Harry Potter and the Star of Senkrad

Author: l'Ciel

Fandom: Harry Potter

Disclaimer: JKR, and some more I think – I don't own anything but the plot – oh, and Ice Drakes, that's mine too! And that sexy nurse (god bless her brainless boobs)

Rating: hard R for implicit sexual content, NC-17 for explicit sexual content

Warnings: violence, brain washing, non-con,

Pairings: HP/DG, SS/LM; side pairings: HP/BZ, NM/LM

Genre: Action/Adventure, Romance, Angst

Summary : After the events of OotP, Harry runs away from the Dursleys. The only one to find him is Snape, but where do the spy's loyalties truly lie? Slash & Het, war-story

Main characters: Harry, Snape, Lucius, Voldemort, Dumbledore

AN/ Extra Warning! This chapter is one of the most violent and twisted in the story. It deals with self mutilation and severe psychological disorder. I ask you hereby not to read this if you're underage. Many disregard the higher ratings, but this is NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN! Thanks, lCiel


15) Blood

Narcissa stood near the window, bathed in the light of the afternoon sun (rare for the season) that currently shone through the white curtains of his bedroom. Although the place was well-heated, Draco shivered and pulled the blankets closer around his shaking form.

The nightmares had returned after the last week of dreamless sleeping potion, but his mother had refused to give him more of the addictive concoction and to make him deal with his daily demons in the night. Blaise had come over for a couple of days, but as days passed by Draco had convinced the brunette to leave.

Now he sat in bed, popped up against three downy pillows and watched his mother standing at the window. She fake-smiled and caressed his cheek, before pulling away.

"I need to make some purchases, I trust I can leave you alone for a few hours, can't I, Draco?" She inquired and he nodded. She inclined her head and left the room through the wide open doors.


A cloud passed over the sun and the room grew dark. Draco stared at the painting at the opposite wall and chewed his lower lip. He had promised not to do it again, but it was so hard. He hated being so weak, so vulnerable and small. He had hated being Draco Malfoy, the blond pretty boy, had hated his fair hair, his angelic face and his flawless skin that was only tarnished in places nobody would ever see. Now he hated the welts, the scars that would never fade again, the scraps and bruises, that not even his godfather's potions could ease. The angry, red lines, that spread from his ankles over his inner things, privates, back and shoulders, neck, arms, face…

He hated his deformed, filthy body.

Grabbing his wand from the bedside table, he locked the doors, that banged shut with a loud noise, and doused the lights of the chandelier hanging from the painted ceiling. The little elves and unicorns bowed their heads when he tore open the top drawer in the night stand and snatch the razor from behind his spell-book. Glancing over to the doors, he reassured himself that Narcissa had actually left, before he got rid of his nightshirt. He progressed to draw the blade diagonally along his thighs in slow lines, creating a crisscrossing pattern of ugly red cuts that seeped small amounts of blood.

And he hated his twisted, bitter life.

Isolation and stiffness for the Malfoy name, emotional winter, an eternal blizzard over the manor. Hate, pure, soul consuming hatred in a thousand manifestations - maybe his last passion…

Draco had started to cut himself sometime during his fifth year, around Christmas, when he could not bear the emotional silence around him anymore. He had wanted to scream, tear down the sinks in the bathroom and to smash the mirrors, which he had actually done once in an abandoned girl's bathroom on the second floor. Then some stupid ghost had shown up and he had panicked she might tell one of the faculty about the damage he had caused and left the 'establishment' in a hurry, in the process of getting up from the floor cutting his wrist for the very first time.

Ever since the sharp pain had been his Elysium, his back hold, a fortress against the storms of his world. The one factor his ruddy life he had control over. Before his parents had found out…

Enraged and frustrated by the surfacing memory he viciously attacked the marred skin. The many lines disfiguring the flesh of his upper thighs suddenly looked much better to him than the smooth plane of his belly and he smiled while he dragged the razorblade over and over it again and again.

A house-elf who had just stumbled into the room gasped and cried out at the gory display, but Draco didn't even register the servant that watched him with watery eyes, before popping away.

It had to bleed out. All the pain and dirtiness.

