(Disclaimer: see first chapter.)

Beta: RedButterfly33. Thank you so much!

A/N: Many thanks for the reviews go to mandancie and Gwen Polk! (And to the anonymous, French reviewer - *constructive* criticism would be highly appreciated, though. :P) My apologies to everyone for leaving this so long. In my defence, first I was on holiday, now RL has gotten a bit crazy... Anyway, enjoy! :)

8.

(The same day, still.)

Monster.

I am a monster.

Harry straightened up, gasping for breath. He propped his hands up on the toilet seat he had been sticking his head through a moment ago.

I have reduced Malfoy to this trembling, crying and begging thing!

I did that.

I did that to Malfoy - the proud, arrogant, self-confident and snotty Malfoy.

How much worse than he'd expected must his words have been to break even Malfoy?

Break. I have broken him. Never mind that this is Malfoy. I have broken another person. A person who was completely at my mercy and was begging me...

Monster.

I hate you.

Harry was now standing in front of the mirror staring at his own face that was still glistening with droplets of water from where he had washed his mouth.

I hate you.

You are as bad as Voldemort.

- Not true, another voice suddenly chimed in. After all, it was for his sake as much as mine.

Oh, so you think you did this out of pure altruism?

- Well, I certainly don't hate him. I trembled while I insulted him. I had to close my eyes and take a deep breath in order not to fold myself up into a crying heap of misery upon beating him. I suffered...

And you think that makes it all better?

- No... But now's not the time for self-pity.

Really now?

- Really. Draco's worse off than ever and you still have done nothing to heal his injuries from the Cruciatus.

"Oh fuck!"

Harry hastily wiped off his face and returned to the bedroom.

"Silencio!"

This is it. He's really going to do it.

Harry...!

Draco was trembling uncontrollably. Naked, on his hands and knees, he was sitting in front of Harry Potter, the man because of whom he had been taken to Azkaban. The man who was about to completely destroy him.

How can he have changed so much? It's not fair!

Draco's body shook harder when he felt Harry shifting behind him. His body tensed up anticipating the impending doom.

Why does it have to be him?

Why?

And why couldn't he at least have listened to me? Why...?

It took a while before he noticed Harry's absence.

What could this mean? Uncertainly, Draco turned around. His surprise at finding the room empty of Harry passed quickly as he heard the sound of retching from the bathroom.

Is he ill...?

Immediately two emotions were warring in Draco's breast: relief, because Harry might not now be able to violate him; and worry. Worry about the other. After all this was still Harry, the man who could save or destroy him. The man who was holding Draco's life in his hands - and had been, for much longer than Harry himself could possibly know.

When Harry returned to the bedroom, Draco was fearfully watching his approach. But it was no longer the mindless panic that had disfigured his traces earlier. This time, there was more than the naked fear for his life - or rather, for his integrity - in the prisoner's gaze. Harry couldn't tell what it was. But ultimately, it didn't matter. He finally had to take care of Draco's injuries.

Draco flinched back when Harry pointed his wand at him.

"Don't worry, Malfoy, I'm not going to hurt you. Sanis."

Draco sat motionlessly, watching Harry drop to his knees beside him and start to heal the wounds he himself had inflicted. His eyes bulged in disbelief when Harry proceeded to look for the after-effects of Cruciatus, finding and healing several torn nerve endings.

"Master, what are you doing?" Draco whispered.

The reaction to his words was not what he had expected. Harry covered his face with his hands and averted his head. Puzzled, Draco saw that the black-haired man's shoulders were shaking.

He's crying...!

"Please...," came Harry's choked voice, "please don't call me 'Master'!"

Now Draco was seriously confused. "How... how am I to address you then, Sir?"

"Not 'Sir', not 'Master'! Respect is the last thing I deserve! Oh God, Malfoy, I am so sorry!" Harry had turned around during these words and was now staring at Draco with wild, wet, red-rimmed eyes.

Draco swallowed nervously.

"What are you sorry for... Potter?" he finally dared to ask.

