Fic: Oblivion (Draco/Albus S.)
Jun. 25th, 2013 11:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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hp_rarefestTitle: Oblivion
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
melusinahp
Pairing: Draco/Al
Prompt: own prompt
Summary: Magic isn't the only way of dealing with unpleasant memories.
Word Count: 5225
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): Age disparity 44/18, extremely dubious consent/non-con and much angst
Disclaimer:Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
A/N: Love to G and F for betaing.
"We're making Susan Bones the new Healer-in-Charge." Cecilia gave Draco a strained smile, then leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her plump stomach.
"Really." Draco remained still and kept his face expressionless. He couldn't claim to be surprised, but that didn't assuage his disappointment or sweeten the bitter taste in his mouth.
"I'm sorry, Draco. I know you were expecting it would be you this time."
"I no longer allow myself to have any expectations." Blood pounded in his temples as the realisation set in. It was never going to be him. After twenty-two years of complete dedication and a virtually flawless record, he'd never be more than a mid-level Healer.
Cecilia's eyes softened. "It isn't fair. I know, Draco. If it were up to me--"
Her pity made his neck burn. "Never mind." He forced a smile. "It's the work that matters. Not the recognition. And it's not as if I need the extra money." He raised his hand to brush back his hair, letting her see the gold and platinum watch on his wrist.
The corner of her mouth curved upward. "No. I don’t suppose you do." She rose and extended her hand.
Draco shook it, gave her a nod, then left the Human Resources office and headed back towards Spell Damage. He kept his head down. If anyone tried to speak to him just then, he'd be liable to hex their mouth shut. The scar on his left arm began to itch--a cold tickle he couldn't soothe with scratching and a familiar companion to the metallic taste of frustration in his mouth. The ink had long faded, but the skin remained raised, white and visible to anyone who looked. He kept it covered in hope that would help the world forget the mistakes he'd made as a child. He'd been a fool.
If he'd shone, they might have forgiven him. If he'd made a spectacular career out of healing, he might have been able to forgive himself. Draco Malfoy, saver of lives. He had saved lives: young, old, witches and wizards, Muggle-born and pureblooded. He'd saved them. He, Draco Malfoy. They'd be dead if it weren't for him.
But none of it mattered. The world would never let him become anything more than he was now. At forty-four, he was permanently stuck as a mid-range healer--working, committed, but never shining, never achieving the glory he'd dreamt of when the idea first occurred to him as he sat by his parents in the Great Hall, surrounded by smoke, blood and the sobs of the grieving.
And, of course, the cheers. The accolades. For Potter, always. Glory raced toward Potter as if he were magnetised and away from Draco, further out of reach with each passing year, as if he were permanently repellent.
It wasn't fair. He reached his department and forced himself to focus and congratulate Susan with a facade of sincerity. He examined the board, reading through the list of new patients and their maladies. He'd bury himself in work for the rest of the day. Then he'd tear Astoria away from her latest lover, take her out for an irresponsibly expensive dinner, and get as drunk as possible on even more expensive wine.
He reached the last name on the list and went still as stone. A rush of cold shivered across his skin. Albus Severus Potter. Thomas Weller Ward, bed 28. Burns and minor lacerations.
Maybe the Potters weren't quite as lucky as Draco had always believed.
* * *
He'd seen Albus Potter before, of course--seen him across platform nine and three-quarters and a handful of times in Diagon Alley or elsewhere, here and there. The wizarding world simply wasn't large. As many times as Draco had seen Albus, he'd never really looked at him before.
Albus had a softer face than his father. He looked healthier--better fed. His hair was glossier and more of an attempt had been made to tame it. His eyes, well… Those were Potter's eyes. Draco glanced down at the parchment before the boy noticed him staring. Excitement burned in his belly and he wasn't sure why. For a moment he considered walking out of the room and Owling Astoria. She had a way of talking him down from his more vicious ideas. He glanced up again, and Albus Potter was looking straight at him, his brow creased, his fingers clutching the sheets over his legs.
He was here to do his job. That was all. The fact that this patient was Potter's son shouldn't threaten his ability to be professional. He put on his working smile and approached.
"Mr Potter. I'm--"
"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Scorpius's dad."
"Yes." Freckles. The boy must have inherited those from his mother. "You know my son from school?"
Albus nodded. "Not well, but we're in the same year." His eyelashes fluttered. "Different houses, so…"
"Of course." Scorpius had continued the Malfoy tradition of being sorted into Slytherin. The Potter boy, so Draco had heard, had followed in his own father's footsteps. He tore his gaze away from Albus Potter's face and took hold of the sheet. "Do you mind if I take a look?"
"Be kind of hard for you to heal me if I did mind." A charming smile. The boy had charisma. It must have been a recessive gene.
He gently pulled back the sheet. Albus was wearing only his pants--cotton boxers. His hands tightened into fists as Draco examined him. A livid streak of burnt skin ran down his skinny thigh and over his knee. It looked tender, but would be quick and easy to heal.
"How did this happen?" Draco summoned a jar of burn ointment. It floated out of the cupboard and into his waiting hand.
Albus rolled his eyes. "My brother. He's always messing about. Cast a backfiring jinx on my wand and it… backfired."
"It must have hurt." He unscrewed the lid of the jar. Albus watched attentively as Draco dipped in his fingers and scooped out a measure of ointment.
"I yelped. 'Like a little bitch', apparently."
Draco smiled to himself. "Your brother sounds like an angel."
"He's okay," Albus quickly responded. "Just gets carried away sometimes."
"If you say so." He rubbed the ointment between his palms to warm it.
"You're not going to tell my parents about this, are you?"
Draco raised an eyebrow.
"Just…" Albus sighed. "James didn't mean to. And I don't want them to worry."
"Well, I'm--"
"I'm of age." His voice took on a sharp edge. "Eighteen. You can't tell them unless I let you."
"Of course." Draco knelt down. "I suppose this will have to remain between the two of us." He paused. There was something about the way the boy was holding his mouth. On impulse, he continued. "Our little secret."
"Okay," Albus whispered. "Good. Thank you."
"I'm going to apply the ointment now. It will burn a bit, but not in a painful way. Are you ready?"
Albus nodded. The muscles of his legs tensed.
Draco started just below his knee, grasping him firmly, and moved upward. His fingers brushed through the sprinkling of soft, dark hair on Albus' thigh as he rubbed in the ointment. It only needed a light touch, but Draco let his hands kneed the boy's muscles, fascinated at the way Albus drew in his breath and held it.
"Bloody hell," Albus whispered. He closed his eyes and bit his lip. The tent in his thin, cotton pants made it clear why. "Oh god. I… I'm sorry."
