Drowning
by Rachel

Note:  This story is an alternate ending to shalott's Deep As You Go. She very kindly
gave me permission to play in her beautiful world for a little while.

*****

Promise to take me with you
Promise to let me go
All the world is waiting to see
As you and I go down
--"Deep As You Go," October Project

"Go."

Such a tiny, simple word. So many meanings. Harry looked at Malfoy in confusion.

"Get out of here, Potter. We're done."

He shook his head, his mind blank. Unbelieving. "You... you wanted... I thought..." He'd known, he'd known, this was coming, but not so soon, surely not so soon...

Malfoy shrugged, smirked. "I'm tired of you."

"Malfoy... Draco..."

"You're a one-trick pony, Potter, and your trick has ceased to be amusing. Go home."

He couldn't quite hold back the bitter laughter at that, because he didn't know where home was, not anymore. Not the Dursley's, certainly, but where else? He'd gone from Hogwarts straight to Malfoy Hall, and had not thought of life outside its walls in months. Had not thought of anything, save this hellish and unbearably sweet addiction. "I don't... I don't know where to go." Stupid, stupid to show that much to Malfoy, to let him know how much leaving terrified him.

And he could see the knowledge in the cruel upturn of Malfoy's thin lips. "You'll think of something. I want you want off the property in an hour." Malfoy stepped closer, closed his hand around Harry's wrist, and Harry felt a thrill of hope. Maybe... maybe Draco would take him one more time. But Draco only unclasped the wristband and pulled it away. Harry trembled, and Draco started laughing. He was still laughing as he walked from the room, leaving Harry alone.

*****

The next few hours, the next few days, were like a dream. Everything moved in slow motion and yet chunks of time kept disappearing. Gathering his belongings from 'his' room, a place he'd never slept. Nearly everything was still in his trunk -- he'd worn the clothes Malfoy gave him, not his own. Putting Hedwig into her cage. Turning, as he reached the gates, struggling under the weight of his possessions, all that was left of his life, to look at the house one last time. He thought he saw Draco at the window, watching him. But it was probably an illusion.

The Knight Bus. A room at the Leaky Cauldron. Hearing and yet not hearing the muffled whispers and snickers wherever he went. Draco Malfoy's trained monkey. It would almost be funny, if his entire body didn't ache with longing. He thought, bitterly amused, that he should brew an eternal sleeping potion and never wake up again. He could almost hear Malfoy's mocking laughter.

A trip to Gringott's -- thank god he wouldn't have to worry about money for awhile. New clothes, new robes. Still moving in a haze.

The second night he woke up crying Draco's name, and then he put his head in the pillow and sobbed until no more tears came. He wondered dully if it would get better, the longer he was away. He wondered if he could find a place in the world again.

*****

He wrote to Ron and Hermione. Short notes -- just the facts, bald and inescapable. Malfoy had released him. He was staying at the Leaky Cauldron while he decided what he was going to do now. He sent Hedwig with both letters, grateful that she wasn't holding her long period of inactivity against him.

He did not say, "I want to see you," but they both came. Hermione cried when she saw him, hugged him and wouldn't let him go for long minutes. Ron shuffled in, looking uncomfortable and angry, and muttered, "That bastard," when he got his first good look at Harry's face. Hermione echoed the anger, when she had control of herself again. He was so thin, he looked so worn down, what the hell had Malfoy done to him? He should be brought up on charges, the snake.

Harry just shook his head. He couldn't explain, knew he couldn't make them understand that leaving had been far worse than anything else. Their rage melted into worry when he tried to brush aside their concerns, to insist Malfoy had not mistreated him, that he'd been a well-kept pet.

After an hour of it he stood up abruptly, moved into the bathroom and splashed water on his face, and as he walked back he could hear them whispering to each other, hear Hermione mutter "Stockholm Syndrome" and Ron's puzzled "Huh?"

He wanted to laugh at that, but he didn't think he remembered how.

They left not long after that, promising to write, to come back, to help him re-establish himself in the wizarding world. He shut the door behind them and lay down on the bed, and thought of Draco's face at the moment of orgasm.

*****

He wrote to Sirius next, asked him to come. No more than that. He knew he would, even though he'd cut off all communication with Sirius after he moved in to Malfoy Hall.

Sirius was there the next evening; he sat beside Harry and asked in a calm, measured voice for the story. Harry told him, his voice dull and flat in his own ears. The Psychoreveria spell. The rape. Malfoy's revenge. Sirius looked horrified, ill, but when he began to protest Harry's innocence Harry cut him short.

"I wanted him. All those years I wanted him. I still do."

"Maybe. But did you ever want to rape him?"

"No! I wanted..." He bit his lip to stop the words. There were some things he couldn't say aloud.

"Harry, it was the spell. Not you."

"It was supposed to most make me violent! Make me crazy. Not make me rape him!"

