Author: Darkasphodel (
![[info]](http://stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
darkasphodel)Rating: R. Warnings: Blade!kink, clearly, and more than a little misuse of religion.
Canon: Pre-HBP.
Length: 650 words.
Scenario: I promise to indulge your knife kink.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the sole property of J. K. Rowling, Warner Bros., Christopher Little Agency and associates. No money is made from this work, it is purely a work of fanfiction.
Notes: Thank you everyone who held my hand for this, I know it's odd, and you gave me confidence.
Howbeit in vain do they worship me
I promise to indulge your need for this blade�
~~
He is impure skin stretched over pure bone, and Harry�s head falls back in calm anticipation. He thinks about pure and impure and all the letters and spaces in between, and knows that he is more the second and less the first, and this is why he needs
and Draco calls him saviour.
It is lament on Draco, not reverence on everyone but, and this is why he does. His chest rises and falls and stretches muscles stretched over arms stretched over the pure steel bar suspended from the ceiling by pure steel chains
and Harry is suspended.
In time, in place, in a single moment in Draco�s eyes, he is suspended, and this is why he wants. In the blade of the knife held just so over his heart, he is suspended and reflected a million times
and a million moments.
Harry wonders if they will reach that number someday, because they have done already in Harry�s mind, over and over, and sometimes, it�s silver and black and red because it is truth, and not the fallacy of dreams. Harry doesn�t think there's a million drops of blood in his body, and he hopes Draco thinks too, but sometimes, sometimes he knows he won't mind, on that million and first, because this is heaven
and this is hell.
Harry lifts his head and is suspended by Draco�s gaze for another moment, before offering himself as a prayer to some unnamed entity as Draco begins to press and he is pressed, and his head falls back in calm ecstasy
and Draco calls him sacrifice.
Down it drags in Draco�s hand, leaving a fiery trail of more pure than impure in its wake, and this is why he exists. Harry knows the path, the way, and waits patiently, saintly, as Draco follows behind
and this is his affliction.
Tears spill red from his skin because they can�t won't spill from his mouth, his eyes, and this is why he despairs. His head lies back in quiet supplication as Draco kneels silently before him and traces and journeys the path in Harry�s mind
and this is his penance.
He remembers when he was innocent, before he painted the world in death, and this is why he whispers. Forgive me, for I have sinned. The knife, pure, he thinks, the knife makes it�s final curve and cut to join lines, and the reasons congregate in his flesh and Draco bears witness as the snake slithers from the mouth of the devil
and in blood he is baptised.
The knife tolls softly on stone, and his head bows forward in submission. He looks, forces his eyes to take in the curse writ in his chest, and this is why he has fallen. But Draco is there and pure and bright, and his cheek rests upon Harry�s hip and his hand that has cleansed curls up and up. This time, Harry�s head falls back in exultation
and Draco calls him divine.
Lips slide wetly over as tongue moves under and now Harry is the one whispering prayers and promises, and he can�t say if he is worshipping or worshipped, only that he is thankful. Hands move to cup and hold and Harry is gazing down in wonder and devotion at this man, and this, this, this is rapture as he�s drawn closer and farther
and he is not forsaken.
Worthy, Draco says as he rises, and Harry�s face is lifted until he is suspended in Draco�s touch. Redeemed, Draco says as he moves, and the scar upon Harry�s head is bathed in the press of his lips. Absolved, Draco says as he draws his wand, and Harry is a millionth of a step closer to more pure than impure because he is again unmarked. This is why he lives
and in love he is saved.