Draco blinked. The wound melted away beneath his fingers, but he kept his hands where they were. What a lovely surprise. "Don't be embarrassed." He had to make an effort not to grin. "It's perfectly natural. Happens all the time."
"For you, probably." Albus' face was bright red and his lips were curved into a shaky smile.
Was he flirting? Draco kept their eyes locked until the boy laughed softly and looked away.
Glee swooped and curled within his chest. He removed his hands and wiped them on a cloth. "Are you feeling better, Mr Potter?"
"Can I put my trousers back on?"
"Of course." Draco made a point of watching him while he did so.
"It's great. Doesn't hurt at all any more. Thank you." Albus stood to fasten his fly and then buckled his belt. "You can call me Al, if you like."
Draco smiled. "You can call me Draco. But it's Healer Malfoy while we're in St Mungo's."
Albus licked his lips. "Will I see you outside of St Mungo's, then?"
He's just a boy. The same age as my son.
Albus gazed at him--expectant, yet stiff with nerves. Those familiar green eyes, holding such alluringly unfamiliar things behind them…
He's Potter's son. You will never get an opportunity like this again in your life.
Draco flipped a calling card out of his pocket and handed it to the boy. Albus' face lit up and his shoulders relaxed.
"Owl me," said Draco, "and we'll see."
* * *
The Vermillion was an ancient and very private club with an almost entirely pureblooded membership. Draco found it useless for networking; most of the wizards who frequented it were his father's age or older, deeply bitter, and lacking in useful connections. The place had atmosphere, nevertheless. And no one who saw him there would talk.
He had arranged a private booth. Candlelight gleamed against the red-leather and dark wood, making the space feel warm and intimate. Albus looked tender, his slightly damp hair appeared carefully combed, but stray locks had begun to escape and point in odd directions as it dried. He wore a crisp, white, button-down shirt but, to Draco's relief, no tie to complete the schoolboy effect.
He was very young. Draco was beginning to feel a bit ridiculous. It didn't need to be a sexual thing. They were just having drinks.
"What would you like, Albus?"
Albus glanced at Draco's wine glass. "Do they have lager here?"
"They have whatever I ask for."
Albus' eyebrows shot up and he grinned. "A mango daiquiri mixed with spiced Algerian rum and fresh limes. Um… with cinnamon sugar. And ice made from arctic glaciers."
Draco snapped his fingers. The drink materialised on a coaster in front of Albus. The boy's face lit up like it was Christmas and Draco's chest went warm.
"That's brilliant!" Albus took a sip of the drink, then frowned.
"Not nice?"
"It's a bit sweet."
Draco snapped his fingers again and the daiquiri was replaced by a pint of lager.
Albus laughed. So easily pleased. He picked up his drink and beamed at Draco as he gulped it. So much light in his eyes.
What was that like? To see the world as fresh and full of exciting surprises? No war behind him, no cache of regrets.
"Better?" asked Draco, and took a long drink of his own wine.
"Much."
It didn't take either of them long to drain their glasses. It was the Albus' idea to move on to firewhisky. The more he drank, the more he laughed. Soon, his cheeks began to shine and his movements became loose and generous.
Draco considered his next move. How did one keep an eighteen-year-old boy entertained? "What are your plans, Albus? Now that you've left Hogwarts? Following your father and brother into Magical Law Enforcement?"
"Al. Not Albus." He took another sip of the firewhisky; Draco watched him try not to wince. "Not sure yet. Don't think I'll become an Auror. I was thinking…" He lowered his face.
"Yes?" Without considering, Draco brushed a lock of hair from Albus' eyes so he could see them again.
Albus looked up. "Well, I was thinking of becoming a Healer. Like you."
Draco laughed.
Al's mouth twisted, and for a moment Draco was transported back in time. His hand twitched toward his wand.
"Why is that funny?" asked Al.
The wine had gone to Draco's head. His face felt hot. "Healing takes patience. And int--" He snapped his mouth shut. This was the son, not the father. He decided to stop drinking. Consciously, he softened his features. "I didn't mean it in a negative way." He slid his arm across the table and grasped Albus' hand. "I just find it interesting that you Potters all seem to need to save the world, one way or another."
"Oh…" The hard lines of his mouth melted into a smile. "Well, I don't know about that. I just like the idea of helping people."
"You're sweet." Draco didn't know how he could have even momentarily confused Albus with his father. They were so very different, aside from their looks.
Albus ran his thumb along Draco's knuckles. It sent a hard shiver down Draco's spine, which curled through his stomach, then came to rest in his balls. "You're… really sexy."
"Am I?"
"I've always thought so. I couldn't believe it when you walked through the door at St Mungo's. And then you put your hands on my leg… I thought…" He broke eye-contact. "Merlin. I'm getting bladdered."
He wants me. It seemed impossible. This bright, gorgeous young creature.
There'd been a moment, several years previously, when Draco had begun to wonder if the younger men in the clubs he frequented still saw him, or if they still saw him as someone they wanted to drag into one of the dark rooms at the back. Did his age affect his desirability? He'd try to catch their eye and sometimes they'd blank him completely or smile and then move on to someone younger.
Now and then he'd find a boy in his twenties who looked at his face and recognised something he wanted: maturity and command--or perhaps just a thin streak of cruelty. But mostly he'd had to move on to older men.
It had been a long time since he'd felt this buzz of hope and excitement when faced with a potential lover. Albus gazed at him with clear eyes, bright with desire yet veiled with shyness. Draco could sense how brave the boy felt he was being as he took Draco's fingers and brushed them across his lips.
Heart pounding, Draco collected himself. He drew out his time-tested smirk and ran the pad of his thumb along Albus' smooth jaw. "Well then… Albus." He lifted his tumbler and swirled the amber liquid around the glass. "Would you like to come upstairs with me tonight?"
Albus' eyes widened. A blush crept up his neck and across his freckled cheeks. His lips parted, but he didn't respond. His complete lack of guile made Draco's chest clench. His face broadcast every thought zipping through his mind.
"Tonight?"
Draco had forgotten that the young sometimes wanted to wait, to draw things out, as if they believed that sex--so new and miraculous--would last forever as something they could just reach out and grab at any moment. "I'm moving too fast."
And yet, Albus' face settled into determination. "No. I mean yes." He laughed softly and rolled his eyes. "Yes. I'd like to come upstairs with you." He lowered his chin and gazed at Draco, and then whispered. "Please."
He knows exactly what he'd doing. "Well then." Draco slid out of the booth and extended his hand. "I suggest we go."
* * *
The club contained a handful of discreet bedrooms in the upper floors, for those who wanted somewhere to sleep, or fuck, other than their own home. Draco led Albus up the stairs to his favourite.