"Just because he didn't intend those exact consequences doesn't mean he isn't responsible for them. You'd never have touched Malfoy if he hadn't cursed you."

Harry just shrugged.

"You still want him," Sirius said, quietly.

A whisper was all he could manage. "Yes."

Sirius nodded. He looked so sad, and Harry wanted to comfort him, tell him he'd be all right, but the words wouldn't come.

"It's late," Sirius said finally, briskly. "I'm going to get a room on this floor. I'll be here at eight to pick you up for breakfast, and then we're going to see about finding you a flat. And a job." He squeezed Harry's shoulder gently, and left the room.

*****

Sirius was as good as his word -- by the end of the week Harry had a small but comfortable flat in Crouch End, a low-level but respectable job at Gringott's. Harry found it rather ironic how their situations had reversed; the war with Voldemort had made Sirius a hero, the stuff of legends, while Harry could barely show his face in public.

But people soon forget, as Sirius assured him, and as time went by the whispers and laughter that followed him died away.

He did his job, and did it well. Minor protection spells. The easiest forms of curse breaking. Nothing too difficult, nothing he hadn't learned by the end of his fourth year at Hogwarts.

Ron and Hermione came often to visit him, as did Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Sirius dropped by every day or two, though as time went on his visits became more sparse. Fred and George came a few times, overflowing with stories of their newest inventions. The joke shop was doing well, Harry knew, and he was glad about that, in a distant sort of way. It was from them he learned that Ron and Hermione were engaged, and he found he was glad about that too, though he wondered why they hadn't told him themselves. But he couldn't make himself care enough to ask them, and when they finally mentioned it he only smiled and congratulated them.

Other of his Hogwarts friends came. Neville. Lee Jordan. Seamus. Dean. Colin and Dennis Creevy, who bounced about the flat with even more energy than he'd remembered them having. Percy came once, sat stiffly and pompously and with liberal use of innuendo assured Harry that no one blamed him for his time with Malfoy until Harry thought he would beat his head against the wall. Instead he gritted his teeth and smiled politely until Percy went away.

*****

Life went on. After a few months Harry was promoted, given more money, more interesting work to do. He bought things for the flat, more comfortable furniture, pictures for the wall, and gradually it began to feel like home, and not just another place.

But he couldn't stop seeing Draco's face.

*****

Six months had gone by when he heard the heavy rapping at the door. He could not have known it would be Draco, there had been no clue, but he felt no surprise when he saw him standing on the stairs.

He looked... wrong. His eyes were dull, the circles beneath them so dark they looked like bruises. His skin was pale, almost waxy; the silver blond hair hung limply in his face. But beautiful, still so beautiful, and Harry felt the sudden rush of longing like a punch to the gut. He clenched his fists, dug his fingernails into his palms to keep from reaching out for him.

They locked eyes, and Harry felt himself shiver. Draco said nothing, just looked at him, and Harry was afraid to open his mouth. Afraid he would babble. Beg. He opened the door wider, stepped back, and Draco moved inside, sat down without a word.

Harry thought of things he could say, but each seemed more ridiculously inept then the last. He finally dropped into a chair facing him. "Why are you here, Draco?"

A raised eyebrow. "Draco?"

Harry shrugged. "Malfoy, then."

Draco smirked. "I can't pay a visit to an old friend?"

Harry thought, suddenly and inappropriately, of the sounds Draco made as he neared climax, the soft panting moans and sharp cries, and he shivered again. Then he took a deep breath and shook his head. "We weren't ever that."

"No." The smirk was gone, and Draco's voice was oddly soft. He locked his eyes with Harry's again.

"What do you want from me?" He'd thought he was angry, but his tone held only defeat. "I -- I hurt you. I can't change that. I'd have pled guilty if you turned me in. I'd have gone to Azkaban and not complained at all. You wanted me to be a slave, so I was one. I lived on your terms until you ordered me out. I don't have anything left to give you."

Draco said nothing, just looked at him steadily, until Harry put his head in his hands.

"Do you want me to come back? I'll come back. You can keep ordering me back, ordering me out, I'll do it. I owe you that."

"I don't want you to come back." Flatly.

A bit of Harry died at the words, and he hated himself for it. Hated the obsession, hated his own need, no less overwhelming for the time that had passed. He tried to steel his voice, but could not quite keep the bitterness out of it. "I'd forgotten. One-trick pony, right?" And he thought he saw Draco flinch at the words, but decided it was only his imagination. "Tell me what you do want, then. I'll do it, and we can both get back to our lives."

"Why aren't you happy?"

"What?"

Draco shook his head, slowly. "I didn't want it to be that way," he said, tiredly.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Draco... Malfoy, would you just--"

"I didn't want a slave!"

Harry looked at him disbelievingly. "You wanted someone who did nothing but serve your every sexual whim. But not a slave."

"I wanted..."

"You humiliated me. It wasn't enough that you had me on my back or on my knees whenever you wanted me. You had to have everyone know about it..."

