A/N: Thank you Ali! Hope you enjoy!

Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen… Thirty-three… Fifty-five…

Surely it would be over soon.

Fifty-eight. Fifty-nine. Sixty.

Scream. Heat flooding him, one last violent thrust, the deepest and hardest yet.

The surly man atop him dismounted, pulling himself none too gently from Draco's abused ass.

He bent over his victim, giving him a sharp blow to the ass and running his tongue along Draco's chin.

"See you next time," he whispered sweetly, and Draco moaned dismally. "Don't worry, baby. Next time, I'll get you out of here. I'll get you out of here, and you'll never have to endure any of these other assholes again. It'll just be you and me."

Those words were beginning to mean less and less to Draco. The first time he'd heard them, from a very lanky redheaded boy with the look of a dog, he'd been terrified. What if someone really did remove him from the house? At least Drowry had a strict policy of 'Never Damage Beyond Reason,' which she for some reason kept up for him even though she seemed to hate him very much indeed. But if someone stole him from beneath Drowry? What horrors could they inflict on his emaciated form? What could they do to him before they ultimately killed him, or, worse, how long could they keep him alive to inflict those horrors upon him? The possibilities were endless, and terrifying, but he'd come to ignore the promises. They were whispered at least thrice a day, yet nothing ever came of it. A little flitter of panic set itself into motion in his chest still, each time he heard the words, but he swept it away. Nobody could get him past Drowry. Nobody would try. She was very powerful, for such a seemingly fickle woman. She was the type to protect her investments well.

At least, Draco prayed that she was powerful enough to keep him. Life with several men on a leash was better than life with one man off his leash, Draco figured.

"Damn!"

Severus smirked. "It's not as easy as it looks, is it?" he questioned, and Harry chuckled.

"I never said it was," he retorted.

Severus bowed his head and strode toward Harry. "Look, you're gripping it wrong. You have to grip it like this when you have two. Otherwise they collide too easily."

Harry adjusted his grip on the bullwhips without question, trusting, and waited until Severus was again across the room until he set them into motion again.

He gave them each a quick snap, then began to swing them in complex patterns, a smile spreading across his lips as the new grip seemed to work. He allowed his arms to work with their own minds, not really thinking too hard about the paths the whips were taking, for when he thought about them, they tended to collide.

He waited until he was comfortable with the movement and then instructed the left-hand whip to lash out at a specified target, sending it crashing into the little clay statue of a man. He brought it back around, swinging in for a second hit as the right-hand one reared back for a first chance at the supple clay. Within minutes the clay statue was reduced to a crumbled mass of clay, and Severus was clapping softly, proudly, and Harry was bringing the whips to a still with a snap.

"Bravo!" Severus laughed, his hands finally falling to his sides. Harry bowed, blushing and chuckling.

"You're getting better, Harry, I'm impressed."

"I have the best teacher in the world, of course I'm improving."

Severus snorted. "Oh, yea, right, you're just trying to flatter me so I keep teaching you," he accused.

Harry gasped, mockingly appalled. "What? Me? Never!"

Severus narrowed his eyes and frowned. "Just keep practicing, you little shit," he goaded, and Harry laughed as he set the whips into motion once again.

Harry turned completely away from Severus, turning to the next clay statue, starting in on it, changing his tactics to practice everything he knew using one whip, with two.

He didn't see the door open, and Ron slink through it, eyeing the whips warily, and striding to stand next to Severus.

"I didn't know he knew how to use whips like that," he murmured over the cracking and hissing of Harry's movement.

Severus smirked. "Yeah, he's learning."

"He's good."

"Yes, he is."

Ron quirked an eyebrow. "Why is he learning to use whips? What's wrong with his wand?"

Severus curled his lip. "Oh, nothing at all, but our dear Harry has made a spell to create whips from thin air, and he likes the idea."

"But… why whips? They're mostly used for…"

"Don't go there, Ron. Harry has his reasons. He refuses to use crucio so he has to have something."

Ron bowed his head in assent, turning his head to watch Harry annihilate the soft clay dummy.

With one last, theatrical crack, the whips fell to his sides and he turned, grinning. His eyes flickered briefly as they fell on Ron, questioning.

"Wow, mate, who knew you were so good?" Ron questioned, and Harry smiled faintly, his eyes still wary.

"What were you two talking about?" he asked.

Severus snorted. "Ron wanted to know why you were learning to use whips. I had to reassure him you weren't going to torture him anytime soon."

Ron's eyes flew wide and he gave a little gasp. "I didn't think that!" he breathed, his eyes bearing into Severus, then flickering to Harry. His horrified expression melted when he saw Harry laughing.

"Gotcha," Severus purred, and motioned Harry over.

Harry wound the whips as he strode toward them, still laughing at the horrified look on Ron's face.