Title: Haven

Rating: R

Pairing: Harry/Draco

WARNING: SLASH, which means two boys engaging in a sexual relationship.

Summary: Harry gets Caught. Raped. Beaten. Abused. Goes insane…and gets rescued. How will his friends cope with Harry? How will Harry cope with Harry? Especially when he meets his old captors again…

Disclaimer: Not mine. I just run off with them and torture them horribly.

Author's Note: A BIG thank you to everybody reviewing, whether for the first, second or third time -it means a lot that you guys are sticking by me, andawaiting new chapters. Very busy with Revelations as well, but itlooks like Seven Wonders will get a whole revamp before I post Revelations. Also working on a new Haven chapter, it should be out after I post allthe existing ones (obviously).

REVIEW: You people inspire me. It's appreciated. But if you don't…there's not much I can do, eh?

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Chapter Three: Exeunt Left

Severus Snape walked up the steps to the floor where the Boy-who-Lived was supposedly residing. Already in the distance he heard heart-wrenching screams and they only increased in volume as he came nearer.

Unbeknownst to himself, he began walking faster until he stopped in front of a portrait that simply wouldn't move. The screams just kept going and going - an endless litany of a wild animal in terrified, terrified pain and they were awful to listen to. But the Potions master couldn't do anything else, and so he listened.

A shiver went down his back.

"THIS IS RIDICULOUS! WHAT'S WRONG WITH HIM?" A healer next to Gustave Coriander was covering his ears, and the little trainee witch they had was fleeing from the room in tears.

Harry Potter was writhing on the bed and nobody could understand what was wrong with him. They had come in as he started screaming and he didn't recognise any of them, flailing with his hands so wildly that he had to be lifted and tied to the hospital bed. This however had only resulted in more keening, high pitched cries, and it was terrible to watch as the Boy-who-Lived wasn't doing too good a job at it right now.

His eyes had rolled to the back of his head and convulsion after convulsion rolled through his body, making it shoot off the bed only to be snapped back as the restraints kicked into action. As Coriander watched he knew he couldn't take much more of this - and the way Harry was abusing his vocal cords would do no good to his recovery.

"HARRY! HARRY it's me - Healer Coriander?" The screams diminished slightly, then stopped and a soft whimpering started instead. The healer walked forwards and waved his hands in front of Harry's eyes.

"Harry? Harry do you recognise me?" A dull look had settled in Harry's eyes and although he wasn't fighting the restraints the way his teeth abused his bottom lip told anyone who cared to know that the boy was in distress.

"Harry…do you know who I am?" But Harry didn't answer, finally biting through his lip and drawing blood, which he lapped up with a pained expression. With a sign from Coriander, the other healer released the restraints and Harry shot off the bed into a corner, where he rocked himself to and fro.

The two men were left staring at the pitiful scrap of human flesh that was crouching as low as possible and as far away from them as the room would let him. With a hopeless look, the other healer turned to Coriander.

"I thought I heard you saying he wasn't all that bad?" Gustave shook his head.

"He…he wasn't. But he was only awake for a little…it didn't seem like there was anything…serious."

The small witch came back in with red eyes, and stared sorrowfully at Harry huddled in the corner.

"Sir?" They turned to her.

"There's a gentleman outside wanting to speak with you, sir?" He nodded and with a last look at Harry she scurried away, followed by the other man. Coriander was left looking at his patient with a thoughtful glint in his eye, and after making sure the window was tightly closed - how was it open anyway, the boy possessed no wand - he left.

Harry slowly unfurled himself as the last shoes left. They were leaving, going away, outside, outside…out the window. Creeping up to the glass, he saw his familiar sitting on a branch outside. His hands traced her frame onto the glass and he felt a feeling of peace wash over him.

His hand, which had been clenched so tightly his fingernails had made scars in his palm, opened slowly and the crumbled piece of…parchment rolled out. Everything was fuzzy and Harry was certain that there was something missing from his face if only he could tell himself what.

He smoothed out the paper and looked inquisitively at the intriguing swirls of blue. Harry wanted him to read out loud so Harry did.

"D…ea…r…Dear Ha…r…r…y. Dear Harry." Harry. That was him, how did they know where to find him? Who had written this letter?

"Harry look at the end." He told himself, and turned the rumpled piece over. Mumbling the words to himself, and squinting, he thought he made out an O and an R and maybe an N.

