Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4911019.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con,
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Draco_Malfoy/Harry_Potter/Severus_Snape, Draco_Malfoy/Severus_Snape
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Draco_Malfoy, Severus_Snape
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Time_Travel, Parallel_Universes, Dark, Tragedy,
      Angst_and_Porn, patchwork_fic, Coitus_Interruptus, (though_not_as_a_means
      of_contraception), Death_Eaters, Torture, Alternate_Universe_-_Voldemort
      Wins, Angst_and_Hurt/Comfort, No_Horcruxes, mild_payback_against_the
      Dursleys, painful_naivety
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-10-01 Completed: 2015-10-22 Chapters: 4/4 Words: 21078
****** Death of a Raven ******
by EvilDime
Summary
     Who is RAB? ...Harry had help that night on the Astronomy Tower, and
     things ended rather differently. AU from the end of HBP.
Notes
     Disclaimer: As always, nothing you recognize belongs to me, it's all
     JK Rowling's. I don't earn any money with this.
     Alright, this is another older fic (though I'll soon be running out
     of those), one I already translated some 5 years ago and posted on
     AFF. The original title is "Rabentod". The fic itself is a crudely
     shaped cross-breed of two rather different species of plot bunnies,
     with a noticeable break between first part (plot) and second part
     (not). Oh, and the prologue originally may have initially been a
     third, independent plot bunny, come to think of it... Not one of my
     better works, but if you like dark themes, dub-con, non-con and mind
     fuck, or male threesome sex, or some mild revenge on the Dursleys,
     maybe you'll still enjoy some part or other of this mess. ; )
***** Prologue - Happy Birthday to Me *****
11:59 p.m.
A pair of green eyes was following the progress of the longest hand on a
battered old alarm clock sitting upon the bedside table. Come on, Harry
thought.
Only 40 more seconds... 38... 35... Harry was struggling to keep a hold on
himself. He had no wish to move the hand forward with his accidental magic.
Even though he had been staring at it for hours, waiting impatiently for the
clock to finally indicate 12 o'clock.
10 seconds left now... 5... 4... 3... 2... only one more...
Harry's heels twitched. He was kneeling on the bed, his eyes glued to the hand
indicating the hours. Finally, the crooked grey strip of metal gave the all-
important lurch forward.
Midnight.
Harry uttered a wild, joyous howl and jumped up. Wasting not a single thought
on the Dursleys, he tore open the door of his little room, ran down the
hallway, stomped down the stairs and finally slid to a screeching halt in front
of the cupboard that had been his home for ten of the first eleven years of his
life.
He extended one hand and pointed to the door.
"Alohomora!"
The door burst open. Harry lovingly gazed at the odd collection of piled-up
paraphernalia which represented his whole possessions: a big cauldron, filled
to the brim with school books and parchments - in the course of six years at
Hogwarts, he had accumulated a great deal of texts and essays. In between those
pages upon pages of school work, a shimmering silver cloak was hidden, along
with a broom boasting the letters 'Firebolt' - Harry gave it a smile as though
seeing a favourite acquaintance of old. Behind the cauldron sat a large empty
bird cage, also a package full of ingredients for a great many potions, writing
utensils, an innocent-looking 'spare bit of parchment', neatly folded and
stowed for safe-keeping inside a book by the name of 'Quidditch through the
Ages'... And finally, there was the item which had prompted Harry's mad dash
though the house: his wand.
Oh, how he'd missed it!
This year had been worse than ever. Not that he'd had reason to fear an attack.
Far from it. He had finally defeated Voldemort, after the Dark Lord had shown
up on time for the end of the school year in order to give Harry a new bundle
of guilt and nightmares to take with him into the vacations like every year.
Habit, I suppose.Voldemort had been vanquished and Harry had hoped to finally
be free of the Dursleys. But no. Dumbledore had insisted.
You know yourself that too many Death Eaters are still at large, Harry. They
are a danger to you. We must not take this lightly. You will do best to spend
the holidays with your aunt and uncle, just this one last time.
Sometimes, Harry really didn't like the headmaster.
No. One. Bit.
Harry had been angry. Hadn't he just defeated Voldemort, a wizard of such power
that the whole Wizarding World had cowered before him in fear? Then why
couldn't he be trusted to take care of himself? This was so ridiculous.
At least, Dumbledore and Minister Fudge had felt sufficiently obliged to him
that they'd allowed him to do magic 'at home' (by which they meant the
Dursleys') starting with his seventeenth birthday - which, by rights, he should
have been allowed anyway. But when had the normal laws ever applied to Harry
Potter?
===============================================================================
So here he was now.
"Harry Potter!!!"
Vernon Dursley's mighty body was waltzing down the stairs, his angry little
eyes screaming murder at his nephew. His head was the colour of an over-ripe
tomato and a little vein on his forehead was pulsing and looked to be on the
brink of a nasty explosion. Just like the whole man.
Harry slowly turned around.
For years, he'd suffered the Dursleys' abuse. They had starved him to the point
he was unlikely to ever grow to his full height inherited from his parents.
They had lied to him about said parents and heritage. They had never let an
opportunity pass to show him how unworthy and deficient he was; very likely, he
would yet be struggling with this inferiority complex for years to come. They
had not clothed him adequately. Never had taken him to the zoo, the cinema, to
a restaurant, or anywhere, really, if they could avoid it. There were many
features of the Muggle world he knew less about than a pureblood wizard. Thanks
to Dudley, he had never found any friends at school. Aunt Petunia had been all
too happy to heap a major part of the house work upon his slim shoulders only a
short time after he learned to speak. And Uncle Vernon...
Harry thoughtfully considered the obese man who had come to an abrupt stop in
front of him at the sight of Harry's wand. Vernon Dursley had, during his whole
life, never had a single friendly word for Harry. He had always taken his bad
moods out on his nephew, at times accompanied by a ringing slap to the face.
Together, the three Dursleys had taught Harry to consider himself a being which
was of no importance to anyone at all.
It wasn't until Hogwarts that Harry learned there were people in this world who
cared about him. The discovery had altered his life. He began to trust in
people, to laugh openly, tell others about his problems (though he would never
admit it, he did feel better every time after Hermione had forced him to speak
up about what was bothering him). Twice, he had even thought someone were in
love with him. However, he hadn't been able to deal with the broken-hearted Cho
- he just could not live his life knowing he would never be more to her than
the Number Two - and Ginny had eventually decided that no, she did not love
him. Maybe he was, after all, a person that no one could ever truly love.
And whose fault is that?  he asked himself as his eyes narrowed in anger.
Harry had never been able to defend himself against the Dursleys. Even when he
had learned that he was a wizard and had special powers, he had still been
forbidden to use those powers on the Dursleys, and his home life had not
changed one bit. They had mercilessly used his lack of permission to perform
any magic around them, had even forbidden him to do his homework during the
holidays.
But that was in the past, now. He would never let them push him around and
command him again. It was his decision, now, when to get up in the morning,
whether to help with the household chores or what to eat for lunch.
He was free to use his magic now.
Harry's lips narrowed into a thin, hard line as he made his decision. He would
no longer be pushed around. By anyone.
Uncle Vernon had been watching the emotions flickering across Harry's face,
wondering whether he could risk screaming at his nephew and punishing him when
the boy was holding a... a wand. He grunted in distaste. But he knew well that
the boy was not allowed to do... magic- another grunt - outside his freak
school. So he was not really dangerous. Satisfied with his conclusion, Vernon
got ready to call the boy on his bluff.
"Boy, you will put that thing back into the closet right now! You are forbidden
to do anything freakish here, you know that perfectly well," he said with utter
conviction. "Now get back to you room and I don't want to hear another sound
from you, is that clear? You woke us all up! That will have to be punished.
Tomorrow, it's gardening from sunup to sundown for you, boy. And don't even
think about breakfast, lunch or dinner!"
To Vernon's great displeasure, the boy did not look troubled by this
announcement. In fact, he was smiling.
And not moving one bit.
Vernon was furious. "Boy, are you deaf? To your room, I said! Move it!"
Still, Harry remained immobile. Had Vernon paid a little more attention, he
might have noticed that it was not a kind smile that stretched his nephew's
lips. But the red-faced man did not see anything beyond the fact that his
wife's disgusting, luckily long-dead brother-in-law's spawn was defying his
orders. He grabbed the lapels of Harry's worn-out old pyjamas and raised one
arm in order to remind the little demon-spawn with a nice slap just who was the
authority in this household.
He couldn't have known that he was playing right into Harry's hands.
Harry raised his wand with relish and hissed: "Petrificus totalus!"
Vernon froze in place. Harry removed the man's meaty hand from his clothes.
Then he leant in to whisper into the irate man's ear: "Starting today, I am
officially allowed to do magic outside of school. You, Dursley, are likely
unable to imagine what that means, but you will find out soon enough, I assure
you. I owe you so much..."
Harry stepped back a little to admire the effect of his words. He was rewarded
with a Vernon Dursley whose eyes were no longer sparkling in anger, but rather
wide with fear.
"Have you ever wondered how I feel when you lose your temper at me? When you do
your worst to make me miserable, just because you're having a bad day? Can you
imagine what it's like to live every moment of every day in fear of what those
more powerful than you might do? No? Well, too bad. You are about to find
out..."
A shocked gasp from upstairs made Harry raise his head. His eyes took in
Petunia and Dudley looking down at them with pale and frightened faces. They
seemed to have heard his little one-sided conversation with Vernon.
All the better.
He turned away from his uncle and began to slowly ascend the stairs. His cousin
and aunt remained looking down at Vernon for a moment longer, then they beat a
hasty retreat. Harry raised his wand and forced them to stop and look at him.
He met his aunt's frightened gaze and growled: "I know that through my mother,
you have some idea of what damage a wand can cause,  dear aunt. "
He spat the last words in a manner that turned the endearment into a fierce
insult; add to that a twisting of his mouth as though at a bad taste and there
could be no doubt how dearly he truly held his aunt. Then he continued.
"Rest assured that what my mother did was merely child's play. I, however, have
been training to defend myself against the darkest wizard of our age for years
– and you better believe I know quite a few spells that would have thoroughly
frightened my mother." Harry's face showed a sinister smile and his eyes
narrowed into slits as he slowly raised his wand.
As soon as he released his hold on Petunia and Dudley, they fled. Too
frightened even to scream, they high-tailed it back to the closest door and
both dove into the relative safety of Petunia and Vernon's bedroom. The door
was drawn shut behind them with a loud bang.
===============================================================================
Harry gradually lowered his wand until it hung relaxedly by his side. Then he
scowled and the evil smirk was extinguished. He raised a hand to wipe at the
tired corners of his mouth. Who would have thought that a sinister smile could
be this exhausting? Malfoy, Snape and Voldemort always made it look so easy...
Calmly, Harry went back to his room and closed the door. He was sure that his
relatives would leave him in peace for at least a day or two after this
performance. Still, he locked his door with some simple protective charms –
just because he could. Falling down onto his mattress with a happy sigh, he
thought about his friends and how he would probably get their owls with some
birthday presents any minute now. This time, his smile was real and the warmth
of it reached up to make his eyes glow with happiness.
I will never again be abused and treated like dirt. I will live my life to the
fullest. That, I promised...him...
The memory of himsaddened Harry, as it always did. Angry with himself, Harry
rubbed at his suddenly moist eyes. Today was meant to be a happy day, why was
he crying again?
But how could one not feel melancholic with a grey ceiling like his overhead?,
he tried to distract himself. Harry sat up. This needed changing, right now!
"Solnyshko,"  he murmured and accompanied the Russian spell with a tiny motion
of his wand. Immediately, the walls and ceiling glowed in a resplendent, warm
yellow.
"Much better." Then, he inspected the rest of his run-down room.
The grey, faded bedsheets, one of two sets that Petunia had been using on his
bed for years, definitely had outlived their usefulness; the broken closet door
was truly annoying; the desk was a bad joke (but what would he have written
anyway, without access to his school books nor permission to send Hedwig to his
friends?); the stool was little better; the empty window-sill looked abandoned
and lifeless; the window itself was still framed by grey chunks of cement where
Vernon had attempted a makeshift-repair after the twins had completely ripped
the thing out of the wall during their rescue mission...
There was a lot to do. With a determined gesture, Harry rolled up the sleeves
of his overly large pyjamas and jumped right in.
===============================================================================
A while later, Harry was lazily turning an old sock into a flower pot.  Huh,
roses? Harry frowned. He had been thinking more along the lines of buttercups,
not something this pompous. How had this happened?  Ah well, doesn't matter.
"Wingardium leviosa." The flower pot hovered from the bed, on which Harry had
settled down again, over to the window-sill where it gently came to rest.
