Harry hisses against his neck and Draco shivers, head thrown back against the wall and throat bared.

"Bastard," Draco gasps. His fingers clenching into fists, gathering the fabric of Potter's robes and then releasing again. He closes his eyes and pretends (Harry's on his knees already; mouth fucking wrapping around already; whispering, demanding things with his fingers against Draco's hip because his serpent tongue is too busy for words or hissing) it isn't Potter standing before him.

Potter laughs, sharp and bitter and his nose bumps the sharp line of Draco's cheek. He fits his thumbnail into the curve of scar on Draco's arm left by a mark he never should've worn.

(The snake is scared over black, it coils under Potter's fingers and it strikes against Potter's tongue. Potter fits his thumbnail there and it writhes and so does Draco.)

"You think?" he asks, too cocky like he's always been. Like I've defeated my demons, you ponce, and I've defeated yours. His words burn against Draco's skin.

"Yes," Draco answers, eyes still shut tight. He doesn't have to see to know his fingertips are white where they dig into the black that covers Harry's shoulders.

Harry hisses again, his tongue darting out between against Draco's collarbone, and Draco is (tormented defeated won owned his) undone.




::runs away and hides::