"O…R…R…O…N. Ron." Ron? What was that? He'd never heard of that before, had he? Something was persistently ringing a large bell in his head. Ron. It was a name…someone's name–"

The door opened and shoes stepped into the room. Harry immediately tensed and with his back to the door, folded the piece of paper several times before turning around.

There was a man in front of him, tall and thin, a large nose that looked like it had been broken. Harry's nose had been broken. Looking at the man now, Harry reached his hands up to his own nose and was relieved to find it still there.

"Harry still has his nose." He told the other man, and watched as cold eyes narrowed in confusion.

"What's that Potter?" The name was spat out, and Harry was puzzled. Was that a rhetorical question? Who or what was Potter?

"Harry apologises. He has no fucking clue what you're talking about." Harry blinked. Well, that wasn't quite what he had wanted to say, but it seemed somehow the link he that so desperately needed from his torn mouth to his messed up mind was missing.

The man's mouth got an unpleasant curl to it and he sneered at the boy still sitting on the floor.

"A very silly and childish attempt to throw me off course, Potter. Just because you are in St. Mungo's does not give you any excuse to act rudely towards a teacher. 75 points from Gryffindor."

Harry's head was hurting hurting and he didn't understand this man and all he wanted to do was to be left alone with his parchment Dear Harry from Ron whatever that was but this man had to leave now.

"Leave." It was a simple, clear command. Severus Snape was shocked - Potter hadn't even reacted to the point loss. There was something…

"Potter give me that in your hand." Harry looked around and got onto the bed and wanted to go to sleep because there was only him and Harry there. No. Just Harry. But…if there was only Harry then who was he? He was Harry…but who was the other Harry then?

Suddenly the man stepped forward and snatched the parchment from Ron from his hands and it was his his his his his his Dear Harry it said so it said so - he read it it was his it belonged to him….

"MINE." The man looked pleased and walked out of the door.

"Not anymore. See you later, Potter." And Harry remembered what it was like to hate to loathe someone to feel anger and pure destruction and he hated that man with his once broken nose he knew he did and he couldn't put his finger on it but he knew that man deserved to die. Fury coiled in Harry but he knew not now, not now, wait he needed to wait so he suppressed it but it was still there watching waiting for time. Time.

His hands are in front of his face now, furiously gesturing and he doesn't know why, he doesn't know why, and wet liquid rolls down his nose and he remembers this…this is sadness and he just doesn't understand why. Why is there no link - why are there things he doesn't remember and why is he so so so so so sad that he needs tears - why is there grief within him?

Coriander came in and looked at the beautiful boy on the bed, waving his hands in the air again. He stared in shock at the tears rolling down Harry's pale face and rushed forward.

"Harry? What's wrong? Did the professor do anything to you?" Harry remained quiet, but lowered his arms slightly and raised his weary head towards the healer.

"Har…Harry doesn't remember. He knows there are things inside that have links to outside but Harry can't connect them." He gazed at the healer imploringly.

"Please. Please help Harry…please."

The Healer-in-Charge was at loss. On the one hand, the boy seemed completely normal…except for speaking in the third person of course. He rationalised things, and seemed to be able to understand people when they spoke to him. He was fully functioning, and asked for things he wanted…but then that…fit he had earlier seemed to suggest deep psychological trauma. If that were the case, it would explain why the boy referred to himself in the third person. He wanted to create distance between himself and other people. He didn't like to be touched. But here he was, asking for help…and it had only been a short while. What if there was something else wrong with the boy? Something that hadn't revealed itself yet? He looked at his patient in worry and was again confronted with huge pools of shining green.

"Please…" It was a frail whisper in the dark.

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"Remus! Remus Lupin!" Remus turned from the bar he was currently sitting at, and squinted into the murky depths of the pub. The smoke around him made it hard to see, but finally he smelt rather than saw a large man walking towards him.

"Hey there!" He clapped Remus warmly on the back and Remus gave a small growl.

"Hey yourself." The man ordered a drink and Remus resigned himself to forced conversation.

"So…what brings you to these parts? I thought you had a shop up in Ireland?" The man nodded and then leant forward slightly.

"I do - but a friend asked a favour. So I came down to London, and thought I'd stop here on my way back. Fancy meeting you here, aye?" Remus nodded and let his eyes wander around the room.

