Author: Phoenix Angel Suyari
Summary: Under the imperious curse, Draco seduces Harry for the Dark Lord.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter, and all other characters from the popular series are the sole ownership of J.K. Rowling and like all other authors, I'm merely borrowing them for my own satisfaction. Enjoy.
A/N: Based off of challenge number 44 in the Bottom!Draco FQF. The challenge has been Modified.
When he'd been told he wouldn't be receiving the Dark Mark, Draco had been ecstatic. He hadn't been looking forward to having an ugly black pattern burned into his precious, flawless skin. Vanity was as a first nature to Malfoys, right up there with pride. In fact, Draco couldn't comprehend how his father had ever gotten the mark in the first place.
Still, he was something akin to a Death Eater. At seventeen he was old enough to take the mark should he choose, but he had no intention of ever doing so. Perhaps that was how he'd ended up in this mess.
He watched, horrified, as for the greater part of a week, he played puppet for the pissy Dark Lord. Literally, a puppet, incapable of making even the smallest decision on his own. Voldemort was ruining his life.
Sure, crushing Potter beneath the heel of his expensive Wyvern dragonhide boot was fun. But dammit, Potter was his to crush! Not the Dark Lord in Draco disguise. He wanted to be responsible for besting The-Boy-Who-Lived. He wanted to be the one who made his brow furrow, and his voice shout and his heart race.
Yes, it was sexual in a way. And yes, Draco did get off on it. Potter was the only thing that could possibly bring him to orgasm. Countless insignificant lovers aside, their rivalry aside, the truth was Potter, damn controversial do-gooder that he was, had somehow wormed his way into being the sole focus of Draco's entire existence.
It was Potter's eyes, he longed to stare into. It was Potter's pulse he liked to toy with. And it was Potter, all of him, that he wanted to crush under himself, until Potter screamed in unimaginable ecstasy. Then he could get over him. If he could just best him that way, he was positive he could get the annoying git out of his system.
Potter was in his blood. In his head. In everything and everyone, and Draco couldn't escape no matter how hard he tried.
Unfortunately, Draco was starting to suspect the Dark Lord got off on Potter too. Which was just disgusting.
"Harry," he heard himself purr, and he cringed within his mind. His Lord had started to occasionally prod The-Boy-Who-Lived with his name from Draco's lips. The upsetting thing was, Potter was actually starting to allow it.
"Malfoy," he greeted back cordially.
Draco's body was propelled forward, sauntering silkily. Potter had gone back to his book.
"What are you doing?" he cooed. Eww, like a love sick schoolgirl! He was even more horrified when his body trussed up against the other.
Potter shifted back, scooting to his left. "What does it look like?" he replied calmly. Which was a bad sign. Potter had stopped snapping at him privately sometime about noon Wednesday.
Draco's body tipped, brushing Potter's as his eyes searched the cover. "The Mystery of the Muggle?" he queried, voice tinged with amusement. In his mind, Draco gagged.
Potter's mouth twitch, the corner rounding upward very slightly.
"Harry, you live with Muggles, why would you need to read about them?"
"Hermione's starting to affect me, I guess." He sighed, running a hand back through his dark hair. Draco cringed at how his body flushed at the sight of his long, exposed neck. Whether it was his reaction or the puppet master's, Draco didn't care to know.
"Or maybe it's the stress..."
There was a pleasured hiss in his mind and Draco struggled forward. Don't tell him! Don't tell him anything!!
He was shoved back roughly, pinned to a corner. "Stress?"
"Mm," Harry replied, taking off his glasses to clean them.
Draco tutted and scooted around him to rub at his shoulders. Potter sighed and dropped his head forward, eyes closed. It'd be so easy to kill him now. The prat! Put up your guard, imbecile! Come on, you loathe me!!
Pressed further back. He began to ache from the force.
They were silent for a while, Draco's hands kneading out the tension's in the other boy's shoulders and neck. Potter sighed occasionally, and rolled his shoulders experimentally.
"Why don't you lay down on the desk?"
Potter's head shot up. Yes! Draco crowed in his mind. Not a complete idiot!
"So I can get your back. A lot of tension settles in the lower back, you know."
Potter looked away for a moment. Was he seriously considering it?! Hello! R-I-V-A-L!! Out for your destruction, remember?!
