Chapter Eighteen: Draco
The next morning, Draco awoke feeling more comfortable than usual. He carefully kept his eyes shut and his breathing deep and even while the scent of lavender assailed his nose.
Zabini has really gone to a whole new level to break me.
This might just do it.
Draco stayed still, waiting for Zabini to realise he was awake and yank his face to his crotch to demand a morning blow job - as was expected of Draco. While he lay there, he tried to assess his body without moving it and remember what had happened the night before. His eyes were feeling swollen and sore, his throat dry, but he couldn't quite recall previous night's events.
A loud CLANG echoed somewhere behind him, followed by a voice that wasn't Zabini's.
'Merlin's fucking BALLS!'
Wait, was that a pan from the kitchen? I shouldn't be able to hear anything from the kitchen in Zabini's room…
Slowly, cautiously, Draco opened his eyes. He was not greeted with the sight of the king sized, four poster bed that Zabini slept in, but instead he was looking at a wall.
Am I … in someone's bed?
Nervously, Draco sat up and looked around. He was in a fairly large, minimalistic bedroom. The bed Draco was currently in had bedding that was plush and impossibly soft, adorned with a mix of reds and golds. It was - quite possibly - the most comfortable bed Draco had ever slept in.
Not that I've been allowed a bed most nights, but that's obviously beside the point.
Draco looked around the room, but he didn't recognise anything. He took another calming, deep breath, wrapping his arms around his middle.
You've handled Zabini at his worst. Whatever he's got planned, you can …
Draco looked down at his body in surprise.
Am I wearing … clothes?
Draco pulled at the shirt he'd realised he was wearing, and then his memories came flooding back.
The club...
Zabini hit me...
Mistress … what was her name?
She gave me these clothes … to meet her Master...
Beth! That was her name.
She introduced me to …
Was it?
No…
I must've dreamed it.
I must've dreamed seeing him again.
Zabini would never allow it …
Draco glanced towards the door, where the sounds of someone rummaging through a kitchen could be heard.
Anxiously, Draco slipped out of the bed and padded over to the door. He carefully stuck his head out to find he was in an open plan apartment. Over in the kitchen, there was a man with his back to Draco. He wore no shirt, just low-slung jeans, and Draco found himself to be mesmerised by the muscles rippling in his back while he chopped ingredients and threw them into a pan on the stove. Draco was sure he was hallucinating.
I cannot possibly be in Harry Potter's house.
The man washed his hands and then ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling it even though it was already hopelessly messy.
It was shorter when we were in school. Now it's long enough my hands could get lost …
'Draco?' Harry asked, snapping Draco out of his thoughts. Harry had turned to pick up his glass of water from the kitchen island and spotted Draco.
'G – good morning, Master.' Draco said, bowing his head and folding his hands behind his back.
'Draco, no.'
Draco waited for further instructions, but none came so he stayed where he was. He heard a strangled sound and footsteps. He tried to relax his muscles, knowing that if he tensed whatever was coming would only hurt more.
Feet came into his line of sight. He felt a finger under his chin, lifting his face so he was looking directly at Harry.
'Draco, it's me. Not Master, I'm your Harry.' Harry looked pained, but Draco felt scared.
'What would you have me do, Master?' Draco asked, trying not to allow himself to breathe in the lavender smell too deeply. He would not be lulled into a false sense of security.
I won't let my guard down again.
'No, Draco.' Harry's face fell and he dropped his hand. As he did, Draco allowed his face to drop again, facing the floor.
'Draco, Zabini isn't here, you know that don't you?' Harry asked.
'Yes, Master.'
'Then why are you still … in your role?' Harry sounded like he was barely holding in his anger.
'Lord Blaise likes it when I am accessible at all times. I am his servant and not should behave any other way.' Draco said, still keeping his eyes down. 'Should I kneel for Master?'
'No!' Harry exclaimed. 'Merlin's balls, Draco. You're not my servant.'
'But … you are Master, didn't Lord Blaise pay you to train me?' Draco asked, confused.
'That was a front, so that we could get you away from him, Draco.' Harry's voice was gentle, and his hands cupped Draco's face to lift it up. He gazed into Draco's silver-grey eyes, pity filling his own green ones.
No one else's eyes could make me freeze in place like his do.
Draco found himself leaning into Harry's hands, but caught himself with a gasp.
'I'm sorry!' he fell to the floor.
'For what?' Harry exclaimed.
'I touched without permission, Master.' Draco tried not to sound afraid.
If this got back to Zabini…
'I touched you, Draco.'
'And then I leaned against Masters' hands without Masters' permission. I'm sorry!' Draco said, bowing his head to the floor.
'Get. Up.' Harry said, a hint of an order lacing in the words. Draco obeyed, hanging his head low. Harry's fingers wrapped around his wrist, and he was tugged forwards.
Is he … hugging me?
Sure enough, Draco was encircled within Harry's strong arms, a hand soothing the back of his head and the other holding him flush against Harry. Draco tensed but didn't move otherwise. Harry didn't let him go, just murmured nonsense to Draco.
'I'm here, Draco. I've got you, and I won't let you go again. You'll never have to go back to Zabini again.'
'But I will.' Draco mumbled. Harry held Draco at arms-length with an eyebrow raised.
'No. We will keep you here. We will protect you, and we won't let Zabini find you.' Harry said, determinedly. Draco kept his eyes on Harry's – he was unable to look away, but he also wanted to make sure Harry was looking – and he undid the top two buttons of his shirt. Pressing his fingers to his throat, Draco revealed a thin band around his neck with a circular charm. Harry's eyes zeroed in on the golden jewellery.
'What.' Harry took a deep calming breath, but his eyes were green fire.
'Is. That.' Harry managed to get out through his teeth, breathing heavily through his nose.
'Lord Blaise's collar. Wherever I am, this will lead him to me.' Draco let it fall through his fingers. 'If he says I am to obey you until he gets back, then that's what I will do, Master.' Draco knelt to the ground again, placed his palms on the floor and bowed his head.
'I am yours to do with as you wish, Master.'
There was silence for so long, Draco started counting. He'd gotten to thirty when he heard Harry turn around.
'FUCKING. ZABINI.' Harry yelled, and Draco heard something heavy smash against the floor. But he didn't move. Harry stomped around the apartment, yelling and cursing at the air and breaking things for a while longer.
Draco did not move. He waited for his next order. As was expected of him.
'Draco.' Harry had stomped over to Draco, but was speaking to him softly, and was gripping his upper arms to guide him to stand up. Draco followed compliantly.
'Draco, I'm going to go get someone and bring them up here. I want you to wait in the bedroom, OK? Make yourself comfortable.' Harry said, gently guiding Draco back into the bedroom.
'Yes, Master.' Draco said, making his way into a corner of the room after Harry left with a sigh.
Draco settled himself into the corner in the same position as before. On his knees, palms down, chin tucked in. He would wait, perfectly still, for Harry to come back.
