This story contains fighting, murder, mentions of rape, self harm, drugs, gambling, slash and probably other thing in those directions - although nothing too explicit, this story is rated M for a reason. You have been warned.
I don't own Harry Potter yadayadaya.. My pockets are empty.
He thought he was free. Shit. He shouldn't have taken the deal. It had sounded to good to be true to begin with. Foolishly enough, he had forgotten his Slytherin side for a moment and bravely - like a Gryffindor dismissed his instinct and jumped at the chance. He had signed the contract. It was stupid, but, who wouldn't have? When the choice fell between five years in a hell hole named Azkaban or six months in a holding cell, helping the aurors catch the
last rogue Death Eaters and be rewarded with freedom and that one choice was obviously, oh so easily made.
It had been a mistake. He knew that now. He had portrayed six easy months, give up names, be questioned by Aurors, write down a statement or two and be done with it. All in civil ways. The reality had been different, sourly so.
The Aurors had torn through his mind to delve into his memories. Their legilimency skills weren't the best and due to their poorly executed tries, he ended up seeing a healer after every attempt. It had hurt, fucking much and fear for it became deeply instilled, thinking they were out on permanently damaging his mind. He had hated it, like he hated their questioning methods, shouting and demanding, glaring and slamming table tops if he didn't answer quick enough; Accusing him of lying, even though they had fed him Veritaserum before every round of questioning. They had often strayed from their line of questions, throwing in unexpected questions about his private life to embarrassing moments for fun, for them to have ammunition to torment him with; Uncovering those things that weren't their business in any way, shape or form while subjected at treatment too petty to belong in an adults life – especially that of an Auror. Yet they had done it and more. They had read his diaries and damaged them in the process. The information they had found, like everything else they uncovered, was used to humiliate him and it all tallied up to where he felt they had destroyed every sense of privacy he possessed. In the end, they even had gone as far as ransacking his house even though the property had already been cleared before and he had let them - going through it all in a vain hope that once the six months were over, he would be free.
He should've read the contract. He cursed himself every second to hell from the moment he learned of the consequences of his choice. However, he couldn't turn back time and now he would pay for it. Dearly, for the rest of his life.
He should've known there was a catch.
Six gruesome months spend in hell and the implication of his choice was too clear. Striped of his fortunes, his wealth. Striped of his home, his status and the cozy life he knew. His magic was bound and his wand snapped.
Exiled.