dripping_cherry (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dripping_cherry) wrote2007-02-11 04:14 pm
dripping_cherry) wrote2007-02-11 04:14 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Title: Black Mirror (Schwarzer Spiegel)
Author: Maxine
Translated from the German by Dripping_Cherry
You can find the original here: http://www.fanfiktion.de/s/40aa633b000009d3067007d0
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: R/NC-17
Timeline: 6 years post-Hogwarts
Warning: Rape, Non/Con, slash, lemon, violence, dark, angst. If you can’t deal with it, you’d best not read it.
Wordcount: 2,101
Betas: Maxine and Dime- thanks!
Summary: “When will you be able to look into the mirror again, and not feel guilt?” – “Only when you can look into my eyes without fear.”
“When will you be able to look into the mirror again, and not feel guilt?” – “Only when you can look into my eyes without fear.”
*****
He felt the threatening glares of the other Death Eaters on his back. There was no sound except the roaring of blood in his ears and the quiet dripping of water. An unnatural silence had come over the chapel. Everyone in the room seemed to be holding their breath in feverish anticipation of what was to come.
Draco knew that he could not allow himself a moment’s hesitation, or show even the tiniest hint of fear. It was difficult. His heart thumped hard against his ribs. Only one more small step, and he would reach Harry. He laid his hands on Harry’s shoulders and pressed him against the stone wall with his body, making certain to shield Harry’s nakedness from the voracious gazes of the others. The warmth of that naked skin sent sparks of electricity through his fingers and surges of heat through his veins. Oh, how much he had yearned to be able to possess this skin. But the price he had to pay was high.
Harry cringed, whether from Draco’s touch or the coldness of the wall at his back, but he didn’t jerk away. He withstood his gaze bravely. A hint of guilt was visible in the fear that lay in his vivid green eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, tormented. He bit his lower lip, which thereupon finally stopped quivering.
Draco anticipated those words more so than he actually heard them. He licked along the slender neck that was presented to him. The spellbinding scent of musk that rose from the tanned skin befuddled his mind. “You’re the last one here who should be sorry about anything,” he breathed in his 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 the others,” he ground out with difficulty, turning his head to the side to give Draco’s tongue even more room to play.
Draco didn’t answer. Harry’s hot breath stroking his cheek caused a fluttering sensation in his stomach area. He glided his hands over Harry’s body, trying to show as little gentleness as possible. His fingernails drew fine red scratch marks on the otherwise flawless skin. His teeth sank playfully into the curve of his neck, leaving behind dark telltale marks that labeled the black-haired man as his property.
He heard Harry gasp softly as he pinched his nipples with mild force, the sensitive skin stimulated to the extreme. Astonished, he noticed that his touches were leaving his nemesis anything but cold, as much as he tried to fight his increasing arousal, to rebel against it. Harry was defenseless against his body’s reaction, which betrayed him, allowing him to find pleasure in this treatment. He couldn’t win this fight. (Was bedeutet ausfocht?)
Draco felt something hard pressing against his own erection, and saw the shame and humiliation burning in Harry’s eyes, which unsettled him deeply. In this moment, it became clear to him that there were ways and means of breaking Harry Potter, of turning him inside out to leave him bare before everyone-- a fact that shocked Draco. Somehow, he had always considered Harry relatively invulnerable. But all of a sudden, he wasn’t sure if Harry would come out of this one unharmed.
“Get to the point, Malfoy!” Dolohov’s bored voice tore him out of his thoughts, leaving him wincing as if he was being whipped. “Take him at last. And take him hard.” The black mass of Death Eaters muttered in agreement, a sound that seemed to be coming from very far away.
The feeling of powerlessness and helplessness was nearly driving him out of his mind. He had to finally give up hoping. It was too late. No one would come to save the scene. Everything inside him struggled against having to force himself on Harry, but he had no other choice. He knew that if he was too careful in his dealing with Harry, Rookwood would follow through on his sick promise and turn Potter over to the pack of Death Eaters. Draco wouldn’t let it come to that. It was already enough that they were allowed to watch.
He loosened Harry’s bonds before pushing him roughly to the ground. Harry did not resist, nor did he make any effort to break his fall. Apparently he had realized the hopelessness of the situation and resigned to his fate.
Draco’s throat tightened as he saw the naked young man lying facedown on the cold stones, his whole body shaking. Completely at his mercy. The thought aroused him, even though he didn’t want it to.
