hackthis_archive | HP – A Self-Perpetuating Cycle

Wherein I tackle my first post-HBP fic. Obviously there are spoilers. Duh.

Harry Potter
Harry/Draco/Tom
Rated P for porn. And WTF for 'what the frack?'

A Self-Perpetuating Cycle

Harry Potter has a knot on the back of his head. It's not a very big knot; it used it be much larger than it is now, but the swelling has gone down. Since his hair hides the knot, the only person who knows it's there is Harry.

When Harry rubs the nape of his neck during conversations with Ron and Hermione, no one can tell that his fingers are brushing against this bruise. The tips of his fingers seek out this anomaly though, stroking and caressing, acknowledging that everything isn't quite as it seems. Harry knows, and his body knows, but Harry has learned how to keep a secret very well. This goose egg is Harry's secret, and his robes hide his response. When Harry catches Draco Malfoy's eye, Harry glowers, but doesn't turn away. If anything he rubs his bruise harder, eventually he has to excuse himself and go to the toilet.

*

Harry braces himself against the bathroom wall, trousers and pants around his thighs, eyes myopically unfocussed even though he hasn't taken his glasses off yet. The stall is cold against his backside, and his damp skin sticks to the surface. He jerks himself off in silence, one hand over his mouth and the other wrapped around his cock. He uses his left hand instead of his right, just this one little change to make him feel like someone else is touching him.

His thumb presses and strokes, dragging over his foreskin, and he bites down hard on three of his fingers, trying to muffle the noises, hoping the pain will drive away the images in his mind.

It never works.

He can see the pale hollows of Malfoy's face when he closes his eyes. He can feel the fine strands between his fingers and can see the way it fans out against his skin. His imagination won't let the image go even though it has no reality to base this idea on, and when Harry comes, his mind clouds over. For a brief moment he thinks that this is really what he's after Malfoy for.

And then Harry slams his head against the wall and remembers that this isn't on at all.

*

Harry stares at Malfoy across the Great Hall, because he's cataloguing things that he thinks might be useful later: the way Malfoy moves his arms, the sneer of his pink mouth, the way Malfoy smirks at Zabini when Zabini whispers in his right ear. If Harry were to "borrow" some of Slughorn's Polyjuice Potion, he thinks he would become Blaise Zabini so he could see what Malfoy's like when everyone else isn't around. It's not because Harry is jealous of the way that Malfoy watches Zabini -- the same way Harry watches Malfoy.

Malfoy used to look at Harry with that same sort of -– of -– Harry doesn't know what to call it. It's amusement and disdain and tolerance and something else that almost smacks of hope.

Malfoy shouldn't hope for anything except for not being caught by Harry.

Malfoy shouldn't hope for anything but Harry.

*

Harry dreams of Malfoy crawling over him, licking the hollows his hips and nipping at the thin skin along the side of his ribs. Harry's fingers tangle in Malfoy's hair, directing and dragging, and Harry can feel the wetness of Malfoy's prick leaving trails along his fevered skin.

Malfoy kneels on either side of Harry's hips and lowers himself onto Harry's prick, because Harry dreams about shagging Malfoy all the time. He could pretend this isn't true, but Harry does so much pretending that on occasion there are things that slip through the grating. When Harry tries to push Malfoy away, he ends up falling out the bed. He hits his head on the floor, and when the lights go on, Harry can feel the knot on the back of head forming all over again.

*

Harry is distracted from Malfoy by his introduction to a teenage Tom Riddle inside Dumbledore's Pensieve. Harry's mind says Voldemort, but the knot that used to be on the back of his head doesn't really care. Harry doesn't remember Riddle looking like this in the Chamber of Secrets -- all dark hair and dark eyes and the promise of something knowingly sexual -- but a small part of Harry thinks that, maybe, he just wasn't paying attention at the time. It's the same part of Harry's mind that doesn't see anything wrong with having a wank in the nearest bathroom between the end of his lesson and running back to the dormitory to see Ron and Hermione.

This time Malfoy's slick blonde hair is replaced with black curls and thin red lips, but Voldemort -– no, it's Tom, just Tom this time. Harry can't do this if he's thinking of Voldemort, but he can see being sucked off by Tom Riddle.

Harry can see Riddle's long fingers gripping his hips, and he can imagine Riddle's teeth teasing the thin skin over his collarbone. Harry can feel the heat from Riddle's lithe form shoving and pushing and trapping him against the nearest surface and taking him, because that's what Tom Riddle does. He takes. Harry can practically feel Riddle's fingers inside him, twisting and stretching. Harry knows Riddle would take Harry without asking him if he were ready or not. It's just Riddle's way and that's the difference -- Harry would take Malfoy, but Riddle would take Harry.

*

In a way, Harry thinks this is all Dumbledore's fault. To be fair, it's not Dumbledore's fault that Harry can't stop touching himself in the middle of the night when he can't sleep, or that Harry can't stop obsessing over Draco Malfoy, but it is Dumbledore's fault that Harry can't stop thinking of Tom Riddle either. Harry knows without Dumbledore's private lessons, Harry wouldn't know anything about Riddle's background or his kleptomania or how dark his eyes were once upon a very long time ago. Harry doesn't know when he started dreaming about Draco Malfoy; he doesn't know why he can't stop, but he knows that he has to be able to put some of this on someone else besides him, or he's even more fucked up than anybody's ever thought.

*

Every night he tells himself he'll stop tomorrow. It's always tomorrow.

Or the day after.

Or the day after that.

*

Malfoy has a tiny birthmark on the inside of his left thigh -– at least he does in Harry's dreams. He also has a Dark Mark on his left forearm, and sometimes the snake of Malfoy's Dark Mark slithers down Malfoy's arm and into Harry's skin. The snake burns Harry's skin, and Harry doesn't know how to make it go away. He rolls to his side and finds himself underneath Tom Riddle, he doesn't know how he got there.

Harry doesn't even know what to say, but the snake on his forearm hisses at Riddle and Riddle laughs. "I've been waiting for you, Harry," Riddle says, his long fingers stroking the insides of Harry's thighs. Over Riddle's right shoulder, Harry can see Malfoy watching avidly.

Harry's eyes water out when Riddle's index finger pushes inside him, and he watches in fascinated shock as Tom Riddle sucks him off, and Malfoy watches from underneath half-closed eyes, all the while stroking his pale cock.

Harry shouts when Riddle fucks him, and he comes with a shout.

The sweat and the stickiness are real, but the dream is not, and Harry prays to whatever gods listen to underage teenage wizards who aren't chosen for anything but being a headcase that he cast a Silencio before he went to bed.

*

There's something wrong in Harry's head, and it's not the litany of bruises on the back of his scalp or fact that he can't figure out how to get that much needed memory out of Slughorn's grasp. Harry thinks he needs to find another outlet -- something, or someone, to project all his untapped hormones onto. Someone not nearly as dangerous. Someone like Ginny Weasley, who he would never obsess over this way. Surely being with Ron's sister is better than thinking about Malfoy and Tom Riddle this way.

Surely anything is better than this.

Harry is going to have to do something soon, because he's obsessed, and it's draining him a little more every day. He's stuck in this vicious cycle and it needs to stop.

-end-

Improv: cloud, grate, form, stick

Unbeta'd cos one beta's not done with HBP and the other said she'd kill me if I made her read anything H/D related.

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