"Hey, what have you been up to Remmy? Haven't seen you in a while! Not since they kicked you out of the shop…bad business that was."

Remus growled. Being reminded of anti-werewolf regulations at a time when he was trying to drown his sorrows was not his idea of a good time, but he humoured the other man nonetheless.

"Yes, it was. But I'm fine - well, as fine as anyone like me can be. What did you say brought you to London?"

"Oh a special case. My friend wanted discretion and I could offer it." Slightly curious now, Remus faced him fully.

"Really now. What's this business then?"

The man was slightly intoxicated by now and laughed shortly.

"Aye, you must think I'm mad! I told you it was secret…"

"You said discrete, not secret." The man looked puzzled.

"Aye so I did…well, I have a friend up at St. Mungo's. Seems some patient wanted their hair cut."

Remus stared.

"That's the big deal? Someone wanted their hair cut and your friend called you all the way to London?" The man nodded, and leant in again.

"I thought the same thing as you, mate, but I walk into the room and who should be sitting on the bed but bloody Harry Potter–"

Remus stopped breathing. His nostrils expanded and the filth from the floor penetrated his nose. He heard the laughing of the people around him and their heavy breathing as they sloshed ale down their fronts. The belching and rumbling words slowly faded when all that he focused on became the man in front of him.

"You saw Harry Potter at St. Mungo's?" The man nodded.

"Bit of a strange fellow. Spoke to himself…addressed himself as Harry. Didn't want his face touched. Very odd."

"At St. Mungo's?" Again an affirmative nod, and suddenly Remus was up, stumbling out of the door, leaving Craig O'Shaw to his drink and a huge hangover in the morning.

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"Do you think Harry got our letter?" Hermione fretted as they claimed two chairs near the fire. Ron shrugged his shoulders helplessly, and they both felt extremely downcast.

"I don't know…I don't dare to hope." Hermione seemed to have thought of something and her eyes widened.

"What if Dumbledore has him monitored? Or us monitored? He seemed really serious about…not letting us see Harry." Ron scowled.

"I'm getting really tired of him." Hermione didn't say anything but her unhappy face spoke volumes.

They both sat staring at the fireplace until Hermione remembered Percy's letter. She took it out of her pocket and together they opened it.

Dear Ron and Hermione,

This may come as a surprise to you, but it's me, Percy. Ron - please don't discard this letter immediately and just read what I have to say.

I know I have made mistakes, and I know I owe the whole family a very huge apology but

"He definitely does" Ron growled

I will do this at a later date, with the whole family together. Please accept this for what it is, and don't think too harshly of me.

If mum can forgive me, then certainly you can too?

I also want to apologise for that letter I sent you last year. I was and still am very proud of you being a Prefect, and Ron, don't listen to whatever Fred and George say because it IS something special and something to be proud of - but I should not have said what I said about Harry. I should not have tried to dictate who you can and cannot be friends with. For this, I owe you and Harry a large apology, which I am hoping to give to you two as soon as possible.

But now the real reason I decided to write. Hello Hermione, I'm sure you're reading this as well, and I'm almost positive you both are worried sick about Harry. Well, we are too. I'm helping mum and Professor Lupin all I can, but he has almost completely severed ties with the headmaster. It seems there was a misunderstanding between them, and Lupin is convinced Dumbledore is doing more harm than good to Harry.

As far as we know, Harry was kidnapped from his relatives' house in the summer and had to endure many forms of torture. I'm not going to go into details but I can tell both of you that is it is looking extremely serious, and the possibility of Harry not waking up was even addressed. Lupin saw him briefly before the headmaster moved him to parts unknown, and said he looked terrible.

This is not meant to upset you - it is meant to encourage your determination to help Harry. I understand that I am one of the last people you want to trust right now - but if you don't believe me write mum and she should vouch for me.

Professor Lupin is currently putting everything in motion to find Harry, and he wants to gain custody of him.

"THAT'S GREAT!" Hermione yelled, before calming down and blushing.

However, because of his werewolf status this is almost impossible. He has asked me to look up what I can about half-breeds and such adopting or gaining custody of children. The information is few and far between, and it is taking me a long time - time I think Harry can ill afford. Therefore I was wondering, Hermione (and of course Ron) if you would please help me by trying to look up as much information as you can on the subject, and anything you may find helpful.

