Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12557988.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Harry_Potter/Other(s), Draco_Malfoy/Harry_Potter, Sirius_Black/Severus
      Snape, Draco_Malfoy/Voldemort, Other_Relationship_Tags_to_Be_Added
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Remus_Lupin, Sirius_Black, Severus_Snape, Molly_Weasley,
      Arthur_Weasley, Ron_Weasley, Hermione_Granger, Vernon_Dursley, Petunia
      Evans_Dursley, Dudley_Dursley, Kingsley_Shacklebolt, Albus_Dumbledore,
      Lucius_Malfoy, Narcissa_Black_Malfoy, Tom_Riddle_|_Voldemort, Other
      Character_Tags_to_Be_Added
  Additional Tags:
      Pedophilia, Underage_Sex, Rape, Rape_Recovery, Rape_Aftermath, Non-
      Consensual, Underage_Prostitution, Sexual_Abuse, Sexual_Slavery, Sexual
      Violence, Child_Abuse, Enemies_to_Lovers, Anal_Sex, Oral_Sex, Rough_Sex,
      Gay_Sex, Exploitation, Severus_to_the_Rescue, Sirius_to_the_rescue,
      Teachers_to_the_Rescue, Implied/Referenced_Incest, seriously, why_did_I
      write_this, Why_are_you_reading_it?, Lust, Falling_In_Love, Love/Hate,
      Other_Additional_Tags_to_Be_Added
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-10-30 Updated: 2018-01-06 Chapters: 4/? Words: 10425
****** Gold and Silver Cracks ******
by silverneko9lives0
Summary
     ON HIATUS - SEE NEW CHAPTER FOR DETAILS
     Before Hogwarts, Harry was subjected to horrid abuse. Sirius and
     Severus are going to do something about it.
     Triggers: Pedophilia, Underage Rape, Sexual Abuse, Sexual
     Exploitation of a Minor, Uncle-Nephew Incest, Prostitution
     Pairings: Harry/Draco, Sirius/Severus, Harry/Multiple, Draco/
     Voldemort
     READ THE DAMN TAGS BEFORE READING THIS STORY
***** Chapter 1 *****
It began not long after his fourth birthday.
Dudley was spending the weekend at a friend’s house and Petunia had gone out
with a few girl friends to the country, leaving Harry alone with Vernon and a
few of Vernon’s friends. He tried to ignore them, focusing instead on finishing
dinner and cleaning the kitchen before taking his own meager helping.
“Come here, Boy,” one of them—Mr. Oswell, Harry’s mind supplied—called. Harry
approached and Oswell pressed the lip of his beer bottle to his lips. “Have a
sip.”
He glanced at Vernon, who waved him on, a strange look in his eye. It made him
uncomfortable, but he obeyed, taking in a sip of vile, bitter liquid. He
coughed, and the beer spilled out of his mouth.
“Potter, you’re making a mess!”
“Now, Vern, you know it takes time to get a taste for this stuff.” Oswell said,
pulling Harry into his lap. “He can clean it up later.”
Vernon grumbled, turning back to the telly. Harry wiggled a bit as Oswell’s
hand moved between his legs and he smelled Harry’s hair. The large hand slid
under his shirt.
“Just relax, Lad,” he whispered in Harry’s ear. “You’ll like it in a bit. Close
your eyes and breathe.” Harry obeyed. It did make it a little easier. Oswell’s
hand moved back down and out of his shirt.
“Mind if we have a bit of privacy, Vernon?”
“Use my bedroom. He’ll clean it up before Petunia comes home Sunday.”
Harry opened his eyes, a little startled at being lifted. He didn’t understand
what was going on at first, but the attention was…
Somewhere between nice and strange. Once in the bedroom, Harry was laid on the
bed. Oswell kissed him, pressing his hand between Harry’s legs again before
pulling the clothes off him.
“We’ll start gently, Harry, okay?”
Harry swallowed, but nodded. Oswell ran his hands over Harry’s legs and dipped
his head down…
After him was Knill and then Johnstone.
All three seemed to have an interest in kissing and petting him. He ended up
feeling good and tingly from it, leaving him rather tired. In the end it wasn’t
that bad, and he figured he had nothing to be nervous about in the end.
The next morning, Vernon told him to shower and dress. They went out to
breakfast and on their return, Vernon sat him down at the table.
“How do you feel? Not too tired?”
“No.”
“Sore?”
“No. I liked it a bit.”
He stared at Harry, as though trying to gauge whether he was lying or not.
Satisfied he wasn’t, he cleared his throat. “How would you like to start
earning a little money? I’ll put it aside in a savings account at the bank. If
you want to get something, you need only tell me and we’ll get it out for you
to use. It’ll only be a weekend a month, so it won’t interfere with school or
your chores.”
Harry thought about it, then nodded.
“What you did for Mr. Oswell, Mr. Knill, and Mr. Johnstone last night is all
you need to do to earn some money. There may be others who will show up, but as
long as you don’t hurt yourself and they don’t hurt you, it’ll be all right.”
“It didn’t hurt.”
“Some might want to hurt you,” Vernon said. “But I will make sure they don’t
try to. If they do, then you let me know. Understood?”
Harry nodded.
By the time he started school at Hogwarts, Harry was aware it wasn’t normal,
this “job” he was doing, but kept it secret from Petunia, and his teachers, and
especially his friends.
The need…the feelings…
He had grown addicted to it. If he told someone he fancied he wanted them to be
his “first,” well, not a lot of them were going to deny the Boy-Who-Lived.
As long as it was secret, and as long as he wasn’t caught, Harry could get off
easily. He chose his partners carefully. Never anyone who would get it out to
the whole school.
Feigning innocence and anxiousness was part of the allure of his job, anyway.
And if it helped his partners to keep their lips shut…
Even better…
                     ~Grimauld Place, Eleven Years Later~
He leaned against the door to the library, heart pounding. He was going to do
it. It should be okay. Remus wasn’t a teacher anymore, after all. It was risky,
but fuck…
He needed something more mature than his usual pickings and most of the group
was off limits. He was a little younger than his clients, but still…
Harry knocked, waiting for Remus’ response. He smiled at him and his confidence
grew at the returning smile on Remus’ face.
“Looking for something, Harry?”
“Just wanted to say hello, again. Privately. We haven’t spent time together
since you left school the year before last. I missed you, Professor.”
“You don’t have to call me ‘Professor,’” Remus said, a hint of amused
exasperation in his voice. “You can call me ‘Remus,’ Harry.”
“Feels a bit too informal, Sir,” Harry replied, carefully approaching him. He
sat beside Remus at the table and bumped his knee against Remus’. It moved
away.
“Sorry,” Remus said, crossing his legs instead. “You know, I thought you’d want
to go on a walk with Sirius and Tonks.” Sirius would have to be a dog and wear
a leash, but it allowed him to leave the house even if just for short periods
of time.
“Nah, I’ve the rest of the summer with Sirius. Who knows how long you’ll stick
around?”