"Have you done this before?" Trying to keep his hands steady, Draco undid the buttons on Albus' white shirt, one by one.
"I've done… things. But not…"
Merlin, Draco was going to take Potter's son's virginity. Once the shirt was open, he moved forward, pushing the boy back toward the wall. He pressed him hard against it and kissed him. Albus responded eagerly, twining his fingers in Draco's hair.
Draco's ears rang with excitement in a way that made what he was doing seem slightly unreal. "You're lovely," he murmured against Albus' neck as he slipped his shirt off his shoulders.
Albus braced his arms against the wall. The shirt clung to his elbows and hung in folds at the small of his back. "I'm not lovely. I'm handsome." He grinned into Draco's kiss. "No-- Rugged. I'm rugged and dashing."
"You're delicious." Draco kissed his neck, below the jaw, at the side, just above his shoulders. Albus shivered against his lips and Draco held him firmly by the waist.
"Lovely is for girls." Albus gasped, then whined softly as Draco pressed against him.
"All right." Draco slid his hand down Al's hip and then forward, between his legs. "You're dashing." He closed his fingers around Albus' cock.
Albus shuddered against him. "Oh god." He smelled of boy, fresh and earthy beneath the cheap cologne. It took Draco back to ancient school nights when he'd twisted in his bed behind the curtains, driven mad with lust and confusion by the sounds and smells of his roommates. He'd had no idea what to do, how to channel those feelings. But now… Now he did.
He bit Albus gently on his neck and pressed their groins harder together. Albus' breath caught. He scratched his fingernails against the wall. Draco tightened his palm against his cock; its heat and firmness made him desperate to get the boy completely undressed. Albus was like a musical instrument--anywhere Draco touched him caused a gasp, a shiver, a twist, or all at once. He ground himself against him. He could barely remember the last time he'd been so turned on.
"You know what I want to do to you, Albus?"
"What?" The boy was so breathless he could barely speak.
"I want to spread you out on the bed and shove my cock deep inside that sweet, virgin arse of yours."
Albus' body went rigid against his own. He made a gorgeous sound--a moan twisted with a squeak.
Draco bit his ear and held him fast. "Would you like that, Albus?"
There was a pause, then he nodded, tickling Draco's face with his hair.
"You want me to fuck you?"
"I…" Albus grabbed Draco's wrist and pulled his hand closer to his cock. "I think so." Draco lifted him up by his arse. Albus tightened his legs around his hips.
Draco's back immediately threatened to give out. He turned toward the bed and half laid, half dropped Albus down on it. The boy bounced against the mattress. Draco loomed over him and braced himself, arms on either side of his shoulders. The half-off shirt effectively tied Albus down. He grinned helplessly, his face flushed and radiant. Draco's head spun as he bent and licked his neck, and then trailed down his chest with small bites.
Albus arched and moaned, trying to pull his arms free. "You take off your shirt. It's unfair."
"Life is unfair." But Draco obeyed; he unbuttoned the black shirt he was wearing and let it slip to the floor behind him. It took him a second, then, to realise why Albus' expression had changed. "They're old."
"How did you get them?" He tried to lift his arm.
Draco kept his knee on the hem of his shirt and didn't let him. "It doesn't matter." His chest fizzed with unpleasant heat.
"Why couldn't you heal them?"
"Dark magic. They were worse before. Now shut up." He bent to kiss Albus and undid the boy's fly at the same time, trying to wipe all thought of his scars and how he'd received them from his mind. He slipped his hand down the front of Albus' pants and that did the trick nicely. His body radiated heat; Draco curled his fingers around Albus' balls and the boy cried out.
"God! Fuck! Careful, you'll… Oh hell, that feels good."
Grinning, Draco rubbed his thumb up the base of Albus' cock.
"Mmm!" The boy started to pant.
Draco realised that he should slow down. He let go and took hold of Albus' trousers. Albus lifted his hips to let Draco pull them down and off. Then the boy lay completely naked on the bed. "Look at you." Long and lean muscles, light body hair, pale skin… So young.
"God." Albus squeezed his eyes shut.
"Don't be embarrassed. You're… dashing."
Albus laughed.
Draco desperately wanted to have him. He was harder then he'd been in years. All that bright, beautiful youth and energy; he wanted it pinned down beneath his own body and he wanted to suck it up like a vampire.
Methodically, he undid his belt buckle and then his fly, letting Albus watch with his lips parted. He stepped out of his trousers, and then they were both naked.
Albus gaped at Draco's cock. He swallowed and his fingers went to his own and began to lightly stroke. "All of that," he whispered.
The boy had a way of making Draco feel good about himself. He grinned and said, "Lube." A pot appeared on the edge of the bed with a small pop.
Albus looked at it. "Even in here? I love this place." He took on a mischievous expression. "Firebolt 350!"
"You aren't a member, my dear. And I'd end up having to pay for it."
"Worth a try." He watched as Draco unscrewed the lid of the pot, and then he went quiet.
Draco had him scoot back on the bed so he could kneel between his knees. Albus' cock jutted upward from its nest of dark curls, plump and red. Draco rubbed the lube between his fingers, just as he had at the hospital. Then, with one hand, he began to stroke Albus; he slipped the index finger of the other between Albus' arse cheeks, found his entrance, and then pushed the tip of his finger inside him.
Albus' chest rose and fell. "Oh."
Draco pushed in further, continuing to gently fist Albus' cock.
"Oh my god," said Albus.
"Move your legs a bit further apart."
"I don't think I can move at all." He swallowed. "It feels really weird."
The flickering, now ancient seeming memory of the first time he'd let someone fuck him whispered though Draco's mind. He'd been terrified, but completely unwilling to show it. His lover--a friend's older brother--hadn't been gentle or particularly concerned with Draco's pleasure. It hadn't been a nice experience. Afterward, however, Draco felt immeasurably relieved to have finally done it.
"Draco." Albus' voice had faded to a whisper.
"Hmm?" Draco drove his finger in deeper and twisted it, making the boy gasp and arch his back.
Albus suddenly looked worried. "I'm not sure…"
"It will be fine. Just relax."
"It feels strange. I didn't think it would… I… I'm really drunk."
"Do you want me to stop?" Draco hadn't intended for his voice to have that edge. He was just so extremely aroused and the thought of having to give up now sent ice through his limbs.
Albus opened his mouth then closed it again. He shook his head.
To keep him sweet and eager, Draco took Albus' cock in his mouth before adding another finger. That did the trick. There was nothing but soft cries and moaning from the boy until Draco decided he should be ready.
He withdrew his hand and leant forward, supporting himself above the boy on his arms. "Here. Lift your legs over my shoulders."