I urge you to use school owls, because if what Lupin says is true, the headmaster is no doubt keeping an eye on you - and your owls and whom they go to. Please keep in mind that Harry is also the Boy-who-Lived, something that will not make this endeavour of Lupin any easier.

Ron, I hope you can forgive me, and in time we can be somewhat like brothers again. I'm really not that much of a stick…but I won't make excuses now. I'll wait till I meet you in person. Thank you both if you decide to help me, I'll await your owl.

Your loving brother,

Percy

The two Gryffindors looked at each other and Hermione briefly squeezed Ron's shoulder.

"This is a good thing, right? Percy's realised what an idiot he was being…and now he's helping us get Harry back. Ron? Ron? Are you all right?"

Ron was silent for a bit but then nodded and gave her a watery smile.

"Yeah, it's just…" he gestured towards the letter on the table.

"I'm going to go to bed. Would you…would you write back to Percy? I'm just…I think I want…I'm going to bed."

Hermione nodded sympathetically, and watched as Ron trudged up the stairs to the quiet dormitory. Then she grabbed a quill and parchment and proceeded to write Percy back. For a moment her eyes closed. They were going to get Harry back. She just knew it.

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"Good morning, son" Arthur Weasley entered the kitchen and looked at his child, slumped over his porridge.

"Morning dad." He smiled briefly. Seeing Percy back at home, where he belonged, made him want to forgive him all his mistakes. But there was a whole lot to talk about and Percy had a long road to go. For now, Arthur was content to simply watch his son eat his breakfast.

"Morning everyone." Lupin came down the stairs whistling a jaunty tune, and Arthur raised his eyebrows in question.

"I stayed the night. Molly and I had some…business to discuss." Arthur frowned but nodded and immersed himself in the Daily Prophet. After a while his wife came down the stairs as well, smiling benignly at everyone.

"Good morning Remus, Percy, Arthur." All three men nodded at her, and she sat down next to her husband.

"So Arthur, we didn't get much chance to talk about what you were so excited to tell me when you came in last night."

Arthur Weasley's demeanour changed immediately and he lit up.

"Oh Molly, it's fantastic. Fudge is thinking about resigning. Properly. His official reason is that he feels too old to handle the responsibility, but I think he's afraid, now that people know He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is indeed around again."

The other three people in the kitchen were staring at him open-mouthed.

"That's the best news I've heard all week." Percy commented and shrugged when his parents stared at him.

"What? Just because I worked for him doesn't mean that I enjoyed it!" Lupin gave him a smile and then turned to Arthur.

"Well, Arthur, that's fantastic news! Who have they got in mind as a replacement?" It became quiet and Arthur Weasley turned his head away, distinctly uncomfortable.

"Arthur?" his wife enquired.

"Uhm…me." There was silence. Then Molly jumped up and wrapped her arms around her husband.

"OH ARTHUR! THAT'S GREAT NEWS! HOW COULD YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN TO MENTION THIS TO ME?"

Percy and Remus grinned slightly at the Weasleys' antics, and Arthur emerged from the hug slightly flustered.

"Well, nothing's certain yet, and there's a lot to be discussed…but my name has been mentioned."

Remus stepped forward and shook his hand warmly.

"I can't think of anyone I'd like better. Congratulations, Arthur." The humble man shook his hand whilst shaking his head.

"No no, it's not certain yet - I'm sure there are others who are just as competent as I am…more so in fact, and…"

"Dad," interrupted Percy "learn how to take a compliment, all right?" His father smiled and busied himself in his newspaper, chuckling quietly to himself. Percy turned to his mother just in time to see her share a significant glance with his old teacher.

Lupin had a calculating gleam in his eye, and it looked like his mind was working overtime. Percy could just see all the pieces falling together in front of his eyes, but a second later the man looked as kind and genial as ever. He rose.

"Well everyone, thank you for breakfast, no doubt I'll see you all very shortly. Arthur, best of luck!" Arthur waved him off and Percy stared at the door through which his old DADA professor had disappeared, thinking he really didn't know the man at all.

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"There's something wrong with Potter, Albus." The potion's master stormed into the headmaster's office without knocking, and threw the rumpled letter onto his desk. The old man raised his piercing eyes to Severus's face, and put his hands together in a contemplating manner.

"Really now? Please explain further." Snape bit the inside of his cheek in frustration.

