Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10216604.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Draco_Malfoy/Fenrir_Greyback
  Character:
      Fenrir_Greyback, Draco_Malfoy, Lucius_Malfoy, Narcissa_Black_Malfoy,
      Voldemort_(Harry_Potter), Severus_Snape
  Additional Tags:
      noncon, very_much_noncon, Torture, Darkfic, 17-year-old_I_think, whatever
      Draco_is_summer_after_6th_year
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-03-11 Words: 2993
****** "Take Draco." ******
by RunSquidling
Summary
     Greyback let the Malfoys pick which of them will be his prize.
     Followup to Protecting Draco by iamisaac.
  This work was inspired by
      Protecting_Draco by iamisaac
Draco walked into Greyback’s… cellar? Basement? Dungeon? with his head held
high. His father had been returned to the hall, and as soon as Draco saw him,
he knew what was coming next. He’d gone straight to the door without being
asked. He had to get Greyback to leave with him immediately, before he changed
his mind, before Greyback took his father away again. Lucius wouldn’t survive
Greyback. Draco, at least, had a chance.
For all his faults, he loved his family.
“Don’t worry too much,” Greyback had said to Draco’s parents, his hand closing
around Draco’s upper arm. “The Dark Lord wants him in Hogwarts next year, so
you’ll get a chance to put him back together after I break him.”
Draco set his teeth as he was dragged down the halls. He would be okay. He
would survive. He passed the guards posted at the door to the room Greyback had
made his own, and felt faintly ashamed as he recognized both of them, just
their faces, from the meetings, but what was the point? His family was already
disgraced. This was his punishment for failing. Being observed wasn’t going to
make his shame any worse.
The slam of the door behind him was final. The guards could hear everything,
but they wouldn’t help him. Draco had been posted there, once, when Dolohov was
getting information out of a Ministry twerp, and he knew how this worked. He
kept his head up, and took a steadying breath. Greyback liked screaming. He
wasn’t going to give it to him until he had to.
“This is much better,” Greyback breathed, stepping up close to Draco. Draco
didn’t move; he kept his head high as Greyback’s twisted face pressed against
his neck, breathing in deep. “Delicious,” he growled. Draco could smell
Greyback’s unwashed hair, feel the scratch of his fingernails leaving red marks
on his arms. It was all he could do to keep from shuddering.
“Your father turned you in fast, didn’t he?” Greyback said, prowling a circle
around Draco. A hard, long-nailed hand gripped his ass, making him jump, but he
got himself under control. He was glad it was himself being grabbed. His father
had been through enough.
He couldn’t help that his heart was racing, though. Or that his palms were
sweaty and cold.
“I barely had him half an hour. It didn’t take much. I didn’t even hurt him.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Draco said. His voice, despite himself, shook.
“So cute.” Greyback, in front of Draco again, stepped forward, pressing himself
against Draco’s body. His hot breath wafted over Draco’s ear. “I just love
families.”
Greyback’s hand, gnarled and filthy, snaked inside Draco’s robes and down his
pants, and, despite himself, Draco pulled away. Greyback’s grip hurt. With
great effort, his breath ragged in his throat, Draco pulled himself together.
Stood still. Let himself be fondled.
He’d never been touched there before. He didn’t know if it would have been any
less awful if he had.
“I’m going to turn you,” Greyback said. “I haven’t been able to make a new
child for my pack in such a long time.” He was pouting, mopey, and his hand
squeezed Draco’s genitals like a stress ball. Draco kept in it, for now,
wincing and nothing else, but he didn’t know how much longer he could take
Greyback’s touch quietly.
“You’re a little older than I’d like, but,” Greyback shrugged. “Can’t be
helped. Still, the full moon is in three weeks.” Greyback released Draco’s
genitals, his hand darting backwards like a rat, his ragged-nailed finger
pressing sharply against Draco’s ass, and Draco shrieked and stumbled away, and
Greyback laughed at him.
“Like I said,” Greyback said, licking his finger. “Three weeks.”