"Okay." Albus kept blinking.
They fit together nicely. The boy was very limber. He stared up at Draco and looked as if he were about to say something. Then he closed his mouth and set his jaw.
"You're ready?" asked Draco. His balls had tightened like a teenager's and his cock was wet at the tip. He swirled the moisture around the head, mixing it with lube. He felt faint--dizzy with desire.
Albus continued to gaze up at him with anxious, green eyes. "Yeah."
Draco positioned himself, adjusting his hips to get the angle right. He'd prepared the boy well and the head of his cock pressed easily into his body.
Albus went rigid and started panting.
"It's okay," said Draco. "Just relax." His voice sounded distant, as if it weren't his own. He slid in deeper and moaned through his teeth as the boy's body enveloped him.
"Ahh!" Albus' legs shook, knobbly knees knocking against Draco's neck. "Merlin. It really hurts."
"No. It won't. Give it a second."
Draco pushed in further and Albus made a choking sound. His eyes had clouded over. "I can't… I can't do this."
"You're doing fine. You're perfect." Draco pressed his hips against Albus' arse. That was it. He was all the way inside him and Draco's body sung with pleasure. He hummed, then kissed Albus, thrusting slow and shallow as their lips met. Albus clutched at the back of Draco's neck and made soft sounds into his mouth.
"Oh god. Oh god."
It felt too good. Albus gripped him tight, hot and slippery and his body felt lithe and pliant beneath him. He wanted to pound, to take him hard. "You're perfect," Draco repeated, barely knowing what he was saying. Curls of heat swept over his skin. He started fucking Albus faster. The soft sounds the boy was making grew louder. He took his hands off Draco's neck and dug them into a pillow.
Draco felt granite hard as he fucked the boy, his face creased with exertion. His shoulders ached, but he was getting close. Need tightened in his cock and thighs like hot wires.
Albus strained beneath him, taught and trembling. "Please."
Draco barely heard him. He rode on a crest of vicious yearning, his thoughts splintering to pieces. Fuck you, Potter. You and your charmed life. You see what it's like to have what's precious taken from you. You suck up some of the pain for once.
Albus' had squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. He didn't make another sound until Draco finally thrust deep and hard one final time. Then Albus cried out and twisted the pillowcase in his hands.
Draco groaned deep in his throat as his orgasm tore through him; he shook, unable to stop. Then his elbows gave out. He collapsed on top of Albus.
"Salazar." His chest heaved and his breath escaped in loud, hoarse bursts.
"Okay," said Albus beneath him in a small, breathless voice. "Okay?" He started to squirm.
Draco rolled onto his back, still shaking and covered in sweat. Albus immediately scooted off the bed and fled into the bathroom. There was a loud click as the door locked behind him.
Draco wiped the sweat off his face. That had been rather intense. He felt oddly cold and shaky.
It occurred to him that he had no idea whether or not Albus had come as well.
Several minutes passed, and then the door opened a few inches. There was a pause; then it opened fully, and Albus emerged, looking shiny-eyed and parchment pale. He grinned, his focus of vision slightly to the left of Draco's eyes, and said, "Well. That was… I didn't expect, Mr Malfoy, that…"
The grin slid away. He swayed on his feet.
Draco leapt from the bed and grabbed him by the wrist before he fell. The boy's pulse throbbed spasmodically beneath his fingers.
Shock, Draco realised. He's in shock.
He helped him to the bed. Albus sat heavily and hugged himself. He lowered his head; his hair hung down, obscuring his face.
Draco's vision cleared. Albus was thin, as his father had been at the same age, but with an extra delicacy about his limbs and posture. The knobs of his spine, visible above his collar… Scorpius had the same look--the birdish awkwardness of the later teens.
Draco's shoulders curved forward.
Albus swallowed and inhaled. "I'm sorry if I wasn't very good. It took me a bit by surprise, is all." He peered up at Draco through his fringe with red-rimmed eyes. "I'll do better next time." He pressed his lips together--determined.
"I didn't mean for it to hurt so much," said Draco. Pressure rose in his stomach. His scar prickled and he pressed on it to make it stop.
Albus shook his head and opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything.
"I'll heal you," said Draco. "I shouldn't have been rough." He'd smooth this out. It would be okay. "You just drove me a bit mad with lust." He wondered if his smile looked as cracked as he thought it might.
Albus gave a thin, false laugh.
Draco gathered his clothes from the floor and began dressing. He pulled his wand from his pocket. "Here, Albus. I'll h--"
Albus shrunk away. "I just want to go home."
Irritated, Draco took his shoulder to hold him still and then cast a quick healing charm. "Better?"
Albus nodded. Draco cupped his cheek. Albus flinched and looked to the side, but he didn't pull away. "It's okay," Draco whispered. "It's going to be okay."
"I want to go home."
"Yes."
"I drank too much."
"You should get dressed."
Albus started, as if he hadn't realised he was still naked, and then quickly began pulling on his clothes. The white shirt was creased and missing a button on one cuff. Once he was dressed, Draco stepped close to him. Albus' entire body stiffened. Draco slid his fingers around the back of his neck. Albus looked down, his hands in fists.
"Shh," said Draco. Then, "Imperio."
Albus inhaled sharply. He struggled against the Curse, his eyes flashing, wet and furious.
"Shhh. Shh, Albus." Draco pressed their foreheads together and stroked the back of Albus' head until he felt him relax. "Go home. Go to sleep. When you wake up, I want you to believe you spent this evening in bed with a headache. You won't remember anything that happened."
The boy stared forward with dull, glassy eyes. Draco felt sick to look at him. He opened the door and Albus Potter walked out, just as he'd been instructed.
Draco showered. He gagged but wasn't quite able to be sick. He ordered pyjamas, a soft dressing gown and a snifter of strong brandy, but the smell of the alcohol made his stomach turn over. He settled on the bed and fiddled with his glass without drinking. The room felt cold and empty, so he lit a fire in the Floo.
He'd go to work tomorrow, like always. Things would continue as they always had.
A man could change. He could make up for his past mistakes. And Draco had. He'd worked hard to become a different person, a better person--mostly a better person.
No one knew and sometimes he could fool himself into ignoring the truth: deep down he was still that frightened, angry, vicious child who'd taken the Dark Mark. No one.
Aside from himself.
Self-Obliviation was prohibitively risky, and he'd never tell anyone, not even Astoria, how he'd lost control with the Potter boy. So he was stuck with the memory and with the knowledge of what lurked in the darker corners of his mind. Stuck with it for good.
He tipped the glass, until the brandy burned at his lips, and decided to persevere with the drink. Magic wasn't the only way of dealing with unpleasant memories.
