Authors Note: Hi! This is my first attempt at a really long fanfic. I have high hopes for it, and I hope you like it. Oh yes and I do not own Harry Potter or any of the associated characters. That's about it for now. Many thanks to my Beta for helping me make this such a lovely presentation! ^_^ (Last part of this chapter is particularly gruesome. You have been warned.)

Beautiful Pain

Chapter 1:

Suffering In Silence.

Brave. That was one of the first words you would use in describing Harry Potter. He had, after all, near single-handedly defeated Voldermort once and for all, at the end of his 6th year at Hogwarts. He'd charged straight through all the curse barriers, going through unending pain to reach the center ring of power and strike him down. He was unstoppable. He just kept going until it was finally over. The whole wizarding world had rejoiced non-stop for months on end, practically right up until the start of his very last year.

Harry had taken the train to Hogwarts on that faithful day at the start of term, traveling smoothly for once. After the death of Voldermort, Sirius was promptly cleared of charges and given a sizable sum of money as an "apology." Sirius wanted to scoff and throw it back on the face of the ministry but Harry had been itching to live with him instead of the Dursleys since even before the verdict was announced. The ministry helped them buy a nice little cottage just outside of London, just for the two of them. It was time for them to start being the family they'd barely been able to be for a large portion of their lives due to Sirius' Azkaban imprisonment and the war. They'd live together--- Harry could go to school peacefully and Sirius could finally break the retched curse on the DADA position by staying more than one year.

Yes, it was all over now, all their pain. The Boy-Who-Lived was looking forward to getting a well-deserved rest, when it happened. He woke up. Harry laughed at the total naïveté he'd possessed to ever think it could be over. Now, three months after the start of term, Brave was no longer suitable to describe him anymore, although he'd never admit it. No. It was never over, and he could take whatever the world dished out. That made him so much more than brave. There was no stopping it, there was no escaping it, and it would never, ever, end. He knew that now, and that meant only one thing. He could never stop fighting, never let them get the upper hand, and never ever let them see the truth. Smiling brightly and neatly dressed in his school robes, his new mantra "never let them see the truth" set firmly in place he began making his way down to the great hall for the lazy Saturday breakfast.

This morning, like so many others since some time near the beginning of term, Harry was late to breakfast. The first time, he had raised many questions. He'd stumbled in half an hour late with circles under his eyes, bruises and other markings on his neck, arms, and certainly other places that his robe did not show, and a fairly obvious limp. There was a flurry attack of questions, which he had little time to prepare for, but he was ready all the same. Bright smiles, contented air, blush, and stumble over your explanation a little. It was an easy enough plan. After seeing Harry's truly happy air all day long, it was not hard to imply the idea that he'd taken on a secret, if a little rough, lover at one point or another. He never stated the lie openly, but he never denied it. It was just another one of his pawns that made the game that much easier.

At first he really had been happy that he was fighting the good fight, and protecting the person he loved the most from the ministrations of a madman. That had hardly lasted the first month. The second month he was writhing and screaming inside his shell of utter bliss. And now, near the middle of the third month, he'd reached what he believed to be the final stage of his game psyche. There wasn't any sort of emotion left in him anymore. It was all numbness and nothingness. The only thing that kept his heartless, soulless shell functioning these days was the undeniable fact that if he did not keep it up, people would suffer and die. And that was simply not an option. Indeed, the boy who's every emotion had previously been readable in his eyes managed to hide it all, even from his closest friends… save one. They never saw him betray his role as a happy half of a halfway secret love affair. The only thing that they had to go on, the only thing that told them something was wrong was gut instinct.

Sirius Black had always believed that one would know that he'd always love his child (Harry in particular) when he'd see them for the first time. It was on a higher plane than mere words of love or spending quality time together. He knew that if Harry ever did get involved with anyone, he would want a soft and very loving relationship. He was not the kind of person to participate in any sort of casual or rough fling. He did not take matters of the heart lightly, especially sex.