Meanwhile, Harry unconsciously wiped off his wand on his pyjama pants. Ever
since his first Halloween at Hogwarts, he had to think of troll bogies when he
used that spell. He had stopped paying attention to it, but the reflex to clean
his wand had tenaciously survived all those years.
With a sigh, Harry sank back into a big, fluffy pillow and inspected the fruits
of his labour.
Desk and chair were clean and the wood sparkled as though polished. In the far
right corner, Harry had meticulously piled up his school books, next to them
stood an ink pot with magical ink (in rainbow colours!) and a thin glass
holding several quills.
Above the desk hung the enlarged picture of his parents. It was his favourite
from the album Hagrid had given him in first year. Hermione, who knew how much
he loved his photos, had gifted him with a special solution last Christmas that
allowed him to copy a wizarding picture and also taught him a spell to safely
enlarge them without quality loss. His inquiries into her sudden knowledge of
wizarding photography had been answered with a fierce blush and the mumbled
words: "Victor's secret hobby". Then she had thrown an apologetic look at Ron
which did not entirely dissolve the frown on his face, but at least served to
diminish it greatly.
Harry uttered a tired sigh at the memory. Would his two friends ever manage to
confess to each other what everyone else already knew?
Anyway, Harry had tested the solution right away and that same Christmas had
applied it to his favourite picture. In Hogwarts, it had taken pride of place
above his bed, but of course, he had been forbidden to openly put it up at the
Dursleys'. Moving pictures? Only over Vernon's dead body!
Harry thought that could be arranged and remembering it just now, he felt
tempted to make at least some of his empty threats true, after all. At long
last he decided against it. Vernon would be sufficiently punished after a night
spent standing up rigidly in the kitchen, waiting for his 'freak' nephew to
come back and torture, humiliate or kill him any minute. Maybe that would be
all it took to convince Vernon Dursley to treat his nephew with the appropriate
caution and respect in the future.
Somehow, Harry doubted that, but it didn't trouble him much. He would leave
fierce revenge to people like Snape or Malfoy any day, but under the given
circumstances, it would not be a hardship for him to be just a tiny little
bit... evil towards one Vernon Dursley.
When Harry finally went to bed, he slept very well indeed.


***** Raven *****
Chapter Notes
     Chapter warnings: Torture, rape, death.
     A/N: This chapter contains a play on words that only works in German.
     I found no good way to translate it, so let me just explain what it's
     supposed to do: There's a character called RAVEN, which in German is
     RABE. I use the word as an acronym for "Retter ohne Adel, ohne
     Bedeutung und ohne Ehre", i.e. "saviour without nobility, importance
     or honour."

===============================================================================
Burn your gods and kill the king
Subjugate your suffering
Dead heart in a dead world
- Nevermore, 'Dead heart in a dead world'
===============================================================================
Harry had been reluctant to take the advice of a woman who sported bubblegum
pink hair. But Tonks had turned out to be a brilliant fashion advisor. Not only
was she more experienced at shopping for clothes – then again, who wasn't?
Barring his school uniform, Harry had never once shopped for clothes in his
entire life –, but she had also proven to have wonderful taste where Harry was
concerned. While he was still staring at the gazillion items of clothing in the
magical outlet store where she had taken him, Tonks had already chosen three
pairs of pants, five shirts and some shoes for him, all of which fit and had
the added bonus of positively highlighting his slender built and the colour of
his hair and eyes.
With a trunk full of new clothes on top of his usual school materials, Harry
was finally released from Tonks' clutches and now sat tiredly in the Hogwarts
Express. He locked the compartment door, determined to not even admit Ron and
Hermione. They would surely question him about his summer and the events at the
end of the school year. Hardly anyone knew the details of what had happened, as
was so often the case where Harry was concerned.
But he wasn't ready yet to tell his friends. Not before he had decided whether
or not to tell them about... about 'Raven'.
So he had chosen a small compartment for himself, which he now barricaded with
some choice locking spells. No one would disturb his musings. He hunkered down
beside the window, switched on his magic-resistant discman (courtesy of the
Weasley twins) and closed his eyes.
Quickly, his thoughts flew back to the night when Voldemort was vanquished, as
they so often did this summer. But it wasn't Voldemort he was thinking of. No,
it was the man he had met after the battle. At midnight, on top of the
Astronomy tower, without a soul bearing witness to the event..
===============================================================================
"What may I call you?"
"Call me Raven."
"But Sir, didn't you say that was the name that Voldemort...?"
"Yes Harry, I got this name from Voldemort, and I have learned to hate it.
'Saviour without nobility, without honour and without importance'. You should
have seen how pleased the bastard was when he realized he could form a
derogatory acronym from the terms he had assigned to me... But never mind how
much I might wish to still be the same person I once was - I am not. Voldemort
has been destroying me for decades, until I felt that nothing of myself was
left. And still he refused to let me die. Can you imagine how painful it is to
realize that even this choice is no longer yours to make? That even this last
resort has been taken from you?
"I was well acquainted with the beings that live between here and beyond.
Thanks to Voldemort's tender care, I was a regular guest in the border realms
between life and death."
Harry thought he detected a bit of self-mockery in Raven's words, but neither
his voice nor the veiled face gave any hint as to what the man was really
thinking.
"One day, I began to talk to those not-quite beings, the demons and the undead
that haunt those spheres. I realized that they were the key to changing my
situation. With their help, a miracle happened for which I had long ago stopped
hoping. I slowly regained my power and eventually defeated my tormentors.
"But it cost me dearly. Those powerful beings both dark and light, old gods and
demons, beings for which even the wizarding world does not have a name, do not
give their help freely. What Voldemort left intact, they have taken. Harry, I
wear these rags because they are all that is keeping my body together – those
and the mighty dark magic which has taken the place of my soul and is spreading
through my whole being as we speak.
"Not much is left of the man I have once been. Even at the risk that you might
think me overly dramatic, I have to say this: my clothes are like tattered
plumage, in me is a darkness blacker than the hopeless depth of winter, my
voice has been reduced to a hoarse croak and for all those who have ever been
close to me, to know me was to know death.
"Raven is my name, and for all intends and purposes, that is what I am.
"...And just so you know, there is no reason at all to be polite towards me.
None of that 'Sir' business, Harry. I do not deserve that much respect, so
please just drop it."
"But... you signed the note with 'RAB', not 'Rabe'. Why?" And just who was this
man?
"Actually, I did sign the thing as 'Rabe' without a second thought. My former
name has long since ceased to exist. That is no longer who I am. But the 'E'
wouldn't stick. It just up and vanished.
"I have thought about it since and believe I have found an explanation. As much
as I hate to say it, for it explains people's fear of the word 'Voldemort',
there is magic in names. I am without nobility here as much as I ever was, and
since I will not stick around for long, I have little meaning. And I did some
'saving'. Thus the 'A', 'B' and 'R' took hold. But what I came here to do is
honourable, so the 'E' could not be written. The strong concentration of magic
in the cave did not permit its existence.
"Still, Raven is how I think of myself. It is all that is left of me..."
The man ponderously shook his head and Harry had the fleeting impression of a
white, sightless eye amidst burned, red tissue. He shuddered. What hells had
this man seen in his life?
'Raven' seemed to guess at his thoughts.
"Imagine Voldemort would have won. What would he have done to you?"
"Killed me, I suppose."
"What makes you think that?"
"Well, for one thing, the prophesy..."
"Harry, does not the prophesy say that 'neither shall live while the other
survives'? Tell me: Can you call an existence on the brink of death and madness
'living'? What if one of you had given up and wanted to die – and the other one
had denied him? Would you say that the suicidal one was truly alive still?"
Harry pondered the theoretical possibility for a while. Then his eyes widened
in sudden realization.
"Oh...," he exclaimed softly. "You mean he wouldn't have killed me?"
"What do you think?"
Harry didn't have to think long about this. Voldemort was a sadist. If he truly
loved anything in life, then it was to see other people suffer.
No, Voldemort would not have killed him. He would have made him suffer.
A lot.
Harry shivered. He noticed the old man's eyes on himself, waiting for him to
acknowledge this truth. When he was sure that Harry understood what he was
saying, he continued.
"Now, you can imagine what I have been suffering during the last five decades."
This made no sense. Half a century? But Voldemort had been more dead than alive
for fourteen years. How could he have tortured anyone?
Raven didn't seem to notice Harry's puzzled expression, or if so, he chose to
ignore it.
"Voldemort had made it a national sport to come up with new ways of torture.
Those who managed to torture me in effective and exciting new ways rose in his
favours. There was a fierce competition among his Death Eaters, especially
those of the Inner Circle, who wanted to further their own designs by pleasing
their master with new inventions.
"Macnair was a fan of Muggle torture devices. He used hot irons, Spanish boots,
a rack, knives and needles. Malfoy figured out how to combine Cruciatus with
other curses to achieve an even uglier result. Rookwook introduced Muggle
diseases into the game. I fondly remember the time when I was infected with
leprosy, aids and the pestilence at the same time, for during those two years,
no sane person wanted to touch me. Of course, that did not prevent the more
twisted Death Eaters from putting...things...into me in order to humiliate me.
But at least I did not have to suffer their moans when, turned on by my
sufferings, they came in my mouth or my arse."
Harry sucked in a sharp breath. He had only ever heard of Muggle methods of
torture and Muggle diseases, and while he had personally experienced the
Cruciatus, it had never been for extended time periods. He could not truly
imagine what Raven had been through. Of course, the same was true for rape.
Still, it was this quite possibly lesser evil that finally drove all colour
from Harry's face and made him gasp in shock. Maybe it should have been
obvious, yet until now, he had never truly pondered what it meant if Death
Eaters attacked a village and 'assaulted their victims'.
Raven was quiet. He seemed to be reliving the horrors of his past and Harry did
not know what to do. He dreaded the man's further words, but he was also
relieved when the tense silence was finally broken.
"You know, it was considered polite to clean up after oneself. This meant that
whoever broke me had to fix me afterwards. Voldemort was quite displeased if he
had to use his considerable powers to yank me back from the brink of death for
the umpteenth time, denying me the salvation his Death Eaters had very nearly
granted. The Death Eaters were quick to learn that they should not do anything
to me they could not personally undo.
"Thus, the Inner Circle turned into some of the world's best Healers. I must
say it is a waste that all that knowledge will be lost after my death. St.
Mungo's would have a field day if they were to know all the spells and potions
that have accumulated over the years: I had cancer, aids, leukemia, lost limbs,
poisoning, all kinds of inner and outer bleeding...
"Unfortunately, my time here is drawing to an end. I have been able to convince
the beings of the in-between to help me defeat Voldemort and make an
announcement to the world..."
"What kind of announcement?"
"I appeared to the wizards and witches of the world in the sky, telling them I
had finally fulfilled my destiny. Everyone knew that I had failed before, since
Voldemort never left out a chance to put me on display at meetings and
gatherings of an official nature; naked and chained, humiliated and utterly
helpless."
Raven was still talking in a monotone, as though his words did not concern him
at all. Harry wondered whether the old man was even capable of showing, of
feeling emotions any more. Though apparently he did feel a need to tell Harry
of all he had suffered, for after a pause, he continued speaking.
"At some point, I learned to stop caring when they ripped off my fingers, or
ears; burned them, or otherwise destroyed them. Of course, I still felt their
torture every waking minute; there is no getting used to such excruciating
pain. Only my tongue was safe, Voldemort enjoyed my screams too much. Anything
else, though... And yet my torturers always knew how to reverse the damage. I
could count on them to give me back what they had taken. The debilitating panic
that gripped me during the first few years whenever they ...took away... some
part of me, the fear of never getting it back, of being crippled for life,
slowly faded. Now, I merely gritted my teeth (unless I had lost them in some
way just previously) against the pain and nausea and waited for my arm, my leg,
whatever they had taken, to be returned.
"Then one day it wasn't.
"At first, I thought it a new kind of torture to make me live for a few days
without my arm; thought that the Death Eaters had discovered a way to reattach
limbs even after many days have passed. But I had been wrong. Voldemort must
have noticed my growing apathy and decided that I would not get this arm back.
"Of course, I have seen it many times afterwards; how could they possibly have
passed up such a wonderful torture device? But I have remained one-armed ever
since. Apparently, after more than ten years of captivity, my possession of a
fully functioning body was no longer deemed amusing or necessary.
"Once again, I was scared beyond reason when they threatened to take away my
legs, my genitals, my nose... Voldemort was radiating satisfaction.
"But even this, even the horror inherent in the loss of any body part,
eventually faded into numb acceptance. I lost my right hand and left leg; the
latter was eventually replaced by a magical prosthesis from the knee down, so I
would not overbalance when on all fours. After that, I once again drifted off
into apathy. Pain was pain, and I had long since given up all hopes of ever
being free again. My body was not my own. Which difference did it make whether
it was fully intact?