-- The End
Author:
melusinahpPairing: Draco/Al
Prompt: own prompt
Summary: Magic isn't the only way of dealing with unpleasant memories.
Word Count: 5225
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): Age disparity 44/18, extremely dubious consent/non-con and much angst
Disclaimer:Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
A/N: Love to G and F for betaing.
"We're making Susan Bones the new Healer-in-Charge." Cecilia gave Draco a strained smile, then leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her plump stomach.
"Really." Draco remained still and kept his face expressionless. He couldn't claim to be surprised, but that didn't assuage his disappointment or sweeten the bitter taste in his mouth.
"I'm sorry, Draco. I know you were expecting it would be you this time."
"I no longer allow myself to have any expectations." Blood pounded in his temples as the realisation set in. It was never going to be him. After twenty-two years of complete dedication and a virtually flawless record, he'd never be more than a mid-level Healer.
Cecilia's eyes softened. "It isn't fair. I know, Draco. If it were up to me--"
Her pity made his neck burn. "Never mind." He forced a smile. "It's the work that matters. Not the recognition. And it's not as if I need the extra money." He raised his hand to brush back his hair, letting her see the gold and platinum watch on his wrist.
The corner of her mouth curved upward. "No. I don’t suppose you do." She rose and extended her hand.
Draco shook it, gave her a nod, then left the Human Resources office and headed back towards Spell Damage. He kept his head down. If anyone tried to speak to him just then, he'd be liable to hex their mouth shut. The scar on his left arm began to itch--a cold tickle he couldn't soothe with scratching and a familiar companion to the metallic taste of frustration in his mouth. The ink had long faded, but the skin remained raised, white and visible to anyone who looked. He kept it covered in hope that would help the world forget the mistakes he'd made as a child. He'd been a fool.
If he'd shone, they might have forgiven him. If he'd made a spectacular career out of healing, he might have been able to forgive himself. Draco Malfoy, saver of lives. He had saved lives: young, old, witches and wizards, Muggle-born and pureblooded. He'd saved them. He, Draco Malfoy. They'd be dead if it weren't for him.
But none of it mattered. The world would never let him become anything more than he was now. At forty-four, he was permanently stuck as a mid-range healer--working, committed, but never shining, never achieving the glory he'd dreamt of when the idea first occurred to him as he sat by his parents in the Great Hall, surrounded by smoke, blood and the sobs of the grieving.
And, of course, the cheers. The accolades. For Potter, always. Glory raced toward Potter as if he were magnetised and away from Draco, further out of reach with each passing year, as if he were permanently repellent.
It wasn't fair. He reached his department and forced himself to focus and congratulate Susan with a facade of sincerity. He examined the board, reading through the list of new patients and their maladies. He'd bury himself in work for the rest of the day. Then he'd tear Astoria away from her latest lover, take her out for an irresponsibly expensive dinner, and get as drunk as possible on even more expensive wine.
He reached the last name on the list and went still as stone. A rush of cold shivered across his skin. Albus Severus Potter. Thomas Weller Ward, bed 28. Burns and minor lacerations.
Maybe the Potters weren't quite as lucky as Draco had always believed.
* * *
He'd seen Albus Potter before, of course--seen him across platform nine and three-quarters and a handful of times in Diagon Alley or elsewhere, here and there. The wizarding world simply wasn't large. As many times as Draco had seen Albus, he'd never really looked at him before.
Albus had a softer face than his father. He looked healthier--better fed. His hair was glossier and more of an attempt had been made to tame it. His eyes, well… Those were Potter's eyes. Draco glanced down at the parchment before the boy noticed him staring. Excitement burned in his belly and he wasn't sure why. For a moment he considered walking out of the room and Owling Astoria. She had a way of talking him down from his more vicious ideas. He glanced up again, and Albus Potter was looking straight at him, his brow creased, his fingers clutching the sheets over his legs.
He was here to do his job. That was all. The fact that this patient was Potter's son shouldn't threaten his ability to be professional. He put on his working smile and approached.
"Mr Potter. I'm--"
"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Scorpius's dad."
"Yes." Freckles. The boy must have inherited those from his mother. "You know my son from school?"
Albus nodded. "Not well, but we're in the same year." His eyelashes fluttered. "Different houses, so…"
"Of course." Scorpius had continued the Malfoy tradition of being sorted into Slytherin. The Potter boy, so Draco had heard, had followed in his own father's footsteps. He tore his gaze away from Albus Potter's face and took hold of the sheet. "Do you mind if I take a look?"
"Be kind of hard for you to heal me if I did mind." A charming smile. The boy had charisma. It must have been a recessive gene.
He gently pulled back the sheet. Albus was wearing only his pants--cotton boxers. His hands tightened into fists as Draco examined him. A livid streak of burnt skin ran down his skinny thigh and over his knee. It looked tender, but would be quick and easy to heal.
"How did this happen?" Draco summoned a jar of burn ointment. It floated out of the cupboard and into his waiting hand.
Albus rolled his eyes. "My brother. He's always messing about. Cast a backfiring jinx on my wand and it… backfired."
"It must have hurt." He unscrewed the lid of the jar. Albus watched attentively as Draco dipped in his fingers and scooped out a measure of ointment.
"I yelped. 'Like a little bitch', apparently."
Draco smiled to himself. "Your brother sounds like an angel."
"He's okay," Albus quickly responded. "Just gets carried away sometimes."
"If you say so." He rubbed the ointment between his palms to warm it.
"You're not going to tell my parents about this, are you?"
Draco raised an eyebrow.
"Just…" Albus sighed. "James didn't mean to. And I don't want them to worry."
"Well, I'm--"
"I'm of age." His voice took on a sharp edge. "Eighteen. You can't tell them unless I let you."
"Of course." Draco knelt down. "I suppose this will have to remain between the two of us." He paused. There was something about the way the boy was holding his mouth. On impulse, he continued. "Our little secret."
"Okay," Albus whispered. "Good. Thank you."
"I'm going to apply the ointment now. It will burn a bit, but not in a painful way. Are you ready?"
Albus nodded. The muscles of his legs tensed.
Draco started just below his knee, grasping him firmly, and moved upward. His fingers brushed through the sprinkling of soft, dark hair on Albus' thigh as he rubbed in the ointment. It only needed a light touch, but Draco let his hands kneed the boy's muscles, fascinated at the way Albus drew in his breath and held it.
"Bloody hell," Albus whispered. He closed his eyes and bit his lip. The tent in his thin, cotton pants made it clear why. "Oh god. I… I'm sorry."
