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"You asked me once why I cared about you. Do you want to know the real answer?"

"Yes," Draco whispered.

"Because I know you'll always do whatever it takes to protect yourself. You'll never die to protect me, and that's the reason I'm playing this game with you. Because it's okay to kiss you and hold you, because you'll be able to take care of yourself. If you betrayed me, then we'd both survive it. It would hurt, but at least you'd be alive."

"If I betrayed you, Potter, you probably wouldn't live through it."

"That's where you're wrong, Malfoy. You think I trust you unconditionally because I'm a Gryffindor. Because my name is Harry Potter and you've spent your entire life listening to tales of the righteous greatness that is me. You think I'd just let you lead me blindly into a trap. Only love makes you that blind, Malfoy. I don't love you yet."



. I want to play a game with you. Since the truth comes most naturally to me and lies most naturally to you, then we will ask each other a series of questions. I will answer truthfully and you will answer with lies. Yes or No questions. Anything goes. Would you like to play?"

--- Not for the first time, Harry wondered what had happened to Blaise to make him whatever it was he was now. Blaise had been normal once, just like he and Draco had been. He wasn't now. Whatever he was now, it wasn't sane, and it sure as hell wasn't normal.

. "Do you know what happened to Draco during the summer after fourth year?"

Blaise's eyes narrowed, and Harry could see his shoulders tremble, "No. Did you enjoy watching Cedric Diggory die?"

"No," Harry murmured. He'd definitely hit a sore point with that last question, but it probably wouldn't be a good idea to push that line of questioning too fast. "Do you know what happened to Draco because he told you?"

"Yes. Are you trying to convert Draco to your side?"

"Yes. Do you know what happened to Draco because you were there?"

"Be careful, Potter. This game can be over just as quickly as it began."

---
Blaise nodded, pulling his legs to his chest and hugging them tightly. "Maybe, but not to hurt you. Did you know that with the proper discipline the Cruciatus curse can damage the mind, but leave it essentially intact? It takes a great amount of skill and training, it's easier to simply break the mind into pieces. Easier and safer. However, the best and most loyal servants can be constructed through careful application of the Cruciatus curse. A mind can be crafted and honed through pain and madness to create the most useful tool at a wizard's disposal."




"I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't hurt me, Potter. I'll never let you hurt me."

"Okay," Harry whispered, his voice shaky as he closed his eyes and set about picturing the delicately ridged skin beneath his fingertips tearing open, splitting apart beneath his touch and spilling blood. He pictured the flesh ripping and he could feel it as warm blood bubbled forth, covering his fingers, and he heard Draco's scream like a distant cry as he pictured that flesh mending itself once more, smooth and flawless perfection beneath his fingertips. Flesh cool and warm at once beneath the thick layer of spilled blood. He knew that if he wanted he could open that flesh once more; he could spill that warm blood until the body cooled and died. And it frightened him.

And thrilled him.

And that was perhaps the worst of it.

When he opened his eyes he found Draco kneeling in front of him, hands cupping his shoulders, shaking him. "Potter! Potter!"

Harry gazed at him for a long, dazed moment before glancing down at his hands to find them clean of blood. If there'd even been any blood on them to begin with.

"Potter!"

Harry glanced back up to find Draco's face a bare inch from his own. Before he could think of what he was doing, Harry closed that last inch and caught Draco's lips blindly with his own.

There was no thought, no doubt, just the need to feel Draco's lips beneath his. To know that he had not given in to that momentary temptation and that this body was still warm and alive and whole. He needed to map the curves of this body with fingers, lips. Memorize the texture of skin and jutting bone. Explore the depths of this soul as best he could, using this body as his vessel. The need to open Draco's mouth and plunder those warm depths overwhelmed any possibility of thinking or stopping.

The next few moments passed in a blur of skin and touch, warmth and wetness.

A soft muffled cry escaping Draco's mouth as he pushed fingers through Harry's tousled hair.

Soft yanks and tugs as his fingers worked through the tangles.

Harry's arms wrapping around Draco's waist, pulling him closer.

The warmth of skin against skin and the thrill of thrusting hips.

Draco's teeth against his neck, bruising the skin.

His lips dusting kisses across Draco's cheekbones.

Draco's voice, a harsh, broken whisper. "Need you... so much..."

He felt Draco's fingers struggling with the fastenings on his trousers and reached down to help, allowing Draco to shove his trousers off as he bit at Draco's collarbone.

The thought splashed over him like cold water, and he snapped to himself to find that they were both still clothed, barely, in boxer shorts and the trousers that were still tangled about Draco's ankles. His legs were locked around Draco's waist, their hips grinding together almost painfully as Draco clung to him, mouth buried against his throat to muffle his moans. Harry swallowed, his fingers tangled in Draco's soft blond hair.

His body was too hot, almost feverish, and he heard someone groan, loud and low and deep, and realized that it was he.

"Draco?" he whispered, and he felt the blond jerk, as if awakening from a dream.

"Don't... call... me... that," Draco panted, drawing back enough to look at Harry with an unfocused gaze. "What are we... We shouldn't be doing this, Potter."

"I realize that," Harry replied, untangling his legs from Draco's waist and slipping out of the blond's embrace. His body screamed its protest at the move, and it took more self-control than he'd previously thought himself capable of to keep from throwing Draco to the floor and finishing what they'd started. He continued to scoot backwards until he was seated on the icy stone floor.

---

"I think I do," Draco muttered. "That spell I had you perform has side effects, Potter. Increased passion is one of them. When it's used in a torture situation, it just increases the torturer's fervor. Makes him want to hurt the person he's torturing just that much more. It allows the torturer to go on for days without sleep or rest. Very efficient. I figured that it wouldn't have an effect on you because you weren't trying to torture me. Apparently, I was wrong. And... I suppose... I should have done more research before making you perform it. I'm.... sorry."

Harry couldn't help smiling at the grudging tone in Draco's voice. "You really hate admitting that you're wrong, don't you?"

"You're just figuring that out?" Draco grumbled, raising his gaze to Harry's once more. "I really am sorry, you know."

"I know. It's okay. We're both still in one piece, right?"

"I suppose. You know, even though it's a very, very bad idea, I..."

"I know"
Draco laughed softly, shaking his head as he began the laborious process of wriggling back into his trousers, "I hate you, Harry Potter."

"I know. I hate you too, Malfoy."