"After another twenty years had gone by, my appearance ceased to matter to
Voldemort much as my physical integrity had. More and more often, he failed to
heal the scars he loved to inflict with fire, knives and vicious beatings. His
Death Eaters observed their master as closely as ever and did not fail to
follow his example. The last few years of my captivity were a constant downward
spiral. I suppose that after close to fifty years, Voldemort simply got bored
with his favourite toy. Little by little, my body fell apart, deteriorating
towards the point where even my last cell would soon crumble and come to dust.
"And still, Voldemort refused to let me die.
"Probably he would have kept me alive even when nothing but my brain was left.
But that, we will never find out now.
"I would not have told you all of this, were it not necessary for you to
understand why I eventually considered nothing to be sacred any more, not even
my own soul. For truly, what worth is there in a soul that has both suffered
and caused such shame?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, Voldemort would never have been satisfied with merely torturing my body.
My mind had to be made to suffer just as strongly. He has broken me, more
thoroughly than I ever thought possible. There have been days when I was simply
put into my cell and left there, and it was torture. After being tortured for
so long, even the absence of the torturers was painful, for I had gotten used
to and took comfort in the knowledge that there was a certain routine to my
pain. Take away that routine and all that is left is the pain. Even now that I
am for all intends and purposes bodiless, I miss the pain that used to anchor
me to reality. I am at last truly homeless, adrift, and now that I have
accomplished my task, I will soon leave this world, as well.
"But I digress. You want to know my shame?"
'This world'? What is he saying? Harry's train of thoughtran into a solid brick
wall atRaven's next words and all that was left was shock and horror.
"I have killed. I have tortured, maimed and raped."
Was this true? Harry numbly listened to Raven's monologue, not knowing himself
why it was so important to him, but hoping desperately that the man would take
back those words.
"Voldemort had always made the hunt for rebel wizards his top priority. Every
time an Auror or a member of the Order of the Phoenix was captured whom I knew
personally -"
First the prophesy and now the Order? Was there any secret Raven didnot know
about? Who was this man?!
"- those people were brought to me. I had to kill them in whichever way
Voldemort dictated.
"My first victim was my best friend. Voldemort commanded me to cut out his
heart with a knife.
"I refused.
"I never refused again. Not because my heart was cut out instead; I knew they
would put it back in time, and the pain was no worse than the previous day when
I had been made to eat my own thumb.
"Nay, it was the consequences for my friend that convinced me to never refuse
the chance to kill a friend with my own hands again.
"They took him. I was sure they would kill him now. But then I saw him again, a
month later. Broken, soiled, closer to death than life – in short, he looked
just like me. They raped him in front of me. And through it all, he looked at
me, with eyes that seemed to ask why I hadn't killed him. The question remained
unuttered for he had already lost all capability of speech. Two months later I
was given the same choice once again. I rammed the knife into his chest as hard
as I could. There was no hesitation. Thus died my best friend."
Harry's eyes swam with unshed tears. What this man had suffered! If he imagined
having to kill Ron with a knife... His eyes broke and the tears flowed freely.
"You have tears..."
For the first time, the man's voice did not sound apathetic; if forced to
describe the sound, Harry would have called it awestruck, reverent.
"It feels like forever since I forgot how to cry..." Then he picked up his sad
tale again.
"My first and best friend was soon followed by others: former classmates,
teachers, Aurors, members of the Order... I killed them all, each time a
nastier death. They looked at me, hurt and reproachful. They did not know what
would happen if I refused to kill them. And I never told them. Why should I? It
was enough that I knew how much they would have suffered had I refused. Maybe
for years. After the experience with R... - with my best friend, I never
challenged my luck again. Not at their expense. Even when the 'executions'
became public, so the world could see their prophesied saviour murdering his
friends and acquaintances in cold blood, I just kept going. I did not have the
strength to once again see a friend suffer so much, only to give the world hope
with my refusal. Who needed hope when all was lost?
"I have to thank the Death Eaters' love of bragging, for without their tales of
the tortures they inflicted on me, no one would have found out that I had no
choice in what I did. Only because of those rumours was it possible that people
believed me when I announced to them that Voldemort was finally dead for good.
When I appeared to the wizards of Britain and the other countries unto which
Voldemort had extended his reign, which included big parts of Europe and Asia,
they knew that something had changed.
"Voldemort does not have a sense of humour. He would not have given me clothes
and let me announce to the world that they were free of him just for fun.
"And so they believed me. I only stayed long enough to make sure that the
world's wizards truly were courageous enough to turn against the ruling Death
Eaters, hunt them down one by one and make an end to the decades of despotism
and fear. They fulfilled my expectations and more. After only a few hours, more
than half of Voldemort's followers had died. The rest of them were fleeing in
mindless panic, for Voldemort's protective wards had fallen and they were
exposed to the people's wrath for the first time.
"I could not stay to watch the hunt until its very end. The Shadows were urging
me to leave that world behind and go on to the second part of our trade."
"There was more?" Harry had stopped trying to figure out who the other man was.
Something was telling him that maybe he really didn't want to know. Instead, he
focussed completely on the man's tale.
"Well, I could expect good service for what I had to offer. After all, I
promised those beings my past and my future, my knowledge, my power and... my
soul."
"WHAT?!"
"I sold my soul. I have told you so before."
"Well yes, but... you meant that literally ?!?"
"I did. You know, it is not a great loss, really. Once they have taken me
apart, nothing, absolutely nothing will remain of me. I will simply fade. I
have been dreaming of this for so long..."
For the second time tonight, there was a hint of emotions in Raven's voice. But
the moment was over so fast that Harry later wondered whether he had not simply
imagined the longing in the man's tone. Already, Raven was speaking again.
"Voldemort's death was one of my conditions. But I had another. During my time
in the realms between here and beyond, I found out that there is more than one
world, more than one existence. Take Hermione, for example."
"How do you know Hermione?!"
"That is of no consequence. The important fact is that during third year,
Hermione was given a time-turner. I am sure you remember, after all, this is
how you saved your godfather."
The man was becoming eerier by the minute. Harry hung on to his words and tried
to grasp what the other was telling him. Parallel universes? All right – after
what else the man had told him tonight, this was not the most shocking
revelation, for sure.
"Every time you use a time-turner, a new world is created. In the world where
you were born, you might have died already; or maybe Voldemort never returned.
For possibly someone grabbed a time-turner and undid what happened that night
nearly seventeen years ago in Godric's Hollow. Still, this reality remains the
same; only for that one person who went back in time, the future has changed.
That person now lives in a world created by their reshaping of the past."
He paused and gave Harry time to consider the concept.
"You mean this world is hundreds of worlds away from my original... reality?"
"Not quite. You see, every hour that Hermione went back changed her options,
her knowledge, her path into the future. But should it later turn out that this
hour makes no difference at all in her personal development and in the greater
scheme of things, then it has been known for related worlds to reunite. Still,
in principle, you are correct: Each time Hermione turned her hourglass, a new
reality came into being. You exist in both of them."
Harry had the mental image of a snow globe which contained Hogwarts; on the
grass in front of the castle lay another snow globe which contained Hogwarts;
and in front of the castle... But no, Raven had said that the entire world was
changed by each journey into the past. Again, an image formed in Harry's mind.
This time, it showed his immediate surroundings, but the edges of all things
were fuzzy, as though one reality was overlaid by another, and another. Four
lines, five, six, some on top of each other, some separated by several
meters... Still the image was deficient.
The idea of parallel universes was hard to grasp, harder still since it was
more than just theory if Raven was truly a traveller between the worlds as he
had said. But if this were true, then everything else he had said might also be
true...
Harry felt sick.
Raven decided to make an end to his misery. "Best not to think about it too
much. After all, it doesn't really concern you what goes on in other worlds.
Nobody can cross the borders between the universes."
"Except for you."
Raven looked a lot more serious now. Harry didn't know how he could tell, what
with the hood and veil, but the feeling he got from the man was tense and
focussed. "I am like everyone else, I cannot cross the borders under my own
power. You must understand that once I realized I could finally defeat
Voldemort, I had already lost everyone I had ever wanted to protect and my
world had been ruined by war and oppression. I know people will be able to
rebuild, and yet... When I heard of the parallel realities, I had that burning
desire to make sure that there was one, at least ONE, where Voldemort fell at
the point where he defeated me.
"This is why I am here. With the help of those beings to whom I have sold my
soul, I have collected the Horcruxes and destroyed them one after the other. I
have watched the Death Eaters. I was there during the encounter on top of this
very tower. That was the hour when I had been defeated. Dumbledore had fallen
and it was draining the school's wards. They grew weaker every day. One week
later, it was all over. I was captured, the Ministry destroyed and Hogwarts
firmly in the hands of the Death Eaters. It was Dumbledore's death that started
it all, and Dumbledore's death was what I now chose to prevent.
"It was me who caused Voldemort to blow caution to the wind today and make a
personal appearance when his plans seemed to fail. Only my interference kept
this world from suffering the same fate as mine did.
"And now, it's up to you, Harry."
Raven's cloak seemed to slowly pulsate with dark light. Shadows were flickering
around him. Darkness came from inside him and at the same time wrapped itself
around him from without.
"Now, it is up to you to enjoy life and to do all the things I never could. Be
a child. Be a man. Be your own master. Be free. Live, Harry Potter."
Harry gulped.
"Who are you?"
Raven silently looked at him for a long time. Then he asked: "Do you really
want me to tell you? I know you have already guessed the truth, but you still
have the option to tell yourself it is not so. Do you really want me to say it
out loud and make it so much more real?"
Harry swallowed painfully once more. His throat seemed too dry to speak. But he
pushed away his doubts and answered with a firm "Yes!"
"I was you, Harry. A long time ago, I was Harry Potter."
===============================================================================
Harry bent forward and slowly drew the veil from the man's face. Raven put up
no resistance. Harry gently pushed back the hood. The cloak opened and slid off
the man's shoulders. Raven simply sat and gave Harry time to look at him.
Sightless white eyes stared at Harry out of a cratered face riddled by
countless scars and festering wounds. Instead of a nose, there was merely a
hole through which Harry could see dark, slowly turning mist. The man had no
ears or hair. The right arm was missing, in its place there was the same dark
mist that also 'replaced' the man's nose.
Raven had not lied when he said that only the dark powers of the old Gods and
demons were holding his body together: large parts seemed to be missing, dark
mist was all that kept the wounds closed and gave shape to the mangled body.
Yet on Raven's forehead, amidst countless burns and other testaments to the
decades of his captivity, one fine white line stood out: a thin, lightening-
bolt shaped scar.
"You are... me?"
"Yes, Harry. If Voldemort had won, fifty years from now you would be just like
me."
Harry turned around and vomited.
===============================================================================
It took a long time for Harry to calm down, but eventually, he managed.
"I understand that you cannot deal with this as you are now. I will grant you a
few weeks to get used to the idea." Raven murmured a quiet spell and Harry felt
his angst and confusion dwindle.
"What did you do?"
"I made sure that you won't break under the weight of this new knowledge. This
spell will protect you. Everything I have told you today, as well as whatever
else I might choose to tell you, is in your head and if you absolutely want to,
you can access that knowledge. However, unless you purposely single it out, the
larger part of this conversation will remain hidden to your conscious thought.
Little by little, you will 'remember' things during the coming weeks, so you
have a chance to slowly get used to it all. It must have been quite a shock to
hear it all at once, but I just don't have the time, I needed to tell you fast.
This way, it will not damage your psyche too badly. You will learn how to deal
with all the evil I have told you about this night."
"Thank you," Harry said a bit uncertainly. Raven nodded. Then he reached behind
his head and pulled his hood back up. Harry made no comment – he was relieved
not to have to look into this face any longer. A face, so similar to his own,
and yet so cruelly changed. Yes, he had recognized his own features amidst the
scarred tissue that had once formed a human face. It wasn't just the scar; it
was the form of his cheekbones (as far as that could still be determined,
anyway), of his eyes (even though they were little more than lifeless white
marbles)... all things considered, it was a feeling rather than any tangible
feature. A feeling that told him with absolute certainly what his eyes could
merely guess: That this man was indeed himself - Harry Potter, as he would look
at the age of seventy had Voldemort not fallen this very day.
Suddenly, Harry understood why the Dark Lord had to die such an unusually cruel
death. He had been shocked by Raven's actions at the time, but he could no
longer blame him for them. Rather, he felt a shameful wish that Voldemort had
suffered even more.
Raven once again seemed to have guessed his thoughts.
"Harry, I've had my revenge. I was merciful towards your Voldemort, because
mine already... but it is unnecessary to speak of that."
Harry was trembling as he considered that his Voldemort's death had been the
merciful variant. What might the shadow beings have done to the other one? A
hard quality to Raven's voice however convinced Harry to heed the man's wishes
and inquire no further.
