A/N: Wow. I've got a handful of reviews out of nowhere. I'm glad people are enjoying this! Thanks for the kind words, and feel free to leave some more. This story jumps around a bit, but hopefully everyone can follow along well enough.
~*~
Dumbledore looked across the Great Hall worriedly, gaze set on the Gryffindor table. Watching Harry as he ate quietly, staring at his plate. Of course, he wasn't surprised that the boy was withdrawn – considering the terrible loss he'd suffered only a few months ago, he was entirely understanding of that entire situation – but he seemed like an entirely different person. This boy, the expressionless shell of a person, barely seemed like the fifteen year-old that had shouted at him last year.
Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley seemed likewise concerned with his behavior. Ron gestured toward the Slytherin table, where Draco Malfoy sat, and made a joke. Harry didn't even crack a smile. Ron, sighing, shared a look with Hermione, shrugged, and gave up. He hadn't gotten more than eight words out of Harry since he'd come back from the holiday. He was inclined to believe something horrible had happened to him at the Dursley's, but he had no evidence.
It was, however, painfully obvious: Harry Potter was not the same boy that he had been before.
~*~
Lucius Malfoy calmly stood in the center of a mostly-empty room, hands coming to rest on his hips. He sighed, and shook his head a bit. With a dismissive wave of his wand, produced from the end of his cane, a large canopy bed appeared in the corner, well-adorned with black silk and velvet. Another flick of his wrist, and chains appeared against the cold, stone walls, attached to the brick with big steel rings. He neared the bed, turning to the mahogany stand by its side, and setting the incense that D had given to him, upon it.
He heard the footsteps approaching before he heard his wife's voice at the door, so cold that he could have sworn that a window had been left open.
"What on earth are you doing, Lucius?" Her nose, forever upturned, seemed even more so as her calculating, demeaning gaze swept over the room.
"Preparing the bedroom," he answered simply, his tone snide in reaction to Narcissa's. The honest truth was that they hadn't been romantic since Draco was born, nor did he care if they ever were again. Their marriage hadn't been because of love – it'd been, of course, convenience. As a way to join the noble families of Malfoy and Black. As far as sex was concerned, Lucius had other means of satiating his desires, and – he suspected – as did his wife.
"Are you expecting company?" she asked, a fine blonde brow arching as she caught sight of one of the chains, suspended from the wall.
"It's for the new pet," Lucius explained coolly, as he turned away from the incense holder that he'd set up on the stand, and brushed a few locks of blonde from his shoulder. "I trust you remember my telling you that I pur-"
"I quite remember," Narcissa cut him off, scoffing underneath her breath. "I still can't for the life of me imagine why you won't tell me what it is."
"As I told you," his tone was becoming more and more impatient. "I doubt you would approve."
"Well, why don't you try me?" she asked at this. Lucius knew the game all too well – she tried to fire up his temper, made every attempt that she could to make him angry, so that when visitors came, it was always, "Lucius hit me again," or, "Oh, his temper's just unbearable!"
"Not today, Narcissa," he said, simply, then swept out of the room, leaving his wife to glare at the bed in disgust, before she turned on her heel and stormed out.
~*~
Holidays came upon the students of Hogwarts quickly, and all of them – even Harry, which puzzled Ron and Hermione even more than his other behavior had – went home on the Hogwarts Express. As the Dursleys embraced Harry warmly at the London Station, Hermione shared a puzzled look with Ron, before pulling him aside.
"Something is WRONG," she managed to sputter, as Dudley offered Harry a piece of the gigantic chocolate bar that he was eating. Apparently, they'd given up on the diet, as the boy was easily the size of both Crabbe and Goyle combined.
"I know!" said Ron, shaking his head and watching, then looking back to Hermione. "I reckon he's gone completely nutters!"
"You know what I think-?" she was starting, but cut herself short as Ginny appeared at Ron's side.
"What?" Ron asked, then looked down to his little sister, before rolling his eyes and sighing. "I'll owl you once I get back to the burrow." Hermione nodded gravely, saw her parents in the next moment, and ran to them. Christmas vacation had just begun.
~*~
Christmas morning could not come quickly enough for Draco Malfoy, who spent his afternoons practicing on his broom in the yard, or inside, when it was too cold to fly, spread across his bed looking at photographs or perfecting his skills at Wizard's Chess. When December 25th finally rolled around, however, he appeared downstairs in the living room, greedily regarding the piles of gifts wrapped in silver, black, and green paper. He received a new broomstick – a Firebolt II, the newest model – new robes, a new potions set and new silver Chess pieces, several dozen Chocolate Frogs and boxes of various candies. It was a Christmas much like every other, until his father took him by the arm, leading him to the third floor of their spacious house.
