Spiderweb
Chapter 6- Your eyes
(Harry)
He did not know how long he had remained sitting in the fallen tree trunk, listening to the snow fall from the branches around him, completely still.
Long enough for the black sky to begin lightening to a faded gray.
Yet, only now he was starting to recover his sanity. His mind had until that moment remained confused, but now was gradually regaining order.
The experience of intercourse had been so intense that for a few hours it had blurred the boundaries between his natures: the human, the spider, and the guardian, all resulting in a confusing amalgam of instinct, which was none of the three in singularity, but all and none at once.
Harry blinked languidly, not quite awake. Carefully, he extended a tendril of thought, trying to bring order to the memories of last night, as they were but a blur; a constellation of disjointed images, almost always meaningless.
He frowned.
Remembered the taste of blood- exotic, viscous, rich- filling his palate. The slender body subjected to his ministration, compliant beneath his. The silky tunnel around his member. Silver, sweaty strands, stuck against temples, cheeks, neck ... the acrid smell of tears.
He inhaled sharply.
The guilt was a violent slap that cleared his mind completely. Recalling the primal longing that had devoured him the moment he found Malfoy huddled in the cave made him sick.
He swallowed to contain the bile that wanted to rise to his throat, looking down to the dirty snow and his black chitin covered feet. It was a mistake. The sight of his footprints marring the perfect white surface, were all too telling in their metaphor.
He closed his eyes.
Although squirming between the teeth of his own guilt wasn't useful, he could not stop. What was done, was done. And nothing could change, delete, or alter it.
It had been necessary. But the way he had undertaken the task ... He should have been able to maintain control.
Although, had Malfoy deserved something better? He clenched his jaw.
Malfoy was a wizard, and one that had, at some point in his life, decided to voluntarily sell his soul to the darkness. It wasn't hard to imagine: the cruel and conceited student he remembered, growing and metamorphosing into a monster capable of murder, rape, and torture, for pure and unalterable pleasure. But even before that, he had been a pure blood. One who loved potions, he recalled.
If it had been any other, Harry would have devoured him. And that would had been that. But…
But much as he wanted to make him pay ...
If Malfoy died, hope for the forest would be lost.
That was the center of his guilt, the guardian understood.
So he would take care of the wizard, ensure that the darkness that the Death Eater carried didn't again touch anyone else. And in the future, put more restraint on the monster in himself, in regards to what concerned the Slytherin.
He opened his eyes, now calm and relaxed, their green depths wells of quiet poisonous waters.
It was time he explained to Malfoy his situation, and at least part of what was expected of him. The sooner he was made to understand that his human life was over, the easier everything would be. However, he would try to do it, a little ... softer than their last interaction.
When he awoke.
And after hunting.
Soon the snow storm would worsen, and when it happened it would be almost impossible to find prey. If he didn't want, Malfoy, and himself, to go hungry, he should go hunting.
Harry stood up.
oOo
(Draco)
Fatigue.
The notion entered his brain like an electrical synapse, turning on the machine of his mind.
He hadn't even know if he had been awake before now. But his eyes were open. Draco felt exhausted, in fact, on the verge of collapse. He analyzed himself a moment, to see if there was anything else.
Um ... definitely sore too, but not as bad as he could have. At least not in light of what happened. Of ... the memory came alive in his brain, barely lit. What exactly had happened? He forced himself to shape the words in the darkness of his mind.
He had been ... raped.
The spy swallowed, huge eyes, open like an owl's, fixed on the stalactites and fungal draperies of the ceiling. He was unable to bring himself to close them.
Would he see images of what was done to him, as spots revealed in the darkness behind his eyelids, if he closed them? He didn't know, he didn't want to find out.
He realized his breathing was getting fast and arrhythmic; small puffs, like the pumping heart of a bird. Panicked. He swallowed again, forcing himself to slow down and breathe deep.
Finally Draco blinked, looking around. His mind gradually regaining lucidity and control. Returning to normal. As if he had fallen into a deep well, and were now climbing back to the surface ...
He frowned when realising he had been in shock. Among the prisoners of the Dark Lord it was a usual malady, and easy to recognize; The slow ignition of the mind, stress, panic ...
'It's okay. What happened, happened.'
One of the few useful things of having had to witness, and perform, as many tortures, as he had, was having learned how a victim should react. The sooner you accept what has happened, the less the damage. Otherwise, fear and agony, could plunge you into a state of catatonia, that few recovered from. And if Draco Malfoy was something, it was a survivor.
Carefully, he looked around, searching for the monster.
But the cave seemed empty. No trace of the creature nearby. This made him relax a little, and finally the blond could breathe.
His knuckles ached.