No sound came out of Harry’s lips; his eyes were shut hard. Draco could tell by his protuberant jaw-bones that he had clenched his teeth. He felt an urge to push the most strands of hair away from Harry’s face, but something held him back. Tender gestures weren’t called for right now. They would only show the others that he had feelings that he wasn’t allowed to have.
“Try to relax. Then, it won’t hurt as much,” he muttered softly as he kneeled over him and undid his trousers. Inwardly torn between desire and reluctance, he spread the strong, lean thighs apart. Then, after taking one last deep breath, he pierced into him.
A thousand sensations and impressions assailed him at the same time, the flood ripped every single rational thought away with it. Only as if through a haze did he notice how the body beneath him stiffened with his forceful penetration, muscles cramping. Harry gasped for air and bowed his back. His fingernails made a grinding noise as his hands clawed at the cold, wet floor.
Draco didn’t know what was happening to him. It was all going way to fast. No time to react. He lost control of himself, realizing that he could no longer stop himself as 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. To long had be been forced to forbear it.
For the first time this night, he had forgotten Harry’s pain, forgotten the Death Eaters that were mute witnesses to this perverted act. He seized the shoulders of the Auror in a firm grip. Again and again he drove into the desirable body, which was 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 rubbing Harry’s bare skin bloody. Didn’t hear the suppressed cries of pain. Stars began to dance before his eyes, allowing him to forget the world around him. Groaning, he reached his peak and collapsed, exhausted, on top of Harry’s back.
Slowly the fog in his head began to clear. With the last reserves of his strength, he lifted himself from the oppressed, sperm-and-blood-soiled body and button his trousers back up. As if in a trance, he unfastened his Death Eater cloak, and with it, covered Harry’s nakedness. 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 numb and heavy; his head felt empty. The sight of Harry didn’t allow the feeling of guilt to be repressed any longer—it surrounded him full-force, burned him from within. Harry had laid his head on his lower arm, and could not stop trembling. Draco didn’t dare touch him, although he would have liked to stroke his back soothingly. He was afraid that, by doing so, he would only make things worse.
He lifted his gaze and looked directly at the lewd, grinning faces of the Death Eaters. For a few passing seconds, no one said a word. It was Rookwood who broke the silence. “Welcome to our ranks,” he said quietly with a devilish smile. “Now, you are truly one of us.”
He stretched out his hand invitingly, but Draco didn’t grasp it. What he wanted most was to cover his ears, not to hear or see anything. He felt a helpless rage agglomerating thunderously inside him and beginning to break its way inexorably through the surface. He felt nothing but a fervent wish to inflict horrific torments on them all, to haphazardly fire the Cruciatus curse at them. Slowly—and without Rookwood’s help—he lifted himself off the ground. Yet, before he could reach for his wand, all hell broke loose.
Aurors stormed 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 ponder for long. He ducked his way under the curses, grabbed one 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. The young man did not protest. In his eyes, there was an emptiness so frightening that Draco quickly had to look away. Feelings of guilt ate away mercilessly at his insides, and for a moment, he feared he would puke. He tried not to think about what had happened shortly before. About what he had done. But the nausea wouldn’t go away.
After a few minutes, which seemed like hours to him, passed, 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. A 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 with hurried steps. Ginny paled at the sight of Harry, covering her mouth with her hand.
“What happened to him?” Lupin asked sharply while he crouched down next to Harry and touched his shoulder. The black-haired man 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 didn’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 panicky. She gripped his shoulders and shook him. “Say something, finally!”
He couldn’t bear anymore of this. He just couldn’t. He pushed Ginny away roughly, ran outside like crazy, and threw up in the bushes. Feelings of disgust shook him—it didn’t want to stop, not until his stomach was empty, at last. Beads of sweat gathered on his forehead. The ground beneath his feet seemed to spin, making him lose his foothold and stagger.
Sounds of fighting came towards him from somewhere out of the darkness. Apparently, the other Aurors had followed the fleeing Death Eaters and successfully determined their location. A slight wind had arisen, blowing at the sweat-soaked hair that stuck to his forehead. He wiped his mouth with the sleeves of his shirt. Harry’s bewitching scent still clung to the material. A lark began to sing in the distance.
Lupin, Tonks, and Ginny came out of 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. Again, he was overcome by dizziness, and there was nothing he could hold on to. It was a short, desperate moment in which he wished for nothing but to be able to just die.
Sympathy lay in the eyes of Nymphadora Tonks, 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, in which 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 beginning to shine. The terrible burn of guilt inside him never abated.
Tbc...