"There's just something wrong! He swore at me, he garbles out completely random nonsense, he addresses himself in the third person and before I entered the room I could have sworn he was screaming in real distress…Albus - he was acting insane!"

The headmaster looked worried and drummed his fingers on the desk.

"You're sure it wasn't an act?" Snape rolled his eyes.

"I took seventy-five points from Gryffindor and I got a 'leave'. That doesn't sound like Potter, does it?"

The old man looked really surprised and frowned, apparently deep in thought. He stood up and paced the room, finally looking at Snape.

"Thank you Severus, for informing me. It seems I shall have to go and take a look at Harry myself."

Snape nodded and swept out of the room and down the stairs. He shook his head in disbelief how Potter always managed to get into these situations.

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Dark was exhausted. His fragile state of mind was not doing any better, even hours after his master's spell. Rubbing his temples, he groaned as pain shot through his head. The Dark Mark throbbed and pulsated happily underneath his robe and he growled at it.

"Stupid infernal piece of shit." Someone chuckled and Dark whipped his head up, relaxing when Narcissa slid into the room.

"Why, I had no idea you were so easily affected." Her eyes expressed amusement, and settled herself in a chair. Dark was on his guard. He was never particularly fond of women, and Narcissa Malfoy was one of the most dangerous.

With Draco's eye colour, one would expect Narcissa to have light blue eyes, or sea green, but Narcissa defied expectations and had them both. It was eerie to look at her, and many avoided her eyes when they felt them sweep over themselves.

She was a strange creature, Dark mused, you hardly saw her and then she appeared when you least expected it. All he knew was that she was fiercely fond of Draco and had refused to back down when Lucius insisted he go to Durmstrang. But now she sat in front of him and her eyes glittered feverishly.

She leant forward and Dark had to remind himself not to draw back. He was the more important one here, after all.

"I know what you did." His eyes widened…what could she mean? Dark was a man of many secrets and most were not beneficial to be exposed.

"I have no idea–" She held up one graceful finger and put it to his lips.

"You play your game…and I shall play mine. Would you care to wager on the winner?" She laughed, but it was cold and unpleasant, and it made Dark wish he had stayed in bed today. He had done far too much running as it was.

"Again, I have no clue–"

"No. You don't. But I do." She disappeared as quietly as she had come, and Dark was left with a strange sense of foreboding. All the strings he was pulling seemed to somehow slide from his grasp, and the whole puppet show was falling to pieces.

Swearing he took a paperweight off the table and watched in satisfaction as it shattered against the wall.

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Percy thumbed through the Daily Prophet his father had left on the table, turning to the sports section with little interest.

Chudley Cannons lost again. What a surprise. He grabbed his mug of tea and swallowed, his eyes scouring the page. Suddenly he was holding a drenched newspaper as he spat out his tea.

"New Keeper of the Montrose Magpies, Oliver Wood, was severely injured when he collided with a beater from the Falmouth Falcons, who maintains it was an 'accident' and the fact that he successively beat the Magpie keeper with his bat was 'self-defence'. Wood fell from his broom from a height that surely would have killed him, if the referee hadn't slowed the fall. Wood suffered a concussion and has been brought to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, where he will remain until he recovers. Barry Keg will be taking over as the Magpies continue their…"

Percy stared. Oliver was in hospital? He felt bad at having lost contact with the closest thing he had to a best friend, and shook his head. Well - if he knew where Ollie was he would go visit him tomorrow. Ask him how he was doing - invite him for a drink maybe. It would be good to get out again, he couldn't hide at the Burrow forever. Furthermore, he hoped Hermione and Ron had received his letter and it would be waiting for him when he got back.

Percy stretched. Everything was going along just fine.

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Harry lay on his bed, trying to control his breathing. His ribcage protested every time he inhaled and he knew that the soaking red material was not supposed to be soaking red. He had been twisting and turning, restless for a reason he couldn't identify, a slight feeling of panic grasping his lungs - which was why he was breathing so heavily.

Slowly moving out of bed, he padded across to the window, where she still sat. He didn't know her name, but he knew she was his, and that she was looking after him. His breathing slowed and he felt slightly better though a little faint.

Suddenly he heard something, someone crying out in pain. He looked down and saw a figure being carried into the hospital, marvelling to himself at the strategic window place. It was familiar, that cry. He went back to bed when his head suddenly snapped upwards and his eyes rolled back. Then he gave a strange smile.

"Ollie's here."