"Voldemort is dead and gone. The wizarding world now has the obligation to make
sure that never again a sick dictator like him can rise to power. It also has
the task to catch and properly punish the remaining Death Eaters. After
Voldemort's demise, they should be week and easy to destroy. YOUR task,
however, will be to leave behind all thoughts of revenge and for once really
enjoy life.
"You know, I've changed your world for very selfish reasons. I wanted there to
be a...a Me...who has a chance to be happy."
Harry was crying again. A steady stream of tears sprung from the corners of his
eyes, pearled down his cheeks and silently dripped onto his robes.
"Do not be sad. Do not burden yourself with vengeance and hatred. Forgive those
who are deserving of your forgiveness, and just forget the others. It is not
your place to turn into a soulless spectre of revenge. I have suffered enough
for two people; now, you must be happy enough for the both of us."
Harry sobbed. It took him a while to utter a confused question: "But... why
now? Why not change my life earlier? Then I would have been happy for so much
longer-" He stopped himself hastily when he realized his question sounded like
the accusation of a petulant child. He had really only been curious. Raven,
however, didn't even seem to notice the reproachful wording of the question. Or
maybe he was simply used to blaming himself for all that was wrong in the
world. At least that's what it had sounded like when he had told Harry how he
had killed his best friend – Ron! , Harry realized with horror.
"I would have intervened sooner, had it been possible. But it seems that my
shredded soul was not valuable enough for that. I could not change history from
the point of Voldemort's attack on your parents. But at least I could persuade
the daemons to bring me to the latest possible point in time where you still
had a chance at happiness. I was not stupid enough to further haggle with them.
The next larger deal would probably have involved not just my soul, but yours,
as well."
Both Harry and Raven shuddered.
Maybe Harry was mistaken, but it seemed to him that the other man was showing
more and more emotions. The dark light he had noticed earlier was pulsing more
strongly now and seemed to fill out the entire space below the cloak. If Harry
were to lift the hood again, would he see the horribly mutilated face again –
or just darkness?
Raven was waning. Slowly, but surely, he was fading away and soon he would have
left not only his own, but also this world behind for good.
Suddenly Harry remembered something his older self had said a while back.
"Raven, could you teach me the Healing spells you have...learned?"
Raven hesitated. "Harry, those spells will only be effective together with the
correct wand motions. What is more, there are different cures for the different
stadiums of a disease or injury. If I wanted you to get any use out of my
healing memories, I would also have to give you the memories of the precise
injuries and exactly how they had been caused. There are too many to store them
in a Pensieve. There's a spell... I could implant all those memories in your
brain. But this would mean that you would remember all the pain I have suffered
– as thought it were your own."
Harry looked at him in dismay.
"You lost hold of your dinner just because of my words. I can imagine what
actually remembering the events would do to you. It is my utmost priority to
see you happy. Making you deal with my memories is rather opposed to this aim.
Thus, my answer must be No."
Harry felt anger rise within him. He wished he hadn't shown such weakness
earlier. How could he live in happy innocence when he knew all around him
people were dying of diseases he could have known how to cure? How could Raven
demand that he be so egoistic?!
Of course, he knew where the man was coming from. Raven had sold his soul to
see Harry happy. How could he deny him this wish? After all, Raven had helped
him defeat Voldemort. Without his help, Harry would soon be... Best not think
of it.
But no, this was exactly the attitude that had led to his current dilemma. His
inability to deal with Raven's past was why Raven had declined to share his
memories with Harry. But was Harry really too weak to handle Raven's
experiences?
After all, he had not had an easy life himself. One trial had followed the
other, yet he had never given up. Whatever it was that Raven's memories held in
store for him, he was sure that with the help of Raven's earlier protective
spell, he would be able to handle it. Maybe he could do it in a way that Raven
didn't notice. Then the man would not be disappointed.
"Legilimens," Harry whispered.
Raven's hood fell back as he jumped up with a scream and grasped Harry's
shoulder. "HARRY! What have you done?!" He shook Harry harshly, then he broke
down and sobbed.
Harry did not answer.
He was caught in the whirlwind of memories he had encountered in Raven's head.
Raven had been totally unprepared. Harry had run straight into the space which,
in other people's heads, was reserved for their innermost wishes and fears,
their most secret desires, hopes and pains.
Not here. Where Snape tended to protect even his most inconsequential thoughts
with layers upon layers of walls and defences, all Harry found in Raven's head
were debris and decay. Even had he tried to defend his mind, Harry was positive
that the man would not have been able to. For the first time, Harry understood
what it meant to break a man's spirit. Physical rape had not been the worst
that had happened to this older Harry, not by a long shot. They had raped his
innermost, hidden self, had torn it open so thoroughly that it now lay open and
bleeding, exposed to the world with no protection whatsoever.
Harry had no time to ponder this tragedy for long, however.
His whole sense of self was suddenly swept away by the pictures of torture,
humiliation and inhuman suffering, a sense of helplessness and pain like he had
not known even in his worst visions and nightmares. It filled him until he was
sure he would explode and was only one step away from going utterly and
irrecoverably insane. Then finally Raven's protective spell subdued the raging
onslaught of memories and sent Harry into blissful darkness.
===============================================================================
"Harry?...Harry!"
The voice sounded frightened and agitated.
Harry struggled to open his eyes and raise himself up on his elbows. The world
turned around him and with a dull 'Thud!' he fell back onto the hard stone
floor.
Stone floor?
Slowly, his memory returned. The voice guiding him in his battle against
Voldemort. The spell it had whispered in his ear. Voldemort's horrible end. The
secret meeting on the Astronomy Tower at midnight. Raven, telling him in a
frightening monotone about the hell that had been his 'life' for more than
fifty years.
Raven – Harry Potter.
Then their fight over the healing spells and finally...
"Oh my God! I am so sorry!!! Please, you have to believe me! I did not know
that... Well alright, so maybe I should have known that your mind would be
fairly defenceless, but, I really didn't want all of your thoughts, your fear
and... oh God... I only wanted to look for the healing spells and make a quick
retreat. I didn't... I had.... I am sorry."
The last was said in little more than a whisper.
Silence.
Slowly, Harry raised his head. Raven was kneeling in front of him, the hood
lying around his shoulders, veil slipped out of place and a strange expression
covering the scarred face.
"Harry... Do you feel guilty now?"
"How can you ask that?! Of course I do!"
"Do you think you will be able to use or pass on the knowledge you have taken
from me?"
"Erm... well, yes. Your spell is currently keeping it from me, but I am sure
that in a year or so, I will have access to it... Why do you ask?"
"If there was a way for you to undo this, would you want to?"
Harry felt pole-axed. What was Raven telling him? Could he relieve Harry of his
horrible knowledge? Would he do it? Would Harry want him to? What if he lost
the knowledge, yet Raven still remembered his betrayal? Wouldn't that be even
worse? He could not do that! Impossible!
"I would love to take back the attack on your unprotected mind. It was uncalled
for and rude. The knowledge, however, I want to keep," he mumbled
uncomfortably.
Raven seemed surprised. Or at least, that was the impression Harry got. The
man's features were as unreadable as ever, black mist swirled in ominous curls
around him, yet Harry had the strong feeling that Raven was increasingly
allowing him to see through the outer appearance.
"You are not sorry to have my life in your head?"
"No... it is also my life. It is the life I would have had if you hadn't saved
me from that fate. I'll be forever grateful to you for this. No matter what you
say, you are a true saviour. You do have meaning. You have honour. And really,
who needs nobility anyway?
"You know what? I won't call you Raven any longer. Now that I know who you
really are, have seen how your whole terrible life has passed, I cannot in good
conscience call you Raven any more. Between the two of us, you are the true
hero. You are a role-model for me -"
"Why?!"
"You never gave up on the people of your world, even though there was no one
left you knew or cared about. You could have simply begged deliverance from the
shadows, yet you chose to destroy Voldemort and set the people of both your
world and mine onto the right path before you will allow yourself to fade. I
know now what you did. You have mourned every friend you lost even when you had
no tears left to cry. You have forced yourself to cruelly kill Hermione, Malf-
I mean Draco, Neville, and so many others, only to spare them a much more
terrible death. And you did that despite the feeling of murdering a part of
yourself every time. You even sometimes distracted the Death Eaters from their
other victims, lessening their pains through your own. You can tell me about
your sins all you want, but I know that for me, you are a hero. You are so
strong... You are how I want to be. You are no black raven. You are still Harry
Potter."
Raven seemed to slump down at Harry's words. When Harry finished speaking, the
old man was sitting with his cloak wrinkled around his cowering form on the
stones of the tower, his thin body racked by heart-rendering sobs. "Thank
you...thank you...!"
"For what?" Harry asked, bewildered.
Raven slowly pulled himself back together. His white eyes seemed to stare at
Harry when he spoke. "Harry. I have suffered alone for fifty years. I have
always reproached myself for not being stronger. For failing. I blamed myself
for every death, every injury, every loss that Voldemort caused. For it was I
who should have stopped him. At some point, I forbid myself to have feelings,
for I was not worthy... You are the first person to ever tell me that I did the
right things. I feel like you have vicariously forgiven me for all the people I
have disappointed. I...maybe all this is nonsense, but I... Thank you for
accepting me. Thank you for your kind words. They have set me free. I thought I
no longer possessed feelings, but look! Here they are... No longer am I aware
only of pain. There is hope, and sadness, and even... what is this feeling? For
so long, I have not... what...?"
Harry gave the other man a puzzled glance. What was going on with him?
"I believe you did more than just take when you were in my head, Harry. You
have also given me some of your memories. My memories. I had forgotten all
about that, it was so long ago... But it is all coming back now, like it was
only yesterday. My friends... my Hedwig..." Tears rolled down the older Harry's
cheeks. It looked grotesque, this bloody liquid sliding down a cratered ruin of
a face. And yet the sight gladdened Harry, for it was proof that even this man,
who had thought his heart lost so many years ago, still had feelings. Harry
drew hope and courage from the sight. It showed him that there could never be
only evil in the world. Where there is shadow, there is also light...
"Harry," the older man interrupted his thoughts, "do you remember Ron's face
when he got his festive robes? And how Moody turned Draco into a ferret?
That... that was..."
And suddenly he was laughing.
It was a liberating, contagious laughter and Harry felt himself drawn in. Only
too well did he remember Ron's utter shock; it really had looked funny. "And
Snape with the vulture hat," he added. The other man laughed even louder, then
he snorted: "Umbitch on the twins' last day of school!"
Harry giggled madly and provided yet another happy memory: "Lucius Malfoy, when
I freed Dobby."
Both men laughed.
It was a really strange dialogue, for both felt like they were talking with
themselves. This time, the conversation was about things they had both
experienced. It was a bonding experience like none other and when they finally
calmed down a long time later, all accusations and sorrow were forgotten.
Harry first spoke again. "I am happy that you are still able to laugh."
"Same here. With my memories, you can easily lose your laughter."
"I can handle it. And I have your spell to help me."
"I believe you. Besides, you have friends. And teachers. And soon, maybe
even... but that, you'll have to see for yourself." The lip- and nearly
toothless mouth unbelievably curled into a smile.
"Well, what?" Harry bemusedly asked.
"I'm talking about love, Mister Genius!"
"Love?"
"Yes. You know, that thing where two people like each other very very much
and...I'm sure you've heard of it."
"Idiot!" Harry playfully swatted his older self. Immediately, he winced
guiltily. "I am so sorry! That must have hurt, what with your skin totally
unprotected and..."
"Bah, drop it," the older man waved his worries aside,"anything that hurts less
than a red hot iron will have a hard time impressing my nerves, unless
Voldemort or one of his more skilled Death Eaters is manipulating them. Those
devils should all be dead in my world by now, and well on their way to Azkaban
in yours, so chances are that I won't ever feel pain again – more than what I
have been feeling constantly over the last few decades, that is...Anyway, don't
worry about it. I will be fading soon."
This time, Harry was sure there was longing in the voice of his doppelgänger.
"But back to our previous topic. Love. I may have given you the chance at
happiness, but whether you use it - that will be up to you. I fear it might not
be easy for you."
"What? Why?"
"I don't want to tell you too much. Where would be the fun in that?"
"Hey!" Harry mock-complained with a laugh.
'Raven' Harry grinned. "I'll only tell you this. I was surprised that the
deaths which hurt me most were not those of the people I had previously thought
to be the most important in my life. I guess such things are always much
clearer in hindsight..."
"What are you saying?"
"I am trying to tell you that love and other emotions do not always grow
strongest where we would have them. You need to keep an open mind, do you hear
me? Or you might lose the chance at something incredibly precious..."
"Won't you say any more about this?"
"No. This is yours to find out."