It seemed his hands had been closed so tightly around the fur, it hurt. Carefully, he relaxed his grip, trying to relax and absorb what had happened. But not yet ready to relive the memories.
Needing to gather his remaining strength to think about what he would do now.
He had to return to Hogwarts. But ... Draco studied from the corner of his eye, the exit. Would the other be waiting outside, if he tried to escape?
The thought made him feel icy, chilly, as sharp as tentacles of jellyfish, fear threatening to throw him back into the darkness of shock.
He clenched his teeth together, pulling off the fear forcefully. If he was going to start flinching all over, he would never get out of there. And he had, long ago, left behind the cowardly and conceited part of himself, to revive it now after all he had gone through.
The experience had not killed him. Did it? If repeated, he would survive. Those who were really in danger were at Hogwarts.
This time the notion made his heart clench in his chest, as if to break and dissolve into dust. Maybe soon it would be late ... if it wasn't already.
The pain that possibility brought, was much worse than the fear of being forced again. And this, more than anything, was what pushed him to move.
He threw the skins that covered him aside, and began to rise. Slowly, so not to get dizzy, feeling his bones creak very weakly, his muscles relax while he uncoiled from his fetal position.
Tendons complaining about the overuse of the last two days. The small pain of the furs brushing his bare skin, touching the wounds still bandaged, and the new scratches and abrasions, adorning his flesh like purple flowers.
But when he sat down ... the position made him aware of what was still inside himself.
Moisture, heat. Something sticky and warm filling him. Merlin ... there was so much ... The nausea made Draco fold in half, his face covered with cold sweat, hands on his underbelly, where he could feel the seed of the monster clearly.
He groaned and shook, retching violently, but did not vomit. His stomach had nothing to give, painfully empty.
'What has happened, has happened.' was repeated like a mantra, over and over again.
Finally, he managed to achieve some kind of composure. Breathing somewhat agitated, but nothing else. A fierce and determined look, painting his face. Furious with himself for his weakness, and with the monster for reducing him to this. Using anger as a shield against the urge to simply collapse and mourn.
Gradually he started down the pile of skins, resting his feet on the cold rocky ground, and gathering strength before attempting to put any weight on his legs.
He clung to the stone wall, almost clawing at the cracks, and struggled to his feet.
"Okay. Here we go."
oOo
(Harry)
The snow had begun to fall again, slowly, piling on more snow, and covering over the forest ... however, it was not enough to erase the trace of a lone deer.
Harry crouched, taking care that the wind didn't drag his smell toward the path taken by the animal, as he advanced.
Studying the almost invisible footprints in the snow, small broken branches, strokes on the bark of trees where he had sharpened his antlers ...
Suddenly, the cry of the forest grabbed him from inside.
"Death Eaters" The hiss came in his mind as words of acid.
Another patrol sent to capture magical creatures, potion ingredients for Lord Voldemort.
"How many are we going to have to kill for him to give up at last?" But the furious question was merely ironic. The Dark Lord could afford it, people threw themselves at his feet, begging for a place in his ranks. What did he care about a dozens dead, if he could get what he wanted? But Harry would make sure, he never did obtain anything.
He straightened, tense and alert, while changing his humanoid form, metamorphosing to the acromantula. The big spider looked for a moment in the direction where he knew his cave was, but had no time to see if Malfoy was still asleep. He would have to be trusted not to wake up, before Harry returned to him.
He walked among the trees with the agility of a predator, on his way to a new battle.
oOo
(Draco)
Removing the piece of cobweb the creature had left behind, was easy ... and difficult.
Easy to rip and throw away. Difficult to endure the hot liquid that slid down his thighs, the second it was gone.
He used one of the furs from the nest to cleanse himself, as best as possible, but without water, the sticky dirty feeling of sweat and ... something else, was almost impossible to remove.
Avoiding thinking about it, Draco wrapped his body in some more furs, tearing strips of another to hold them in place. Improvising something to keep away hypothermia. Too well he could remember the chill in those caves.
The most difficult task was bandaging his feet in leather, but the determination to get out of there, helped maintain steady his hands.
He started walking.
Advancing through the tunnels soon became a torture. The pain coursing through his body with every step, the cold that threatened to freeze his blood, just at bay thanks to the skins, the semi darkness with its shadows where the monster could be lurking. The intricate corridors and chambers ...
Draco didn't even know if he was taking the right course. But continued convincing himself to move forward. Force himself a little more. Walk another step.
Cold sweat adhered strands of his hair to his cheeks and neck, his skin felt taut, stiff from the cold and the beginnings of shock. The only moving thing he could see in the greenish atmosphere, were the small billowing clouds of his own frozen breath.
Until finally, after what seemed like hours, he managed to find a whitish light that didn't come from the fungi.