“I’m staying here, too,” Remus said. “It’s not as though I can really get a
decent job with what I am?”
He meant being a werewolf, but Harry leaned against the table. “Hard working?
Dedicated? Sensible? It doesn’t seem fair that being a werewolf would condemn
you when you’ve so many great qualities.”
Remus sniffed, then blinked, staring at Harry. Could he smell the arousal on
him? Was that another thing a werewolf could do? Smell how desperate he needed
to be fucked? Harry smiled and moved a little closer, resting his hand on
Remus’ knee.
“I learned so much from you, Sir,” he said. “Maybe you could teach me some
more? Privately?” he slid his hand up Remus’ thigh, expecting Remus to give in
as others have before, client and pursued. He hadn’t accounted for the
opposite.
Remus jumped out of the chair, which clattered to the floor.
“What are you doing?” he shouted. “I knew your parents! I was there when you
were born! Harry, I’m, uh…” he shook his head. “I’m sorry, but no. I’m not
going to do…whatever you seem to want me to.”
“But you can smell it? Doesn’t it make you want me too—”
“No,” Remus snapped. “No, it doesn’t.”
“At least think about it?”
“I won’t. I’m not interested in a child—and yes, you may be fifteen now, but
you’re still a child, Harry. There’s plenty of others your own age, who might
be interested in a little exploration. You’ll be fine.”
“But I don’t want them,” Harry said. He could salvage this. He could still wear
him down. He approached Remus and tugged on the lapels of his jacket. “I want
you, Remus. Just you. Just the night? Please?”
Remus pulled him off and pushed him back. “No.”
“You know, if you’re already shagging someone, you could just say so.”
“Harry, why do you want me to sleep with you?”
“Well, why not? Why do you not want to sleep with me? You might actually like
it.”
Remus groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “There are so many reasons why
I don’t. Most of those would have to do with that it’s illegal.”
“What’s illegal?”
Harry turned around to Sirius.
“Thank the gods,” Remus sighed. “Sirius, you talk to him because I clearly
can’t right now.”
He strode away from Harry and whispered in Sirius’ ear. The confusion etched on
Sirius’ face morphed to shock, then sternness. Remus left. The door rattled
from the force of its closing, making Harry jump a little.
Sirius approached. “How about you take a seat,” he said, motioning to one of
the arm chairs by the fireplace. Harry sat down across from him. For a few long
painstakingly long minutes, they were silent.
“Okay. Harry, you can’t proposition someone to have sex that’s seventeen and
over. It’s illegal. I get that you’ve a lot of hormones rushing through your
body right now. That’s completely normal. But you really should just be with
someone your own age. When you’re seventeen, you can go ahead and date older
blokes or birds if you like. Until then, you need to stick with others your
age. Okay?”
Harry leaned back, muttering under his breath: “It’s not been a problem
before.”
“What?” Sirius snapped.
Harry jumped, startled by the shift of tone.
“You’ve not been with adults, have you?”
Harry swallowed, unable to turn away from Sirius as lie after lie ran through
his head. In the end, he dropped his shoulders and nodded. “It’s an arrangement
I had with Vernon,” he said. “I’ve never been hurt. Not once being with an
adult.”
“How long?”
“Um…around a decade?”
“A decade?!” Sirius shouted. Harry could feel more than see the fury in Sirius
eyes. “And you never told anyone?”
“Who was I going to tell?”
“Any of us!” Sirius said. “You could have told any of us. Even before you were
at Hogwarts, you went to a muggle school, yes?”
Harry nodded.
“You could have told your teachers there, too. Did your aunt know?”
He shook his head.
“You could have told her. I don’t know if she’d would have done something to
help you, but you could have told her.” He took a breath and knelt before
Harry. “Okay, Kid, this isn’t your fault. When you were that young, you didn’t
know any better. Whatever Dursley did or allowed, he nevershould have done it.
And he won’t ever again.”
“Vernon didn’t touch me.”
“I don’t care. He let others touch you and you are a minor. He used you. Those
people he let near you used you. He’s not going anywhere near you again. I
swear it.”
He stood. “We’re going to talk about this some more, but right now, I think we
both need a bit of time, yeah?” Harry shrugged. Sirius swallowed. “I’ll see you
at dinner, okay?” Harry replied with a nod. Even though Sirius said he didn’t
blame him, he felt blamed. Dirty. He never felt this way before.
“I love you, Kid. I love you more than you can imagine, and we’ll fix this,
okay?”
Harry could only nod. It seemed to be enough for Sirius, who left. As soon as
he was alone, he pulled his legs up and removed his glasses, hiding his face
behind his knees.
                                       #
Explaining what Harry had told him took more effort than Sirius thought it
would.
Molly had left the room, weeping. Most of them were shaking as badly as he was.
Even Snape, though usually scowling, was practically snarling.
Albus was silent. He exhaled. “I will go to the Dursleys’ residence tomorrow.
Severus, could you get an idea with Harry?”
“No,” he said. “I’m not going to cast a legilimency charm on the boy just to
verify what we’ve just heard. I will be there with you, at that house, though,
to gauge his relatives.”
“And if the aunt is complicit?” Moody asked.
“Then they will both be arrested if what I find holds up in the Wizengamot.”
“Unfortunately, that might not be the case, but we can hold them on suspicion
of child abuse,” Shacklebolt stated. “But ultimately, Harry will have to speak
up about his experience with them. And, Dumbledore, blood magic or not, he
cannot go back to them. It was bad before, now there’s more at risk than just
mental and emotional abuse.”
“I know,” he said. “I’ll figure something out. I always do.”
“I want to go, too,” Sirius said.
“No,” Dumbledore said. “You can’t control your emotions, Sirius. And we need to
maintain control. Though, granted, I don’t know how I will fare in
this…incident.”
Snape exhaled, standing. “Excuse me,” he said, leaving the kitchen.
Sirius watched him, wondering when Snape started caring for Harry. He arched a
brow when Snape slammed a fist into the wall. While the others discussed what
options laid available for them, Sirius dismissed himself and approached Snape.
“You seem to be taking it harder than I thought you would.”
Snape glared at him. “His father was your best friend. Everyone here knows
that. They tend to love forgetting that his mother was mybest friend. I may owe
James Potter a life debt that I can never fulfill, but I work hard to make sure
the boy is safe on Lily’s behalf. So, tell me, should I feel any less as a
failure in protecting him as you do? And you were in prison. You have a good
excuse for not being there for him. I don’t.” He leaned against the wall. “I
don’t. I was angry at him. If I had just fucking gotten over myself, maybe I
could have—” He covered his face and exhaled shakily. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. I’m not fine, either. But hey: we can fix it.”
“Black, he’s been raped and he doesn’t even understand that. He doesn’t realize
he’s in pieces.” Severus lowered his hand. “I’ve got to go.” He announced his
departure to the rest of the Order before heading to the fireplace to floo
home.
Sirius sighed and looked up at the banister. Ron and Hermione watched,
expressions unreadable. He approached them.
