Notes: For the 12 Days of Christmas Style Challenge [crack pairing] and for the Pick a List Competition.
Pairing: Harry/Dumbledore.
Warnings: Child abuse, magical coercion, abuse of authority.
"Come, child," the man's voice is gentle, as it always is, and I follow him obediently enough, past the stone gargoyles that seem to grimace in sympathy at me, up the winding stone staircase. Fawkes trills at me, but the sound howls with melancholy, and I wish I could stop up my ears.
"Lemon drop?" the Headmaster offers, and I accept, sliding the drugged sweet under my tongue. It makes it all the more palatable as the world blurs and I sway on my feet.
His words curl through my head, sticky and sick-feeling as he undresses me, pulls the robes from my shoulders, my trousers down to my ankles. You'll understand when you're older, child. It's for the greater good.
What greater good? I think bitterly, if a bit sluggishly. There is no greater good in this wrinkled, old man plucking me up and setting me on his bed, in his fingers caressing my body. There is no Wizarding World's saviour in the way his eyes greedily crawl over me as I cringe and wish I could melt into the bedspread.
You'll like it, but I never do. He spills himself on my stomach, and the feel of it makes me feel ill, so hot and clammy and sticky, like a melted toffee. The cleaning spell scours my skin, and I curl into a ball on the bed, wishing that he would go away, wishing that I'd never heard of Hogwarts or magic or Albus sainted Dumbledore.
"I'm sorry, my boy," he whispers sadly into my hair, pressing a damp kiss to the lightning scar etched into my forehead. "For everything."