Second chapter up!
Nox In Aeternum Est
Rated: M
Summary: Harry Potter is depressed. He's already lost Sirius, what else could go wrong? Apparently a lot. Warning: will contain rape, torture, language, and SLASH. Dark Harry. Eventual HP/LV, still working out the details. Do not read if you can't handle it. You have been warned, I expect no flames. This is my first story, so constructive criticism would be nice.
Chapter 2
Harry awoke with a groan. His head was throbbing unpleasantly. He had greatly preferred being unconscious. At least when he was out he didn't have to think or feel. But he was awake now, and he needed to figure out what predicament he had gotten himself into this time. So, Harry began to assess his situation. The first thing registered was excruciating pain. Though used to waking up with painful welts, he was slightly concerned about the state his back was currently in. Blood had long since dried over his wounds, but because no one had cleaned them before they closed, they had become infected. Harry shifted, gasping as his shirt rubbed against his inflamed back. That was not good. Harry didn't know any healing magic, let alone wandless healing magic. He was going to have to suffer until someone either healed him or he died.
Trying to make himself as comfortable as possible, Harry noted that he was indeed chained to the wall. Shackles tightly bound his wrists and ankles, however, the chains were long enough that he could almost lay down. It could be worse, he supposed, they could have given him less room to manuever. Harry gave one of the chains an experimental tug. No luck there. The anchor remained firmly embedded in the wall.
The room Harry was in was pitch black, but for a small crack of light coming from underneath what appeared to be the only door. As Harry's eyes adjusted he saw that he was in a basement or dungeon of some sort. The walls were made of dark grey blocks of stone. Pipes ran across the ceiling, every so often dripping their contents onto Harry. Harry hoped that it was water.
Finding his situation to be quite grim, Harry let his mind wander. There was no point planning an escape. If Dumbledore couldn't...no, more accurately, wouldn't save him from his uncle, he wasn't going to save him now. Dumbledore must have had ways of knowing what went on in the Dursley household. Afterall, wasn't he the most powerful wizard the Light side had? Harry found it hard to believe that Dumbledore couldn't have stopped a muggle. No, thought Harry, Dumbledore must have known what was happening and chose to ignore it. Even if Dumbledore himself couldn't have made it in time, he could have sent a member of the Order to stop Vernon, had he cared to. Hell, Kingsley Shacklebolt had been right outside the house. But no one had come Harry's rescue.
Harry wasn't willing to continue with that line of thought. He couldn't bear the thought that his protector hadn't cared enough to save him. He just wanted to sleep. His mind couldn't process the events prior to his capture. He was physically and mentally at his limit. And so, Harry allowed himself to sleep.
He was back in his room at the Dursleys. Hedwig was hooting softly. Harry strained to listen.
"Harry..."
Harry turned around looking for the voice only to find Hedwig. He walked over to her cage.
"Hey there girl," Harry said softly, opening the door to her carrier.
"Harry," said Hedwig, her face morphing into uncle Vernon's. His face was blue, his eyes were vacant. "What have you done?" the thing screeched, flying at his face.*
Harry fell back onto the bed in alarm only to find the thing was gone. Harry breathed a sigh of relief.
"Boy!"
'No' Harry thought, panic rising in his throat, 'No, this can't be happening again!'
Vernon Dursley burst his way into the room.
"Shirt off!"
"No!" Harry screamed "You can't do this to me! I won't let you."
"You don't have a choice."
Harry suddenly found himself naked, face down on the bed once more. His uncle was thrusting into him, over and over again. Harry was once again filled with a sensation of rage. When the knife appeared in his right hand, he didn't even think to question how it had gotten there. Nor did he question how he managed to throw his uncle off of him. All he could think about was the satisfaction he felt when he slid the knife into his uncle's fat belly. The pleasure he experienced as Harry ripped the knife through his uncle's stomach, watching as the man struggled to hold his intestines in, failed, and died.
Harry started awake. Footsteps alerted him to the fact that he had company.
"Well well, looks like Potter's finally awake. Alert the Dark Lord."
Harry remained silent. He recognized the voice as belonging to Lucius Malfoy.
"Lumos."
Suddenly, a bright light filled the room. Harry shut his eyes in pain.
"Come now Potter, I haven't even done anything yet. Open your eyes." Harry caught the implied threat and slowly tried to open his eyes. What he saw made him want to shut them again.
He was in a dungeon-like room, as he had perceived before. However there were certain things he had missed when the room was still dark. Like the knife collection to his left. Or what looked like various instruments of torture hanging on the wall to his right. Harry dearly wished to go back to sleep.
Lucius sighed. He really didn't want to dirty his hands. He preferred the more delicate work being a Death Eater offered, like politics. Still, the Dark Lord had specifically requested that he do this. As his loyal servant, he had to obey.
Lucius walked over to the Potter boy. He had been told the boy was in bad condition. He soon found the problem - the boy's shirt was sticking to him in the back, dark with old blood. Lucius sighed again. This was going to be messy.
Harry had remained calm as Lucius Malfoy had walked over to him and examined his blood stained back. However when Lucius pulled a large dagger out of his robes, Harry started to panic. Harry did the only thing he could do while defenseless and unable to run; he curled himself into a ball and prayed that he wasn't about to be stabbed to death.
"On your knees Potter, I'm not going to kill you. Only the Dark Lord has that privilege."
"That's sooooo reassuring Malfoy," Harry said sarcastically. But he did as he was told. He should have known it would be a mistake.
Lucius lifted up the boy's shirt. He ran the dagger's tip down Harry's back. "Potter, hold still. If you move, you'll only make it worse." And with that, Lucius began to cut away at the scabs on Harry's back, letting his wounds bleed anew. Harry had to bite his lip to keep from screaming. Lucius didn't seem to notice; he was quietly humming as he scrapped the dried blood off of Harry's back.
Harry nearly sobbed in relief when he no longer felt the blade. Blood dripped slowly down his back. He didn't notice when Lucius pulled a plastic bottle from his robes.
Lucius opened the bottle of rubbing alcohol. Yes, he had been told to "take care of the boy's wounds in the most painful way you can think of," but he despised having to do such dirty work himself. He sighed once again. It wasn't his place to question his master's orders, not matter how...unpleasant they were to carry out.
Harry's relief was short-lived. When Lucius poured the rubbing alcohol onto his back he couldn't help it. He screamed. His back felt like it had been lit on fire. Tears came pouring out. Harry was barely conscious by the time Lucius was carefully wrapping gauze around his injuries.
"It's over Potter," Lucius said softly.
Harry promptly fainted.
*In some cultures owls are considered the harbingers of death and illness.
I know I'm having Harry pass out a lot so far, but really, doesn't he pass out constantly in the books?
Sorry that this is a lot shorter than the last chapter, I can always add a scene if you guys think it's too short. Let me know!
