that to my mother first and not to me," he said, and stepped around his mother, who gave way to him with a faint, amused smile, so Harry could see him. From the startled way Harry's head jerked up, he really had had no idea that Draco had been there.

Which only made it more wrong that he had chosen his feelings, of all things, for the topic of casual conversation with Draco's mother.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled. "I didn't see you standing there."

"I know," Draco said, and took his mother's place, staring at Harry as he hovered in the fire. He felt emotions wash over him once more, the complicated mixture of lust, exasperation, hatred, anger, and pleasure that he had felt in smaller portions over the last day, as he thought of Harry instead of seeing him. "I doubt you would have said it if you did."

Harry's nostrils flared, and he bowed his head like a bull about to charge. Draco paused. He hadn't got that particular reaction before when he said things that were far more scathing.

"I've been thinking about this," Harry said, softly, intensely. Draco noted from the corner of his eye that his mother had left the room, as she should have, but he couldn't look away from Harry's gaze. "I don't want to just roll over and show my belly when you accuse me. Some of this I'm guilty of, but not all of it."

Draco folded his arms. The emotions in his stomach turned to a thick, rolling ball. "Really?" he breathed. "You think that you deserve to get away with the self-justifying shite you have so far?"

"I did say that some of your accusations were right." Harry's stare was immovable. "But I won't always agree that you were right and cower in fear of your disapproval. If you think you'll control the relationship that way, then I'm going to deprive you of that illusion right now."

Draco ran his tongue over his lips. "Why don't you tell me what else is going to happen," he asked, "since you seem so confident?"

"I'm going to check to make sure that the curse is gone," Harry said firmly, "and that the expression you're staring at me with right now doesn't have anything to do with it."

"Of course," Draco said, with a quick flash of bitterness that transmuted several of the emotions he was feeling. "Still hiding behind the curse, still acting as though it's the only thing that can justify what I feel."

Harry rolled his eyes. "It's not hiding behind it to want to make sure it's gone, you bastard. Besides, I want to make sure that none of the passion you'll feel when I fuck you is artificial. Which means no drink to get up your courage and no aphrodisiac potions, either," he added as an afterthought.

Draco sat up straight, his veins ringing with desire that ate the other emotions. "If you think that I need that," he began.

"I've heard about your sexual conquests before the curse began," Harry said. "Several times, over the last several days. Ron wanted to make sure that I knew before I 'took up' with you. I don't think that one wizard could have made that many conquests without some liquid assistance, at times."

Draco laughed aloud, in both fury and delight. This was what he had dreamed of, Harry challenging him instead of laying back and taking whatever Draco or fate handed him. Harry making some attempt to grasp the treasures laid out before him, and not refusing timidly, out of fear that he might hurt someone.

"You make a lot of assumptions," he said. "That all the tales are true. That I needed potions to seduce people. That you're going to be the one fucking me."

Harry clenched his hands in front of him as if it took a lot for him to refrain from reaching through the fire and grabbing Draco. Draco opened his mouth to urge him on, but Harry spoke before he could. "Fine. Then it was drink, wasn't it? And a potion to make sure that you could perform once you had someone in bed with you. Pardon me, that is a fine distinction."

Draco leaned forwards until he almost bumped his head on the bricks surrounding the hearth. "If you think that," he breathed, "then you ought to come here right now, while you know I'm sober, and give me a chance to try it."

Harry's eyes widened with piercing excitement, and Draco thought for a moment he would do it. Then Harry scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Really? You think I'm that stupid? I know that you think I'm pathetic, masochistic, desperate for someone else to make decisions. Coming through right now would just confirm your opinion of me."

Draco grimaced. He had thought sometimes that his own words would come back to bite him, but he had to admit, he hadn't thought it would be in quite this dramatic a manner. "I can think that you're full of faults and still want you."

"Of course." Harry had a sharp bitterness in his voice now. "Nothing wrong with my body, after all."

"You think that I'm going to fuck you and then leave?" Draco raised one eyebrow in disdain. "We've come a little far for that."

"Oh, no," Harry said. "I do think you'll stay to fuck a second time. Maybe even a third. But how can you trust me? Because I'll take your words and twist them around. How can you want to be with me? Because you know that I'll sacrifice my time with you the instant someone else needs me. How can you take any pride in being with someone who's more intelligent than he used to be? Because you know that my research is only a hobby, and you'll always be reminded of the pain I caused you and how long it took to cure you."

Draco leaned back with his eyes narrowed. The terms of their conversation had shifted, and he had to understand how before he said anything else.

"My words stung you," he said. "But you know that I didn't expect you to believe every one of them and simply roll over and surrender. Why are you saying these things now?"