Harry playfully rolled his eyes as though in despair. The other Harry laughed.
Now that he was openly showing emotions, he felt even more...familiar... to
Harry. It was nearly like having a twin brother. Only this twin was over fifty
years older and looked barely human any more. But why nit-pick such minor
issues?
"Harry... Can't you stay?"
A serious look. "No, Harry. I died more than fifty years ago and have been
suspended in limbo all that time, waiting for Death to finally take me home.
Now, I am given the unique chance to completely fade from this plane of
existence. No bad memories, no guilt, no pain... It is better than any
description of heaven I have ever heard. - Hey, don't be sad. You have to be
happy for the both of us, remember?"
Harry looked at him through his tears. "You are right." A hesitant smile played
with the corners of his mouth. "After all, the love of my life is waiting for
me somewhere out there, right?"
"That's the spirit!"
For some minutes, they simply stood and looked at each other. Then the older
Harry calmly nodded at his personified past and future. Harry realized that
'Raven' had unwittingly cheated the shadows: he had committed his soul into
their hands, and yet a part of him would live on in Harry. A much larger part
even than he had originally intended.
"Farewell."
The pulsing darkness around the older Harry was steadily increasing. Soon, his
face and torso seemed to be radiating black light from within.
"Farewell," Harry answered. "You will be remembered."
Darkness engulfed the man who had once been Harry Potter. Then the fog seemed
to implode. A small, black bubble seemed to be suspended in mid-air in front of
Harry. Harry reached for it, when suddenly an image appeared before him. It was
transparent like a projection above a Pensieve, but if felt a lot more real.
The mist formed the image of Raven as he had been before his captivity.
Harry's image.
Harry had the eerie feeling of standing in front of a mirror. Yet he was sure
his features had never born such a melancholic and... old, awe-inspiring
expression.
After all, he could not see his own expression this very moment.
Suddenly, all sadness was gone from the eyes of his shiny mirror image. "Thank
you, for everything," he heard the voice of his other Self in his head one last
time. "Thank you for listening... for understanding... and for your will to
live. I will leave you now, but I am sure you will do well. Be happy!"
"I will."
The image faded and with it vanished the dark sphere.
Harry was left alone on the tower top. He leaned against the railing for a long
time, gazing out into the silent night.

***** Detention *****
Chapter Notes
     A/N: Sorry that this took me so long! I just wanted to quickly go
     over it once again and proof-read it before posting... and then I
     ended up lacking the energy to do anything more than read Winter
     Soldier fanfics and ignore RL as much as I could. ; )
     WARNING: All the warnings apply to this chapter. Please especially
     heed the ones about rape, torture, painful naivety and, uh, somewhat
     unfulfilling sex... *runs off to hide*
===============================================================================
 
Harry was thinking dark thoughts on his way down to the dungeons. He had
promised Raven to have fun, and now what had he done? Landed himself in
detention with Snape. And together with Malfoy, no less! Could he be doing
anything that was lessfun?
He snorted.
Even now, he should be busy finding out all those little things in life that he
had been denied until now: all about levity, love and sex. Sex especially. Love
would come in good time – or so he hoped -, but sex? He saw no reason to wait
any longer on that front. Everyone else had been busy gathering their first
hesitant, fumbling experiences around him for some time, so why shouldn't he
indulge, as well? After all, there was no Dark Lord out there to kill anyone
involved with Harry Potter any longer. He was free to really start enjoying
life to the fullest.
But no. This evening would be spent in the company of the two men who hated him
more than anyone else, with the possible exception of his dearly be-hated
relatives. The fact that Malfoy and Snape were men would not even have deterred
him much, he thought idly, but... Sex with Malfoy? Or Snape?
Harry gave a mock-shudder and laughed about his own ridiculous thoughts. Just
where did all that vivid imagination stem from?
Twenty minutes later, all thoughts of fantasies and fun were forced from his
mind as he stirred his cauldron in fevered concentration while trying to make
sense of Snape's directions on the correct brewing of an aphrodisiac.
"...and it is important not to add too much Dragon spice lest the target person
overexert themselves. There have been tales of people who died because they
were unable to stop... Did you understand that, Potter?" he sniped. Harry
nodded as he carefully measured the correct amount of the spice and dropped it
into his cauldron.
"Really now? I bet you, Potter, know exactly of what I am speaking, do you not?
The famous Boy Who Lived must have a true stream of admirers come knocking at
his door night after night," Snape guessed with a grin that was oddly
reminiscent of a leer.
Looks like I'm not the only one with an over-active imagination around here,
Harry thought. He silently continued stirring as he wondered how Snape spent
his evenings. Maybe the teacher had to rely on his own fantasies just as
regularly as Harry did... Ugh, he really could have done without that mental
image!
...Or could he? On further thought, Harry decided that there were worse things
to think about than Snape. The man must be hiding a lean and exquisite body
under those high-necked robes if the slender fingers were any indication. Harry
could only imagine what fingers like these were capable of doing.
Harry felt his cheeks colouring and decided that this was neither the time nor
theplace to be pondering Snape's fingers. Focus on the potion, he firmly told
himself. So, what was next? He hazarded an inquiring glance at Malfoy's
ingredients. But... where was Malfoy?
A breathy whisper against his neck answered that question only a moment later.
"Your cheeks turn red at the mere mention of your lovers? Nights at Gryffindor
tower must be hot indeed, Potter!"
Harry gulped. Malfoy was so close... too close! When had he gotten over here
anyway? Harry had been so intensely focussed on Snape's words who had explained
about the potion and...
"Malfoy! What do you think you're doing?!" Harry furiously turned around.
Malfoy had dared to touch his ass! Harry drew himself up to yell at Malfoy,
shower him with each and every foul insult he had ever heard, but one look at
Malfoy's face shut him up. The other boy had red cheeks and a feverish gleam in
his eyes. His breath came in heavy pants and his hands were already making
another go at Harry's behind.
"Malfoy! Stop that, it isn't funny!" Harry nervously tried to withdraw and
bumped into his desk.
"You are right for once, Potter. This is indeed not just for fun, but rather
serious."
Harry stared at the Slytherin. What was Malfoy playing at? Was this yet another
plan to hurt and humiliate him? What was he trying to get out of it?
Harry's insecure gaze flickered towards Snape. The teacher did not seem
inclined to stop the boys in their little... situation. Rather, he was
reclining in his chair, eyes half-lidded and hands stapled on his knees.
Harry turned back to face Draco, who had used Harry's moment of inattention to
draw his wand. Before Harry knew what was happening, he found himself tied
hands and feet onto a nearby table, with Draco Malfoy bent over his supine form
and slowly beginning to unbutton his shirt.
Harry gasped. "Malfoy, what the fuck did you take? Or did the potion fumes get
to you?"
"None of that. I am merely granting myself a long-harboured wish..."
"You're crazy! You've lost it, Malfoy! I don't know what's up with Snape today,
but once he realizes what you're doing to me, he'll have your ass!"
Harry was baffled by the smile his words evoked on Malfoy's face. Not deterred
in the least, Malfoy stripped Harry of his robe to get better access to the
shirt. "I know what's up with Snape, and he will not 'have my ass' – he already
had that last night. No, Harry" - the way Malfoy said his first name sent
shivers running down Harry's spine – "tonight, it won't be my arse on display,
but yours!"
With these words, Malfoy opened Harry's last shirt buttons and happily took in
the skin his actions had laid bare. He seemed to like what he saw, for he
licked his lips as though in anticipation.
"Professor Snape," Harry called out in distress, "don't you think it might be
time for you to step in?"
The professor slowly stood up and made his way over to them. He exchanged a
look with Malfoy and the younger man retreated slightly to grant him access to
the table. Then Professor Snape was looming over Harry.
"Perhaps you are right, Mister Potter, this might be a good time for me to
start participating in this little game. After all, this was as much my idea as
it was Draco's..." With these words, the professor stripped an utterly shocked
Harry of his shoes and socks with a single flick of his wand.
"Professor?!" Harry croaked. "You've got to be kidding me!"
Draco Malfoy wanting to humiliate Harry was one thing, but Snape molesting a
student? Harry began seriously doubting his own mind. Maybe he was
hallucinating?
The hand that suddenly appeared between his legs and roughly gripped him,
however, felt very real indeed.
Harry gave a startled yelp. No one had ever touched him there!
Right now, it would have been quite understandable were Harry terrified to the
point of fainting, or maybe disgusted and ready to have the earth swallow him
to hide his embarrassment. He was confused when he noticed that this was not
the case. When he realized that these two men were indeed serious about their
plans for him, all he felt was feverish excitement and burning curiosity.
He rose up as far as his bonds permitted and gasped when he saw that the hand
between his legs belonged to none other than his hated Potions teacher.
Meanwhile, Malfoy had stepped behind the professor and began disrobing the man.
Harry's eyes bulged in disbelief, Malfoy's earlier comments having passed him
by completely. Could this mean...?
He knew Snape was always giving Malfoy preferred treatment in class. Could this
be the reason for it? Were these two... an item?
Snape's next words left little doubt about his conclusions in Harry's mind.
"Draco, do you think it wise to make him privy to our relationship?"
"Why not?"came the breathy answer. "We will have to erase his memory after the
deed either way, so what does it matter?"
So that was their plan. Get him into detention for some minor offence, use him
for their pleasure, then turn him out with no memories of the incident and go
on as though nothing happened? Bloody Slytherins!
He was just about to give voice to what exactly he thought about that idea when
Malfoy drew Snape into a long, deep kiss. Harry's breath hitched.
Merlin, that's hot!
No. What was he thinking? This was not 'hot', it was bloody Malfoy and Snape!
His enemies! Two men! Why would he ever call such a thing 'hot', even in his
mind?
Suddenly, Raven's words echoed through his thoughts.
"I remember that the deaths that hurt me the most were not those of the ones I
had thought to be the most important people in my life, but of someone quite
different. I suppose such things are always much clearer in hindsight."
"What are you saying?"
"I am trying to tell you that love and other emotions do not always grow
strongest where we would have them. You need to keep an open mind, do you hear
me? Or you might lose the chance at something incredibly precious..."
Hum. Could Raven have been talking about something like this? He surely had
never been expecting Snape and Malfoy to have any feelings besides disgust and
hatred for him, and be it mere lust. Nor would he have believed himself capable
of ever seeing them in a positive light.
His own body, though, was speaking a different language today. When he saw
those two men kiss, it reacted. A tension built in his lower body that only
grew stronger as the kiss lengthened and became near unbearable as he watched
the men's hands roam over their partner's body when they deepened the kiss.
There was no denying the fact that Snape and Malfoy were indeed hot.
When the two men broke for air, Malfoy glanced at his still tightly bound
victim. A startled "Oh!" betrayed his surprise at what he saw. He stepped
closer to Harry and thoroughly scrutinised his bound form. "Severus, do you see
what I am seeing?"
Snape stepped beside Malfoy and also paid Harry's half-stripped body close
attention. His lewd gaze drove blood into Harry's cheeks.
"I believe we are seeing the same thing, Draco, and it pleases me," he stated
with obvious amusement.
Harry tried to follow the two men's gazes and was utterly ashamed to realize
that they rested in his crotch, where the material of his pants was by now
stretched rather painfully taught.
"Standing straight at attention," Malfoy said with awe. With a hopeful voice he
asked Snape "Do you think...?"
Snape focussed on Harry's face with a calculating gaze. "Harry," he now
addressed him by his first name. The effect it had on the trapped boy was
immediate and obvious. An excited shiver ran down his spine and made his limbs
tremble. Neither Snape nor Malfoy failed to notice. "What do you think when you
see us kiss?"
Harry didn't have to think long about that one. "I think I'd like to see more
than just a kiss."
The reactions that statement got him far exceeded his wildest dreams. Malfoy
hissed like a scalded cat while Snape truly lost his cold smile for a moment
and just stared at him in disbelief. Had he not been limited by the bonds,
Harry would have curled up and held his stomach, shaking with laughter. As it
was, he merely chuckled quietly, which again caused some interesting reactions
in his two capturers.
Suddenly, the bonds vanished from Harry's limbs and he felt himself being
roughly grasped below both arms. Without further ado, his two former enemies
dragged him up and through the door at the far end of the classroom, which led
to Snape's private quarters. They only stopped when they reached the large
four-poster bed spanned with black silk sheets, on which they proceeded to dump
Harry very matter-of-factly.
Harry was still wearing his pants, but under the scrutiny of both Malfoy and
Snape, he felt as naked as a new-born child. Suddenly self-conscious, he drew
his legs close and sat up, hunched over his knees. He looked up uncertainly
from underneath his fringe at the two men who so unexpectedly were making a
move on him today.
His shy reaction brought a wide grin to Malfoy's face, accompanied by a
whispered "Sweet!"