“How much did you hear?”
Ron’s ears turned red and Hermione bit her lip.
“Enough, then,” he said. “Look: Harry will tell you in his own time. Don’t push
him, don’t hint that you know. Just act natural, okay?”
“Okay,” Hermione said.
Ron just nodded, revealing the Extendable Ear he probably nicked from his
brothers. He played with it, almost as though he didn’t know what to do with
it.
“And don’t tell the twins and Ginny. I don’t want Harry overwhelmed.” They
nodded. “Thank you, you two. Go on. Scram before Molly finds you.”
Hermione pulled Ron back toward their rooms. Sirius leaned against the
banister.
James, what do I do? I don’t know what to do.
                                       #
Draco couldn’t stop shaking. His father insisted that he should be honored.
Before him, it was his aunt, Bellatrix, and with her being in prison, she
couldn’t very well continue to be the Dark Lord’s consort.
His mother tried to assure him that it’d be okay, but somehow he didn’t believe
her. She likely didn’t believe it herself.
He was given a short lesson of what he’d need to do to prepare for the night,
but…
Draco tried to chalk it up to anxiety. He also tried to convince himself it
would just be until his aunt got out of Azkaban—he knew there was a plan to
break out some of the more radical, the madder Death Eaters. His aunt likely
gave herself completely. He only heard of Bellatrix. Knew she was married—not
that it mattered.
And apparently his being underage didn’t matter, either. He got out of the
bathtub and dried. His stomach rebelled and he ran to the toilet, vomiting.
Maybe if he was sick enough…
Stop trying to delay the inevitable, he told himself, spitting the remains into
the toilet and flushed it down. He waited to see if more bile needed release.
Satisfied that he didn’t, he brushed his teeth and rinsed his mouth.
A knock at the door told him his attire for the night was ready. He wrapped his
towel around his waist and grabbed the folded pile.
Satin pajamas. Black. Of course. Resting on top was a leather collar.
He’d be expected to wear it on exiting the bathroom. Draco exhaled.
Just get it over with. Sooner he gets what he wants, the sooner I can go to my
own bedroom.
Draco donned the clothes (noting that a pair of underpants was excluded from
the set), and locked the collar around his neck. He could feel its magic,
binding him to the Dark Lord as his new consort.
More like whore, his mind unhelpfully supplied.
Draco pushed the thought away and left. The halls were lined with Death Eaters
that had managed to get out of Azkaban or never were there. He hoped they
wouldn’t be watching. He was going to have a hard time getting it up just with
the Dark Lord there, let alone all of them watching him.
He passed by them, trying to ignore their stares. Two followed him into the
bedroom.
The room was lit by candles. The bed was dressed in a green duvet set. The bed
frame was metal, painted black, and bore a set of chains and cuffs.
Draco tried to back away, but one of the Death Eaters seized him.
“Here,” the other said, his mother’s voice coming from the mask. She held a
vial in her gloved hand. “It will help,” she assured him.
Draco swallowed and took the vial, downing its contents in one swift gulp.
“There, Sweetheart,” Narcissa said. “You’ll be all right.”
Liar, he thought.
He could tell she agreed. Directed to lie on his back, the other Death Eater
locked his wrists in the cuffs attached to the bed and a leash was clipped to
the collar.
“Get as comfortable as you can,” Narcissa said. “You’ll feel the potion’s
effects soon.”
“Good luck,” the other said with a hint of mirth in his voice.
They left.
Draco focused on breathing.
He supposed the waiting was the worst part. His body was starting to feel warm.
Heated. His lower body, particularly was starting to react in a way it wouldn’t
have otherwise.
Draco wasn’t sure if this was really would help or not.
He knew his mother meant to make it easier, but he’d rather have been knocked
out cold or given a drug that would induce a hallucinogen instead of an
aphrodisiac.
At least now he didn’t have to worry about being unable to perform.
Maybe.
It didn’t help his nerves.
It didn’t help that he still didn’t want to do this.
He willed himself not to cry or scream.
The doors creaked open. He heard them shut with a soft click. He dared not to
look up, though he could hear the rustling of cloth. Draco closed his eyes and
bit his lip, trying to suppress the whimper that demanded to be heard.
He managed to swallow it as the bed dipped. Fingers curled into the waistband
of the pajama trousers and they were carefully pulled off, as though this was
an act of worship. Cold hands pressed against his legs, pushing them apart.
He focused on breathing instead, tried to imagine someone else. But the blunt
nails dug into his skin, pulling him back from trying to find a way out of what
was to come. Not that it would do well. The cold hands caressed his thighs,
pushing them apart.
Draco licked his lips and turned his head, scanning for a clock. A body settled
between his legs and the hands that were on his thighs now rested on his
abdomen.
One of the hands worked on the buttons while the other pinched his chin,
forcing him to look at Voldemort. The serpentine features leered at him. The
red eyes bore into his blue. Draco dared not close his eyes as Voldemort kissed
him. The hand that pinched his chin now pulled on his hair as the kiss
deepened. Voldemort’s tongue slipped into Draco’s mouth.
The kiss ended and Voldemort dipped his head down, kissing and licking Draco’s
torso.
The tongue was hot, like a brand. He cried out when his cock was swallowed into
Voldemort’s mouth. He couldn’t hold back the tears now, biting his lip to keep
from sobbing. If he was lucky, they’d be mistaken for tears of pleasure or joy.
He was twisted around to lie on his stomach. Draco hid his face in the pillow
as he was prepared for the Dark Lord’s cock. Though it was just fingers right
now, they were pushed in so roughly, he couldn’t help crying out and at least
if he wanted to wail now he could do so and it’d be ignored.
The Dark Lord seemed intent on making him scream.
He gripped the chains, as Voldemort stretched him open and licked at his hole.
At last, the pain subsided some, leaving him throbbing. The pain returned when
Voldemort pushed his cock inside him.
If he wasn’t claimed before, he was now. Draco tried to scream, but his voice
was caught in the back of his throat. All he could do was hope it’d end soon.
His hair was pulled again. “Scream for me, Draco. I want your screams tonight.”
So, this pain was intentional.
Draco obliged. He didn’t seem to have much of a choice. He screamed and wept as
he was fucked violently. He wondered if this was what he’d be forced to endure
for the rest of his life. It very well might be unless Voldemort tired of him
as he had his aunt.
The cock pulled out and Draco was turned back over and violently kissed as
Voldemort stroked both their cocks till Draco came, weeping.
Voldemort gripped his hips and pounded his hips against Draco’s, gasping.
At last he came.
It was over.
“Good boy,” Voldemort purred, pulling Draco into another kiss.
He wanted to kick him away to put as much distance as he could between them. He
didn’t, letting Voldemort examine his work. A few charms later and he wasn’t
hurting as much.
“There now, Beauty,” he said, unlocking Draco’s wrists and collar, pulling him
into his embrace. “All is well, now.” He stroked Draco’s hair. “You’ll be
treated well, Beauty. And when you can, you can take my mark. But for now,” he
pulled Draco’s hair, forcing him to look at him. “For now, you are my pet.