Draco blinked. The wound melted away beneath his fingers, but he kept his hands where they were. What a lovely surprise. "Don't be embarrassed." He had to make an effort not to grin. "It's perfectly natural. Happens all the time."
"For you, probably." Albus' face was bright red and his lips were curved into a shaky smile.
Was he flirting? Draco kept their eyes locked until the boy laughed softly and looked away.
Glee swooped and curled within his chest. He removed his hands and wiped them on a cloth. "Are you feeling better, Mr Potter?"
"Can I put my trousers back on?"
"Of course." Draco made a point of watching him while he did so.
"It's great. Doesn't hurt at all any more. Thank you." Albus stood to fasten his fly and then buckled his belt. "You can call me Al, if you like."
Draco smiled. "You can call me Draco. But it's Healer Malfoy while we're in St Mungo's."
Albus licked his lips. "Will I see you outside of St Mungo's, then?"
He's just a boy. The same age as my son.
Albus gazed at him--expectant, yet stiff with nerves. Those familiar green eyes, holding such alluringly unfamiliar things behind them…
He's Potter's son. You will never get an opportunity like this again in your life.
Draco flipped a calling card out of his pocket and handed it to the boy. Albus' face lit up and his shoulders relaxed.
"Owl me," said Draco, "and we'll see."
* * *
The Vermillion was an ancient and very private club with an almost entirely pureblooded membership. Draco found it useless for networking; most of the wizards who frequented it were his father's age or older, deeply bitter, and lacking in useful connections. The place had atmosphere, nevertheless. And no one who saw him there would talk.
He had arranged a private booth. Candlelight gleamed against the red-leather and dark wood, making the space feel warm and intimate. Albus looked tender, his slightly damp hair appeared carefully combed, but stray locks had begun to escape and point in odd directions as it dried. He wore a crisp, white, button-down shirt but, to Draco's relief, no tie to complete the schoolboy effect.
He was very young. Draco was beginning to feel a bit ridiculous. It didn't need to be a sexual thing. They were just having drinks.
"What would you like, Albus?"
Albus glanced at Draco's wine glass. "Do they have lager here?"
"They have whatever I ask for."
Albus' eyebrows shot up and he grinned. "A mango daiquiri mixed with spiced Algerian rum and fresh limes. Um… with cinnamon sugar. And ice made from arctic glaciers."
Draco snapped his fingers. The drink materialised on a coaster in front of Albus. The boy's face lit up like it was Christmas and Draco's chest went warm.
"That's brilliant!" Albus took a sip of the drink, then frowned.
"Not nice?"
"It's a bit sweet."
Draco snapped his fingers again and the daiquiri was replaced by a pint of lager.
Albus laughed. So easily pleased. He picked up his drink and beamed at Draco as he gulped it. So much light in his eyes.
What was that like? To see the world as fresh and full of exciting surprises? No war behind him, no cache of regrets.
"Better?" asked Draco, and took a long drink of his own wine.
"Much."
It didn't take either of them long to drain their glasses. It was the Albus' idea to move on to firewhisky. The more he drank, the more he laughed. Soon, his cheeks began to shine and his movements became loose and generous.
Draco considered his next move. How did one keep an eighteen-year-old boy entertained? "What are your plans, Albus? Now that you've left Hogwarts? Following your father and brother into Magical Law Enforcement?"
"Al. Not Albus." He took another sip of the firewhisky; Draco watched him try not to wince. "Not sure yet. Don't think I'll become an Auror. I was thinking…" He lowered his face.
"Yes?" Without considering, Draco brushed a lock of hair from Albus' eyes so he could see them again.
Albus looked up. "Well, I was thinking of becoming a Healer. Like you."
Draco laughed.
Al's mouth twisted, and for a moment Draco was transported back in time. His hand twitched toward his wand.
"Why is that funny?" asked Al.
The wine had gone to Draco's head. His face felt hot. "Healing takes patience. And int--" He snapped his mouth shut. This was the son, not the father. He decided to stop drinking. Consciously, he softened his features. "I didn't mean it in a negative way." He slid his arm across the table and grasped Albus' hand. "I just find it interesting that you Potters all seem to need to save the world, one way or another."
"Oh…" The hard lines of his mouth melted into a smile. "Well, I don't know about that. I just like the idea of helping people."
"You're sweet." Draco didn't know how he could have even momentarily confused Albus with his father. They were so very different, aside from their looks.
Albus ran his thumb along Draco's knuckles. It sent a hard shiver down Draco's spine, which curled through his stomach, then came to rest in his balls. "You're… really sexy."
"Am I?"
"I've always thought so. I couldn't believe it when you walked through the door at St Mungo's. And then you put your hands on my leg… I thought…" He broke eye-contact. "Merlin. I'm getting bladdered."
He wants me. It seemed impossible. This bright, gorgeous young creature.
There'd been a moment, several years previously, when Draco had begun to wonder if the younger men in the clubs he frequented still saw him, or if they still saw him as someone they wanted to drag into one of the dark rooms at the back. Did his age affect his desirability? He'd try to catch their eye and sometimes they'd blank him completely or smile and then move on to someone younger.
Now and then he'd find a boy in his twenties who looked at his face and recognised something he wanted: maturity and command--or perhaps just a thin streak of cruelty. But mostly he'd had to move on to older men.
It had been a long time since he'd felt this buzz of hope and excitement when faced with a potential lover. Albus gazed at him with clear eyes, bright with desire yet veiled with shyness. Draco could sense how brave the boy felt he was being as he took Draco's fingers and brushed them across his lips.
Heart pounding, Draco collected himself. He drew out his time-tested smirk and ran the pad of his thumb along Albus' smooth jaw. "Well then… Albus." He lifted his tumbler and swirled the amber liquid around the glass. "Would you like to come upstairs with me tonight?"
Albus' eyes widened. A blush crept up his neck and across his freckled cheeks. His lips parted, but he didn't respond. His complete lack of guile made Draco's chest clench. His face broadcast every thought zipping through his mind.
"Tonight?"
Draco had forgotten that the young sometimes wanted to wait, to draw things out, as if they believed that sex--so new and miraculous--would last forever as something they could just reach out and grab at any moment. "I'm moving too fast."
And yet, Albus' face settled into determination. "No. I mean yes." He laughed softly and rolled his eyes. "Yes. I'd like to come upstairs with you." He lowered his chin and gazed at Draco, and then whispered. "Please."
He knows exactly what he'd doing. "Well then." Draco slid out of the booth and extended his hand. "I suggest we go."
* * *
The club contained a handful of discreet bedrooms in the upper floors, for those who wanted somewhere to sleep, or fuck, other than their own home. Draco led Albus up the stairs to his favourite.