What?! No! NO!!
He smiled, and guided Potter down. The other settled in a chair though, and draped both arms beneath his chin. Draco sighed long sufferingly. Was his wand still in his pocket?
"You know, Harry, this won't ease it as well as lying down will."
"That's okay. I'm comfortable like this."
There was an annoyed grumble and Draco laughed at it. Couldn't get any even in a Malfoy. HA!
After what seemed like a really long time, in which Draco fought the Imperious to attempt to regain the feeling in the tips of his fingers, Potter's head drooped.
His hands reached out. Oh no you don't!
He moved forward. Draco pulled back. HARD.
Potter woke with a start at the crash of Draco's ungraceful collision with the floor.
"Malfoy?" he asked, voice husky with sleep. "Are you okay?"
"Peachy," he drawled. Twitching slightly, he stood, and brushed at himself awkwardly.
Let go brat! It's *my* body! *You* let go!!
Potter raised a slender eyebrow as Draco suddenly stood very straight, body seeming to freeze, before relaxing; under control once more.
He walked about Potter, slumping into a chair to his right.
"Are you sure?"
Was he really concerned? Bloody self righteous Gryffindor moron.
"Yes," he replied, without snapping. HEY!
Still, Potter stood. Draco's eyes followed as he walked about him, hands going to his shoulders. "What are you-Oh.."
"You're so tense...Tenser than me." He chuckled softly.
Draco moaned. The scariest part was, it seemed to be a mutual reaction.
His body seemed to melt. Quivering mass of Draco puppet. Yep, that was him.
When Potter pulled his hands away, he turned to look at him. Potter was blushing. Dear Gods, Potter was blushing!!
He stepped away, the movement fidgety.
Draco grabbed his wrist, fingers curling about the delicate feature.
Potter stopped cold, then turned to look at him.
Whether the blush was part of the act, or it was just getting hot in here, Draco wasn't sure. But the next thing he knew, he was sidling close to Potter. The slightly taller boy sidled backward, and nearly tripped over his school bag, landing hard against the table, hands sprawled out behind him.
Draco followed him, sinking into the V of his spread legs all too perfectly in the younger's opinion. He pressed against Harry's torso, head craning back, and closed his eyes. Then he just waited. Like an idiot.
This was going to do wonders for his reputation.
Potter seemed to be thinking it out, weighing pros and cons, considering the situation. That's a good Gryffindor! Think for once!!
Then his lips pressed down, tentatively at first, but growing with intensity, when Draco's mouth opened.
It felt like being electrocuted. But, in a good way.
His sensors were sending erratic signals to his brain, which was satisfying, because with all the interference, he may just regain his control. That, and Voldemort, horny old bastard that he was, wouldn't be able to feel a damn thing.
His own triumphant laughter rang through his head, poking at the dark cloud like presence that was the Dark Lord. He could feel the scowl, and it only made him giddier.
My, but Potter could kiss...In fact, he kissed about as well as he played Quidditch; determined, forceful, dominant. Oh...
Draco found himself on his back, spread across the table, and couldn't remember how. Had he blacked out? Had Voldemort gotten complete control for a moment there?
He struggled to find his way back to the surface. But, Potter seemed to be drowning him in sensation. His fingers were buried in Potter's hair, as the other boy trailed his mouth down his bared torso. And when had THAT happened?!
He gasped, arching up, when Potter suckled at one rosy nipple, hands drawing that heavenly mouth closer.
He writhed, when Potter's tongue thrust against his navel, swirling and teasing, possessing.
He cried out hoarsely, when Potter engulfed him, working slowly.
He bucked, when Potter slipped into him.
Through it all, Potter held him, cradled like a cherish lover, stroked like a beloved pet. Potter possessed him completely. Potter conquered his spirit, took ownership of his soul.
When his grey eyes finally fluttered open, they were met with green ones. Knowing eyes, with bright, bright stars veiled in secrecy. He sighed, awed and reached up to stroke his face.
It took a long moment, having been preoccupied with Potter, before Draco could realize the suffocating, forceful presence of the Dark Lord was gone, like some half lived nightmare on a summer day.
He blinked, in shock, and Potter rubbed their noses together. "Welcome back, Draco."