Snape, however, was frowning. "Harry, we did understand you correctly, didn't
we? You do want this?"
Harry looked at him suspiciously. In a challenging tone to hide his insecurity,
he barked: "Since when do you care? You're going to obliviate me once it's
over, anyway!"
Malfoy's voice betrayed some hesitation as he admitted: "Indeed, that was our
original plan..."
Harry snorted.
"...but at the time, we were convinced you would never consent to it."
"And so you decided to simply do it without my consent? Why thank you!"
Snape shot him an irritated glance. "Harry Potter, have you any idea of how
long I have been wanting you?"
Harry made a very good stranded fish impression.
"And I," Malfoy added. "I have been fascinated by you since first we met, by
third year it had developed into an outright obsession. In fifth year, I was
finally convinced that I would never be happy with anyone but you."
"I don't understand!" Harry frowned. "I thought you are with Snape?"
"Have you ever heard the term 'friends with benefits', Potter?" Snape answered
his question with one of his own. "Draco eventually found out why I never
stopped observing you and confronted me with his deductions. We realized our
shared unfulfilled desire for you and decided to help each other over not being
able to have you."
Harry gulped. "I'm honoured," he croaked. If he were being honest with himself,
it was a rather uplifting thought that these two fine specimens were pining
over him. What did it matter what they would have done if...? Important was
only the here and now. And right now, he was sitting half-stripped on Snape's
bed, discussing the motifs of two highly edible men and pondering the
ramifications of something that was now never going to happen... What an utter
waste of time.
Draco's thoughts seemed to have come to a similar conclusion, for he suddenly
asked: "So, about our question..."
"Whether I want you?" Harry threw a pointed glance at his own bulging pants.
"What does it look like?"
Malfoy grinned and even Snape indulged in an amused smile.
"Although..."
"What is it, Harry?" Malfoy asked, sitting swiftly down on the bed besides
Harry and cupping Harry's cheek in one hand.
"Well, it's a bit embarrassing, but..." Harry trailed off again.
"You can tell us, Harry," Snape said, sitting down on Harry's other side. His
hand found its way back to Harry's lower thigh, where apparently it had been
rather happy before.
"I don't know how to say this, but I've never... I mean..."
Snape's eyes were fraught with sudden understanding and he asked kindly:
"You've never done things with a boy?"
"Well, actually..." Harry felt heat creeping up his cheeks once more and
lowered his head in embarrassment.
"You've never done it at all?" Malfoy whispered in a voice heavy with
disbelief.
Harry felt the two men exchange a long gaze over his head. Then he heard Malfoy
say: "Severus, I think Christmas has come early."
Harry felt a hand gripping his chin and tenderly, but determinedly raising his
face until he looked directly into the warmth of the silver-grey eyes that
belonged to one Draco Malfoy.
"No reason to be ashamed," the young man told him. Harry suddenly found it
difficult to tear his eyes from the tender lips that were softly opening and
closing as the other man spoke. He was only marginally aware of Malfoy telling
him that "really, it is great that you have no experience whatsoever. We can
teach you everything..." With these words, Malfoy leaned in until his lips met
Harry's. Harry let it happen and enjoyed the touch of the well-groomed, soft
lips to his own. When Malfoy flipped his tongue against Harry's lips, he
readily let him in.
His thoughts and emotions were still in chaotic turmoil from the heavy change
in perception he had incurred in a mere five minutes. He was not yet ready to
take any conscious action of his own, so for now, he simply waited to see what
Malfoy would do next, and reacted. Malfoy took advantage of Harry's compliance
to thoroughly explore Harry's mouth with his tongue. The flexible muscle
touched against Harry's palate, the gums, and finally nudged against the boy's
tongue. Harry groaned. It was so warm, and soft!
Harry's brain was starting to get involved in the action. He was feverishly
asking himself whether Malfoy might expect a specific reaction to what he was
doing. The thought was eliminated from his brain when Snape suddenly leaned
against his back. The teacher bent down until Harry could feel the man's breath
against his neck. Then he began to gently nibble at Harry's left ear. Harry's
thoughts made one final roaring surge – and then withdrew to stop distracting
his body from its pleasure.
Suddenly the teeth abandoned his earlobe. Harry was about to make his
displeasure known with a deep growl when he felt Snape's tongue thrusting into
his ear, the sensation wet and titillating. Harry sucked in his breath – or
rather, he would have done that had not his mouth been blocked by Malfoy's
still. So instead, he found himself sucking on Malfoy's tongue. Malfoy's eyes
widened and he groaned into Harry's mouth.
Huh. That wasn't so bad.
Harry was curious how much he could make the Ice Prince of Slytherin lose his
composure. He sucked on the tongue once more, this time consciously and quite a
bit stronger. He was rewarded with a loud, humming moan. At the same time he
felt Draco's hand clutching his hair to press their mouths yet more tightly
together.
Severus dipped his tongue into Harry's ear once again, eliciting a mutual
muffled groan from both boys. Finally, Draco let go of Harry, detaching his
mouth from the Gryffindor's to catch his breath.
Harry was just finding his bearing again when a hand came from behind to grab
his hip and resolutely turn him around. Harry raised his head and met the
veiled gaze of his teacher. Then Severus lowered his mouth upon Harry's. The
Potions Master's kiss differed from Draco's like bitter chocolate from vanilla
ice-cream: where Draco had been gentle and careful, Severus was hard and
demanding. Still, Harry found both kisses thoroughly intoxicating. Severus
unexpectedly tasted of something both sweet and spicy, and Harry found his
demanding nature incredibly exciting. Harry permitted Severus, like Draco, to
explore every last nook and cranny of his mouth. So far, he was quite happy to
pass on all responsibility and simply let himself drift, enjoying whatever the
two men decided to do to him.
While Severus was kissing Harry, Draco got busy unbuckling Harry's belt. Once
finished with the task, he opened Harry's pants and slowly slipped one hand
inside.
Severus, however, had other plans. "Don't you think it is time we showed Harry
what we have to offer?" he asked, taking Draco's left hand and pulling it
towards his own clothes.
Draco hesitantly agreed, pulling free his right hand and attacking Severus'
buttons while the man took care of Draco's own. Draco's shirt was the first to
fall.
Harry sat in his spot and watched, enthralled, as Severus gently pushed Draco
down to the mattress and proceeded to relieve the blond of his trousers. When
the young Slytherin was left wearing nothing but his boxer shorts, Severus
leaned over him and began sucking on his nipples. Utterly fascinated, Harry
watched as the little rosy buds slowly stiffened. He leaned forward a little to
have a better view.
Draco moaned and fisted his hands into the bedding over his head when Severus
started to let his hands roam over Draco's body in addition to his lips. When
they encountered the seam of Draco's silken boxer shorts, the hands hesitated a
bit before decisively pulling down this last item of clothing. Leaning back to
drop the boxers to the floor beside the bed, Severus was surprised to notice
that Harry had leaned over further yet, until the tip of his nose nearly
touched Draco's body. With a shy, yet at the same time fascinated gaze, he
inspected the erect penis of the blond boy splayed on the bed before him.
Snape drew back a little to give free hand to Harry. He did not want to
interrupt the boy; he was rather curious what he would do.
Harry, for his part, had hardly noticed that he had moved from his previous
spot. His eyes were glued to Draco's member standing firm and hard between his
thighs. Would the skin on it be as soft and tender as the rest of the well-
groomed Malfoy?
One way to find out.
Hesitating only a little, Harry extended his hand to lay it softly against the
object of his desire. Draco acknowledged the gesture with a deep moan.
The skin truly was as amazingly soft as he had imagined, Harry noticed with
delight as he trailed his fingers up and down the shaft a few times, his grasp
strengthening with each pass. Caught up in his explorations, Harry barely
noticed Draco's highly vocal response to his actions.
Severus watched with baited breath how this inexperienced boy was driving Draco
rapidly towards completion, apparently working on pure instinct. However, a
frown was spreading on the young man's face. Harry was withdrawing his hand and
staring at it, seeming to find some fault with it. He completely ignored
Draco's whine at the sudden loss of touch. Severus' excitement grew when Harry
turned back towards Draco's pulsing manhood and slowly lowered his head. Surely
he will not...?
Harry did.
After noticing that Draco's skin was as soft as that of a new-born kitten even
*there*, his own hand with all its welts and imperfections born of Quidditch
and gardening work had suddenly seemed much too rough for the job. It wasn't
right to touch the rosy member in front of him with such an inferior tool. Yet
touch it he must. He frowned unhappily.
Oh, now he had it. This was the way to go.
Smiling, he lowered his head and softly touched Draco's tip with his lips.
Draco shuddered and his hips snapped up towards Harry.
Why not, Harry thought and opened his mouth.
Draco uttered a little scream when Harry's mouth suddenly engulfed him. Had he
been wondering only minutes before how he might pleasure Harry, he now had to
realize that Harry had taken matters into his own hands... or rather, mouth...
Thinking had become a matter of some difficulty. His body started spasming
uncontrollably, surging up towards Harry's incredible hot mouth until finally,
with a shout of joy, he came.
Harry sat up and drew a hand over his mouth. Huh. Salty. He hadn't quite been
expecting that. Looking down at Draco, he pondered that he had, after all,
managed to affect the Slytherin even without the benefit of vast experience.
Odd; he hadn't set out to actively do anything. Rather, he had been expecting
to have things done tohim. His curiosity, however, had steered him down a
different path. And since neither Draco nor Severus had stopped him, well...
Actually, where was Severus?
Even as he thought this, two long, thin hands took hold of his hips and turned
him around, pushing him forward until his eyes were once again level with
Draco's crotch. Only, said crotch was no longer within his reach, the blond boy
having withdrawn a little to lean against one of the bed posts where he watched
Harry out of half-lidded, heavy eyes.
Meanwhile, the hands let go of Harry's hips to grasp his clothes instead,
pulling down trousers and pants with one sharp tug. Then, Harry was turned back
around and came face to face with Severus, who tugged off his pants all the way
and dropped them carelessly over the side of the bed, where they came to rest
with Draco's boxer shorts.
Harry gulped. Severus looked damn determined. What exactly was he going to do
now...?
The Potions Master leered at him. "Do you mean to beg off now, after waving
that delicious arse in my face the whole time?"
Harry looked up at him doubtfully. He was rather sure that answering "No."
would not be well received. However, he was feeling extremely naked (which he
was), as well as extremely vulnerable. Severus had spoken of a wish to
possesshim. What if he planned to go about that equally as roughly as he had
just now undressed him?
He felt a little queasy.
Severus frowned. Harry had told them that he had never had sex. Still, he could
not comprehend the boy's sudden withdrawal. Had he changed his mind, after all?
They could still go back to the original plan, he pondered. Though I don't
believe Draco would be terribly impressed with that strategy any more.His gaze
swept over the replete boy at the other end of the bed, who in turn was
mustering him attentively.
"What ever am I to do with this shy Gryffindor virgin?" he asked a bit
scornfully.
"Oh, I have a few suggestions..." came the cheeky response.
Severus looked at Draco in surprise. "You do not mind if I am the one to...?"
Draco gave him a lopsided grin. "He made sure that I couldn't do it any time
soon – and you haven't yet gotten to do much at all. So do go ahead, please."
"Hey!" Harry finally inserted himself into the conversation, "I'm not a thing
to be handed around!" His doubts were momentarily forgotten in the face of
their presumption. "I believe that should be my decision, don't you?"
"But it is," Severus answered slyly. "You decided to put Draco out of
commission."
Oh. Looking at it that way... Harry gave a put-upon sigh, but it was pure
reflex. Severus' half-arsed argument had actually convinced him. "Well alright,
I suppose I can be grateful if I can remember tonight at all twenty-four hours
from now, so I shouldn't be so picky..."
Severus looked hurt. "Am I not good enough for you?"
Harry was puzzled. Until that moment, he really hadn't given it much thought.
Did he find Severus attractive?
Well, not counting the greasy hair, he's not so bad to look at.
Did he want Severus to touch him? He remembered Severus' hand between his legs.
Definitely.
Would he be able to submit to this man?
He tastes good. He's been wanting me for years. I want to know more about sex
and he's ready to teach me. Hmmm...
He noticed that his long silence had made Severus somewhat insecure. Already
the man had taken his hands off Harry and pulled back a little.
Harry quickly diminished the irksome distance between them. He laid both his
hands on Severus' shoulders and looked in his eyes. "I have only seen so little
of you yet..." This being said, he started undressing the man.
Severus looked at him in surprise, but let him proceed. Once his upper body was
laid bare, he stood up and removed his remaining garments himself. Harry sat on
the bed in front of him and watched avidly while the Potions Master's entire
slender body was revealed. What he saw made him catch his breath.
Severus noticed the far-off look that spread on the boy's face as Harry leant
forward to stare intensely at his crotch.
