Here it is. Warning you now, it's much darker and there's going to be a bit more angst and a lot less hot, steamy consensual sex for quite some time. For those of you who like Snape, I apologize, I rather adore him myself but I just felt like making him a bastard in this story. I'll make up for it one of these days.

Summary: When Draco's world begins to fall apart he finds relief in the most unlikely sources, will Ron be able to help him before it's too late?

Warnings: Rape, Violence, MxM, Mature Language, Self Abuse

Disclaimer: I do not, nor do I claim to, own Harry Potter or any of it's characters or the places in the books. Merely my own plot and sadistic habit of tormenting her amazing characters

Enjoy~

XxDess


He couldn't understand to save his life why, of all people, it had to be him. He'd gotten over the fact he fancied boys ages ago, but why did it have to be this one? A pale hand cradled his forehead as a disgruntled groan passed his lips. The Hall was filled with loud noises, the sounds of forks scraping on plates, chattering teens, and laughter. His head swirled as heavy lids fell to protect his eyes. Though the image that haunted him still burned itself neatly into his thoughts, making him grimace.

Though not nearly as bad as the pair of arms that snaked around his shoulders and the rancid breath that brushed against his neck, nor the voice, a thousand times worse than anything he'd ever heard that he could never seem to get used to.

"Drakey, what's the matter?" Cooed the owner of those arms, slathering his cheek in sloppy kisses, making him cringe and glance over at Blaise with pleading, half-lidded eyes. His friend just smirked and shrugged, glancing the other way with a snort. Slowly he turned to the pug-faced girl with a grimace, narrowing his eyes as he attempted to pry her fingers from his arm, glowering.

"Bugger off, Pansy," He hissed with a malicious tone, gritting his teeth. She stared up at him with wide eyes, pouting just a bit with quivering lips. He shoved her off without a second glance and clambered to his feet, knocking Blaise upside the head as he went. Draco could've killed the boy, but instead he just took off as fast as his feet would take him without losing his grace; he'd never let these people see him as anything less than perfection.

Once he was alone in the corridors he relaxed, shoving his hands in his pockets and running a hand haphazardly through his hair and loosening his uptight attire. If father could have seen him in such a state he'd be disgusted; hair ungreased and disarrayed, dress shirt untucked and collar up, tie undone. He looked nothing like the proud, pure-blooded aristocrat he was supposed to be. He looked nothing more than common, shameless trash. He slumped down towards the dungeons, the thought of a comfortable bed and solitude driving him forward.

His hopes were shattered when a strong, pale hand caught him by the front of his shirt and he was forced forward into the dank, empty potions room. It reeked of the many ingredients that'd been cut up and brewed throughout the day. Though he was barely aware of the stench, his eyes were locked -wide with confusion and a bit of fear- on a set that glinted in the dark room like beetle's eyes. His brow furrowed, staring up at the Potions Master with a slightly tilted head. For a long moment there was nothing but silence, until finally Snape's crisp, smooth voice broke through;

"What are you doing down here so early, Mister Malfoy?" His lip curled as he said this, his own head moving slightly to one side as he leaned a little closer, waiting for the small blond to speak. Even after two years with him Draco was still a bit unnerved by his presence.

"I.." Draco's voice shook and he took a breath, straightening up as best he could and attempting to look smug and unshaken, giving Snape what he hoped was a proud, uncaring smirk, "I was heading back to my dorm, Professor. Is that against school rules now?" He asked coolly, raising a thin brow. Snape scowled, slamming Draco mercilessly into the wall behind him, narrowing those dark, malicious eyes. A shiver ran down Draco's spine as the taller man leaned in closer, sneering down his hooked nose.

"I won't tolerate rudeness, Mister Malfoy," He hissed darkly, when the quivering blond opened his mouth to retort he instead let out a pitiful yelp at the feeling of a set of teeth against his throat, nipping and biting painfully. Pinching and tearing at the skin without remorse or mercy. He tried to shrink away only to have his back pressed more firmly the cold stone wall, whimpering with wide silver-blue eyes.

"Sir, I-I just wanted to-""Quiet, Draco. You'll hold your tongue until I say elsewise, or lose it." He barked against the pale neck-which was now bleeding slightly-. Draco felt tears prick the corners of his eyes, though he wanted to be angry and yell or throw insults towards him for the way he was being treated he was too scared of the way those eyes were staring him down. Trying to pretend it wasn't happening he squeezed his own eyes shut tight, feeling something curling around his wrists, binding them to his sides. His voice was caught in his throat, he couldn't help but feel disgusted with himself when a cold, rough hand found its way under his untucked shirt and ran across his stomach. As his trousers fell to his ankles the first tear slipped out from his eyes, betraying him, taking shuddering breaths to keep himself from screaming he willed the tears to stop, for Snape to release him.

The whole ordeal went on for so long Draco lost count of time; he barely registered the pains that rocketed throughout his body, the hot tears leaking shamefully from his eyes and soaking his face, the number of times his lips were used. He simply went blank, sobbing occasionally but altogether was very quiet, he felt he would be sick if Snape didn't stop some time soon.