"Everything!" was the agonized answer. "My words. The Cruciatus. The beating. The... The humiliation..."

Harry's voice broke. His sobbing increased in volume, only interrupted once as he spoke a shaky spell to release all of Draco's chains and bonds. Draco just kept watching him with growing bewilderment. He did not understand a single word Harry was saying. None of it made any sense.

Silently he watched Harry get up and go back to the bathroom. He did not move, not even when Harry returned carrying several clothing items and holding them out to him.

For a moment they remained like that. Then Harry took a fortifying deep breath and said: "Malfoy. Please put these on."

Draco took the offered clothes, still without a word. He watched Harry turn around and leave the room. Draco sat looking at that closed door for a long time.

Finally, he allowed himself to believe Harry's words, at least for the time being. Harry seemed to truly want him to get dressed. And there had been no trace of lust or cruelty in his voice any longer.

Had he been under Imperius before?

No, that made no sense. Why would Voldemort do that? And how would Harry have shaken off an Imperius in his weakened state after such a long time in Azkaban?

Hmm... drugs, maybe? What could they have given Harry?

But who? Someone who hated Draco and wanted to get back at him? That would have taken some lengthy and complicated preparation. Somehow that seemed rather implausible.

There was nothing for it. If he wanted answers, he had to ask Harry.

It took nearly an hour for Harry to re-emerge from the bathroom. Draco had spent the entire time sitting quietly at the table, racking his brains for answers about his former classmate's behaviour. None of it made sense. It was nearly as though there were two Harrys. But which of them was the real one?

Draco watched the slowly opening bathroom door with a great deal of nervousness. Which of the two Harrys would he be faced with any second now? The heroic and ultimately good-natured Gryffindor from their school days or the evil, dangerous Death Eater from earlier that day? ...Or possibly a third - the broken and distraught Harry he had encountered last?

Had Azkaban broken Harry? Was that why he was so... capricious?

Draco nearly laughed out loud. Capricious? He'd always been a master of understatements.

However, the laughter stuck in his throat as Harry closed the door behind him and now approached him with slow, yet deliberate steps. He sat down at the table opposite Draco and mutely looked at him.

Draco nearly went mad from that look.

It was impossible to tell which Harry was examining him from underneath those expressionless eyes. Harry now had such total control over his features that any Slytherin would envy him for it. Draco wanted to know who he was dealing with at present, but if it was the Death Eater, he was loath to make a wrong move. One word spoken out of turn could suffice to condemn him to a continuation of the previously interrupted scene.

He could not quite suppress a tremor at the thought. He might have always wished for... But not like that...!

"Malfoy."

Harry's quiet word made Draco flinch like a beaten dog. He fearfully looked at the other. Yes? he wanted to say. But which form of address should he use? Master? Or Potter?

Harry?

No, not Harry. Never Harry.

He might wish for things to be different. But in the current situation, using his given name could well be a mistake that any of Harry's personalities would resent.

He ended up just staring at Harry insecurely.

The other avoided his gaze. "Say, Malfoy, why were you in Azkaban anyway?"

Draco swallowed drily. He had not expected that question. Twice today he had tried to explain to Harry what had happened - but Harry had shot him down both times.

He anxiously squinted at the wand lying on the table in front of Harry. Harry followed his gaze and sighed. Then he took up the wand. Draco immediately retreated a bit, ending up sitting ramrod-straight in his chair, as far from the table as possible.

Harry looked at him with a sad expression. "Will you promise me that you won't attack me if I put the wand away?"

Draco was mystified. Why would Harry want to put away the wand? Maybe he had need of both his hands... Oh Merlin, was that it? Did Harry want to continue where he left off earlier?

...Even if he did, what could Draco do about it?

If Harry put away the wand, maybe he could somehow snatch it for himself. But even then he'd have no chance of escaping. He was much too weakened to use magic. Not to mention he was currently inside a castle filled with Death Eaters and covered with an unbreakable two-way apparition jinx.

