Deliverance | Draco Malfoy

One

Until the doors shut and the candles and lanterns blew out, then the brains were suddenly a problem. "I was a smartass." He would say. "Someone who thought they knew more than him," and in his mind, no one knew more than he did— except for the Dark Lord who he held a shrine for in what I always assumed was supposed to be a chapel in our ancient home. A home that had been around for too many generations and was up-kept by so many wards and house-elves.

The other half of the brains could be used to his advantage— it was the elephant memory that I was blessed with. "Well, if you'd rather bitch about all the things I require of you than actually do them, I can just teach you a lesson like I did last night." He'd seethe at me.

In 16 years, I never forgot a single lesson.

If I was luckier, my brains and intelligence would've spoken to the sorting hat when I was eleven-years-old and that dingy old thing would have stuck me in Ravenclaw instead of Slytherin. But I wasn't lucky. Nor was I brave considering how I cowered away from my father's hands and accepted my lessons instead of kicking back and fighting— so Gryffindor was also out of my radar.

Maybe it was because I had walked in to the Great Hall that night with the group of prestigious boys that I had known for as long as I could remember, or just the fact that I checked off most of the prejudiced boxes that people made up about the house of green and silver:

Pure blooded like Salazar himself intended— check.

Determined... to find a life better than this one some day... — check.

Came from a heritage of Death Eaters— check.

Had the name Rookwood pinned as my surname— check.

Back to the topic that didn't entirely involve my sorry excuse for a sperm donor— my mother. Like I had said, she nailed a few of the marks on the head when she argued for months with my father about naming me Rain. The "beauty" and "positives." She also hit the nail on the head with the negatives... I think she accidentally saddled me with a curse when she held me in her arms for the first time on October 31st, 1979 and she greeted me with the name while lightning cracked across the sky outside the window. The day of my birth was when I became someone destined for a life full of disappointment and servitude towards others no matter how battered and bruised I would be or would feel.

"I'm so close. Just a little further, Ray." The grip on my hair tightened and his panting and uncontrolled moans were almost as loud as my gagging. My thumbs rubbed circles over his cream-colored skin while I held on to his hips in both of my hands. The little twitch they did before he gave a slight buck down my tongue let me know that I had him right where he wanted to be— on the edge of total destruction.

I loved when I held him on edge sometimes— just so I could hold on to a little sliver of what it feels like to have control over my actions for once in my life. I enjoyed that I was capable of being what made him feel this good— so fucking good. That he always wanted my mouth wrapped around him, that I was who he wanted to bury himself into, and that I was who he devoted his time to— if I was being good. It shouldn't have felt so good to belong to someone, but in times like the one we were sharing right now, it did.

I tilted my head back slightly to look up at him through my lashes. It was so simple— stupid even— that it always worked as well as it did. Just a flutter of my lashes while he watched me take as much of his length into my sore mouth as I could would send him into orbit every time. Men. Sometimes it's too easy.

The muffled music outside the door was cheering me on while I tasted that first trickle of victory slide down my throat. I wasn't sure whose eyes had rolled back into their head first, but his grunts of sweet release made me feel like I was the one who had reached an orgasm. His shaking thrusts into my throat muffled my whimpers and I swallowed his load willingly.