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Title: The Black Mirror 2/36
Author: Maxine
Translator: [livejournal.com profile] drippingcherry
Link to the German original: here
Beta/britpick: [livejournal.com profile] lokifan
Wordcount: ~2,000
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: R/NC-17
Timeline: 6 years post-Hogwarts (begun in 2004, so not compliant with HBP or DH)
Warnings: Rape/non-con, dark themes, violence, angst.
Summary: “When will you be able to look in the mirror again, and not feel guilt?” – “Not until you can look me in the eyes without fear.”
Translator's note: This is one of my all-time favorite H/D fics, and I'm happy to be able to share it with you. I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I did. The author and I appreciate your feedback.



-#-

“When will you be able to look in the mirror again, and not feel guilt?”
“Not until you can look me in the eyes without fear.”

-#-


He could feel the piercing looks of the other Death Eaters behind him. There wasn’t a sound to be heard, save for the blood rushing in his ears and the quiet dripping of water. An unnatural silence came upon the old chapel. Everyone in the room seemed to be holding their breath in anticipation of what was to come.

Draco knew that he couldn’t allow himself to hesitate for even a second, to show even the smallest sign of fear. But it was difficult. His heart pounded against his ribs. One more step, and he would have Harry. He laid his hands on the other man’s shoulders and pushed up him against the wall with his own body, taking care to hide Harry’s nakedness from the others’ ravenous gazes. The heat of Harry’s bare skin electrified his fingers and sent sparks
coursing through his veins. Oh, how he had longed to possess that skin. But the price he had to pay for it was high.

Harry cringed, either from Draco’s touch or the coldness of the wall against his back, but he didn’t flinch. He met Draco’s gaze bravely. Mixed in with the fear in those remarkable green eyes was a hint of guilt. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. He bit his lip, which thereupon finally stopped quivering.

Draco guessed the words more than he actually heard them. Draco dragged his tongue along the slender neck that presented itself. The absorbing scent of musk that rose from the tanned skin fogged his mind. “You’re the last one here who should have to be sorry for anything,” he breathed in Harry’s ear. His voice sounded unusually hoarse. “I hope, only for your sake, that you’ve made the right choice.”

Harry made an indefinable noise and closed his eyes. “Better you than one of them,” he ground out with difficulty, turning his head to the side to give Draco’s tongue more space.

Draco didn’t answer. Harry’s hot breath stroking his cheek caused a fluttering sensation in his belly. He glided his hands over Harry’s body, trying to display what small amount of tenderness he could get away with. His fingernails scratched fine red marks on the otherwise flawless skin. His teeth sank playfully into the curve of Harry’s neck, leaving behind dark marks that labeled him as his property.

He heard Harry gasp softly as he pinched his nipples with soft force, stimulating the sensitive skin to the extreme. Surprised, he noticed that his ministrations were leaving his nemesis anything but cold. As much as Harry tried to fight his increasing arousal, as much as he would have liked to rebel against it, he was defenseless against his body’s reaction. It was a battle he couldn’t win.

Draco felt something hard pressing against his own erection, and saw the shame and humiliation burning in Harry’s eyes. It unsettled him deeply. In that moment, it became clear to him that there were ways and means of breaking Harry Potter, of turning his innermost self inside out and leaving it visible to everyone. A fact that shocked Draco. Somehow, he had always considered Harry relatively invincible, But Harry wouldn’t come out of this unharmed.

“Get on with it, Malfoy!” Dolohov’s bored voice tore him out of his thoughts, leaving him wincing as if he’d been hit. “Take him already. And take him hard.” The black mass of Death Eaters muttered in agreement, a sound that seemed to come from far away.

The feeling of powerlessness was nearly driving him out of his mind. He had to give up hope. It was too late; no one would come and save the day. His insides struggled against the thought of having to force himself on Harry, but he
had no other choice. He knew that if he was too gentle with Harry, Rookwood would follow through on his sick promise and turn Potter over to the horde of Death Eaters. Draco wouldn’t let it come to that. It was enough that they were allowed to watch.

He loosened Harry’s bonds and pushed him roughly to the ground. Harry didn't resist, nor did he make any effort to break his fall. Apparently he had realized that the situation was hopeless, and was resigned to his fate.

Draco’s throat tightened as he saw the naked young man lying prone on the cold stones, his whole body shaking. Completely at Draco’s mercy. The thought aroused him, even though he didn’t want it to.

No sound came from Harry’s lips. His eyes were tightly shut. Draco could tell by the way his jawbone jutted outward that he had clenched his teeth. He felt an urge to push the moist strands of hair away from Harry’s face, but something held him back. Gentle gestures weren’t called for right now. They would only show the others that he had feelings he wasn’t allowed to have.

“Try to relax. It won’t hurt as much, then,” he murmured softly as he kneeled over him and unzipped his trousers. Torn between desire and reluctance, he parted the lean thighs. Then, after taking one last deep breath, he thrust in.

Myriad sensations assailed him all at once; the flood washed every single rational thought away with it. Only as if through a haze did he notice how the body beneath him stiffened under his forceful penetration, the muscles cramping. Harry gasped for air and arched his back. His fingernails made a scraping noise as his hands clawed at the cold, wet floor.