"Have you done this before?" Trying to keep his hands steady, Draco undid the buttons on Albus' white shirt, one by one.
"I've done… things. But not…"
Merlin, Draco was going to take Potter's son's virginity. Once the shirt was open, he moved forward, pushing the boy back toward the wall. He pressed him hard against it and kissed him. Albus responded eagerly, twining his fingers in Draco's hair.
Draco's ears rang with excitement in a way that made what he was doing seem slightly unreal. "You're lovely," he murmured against Albus' neck as he slipped his shirt off his shoulders.
Albus braced his arms against the wall. The shirt clung to his elbows and hung in folds at the small of his back. "I'm not lovely. I'm handsome." He grinned into Draco's kiss. "No-- Rugged. I'm rugged and dashing."
"You're delicious." Draco kissed his neck, below the jaw, at the side, just above his shoulders. Albus shivered against his lips and Draco held him firmly by the waist.
"Lovely is for girls." Albus gasped, then whined softly as Draco pressed against him.
"All right." Draco slid his hand down Al's hip and then forward, between his legs. "You're dashing." He closed his fingers around Albus' cock.
Albus shuddered against him. "Oh god." He smelled of boy, fresh and earthy beneath the cheap cologne. It took Draco back to ancient school nights when he'd twisted in his bed behind the curtains, driven mad with lust and confusion by the sounds and smells of his roommates. He'd had no idea what to do, how to channel those feelings. But now… Now he did.
He bit Albus gently on his neck and pressed their groins harder together. Albus' breath caught. He scratched his fingernails against the wall. Draco tightened his palm against his cock; its heat and firmness made him desperate to get the boy completely undressed. Albus was like a musical instrument--anywhere Draco touched him caused a gasp, a shiver, a twist, or all at once. He ground himself against him. He could barely remember the last time he'd been so turned on.
"You know what I want to do to you, Albus?"
"What?" The boy was so breathless he could barely speak.
"I want to spread you out on the bed and shove my cock deep inside that sweet, virgin arse of yours."
Albus' body went rigid against his own. He made a gorgeous sound--a moan twisted with a squeak.
Draco bit his ear and held him fast. "Would you like that, Albus?"
There was a pause, then he nodded, tickling Draco's face with his hair.
"You want me to fuck you?"
"I…" Albus grabbed Draco's wrist and pulled his hand closer to his cock. "I think so." Draco lifted him up by his arse. Albus tightened his legs around his hips.
Draco's back immediately threatened to give out. He turned toward the bed and half laid, half dropped Albus down on it. The boy bounced against the mattress. Draco loomed over him and braced himself, arms on either side of his shoulders. The half-off shirt effectively tied Albus down. He grinned helplessly, his face flushed and radiant. Draco's head spun as he bent and licked his neck, and then trailed down his chest with small bites.
Albus arched and moaned, trying to pull his arms free. "You take off your shirt. It's unfair."
"Life is unfair." But Draco obeyed; he unbuttoned the black shirt he was wearing and let it slip to the floor behind him. It took him a second, then, to realise why Albus' expression had changed. "They're old."
"How did you get them?" He tried to lift his arm.
Draco kept his knee on the hem of his shirt and didn't let him. "It doesn't matter." His chest fizzed with unpleasant heat.
"Why couldn't you heal them?"
"Dark magic. They were worse before. Now shut up." He bent to kiss Albus and undid the boy's fly at the same time, trying to wipe all thought of his scars and how he'd received them from his mind. He slipped his hand down the front of Albus' pants and that did the trick nicely. His body radiated heat; Draco curled his fingers around Albus' balls and the boy cried out.
"God! Fuck! Careful, you'll… Oh hell, that feels good."
Grinning, Draco rubbed his thumb up the base of Albus' cock.
"Mmm!" The boy started to pant.
Draco realised that he should slow down. He let go and took hold of Albus' trousers. Albus lifted his hips to let Draco pull them down and off. Then the boy lay completely naked on the bed. "Look at you." Long and lean muscles, light body hair, pale skin… So young.
"God." Albus squeezed his eyes shut.
"Don't be embarrassed. You're… dashing."
Albus laughed.
Draco desperately wanted to have him. He was harder then he'd been in years. All that bright, beautiful youth and energy; he wanted it pinned down beneath his own body and he wanted to suck it up like a vampire.
Methodically, he undid his belt buckle and then his fly, letting Albus watch with his lips parted. He stepped out of his trousers, and then they were both naked.
Albus gaped at Draco's cock. He swallowed and his fingers went to his own and began to lightly stroke. "All of that," he whispered.
The boy had a way of making Draco feel good about himself. He grinned and said, "Lube." A pot appeared on the edge of the bed with a small pop.
Albus looked at it. "Even in here? I love this place." He took on a mischievous expression. "Firebolt 350!"
"You aren't a member, my dear. And I'd end up having to pay for it."
"Worth a try." He watched as Draco unscrewed the lid of the pot, and then he went quiet.
Draco had him scoot back on the bed so he could kneel between his knees. Albus' cock jutted upward from its nest of dark curls, plump and red. Draco rubbed the lube between his fingers, just as he had at the hospital. Then, with one hand, he began to stroke Albus; he slipped the index finger of the other between Albus' arse cheeks, found his entrance, and then pushed the tip of his finger inside him.
Albus' chest rose and fell. "Oh."
Draco pushed in further, continuing to gently fist Albus' cock.
"Oh my god," said Albus.
"Move your legs a bit further apart."
"I don't think I can move at all." He swallowed. "It feels really weird."
The flickering, now ancient seeming memory of the first time he'd let someone fuck him whispered though Draco's mind. He'd been terrified, but completely unwilling to show it. His lover--a friend's older brother--hadn't been gentle or particularly concerned with Draco's pleasure. It hadn't been a nice experience. Afterward, however, Draco felt immeasurably relieved to have finally done it.
"Draco." Albus' voice had faded to a whisper.
"Hmm?" Draco drove his finger in deeper and twisted it, making the boy gasp and arch his back.
Albus suddenly looked worried. "I'm not sure…"
"It will be fine. Just relax."
"It feels strange. I didn't think it would… I… I'm really drunk."
"Do you want me to stop?" Draco hadn't intended for his voice to have that edge. He was just so extremely aroused and the thought of having to give up now sent ice through his limbs.
Albus opened his mouth then closed it again. He shook his head.
To keep him sweet and eager, Draco took Albus' cock in his mouth before adding another finger. That did the trick. There was nothing but soft cries and moaning from the boy until Draco decided he should be ready.
He withdrew his hand and leant forward, supporting himself above the boy on his arms. "Here. Lift your legs over my shoulders."