Still Sirius kept his own council ---waiting for more substantial evidence than gut feeling for once in his life. He was waiting for his moment. The moment when either Harry or the evidence would present itself as soon as the time was right. From his current position, eyeing Harry and company carefully from the teachers table, sparse in teachers who were still sleeping in, he brushed his fingertips over the arm he'd nearly lost in the final battle due to his impatience. That had ingrained the lesson, if nothing else.

At the exact moment he was reminiscing, the object of his frustration happened to look his way. Sirius pulled his hand away from his arm and waved to Harry, smiling brightly. Harry, however, instead of returning the gesture just continued to stare straight ahead. It was almost as if he was seeing 'through' Sirius. That was… unnerving to say the least. The sheer emptiness in Harry's eyes at that moment was so unnatural it sent chills straight down Sirius' spine. Unable to stop the look of deep concern that spread over his face, softening to corners of his eyes, Sirius silently begged Harry to tell him what was wrong. What had caused such a look to pass over his eyes, even just once?

"That's it," Sirius thought forcefully after Harry had shaken his head off of cobwebs and returned to a conversation with the usual suspects, "I've waited three months and these stupid suspicions won't leave me alone. Considering how hard old habits die, I'd say it's a miracle I managed to last three months without jumping into something. Today, after breakfast, I'll corner him in the Gryffindor common room," Sirius said to himself, sparing Harry one last searching glance before returning to his own breakfast.

*************************************

A light tap on his shoulder brought Harry out of his internal monologue and after shaking off whatever odd sensations that had swept over him when he had looked at Sirius, he turned cheerfully to Fred. Fred was leaning towards Harry in a rather pushy manner, holding a fork in his hand as a pathetic excuse for a muggle microphone.

"So tell us Harry, inquiring minds want to know… who is this mystery lover of yours?" Fred leered a moment before Hermione dragged him nearly to the floor by his ear.

"Honestly Fred! Can't you let the bloody subject drop just this once? Harry's been here all but ten minutes and you've been grilling him for eleven!"

"Come on Herm! You of all people should notice that it's taken longer for Harry's love bites to heal. That can only mean it happens quite often. We only want to know who it is before the wedding!" George pleaded.

"Maybe you'll figure it out… if you're invited," Hermionie replied with a playful sneer.

"Well, if this is the respect we're going to get for spending our free Saturdays with our siblings, then maybe we should make other plans!" George scoffed in mock hurt.

"I'm with you there George!" Fred added, having finished his free breakfast as well.

They stood up from the bench, joined hands and with a snap of their fingers they'd apparated away somewhere. No one though, even for a minute, thought that they were really hurt, or that they'd actually left the school. They were too fond of getting cheap test subjects out of the unsuspecting students of Hogwarts for their next prank.

On the other hand, the rest of the Gryffindors had finally learned to trust, or at least not provoke Harry. If he had something to say, he would say it, especially if it was important.

"Those two'll never change," Ron sighed as he happily devoured his pancakes.

Both Harry and Hermionie nodded in unison before Harry spoke up again in his overly chipper tone. "Ron did I miss the owls again this morning?" he yawned loudly as he waited for Ron's reply.

It was a lovely act really. So very easy when you felt nothing, was nothing inside. George had been right though. It was happening more often, a lot more.

"Yup, sorry mate. Never worry though, I got a letter here for you," Ron added casually holding up a blank envelope marked only "HP" as though the person had used a muggle computer to do it.

"Thanks Ron!" Harry chirped swinging one leg on each side of the bench and tearing open his letter. He was not surprised. It was the same as always.

"Meet me in the Slaves' Circle at 7."

Harry looked down as though hiding a blush that wasn't there. He was late again. He was about to excuse himself when the invisible cursed necklace around his neck constricted sharply, as if to remind him of his appointment. Unable to talk, and hardly able to breath Harry smiled politely and simply waved to his companions as he glided smoothly away. Only once he'd exited the doors of the Great Hall did the contraption encircling his neck relax enough to allow air passage through his trachea. He used to flinch whenever it moved but ever since he learned to adjust to it, he'd had a wonderfully numb sensation washing over him that he hardly fluttered an eyebrow at it anymore.