At first he stared in disbelief, unable to quite believe he had succeeded, but when he approached, the brightness did nothing but intensify. A tired, almost inexistent, smile, emerged to his lips.
'Finally.'
However, his instincts as a spy, did not allow the joy to make him neglectful. Distrustful, he continued to advance along the wall, supporting himself in it, and carefully observing his surroundings for any sign of the monster, before advancing a step further, gradually, toward the exit.
The fresh outside air brushed his face just a few steps from the mouth of the cave. Before him, a small clearing covered by snow and gray daylight, welcomed him outside.
He had never seen such a beautiful landscape.
At the time, even the exquisite gardens of Malfoy Manor wouldn't have seem more beautiful.
The cold breeze clearing his mind, and making him shiver even more. But he didn't care. For the first time in days, he felt alive.
Draco breathed deeply, enjoying a moment respite before approaching the task at hand; looking for the way to Hogwarts.
Orienting himself was difficult in the forest. And the softly falling snowflakes, had long since covered all traces, that could had helped.
Not knowing which direction to choose, but determined to leave, he took a random way, opting to maintain the same constant direction.
Sooner or later he would come out of the forest, and once at the edge it wouldn't be so difficult to find the way… if he managed to reach so far. Even if he didn't find any acromantula, or other creatures in his way, the greenery could still attack him, as he had seen before.
However, remaining wasn't an option.
So climbing with utmost care to the trunks for support when needed, teeth clenched, little by little, he started walking.
oOo
Snow fell on his hair, crystallizing in his silver strands, on his shoulders, on his lashes ... he was freezing. Couldn't stop shaking.
The cold was beginning to fog his mind, and nausea was coming back. He was exhausted.
So when the spy heard it, he took a moment to react and recognize the sound.
Shouting.
Agonized shrieks of horror, tinged with excruciating pain ... that reminded him of the night the acromantulas attacked.
Draco swallowed, stepping back instinctively.
He was about to turn around, and get away from there as fast as his weak legs could. But at the last moment, he hesitated. Perhaps the dullness in his brain, played a role in his decision as well.
It was to expect the ones dieing where death eaters, as no one else would have entered the forest. Those were wizards that would soon leave their wands behind... and if Draco could take one for himself, returning home wouldn't be as difficult.
Yet, it was risky. The monster could be there, or the acromantulas could attack him. Even the greenery could do so. But he couldn't hope to understand how the trees would react to him, or if they would at all. As they had not until now. Strange as it was.
And if he waited for the arachnids to finish their meal first, so they left what remained of the corpses and their possessions behind, he could make it.
oOo
Draco remained hidden between trees and tall spines, as he carefully pushed aside the last branches that prevented him from seeing the clearing.
What appeared before him ... was a butchery.
Blood.
There was blood everywhere. Staining the snow red in violent patterns, marking trees with almost sickening splashes of brutality. Trickling from the living roots of the same trees, and the pieces of meat tangled in their claw-like thorns.
It stained the jaws of the acromantulas that plagued the place, devouring their prey.
Limbs and entrails scattered on the floor between remnants of broken bodies, shattered bone, and reduced to rags bloody black robes.
Death Eaters.
As he had thought.
They must have tried to penetrate the forest.
'What a nonsense.' All they were going to accomplish was death. In fact, there were only a few left standing ...
A movement caught his eye, and he recognized the great acromantula. Shivering, he forced himself still, so as not to be spotted.
A dozen Death Eaters had managed to surround him. Combining forces to try to stop the enormous arachnid, but it was obvious that their efforts weren't having any success.
Spells and curses crackled in the air like whips, but the moment they came into contact with chitin, dissolved like water against an invisible force.
Even the unforgivables had no effect.
Draco had never seen anything like it.
The spider moved with the speed of a scorpion, confusing his attackers, pushing and throwing them, while brandishing his steely clamps like execution blades.
Tearing tissue with insulting ease, injecting venom, and watching the wizards twist at his feet, before crushing them almost compassionately.
Unstoppable, brutal and savage. Blood wetly spattering him red.
Then it happened.
One of the Death Eaters managed a spell, that since wasn't directed against the monster, served its purpose.
"Incarcerous!"
Thick ropes appeared from nowhere to immobilize and knock the arachnid down. His massive body collapsed on the floor.
Draco held his breath. For a moment, his heart seemed to stop, and then accelerate rapidly. For a second he did not know what he was feeling, or going through. Something inside him seemed to be screaming. Why? For what?
"Relasio."
And the ropes were gone.
It was as if someone had stopped time. Horror, surprise, disbelief, paralyzing all humans left standing, including Draco. The hissing sound, the mostly human voice the spell was uttered in, told him something he already knew.