"Because I'm trying to change," Harry said grimly, "but you must know that the change isn't going to happen overnight, and that there'll always be the chance that I missed a spot. You know that. I want to know what you expect me to do about it. Are you going to attack with the same devastating outrage every time I make a mistake? Because I can put up with that for a little while, but I'll give up eventually. You must know that I can't stay with someone who constantly criticizes me and does nothing else, not if I'm going to try and be the self-confident person you'd like me to be. If I just take your criticism and like it, I'm masochistic again and you'll be bored."

"Your contacting me shows that you're taking some initiative, not just sitting back and waiting for other people to make decisions," Draco said slowly, picking his way through the unexpected boneyard that had opened up in front of him. "And I can see that you want me. You made a mistake by telling my mother that you loved me first instead of me, but you didn't endlessly apologize for it. Those things are different. Your incessant guilt isn't," he had to add. "You're still more worried about the pain that you'll inflict on me than about what you'll inflict on yourself."

*

Harry knew that last wasn't true, but he had no idea how to deny the accusation without sounding like a selfish bastard. Or being one, in fact. His stomach was already twisted up in knots, and he was watching Draco's face endlessly, for fear that he might have stung him with some words that hurt too much and would have to be taken back.

He forced a deep breath through his lungs and reminded himself, again, that Draco was a big boy and could stand up for himself. If anything Harry said was too much, then Draco would walk away. He wouldn't stand there and take the pain because he believed he deserved it, which was what he thought Harry did.

I'm trying not to.

"I'm not entirely guilty," he said. "You're right, I would be apologizing otherwise. I still don't want to hurt you, Draco, but I won't make avoiding that the center of my life." He paused, then added before he could think too much about it and spoil the symmetry of the words that had come into his mind, "And if you make hurting me your center, then I'll walk away."

Draco's eyes shone, and he reached out one hand as if he had forgotten that a barrier of flames separated them. He pulled it back with a shake of his head, but his gaze never wavered from Harry. "Very good," he said softly. "That was what I wanted. For you to think about it and then start fighting back, eventually."

"It didn't sound like that when you first spoke the words," Harry pointed out. Since Hermione had been there to hear the fight, she had been on Harry night and day about the words Draco used, his tone of vicious pleasure, and her own conviction that Draco just wanted to punish Harry for having been there to witness his embarrassment and his weakness in the face of the curse.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course not. I was rejoicing in being free of the curse and able to speak those words and have you listen, just then, instead of blaming it on a reflection of your own emotions. It doesn't mean that I believe all those things, all the time." He stared at Harry and added, "But enough of them to make a difference, if you don't intend to change anything."

"Some things," Harry said. "Not all."

Draco bared his teeth. "And I believe I told you that pleases me. Having someone who rolls over submissively for me every time we disagree is no fun."

"Had a lot of that, have you?" Harry muttered, barely loud enough to be heard.

Draco widened his lips around his bared teeth in something that you could call a smile, if you were stupid, and Harry wasn't. Most of the time, anyway. "Enough to know I don't like it," he said with calm that Harry knew was feigned. He'd been around Draco a lot in the past few weeks. He recognized the jumping of his pulse and the way that color flooded his cheeks, even the way his eyes focused. Draco was aroused. "If you're going to offer me something different, get over here and do it."

Harry laughed at him. Something was stirring in his head and his heart, something so foreign that it took him a moment to recognize it as hot, giddy enjoyment. "Really? But that would be submissive."

Draco stared at him. "I see I'll have to endlessly watch my tongue."

Harry smiled in contentment.

"Then come for another reason." Draco was suddenly serious, or near enough to it not to make a difference, stretching his hand out again and letting his fingers hover just beyond the flames. "You still have to examine me and make sure the signs of the curse are fading, don't you?"

His lips curled up, and his face shone like a wolf's that had just seen the tracks of the prey it wanted to devour.

Harry gasped as his own desire tossed him to the top of a scalding wave. He had to swallow twice before he could answer, and then his voice was more breathless than he liked. "Yes, of course I have to do that."

"Then come through." Draco practically bit off the last word, and stretched his hand out as though he wanted to snatch Harry this time and drag him through the fire, willing or not.

Harry smiled, and reached out, answering back.

The lurch through the Floo was nothing like normal. As always, Harry wanted to pause and make sure that he didn't have soot on his robes or dust on his glasses, but this time, Draco bore him off his feet, pressing him back against the mantle as he kissed, urgently, his eyes falling shut in the excess of his desire.

Harry moaned and opened his mouth, his tongue answering Draco's with a curl and a dash and a clash of teeth. He could barely breathe, but for a few moments, that wasn't important, as Draco's hands tightened on his arms and his saliva replaced Harry's air. Harry could feel his heart pounding as urgently as though he was running a race or struggling for his life.

In a way, he was. This was the end of a long, harsh struggle, the culmination of what he wanted.

And if he had to snatch the moment to cast the spell that would tell him the curse was gone, seeing only clear air instead of black or red shimmering around Draco's shoulders, well, at least it was done and he could be reassured.