"Not this time, my friend," Severus' silky voice interrupted Harry's movement.
"I take it you plan to make both Draco and me incapable of performing?"
With his hand half extended towards Severus, the boy seemed to wake up as from
a trance and gave his teacher a guilty look. "Oops?"
The tall man with the usually sinister face was looking at Harry with quite a
different expression, causing a sudden rise in the boy's blood temperature.
Severus was... hot.
Harry put up no more resistance when the Potions teacher pushed him back onto
the cushions and watched excitedly as he extended a hand towards Draco who
handed over a small tube of lotion. Severus put down the lotion on the cushions
next to Harry's head and leaned down a little more to draw Harry into another
wet and hard kiss. At the same time, the fingers of his left hand were drawing
circles on Harry's chest, spiralling downwards and slowing down to circle the
Gryffindor's navel.
Harry's erection sill proudly stood between his legs. When Severus' hand softly
brushed against it, he sobbed with desire.
"Well, Harry, will you allow me now to take what you have been waving in front
of my face for the better part of ten minutes?"
Harry looked at the man above him utterly bewildered. What was he supposed to
have waved? After a moment more of puzzled staring, Harry thought: Whatever it
be, let him have it, if only hewillcontinue!
Making an effort to produce a strained smile, Harry nodded.
Severus looked at the wicked smile on the teen's face with some wonder. Does he
have any idea what he looks like just now?
"Yumm," Draco suddenly murmured. He was sitting up in his corner of the bed and
watching Harry with hungry eyes.
"Draco, a little patience please; he is mine now, " Severus mildly scolded.
Draco answered with a cheeky grin and purred: "I have no intention to take him
away from you, Severus, but surely you do not mind if I help youprepare him?"
Not waiting for an answer, he plunged down.
Whatever are they talking about? Harry wondered a bit daftly and stretched
lazily. Have they forgotten about me?
Just then he felt Draco's hot, wet tongue enter his crack. He screamed.
"Do you like that, Harry?" Severus' dark, silky voice purred in his ear. While
Draco kneeled between Harry's legs, massaging his arse with his hands and
pleasuring his pucker with his tongue, Severus pulled Harry into another
searing kiss that utterly obliterated all conscious thought.
"Huh?" Harry suddenly gasped. The divine tongue had left his opening and been
replaced by something a lot more solid. He gently pushed Severus off and sat up
to watch how Draco slowly inserted a finger into him.
"Wha...?"
"We have to prepare you," Draco explained with a smile, "or you won't be able
to enjoy it."
Of course. That made sense.
Wait. What?
Severus seemed to take pleasure in Harry's befuddlement, for his breath at
Harry's ear now came in little stuttering chuckles. "I take it you have never
thought about what two men do together in bed?"
Harry looked at him cluelessly. "Umh... no?"
Fuzzy memories of pain and humiliation surfaced from his sub-conscious when he
racked his brains for some clue as to sexual relations between men. Memories he
had stolen from Raven. They weren't good memories and Harry was pretty sure
that there was a good reason why the protective charm had kept them from him
until now. Surely something that felt this vile and painful even at a weak
mental touch could not be what sex was meant to be all about? His hurried
search through the memories certainly did not yield any results for lube and
preparation...
Draco surfaced from in-between Harry's legs and scrutinized the Gryffindor.
Turning to Severus, he observed: "Utterly clueless. Is that an advantage or a
disadvantage, you think?"
The tall man was still smirking. "Well, if Harry does not know what's coming,
he can approach it with unbiased joy. Nice," he said, trying to convey with his
eyes that he should not expound on the issues any further so as not to scare
Harry off. If the boy tensed in the anticipation of pain, it would not be a
good experience for him and they might end up erasing his memories after all.
Draco grinned and after a quick nod sank back between Harry's legs. Harry
looked from one to the other with obvious puzzlement, intent on asking more
questions, when once again he felt Draco's tongue inside him, followed by a
finger – and all his questions deserted him. Why worry? Something that felt so
good couldn't be bad. If there was something he needed to know, he was sure the
two men would tell him. If they said nothing, that's probably because there was
nothing to say and he could just lean back and enjoy...
"Ooouch!" Harry sat up with a yell and stared at Draco with horrified eyes.
Damn, but that hurt! "What are you doing?!"
Draco looked up at Harry in mild irritation. "Stretching you, still. "
"But it didn't hurtlike that before! What did you... did you..." At a loss for
words, he lamely finished with: "- put in there?"
"Well, so far, three fingers."
"Three?!" Harry blanched. "Is that necessary?" He couldn't imagine how three
fingers could fit in *there* all at once. Also, he still wasn't entirely sure
as to the purpose of this now decidedly unpleasant exercise.
"Harry," Snape explained with more patience than he had shown in seven years of
classes, "a lot more can fit in there. But first, you have to be stretched.
Then it won't be a problem at all."
"More?" Harry's eyes nervously chased back and forth between Draco and Severus.
"Like wha-"
The two men could see the proverbial light bulb being switched on in Harry's
head.
"No. No, no, no. THAT's not up for discussion. It's supposed to fit in there?
U-un. No way! You've got to be kidding me!"
Horrified, he tried to escape from the two strange creatures in bed with him.
Whom apparently he knew even less that he'd previously thought, if they really
thought something like thata good idea. They couldn't possibly...!
"Harry. We're not going to hurt you." That was Draco.
"I am fairly convinced that you will enjoy it." Snape.
"Enjoy it?! Are you out of your mind??!!!" Harry was livid. "I mean, have you
ever stopped to consider how BIG he is?!" He raised an accusing finger towards
Snape.
Who merely smirked at him. "Did you mean that as a compliment, Harry?"
Harry's face developed a bright red flush and he quickly drew back his hand.
"I... uhm... that is to say..." He didn't get any further than that, for Snape
had sealed his lips with a kiss. Meanwhile, Draco lightly tapped against his
erection. Harry shuddered.
"More...!" he gasped when Severus released his lips.
"My pleasure," Draco grinned and took Harry into his mouth.
Fireworks exploded in Harry's head. He couldn't think clearly. Draco's warm
mouth engulfed his most private part, while the blond's hands were gently
kneading his balls.
But suddenly the wet warmth was gone. Harry was about to complain when he felt
Draco's mouth closing around his balls and the complaint died a silent death
upon his lips. What a feeling!
"Aaaah!"
"Do you like that?" Severus breathed into his ear.
"Yes..."
"Do you want to experience even more intense feelings?" Following his words,
Severus took hold of Harry's left nipple and started toying with it teasingly.
"Oh... YES..." Harry uttered laboriously.
"Then stop resisting." Severus brought his mouth down on the nipple while his
fingers wandered over to the right one. At the same time, Draco too changed his
target and Harry once again felt a slick, warm finger against his entrance.
He wanted to protest, but Severus, noticing his distress, heartily bit his
nipple. Harry gasped, stumped by the new impression firing up his already tense
nerves. He totally failed to notice the finger slipping into him, followed
right away by a second one. Then Draco took up the play with his balls again
and Harry was so distracted that it took him several minutes to become aware of
the two fingers moving inside him, spreading and drawing back together like the
blades of a pair of scissors.
Eventually, the fingers withdrew and he noticed absently that Severus' mouth
and hands left his torso as the man took Draco's place. What was going to
happen now?
The first thing that 'happened' was Draco. The Slytherin had lain down flanking
Harry and started sucking on his throat. Harry gasped, surprised. At that
moment, he felt something big and hard touching his entrance. Before he had a
chance to protest, Snape had plunged into him balls-deep.
Harry's world exploded in pain.
Like a dam breaking, memories flooded his thoughts in wild disarray. In some
corner of his consciousness, he was aware that they were not his memories, but
Raven's; that it really had been a dam breaking. Raven's spell seemed to have
been weakened by Harry's intense feelings and finally snapped when sharp anal
pain was added into the mix.
The knowledge did nothing to protect him from the shame and agony accompanying
the memories. For all intents and purposes, they were his own.

… He screamed like a mad man as Voldemort pushed into him again and again.
Harry had never had sex before and he hadn't known that this act meant for
mutual satisfaction could be perverted into a means for humiliation and
torture.
Voldemort signalled Lucius Malfoy. The Death Eater grabbed Harry's hair and
forced his head up. Harry's screams abruptly ceased when Lucius' flesh
penetrated his mouth...

"Breath... I need to... breathe..."

… He lay on the floor of his cell. Macnair was explaining that it was his
anniversary: He'd been Voldemort's prisoner for a full ten years. To mark the
occasion, Macnair had come up with something special.
Raven – it had been a long time since he thought of himself as 'Harry' – looked
at the Death Eater with a blank face, but inside, he was trembling. No matter
what the other Death Eaters might come up with and however much it would hurt
him, Macnair had something more perverted and humiliating every time. The man
had developed into a damn good Healer over the years and had finally obtained
Voldemort's permission to visit Raven whenever he wanted, as long as he cleaned
up after himself.
When he noticed the ring, halter and whip in Macnair's hands, he knew that
today was no exception. When Macnair 'mounted' him, he found out the Death
Eater had even thought to bring spurs...

"No... please don't... AAAAAAAAHH!!!" Harry curled up into foetal position and
held his sides as thought they pained him.

… His whole body hurt. His skin hung down in strips where Parkinson had flayed
it. He stood with his hands bound to a pole high above his head. The pole was
set up in the centre of Trafalgar Square. Muggles and wizards were hurrying by
with lowered eyes while their once-hope was trying in vain to scream himself to
death. It was the annual public reminder to the people that it was a bad idea
to oppose Voldemort.
"Beg," a voice hissed.
Raven no longer knew who it was giving the command; no longer knew where he was
or why. He only knew that he had to obey.
"Please... please..." he regurgitated.
"Please what, slut?"
"Please... heal..."
"You want to be healed? Well, well... I have an offer for you: I will heal you
after I've fucked you. How's that?"
There had been a time when he would have baulked at the thought. But he had
been someone else, then. Now he was Raven, the Saviour-who-Failed, the Man
Without Nobility, Honour, and Meaning. Yes truly, honour was a concept rather
lost on him these days. It only meant additional pain – that much, at least, he
had thoroughly learned...
===============================================================================
"Please... please fuck me..."
Severus and Draco looked at each other in horror. Right at Harry's first
scream, Severus had let go of the boy and withdrawn. When Harry began to spasm
and curl up, whimpering with pain etched into every line on his face, they had
spoken every analytical spell known to them over the boy – yet to all outward
appearances, Harry was perfectly alright.
They were at a complete loss what to do. Did they need to call Mme Pomfrey?
Then suddenly, there was that comment from Harry.
"Please... please fuck me..."
"Severus... What's going on?" a distraught Draco asked.
Harry was gasping and squirming on the bed. Sweat and tears were glistening on
his face and now his body was spasming uncontrollably as he screamed: "Please!
Give it to me!"
"I cannot stand this," Severus said with a stony face. He took up his wand.
"Should anything happen to me, please call Mme Pomfrey. I'm going in. I HAVE to
know what is going on. Legilimens!"
Snape's eyes closed and Draco watched horrified as his beloved teacher's face
changed until it was nearly unrecognisable. It nearly looked like the man was
straining to hold back tears. His chin was vibrating, his eyes were pinched
tight. Then a tear ran down his cheek. A panicked scream rose from his throat.
"Harry. NO!!!"
His body twitched, then it fell down limply on top of Harry's.
"Severus? Severus, what happened? SEVERUS!"
"Draco...?"
"Harry, you're back! Thank Merlin! But what about Severus?"
"He's just unconscious. The shock was too much for him. He believes that was
me..." The voice sounded weak, unstable.
"You were what?"
"What he saw in my memories. They aren't all mine. They were supposed to stay
under wraps until I was ready to confront them. Only the spell seems to have
broken today. If Severus hadn't called me, I might have drowned in those
memories. What a terrible way to go. If I imagine being trapped in hismemories
for the rest of my life..."
Harry slowly, but steadily turned green. At the last moment, he leaned over the
side of the bed and noisily puked on the bedroom floor.
Draco gently caressed his back. It was a nice, calming feeling and Harry leaned
into it.
"Harry, I don't understand a word of what you just said. Why are you carrying
someone else's memories around? And why is it so bad that Severus thought they
were yours?"
Harry was spared from answering when Snape chose that moment to come to with a
pronounced groan. Dazedly, he sat up. When he noticed the two naked boys
sitting on the edge of his bed, all colour left his face.
"Harry! Oh Merlin, why didn't you say anything?! If I had known, I would never
have..."
Harry silenced him with a determined gesture.
"Snape... Severus. I know how this must have looked to you. I also know it will
be difficult for you to believe me since I sometimes find it hard myself to
keep my head straight with all those jumbled memories. But please let me tell
you that no matter how much you thought that what you saw was me, it was not.