"He knows magic!"
The Cries of the Death Eaters joined with that on Draco's mind, breaking into pieces the sudden burial calm. Like a stone against glass. Breaking the moment in a burst of action. But it was already too late, the monster was on his feet.
Harry was starting to get angry, tired of these constant attacks, his patience was running short.
More now, when the spider pushed to get it over with as soon as possible, and return to the nest where his submissive awaited. Insistently clawing at the back of his mind, urging him to provide for the slytherin. To make sure he was okay.
Harry hissed internally and prepared to attack ... when the scent reached him.
Exotic, sweet, lush, sensual ... full of life.
Malfoy was ... pregnant ...
And he was there, putting himself in danger!
The notion made him put more force than necessary in the next attack, effectively decapitating with his jaws, the Death Eater before him. Blood bathing his face like a red spout. Looking around, ignoring the men still standing. Looking for the place it came from.
His gaze met Draco's.
The blond man stood in the snow, wrapped in furs that belonged to his nest, shaking with cold, peeking through the branches of the edge of the clearing. Lips almost blue, and snow glistening in his hair and shoulders like tiny sparkling ice crystals.
He looked exhausted, leaning precariously against the trunk of a tree, as if he could not support himself. His eyes, when their gazes meet, strangely intense. Gray as a storm about to break, tumultuous. There was fear in them, but also a determination that was greater than the weakness.
A strange gaze.
Harry knew then, he could sink into that intensity.
And for a moment he wished to possess that look, as he had never wanted anything.
oOo
Draco felt trapped by that insidious gaze. He could be swallowed by its murderous and poisonous green, so much like the flash of kedavra avada, and never return.
He stepped back.
The Death Eater saw him before anyone else even realized, what was happening. And when he wanted to react, it was too late.
"Crucio."
The curse knocked him to the ground cutting the communion between their eyes.
Suddenly tearing the gray gaze from the green, and from a so perfectly strange moment, in which, for the first time, they had looked real and deeply into each other.
The unexpected and sudden separation, left Draco disoriented during the split second it took for the pain, to brandish his spinal cord like a tongue of fire.
He howled.
The intensity of the spell cracked his bones and burned his blood, traveling through his nerves, synapses firing flashes at the edge of his capacity for suffering. He couldn't think, hardly even react. He was not even aware of the freezing cold snow against his bare skin, or the blood running from the corner of his lips as his vocal cords threatened to break with his screams.
And something inside him tore.
oOo
"Crucio!"
The sound reached Harry, but his mind did not register its meaning until the eyes he had been submerged in, closed in pain, and Malfoy collapsed in the snow convulsing, a cry of agony on his lips.
Instinct overwhelmed him.
The spider made his way from the depths of his consciousness, tearing into everything in his path with insane fury. The urge to protect his submissive was irresistible.
The Death Eater who had cast the curse did not even see it coming.
Harry opened him like a pig for slaughter, slashing him in a quick and cruel arc, from the base of his neck to the pubis. The remains of his organs spilled through the opening, while the man screamed and collapsed in a pool of his own blood and viscera. His gaze helplessly stuck on his killer, as it quickly glazed in death.
Draco felt the spell finally stop, but the pain did only change in nature. It was as if the attack had finally succeeded in tearing his organs.
Inside he felt weird, humid and hot. He was sure that something had opened, torn, his vital liquid flowing in internal bleeding. Pulling him to death and oblivion.
He was getting dizzy ... but found he didn't have the strength to care, because suddenly everything was swallowed by the darkness of unconsciousness.
oOo
(Harry)
The smell of his companion's blood was powerful and fragrant, like a wilted flower preserved in linen cloth. Strangely melancholic.
Malfoy had fallen unconscious before he even reached him, the pain still on his face, and the subtle quiver of his eyelids and muscles. The blood on his thighs was starting to dye the snow a deep red. And when he lifted the blonde carefully in his arms, the carmine liquid also painted him in its garish shade.
"If I don't do something, he will lose the hatchling." The idea threatened to flood him with panic. He couldn't bring Malfoy to father again, not so soon.
He closed his eyes remembering that there were others who could help in the woods.
He turned to the nearest acromantula while he brought the blond against his chest, preparing to take the long way to his lair.
"Go and tell Soul my mate is in danger of losing our young. I will wait for him in my nest." he commanded.
The spider issued a hiss of understanding.
Harry ran without waiting to see if he was obeyed.
There was no need. He knew he would be.
To be continue.
Notes:
There it goes the sixth chapter. A little prelude for things to come, hope you like it.
On the other hand, my beta and I have good news; from now on "Spiderweb" will be published every monday. Once a week like a clock. ;)
See you next Monday.