Draco pulled back from him, eyes shaded, fighting towards seriousness and not getting there. His hands were full of Harry's shoulders and arse, and Harry couldn't take his out of Draco's hair. He tugged, and Draco let his head fall back with a light groan that he bit off almost as soon as he made it. His eyes were furious, searching Harry's face as though the sight of Harry made him want to destroy things.

"This is the way it's going to work," he said, voice rough with passion. "You are going to let me do what I want."

"And that's exactly the kind of submission you said you didn't want," Harry snapped back, leaning on the fireplace as he panted. He had to get his wits back, had to, or he thought Draco would chew straight through him and leave only the husk. "Make up your mind."

Draco tore one hand free of Harry's shoulder to slam into stone and wood, or maybe to pin him there; Harry could still feel the impress of those burning fingers on his skin. "You're going to give in," he said. "That's not submission, not if you choose it."

"You usually have partners who don't choose to submit to you, then?" Harry asked. "My, my, what kinky tastes."

Draco's eyes darkened as if someone had blown smoke into them. Harry found himself smiling. He didn't know why, exactly. This kind of teasing could be dangerous for him, for the both of them. And it was skirting the edge of issues that it might be better not to raise when they were so close to having sex at last.

But if this was the real Draco, the one not under the curse, then Harry thought this might be his real self, too, or at least the one Draco roused in him. They would both have to learn to live with someone less than perfect.

"You know exactly what I mean." Draco's hands were full of his hair now, gripping, tugging, and squeezing in a way that wasn't soothing. Harry had to fight not to close his eyes against Draco's stare. "And I'll thank you to stop pretending that you don't." He bent his head and kissed Harry once more, stabbing his tongue into Harry's mouth, pressing him against the mantle again, as if his one goal was to ensure that Harry carried home bruises on his back.

Harry tried to give as good as he got, but his position and the sheer force Draco was using made it difficult. Things were easier once he got a grip on Draco's shoulders and twisted so that he could shove Draco back a step or two and breathe on his ear.

"Yes," he said, or rather breathed, while Draco squirmed in his grip and stared at him and tried his best not to pant. That he came as close as he did to panting was, Harry thought, entirely due to the wonderful things that Harry was doing as he slid a hand down Draco's spine to his arse and grabbed a handful of it. "I know what you want. The question is whether you'll get all of it or only half." Again, he breathed, and when Draco moaned, mouth open, eyes part-drowned in black, Harry bit down neatly on his earlobe.

Draco hissed and then turned on him, wrestling him down to the floor. Harry went with it, amused and convinced that he could stand back up again whenever he wanted. But once the floor was against his back, Draco crouched over him, staring with eyes so wide that Harry wriggled and turned his head away, and when he heaved upwards, there seemed to be too much strength in Draco's limbs.

"I intend to take what you give me," Draco said. "And a little bit more."

This time, he was the one who bent his mouth to Harry's throat, and Harry was the one who bent back, helplessly giving him access, his fingers opening and closing in useless motions against the back of Draco's head.

*

Draco was so full of desire that it had become pain.

He wanted to suck Harry, bite him, fuck him until they were both exhausted, hold him down, and tease him until Harry let his magic go in sheer insanity. All the conflicting longings washed back and forth like seawater, and Draco whined and was ashamed of it, burying the sound in fierce bites to Harry's neck.

Harry whined back, and Draco was vaguely reassured that he sounded neither as animal nor as weak as he had feared. He leaned back on his heels, licked his lips, and pressed a hand to Harry's collarbone to hold him down when he would have risen. Harry blinked back at him, more than confused.

"I'm going to take you," Draco said. "But not here."

"So many promises, so few actions," Harry said, and gave Draco a smirk that said he knew exactly what kind of challenge he was issuing.

Draco still couldn't let him get away with it.

He scratched Harry's chest hard enough to make him hiss from the burn, and then bit his neck again. Biting in a certain place, he found, made Harry go limp and soft, and scratching the side of his scalp, raking his fingers through Harry's hair, made him utter a buzzing sound that Draco didn't think he was fully conscious of making. Harry didn't seem to notice the Lightening Charm Draco cast, nor the way that Draco scooped him up and deftly relieved him of his wand.

At least, he didn't notice until Draco tossed him down in the middle of his large bed in the middle of his even larger bedroom.

"What--" Harry whispered and turned his head from side to side as though the bedroom would turn back into the room where he had come through the Floo connection just because he wished it would. "What are you doing?"

"Fucking you," Draco said succinctly, because he was done with games, and cast a spell that deprived them both of their clothes.

The way that Harry's eyes widened and darkened was extremely arousing, and Draco had meant his earlier thought that he was done with the games. He tossed the wand away and crawled into bed with Harry.

Harry reached out for him, and Draco bowed his head into the bites and kisses that followed, more than prepared to drown.

And be drowned in return.