Maybe one day, you’ll truly be my consort if you please me.”
Draco nodded and was kissed again. Only then, was he let go. Voldemort
retrieved his clothes and redressed. Once done, he tossed the pajama trousers
to Draco.
“Get dressed. Sleep. I’ll be back later tonight.”
Then he left, leaving Draco to wonder what new torture awaited him that night.
He did as he was told and then grabbed the trash bin, puking again.
A hand—a woman’s hand—pressed against his back as he vomited. “I’ve got you,
Sweetheart,” Narcissa said. “I’m here.”
“Don’t ever give me an aphrodisiac again.”
“I didn’t want him to hurt you.”
“He hurt me anyway.”
“I know.”
“Mum, please. I can’t do this,” he wept. Narcissa pulled him into a hug. “I
can’t do this. It hurts too much. It really hurt.”
“You have to,” she said, “He chose you. There’s nothing we can do about it,
Draco.”
“There has to be,” he whimpered. “There has to be.”
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
     TW : choking
Severus kept close. He had debated leaving his wand behind, but in the end,
decided he might require it. He gave it to Shacklebolt in case he grew
murderous. In his pocket, he carried a vial of Veritaserum to give the
Dursleys.
“We can only assume that Vernon Dursley is guilty at this time,” he said. “Keep
your wands down.”
He turned to the door and knocked. The door opened, revealing Petunia.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded. “He isn’t here.”
“He is with us,” Dumbledore said. “Might we enter, Madam?”
She stepped aside, letting them in.
“Harry revealed some disturbing information to his godfather, who then told me.
Severus, the potion. Might you explain what it does?”
He removed the vial from his pocket. “Veritaserum. Truth potion. One drop is
more than enough to make you spill you’re deepest, darkest secret. For an hour.
More than enough potion, more than enough time.”
“We have also brought a member of our police force to oversee this,” Dumbledore
said. “Now, Petunia, is your husband home?”
“What is this about? As long as he was alive and unharmed—”
“Where is your husband?” Severus snapped.
She stared at him. “In the garden out back,” she said.
Dumbledore went to retrieve him.
Severus met Petunia’s stare. “Been a while, I know. Not long enough.”
“Agreed,” she sneered. “You won’t find anything out. We did what we were told.”
“Then you’ve nothing to worry about,” Severus growled.
Her fat husband approached, sweaty face red and getting redder in fury.
“What the devil is this about?” he demanded. “Your lot is not welcome in my
house!”
“We won’t be long,” Dumbledore assured him. “We just require some confirmation.
Perhaps some water.”
“Lead the way, Mrs. Dursley,” Severus said, following her into the kitchen. In
the living room, her husband continued to shout at them like common intruders.
“Why did you marry such an ass?”
“I love him, Severus. I have a child with him. Not that you care.”
“You’re like my sister. Or at least you were. So, of course I care.”
She set the glasses down. Two were different cups. He added a little
Veritaserum to them.
“What is this about? You wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t serious.”
“Serious doesn’t even begin to describe this. Horrific does.”
She furrowed her brow. “I admit we might show favoritism, but we raised him. We
took care of him. He is alive. That’s all we were told to do. Keep him alive.”
“Then I’m sorry,” Severus said. He took the one of the spiked glasses. “We have
to be certain.”
They returned to the living room. Petunia passed the glasses around, then took
the other spiked glass from Severus. She handed the glass to Dursley as she
drank her own.
“What is this?”
“Drink it before I force it down your gob,” Severus snarled.
“I would do as he says,” Shacklebolt suggested.
“What is it?”
Severus grinned. “Truth potion. Tasteless, odorless, potent.”
Dursley stilled.
“Drink up.”
“I refuse.”
“Why?” Shacklebolt asked. “Your wife assured us there is nothing you’re hiding.
Is that not true?”
He looked between them, weighing his chances. He stared at the glass.
“Mine had the potion, too, Vernon,” she said. “Just drink it, answer a couple
questions, and then they will leave.”
“What sort of questions?”
“Take the potion and you’ll find out,” Severus said, crossing his arms.
Dursley turned to his wife. “You drank it?” he asked.
“It’ll be over soon enough. And if he brewed it,” she motioned to Severus,
“then there’s nothing to worry about, Darling. It’s not poison.”
Looking around once more, he raised the glass up to his lips, then dropped it,
running for the back door.
“Well, that doesn’t make it any less suspicious,” Severus said, taking his wand
back from Shacklebolt. They chased him down and Severus cast a quick Stunning
spell, hitting him in the back before he could get to his car.
He levitated Dursley back inside the house and set him in an armchair. Severus
spilled a bit of the potion into Dursley’s mouth, half listening to Petunia try
to reassure Dumbledore that she didn’t know why her husband ran from them.
“Kingsley, Severus,” Dumbledore said, “If one of you could revive him, I think
we are ready to continue.”
Severus cast one last spell—a body bind—to ensure he didn’t run again.
“Smart,” Kingsley said.
“Thanks,” Severus said, smirking. “Enervate,” he said.
Dursley jerked awake, looking around and testing the bonds. “Untie me at once!”
he demanded. “I want you out of my house! I am calling the police!”
“I am the police,” Shacklebolt muttered.
Severus shrugged as Dumbledore stepped forward.
“Mr. Dursley,” he began. “Harry revealed a disturbing situation. He told his
godfather that he’d been sexually abused.”
“I never touched the little slut,” Dursley snapped.
“Then why would he say that?” Shacklebolt asked. “Why would he accuse you?”
“He wasn’t supposed to say a bloody word!” Dursley shouted.
Severus glanced at Petunia.
She was frozen.
“We had an agreement: he let some bastards fuck him and he’d get a percentage
of the quid made. I had ground rules for his clients. They aren’t supposed to
hurt him. Never needed to take him to the hospital for any issues because of
that.”
Petunia shrieked. “You prostitutedmy nephew?!” she screamed. “You let
pedophiles into our house?! Near our family?!”
“Petunia—”
“YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT!!!”
She lunged at him. Severus caught her around the waist before she could curl
her thin fingers around his neck or scratch his eyes out.
“I’LL FUCKING RIP YOU APART!!! FUCKING ARSEHOLE!!!”
Severus pulled her away from Dursley and into another room.
“LET ME GO!!! SEVERUS, LET ME GO!!!” she became dead weight in his arms as he
fury shifted to distress. She wailed, clinging to him as she sobbed. “Severus,
he…”
“I know,” he said, rocking her. “I know.”
“What about Dudley?” she wept. “What about my baby? What did he do to my baby?”
Severus whispered assurances that they’d find out for her.
“It’d be best if you don’t go into the living room,” he said. “We’ll handle it
from here, Tuney.” He let her go and returned.
Dumbledore and Shacklebolt turned to him.
“She wants to know if he allowed anything to be done to their child,” he said
numbly.
Dumbledore turned to Dursley. “Did you?”
He shook his head.