"Just think about it logically: Raven was nearly seventy years old at the end
of his sad life. You must have seen memories where he was considerably older
than I am now. You also know that Voldemort has only kidnapped me once for a
handful of hours; had I been tortured with more than the Cruciatus on that
graveyard, I am confident you would have extracted that information from Mme
Pomfrey. After all, I know now that you have taken an interest in more than my
bare survival for quite some time now...
"And finally: Should you have seen any memories less than forty years back,
then the mere presence of all of my limbs should be sufficient proof that I am
notRaven!
"...Truth to be told, that is what helps me most. It's something so tangible.
Every day, I remember another little thing about his life – or rather, his slow
death, because that's what he has been doing for the last – or should I say
next? - fifty years, without much success. I am just so happy that he finally
managed..."
Harry didn't notice Severus' and Draco's shocked faces and determinedly
soldiered on.
"Every day, there is something I remember. At first, it was only insults and
beatings. When I had processed those, the public displays followed, the
diseases and finally the mutilations. I hadn't gone all the way to the rapes –
Raven's spell is really brilliant that way, it knows exactly what I have the
most trouble dealing with...
"But anyway, when I remembered how his arm had been taken from him for good, I
only managed not to go insane because I could feel that both of my arms were
still there. That way, I could prove to myself that it truly wasn't my memory
at all.
"I know that Raven went mad several times. But, of course, they would not let
him. It's hard to credit how much Death Eaters can know about even mental
illnesses and their cures. Every time, without fail, they healed him and once
again took away all of his hopes."
Harry sighed sadly. The short break was enough for Snape to insert a question.
"What do you mean when you say his arm was taken from him 'for good'?"
Harry hardly knew what he was saying. He was still overwhelmed by the newly
uncovered memories and fascinated by his means of return. Snape had called him
by his name in his head, and at once, the spell had been broken...
"For good – well, it's obvious, isn't it? Before, they had always re-attached
his arms, ears, take a pick – after a while, but not that time. Was quite the
shock."
This time it was Draco who leaned over the side of the bed to empty his stomach
of dinner and lunch. Harry vanished the mess with a wave of his wand.
Snape was still looking somewhat peaky himself, but he managed to keep his cool
a little better than his young lover.
"Harry... Not even the best Healers at St. Mungo's can re-attach lost limbs
just like that. And even Wormtail's hand was just a fabrication. He could use
it like a real hand, but he had no feeling in it, and I am rather sure that it
would have dissolved in a strong magical field, like, say, the one around
Hogwarts. How can it be that a person had the same arm 'taken' from them
several times?"
Harry seemed to finally wise up to the topic of the conversation. He turned
even whiter than Snape; gulped; closed his eyes and tried to calm down.
Finally, he opened his eyes again and determinedly looked at Draco and Severus.
"You already know enough that I cannot hide my story without obliviating you
both. Since you have spared me from that fate today, I want to do you the same
courtesy. Besides, if I didn't, you would probably just jump me again at the
next best occasion... Not that I would dislike having sex with you, mind." He
smiled. "But considering the events of today, it seems like a good idea to let
you in on some of my recent experiences first. I think it might be good for me
to talk about all this to someone; and you will know better how to help me and
won't get a heart-attack if I lose it again."
He looked at the two men with serious eyes.
"Can I trust you never to repeat a word of what I am about to tell you, to
anyone?"
"Are you trying to insult us? Of course!" both men immediately replied.
"Very good. And are you ready for a long and very cruel story?" Both wanted to
answer, but Harry held up his hand. "Draco, before you answer, please give me
your Pocket Pensieve, the one for the five minute notes. I've seen you bragging
about it to Zabini in Charms today..."
Pouting, but also very nervous, Draco got up to retrieve the Mini-Pensieve from
his school bag. Harry took it and extracted one of the new memories from his
brain. Raven was some forty years old and being raped simultaneously by several
Death Eaters while Voldemort was watching.
"This is not me. But you will feel like it's me again and again, despite that
knowledge. As I said, I sometimes have trouble myself keeping the lines
straight... Anyway, my story will revolve around events like this one. Please
only tell me if you really want to hear it after you have seen this."
Without another word, he activated the Pensieve.
The three of them watched with horror how the man on the floor – Harry?-
started to scream; how blood spurted from his ruptured anus; how the Death
Eaters laughed and taunted him...
Finally it was over.
Draco gulped. The taste of his own bile was still heavy on his tongue. But
after having watched how a man looking so damn like Harry had been forced to
lick up his own sick, he fought the demands of his body and pressed his lips
tightly together.
"Well?" Harry asked. "Do you want to know why I am carrying his memories,
Draco? And you, Severus? I know you can take a lot. I am sure you have seen and
experienced many horrors in Voldemort's service. But as far as I know, only one
person has ever suffered the full extent of his hatred..."
"You are speaking of yourself?"
"Yes and no."
Snape looked at him firmly. "I want to know."
Draco didn't look entirely as certain as Severus, but he seconded the claim.
"As you wish," Harry agreed. "I am glad that I will be able to share my secret
with someone. I know that I cannot tell Ron and Hermione of this. They are much
too... naïve, I want to say. Too clueless and protected from the evil in this
world; I could never tell them about Raven. It would break them. But you, I can
tell. I trust in your strength. I just hope we aren't all overconfident in that
strength."
And so Harry started his tale.
***** Epilogue *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
===============================================================================
                              ~ Ten Years Later ~
===============================================================================
 
"Harry?"
The man in question kept talking to the woman in the white hospital bed for a
little while longer. Then he politely took his leave and turned towards the
speaker.
"Draco! What are you doing here already?"
The blond playfully threatened his partner with his index finger.
"Honestly, Harry, I am tempted to attach a Muggle watch to your arm with a
permanent sticking charm. Have you any idea how late it is?"
He gently took Harry's arm and guided him towards one of the fireplaces on this
floor as they talked.
"Umh, around seven, I would think."
"It is TEN p.m., Harry! You've been working over-time for two hours now.
Godric's Hollow."
" Godric's Hollow. - cough, cough- Well, who would have thought."
"Just like yesterday."
"Well, yes, but that was..."
"And the day before."
"I had- "
"And the day before that."
"Draco, I-"
Draco turned towards the raven-haired man in the Head Healer robes and gently
pulled him into a hug.
"Harry, I know you always have wonderful reasons to stay longer at work. But
please think of Sev and me a little, as well. Hm?"
Harry leaned back with a soft sigh and enjoyed the feeling of being safe in
Draco's strong arms.
"I know that your work is everything to you. You have often told us howyou
and... hehave suffered to make all of those medical innovations available to
our world. Hey, I was therewhen you discovered one cure after another in your
unique way during our last year at Hogwarts and the many years that followed.
And paid for it dearly."
"I know that, Draco. I do. I also know that I might not have made it without
you and Severus. I will be grateful to you both until the end of my life. And
to him. It was he who told me that I might find love not where I would have
expected it back then..."
Harry's eyes got a dreamy, far-off look and Draco could only guess that his
life partner was once again lost in memories. Different from the many days and
nights when this would have been a reason for worry, Draco could now calmly
leave Harry to his reminiscence.
Three years ago, Harry had discussed the last of Raven's nightmareish memories
with him and Severus and analysed the medical possibilities it opened.
They had reached the end.
There were no more horrible memories to discover.
Harry had worked through the enormous mountain of abuse, mutilation, disease,
humiliation and pain and come out sane and whole at the other end. He was not
left broken by the experience.
Raven's spell had protected him.
===============================================================================
Hermione and Ron had never learned the truth. For several years after their
graduation, Harry's abrasive and cool demeanour that without fail answered
their worried questions had caused a rift between the three former best
friends. Harry's relationship with the two Slytherins that they stopped hiding
after the seventh years graduatedonly made matters worse.
But then one night Hermione had come to visit unannounced.
 
Climbing out of the fireplace, Hermione was confronted with a crying Severus
Snape, sitting alone at the kitchen table and continuously sobbing "I can't do
this any more... I can't... When will it ever be over...!"
For a full five minutes, Hermione simply gaped at him.
Then she hesitantly approached the usually so controlled and emotionless
Potions Master and gently folded him into a hug. She did her best to console
him.
It took her the better part of an hour to put the broken man back together.
Finally, his tears had dried. He had thanked her, fairly ashamed for the
spectacle he had made of himself. When asked about the reason for his distress,
he answered darkly: "Harry proudly told us today that he believes he has worked
through more than half of the memories by now. Half? Only one god-damned
half?!?
"I see him struggling every day with the things that have been done to him .
It's been over two years now. And that was just a little more than half? The
more harmless  half!!! I know that Harry is strong. But... I  am not strong
enough to simply watch from the sidelines how he is suffering! I just want it
to stop, can you understand that?
"But he has taken the memories of his own free will, and he won't push them
away until he has worked through every one... every damn single one..."
The man broke off, stared at her with wild eyes and abruptly clamped down. He
seemed to only now get an understanding of who he was talking to. She could
physically see the aloof mask sliding back onto his face as he called himself
to order. Harry did not want her and Ron to know what these mysterious
'memories' were all about; obviously, Snape and Malfoy were no more inclined to
talk to her about them than Harry was.
After this night, she finally believed Harry when he said it was better for
them to never know what those Memories  were that were the focus of his long
talks with his Slytherins. If they were truly so bad that the mere thought of
Harry witnessing them was enough to have Severus Snape, the most cold-hearted
bastard she had ever known, falling apart and sobbing in her arms like a little
boy.. Then maybe it was better to lay that fight to rest.
Maybe one day when she was old and had seen all there was to see in the
world... Maybe then she would dare ask Harry about those memories again.
But until that time, she would simply be grateful that Harry had spared her.


From that day, the friendship between the three Gryffindors had improved.
Hermione had told Ron about her experience and convinced him that sometimes, it
was best not to have all the facts. With this claim from the part of nerd-par-
excellence Hermione Granger, even Ron could no longer insist that Harry's
silence was treason to their friendship.
And so Harry regained his friends. Even though they did not know what was
really going on, they were a big help to the three men living with the memories
of a more than dead broken hero. They were able to cheer Harry up, pull him
from his sporadic sudden flashbacks or simply distract all three of them from
their darker thoughts.
===============================================================================
Harry gently stepped out of Draco's embrace and made his way towards the
bathroom.
"Have you had dinner yet?" he heard Draco call through the half-open door.
"Yes. When is Severus coming home?" he asked back, stripping from his hospital
robes and dumping them in the laundry basket.
"He's been here for two hours. Though he seems to be asleep now... Guess he was
tired of waiting."
"Severus works too much," Harry called from under the shower.
Draco snorted loud enough that Harry could hear it even through the sound of
the running water. "Pot calling kettle black, Harry!"
"Hey, at least I don't have to oversee any more experiments. Now that I've
passed on all of Raven's knowledge, I'm just another Healer like any other..."
A few moments later, Harry stepped out of the bath and was immediately drawn
into a hug and a fierce kiss by his blond lover.
"I don't like it when you say you're nothing special."
"But Draco... I think that's a good thing! I don't want to be special."
"And yet you are," a silky, dark voice purred from the direction of the
bedroom. "And that is a good thing. You, Harry James Potter, are utterly
special to me and Draco. I am not talking about Raven's legacy. I am talking
about you, Harry, being the most important person in both of our lives. We love
you."
Severus had come closer while he was talking and now slang his long, muscular
arms around the two younger men.
Harry gratefully sank into the embrace of the two men who loved him.
Raven might have feared that Harry would fold under the weight of his memories.
But Harry had proven that he was strong enough to carry the burden he had taken
upon himself. With the help of Draco and Severus and the occasional support of
his other friends, he had gone through those painful times without ever
forgetting how to laugh.
After so many years, Raven's worries were finally, finally proven unfounded:
Harry would never break from the memories of his 'alternative self'.
They were Harry's memories, and yet they were not.
They were past and they were future.
But they weren't his future.
Harry's future was not a lonely one. And although the pictures of torture, rape
and mindless destruction were with him in every waking and sleeping moment of
his life, he had slowly gotten used to them and knew how to keep his emotional
distance.
He had a job; he had a life. He was free.
He had Draco. He had Severus.
He could keep his promise towards Raven.
Harry was happy.


Chapter End Notes
     A/N: Well, that's it. As I said, a patchwork fic, and I think it
     shows. I hope you enjoyed reading it anyways. Thank you to everyone
     who left comments or kudos! :D
     A/N2: 'Rabentod', the original German version of this fic, has been
     partially rendered as a doujinshi by the wonderful Tesla. It's in
     German, but maybe you want to have_a_look, regardless? (Note: You
     have to sign up and log in to the platform to read, unfortunately.)
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!