Death's Curse Undone

Chapter 6 - Punishment

Chapter 6 - Punishment

Draco POV

The floo wards ring. It's a special tone I set for Harry.

Moving quickly I place a bookmark in my book and exit the library to greet him in the living room.

I check my clothes as I go. Muggle clothes, light colours, elegance, a hint of feminity. Apart from the elegance, none of these would've applied to the boy I was in Hogwarts. But then again, that Draco Malfoy was Heir Malfoy and lived to please his father. Harry Potter's pet has a different set of rules.

I still remember the day we first formed our agreement, four years ago, now. Two days after Harry 'accepted' me, we thrashed out the rules of our engagement - or rather, Harry set all of the rules except for one that I pled and begged for. He was gracious enough to allow it.

1.) I had to be available to Harry at all times except when I was working (or in classes as I was during that last year). Harry could do anything he desired to me so long as he did not cause any permanent damage.

2.) Every alternate weekend, Harry and I would spend Saturday night together and Harry would fulfil the Veela's needs for proximity and affection.

3.) I was not allowed to make any attempt to contact Harry unless I had specific orders to do otherwise.

4.) I was to go out of my way to ensure that my existence and my association with Harry didn't cause any discomfort to his 'real' family i.e. the Weasleys, the Grangers, the Longbottoms, my aunt and her grandson.

5.) Harry would supervise all my activities, including the management of any and all inheritances (*cough* the Malfoy estate *cough*), and reserved the right to prohibit anything that even remotely resembled an involvement in the Dark Arts.

6.) Our association was to be kept absolutely secret. Only the Golden Trio, Ginny and my parents were allowed to know of it.

These were the rules my existence depended on. Rules that I had seared into my heart and soul lest I never forget them. Rules that I dare not break, because the breaking would lead to a loss too great to comprehend.

And the worst part? I loved him.

He'd left me covered in vomit and trembling from the Cruciactus. He'd made me write with a Blood Quill until my hand showed no sign of healing. He'd raped me raw - entered me unprepared and left me bruised and bleeding.

And yet. Every time I saw him I felt hope rise in my chest. I delighted in his attentions, even as my flesh bruised under his fingers and my rectum throbbed in agony. I felt gratitude as I screamed under the Cruciactus. I counted the days to the next Saturday he'd stay over.

As a child I had never understood how my Aunt Bellatrix could FEEL the way she did for the Dark Lord. But now I did - it was how I felt for Harry. We both loved our tormentors and I could only be glad that Harry was kinder to me than He had been to her.

By now, I had arrived into Harry's presence and gotten into position, kneeling demurely with my eyes cast down and my head bent even as I pulled my attention to the here and now and thought frantically.

Harry was quiet, though I was sure I had seen both anger and impatience in his eyes in the interval between entering the room and assuming the position. I worked on keeping my hand relaxed on my thighs, part of checking on the state of my nails to reassure myself of their perfection as I worked to not betray my tension. This was Harry's third unscheduled (read 'torture and abuse time') visit this week and I was not completely recovered from when he called on me two days ago. I had to get him to go easy on me. That meant relaxing my muscles and being very very quiet and obedient. Submissive.