“I’ll stay with her for now,” Severus said, moving back to the kitchen. Once
assuring her that Dudley was never harmed, her weeping renewed. Severus fetched
a fresh glass of water for her.
“I’m afraid my job would not allow me to host you and Dudley, but there’s
plenty of room at Harry’s godfather’s. I’m sure Dumbledore will allow that.”
Petunia shook her head. “I never liked him, but I never would have allowed this
to happen.  He’s too much like Lily, Severus. In so many ways, he’s too much
like my sister and now it’s too late to fix…”
Severus handed the glass to her. “Have some water, Petunia,” he said. “We can’t
fix it, but we can help him heal.”
“If not for that potion, I’d never believe it,” she said.
She took the glass in a shaking hand. She set it down on the ground. Severus
summoned his patronus and sent it on its way to Grimauld Place with his request
to house Petunia and Dudley.
“Severus, what do I do? What if Harry never forgives me—”
“Hey, now,” he said, embracing her again. “That kid has been known to be kind.
He really is a lot like Lily, so I do believe that he will forgive you. You’re
not responsible for what happened to him because of your husband.”
“Oh my God,” she wailed. “My God!”
Severus let her wail, rocking her as she wept. He could hear shouting from the
living room as though Vernon was attempting to get out of being arrested while
more people arrived—aurors, Severus supposed.
A new patronus arrived and Molly’s voice echoed back:
“Sirius will not take them in,” she said. “Bring Harry’s aunt and cousin to the
Burrow, instead. We’ll see you soon.”
The patronus’ light died.
Severus stood, helping Petunia off the floor.
“Is there anything you want to get before we retrieve your son?”
She swallowed and nodded. He let go and once certain she wasn’t going to
collapse, checked the living room.
“How is she?” Dumbledore asked.
“She’s calmed a bit. The Weasleys are going to take her and her son into their
home for the meantime.”
“Sirius surely has more room.”
“Yes, but apparently, he won’t take them in. Perhaps he worries about their
presence near the boy…I’d have to ask him. However, she wants to get some
things before we head out. I don’t think she should see…this.”
He motioned toward the aurors pulling Dursley up out of the chair and locking
his wrists behind his back.
“Perhaps you’re right,” Dumbledore said, stroking his beard. He flicked his
wand and a curtain appeared, hovering from the hall of the kitchen to the
staircase.
“Thank you,” he said.
“Have you a portkey?”
“Not yet, but I can manage it well enough.”
“All right,” Albus said. “Be careful, Severus. And be quick. There will be an
emergency meeting at Grimauld Place after we’re done.”
“Understood, Sir,” Severus said, making his way back to the kitchen. “It’s safe
to come out,” he told Petunia. “Can you walk?”
“I think so,” she said, seeming to have numbed.
He pushed against the door. It wouldn’t budge.
“Dumbledore!”
“They’re leaving right now,” he said. “Just wait a moment”
“The point of the curtain you conjured was so we wouldn’t have to,” he
grumbled.
Even so, he waited for the charm on the door to lift. He glowered at
Dumbledore.
“Well?”
“He’s on his way to Azkaban.”
Severus grinned. “Excellent.”
Azkaban would definitely be the best place to put someone like Dursley.
“Well, Petunia’s going to get some things packed and then she and I will fetch
her son, and head to the Burrow.”
“In that case, I will see you tonight, Severus,” Dumbledore said.
He turned to Petunia.
“I am sorry for all of this, Madam.”
“Just go,” she said, too tired to snap. “Just go.”
                                       #
They sat in Harry’s bedroom, books splayed over the floor and inkwells and
quills floating off the floor, charmed not to spill as they studied.
Harry glanced at them.
Hermione smiled as if nothing had changed, but Ron couldn’t look him in the
eye.
If not for Ron being painfully obvious, Harry would be certain neither of them
knew. It wasn’t Ron’ fault. He was just a bad actor.
Still, Harry had to know for sure.
“Do you know?”
Hermione and Ron turned to him. Ron’s ears were pink, and Hermione nibbled her
lower lip.
“If you do, that’s okay.”
“We didn’t mean to keep it secret from you, Hermione said. “You have been a bit
more explosive, lately. And Sirius asked us not to say anything.”
He glanced back at his book. “Does it bother you?”
“What’choo mean?” Ron asked.
“It doesn’t bother us,” Hermione took one of his hands in hers. “We’re your
friends. We might not know what to say right now to make you feel better,
Harry, but we love you and we’ll be here for you when you’re ready to talk.”
Harry stared at her hand on top of his own. He glanced at them.
“I knew what they did was wrong. And I know I was too young to really
understand when it started or why. And when I was older, I let it continue. I
just…I didn’t care, I guess.”
He blinked, blinking rapidly as his eyes stung. Even so, his vision blurred.
Hermione embraced him.
“It’s okay now,” she said. “No one will do that to you ever again. We won’t let
it. No one in the Order will let it.”
He removed his glasses, setting them on his Transfiguration text book – he
couldn’t see anyway. Why make it harder once the tears ebbed?
“I don’t even know why I’m crying,” he said. “I thought I had numbed to it.”
“It’s okay,” Hermione assured him. “Let it out. We’re here. We know now, so we
can help you heal, Harry. That’s all we want to do.”
“Yeah, Harry,” Ron said.
Harry hiccupped, hiding his face in the crook of her shoulder.
Ron cleared his throat. “You want some tea?”
Harry managed a weak chuckle that morphed into a ragged cough.
“I think water would be better,” Hermione suggested.
“Be right back.”
With Ron gone, the awkwardness wasn’t as potent. Harry sniffed.
“I think I just…I wanted to lessen the other abuse I went through, you know? I
just thought letting them…you know…I thought it would do that.”
Hermione hushed him. He could feel her own tears wet his face. She kissed the
top of his head. “This doesn’t change anything. You’re our best friend.
Understood? You’re still the strongest and bravest wizard I have ever met.”
She picked up her wand and conjured a box of tissues just as Ron returned,
setting down two glasses of water in front of them. He returned to his place on
the floor, silent and uncomfortable.
Hermione giggled a bit. “You look so red.”
“Well, you know me: I’m pants at this sort of thing.”
Harry managed a small laugh of his own at that. “Yeah,” he said. “You really
are, Ron.”
“Well, as long as you two are smiling again.”
                                       #
He couldn’t stop shaking.
Even as he relaxed, focusing on his breathing, he couldn’t stop the shivers
raking his body. Draco tried not to wince at Voldemort’s touch, but he couldn’t
stop shaking.
At least when he was on his stomach, he could muffle his weeping and they might
be mistaken for moans.
It’d been nearly two weeks since he’d become the Dark Lord’s consort.
No.
Whore.
He was his whore. His slave and bedwarmer. Nothing more than that.
What else could he be when he was fucked so violently that even healing charms,
potions, and salves didn’t seem to work anymore?
Every time he moved, his body ached, even when healed, as though there was a
pain that he could not find, and therefore could not cure.
He pushed the word down and the pain of being entered aided in fighting the
thought.
I am not a whore, he reminded himself. I do not want this. I hate this. I don’t
want this. I am doing this because I don’t have a choice. I don’t want this.
This doesn’t make me a whore. Or a slag. Or a slut. I don’t want this. Gods,
please, I don’t want this.
He whimpered when Voldemort bit down on the junction connecting neck to
shoulder. He refused to scream, nearly biting his lip all the way through.
He could taste the iron of his blood as it filled his mouth from biting his
lip. He dared not release his lip even when Voldemort loosened his own jaw and
licked at the bite mark.
His hair was yanked, forcing him to let go of his lip from between his lip and
the brutal, bloody kiss made him ill.
I can’t do keep doing this.
He wanted to bite Voldemort’s tongue, anything to get him off, but the fear
that it would only make this torture worse kept him from doing so.
I’m leaving. First chance I get, I’m leaving. I’ll run. I’ll go where they
can’t find me –
“You’re a silly boy, my Beauty,” Voldemort purred.
He pulled his weight off Draco, shifting to turn him over onto his back before
resuming. He gripped Draco’s throat, nearly cutting off all airflow.
“You can try, if you like, but I will always find you. You belong to me, Draco,
and you always will.”
Draco clawed at the hand around his neck, trying to pry it off.
“Say it: ‘I belong to you.’”
“Please,” he gasped. “Let me go.”
“Say. It.”
“I belong to you.”
The hand did not loosen.
“I belong to you. I belong to you. I BELONG TO YOU!!”
Everything goes black…
He woke alone and healed of bruises and cuts.
Again.
He winced when he moved to get out of bed. It still hurt. He hid his face in
the pillow and wept. His throat hurt, as well, and he was half certain that if
he were to look in the mirror, he’d see a hand sized bruise around it.
Draco forced himself to move. To bathe. To regain any sense of normalcy he
could.
Once in the bathroom, he glanced at his reflection and instantly regretted it.
With a deep breath, he forced himself to look at the mirror.
There was no bruise on his neck. Or any physical indication that he was in
pain. Even his lip had been healed, pale pink rather than bruised dark red.
It was all in the eyes.
They didn’t use to look so hooded and lackluster. He didn’t used to have dark
circles under them from lack of sleep. He didn’t used to look so shrunken and
small.
He could see more than feel the rage take over when he smashed the mirror and
cut his hand. He barely felt the pain of it till it had already been done.
“Draco!”
Narcissa pulled him away from the shards, waving her wand to fix the mirror and
then examined his hand, healing that as well. She wept and kissed his hand.
“I’m sorry, Sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, Mum,” he mumbled. “Sorry about the mirror.”
She hushed him, pulling him into her arms and rocked him. The image of his
favorite teacher came to mind. He wasn’t even trying to think, and still…
“Can I go visit Severus?”
Narcissa let him go. “Of course, Honey. You can visit him as long as
you’re…home…on time.”
Right.
Wouldn’t want to deny the Dark Lord his play thing.
His whore.
She left, allowing him to wash. He scrubbed his body till it was pink from both
heat and soap.
Once as clean – purified – as he could make himself, he dressed in a pair of
jeans and a t-shirt. He hadn’t the will to dress in a way more suited to his
status and he really couldn’t bring himself to care.
Even as he pulled on a pair of trainers, he only did so mechanically.
And at breakfast, even though he was dressed more like a muggle than usual, he
could still feel the eyes of every death eater in the room staring at him.
Judging him.
Or violating him with their eyes, as if they knew what happened in the room
that had once been his sanctuary.
He tensed at a press of lips to the top of his head, gripping his fork in a
death grip.
“Good morning, Draco,” Voldemort said.
Draco swallowed and looked at him.
He hated those red eyes staring into him, a though they could read his mind and
strip him bare for all to see how weak and pathetic he felt beneath them.
He had to let go of his fork and relax, forcing a smile when all he wanted to
do was embed the prongs into one of those unnatural eyes.
“Good morning, my lord,” he replied, enduring the kiss pressed to his mouth.
And the hand that ran through his hair as he ate while the others bade
Voldemort a good morning as well.
His food, though it was his favorite morning meal, tasted like ash.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Draco entered Spinner’s End from the fireplace in Severus’ sitting room.
Dusting ash off his clothes, he went in search of Severus.
He found him with his head on the table, a cup of cooled tea a few inches away
from his head. Draco knocked on the wall.
Severus snorted, waking. He grabbed his wand and pointed it at Draco for a
brief moment.
“Oh.”
“Rough night?” Draco asked.
“Like never before,” Severus growled.
He was also unshaven, Draco guessed, given the hint of shadow over his face.
“But a bit of coffee,” he reached for the cup and wrinkled his nose. “Fresh
coffee, that is, and I might be able to function. Want a cup?”
“No thanks,” Draco said. “I, um, I need advice, actually.”
Severus grumbled questioningly, encouraging Draco to continue.
“Well, you know that I’m the Dark Lord’s consort—”
Severus spun around. “What?” he snarled.
Draco blinked.
“I thought everyone was there that night. The Dark Lord chose me to be his
consort. Well, consort isn’t really the right word, but…”
Severus motioned for him to sit at the table.
“Start from the beginning. What happened two weeks ago?”
Draco recounted his induction ceremony.
Severus joined him at the table, massaging his forehead as he listened.
“Is this consensual?” he asked.
“No, but what options do I have? I thought about running away, but…but he
seemed to know I was thinking that. Told me it’d be pointless. That’d he’d
always find me. I never wanted to do this, but I don’t have a choice. At least,
I feel like I don’t. I just don’t know what to do and I don’t know who to turn
to.”
Severus sighed. “I wish I could say I did have an answer. As it is, Draco, I’m
going to alert the Headmaster. I know you think he can’t help, but I assure
you, he will know what to do.”
“You weren’t there?” Draco asked.
“Draco, I didn’t even know he was going to do this to you. I don’t know why
you’re parents felt they couldn’t do anything about it, but no child should go
through what you are going through right now. I would do anything to protect my
students.”
He stood.
“Come on now,” Severus said. “We best go to the Headmaster and figure out what
we can do.”
Coffee forgotten, Severus took Draco’s arm and they apparated.
They stood outside a row of townhouses. He looked around, wondering if this
grungy looking place was truly where the Headmaster lived. Severus lead him
toward one of the walls between # 11 and #13.
He tapped his wand against it and the wall began to elongate, pushing the
street aside as it formed a new house marked #12.
Draco followed Severus inside, shutting the door quietly behind him.
“Haha!” a female voice shouted. “JENGA TOWER!”
“BLOOD TRAITORS AND MUDBLOODS IN MY ANCESTRAL HOME!!!”
“Just ‘Jenga,’ Tonks.”
Draco froze, recognizing the third voice as Hermione Granger’s, ignoring the
shrieks of the second – seeming to come from a portrait.
Severus waved his wand at the frame, shutting the curtains over it.
Draco kept close, glancing briefly in a sitting room where Granger, Weaslette,
and an older woman with bright pink hair were rebuilding a tower out of wooden
blocks.
They didn’t see him, for which he was thankful, and kept just inches away from
Severus as they entered a kitchen.
Lupin sat the table there, drinking tea, while Sirius Black read the paper.
Draco swiftly turned his head, looking from Black to Severus, confused and a
bit frightened.
“Where is Dumbledore?” he asked.
“Library,” Black said, without looking up.
“Come on,” Severus steered Draco out of the kitchen and up a staircase.
“You know Sirius Black?!”
“We were in the same year at school,” he said. “And he’s not a death eater, nor
a murderer. Not that he isn’t capable of it. Even so, he’s safer than most of
the wizards and witches you know that never did a stint in Azkaban. Here we
are.”
Severus knocked, waiting for Dumbledore to admit them.
Once given permission to intrude, Draco followed Severus inside. Dumbledore’s
eyebrows rose when he spied Draco with Severus. Severus squeezed Draco’s
shoulder, perhaps trying to be reassuring.
“Just tell him what you told me,” he instructed.
Draco didn’t like the idea of having to relive it again, but obeyed, unable to
watch the change in the Headmaster’s eyes.
Once he’d finished again, he was staring at his feet, hands shoved in his
pockets.
“Draco,” Dumbledore said. “Thank you for telling us. I’m going to have a talk
with Severus so we can figure out the best way to help you get away from
Voldemort. If you could step outside for a moment. We’ll call you back in when
we have a solution.”
He left the library, shutting the door behind him.
“Malfoy?” Draco turned around, groaning.
Of all the people he had hoped to avoid, Potter was at the top of that list.
“What are you doing here?”
“None of your business, Potter.”
“Actually, it’s my godfather’s house, so in a way, it is my business.”
Draco turned to him, snarling. Then he sighed.
“I don’t want to talk about it, all right? I’m not going to be here long, I’m
sure, so just relax and do whatever it is you do when you’re not at school.”
He leaned against the door and slid to the ground.
“Just leave me alone.”
Potter didn’t move at first, staring at him a little longer. “Are you all
right? You look…tired.”
“Yeah, lack of sleep will do that.”
The door opened and Draco nearly fell over. Severus arched a brow.
“Get in here. Potter, scram.”
Draco scurried into the room and the door was shut in Harry’s face before he
could move. Draco half expected that Potter would stay where he was and listen
behind the door.
Certainly would be his style, bloody nuisance.
“Draco, Professor Snape is going to teach you Occlumency. It’s an advanced type
of magic that we believe will be able to sever the link Voldemort appears to
have made to you. He won’t be able to read your mind anymore once you’ve
mastered it. For the pain you might be going through, Severus agreed to brew
you some new potions. That should take care of anything that still hurts. While
this happens, we’ll be working on a more permanent solution to get you away
from him.”
“I’m afraid we don’t have a better solution right now, but we will figure
something out as fast as we can,” Severus promised.
“I’ll let you get started,” Dumbledore said, standing. “I’ll alert the Order
that Draco is also under our protection now, as well.”
With that, he left.
Severus turned to Draco.
“We’ll take it carefully,” he said. “As it is imperative you master this
magic.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Severus waved his wand, conjuring large pillows.
“Take a seat.”
                                       #
Harry backed away when the door opened and Dumbledore walked out.
They stared at each other.
“Were you eavesdropping, Harry?”
“Erm…”
Dumbledore sighed.
“Harry, I must implore you to keep whatever you’ve heard to yourself. And do
work on your spying problem. It isn’t doing you any favors, isn’t it?”
“I suppose not. Sorry, sir. I was just wondering why Malfoy was here.”
“If Mr. Malfoy decides to confide in you, then you might find out what brought
him to the Order. But for now, that information is his to disclose if he so
wishes.”
He began his descent down the stairs.
Harry followed. “But the rest of the Order will find out what it is. Just like
how they found out about my uncle. Maybe I could help –”
“Harry, there is nothing you can do right now to make any of it better. Except,
maybe, be his friend. He might need that, if nothing else. Now, I think we
could do with some tea.”
Harry mumbled an affirmative, though his curiosity gnawed at him.
What happened that would make Draco Malfoy switch to their side?
                                       #
He walked down the hall.
His body hummed with excitement as he neared the room where his beautiful
consort waited.
The door creaked as it opened and clicked shut behind him as he approached the
form in the bed.
Silver hair glimmered in the moonlight seeping into the room.
His skin was just as pale and fair.
Smooth to the touch, but soft and warm – so unlike porcelain. And the eyes are
clear as clean cut sapphire.
He pulled the covers off, pleased to find his consort had decided to forgo any
sort of covering.
The bed dipped under his weight as he joined his consort, sliding his hand
between slender legs, nudging them apart.
His consort shut his eyes as he repositioned him so that his knees pressed
against his shoulders.
He muttered a cleansing spell, relishing the whimper that escaped his consort’s
throat as he leaned down to bite and lick the skin, digging his nails into the
pale flesh.
His consort whimpered again, sending shivers down his spine. He rose and kissed
him, running his hand through the silver hair.
He gripped the tresses, yanking.
His consort hissed as he pushed him into a different position so that his cock
was pressed against his face.
“Suck,” he said.
Obediently, the boy opened his mouth and took his cock in his mouth.
His mouth was warm.
Enticing.
Electrifying.
He hissed, rolling his hips, gradually fucking his consort’s fair mouth.
He yanked his hair before it grew too much and switched his position again,
pushing his slick cock into his consort’s ass. The boy whimpered more, biting
the pillow as he pounded deeper into him.
“Fuck,” he growled, tugging his consort’s cock.
He pulled out and molded the boy to a suited position allowing him to pound
deeper into him.
“Look at me, my Beauty.”
Blood dripped down his lover’s chin, mixing with beautiful tears. He’d bitten
his lip nearly through again.
It never ceased to arouse him.
Seeing him in pain.
He was so pretty when he cried.
So sexy when he wept…
Harry bolted upright, shaking.
What the fuck was that?!
He got out of bed, feeling his hard cock press against his bed clothes.
He groaned, sitting on the side of his bed, willing his body to calm down.
He wasn’t going to fucking jack to Malfoy being abused and raped by Voldemort!
What would that make him?
He didn’t want to…
He didn’t…
He…
Harry went to take a cold shower.
Should help.
So he hoped.
He shivered under the cold water, but it did the trick. Calmed and shivering
from something other than fear. Harry sighed, afraid what would happen if he
closed his eyes.
The couple times he did, he felt more like himself, recognizing Draco’s fear
and pain in the dream.
Nightmare?
Harry shut the water off and dried off, deciding to find a book to distract him
instead.
Still, he had to wonder how he was going to face Malfoy when school started
again, or if they ran into each other sooner…
Either way, he kept reminding himself that it was just a dream.
It had to be just a dream.
Wasn’t it?
                                       #
At last, it was over.
Voldemort slid out of him. After another healing charm ridding him of the
markings that were printed onto his skin, Voldemort kissed the back of his
head.
“Goodnight, Beauty.”
Draco held his breath until certain that he was alone.
Once he was, he jumped out of bed and reached for the trash can, vomiting
again. He cleared the contents and grabbed some trousers to pull on as he
hobbled to the bathroom to brush his teeth.
He didn’t look at his reflection too much. It wasn’t someone he recognized
anyway.
The rest of the night, he couldn’t sleep, but there was one thing he had to
find out. One question he needed to ask, though he felt he knew – and feared –
the answer.
He barely slept the rest of the night, opting to read instead.
He started from the very beginning of The Tales of Beadle the Bard and by the
time the sun began to creep over the mountains and light the sky, he was over
three-quarters through the book of fairy tales.
Draco’s eyelids were heavy as he struggled to keep them open.
“Master Draco?”
He glanced at one of the elves.
“Is Master Draco feeling okay?”
“Erm…I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “I’ll be okay. Just…actually, I’ll have
breakfast here, in my room.” He said. “I don’t want to be…I don’t want to see
anyone right now.”
The elf bowed and apparated away.
Once again alone, Draco turned back to the book.
His vision blurred, impeding his ability to read.
He shut the book and sighed, deciding to try and sleep anyway. Draco paused,
staring at his bed. Healed or not, the blood staining the bed (as it had not
been stripped away for it’s now daily cleaning yet) drew him.
Draco’s stomach flipped.
He set the book down and raced to the bathroom, locking himself in as panic
roiled through him.
His mind was foggy.
His hands were sweating.
His heart was racing.
He could barely breathe.
He dared not move, even when he heard the elves in his room, cleaning up. He
could hear the ruffle of bed sheets – and the sniffling – on the other side of
the door.
“Draco?” Narcissa called, knocking on the door. “Honey, can I come in?”
“No,” he shouted more harshly than he intended. He winced. “No,” he said more
softly. “I’m okay.” Liar. He didn’t need his own mind judging him for not
wanting to face his mother.
“I was told you didn’t sleep last night.”
“Yeah. It was too hot,” he lied. Again. “I’ll be okay, Mum. Really, I will.”
Silence. As though she knew he was lying for her benefit. “Well, there’s some
breakfast on your desk. Eat what you can and then get some sleep. Whatever you
can, get. The elves are fixing your bed right now.”
He knew.
“Okay,” he called. “Thanks, mum.”
“Draco, sweetheart,” Narcissa said. “I’ll try to convince the Dark Lord to give
you tonight night off so you can sleep.” That helped his panic a little, even
if he couldn’t say she’d be successful.
“Can…can you also find out about how this will work when I’m at school?”
“Of course, Sweetie.”
Once alone again, he looked out, peeking into his room. No one was there. Not
his mother. Not his father, or any death eater. No elves.
Not even him.
His bed was clean, the sheets clean and white. Even a new duvet.
A plate of cereal and toast with a pitcher of milk awaited him. He decided to
send thanks to the elves for their foresight.
Or perhaps his mother guessed he wouldn’t want something too flavorful.
He ate the toast, cast a charm on the milk to keep it fresh, and climbed into
the clean bed. It smelt of summer. Not blood, not sweat. Fresh grass and summer
flowers.
Like Narcissa.
It gave him a little comfort. Enough, at least, to sleep…
                                       #
Harry carried three butterbeers to their table, careful not to drop them even
with Sirius wandering about, sniffing everything in sight.
“Snuffles, if you don’t stop I’ll trip,” he snapped at him.
Sirius gave him the canine equivalent of a deadpanned look then went back to
sniffing around the Leaky Cauldron and gaining pats and scratches where he
could, staying clear of Harry’s legs until he had set the drinks down on the
table he shared with Ron and Hermione.
He had debated telling them the dream, and had told Sirius first, who advised
that it might be best not to worry them more than necessary.
“After all,” he had said handing Harry a collar and a lead with some hesitance.
“It’s just a dream.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Harry said.
With that, Sirius transformed and let Harry put on the collar and hook the lead
to the metal ring.
Sirius had been a dog since, wanting to stay by him while they did their school
shopping, dutifully staying close and the epitome of a well trained pet dog as
they went from store to store for new supplies.
Now that Harry had taken his seat for lunch, Sirius sat by his feet, letting
Hermione scratch his head as they enjoyed their post meal drinks.
He even poked his head out to rest on her lap looking quite content as she got
behind his ears. They debated who the new defense teacher would be.
Someone worthy and experienced to teach the class?
Or would they have another teacher who would hurt their chances again.
“With You-Know-Who back, you’d think Dumbledore would be able to find a decent
teacher,” Hermione said. Harry agreed and hoped she was right.
But what if she wasn’t and Dumbledore wasn’t able to get them a good teacher?
What would they do?
Aside from the practicality of knowing Defense, this was their O.W.L.s year.
They needed a decent teacher in order to pass their tests at least.
Harry pointed all this out, wishing that Hermione hadn’t brought up OWLs in the
conversation. All that did was depress both him and Ron. Sirius licked his
hand, as though trying to assure him he’d be okay.
“Ew, Snuffles,” Harry groaned, wiping his slobbered hand on his trousers.
Sirius gave him an innocent look, wagging his tail.
Harry spied a hint of white in the dim light of the pub only to avert his gaze
again, face warm as Malfoy entered with his mother.
Please let it be a nightmare, he thought, trying to ignore the way he had
looked in the dream. Please let that just be a nightmare.
“You okay, Harry?” Ron asked. He glanced at his friends.
Shit.
They must have caught him turning from Malfoy too fast.
“Yeah. Just don’t want to be spotted by Malfoy,” he lied. They hummed,
accepting it.
After all, why would he be embarrassed to see Malfoy?
Sirius, though, stared at Harry, brown puppy eyes conveying his concern. He
whined and Harry scratched the top of his head, hoping it’d be enough to
convince him that he was okay.
Though, if he was ever to admit it, Harry felt far more disturbed by the dream
than he let on.
Harry excused himself to the loo and nearly bumped into Malfoy as he came out.
“Potter,” Malfoy sneered.
He tried to hide it, but his eyes were sunken and bore dark circles underneath.
His “greeting” lacked its usual bite. Even his skin wasn’t right – far too
sallow than the healthier snowy white.
“Am I allowed to leave or do you expect us to bow to you first?”
Harry stepped out of his way. “Sorry.”
Malfoy arched a brow at him, but strode by him.
Harry entered, hating how his hands shook.
Please, please, please let it just be a horrible nightmare.
***** ON HIATUS *****
So, what's going on is that I've been slammed with inspiration for another
story in another fandom. I've been writing that one in time with all the others
ones I'm writing at the moment. However, the level of inspiration I was hit
with it is beyond what I've had in a long time - and I was just writing
additions/backstory for it so...yeah.
I will be returning to this story when I can, but I just wanted everyone who is
reading this one know.
Thanks for understanding!
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!