Whatever Harry was planning, Draco was at his mercy. He resignedly closed his eyes and nodded.

For a moment, there was silence, as though Harry was mutely examining him to gauge if he was telling the truth. He seemed to come to some kind of conclusion, for Draco soon heard the other approaching him. Unknowingly, he started trembling again.

But Harry did not stop next to Draco, instead passing him by and walking over to the window. Draco heard a quiet rattle as the other put his wand down on the window sill, then the steps returned. Again he stiffened up; again Harry passed him by. A scraping noise - Harry moving the chair about and sitting back down. Then silence.

"Malfoy?"

Draco looked up, his mouth completely dry. Harry sat opposite him. His mask appeared to have slipped, for Draco could now easily read the exhaustion and something akin to insecurity in the ex-Gryffindor's face. Again, Harry spoke up.

"Malfoy, I know we have always hated each other. You never had any reason to trust me. After what happened today, I don't know if you'll ever be able to trust me again. Probably not. It doesn't really matter. But... I don't want you to suffer more than you absolutely have to. That is why I hope that against my expectations, you may come to believe me one day if I tell you that I do not wish to harm you."

Draco incredulously stared at the wizard before him.

"Yes, I know I have given you ample reason to worry. But as you see, I am currently unarmed. Besides, I have also only just gotten out of Azkaban today and I am just as exhausted as you. Even if I wanted to, I could hardly do much damage any more today.

"Not that I haven't done enough already..." The last sentence he'd said so quietly Draco suspected it wasn't intended for his ears.

What did Harry mean by all this? Was he trying to tell him that he had no other choice but to hurt and humiliate him? That he was sorry? Or did he want to lull him into a false sense of security, only to strike at him that much harder afterwards?

He didn't know. But he hoped. He wanted to believe that the face Harry was showing him now was the Harry who was currently in control. The real Harry.

"Why... what... Did you really demand me as your property?" he managed to hesitantly force out.

Harry sighed and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, pain and loneliness shone from the green depths. "I did not want any of this, Malfoy. I just wanted to peacefully die in my cell. But Voldemort wouldn't let me."

Draco sharply sucked in his breath.

"He told me in no uncertain terms that I would join him, with or without my consent. He knows I can throw off the Imperius, but there are a host of other ways to break a person. I am sure your father taught you a few things about that."

Draco lowered his eyes. He still had not gotten over his parents' death. His eyes were burning and he was ashamed to notice a tear leaving his right eye to trail inexorably past his fringe and down his cheek. He did not want Harry to see him so broken. But if he wiped away the tear, it would be obvious. So he kept sitting there, outwardly calm, and hoped that the other was maybe looking down again, as well.

"Oh God, Malfoy! I shouldn't have said that... I only heard about your parents today. I am so sorry!"

Now Draco looked up, after all. His gaze fell upon a beet red Harry Potter who had Awkward! written across his entire face as though branded into it.

"I'm sorry. But you know Gryffindors... we only know what we're saying when we hear the words..." He forced out a smile and averted his eyes.

"Anyway..." Draco could tell it was a huge effort for the other to force a calm tone back into his voice. But Harry won the fight. "Anyway, I didn't want to become Voldemort's mindless puppet. If I had to join Voldemort's side, I wanted to use that chance.

"Voldemort has ruined my life. He has stolen my parents from me - and with them my childhood, for my relatives hated me. He turned my school years, the best time of my life, into a cruel nightmare again and again. And finally he caused me to be condemned to Azkaban for my relatives' murder. Admittedly, I sometimes wished to end these... people" - Draco got the vague impression that Harry had quite a different word in mind - "with a clean Avada. But I never could have gone through with something like that.

"I thought my friends knew that," he added, once more so quietly that Draco was sure Harry had unwittingly voiced his thoughts. The ex-hero dully stared holes into the air for a moment, then he regained a handle on his thoughts and continued. Draco clung spell-bound to his every word.

"I have every reason to hate Voldemort. Even though my friends have abandoned me, even though the Order betrayed me and my godfather disappointed me - the one I hate most in this world is still Tom Riddle."

