Part 13: Point of No Return
As you look around this room tonight
Settle in your seat and dim the lights
Do you want my blood, do you want my tears?
What do you want?
What do you want from me?
"What Do You Want From Me", Pink Floyd
Hermione finished her tale at three o'clock in the morning. She had talked softly, but Ron hadn't lost one single word, listening attentively, not daring to move from the doorframe, not tearing his eyes from his friend once.
Now they were both silent, both thinking even if about different things. Ron was considering the sudden information, trying to order and digest them. Hermione, instead, was uncertain if she was relieved for finally having told Ron everything or scared for his possible reaction. In the end, her friend sighed deeply and sat on the bed next to her.
"It's a big mess, Herm."
She simply nodded at that statement.
"But somehow we should solve it. I think that the only thing we could do is talk to them," he suggested, smiling softly.
"When?"
"Tomorrow, first thing in the morning," he said. Hermione nodded softly, but she didn't seem really convinced.
Ron embraced her, gently. Hermione flinched, surprised, but suddenly relaxed while he caressed her hair slowly.
"Don't worry Herm. I'll be with you," he whispered and she hugged him back, feeling reassured by his presence.
They stayed so, for a long while, until she spoke again, her voice muffled against his neck.
"Ron."
"Yes?"
"Can I sleep here?"
"Sure."
They parted, but only slightly. Hermione raised her gaze, a little shy smile on her lips. Then, slowly, while he looked at her confused and surprised, she leaned against him, placing her lips on his, tentatively. He blinked, feeling a surge of electricity travel through his body.
They parted again, and Hermione looked at him, fearing but needing a reaction. She didn't have to wait for long, because after a while he repeated her gesture, gently brushing her skin, unconsciously requesting for something more. That something more that Hermione gave him parting her lips slightly, allowing his tongue to enter her mouth, sweetly, adoringly.
They had been friends for a long time. What happened in those few moments was past that mild feeling. It was beyond reasoning and alliance. It was as finally crossing a falling bridge, reaching the point of no return.
Their kiss was the hole in a dam. It was nothing compared to the barrier it was damaging. A kiss was nothing against years of faithful friendship. But at the same time it was enough because it made the dam collapse all at once.
The spark that made the fire broke out.
"Ron."
"Yes?"
"Can I sleep with you?"
"Sure."
Draco drew back slowly, never tearing his eyes from Harry. The other man observed him smirking. Draco could understand the amusement. It said what they both knew: they had crossed the line. And now they were at the point of no return.
"Scared Draco?"
The blonde thought better than to answer. He observed how Harry's smile grew.
"You should," Harry said, slowly closing the distance that Draco had unconsciously created.
He was so close now. The Slytherin could sense rage, hate and danger emanate from Harry. He barely had time to think that he had opened the gates of hell before it began.
Harry punched him right at the pit of his stomach, knocking the air out of him. Draco bent forward, clutching his abdomen, his eyes widened in shock. He tried to breath but he found he couldn't do it. He blinked, slumping at the floor when suddenly Harry caught him.
Draco said nothing. He still couldn't breathe and just when he realized that he was actually suffocating, Harry leaned on him, kissing him viciously. The Slytherin felt his head spin and his body go numb at the lack of oxygen. Harry was still violating his mouth but he couldn't do anything.
Harry kissed him some more before biting hard his lower lip, opening again his fresh wound, tasting his blood victoriously. It was then that Harry noticed that the Slytherin’s grey eyes were rolling back in his head. He parted from him smirking.
"What Draco? Fainting, already? But we had just began and you'll miss all the fun."
Then, clutching the collar of Draco’s shirt, Harry held him up and slapped him. Hard. Once. Twice. Trice. Finally, Draco answered to that assault with a sharp intake of air. He blinked regaining his consciousness, breathing hard, becoming more and more aware of the pain that pounded in his stomach and on his face. Harry let him go and he slumped on the floor. The Gryffindor observed the scene slightly amused.
"Get up, Draco."
The fair-haired man didn't react. Harry shook his head and, suddenly, he kicked the man lying at his feet. His shoe connected with Draco's ribs heavily, and as soon as the pain crossed him, the Slytherin had to restrain a scream.
"Get up."
Slowly, Draco pushed himself up on unsure legs, clutching his chest where he could feel a pair of cracked ribs. Harry put his hands on Draco's shoulder, softly.
"Next time don't make me repeat," he said sweetly, while his fingers dug deeper and deeper into Draco's flesh. "Ok?" Harry asked.
Draco blinked, raising his gaze until meeting the green one. Green and out of control. He nodded.
"Clever boy," Harry stated, leaning to lick Draco's blood from his lips. "Mmm... You taste good," he stated, while his mouth travelled until it reached the Slytherin's neck.
Harry kissed and sucked the soft skin and, unconsciously, Draco moaned at that contact. Then, suddenly, he bit down, hard, on the delicate flesh, until he drew blood. He smiled, the coppery taste filling his mouth, and kissed again his victim, roughly, violently.
Draco felt sick at the taste of his own blood. He struggled, trying to get free. Unfortunately, Harry didn't like the weak show of rebellion and hit him again, in his stomach and in his chest, several times until the Gryffindor seemed to get tired of that and shoved him away forcefully.
Draco drew back under the thrust and, losing his balance, he fell against the wall behind him, hitting a picture with his head. The glass smashed and fell on the floor where soon the Slytherin slumped half unconscious, leaving a trail of blood on the wall due to his head wound. Harry sighed.
"Look what you've done."
Draco said nothing, fighting to remain conscious, focusing on the pounding pain in his head. Harry looked at the other man. The Slytherin looked liked a broken doll, slouching on the ground, leaning against the wall. He was a mess, with his beautiful face abandoned on his chest, stained with blood and bruised. His usual platinum hair, once wet with rain, looked a deep red-brown thanks to a deep cut he had received by the shattering glass.
Harry moved towards him and sat on the floor in front of him. Then, he placed a hand under Draco's chin and forced him to look up.
"Tired yet?" He asked.
Draco blinked, pondering the question. And then he answered.
"No. Go on, Harry. I'm sure you can do worse than this," he said in a cracking voice.
Harry narrowed his eyes, angrily. Then, almost lazily, he took a piece of glass from the floor. He played with it for a while, studying its sharpness. Finally, smirking, he pointed it at Draco's cheek, pressing as much as he could without drawing blood.
Harry studied the silver gaze and he noticed how it didn't waver. Not for an instant. Then, he sighed, moving the tip of the glass from Draco's face down to his neck. When he reached the collar of the shirt, Harry used it to cut the fabric. Then, he ripped it open revealing pale bruised skin.
Draco’s eyes were following Harry's actions, and the Gryffindor knew it. He felt really good in doing what he was doing. The taste of blood in his mouth was delirious. Harry smiled softly and slowly pushed the glass blade on that smooth skin. Cutting. Blood again, accompanied by a convulsive breath.
Harry looked while the crimson liquid oozed on the whiteness of Draco's skin. The contrast was amazing. From the Slytherin’s pale complexion, you would think that he had milk in his veins. But that was unmistakably blood. Harry’s tongue wouldn't lie to him. In fact, he slowly surveyed the fresh wound with his tongue, leaving a trail of blood and saliva.
Finally{, Harry looked at the other. Draco seemed to be observing him in a detached way. This made Harry smile and he leaned towards the pale man, kissing his mouth softly, teasingly. Draco moaned in pleasure and pain, because while Harry tongue was busy exploring hungrily his mouth, the glass in his hand had begun to find, once more, its sick way over his chest and arms, leaving a trail of cuts, some deeper, some less.
"Mmm... Glad you like it, Draco," Harry said, parting from the Slytherin’s lips.
The fair-haired man smiled, disgusted at the statement.
"I'm just complying with your madness."
Harry narrowed his eyes and suddenly, his hands caught Draco's throat, squeezing it dangerously. Then, he raised the glass blade and pointed it under the Slytherin’s right eyes.
"Pay attention to what you say, Draco," he spat out venomously. "I feel like I could kill you."
Draco didn't answer. He couldn't speak since his lungs lacked the needed air, but throwing aside every care he mouthed two words:
Do it.
Harry narrowed his eyes at those silent words. Then, he shook his head and laughed.
"Always sure of yourself. Good. It wouldn't be funny if you gave in too easily. Besides, we have plenty of time to play," he said, letting go the pale slender throat.
Draco breathed hardly. Before he could manage to do anything about it, Harry began to drag him toward the bedroom.
"Come on, Draco. You look like a damn corpse," he said, letting go of Draco who fell on the floor of Harry's room with a dull noise.
"Very well," Harry said, taking the wand from his pocket and rolling it lazily between his fingers. "Do you know that pain becomes you? You look so good hurt and bruised."
The Gryffindor pointed the wand at Draco and muttered few words.
"But you look even better this way," Harry stated, smirking at the Slytherin, who was firmly bound on his bed.
Again, Draco didn't answer. And Harry sighed.
"My, my Draco. What's with this silence? You wanted me to make you scream, didn't you?"
The Gryffindor climbed on the bed and sat on Draco's legs, looking at him questioningly.
"You wanted me to make you bleed. To hurt you. I am exhausted from trying to live up to your expectations, Draco. What else do you want from me?" Harry asked softly, his green eyes burning dangerously, while he seemed to be thinking about an answer. Draco said nothing, but he could see the dreamy smile on Harry’s face. He was not surprised by the next words.
"Oh right. I still have to break you."
It was a rabid beast that was ripping away what remained of Draco's clothes. And it was a hungry beast that was savouring the bruised and bloodied skin, licking, sucking.
Draco shivered under the assault, but he couldn't tell if it was fear or something else. He was in a daze, looking at his body react slightly at Harry's movements and barely listening at his mind screaming in horror.
He managed to remain conscious, but he was observing everything in a detached way, as if it wasn't him who was firmly tied up, naked, wounded and exposed. Coldly, he looked at Harry unzipping his trousers and lowering on him, that shark smile still on his lips.
Draco kept contemplating the scene from far away until a sudden burning pain crossed his body, making it arch involuntarily. He breathed deeply, trying to relax under Harry's intrusion, trying not to think about the pain, the humiliation and that warm wet sensation he could feel oozing between his legs.
Harry pushed hard, again and again, inside that tight violated warmness, until Draco couldn't help but cry in pain. Only then, he stopped, looking down at the upset face of the Slytherin.
"Draco," he called softly.
The fair-haired man opened his eyes slowly, focusing them on Harry. The Gryffindor registered a plain, deep desperation in those silver pools. But he didn't care, not now.
"Does it hurt?"
Draco didn't answer. He blinked confused, breathing hard, with his chest crushed under Harry's weight.
"Do you want to know why it hurts so much?" Harry asked, touching Draco's hair lightly, brushing it away from his sweaty forehead. "Because there's no love. There will never be love for you. And now do your job, be my whore and let me fuck you," he stated smirking.
Draco looked at him astonished, until Harry began again to take his pleasure from the pale body. He blinked, suddenly detached again. Harry was fucking him, but he could only think about the words he had just said. His body was screaming in pain but he couldn't feel it. Because the only thing that mattered in that moment was the pain clutching at his heart, threatening to make it implode in sufferance and desperation.
No love. There was no love in what was happening in that room. Not in what had happened in every room every day of Draco's life. And he was just realizing it.
Harry frowned, observing that the Slytherin had gone silent and still. The dark-haired man looked at him, noticing his face turned on one side. Harry frowned deeper.
"Draco."
The Slytherin didn't answer.
"Draco, look at me when I fuck you," Harry growled, angrily.
But still the other didn't answer, making him lose his little patience. Harry slapped him, making the blonde head jerk towards him. And only then he noticed it.
Shining trails on pale skin. Silent tears on a face that maybe, for the first time, was speaking volumes.
It was like suddenly looking straight into Draco's soul. It was like touching his pain and his emptiness. And Harry was realizing that he was the cause. For the first time, he realized just what he was doing.
What followed was a rush. Harry drew back quickly, without tearing his gaze from those crystalline pearls. Automatically, he pulled up his trousers. Then he opened his mouth, trying to say something, but everything had been washed away by those tears.
Harry looked again at the pale shape pinned on his bed. And he blinked.
What have I done?
The answer to his question was right there, still and sad as broken doll. Only it wasn't a doll. It was Draco. Draco, who kept crying helplessly, silently, bitter desperate tears escaping from his unfocused silvery eyes.
Harry stepped back blindly, until he had his back against the wall. He felt trapped. He wanted to run away even if, deep inside, he knew that there wasn't a place where he could hide. He couldn't escape from himself, but he couldn't even stay there any longer.
Finally, he raised his wand and disapparated.
You can lose yourself this night
See inside there is nothing to hide
Turn and face the light
What do you want from me?