Draco followed his father obediently, allowing himself to be led to one of the guest rooms. Nearly halfway down the hall, he was welcomed by a very sweet scent. He tilted his head and lifted it a bit, nose raising to sniff at the air. He hadn't remembered smelling that ever before.
"It was delivered this morning," Lucius was explaining, as he produced a key from a pocket of his robes. "There are rules that go along with this, Draco." Draco had learned long ago to pay attention when his father's voice dropped to that sort of tone. He looked up, blinking away the strong desire to fall asleep. He felt like he'd drifted into a state of dreaming. "You cannot tell anyone, nor may anyone see it. Always make sure that the incense is lit and – listen to me, Draco –" he gripped his son's arm so hard that the teenager thought he might squeak. "You cannot harm him. No broken bones, no scars, no missing parts. And, for heaven's sake, don't tell your mother."
With that, Lucius turned abruptly and left his son looking quite puzzled in front of a door. Glancing from side to side, Draco wasted no time in slipping the key into the lock and turning it, then opening the door. The scent of incense was even stronger inside the room, and Draco almost let the desire to fall asleep get the better of him. At last, though, he shook his head to clear it, and stepped further inside. He took care in closing the door behind him, and then moved toward the bed.
At first, he thought he'd actually fallen asleep, and it was a dream. A very vivid, very strange dream. Seeing one of his schoolmates on the bed, chained and bound, naked certainly wasn't an everyday occurrence. Especially THAT schoolmate. Draco's jaw dropped as he neared the bed, then broke into a very wide, very devilish grin.
"Harry Potter," he stated, moving right up close. The other boy's pupils were wide, his eyes nearly entirely black. He didn't move or stir, but sat calmly on the edge of the bed. At last, he looked up to Draco, lips parting as though to form words, but then closed again almost immediately. Draco was floored, he absolutely could not believe this. His father was either the best patron on earth, or the kinkiest bastard alive.
Running a finger up Harry's delicate arm, the musculature that had been gained by years of Quidditch playing diminished as of late, his frame wiry and frail, Draco nearly shivered. Then, he decided that perhaps his father was a bit of both.
~*~
Hermione scribbled on a bit of paper, while Ron's owl Pig pecked impatiently at her fingers.
"Oh, you.. bird, I'm writing, can't you see that?" she hissed as she folded up the paper and attached it to the troublesome bird's leg. Then, she sighed and fell back against her bed, thinking about what she'd just written.
Ron-
I can't write everything in this
note, but I think that it is safe
to say that something is wrong
with him. I don't really think
he's himself lately, if you get
my meaning.
- Hermione
~*~*~
~*~
Dumbledore looked across the Great Hall worriedly, gaze set on the Gryffindor table. Watching Harry as he ate quietly, staring at his plate. Of course, he wasn't surprised that the boy was withdrawn – considering the terrible loss he'd suffered only a few months ago, he was entirely understanding of that entire situation – but he seemed like an entirely different person. This boy, the expressionless shell of a person, barely seemed like the fifteen year-old that had shouted at him last year.
Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley seemed likewise concerned with his behavior. Ron gestured toward the Slytherin table, where Draco Malfoy sat, and made a joke. Harry didn't even crack a smile. Ron, sighing, shared a look with Hermione, shrugged, and gave up. He hadn't gotten more than eight words out of Harry since he'd come back from the holiday. He was inclined to believe something horrible had happened to him at the Dursley's, but he had no evidence.
It was, however, painfully obvious: Harry Potter was not the same boy that he had been before.
~*~
Lucius Malfoy calmly stood in the center of a mostly-empty room, hands coming to rest on his hips. He sighed, and shook his head a bit. With a dismissive wave of his wand, produced from the end of his cane, a large canopy bed appeared in the corner, well-adorned with black silk and velvet. Another flick of his wrist, and chains appeared against the cold, stone walls, attached to the brick with big steel rings. He neared the bed, turning to the mahogany stand by its side, and setting the incense that D had given to him, upon it.
He heard the footsteps approaching before he heard his wife's voice at the door, so cold that he could have sworn that a window had been left open.
"What on earth are you doing, Lucius?" Her nose, forever upturned, seemed even more so as her calculating, demeaning gaze swept over the room.
"Preparing the bedroom," he answered simply, his tone snide in reaction to Narcissa's. The honest truth was that they hadn't been romantic since Draco was born, nor did he care if they ever were again. Their marriage hadn't been because of love – it'd been, of course, convenience. As a way to join the noble families of Malfoy and Black. As far as sex was concerned, Lucius had other means of satiating his desires, and – he suspected – as did his wife.
"Are you expecting company?" she asked, a fine blonde brow arching as she caught sight of one of the chains, suspended from the wall.
"It's for the new pet," Lucius explained coolly, as he turned away from the incense holder that he'd set up on the stand, and brushed a few locks of blonde from his shoulder. "I trust you remember my telling you that I pur-"
"I quite remember," Narcissa cut him off, scoffing underneath her breath. "I still can't for the life of me imagine why you won't tell me what it is."