Draco didn’t know what had come over him. It was all happening way too fast. There was no time to react. He lost control of himself, realising that he could no longer hold back as the ecstasy took over. His body wasn’t betraying only him, it was betraying them both. And Harry was the one who would suffer for it. Too long had Draco yearned for the exhilarating tightness that surrounded him. Too long had he been forced to do without.

For the first time that night, he forgot about Harry’s pain, forgot about the Death Eaters that were mute witnesses to this perverted act. He seized the Auror’s shoulders in a firm grip. Again and again he drove into that desirable body, now streaming with sweat. Every single thrust brought him closer to the edge of insanity. And he enjoyed it. He didn’t care that the hard stone floor was chafing Harry’s bare skin bloody. Didn’t hear the suppressed cries of pain. Stars began to dance before his eyes, letting him forget the world around him. Groaning, he climaxed and then collapsed, exhausted onto Harry’s back.

Slowly the fog in his head began to clear. With the last reserves of his strength, he lifted himself off Harry’s maltreated, sperm-and-blood-soiled body and buttoned up his trousers. As if in a trance, he unfastened his Death Eater cloak and used it to cover Harry’s naked form. They had seen enough. The show was over.

He crouched next to Harry on the floor, leaning his back against the wall. His body was heavy, and his mind was numb. The sight of Harry didn’t allow him to suppress his guilt any longer—it surrounded him full-force, burned him from within. Harry was resting his head on his forearm, and couldn’t seem to stop trembling. Draco didn’t dare touch him, although he would have liked to stroke his back soothingly. He was afraid that he would only make things worse by doing so.

He lifted his eyes and looked directly at the lewd, grinning faces of the Death Eaters. For a moment, no one said a word. It was Rookwood who broke the silence. “Welcome among our ranks,” he said quietly with a devilish smile. “Now, you are truly one of us.”

He offered Draco his hand, but Draco didn’t take it. What he wanted was to cover his ears, to not hear or see anything. He felt a helpless rage gathering inside him and beginning to break its way inexorably towards the surface. He felt nothing but a fervent wish to inflict horrific acts of torture on all of them, to shoot the Cruciatus Curse wildly at them. Slowly—and without Rookwood’s help—he lifted himself from the ground. Yet before he could reach for his wand, all hell broke loose.

Aurors stormed into the chapel without warning, taking the Death Eaters completely by surprise. Apparently, Ginny and Terry had been able to escape the Forbidden Forest and alert the Order. Raging cries resounded through the old walls. Curses flew this way and that, bouncing off the walls.

Draco didn’t have to think long. He ducked his way under the curses, grabbed the softly groaning Harry under the arm in a firm grip, and pulled him out of the tangle of spells and into an isolated corner of the room. Harry didn’t protest. In his eyes, there was an emptiness so frightening that Draco had to look away. Guilt ate away mercilessly at his insides, and for a moment, he was afraid he’d throw up. He tried not to think about what had happened shortly before. About what he had done. But the nausea wouldn’t go away.

A few minutes later—which seemed like hours to Draco—the fight was over. The sickening smell of scorched flesh filled the air. Some of the Death Eaters had been hit by the Aurors’ stunning spells and now lay on the ground with obscenely twisted limbs. The majority of them had been able to flee through the back door. Agitated, he looked at the worried faces of Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, and Ginny Weasley, who were approaching them quickly. Ginny paled at the sight of Harry, covering her mouth with her hand.

“What happened to him?” Lupin demanded as he crouched down next to Harry and touched his shoulder. Harry flinched, but didn’t struggle.

Draco’s stomach clenched at Harry’s reaction. He wanted to open his mouth and say something, but the words wouldn’t come past his lips. A sickening feeling of disgust choked him, left him coughing and brought tears to his eyes.

“Dammit!” Ginny’s voice sounded panicked. She gripped Harry’s shoulders and shook him. “Say something already!”

Draco couldn’t take any more. He pushed Ginny away roughly, ran outside and threw up in the bushes. His body shook with disgust—it didn’t want to stop, not until his stomach was at last empty. Beads of sweat gathered on his forehead. The ground beneath his feet seemed to spin, making him stagger as he lost his footing.

Sounds of battle came towards him from somewhere in the darkness. It seemed that other Aurors had followed the fleeing Death Eaters and found them. A light wind had risen, blowing at the sweat-soaked hair that stuck to his forehead. He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. Harry’s bewitching scent still clung to the fabric. A lark began to sing in the distance.

Lupin, Tonks, and Ginny exited the chapel. Near them, on a stretcher that Lupin directed with his wand, lay Harry, still covered with the black cloak. His eyes had closed in the meantime, and he was pale as death.

Draco felt dizzy again, and there was nothing he could hold on to. It was a short, desperate moment in which he wished for nothing more than death.

Nymphadora Tonks’eyes held a look of sympathy, but there was nothing she could do for him—officially, he was a Death Eater and an enemy of the Order. “See to it that you get out of here as quickly as possible,” she muttered softly, before she turned around and disappeared into the darkness along with Harry and the other Aurors.

He was oblivious to her words. Time and space seemed to have become worthless. Hours went by while he lay on his back on the damp forest floor and stared into the ceiling of dense leaves, through which the first pale light of day was slowly beginning to shine. But the terrible burn of guilt inside him wouldn’t abate.

Tbc...
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