Battlefields Part 7
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: R
Category: drama
Notes: Takes place during the war. Thanks to Roses and Lola for beta help and encouragement.
Feedback: Yes please, that would be very nice.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine. These characters belong to JK Rowling. I'm just playing.
Summary: War changes you.
That evening, Draco woke to the feeling of a heavy weight on his body. As his eyes shot open, a hand clamped down on his mouth, smothering him. He fought hard until he saw the glint of light reflected off glasses. Draco ceased struggling and went limp. Potter sat atop him, straddling his hips dressed only in pyjama bottoms. Draco's arms were pinned underneath Potter's legs, and Potter gripped Draco's t-shirt in a fist. Potter leaned in closer, lips to Draco's ear, hips grinding against him. Draco's gasp of horror was muffled.
The room was dark and with what little light filtered in from the bedroom, Draco could just make out the fiery anger in Potter's eyes.
"What happened to Hermione?" Potter hissed. The strong smell of alcohol wafted over Draco's face. Potter was sloshed. Draco strained against him, but Potter was much too strong for him, tightening his grip on Draco's shirt, twisting it until the fabric almost choked him. Potter pushed forward with all his weight and then removed his hand from Draco's mouth. Disturbingly, Potter slid his hand down Draco's chest and under his shirt.
"Get off me, Potter," Draco said. Apparently, it was the wrong thing to say at that moment. Potter shoved his knee right into Draco's chest and pushed, squeezing the wind from Draco's lungs. Tears came to his eyes. "Please, you're hurting me."
"You're hurting me," Potter taunted as he shoved hard once again.
"Please, Potter," Draco felt tears fall, humiliated once again. He'd thought nothing could have been more humiliating than what he'd already experienced, but Potter seemed able to set new standards the longer they stayed together.
"I love it when you beg," Potter said viciously. "Do it some more."
Draco's heart sped up at these words. Much too afraid to speak, he lay pinned, staring up with wide eyes. He swallowed hard and lay completely still. Potter's hand slipped up under his shirt and Draco shivered involuntarily at the feel of fingers brushing his nipple. Potter's fingers closed around the nipple and pinched.
"I said beg," Potter growled as he gave Draco's nipple a hard twist.
Draco cried out in pain, struggling desperately to free his arms, but Potter had him firmly pinned. When he didn't speak, Potter twisted Draco's nipple again. Draco howled as more tears came to his eyes.
"Stop, please. It hurts," Draco cried out. He tried to lift his knee and push Potter off. He almost succeeded. A rush of hope coursed through Draco as Potter fell forward but it wasn't enough to completely throw Potter off balance. Draco cringed at the stench of alcohol on Potter's breath. He must have drunk quite a bit of firewhiskey to lose this much control.
"I'll make it hurt worse if you don't tell me what you did to Hermione," Potter warned.
"Potter, you're very drunk. You should go to sleep. I promise to tell you in the morning," Draco said. He had to at least try to reason with him, even if it seemed a hopeless cause.
Potter paused and sat up, looking as though he were considering this option. But then he twisted Draco's nipple once again, more viciously then the last time. "I don't believe you." He tugged Draco's shirt up to expose his other nipple and twisted them both at the same time.
Draco screamed in pain, thrashing around, desperate to get free from Potter. The thrashing had a much undesired effect, and Draco stopped his struggles, horrified at what he felt pressed against him. Potter was hard. He was getting off on this. Draco redoubled his efforts to free himself from Potter's captivity.
"You'll be free when I want it," Potter shouted, his eyes sparkling with unrestrained malice. He released Draco's burning nipples, and pressed in closer, rubbing against Draco. "Lay still," Potter mumbled into Draco's ear. He captured the lobe of Draco's ear between his teeth and tugged on it none too gently.
"Get off me," Draco managed to say between grunts and shoves. Panic set in and Draco's mind raced wildly, desperate to latch on to anything he could say to get Potter to release him. He cringed as Potter bit down on his ear lob with more force. Potter thrust against Draco again and again, the bulge in Potter's pyjamas growing.
"You owe me," Potter finally said. "I want you to tell me what you did to Hermione." Potter pressed his full body on top of Draco and cupped Draco's shoulders in his hands, gripping tightly. "What did you do to her?"
"Get off me and I can tell you," Draco said after a long silence in which Potter remained very still and very quiet. Draco had almost thought that Potter had passed out, but Potter was still mumbling words just under his breath. He wasn't sure what Potter was saying but he caught the occasional word. He'd sworn one of the words was 'pretty.' Potter must have been referring to Granger. He was about to agree that his friend was indeed pretty, thinking it would appease Potter, when Potter turned his head and stared deep into Draco's eyes.
"You're pretty," Potter slurred. He leaned in closer and clumsily pressed his lips to Draco's mouth. He only managed to kiss the left corner, but then Potter tilted his head to engulf Draco's mouth completely, smothering him until it was hard to breathe. The taste of alcohol made Draco gag. Draco twisted his head away, and he finally managed to push Potter up, though not off.
"You're pissed," Draco said. They stayed like that, staring into each other's eyes, for what felt like ages. This close, Draco could see Potter's anger deflate.
"That I am," Potter whispered. His eyes glazed over and he turned his head to lay it on Draco's chest. "You've ruined everything," he muttered, his hands sliding over Draco's body, stroking Draco's arm.
Draco barely made out the words. He wanted to push Potter off. He could feel his body going limp, but at the same time he was too afraid that any movement might awaken that anger again.
"She trusted me," Potter continued to mutter. "They all trusted me. It still ended in tears." His voice grew fainter and his body limper. The stroking stopped and Potter's hand slipped over the edge of the sofa, flopping down to hit the floor.
Draco waited until Potter's chest rose and fell steadily and his breath evened out. He slid Potter's glasses from his face and tossed them away, relieved they didn't shatter Really, it didn't matter because, if they did, somebody could have repaired them easily. Draco had more pressing concerns at the moment, like Potter's dead weight pushing down on him. He shifted until Potter slipped off and fell to the floor with a loud thud. Potter didn't even awaken. He lay where he'd fallen, arms and legs akimbo.
There was something about how pathetic this man who lay before him was that sparked compassion in Draco's heart. Most likely, by tomorrow this whole incident would be completely forgotten by Potter. Draco stared down at the saviour of the Wizarding world and couldn't help prevent the slight pang of sympathy that rose in his chest.
He briefly thought to move Potter to his bedroom, but Draco was much too tired and sore. Potter would just have to spend the night on the floor. It served him right, after what he'd done.
Though Draco was unwilling to put effort into dragging Potter to his bed, he did reach down and pull up the elastic of Potter's pyjama bottoms. One side had ridden low on Potter's hip, and Draco was in danger of seeing much more of Potter than he cared to.
"Pathetic," Draco muttered as he pulled his blanket tightly around himself. He wouldn't risk turning his back on Potter now. He lay, facing the unconscious form, starting when Potter grunted and shifted. The sound of soft snores filled the air.
Tomorrow this would all be another moment in Draco's already sorry life, but now he knew that he hadn't been the only one who'd come away from the war scarred. He needed answers and Draco knew just where to find them, or more accurately who to ask. He reached up and touched his lips. He'd swear they still tingled from the clumsy kiss Potter had laid on him. For now, Draco stared down at Potter. Draco was sure he would never fall asleep. When he finally did drift off a short time later, his head was filled with thoughts of sloppy kisses and strong hands.