"You raped me! I hated you for that. Even if I was the one who cast the spell... you held me down. You hurt me and you didn't stop even when I screamed..."

Harry flinched as though he'd been struck, and a heavy silence filled the room as Draco's voice faded away. Finally Harry forced himself to speak again. "But you didn't want a slave."

"I wanted you to suffer. I wanted to you wake up at night and curse my name, just like I did to you. But then..."

"But then what?"

"Goddamn you, Harry!"

"I'm Harry now?"

Draco lunged at him. He tried to put his arms up, found himself yanked from his chair, and then Draco's lips were on his, hard and demanding and so hungry. He gasped as Draco pushed his tongue in. He could feel Draco's erection hot against his hip, and he pushed into it, drinking in Draco's moan.

But then Draco pulled back, shook his head when Harry tried to hold on to him. "I don't want to do this again."

"Then why are you here?" The pleading in his voice was far too naked.

"You have the brains of a flobberworm, Potter."

"Why don't you spell it out so even a flobberworm could understand?"

"Damn you," Draco said again. His voice was hard, angry. "You want me to say it, I'll bloody well say it. I want you. Are you satisfied now? I want you. Not a slave, not an empty fuck. You. Is that what you want to hear?"

Harry stared at him. He had the idea that he should sit down before his legs gave out, but he didn't seem capable of motion. The room was spinning, his head was spinning, and the world was suddenly alive with possibility. Draco... his. The two of them, together, stripped of pretense, sharing pleasure without anger, without hate. Something... real.

He hadn't thought it possible. Had not imagined there could ever be anything more than what there had been already, violence and bitterness masquerading as sex. But god, the way Draco was looking at him... so much raw, desperate need. That oh-so-hungry look in his eyes. Harry wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. And most of all, he wanted to grab Draco, rip the clothes from his body and not let him up for air for a solid week. If then.

But there was something he needed to know first. "Why... why did you make me leave?"

"Because you were bloody well miserable! You drifted around the house like a half-dead... thing... you cried when I was in you. I couldn't stand it anymore--"

"Draco."

"So I let you go and you're still bloody miserable. People barely recognize you, Potter. You shuffle. You don't ever laugh. You go to work and you go home and you're not ever really... there--"

"Draco."

"Was I so unbearable? Did I--"

"Draco."

"What?"

"I swear to god if you don't shut up and kiss me right now, I'm going to break your neck."

Draco looked at him disbelievingly, for the space of a single breath, and then sprung at him, knocking them both to the floor. He captured Harry's mouth again, and Harry surrendered joyfully, moaning against his lips. "Harry," Draco said into his mouth. "Harry," and Harry shuddered and wrapped his arms tightly around him, thrust up, pressing his hardness against its twin. "Oh, Jesus. You don't have to... I'm not making you..."

"Shut up, Draco, you're not getting out of this."

"I... I want..."

Harry rolled them over, worked his way on top of Draco. Kissed his cheeks, his chin, his eyelids. "Tell me."

"Please," Draco whispered, and he shifted his legs apart, brought his thighs up to wrap around Harry's waist. "Please."

Time was playing games again, slowing down and speeding up both at once. Harry watched from outside himself as their clothes disappeared, as Draco's beautiful body revealed itself bit by bit. Watched himself move back between Draco's legs, slip lubed fingers inside Draco's body, and only barely heard his groan.

And then he was slipping inside, and time stopped altogether. So... different... from the last time. No anger, no brutality, no fear on Draco's face. Nothing but desire, honest and pure. And Draco was so tight, god, so incredibly hot, and his legs were around Harry's waist again as he whispered, "Yes... Harry..." Amazing, amazing, and he could feel the memories of everything that had come before burning slowly away, if only for the moment.

It was over far too quickly. They couldn't pace themselves -- they moved desperately, hungrily, kissing the whole time. Draco cried out as he began to come, and the feel of him spasming beneath him triggered Harry's own orgasm.

For awhile they just lay still, wrapped in each other's arms. Harry could feel Draco's heart beating against his own, and he felt as if he would never want to move again.

Draco's hands moved slowly up and down Harry's back, and Harry pressed a kiss into his neck. "I missed you," he said, softly.

"Yeah, well, what's not to miss?"

Harry laughed and kissed him again, overcome with a tenderness he hadn't known he possessed. "Draco...?"

"Hmmmm?"

"I want to go back with you."

"No."

It was like a slap in the face. He yanked his head back until he could see Draco's eyes. "Why the hell not? You said..."

Draco hooked his hand around the back of Harry's head, pulled him down for another long, deep kiss. "Not back there," he said, when he finally broke his mouth away. "Somewhere else."

"Where?" Harry whispered.

Draco grinned. "Anywhere. Does it matter?"

And as Draco kissed him, wrapped himself more tightly around his body, Harry reflected that it didn't matter at all.

End