“I have to go to school,” Draco gasped, his ass squeezed shut against the
phantom pain of Greyback’s nails. “They’ll notice, if I don’t come back. I have
to go back to school.”
“In three weeks… and two days.” Greyback approached Draco, who didn’t run,
somehow, and grabbed his chin. “I checked.” He planted a wet, meat-stinking
kiss on Draco’s lips, leaving him gagging.
Greyback knocked on the door, and was let out, to be escorted from the manor.
Only then did Draco feel safe enough to panic.
                                     -oOo-
At night, loaf of bread ignored by the door, Draco forced himself to think
about what was coming. Not the panicky, unstoppable thoughts he’d had that
afternoon, but conscious, careful thoughts, to prepare himself. He couldn’t
stop any of it. But he might be able to keep his head on straight, if he had a
plan. He might, if he was smarter than he really was, be able to mitigate the
damage. A little.
He knew about what Greyback liked to do. Between him and MacNair and Dolohov,
the Dark Lord had never lacked for torturers, and Draco had heard the reports
at gatherings. He would be raped, certainly, he may as well accept that right
now. He wasn’t as worried about that as he was about his face. The way people
looked when they came out of here…
He had to come up with something that would appeal to Greyback more than
destroying his face. He had to. Only, right now, he was still too afraid to
think.
And there was one more thing Greyback liked to do, when he was allowed. He
reached between his legs and held his genitals, gently, nausea threatening to
bring up the nothing left in his stomach. He might lose this, too. Voldemort
probably wasn’t invested in any further Malfoy heirs. Who would he be, if he
lost his face and his genitals and his humanity all at once?
He swallowed hard. Anything to protect his family.
                                     -oOo-
Miraculously, it was a week and a half before Greyback came back.
Even more miraculously, his mother managed to come see him in that time.
“Draco?” he heard from the door, while he was busy moping in the corner - after
several days, boredom was beginning to feel as torturous as he’d anticipated
the… well, the actual torture would be.
“Mom?” He leapt from the floor, his bare feet slapping on the stones as he ran
to her. She reached her fingers through the bars on the door, and he took them
in his hands, relieved and yet scared. “What are you doing here? Is dad okay?
How did you get them to let you-”
“Don’t worry about that,” his mother said sharply. One of the guards, Draco
noticed, wasn’t looking at them - and the other one seemed to be missing. Not
every Death Eater was as heartless as, well, Greyback.
“Are you okay? Has he…” His mother’s eyes searched what she could see of his
body, and Draco squeezed her fingers, trying to be comforting.
“I’m fine. Just hungry. He’s been gone, hasn’t he? Do you know where he went?”
His mother shook her head. “I thought he would hurt you before he left. It’s a
mission, that’s all I know. I’m so glad you’re okay.” She pressed her forehead
against the bars. He wished she could take him in her arms and kiss his head
like she used to; the dull strain of anticipation might, momentarily, go away.
“I’ll be okay, Mom,” he said. “I will. You heard him, he has to send me back to
Hogwarts after this. Mom, stop,” he said; Narcissa’s eyes were welling up.
“I’ll be okay. This isn’t forever. He has to give me back in one piece.”
Narcissa’s lips curled and her fingers squeezed his until they hurt. “I won’t
let this happen,” she choked. “We don’t deserve this,  you  don’t deserve this,
he gave you a task he  knew  you would fail just to punish your father and I
will not  allow my son to be tortured in my own house, understand? Do you
understand? I will  stop this . I’ll-”
“Mom, stop it! Really, I’ll be fine, he has to send me back, right? The Dark
Lord won’t let him hurt me too much.”
She turned her eyes away.
For the first time, his heart stuttering in his chest, he realized Greyback
might not have been telling the truth about that.
“Narcissa,” the guard who had been standing politely far from them said.
“Time’s up.”
                                     -oOo-
Days, and another week passed. The moment Greyback came in, Draco would have
accepted years of boredom to keep him out.
“I had business,” Greyback said as they were locked in together. “I’m happy to
say that our pack will grow by more than one this month.”