"Okay." Albus kept blinking.
They fit together nicely. The boy was very limber. He stared up at Draco and looked as if he were about to say something. Then he closed his mouth and set his jaw.
"You're ready?" asked Draco. His balls had tightened like a teenager's and his cock was wet at the tip. He swirled the moisture around the head, mixing it with lube. He felt faint--dizzy with desire.
Albus continued to gaze up at him with anxious, green eyes. "Yeah."
Draco positioned himself, adjusting his hips to get the angle right. He'd prepared the boy well and the head of his cock pressed easily into his body.
Albus went rigid and started panting.
"It's okay," said Draco. "Just relax." His voice sounded distant, as if it weren't his own. He slid in deeper and moaned through his teeth as the boy's body enveloped him.
"Ahh!" Albus' legs shook, knobbly knees knocking against Draco's neck. "Merlin. It really hurts."
"No. It won't. Give it a second."
Draco pushed in further and Albus made a choking sound. His eyes had clouded over. "I can't… I can't do this."
"You're doing fine. You're perfect." Draco pressed his hips against Albus' arse. That was it. He was all the way inside him and Draco's body sung with pleasure. He hummed, then kissed Albus, thrusting slow and shallow as their lips met. Albus clutched at the back of Draco's neck and made soft sounds into his mouth.
"Oh god. Oh god."
It felt too good. Albus gripped him tight, hot and slippery and his body felt lithe and pliant beneath him. He wanted to pound, to take him hard. "You're perfect," Draco repeated, barely knowing what he was saying. Curls of heat swept over his skin. He started fucking Albus faster. The soft sounds the boy was making grew louder. He took his hands off Draco's neck and dug them into a pillow.
Draco felt granite hard as he fucked the boy, his face creased with exertion. His shoulders ached, but he was getting close. Need tightened in his cock and thighs like hot wires.
Albus strained beneath him, taught and trembling. "Please."
Draco barely heard him. He rode on a crest of vicious yearning, his thoughts splintering to pieces. Fuck you, Potter. You and your charmed life. You see what it's like to have what's precious taken from you. You suck up some of the pain for once.
Albus' had squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. He didn't make another sound until Draco finally thrust deep and hard one final time. Then Albus cried out and twisted the pillowcase in his hands.
Draco groaned deep in his throat as his orgasm tore through him; he shook, unable to stop. Then his elbows gave out. He collapsed on top of Albus.
"Salazar." His chest heaved and his breath escaped in loud, hoarse bursts.
"Okay," said Albus beneath him in a small, breathless voice. "Okay?" He started to squirm.
Draco rolled onto his back, still shaking and covered in sweat. Albus immediately scooted off the bed and fled into the bathroom. There was a loud click as the door locked behind him.
Draco wiped the sweat off his face. That had been rather intense. He felt oddly cold and shaky.
It occurred to him that he had no idea whether or not Albus had come as well.
Several minutes passed, and then the door opened a few inches. There was a pause; then it opened fully, and Albus emerged, looking shiny-eyed and parchment pale. He grinned, his focus of vision slightly to the left of Draco's eyes, and said, "Well. That was… I didn't expect, Mr Malfoy, that…"
The grin slid away. He swayed on his feet.
Draco leapt from the bed and grabbed him by the wrist before he fell. The boy's pulse throbbed spasmodically beneath his fingers.
Shock, Draco realised. He's in shock.
He helped him to the bed. Albus sat heavily and hugged himself. He lowered his head; his hair hung down, obscuring his face.
Draco's vision cleared. Albus was thin, as his father had been at the same age, but with an extra delicacy about his limbs and posture. The knobs of his spine, visible above his collar… Scorpius had the same look--the birdish awkwardness of the later teens.
Draco's shoulders curved forward.
Albus swallowed and inhaled. "I'm sorry if I wasn't very good. It took me a bit by surprise, is all." He peered up at Draco through his fringe with red-rimmed eyes. "I'll do better next time." He pressed his lips together--determined.
"I didn't mean for it to hurt so much," said Draco. Pressure rose in his stomach. His scar prickled and he pressed on it to make it stop.
Albus shook his head and opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything.
"I'll heal you," said Draco. "I shouldn't have been rough." He'd smooth this out. It would be okay. "You just drove me a bit mad with lust." He wondered if his smile looked as cracked as he thought it might.
Albus gave a thin, false laugh.
Draco gathered his clothes from the floor and began dressing. He pulled his wand from his pocket. "Here, Albus. I'll h--"
Albus shrunk away. "I just want to go home."
Irritated, Draco took his shoulder to hold him still and then cast a quick healing charm. "Better?"
Albus nodded. Draco cupped his cheek. Albus flinched and looked to the side, but he didn't pull away. "It's okay," Draco whispered. "It's going to be okay."
"I want to go home."
"Yes."
"I drank too much."
"You should get dressed."
Albus started, as if he hadn't realised he was still naked, and then quickly began pulling on his clothes. The white shirt was creased and missing a button on one cuff. Once he was dressed, Draco stepped close to him. Albus' entire body stiffened. Draco slid his fingers around the back of his neck. Albus looked down, his hands in fists.
"Shh," said Draco. Then, "Imperio."
Albus inhaled sharply. He struggled against the Curse, his eyes flashing, wet and furious.
"Shhh. Shh, Albus." Draco pressed their foreheads together and stroked the back of Albus' head until he felt him relax. "Go home. Go to sleep. When you wake up, I want you to believe you spent this evening in bed with a headache. You won't remember anything that happened."
The boy stared forward with dull, glassy eyes. Draco felt sick to look at him. He opened the door and Albus Potter walked out, just as he'd been instructed.
Draco showered. He gagged but wasn't quite able to be sick. He ordered pyjamas, a soft dressing gown and a snifter of strong brandy, but the smell of the alcohol made his stomach turn over. He settled on the bed and fiddled with his glass without drinking. The room felt cold and empty, so he lit a fire in the Floo.
He'd go to work tomorrow, like always. Things would continue as they always had.
A man could change. He could make up for his past mistakes. And Draco had. He'd worked hard to become a different person, a better person--mostly a better person.
No one knew and sometimes he could fool himself into ignoring the truth: deep down he was still that frightened, angry, vicious child who'd taken the Dark Mark. No one.
Aside from himself.
Self-Obliviation was prohibitively risky, and he'd never tell anyone, not even Astoria, how he'd lost control with the Potter boy. So he was stuck with the memory and with the knowledge of what lurked in the darker corners of his mind. Stuck with it for good.
He tipped the glass, until the brandy burned at his lips, and decided to persevere with the drink. Magic wasn't the only way of dealing with unpleasant memories.
-- The End