Blind with hate and despair, he cut even deeper. It hurt terribly, but he continued until thick trickles of blood seeped down between his legs onto the white bed sheets. Hastily he got up and swayed heavily, his knees buckling, before he crawled over the polished parquet towards the full-length mirror on the other side of the room. Sitting up on his heels, he gazed at his own image and frowned. While his stomach looked better now, his face was still too pretty.

They like the pretty, don't you remember?

Determined, he placed the tip of the blade against his cheek and pressed down until a single drop of blood ran down his face. Draco then drew the knife across his cheek up to his ear, sharply down across his jaw and, withdrawing for a moment, over his lower lip down towards his chin, piercing the skin just below the lip until the tip of the knife knocked against his teeth. Smiling, he lowered the blade and watched the blood tickle from his lower lip.

He opened the second door and entered the bathroom. Balancing the knife onto the edge of the tub he unscrewed one of the shiny brass taps and lowered himself into the quickly filling pool. While the water began to take on a rosy colour, he repositioned the knife over his wrist and, with a determined frown, drove it deep into his flesh, before he pulled it along the vein.

Blood spurted from his pulsing wrist and his surroundings blurred for a moment, before he gathered his strength for a last time to also slit his other wrist.

With a dump clank the blade slipped from his weakened grip and tumbled through the red waters to the ground, while Draco leaned back against the wall of the tub.


A low 'pop' broke the eerie silence. Disentangling himself from Lucius arms, Severus scowled at the cowering elf. The creature sniffed and wrung its hands, before slapping itself a few hard times and looking up to its master frightfully.

Lucius frowned and rose his brows.

"It something important the matter, Tipsy, that you need to interrupt our talk?" he drawled.

"Oh sir, this being hard to explain. Tipsy has been with Master Draco and he… sir, Master Draco is being delirious, Tipsy has been thinking," the being stuttered.

"What's wrong with Draco? Has he sent you? Why didn't you go to Narcissa if he wanted something?" the blond aristocrat frowned.

"That is being the problem, sir. Master Draco has not sent Tipsy," the house-elf muttered.

"Then why are you disrupting me, speak up!" Lucius spat hot-temperedly.

"I is being very, very sorry indeed! But Master Draco is being insane, sir! He is laughing and crying and cutting and bleeding too much and-"

"Cutting?" Lucius interrupted the whimpering elf. "Bleeding? Isn't Narcissa with him? What nonsense are you telling me?" the blond roared.

"Tipsy is only telling the truth, sir," the elf squeaked. "I is worrying – too much blood for young master! Is no good! But master Draco is not seeing Tipsy when she is trying to take the knife away. Not seeing her at all! And Tipsy is so worried-"

"Knife? Where is he, where is Draco?" Lucius thundered anxiously.

"In the bedroom, sir, in the summer cottage. The floo connection is being 'Malfoy cottage, blue bedroom' sir, but sir-" it was cut off when Lucius stormed by to the nearest fireplace with a floo-connection, that being the one in the library. Severus followed him, equally worried, but better controlled. Half the way to the library, they separated, Lucius going straight for the cottage, while Severus precautiously packed some basic healing draughts as well as a blood-replenishing potion, before following his lover through the flames.


When the heard the door he tiredly opened his eyes to look up. Lucius seemed awfully pale. He had not seen his father much since Azkaban. The white hair flowed around his face like a halo, making him painfully aware that it had not been more than just a nightmare one longed to forget. The horror in his father's eyes made him lower his gaze in shame. He had never intended for him to see how low his son had sunken.

"Draco... no!" his dad's voice whispered terrified, while his eyes travelled Draco's body. It almost seemed as if he cared! Tears stung in Draco's eyes and rolled down his face, mingling with the blood and leaving pinkish trails on his chin. He felt his skin ceasing to hurt and the soft whisper of coolness wash over him, while his father knelt over the rim of the tub.

He saw Severus enter the room in the corner of his eye and felt him approaching him from behind. The professor fell to his knees next to his head and said something, but all noise was indistinct and far away...

There were shouts and he thought he heard his name, but the light brightened and outlines blurred and everything flared up in brightness... and... and... white...and -


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