Author: Maxine
Translated from the German by Dripping_Cherry
You can find the original here: http://www.fanfiktion.de/s/40aa633b000009d3067007d0
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: R/NC-17
Timeline: 6 years post-Hogwarts
Warning: Rape, Non/Con, slash, lemon, violence, dark, angst. If you can’t deal with it, you’d best not read it.
Wordcount: 2,101
Betas: Maxine and Dime- thanks!
Summary: “When will you be able to look into the mirror again, and not feel guilt?” – “Only when you can look into my eyes without fear.”
“When will you be able to look into the mirror again, and not feel guilt?” – “Only when you can look into my eyes without fear.”
*****
He felt the threatening glares of the other Death Eaters on his back. There was no sound except the roaring of blood in his ears and the quiet dripping of water. An unnatural silence had come over the chapel. Everyone in the room seemed to be holding their breath in feverish anticipation of what was to come.
Draco knew that he could not allow himself a moment’s hesitation, or show even the tiniest hint of fear. It was difficult. His heart thumped hard against his ribs. Only one more small step, and he would reach Harry. He laid his hands on Harry’s shoulders and pressed him against the stone wall with his body, making certain to shield Harry’s nakedness from the voracious gazes of the others. The warmth of that naked skin sent sparks of electricity through his fingers and surges of heat through his veins. Oh, how much he had yearned to be able to possess this skin. But the price he had to pay was high.
Harry cringed, whether from Draco’s touch or the coldness of the wall at his back, but he didn’t jerk away. He withstood his gaze bravely. A hint of guilt was visible in the fear that lay in his vivid green eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, tormented. He bit his lower lip, which thereupon finally stopped quivering.
Draco anticipated those words more so than he actually heard them. He licked along the slender neck that was presented to him. The spellbinding scent of musk that rose from the tanned skin befuddled his mind. “You’re the last one here who should be sorry about anything,” he breathed in his 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 the others,” he ground out with difficulty, turning his head to the side to give Draco’s tongue even more room to play.
Draco didn’t answer. Harry’s hot breath stroking his cheek caused a fluttering sensation in his stomach area. He glided his hands over Harry’s body, trying to show as little gentleness as possible. His fingernails drew fine red scratch marks on the otherwise flawless skin. His teeth sank playfully into the curve of his neck, leaving behind dark telltale marks that labeled the black-haired man as his property.
He heard Harry gasp softly as he pinched his nipples with mild force, the sensitive skin stimulated to the extreme. Astonished, he noticed that his touches were leaving his nemesis anything but cold, as much as he tried to fight his increasing arousal, to rebel against it. Harry was defenseless against his body’s reaction, which betrayed him, allowing him to find pleasure in this treatment. He couldn’t win this fight. (Was bedeutet ausfocht?)
Draco felt something hard pressing against his own erection, and saw the shame and humiliation burning in Harry’s eyes, which unsettled him deeply. In this moment, it became clear to him that there were ways and means of breaking Harry Potter, of turning him inside out to leave him bare before everyone-- a fact that shocked Draco. Somehow, he had always considered Harry relatively invulnerable. But all of a sudden, he wasn’t sure if Harry would come out of this one unharmed.
“Get to the point, Malfoy!” Dolohov’s bored voice tore him out of his thoughts, leaving him wincing as if he was being whipped. “Take him at last. And take him hard.” The black mass of Death Eaters muttered in agreement, a sound that seemed to be coming from very far away.
The feeling of powerlessness and helplessness was nearly driving him out of his mind. He had to finally give up hoping. It was too late. No one would come to save the scene. Everything inside him struggled against having to force himself on Harry, but he had no other choice. He knew that if he was too careful in his dealing with Harry, Rookwood would follow through on his sick promise and turn Potter over to the pack of Death Eaters. Draco wouldn’t let it come to that. It was already enough that they were allowed to watch.
He loosened Harry’s bonds before pushing him roughly to the ground. Harry did not resist, nor did he make any effort to break his fall. Apparently he had realized the hopelessness of the situation and resigned to his fate.
Draco’s throat tightened as he saw the naked young man lying facedown on the cold stones, his whole body shaking. Completely at his mercy. The thought aroused him, even though he didn’t want it to.
No sound came out of Harry’s lips; his eyes were shut hard. Draco could tell by his protuberant jaw-bones that he had clenched his teeth. He felt an urge to push the most strands of hair away from Harry’s face, but something held him back. Tender gestures weren’t called for right now. They would only show the others that he had feelings that he wasn’t allowed to have.