"Riddle?"

"Voldemort's former name... I hate that man. If man he be. …If I give up now, he will continue with his sick plans like before. Did you know there's a prophecy about Voldemort and me?" he now directly addressed Draco.

Draco stared at him like a deer in headlights, too surprised to give any response.

"It claims that I am the only one who can defeat him, Malfoy. It is my task to kill Voldemort. If I don't do it, nobody can.

"I am currently not a big fan of the wizarding world at large. And neither have I had much luck with the Muggles in my life. But even if it weren't to prevent the deaths of countless innocents, I'd still want my revenge! Voldemort has destroyed me, and I can't leave when I know damn well that I am the only one who can avenge myself!"

Fire was suddenly dancing behind Harry's eyes.

"My life is over. Everyone has betrayed me, to the last man they have abandoned me. Hedwig is dead; she may have been the only creature to have ever truly l... liked me."

It pained Draco to see that Harry couldn't even say the word 'love'.

"There is nobody left. All I want is to go on... to leave all this behind me... But of course Voldemort won't make it that easy." He barked a bitter laugh. "I am to play his figurehead, like I have previously done for Dumbledore and Fudge. But I am sick of being used!

"If I have to go, I will take him with me! The day I leave this life behind will also be Voldemort's last." After this impressive statement, Harry looked around a bit startled as though only now perceiving his audience. He sighed.

"And this is where you come in, Malfoy. If I want to get close enough to Voldemort to do him in, I need to gain his trust. But I'll only get that if he believes me to be an angry, vengeful Death Eater fully under his control. Today... in Azkaban... I had to prove I was cut out to be a Death Eater, Malfoy. I was forced to torture a human being -" He gulped audibly.

"I was happy that I didn't have to kill anyone yet. But I fear that is only a temporary blessing. The Cruciatus was bad enough. Worse for you than for me, though, I am sure. But to be honest, it was harder than I thought it would be. I saw you and thought about what you and your father have done to me over the years. If I had to torture anyone, I thought, I'd rather it be someone who deserves it..."

Draco was hurt by those words, but he kept his mouth shut. It was only logical for Harry to see things that way. After all, he had never given him any reason to think differently.

Harry continued, unaware of his opposite's sad gaze. "Unfortunately, I had been mistaken. It was not a single bit easier to cast the Cruciatus on you than if it had been Hermione or Ron."

Draco could not suppress a disbelieving snort. Simultaneously, Harry continued: "Not that this is saying very much any more. After their betrayal, I am not sure if it mightn't even have been easier with them..." He broke off, utterly confused. "I mean, at least you never made a secret of what you thought of me."

"That's where you're mistaken, Harry," Draco whispered.

The words had left his lips before he had time to consider them. Startled, he looked up at Harry, hoping the other hadn't heard. But this day did not seem content to be the worst day of his life. It just had to get worse.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked bemusedly.

Draco groaned. Just what he needed. It was painful enough that Harry deemed him the one person he could curse with the least qualms; now his stupid mouth had to go off and admit the feeling wasn't reciprocated! How much deeper could he dig his own grave?

"Nothing, I... errr - how do you mean? Um, why did you have trouble cursing me? Didn't feel like it."

The miracle happened. Harry let himself be distracted. He drowned in his sense of guilt and apparently forgot all about Draco's little slip.

"Oh God, Malfoy, I am so sorry! I didn't want all this..." And they were back to square one. "I- I had to think of Voldemort and nearly completely switch off my brain in order to make that Cruciatus work for me. If I hadn't cursed you, I'd never be able to win Voldemort's trust. And then I could never defeat him..."

"You mean you don't hate me enough to curse me?"

"Merlin, no!" Harry stared at him with his eyes wide open. "The only one I hate that much is Voldemort... your master," he added despondently.

A/N: "Sanis" is a spell I made up. It's supposed to heal minor wounds, such as the headache and burning cheeks from getting one's face slapped several times.