Chapter 1 : I Will Not Bow
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His tears burnt in the cold rain that splattered onto the naked expanse of his pale, pale back, running off it in slender rivers that hit the concrete beneath his crouching body. The rough ground grated against the skin of his hands, rubbing the tender flesh raw and grazing his bony knees as he struggled to remain upright in this demeaning position. His breath was ripped from his body in agonizing gasps as his lungs inflated against his broken ribs. His certainty and expectation that death would arrive after ever inhalation was slaughtered as yet another inhalation came, each more terrible and excruciating than the last.
“You’re a weak man, Potter.”
Even though the dank cloud of pain and misery that churned inside his brain, Harry still felt a poisonous streak of anger scald his blood vessels as his heart gave an overactive thump.
“If I was weak I would’ve cracked by now…” he gasped, trying to secrete malice into the pitiful breathiness that his voice had become, “I would’ve cracked against this hopeless display.”
“My hopeless display isn’t over yet, Potter,” said the second steely voice, “We have hours… blissful hours alone together in which I can torture and torture you, until you long for the cold vice of death to caress your chest and clamp you in his arms, dragging you down into your watery grave.”
“You don’t know anything about death… that’s not how it works,” Harry laughed bitterly, still forcing the majority of his strained willpower into remaining upright on all fours, “Maybe one day you’ll have the privilege of finding out.”
Draco Malfoy moved away from the side of his imposing black Rolls Royce, and walked around to Harry, his booted footsteps slapping on the wet concrete with the rain having no effect on the expensive leather, the orange glare of streetlamps reflecting off the gloomy puddles that shone dismally on the car park ground. A nighttime policeman had already approached them, holding a gun aloft and telling Draco to back away, but Draco had struck him dead with a careless wave of his wand. His corpse lay some metres away, slowly bloating in the rain.
Draco now crouched in front of Harry’s face, stroking his finger down a deep cut that he had gently engraved with a knife. Rain had hammered into the cut, cleaning away excess blood and showing it in stark relief, a harsh red mark in a white and unshaven cheek. Harry tried not to wince, but instead squeezed his eyes closed as Draco ran a slim finger up and down it, none too gently, until it was covered in a sufficient coating of blood. Before the rain could wash it away, Draco sucked the blood off, still looking into Harry’s face, almost pensively.
“You don’t want me dead, Potter,” he smiled, putting a firm hand underneath Harry’s chin, for Harry had purposefully dropped his head before Draco was about to speak so he wouldn’t have to look at his expression, but instead had a view of the black ground, “Because I fucking know that you love me.”
Harry defiantly glared into the glassy pupils of Draco’s face, ignoring his swagger of a smile, feeling his blackened heart twist and shrivel in revulsion as Draco placed a gentle kiss onto his lightning bolt scar, the tip of his tongue gently touching it. Despite everything, Harry felt a macabre yearning inside of him: to kill and destroy Malfoy, by pressing him against his shiny black car and fucking him very, very hard.
Before Harry could even begin to attempt to act on this obscene impulse, Draco then stood up and pointed his wand at Harry, who barely had time to let out his breath in order to inhale once again because he knew he was about to scream.
“CRUCIO! CRUCIO! CRUCIO!” yelled Draco madly, doing strange side skips around Harry’s screaming and writhing white body, being constantly splattered with rain, every inch of his skin grinding and writhing against the rough ground, blossoming red grazes all over his body. He didn’t know whether the surface was above or below him, but in the most desperate part of his heart he yearned for the ground to crush him, to put a quick but bloody end to this tortuous agony. But as soon as he was about to bellow that he just wanted to die, Draco lifted the curse and gave a soft laugh.
Harry was flat on his back, gazing unseeingly at the sky, ignoring the raindrops falling from fathoms above him like tiny needles peppering his eyes.
“God, you’re almost dead, Harry,” Draco said softly with tender undertones, kneeling down beside him, “Shall I fuck you before you die, and then drive over your head? Shall I end your life with a painless curse, or should I let you lie here some more, until God finally does the decent thing and kills you himself?”
Draco stroked the sopping wet fringe from Harry’s forehead, ignoring the new wetness that was coating Harry’s face; he had succumbed to tears once more. Draco let his finger run down the black arc of Harry’s eyebrow, slipping down the subtle angles of his cheekbone, dragging on the unshaven surface, underneath the hollow of his jaw, gazing down solemnly at the man he had once hated with a burning, sickening passion that had somehow mutated into a love that had destroyed them both.
“It was so much easier hating you,” Draco sighed sadly, tracing Harry’s immobile mouth with his fingers, pulling at his bottom lip that he had kissed, bitten and caused to bleed infinite times in a previous life, “Why did you have to go and fall in love with me? You bowed down and made it so easy, and now you’ve utterly sent me mad.”
Harry’s irises shook with the immense effort of the not-yet-dying, and eventually found their way to Draco’s troubled face. It was now that Harry managed to speak, a guttural sound that was at odds with his wasted and exhausted frame, pressed flat against the nondescript ground.
“I will not bow… I will not break. I will not die at your hand – ”
Harry pulled the wand from Draco’s hand and pointed it at his white throat. Something in Draco prevented him from moving… perhaps because this was what he desired. What he had desired all along… for this to end. It was now bigger than them both, and there was only one solution left.
Draco’s throat fell out with a sickening splat onto Harry’s chest, just before Draco slumped forward onto his body. With a smile, Harry pointed the wand at his own throat and whispered the same words.
The rain hammered on the corpse of the police officer, and on the conjoined bodies of Harry and Draco, both oozing and spurting copious amounts of blood that mingled with the rain in a sick melodramatic cocktail, the patterns of red swirling around them both in a macabre pattern akin to a rose, as morning found them, and death did them part.
“I will not bow, I will not break,
I will shut the world away,
I will not fall, I will not fade,
I will take your breath away.”
Italics at bottom credited to Breaking Benjamin. :) The song was a loose inspiration for this story.