"As I told you," his tone was becoming more and more impatient. "I doubt you would approve."
"Well, why don't you try me?" she asked at this. Lucius knew the game all too well – she tried to fire up his temper, made every attempt that she could to make him angry, so that when visitors came, it was always, "Lucius hit me again," or, "Oh, his temper's just unbearable!"
"Not today, Narcissa," he said, simply, then swept out of the room, leaving his wife to glare at the bed in disgust, before she turned on her heel and stormed out.
~*~
Holidays came upon the students of Hogwarts quickly, and all of them – even Harry, which puzzled Ron and Hermione even more than his other behavior had – went home on the Hogwarts Express. As the Dursleys embraced Harry warmly at the London Station, Hermione shared a puzzled look with Ron, before pulling him aside.
"Something is WRONG," she managed to sputter, as Dudley offered Harry a piece of the gigantic chocolate bar that he was eating. Apparently, they'd given up on the diet, as the boy was easily the size of both Crabbe and Goyle combined.
"I know!" said Ron, shaking his head and watching, then looking back to Hermione. "I reckon he's gone completely nutters!"
"You know what I think-?" she was starting, but cut herself short as Ginny appeared at Ron's side.
"What?" Ron asked, then looked down to his little sister, before rolling his eyes and sighing. "I'll owl you once I get back to the burrow." Hermione nodded gravely, saw her parents in the next moment, and ran to them. Christmas vacation had just begun.
~*~
Christmas morning could not come quickly enough for Draco Malfoy, who spent his afternoons practicing on his broom in the yard, or inside, when it was too cold to fly, spread across his bed looking at photographs or perfecting his skills at Wizard's Chess. When December 25th finally rolled around, however, he appeared downstairs in the living room, greedily regarding the piles of gifts wrapped in silver, black, and green paper. He received a new broomstick – a Firebolt II, the newest model – new robes, a new potions set and new silver Chess pieces, several dozen Chocolate Frogs and boxes of various candies. It was a Christmas much like every other, until his father took him by the arm, leading him to the third floor of their spacious house.
Draco followed his father obediently, allowing himself to be led to one of the guest rooms. Nearly halfway down the hall, he was welcomed by a very sweet scent. He tilted his head and lifted it a bit, nose raising to sniff at the air. He hadn't remembered smelling that ever before.
"It was delivered this morning," Lucius was explaining, as he produced a key from a pocket of his robes. "There are rules that go along with this, Draco." Draco had learned long ago to pay attention when his father's voice dropped to that sort of tone. He looked up, blinking away the strong desire to fall asleep. He felt like he'd drifted into a state of dreaming. "You cannot tell anyone, nor may anyone see it. Always make sure that the incense is lit and – listen to me, Draco –" he gripped his son's arm so hard that the teenager thought he might squeak. "You cannot harm him. No broken bones, no scars, no missing parts. And, for heaven's sake, don't tell your mother."
With that, Lucius turned abruptly and left his son looking quite puzzled in front of a door. Glancing from side to side, Draco wasted no time in slipping the key into the lock and turning it, then opening the door. The scent of incense was even stronger inside the room, and Draco almost let the desire to fall asleep get the better of him. At last, though, he shook his head to clear it, and stepped further inside. He took care in closing the door behind him, and then moved toward the bed.
At first, he thought he'd actually fallen asleep, and it was a dream. A very vivid, very strange dream. Seeing one of his schoolmates on the bed, chained and bound, naked certainly wasn't an everyday occurrence. Especially THAT schoolmate. Draco's jaw dropped as he neared the bed, then broke into a very wide, very devilish grin.
"Harry Potter," he stated, moving right up close. The other boy's pupils were wide, his eyes nearly entirely black. He didn't move or stir, but sat calmly on the edge of the bed. At last, he looked up to Draco, lips parting as though to form words, but then closed again almost immediately. Draco was floored, he absolutely could not believe this. His father was either the best patron on earth, or the kinkiest bastard alive.
Running a finger up Harry's delicate arm, the musculature that had been gained by years of Quidditch playing diminished as of late, his frame wiry and frail, Draco nearly shivered. Then, he decided that perhaps his father was a bit of both.
~*~
Hermione scribbled on a bit of paper, while Ron's owl Pig pecked impatiently at her fingers.
"Oh, you.. bird, I'm writing, can't you see that?" she hissed as she folded up the paper and attached it to the troublesome bird's leg. Then, she sighed and fell back against her bed, thinking about what she'd just written.
Ron-
I can't write everything in this
note, but I think that it is safe
to say that something is wrong
with him. I don't really think
he's himself lately, if you get
my meaning.
- Hermione
~*~*~