Draco whimpered when he felt, for what seemed the millionth time, the older man fully sheathe himself within the blond's once untainted entrance, his fingers balling themselves knuckle-deep in that blond hair. It was full of sweat and Snape's sin, he wondered if he'd ever be able to wash off what was happening to him as his own hands curled into little fists on the cold floor. His insides felt as though they were on fire as, once again, a disgusting grunt escaped the man above him and he was filled. Upon his release the frail boy fell to the floor, quivering and curling into a ball, sobbing and hugging himself with tightly shut eyes. He was getting a headache from how often he'd done that throughout the process. When robes were tossed carelessly over his side he took a harsh, shaking breath and opened his eyes a sliver to see the Potions Master dressing himself and snapped them shut again in revolt.

"Get up." Snapped the man, walking away, Draco barely heard the words, "Scourgify," but felt his skin was now untainted and dry, once he felt himself able to he opened his eyes, quivering weakly and forcing himself to his feet. He mechanically dressed himself, blankly staring at the ground; he felt a sickly cold air wash over him and his tongue curled in on itself. It made him shudder, but as quickly as the sensation had hit him it was gone and he was nervously glancing over at the man who had ridiculed, abused, and used him. He was smiling widely, like he was proud, and tucking his wand away with a snort. Draco's face grew hot with renewed hate, but paled with the same terror that had been building from the moment the man had forced him into the room.

"Oh, you didn't think I was just going to allow you to walk away and tell the world what happened, did you Mister Malfoy? How ever could we continue these little meetings if I was found out?" He chuckled lowly at the look of shock evident in Draco's features. He gave a visible shudder at the way Snape said his name, pronouncing every letter with a disgusting hiss. "Now get out. It's nearly curfew, wouldn't want to be doing detentions, would you?" He cocked a brow with that smile that Draco was sure he'd never be able to look at again without running to the lavatory to fill the closest toilet with his sick.

At the words the blond was running, shirt half-way unbuttoned, untucked, tie left behind, trousers unbuttoned, his trainers untied, looking a right mess. But the moment he was alone he regretted moving so fast. Pain shot white-hot throughout his legs and lower back. He was amazed to find he still had enough tears in his reserves to offer their indulgences to his agony. He barely managed to limp towards the entrance of the common room and hiss out the password before collapsing onto the closest couch. His face buried into the arm chair as he sobbed, curling into the fetal position once again and holding himself.

"Draco?" The sobbing boy jumped at the sound of his name, landing painfully on his aching backside, the cold hard floor causing him to yelp and jerk upright. He was far too traumatized to straighten his appearance up and pull on the calm and collected façade he usually wore so well. He refused to look at Blaise, who squatted next to his crumpled form with a sigh. Though when he moved to put a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder it was shoved away and he was on his feet with wide eyes. The anxious boy narrowed his own, examining Draco with a frown, he was covered in bruises and bite marks, his eyes were swollen and red, bloodshot to the point their icy irises were practically glowing. Blaise slowly took a seat on the couch, brows furrowed, quietly waiting for the other to sit as well.

Eventually Draco gave in but situated himself as far against the arm as possible, Blaise noted that as he placed himself on the couch he went even paler than before and his face contorted with pain. "What-..What happened to you?" He asked quietly, not daring to touch him again, he was shocked when he heard the boy's voice. It was so unlike him, broken and afraid, shaky and choked,

"What the fuck does it look like Blaise?" He hissed darkly, hugging himself and burying his face in his knees, rocking slightly back and forth. His friend looked taken aback, staring at his hands as he tried to force himself to ask the question he dreaded knowing the answer to. There were so many swimming around in his head he had no idea where to begin and Draco took his silence as something more than it was. "Wish you wouldn't have asked now, huh?" He asked quietly, not moving his face, so his voice was muffled, "Don't bother asking Blaise. I couldn't tell you who did it if I wanted to." He forced himself to his feet, glaring hotly at the boy and forcing himself up the painstakingly long set of stairs that led him to his comfortable four poster bed.

He crumbled once he was underneath the covers, sobbing silently into his pillow and clawing at his skin in a frenzied attempt of discarding all the clothes he was wearing. Disgusted by them, the very idea that they were touched by those damning hands was enough to make him sick. Once he got the energy to, he rose from his bed and re-dressed, kicking the discarded clothing to the farthest corner of the room with a scowl.

As he lie awake, staring hopelessly at the top of the curtains that surrounded his bed and hid him from the world he felt nostalgia at the thought that merely hours ago his biggest concerns had been an obsessive ex girlfriend and being in love with a boy he was supposed to hate. He even managed weak, humorless chuckle thinking back on it. It was like looking at someone else, someone who didn't have a real worry in the world. A fool who thought a name and a well respected father were the only things that he needed to keep himself protected. At the thought an immense urge to cause himself pain washed over him. To make it all go away for good, but he didn't have the energy to move and gather a weapon, something to inflict this pain with. He sustained himself eventually with raking his sharp nails down his frail and bruised wrists. They were torn and tattered from clawing at the floor and walls. He didn't stop this process until deep scratches and whelps trailed from the palms of his hands to the base of his shoulder. Tiny pin-pricks of blood dotted the angry red wounds that tainted his otherwise perfect, pale skin. For the longest time he picked at a few of the miniscule wounds, daring to deepen them, make them more serious. He wanted more than this.

That was the night Draco Malfoy lost himself for good and found his only relief in the dark red crimson blots that smeared themselves across his skin. His only release to keep his crumbling mind from completely unhinging would be to take his hate out on himself. As he began to fall asleep he feared the day to come, feared waking, but more than that feared what would greet him behind closed eyes.