With his typically happy expression, Harry walked, all but skipping, down a somewhat dimly lit hall. He looked both ways to make sure no one was around and disappeared under what had to be one of the oldest tapestries in the school and into one of the schools darkest sides ---long forgotten save by his evil master. The hallway behind the tapestry appeared from the exquisite nothingness that Harry had now adopted as his home and into the manifest creation of the deepest circle of hell. It stretched out for miles of long black marble at first glance, cold and hard to the world. Then, as he ventured expressionlessly deeper, the hallway reeked heavily with the stench of death and decay. Spiders, snakes and all other forms of deplorable creatures squirmed along the hard walls of the hall as if feeding off from the hatred radiating from the place alone. After eons in the hellish nothingness, he at last came upon two massive doors made of some off-white material he would not acknowledge as bones struck together. He paused, a reasonable distance away from the doors, bowing his head in habit of his visits. The massive, off-white doors creaked and rattled open slowly, ominously. Harry, without needing to look up, walked the required 13 paces into the very center of the Slave Circle. The room itself held marble darker, colder, and harder than the hallway. It was of a circular shape, with eight supporting pillars equally spaced around. The off-white doors slammed shut, echoing off the rooms and around the walls like the sealing of a tomb.

Well aware that he was not alone Harry stared down, properly ashamed, at the small red circle at the very center of the room that he told himself was real marble. In his state of non-feeling it was all he could bring himself to believe the spot was made off during the many times he'd lain upon it whimpering, adding his own blood to the massive stain.

"You're late again Potter," came a calm voice thick with malice and the promise of new worlds of pain, from within the rooms deepest shadows.

Dropping slowly to his knees, head still down, Harry spoke softly, humbly, not wishing to anger his master, "I am sorry Master. What can I say to make it up to you?"

Slow booted footsteps echoed through the Slaves' Circle as his master emerged into what could be called the lighter part of the dark room. Harry kept his eyes focused downwards refusing to acknowledge the various piles behind the pillars and in the shadows that were not bones and various petrified remains of victims as young as two.

"It is not with words, Potter, that you will repay me, but with your actions. Every single thing we've ever done in here shall be repeated to perfection with one new thing to top it all off."

Some time later, after various potion tests that made his skin crawl as though made of fire ants, blister and break ---that made him see and hear each screaming victim whose remains did not lie in the slaves circle ---that ripped apart and repaired his internal organs…. after a thorough beating and half healed broken bones… after the whips and chains and purging bowls… after flirting with death more times then he ever hand before combined… after all those atrocities --- that was when it really started to hurt. He had started to feel.

Harry Potter was slung, shackled to the black marble wall, unable yet to stand, a pool of red life-water falling down his now naked body, collecting at his feet. In the center of the Slaves' Circle he could hear shards of glass too tiny to be measured ---beings spread out in a thick bed for him to lie and writhe upon.

It had never been done to him before, but after three months in the Slave's Circle Harry no longer needed to guess the activities. It was as if the air hummed them to him when he began to feel….

Slowly a figure clad mostly in dragon hide, for protection against the glass, save the one part they'd need to really finish fucking with him, pulled Harry from his chains and across the marble floor to the bed of glass. He felt the smoothness of the dragon hide suit as his evil master settled on all fours above him. He felt a searing pain ripped through him as his master took him with one forceful thrust. He felt the glass embedding into his skin, so deep he doubted he'd ever be rid of it, as he was scraped back and forth with the force of his master's joining. He felt tears as he tried to focus on the ceiling of nothingness above. He felt a warm slick substance shoot across his stomach and deep within him. He felt his master rise, pushing off his chest, driving the glass deeper. He felt his blood and flesh of his back leaking down onto the shards. He felt his broken body sinking back into nothingness---quite grateful for it. It had only hurt when his master made him feel.

To be continued…

Authors Notes: Okay. Well, that wasn't so terrible, was it? Okay, okay I know it's one of the nastiest things I've ever written but trust me it will be well worth your while reading through it. ^_^ Until the next chapter! ^_^