Draco didn’t have anything to say to that. He didn’t really care about some
random kid he didn’t know being turned into a werewolf. He’d never been
particularly compassionate towards strangers, and right now, he had no emotions
to spare.
“The anticipation has been… delightful. I thought about you every night I was
gone. I have so many plans…” Greyback drew a long, jagged silver knife from his
belt. “I don’t  need  this, you know,” Greyback said, approaching Draco with
it. His legs were weak. He was pretty sure, if he’d ever experienced real pain
in his life, he would already be screaming, but his ignorance gave him
something that looked like courage.
“But it’s spelled. I like this knife in particular because it has a very
special healing effect. Any wounds made with this knife won’t fester - so I can
leave you bleeding here for, well, for as long as I want, really. I can rub you
with any kind of filth, and it won’t kill you.” He smiled his cracked yellow
smile, grabbed Draco by the hair, and pressed the knife tip against Draco’s
side. There was pressure. And then, agony.
A scream gathered inside him, but the shock of being stabbed, when he’d
expected some… some buildup, some slow start, locked his voice inside him. He
fell into Greyback’s arms. His legs wouldn’t hold him anymore.
Greyback pulled the knife out, dropped it clattering to the floor, and then
wormed his filthy fingers into the hole in Draco’s side.
Then, he screamed.
He’d thought it would take longer than this.
                                     -oOo-
Greyback had gone too far with the stabbing. Greyback knew what he was doing,
had missed Draco’s vital organs, but even still Draco had gone white and
stopped breathing. Snape had to be called to save him. Or so Snape told him,
when he came back to consciousness.
He’d learned true fear, in those few seconds of agony, and when he saw Snape’s
face above him he’d grabbed his cloak and begged to be taken away.
“Draco, stop it,” Snape said, disentangling Draco’s fingers. He looked like he
wanted to lecture Draco, but something held him back.
“Please don’t leave me here, please, Professor, don’t-” Draco’s clawed hands
reached for Snape’s robes again. Snape pulled out his wand and cast a wordless
full-body bind on him. He got up off the floor, and brushed dust off his robes.
Only a furtive glance at the door betrayed that he cared about Draco’s pleas.
Draco had never felt more helpless. He couldn’t suffer through that again, he
wasn’t as strong as he thought he was, but if Snape wasn’t going to help him,
nobody was.
“Here,” Snape said, crouching quickly, and uncorking a vial he’d slipped from
his robes and held it to Draco’s lips. The hot, soft, thick liquid seeped into
his mouth and was gone before he could swallow. His mouth felt oddly cottony.
“This will help, some.” Snape hurriedly tucked the vial back into his robes and
stood. "If he goes to far again, I’ll… do what I can.”
He looked down at Draco, pityingly, which was strange to see on Snape’s face.
The full body bind was still in place. All Draco could do was stare.
                                     -oOo-
He had a day’s respite before Greyback arrived again, limping and grumpy and
knifeless. Draco cowered in a corner, knowing it was useless, unable to do
anything else. All his bravery had gone so fast.
It was for his father. His father would be dead already, if Draco hadn’t been
here instead. It was for his father.
Draco didn’t know how he felt about that anymore.
Greyback looked at him, and growled. “You got me punished, you little brat,” he
said, bending over and yanking Draco to his feet by his hair. “I was just doing
what they told me to do, and they punished me. I’m done playing. The game isn’t
fun if I’m the one getting hurt. Stand.” He shoved Draco’s face against the
wall, rough stone scratching his cheek, and only through sheer force of terror
did Draco manage to stay standing. He didn’t want to find out what would happen
if he disobeyed.
He heard the rattle of Greyback’s belt coming undone, and tried to relax. It
wouldn’t hurt as much if he could relax.
Greyback’s arms wrapped around Draco’s waist, ripping his shirt, undoing his
belt, tearing off his trousers and pants in one motion. Little scratches
bloomed red on Draco’s pale skin, and he worried - what happened when you were
scratched by an untransformed werewolf? It was a reflexive worry, and faded
quickly. It didn’t matter. He would be bitten in a week anyway.
He wondered if his father would still love him when he was a werewolf.
“Were you going to do this to my father, too?” Draco asked, trembling,
distracting himself. Greyback grunted a deep laugh. Then fire poured down
Draco’s back as the buckle end of Greyback’s belt came down on his spine.
A choked half-scream tore from his mouth. He wondered what the hell Snape’s
potion had done, if he still hurt like this. The belt hit him again. His knees
buckled.
“Stand,” Greyback ordered. Struggling, Draco made it to his knees, but no
higher.
“Your father didn’t… even… try,” Greyback said, punctuating his words with
strikes. Draco could hear his own screams echoing around the room like they
were coming from someone else.
“You know what I told him I would do?” Greyback said, dropping the belt on the
floor and settling behind Draco, his forearm across the back of Draco’s neck
pressing him against the wall. “All I said was, all I had to do, was threaten
his precious manhood, and he gave you up. I didn’t even hurt him. I just took
his bits in one hand and my knife in the other and…” Greyback thrust forward
with a grunt, but Draco was clenched so tight in fear that it wouldn’t go in.
Greyback spat on his fingers and tried again. “...he said to take you.”
Nothing felt real. His body felt strangely cottony. It still hurt, and he was
still screaming, still begging Greyback to let him go, but it was like he was
reacting in a dream. He wondered how it would feel to be a werewolf. He
wondered if he would be stronger, if he wasn’t human. He wondered how long it
would take to bite Greyback to death.
Greyback left him on the floor when he was done, kicking his torn clothes into
the corner.
The cottony feeling faded with the pain. Some of his memories were, already,
too fuzzy to touch. His mouth was very dry. There was blood oozing down his
legs and he didn’t really care.
He wondered how long Snape’s potion would last. He was willing to provoke
Greyback to get more, if he had to.
                                     -oOo-
Greyback visited him many more times before the full moon. He broke Draco’s
ribs. He cut up Draco’s face when he got his silver knife back. Draco hurt so
much, all the time, that the soft, cottony feeling never faded.
And then it was the night of the full moon. And his father came. It was just
like his mother: a soft “Draco,” and fingers through the bars, and searching
eyes seeking out Draco’s hurts. His ribs, stabbing him with every breath, kept
him enveloped in the soft numbness of Snape’s potion, and Draco was unable to
feel any shame. Or any love.
“I’m sorry, Draco, I’m sorry, I wanted to take it back, I… Merlin, what have I
done.” Lucius was reaching for Draco through the bars, barely holding back a
breakdown. From his place on the floor, Draco stared. “You said he’d still be
able to go back to school,” Lucius said, accusingly, over his shoulder. “You
said someone vouched for him, but he… he… look at him, look at his  face , what
has Greyback done?”
Draco dragged his sluggish eyes away from his father. The Dark Lord, red eyes
narrowed in delight, gazed down at Lucius.
“He’ll be fine,” The Dark Lord’s high voice said. “Relatively. The wounds will
heal like they were never there. Greyback follows the rules… generally. Draco,
answer your father’s question.”
Draco, stumped, stared owlishly at the Dark Lord, before he remembered what his
father had asked. But he didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t have the words.
He looked away from them both, confused, intimidated. He turned around entirely
and faced the wall instead. Maybe they would go away if he ignored them.
“You don’t have to do this,” his father said, his voice shaking, the Dark
Lord’s high, screechy laugher drowning him out as he tried, inexpertly, to beg
for his son. “I’ve learned my lesson, I-”
“Stop embarrassing yourself, Lucius. You’ve already shown us who you really
are.” There was a swish of robes, and the Dark Lord’s voice fading as he walked
out of the hall. “Come, Lucius. You’ll have him back in the morning.”
It would all be over in the morning. That was a thought powerful enough to
reach him through the numbness. He didn’t care anymore that he wouldn’t be
human. He had learned his lesson. He would have the strength, tomorrow, to
become the murderer he had once failed to be.
After tonight, Greyback would never touch him again.
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