“Try to relax. Then, it won’t hurt as much,” he muttered softly as he kneeled over him and undid his trousers. Inwardly torn between desire and reluctance, he spread the strong, lean thighs apart. Then, after taking one last deep breath, he pierced into him.
A thousand sensations and impressions assailed him at the same time, the flood ripped every single rational thought away with it. Only as if through a haze did he notice how the body beneath him stiffened with his forceful penetration, muscles cramping. Harry gasped for air and bowed his back. His fingernails made a grinding noise as his hands clawed at the cold, wet floor.
Draco didn’t know what was happening to him. It was all going way to fast. No time to react. He lost control of himself, realizing that he could no longer stop himself as 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. To long had be been forced to forbear it.
For the first time this night, he had forgotten Harry’s pain, forgotten the Death Eaters that were mute witnesses to this perverted act. He seized the shoulders of the Auror in a firm grip. Again and again he drove into the desirable body, which was 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 rubbing Harry’s bare skin bloody. Didn’t hear the suppressed cries of pain. Stars began to dance before his eyes, allowing him to forget the world around him. Groaning, he reached his peak and collapsed, exhausted, on top of Harry’s back.
Slowly the fog in his head began to clear. With the last reserves of his strength, he lifted himself from the oppressed, sperm-and-blood-soiled body and button his trousers back up. As if in a trance, he unfastened his Death Eater cloak, and with it, covered Harry’s nakedness. 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 numb and heavy; his head felt empty. The sight of Harry didn’t allow the feeling of guilt to be repressed any longer—it surrounded him full-force, burned him from within. Harry had laid his head on his lower arm, and could not stop trembling. Draco didn’t dare touch him, although he would have liked to stroke his back soothingly. He was afraid that, by doing so, he would only make things worse.
He lifted his gaze and looked directly at the lewd, grinning faces of the Death Eaters. For a few passing seconds, no one said a word. It was Rookwood who broke the silence. “Welcome to our ranks,” he said quietly with a devilish smile. “Now, you are truly one of us.”
He stretched out his hand invitingly, but Draco didn’t grasp it. What he wanted most was to cover his ears, not to hear or see anything. He felt a helpless rage agglomerating thunderously inside him and beginning to break its way inexorably through the surface. He felt nothing but a fervent wish to inflict horrific torments on them all, to haphazardly fire the Cruciatus curse at them. Slowly—and without Rookwood’s help—he lifted himself off the ground. Yet, before he could reach for his wand, all hell broke loose.
Aurors stormed 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 ponder for long. He ducked his way under the curses, grabbed one 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. The young man did not protest. In his eyes, there was an emptiness so frightening that Draco quickly had to look away. Feelings of guilt ate away mercilessly at his insides, and for a moment, he feared he would puke. He tried not to think about what had happened shortly before. About what he had done. But the nausea wouldn’t go away.
After a few minutes, which seemed like hours to him, passed, 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. A 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 with hurried steps. Ginny paled at the sight of Harry, covering her mouth with her hand.
“What happened to him?” Lupin asked sharply while he crouched down next to Harry and touched his shoulder. The black-haired man 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 didn’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 panicky. She gripped his shoulders and shook him. “Say something, finally!”
He couldn’t bear anymore of this. He just couldn’t. He pushed Ginny away roughly, ran outside like crazy, and threw up in the bushes. Feelings of disgust shook him—it didn’t want to stop, not until his stomach was empty, at last. Beads of sweat gathered on his forehead. The ground beneath his feet seemed to spin, making him lose his foothold and stagger.
Sounds of fighting came towards him from somewhere out of the darkness. Apparently, the other Aurors had followed the fleeing Death Eaters and successfully determined their location. A slight wind had arisen, blowing at the sweat-soaked hair that stuck to his forehead. He wiped his mouth with the sleeves of his shirt. Harry’s bewitching scent still clung to the material. A lark began to sing in the distance.
Lupin, Tonks, and Ginny came out of 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. Again, he was overcome by dizziness, and there was nothing he could hold on to. It was a short, desperate moment in which he wished for nothing but to be able to just die.
Sympathy lay in the eyes of Nymphadora Tonks, 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, in which 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 beginning to shine. The terrible burn of guilt inside him never abated.
Tbc...
no subject
I liked that Draco felt guilty but not so much at the moment he finally got to have Harry, it was very like him. And I love top!Draco *g* Can't wait to see what happens next! ^^
(no subject)
no subject
I just saw you started to translate "Schwarze Spiegel"! Great job! I'm happy that you do this, 'cause I think this story is too good just to be read by a German audience.
*thumps up*