Tuesday and Wednesday pass in agony. Every time he shifts his ribs grind against each other and he has to hobble on his sprained ankle.
Draco has been in a terrible mood for the past two days. They barely speak. Thankfully after dinner Draco just shuts himself in his study and ignores Harry till bed.
On Tuesday he'd sent Hermione a letter that only read. "Hermione. Don't ever do that again. Harry." He didn't want to write more, in case, as he fears, Draco can somehow monitor what he sends. He knows that the sentence will only make Hermione more concerned, justify what she'd written to him. Harry isn't sure if that's what he wants or not, but that's what he sent.
It isn't till Thursday morning that Draco gives Harry a once over with his wand that he's put back together. Draco doesn't even give Harry a warning, just all of a sudden a phrase is muttered and his ribs snap back into place, knocking the wind out of him. At least his ankle just feels better.
He finally feels a semblance of normal on Thursday, which gives him a small boost of energy.
Draco steps into the Floo and Hary's left alone in the house. He can actually get up and move around instead of painfully going to lie down after making Draco breakfast.
He'd done a lot of reading, though. Herbal Experimentation was almost finished, complete with notations in the margins, which made Harry feel very scholarly.
He wants to brew, but the ingredients are all Draco's, he will have to ask permission to use them, and it's not the week for that.
Instead, Harry places himself at Draco's desk for the morning and looks between Potions Mastery Volume I and Herbal Experimentation. He makes sure that he fully understands every ingredient that goes into the Blood-Replenishing potion, then looks for a few more that he thinks he could make next.
After a few hours of that, Harry takes a break to cry.
He isn't sure if Draco would ever actually let him brew. He gets a tear stain on one of Snape's pages, which makes him cry harder. Then he feels like he's a baby, which makes him cry harder.
The letters are delivered by Draco's owl after Harry has moved his sobbing the couch.
No letters from Hermione today.
One letter from Luna. It's on a partially crumpled piece of paper. There are ten red exclamation points, small, then a note underneath them, "Write me back, Mr. Malfoy."
He knows it's for him. Harry is Mr. Mafloy. Harry Malfoy, legally, just not colloquially.
Toward the bottom of the stack is one more letter addressed to Harry.
In neat, all caps, Mister Potter, is written on the envelope. It's Snape's handwriting.
Harry breaks the seal quickly. The note is short and pithy.
'Potter,
I hope that I haven't killed you by giving you a potion too hard to brew. If you're having trouble stop by.
Again, no appointment necessary.
-S. Snape.'
It makes Harry smile. Then cry again.
He has friends. Hermione, Ron, apparently Professor Snape, and Luna. He could leave Draco. His life isn't over now.
Harry looks up at the top of the fireplace. There's a black box, carved ebony, with his wand sitting inside.
He thought that looking at it would give him a burst of inspiration, some of the bravado he used to have in school. Instead, it only makes his stomach plummet.
I'll kill someone. I'll never get a job without Draco. Minerva only wants to hire me because Draco kept what I did out of the papers. He did that for me. He takes care of me, always.
No, Harry's life is over, and he ended it for himself over a year ago.
Harry flushes the two letters down the toilet and tries to forget that tomorrow is his birthday.
Later that night is strange. Harry is caught off guard by it, which makes him even more anxious since he is already trying to prepare himself for tomorrow.
Draco gets home late. Only fifteen minutes past five, but still, it's noticeable.
Harry curses the fact that dinner is cooling by now, but Draco doesn't mention it. He actually apologizes to Harry for being late and says it's his fault that dinner has gone cool.
It disarms Harry, which worries him even more.
After dinner Draco again has Remmy clean the dining table and kitchen, pulling Harry by the hand into the living room. Draco pushes Harry down onto the couch and tells him to wait for just a moment while he disappears into the study.
Draco reappears with a small box. Not a wrapped gift, but a flimsy white pastry box. Draco sets it down on the coffee table and grins at Harry. "Open it," he encourages.
Harry reaches for the lid of the box. He feels like he's being tricked and falters for a second. Maybe Draco is trying to see if he's really given up on his birthday or not. Harry looks up and meets Draco's eyes. They look clear, not clouded with any of the darkness that's been so present recently.
Feeling better Harry lifts the lid to the box. It's a round cake, chocolate by the look of it. Scrawled in thin black frosting on the top is, Happy Birthday Harry.
He tries to hold back a grin when he looks up at Draco, his lips wobbling a bit.
"I..." He starts and doesn't know what to say. Does he say thank you? Does he still not acknowledge his birthday? Does he pull Draco into a kiss?
Draco speaks instead. He gets down on his knees in front of Harry, sitting between Harry's legs, facing the man. Draco looks up at Harry and reaches to hold the sides of his face with his hands.
He looks so sweet from this angle, Harry takes in his green eyes and flushed cheeks. "I love you, Harry," Draco says and pulls Harry's head down to give him a small kiss. It's a soft kiss, but their lips linger on each other for a long time.
When they finally pull away, Harry notices wet tear marks tracking down Draco's cheeks.
"Draco," Harry says softly and brushes some of the tears away with his thumb. Draco leans into the touch and more tears well up. He rests his head in Harry's lap, his back shaking slightly. Harry runs a soothing hand over Draco's back. "What's all this about, Drac?" Harry asks, gently.
It's a few moments before either of them moves. Draco finally sits back up, sitting lower down on his thighs now, having to look high up at Harry. "I'm so sorry Harry," Draco says, it's almost a whisper. "I've been terrible to you. Can you forgive me?"
Much like Draco fixing his broken rib this morning, Harry feels like the wind has been knocked out of him. His mind reels. Is this real? He thinks.
Draco looks sadder the longer Harry goes without speaking.
Finally, Harry grabs Draco's forearms and pulls him onto the couch. Harry sits back against the armrest and pulls Draco against his chest, holding his husband tight. "I love you too Draco. I know you're sorry." He buries his head in the nook between Draco's neck and shoulder.
They lay together for a few minutes. Harry waits for the ball to drop. He doesn't understand what's going on but he likes Draco like this, he'll do anything he can to keep him this happy.
Finally, Draco stirs and gets up off the couch. He returns with a knife, two plates, and two forks.
They eat cake together. Draco doesn't say anything about Harry's body, he just asks if Harry likes it. They don't talk much aside from that. The silence is almost awkward, like when they first started dating.
When they go to bed Draco not-too-shyly asks Harry if he wants head but Harry just shakes his head, honestly.
"Just hold me tonight."
And Draco does.
The next morning Harry makes breakfast with a new demeanor. He's happy to wake up and make Draco something that he likes. He knows it's a hard day for the man.
On July 31st, two years ago, Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy were sentenced to life in Azkaban.
Harry would never tell Draco this, but he agrees with Lucius Malfoy's sentencing. The man committed unforgivable acts and never seemed overly remorseful, even in his trial.
Narcissa, on the other hand, took a lot of falls for Draco. Many things that she testified having done Draco directly told Harry she didn't do, but her confessions got Draco off with barely a slap on the wrist. Not to mention he was able to keep most of the Malfoy estate.
Draco hates this day, and part of him blames Harry. That's not just a notion Harry has, that's what Draco had told him on his last birthday.
When Draco comes down for breakfast, it's better than Harry could have expected. The man is quieter than usual, terse, but he hasn't said anything hurtful yet. He eats breakfast quickly, and efficiently, mumbles to Harry that he'll be home much later than usual, and leaves.
This leaves Harry staring into the Floo after Draco, still at a loss.
Draco stayed out late last year too. Harry wonders if he's going to go to Azkaban again. It's not like Draco will ever get to see them. Last year he tried to petition the courts by saying he needed to speak with his parents regarding an encrypted financial account, but it hadn't worked. Maybe he'll try something new this year.
Harry spends most of the day lounging around, reading just a little bit. Around six he prepares something cold for dinner that they can have at any time.
After dinner is done and Harry has exhausted all of the distraction techniques he knows, he lets a wave of emotions roll over him.
He thought he was fine. Draco is in a good mood and tonight won't be that bad, but his stomach feels otherwise.
Fruitlessly, Harry tries the front door. He wants to talk to somebody, anybody other than Draco, but he can't get out.
From 6:45 to 10:30 Harry drifts in and out of nightmares on the couch. Several times he wakes up with a shout and a start and thinks he'll get up and do something else, but his head pounds and he always ends up back on the couch, sitting in anxious nausea until his eyes close for a few minutes.
The Floo alights around half past ten.
Draco stumbles out, drunk, and shaking his head as if to sober himself. Draco locks eyes with Harry and grins. It isn't the sweet, disarming grin that he wore last night, this is his cold, evil smile.
Harry is still groggy from having been asleep. He blinks a few times and pushes himself back into the couch.
"Welcome home, Draco," he says, quietly, trying to get a read on the man.
Draco doesn't speak, just stumbles forward a few more steps, and falls into Harry's lap, straddling him.
Instantly Draco locks lips with Harry. It's rough and so forceful that their front teeth knock against one another. Draco's tongue slides into Harry's mouth and Draco's hands pull Harry to him. One of Draco's hands roughly tugs at his black hair, and another claws at his sweater.
Harry returns the kiss for a moment, then tries to pull his head away. Draco doesn't let up on his grip.
Eventually, Harry turns his head to the side so Draco's kissing his cheek. "Draco," he says pointedly.
Draco sits back on Harry's knees, dejected.
"You don't want to?"
"I don't know, you just got home," Harry responds.
Overall he doesn't feel overwhelmingly scared. Draco isn't being physically aggressive, he's just being a little rough, but he's stopped now. In the past, Draco has been mostly good about respecting Harry's wishes when it comes to sex. Honestly, Harry's usually in the mood too.
It was just so jarring to wake up and instantly have Draco on top of him.
Draco scowls at Harry. "So you don't want to." He repeats as a statement and stands up off of Harry's lap, looking ticked off.
"No, honestly, I'm not in the mood right now," He says, feeling sheepish. Usually, Harry wouldn't feel so much trepidation in saying that, but something is off.
"Are you kidding me? I celebrated your fucking birthday."
Well, yesterday, but.
"I'm sorry," Hary swallows a lump in his throat. "Let me have a drink, loosen up, I'm sure I'll be in the mood if you just give me a moment."
"Oh, so you have to be drunk to want to sleep with me?" Draco asks, incredulously.
Harry begins to defend himself, then shuts his mouth. Draco grabs a fistful of Harry's hair and pulls him onto the floor in front of the couch.
He brings his arms up as usual as if he'll be able to defend himself this time. Harry tries to make eye contact with Draco, to understand what the man is feeling right now.
Harry is scared now.
Draco straddles Harry again, on the floor and goes back to forcefully kissing him.
Harry struggles and pushes against Draco's torso. Draco pulls away for long enough to slam both of Harry's wrists into the floor, pinning him to the ground, then starts biting at Harry's neck.
Truly struggling now, Harry brings a knee up and tries to get Draco off of him. "Draco! Please," he calls out but Draco doesn't stop.
His knee makes contact with Draco's abdomen, which enrages him.
Holding one wrist tightly onto the ground, Draco temporarily lets go of Harry's other hand. Immediately Harry tries to push Draco away, but Draco grabs Harry by the collar of his shirt and pulls him up, only to slam his head into the ground.
Disorientated, Harry's attempts at fighting back become much weaker for a moment. Draco seizes the opportunity and stands.
Draco kicks Harry squarely in the ribs and Harry convulses, curling in on himself. There's another kick, this one just pinches at Harry's arms and hands that are trying to protect himself.
There's a temporary pause, Harry thinks that maybe Draco's done, then he feels a hand grab the back of his sweater. Draco has his wand out, he mutters and draws the wand down Harry's front. The sweater comes apart into two, the front of it singing apart all the way down. Harry's left with a red-hot sear mark down the front of his chest.
Draco rips the rest of the sweater off and grabs Harry by his hair, pulling him out of the living room and up the stairs. He wants to fight back, but if he doesn't at least follow a little his hair will be ripped out.
Harry cries out and Draco throws him onto the floor again.
"Draco, don't do this, please. I'll forgive you if you stop now. We don't have to ever think about it again." He promises, not realizing that he's sobbing until he opens his mouth.
It doesn't work, Draco isn't placated.
The next kick goes into the small of Harry's back. Harry yelps pitifully and falls sideways, cracking his chin on the hardwood floor. His upper tooth bites through his lower lip and starts to bleed in a steady stream.
There's more wand waving and muttering, a rope appears from nowhere and binds Harry's hands together behind his back.
Harry struggles but he's running out of strength even as adrenaline pumps through his veins.
He wants Draco to say something, anything, but the man doesn't.
Harry is pulled ungracefully to his knees, and his cheek and glasses, bent beyond fixing no doubt, are pushed into the floor. Harry's chest is to the ground and his ass is up, being palmed by Draco.
He doesn't try to say anything more, just sobs openly into the ground.
Harry's pants are pulled down, just enough. There's the sound of rustling, another muttering, and then he feels the lubed tip of Draco's penis pressing against his backside.
"Please!" He gives one last effort and tries to pull away, Draco holds his hips in an inescapable grip. Harry is weak, borderline malnourished, without magic he can't escape Draco.
Draco is pushing in all at once and Harry can't help the scream that comes out of him. He doesn't care who hears, he wants someone to hear, and he wants help. There's no one though. Harry's sure that the wards on the house are secure enough to soundproof it.
Draco pulls out, then goes back in.
Harry checks out, his body goes limp.
He thinks about Hermione, he wished that he responded to her nicer. He wonders if she's mad at him for the rude letter he sent back. He hopes he can make it up to her.
Then his mind drifts to Luna. He had figured that the cryptic letter was because of what had happened to him on Monday. He considers now that she was trying to warn him about this.
Harry is forced back into the present by the slapping of Draco's hand against his lower back and ass. Draco is hitting as hard as he possibly can and the force of it sends a spasm through Harry's body making him twitch with each blow.
It doesn't take very long before Draco finishes, ejaculating into Harry's sore hole.
Draco stands and puts himself away back into his pants. He undoes the spell holding Harry's hands together.
It's a few minutes before Harry finally moves.
His bones and joints creek as if he's old, not used to the strain of being fucked (raped?) in such a position.
The room looks foreign and Harry's head spins. His lip is still bleeding.
Everything comes back to him at once and Harry clambers to his feet. He feels and is sure he looks like a caged animal. He hastily buttons his pants and finally looks at Draco.
Draco reaches for him and Harry backs up a few paces, eyes like dinner plates. Draco takes one step forward and Hary bolts.
He tries to get his glasses to sit on his nose properly as he flies down the stairs. He doesn't even know where he's going. Why is he running? It's not like I can get out of this bloody house.
Draco is quick after him.
"Harry! Stop!" