Title: Rug Burn
Author: durendal ()
Furniture: bear skin rug
Rating: PG-13/R
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Notes: Thanks to Anna and Rube for the beta, and Aja for listening to me whine.
By the time Harry was twenty two he was used to being knocked unconscious and waking up in odd places. However, he was not used to such things happening while he and Ron were in the half price ticket stall in Leicester Square. He was also not used to waking up on something soft and plush.
Harry blinked slowly. His head was killing him, but his back was supported nicely.
"Why am I on a bear skin rug?" he muttered.
"Why wouldn't you be on a bear skin rug?" a sneery, familiar voice answered.
Harry pushed himself up. In front of him, cradling a glass of wine and smirking evilly was none other than Lucius Malfoy. They were in what appeared to be either a lounge or a very impressive office, with black wooden furniture, narrow windows, and tall mirrors. Built into one wall was an enormous fireplace, its mantel covered in various dastardly-looking artifacts. Lucius set his glass down on a table next to his armchair and folded his hands in a decidedly evil way. This was very bad, indeed. Harry was just glad he was still fully clothed.
"Lucius Malfoy," Harry said. "What's going on?"
"I would think that was fairly obvious," Lucius drawled. The older man was looking worse for the wear. His pale skin was sallow, and he had heavy lines around his eyes; being the leader of an evil death cult for so many years running has proven to be detrimental to his efforts in preserving his youthful charms. "You've been captured. We've decided those who killed our Dark Lord must pay for such a crime."
"It's been five years," Harry pointed out.
Lucius sniffed. "We've been very busy. Taking over the Wizarding World takes a great deal of planning, you understand."
"Where's Ron?" Harry demanded.
Lucius smirked, and a cold shudder went through Harry. "Oh yes," he drawled cruelly, "Mister Weasley. I'm afraid he won't be surviving the torture inflicted upon him by my fellow Death Eaters."
***
"You numbskull, that's not how you spell 'crucio,'" Ron snapped. He flicked Crabbe's game pieces off the board. "There's no 'y' in it!
Crabbe blinked slowly. "There is too. Kroo-see-yo."
Ron couldn't believe this moron. "Oh yeah? Prove it then. Go on, get a bloody dictionary or something-- I'm still chained to the wall."
As Crabbe bumbled out of the room in search of the book, Ron sighed. "Sodding Death Eaters. Honestly, can't anyone do anything right around here?"
***
"You bastard!" Harry shouted.
He didn't care much about what happened to him -- frankly, he was still surprised he had lived this long -- but the last thing he wanted was for Ron to be hurt because of him.
"You, on the other hand, will be lucky if you *do* die. Your torturer," Lucius announced, "will be my son." He pulled his robe towards himself in one unnecessarily dramatic sweep, revealing Draco standing behind him.
"Were you there the entire time?" Harry asked.
"Quiet, Potter," Draco spat. He pulled on the edges of his black gloves. He was dressed from head to toe in black fabric, his pale skin contrasting sharply.
"No, really, I never heard you come--"
"Father, can I just kill him?" Draco interrupted, turning to Lucius. "If he keeps talking I'll never get my speech out."
Lucius frowned. "Not yet. Patience. You may, however, do anything else you want with him."
Draco knelt beside Harry as Lucius left the room. Harry had never been particularly afraid of the younger Malfoy, but when he was leaning over him and dressed like an executioner, Harry couldn't help feeling a tad nervous. "I've dreamt about this for years, Potter," Malfoy drawled. "Me, with your life in my hands, you, tied up and naked on a bear skin rug..."
"Er," Harry said.
Draco slapped him, hard. "Did I give you permission to *speak*?" Draco hissed.
Not knowing what else to do, Harry slapped Draco back -- or he tried to, but since his arms were tied, it came out as a punch. Draco fell to the floor, blood streaming from his nose.
"I'm not naked," Harry said.
His fingers throbbed, and he could see Malfoy's rage rising. But all he could think about was Ron, suffering at the hands of the Death Eaters. Harry needed to get them both out of there. "Listen, you don't have to do this."
***
"Triple word score," Ron announced proudly.
Crabbed scowled. "A-L-T-R-I-C-I-A-L isn't a word."
Ron put out his hand. Crabbe handed him the dictionary.
***
Malfoy wiped his nose on his black gloves, and then looked down at his own hands disdainfully. "Do what, Potter?" he asked sarcastically.
"Torture me," Harry snapped. "Be a Death Eater."
"Actually, yes, I do."
Harry frowned. "But... I know you can be redeemed."
"Redeemed," Malfoy sneered. "I don't even know what that means." He paused. "Well, I do, but you get the idea."
"Right," Harry said.
Draco crawled towards him. It was an odd thing to watch; he had lost that gangly awkwardness of youth, so instead of looking ridiculous he seemed almost attractive. Almost.
"What part of Death Eater don't you understand?" Malfoy drawled. When they were almost face to face Harry had a fleeting moment of panic, thinking that maybe Draco was going to kiss him, but instead the man grabbed a fistful of Harry's hair. Harry gritted his teeth against the searing pain, and he barely heard Draco continue, "I told you before that I had been waiting for this for a long time, Potter."
"What about Ron?" Harry hissed, writhing. He was sure Malfoy was going rip his scalp off.
Abruptly, Malfoy let go. Harry wobbled.
"Why does it always come back to him? Even after Hogwarts you two are inseparable. Why, you'd think you were in love with him. Is that what's going on, Potter? Are you two going to get married and have scarred redheaded children like good Gryffindors?"
"That's stupid," Harry retorted. "For one thing, we're both men. For another, you sound like you're jealous."
"I'd never be jealous of a Weasley!" Malfoy nearly shrieked.
***
Ron sputtered angrily. "Come off it! 'Nestlebum' is not a word!"
"It's German," Crabbe protested. "For, erm, Christmas."
"I'm going to go mad," he muttered.
***
"You always have been," Harry yelled. "Ever since we were kids you wanted to hurt him."
"Don't act like you never had any feelings for me," Draco sneered.
Harry goggled. "What? Are you insane?"
It was at that point that Malfoy decided to kiss him. Harry wasn't quite sure what he was expecting, but this was certainly not it. He had never kissed another man before, but it didn't feel that different really; Malfoy's lips were a bit thinner, and he didn't have that soft, slippery feel from glosses and lipsticks. But when Malfoy weaved his fingers through Harry's hair -- gentler, this time -- and slipped his tongue into Harry's mouth, his mind turned to mush.
When they parted, Harry stammered, "I think you need to untie my hands."
"Finite incantum." The rope fell to the floor. Malfoy practically climbed on top of him, and slipped his hand under Harry's robes. Unsure of what to do, Harry just kissed him and tried his best not to panic. He jumped when Malfoy's hands slid under the waistband of his jeans to roughly stroke his cock into his jeans.
"Oh!" Harry exclaimed. He pushed his hips forward. Malfoy smirked.
"I knew you wanted me," Draco sneered, curling his fingers round Harry's erection. Draco was watching his own hand. "I wanted you since we were teenagers, but the whole Death Eater verses Saviour of the Wizarding World thing sort of got in the way. Well, now I have you, don't I?"
Harry blinked. It hit him then that he was receiving a hand job from Draco Malfoy in the centre of Lucius Malfoy's evil office.
"Malfoy," he whispered, and Draco looked up at him, pupils dark and dilated. "Close your eyes."
Harry pulled the bear skin rug over Malfoy's head. "What are you--?" came a muffled question. But Harry shoved him back down. "That's--" He sat on Draco's legs to keep him from kicking. "I'm not really into--" And then he slammed Malfoy's head on the floor once, hard. When he was sure Draco was unconscious, he pulled the wand from Draco's robes.
"Ron had better appreciate this," he grunted.
***
"How did you get that wand?" Ron asked, as Harry stepped over Crabbe's petrified body.
"I, er, pounded Draco Malfoy," Harry said. He didn't add, "After nearly having sex with him." He unchained Ron and looked around the room. "Have you been playing Scrabble this entire time?"
Ron rubbed his sore wrists. "It's a lot more painful than it looks."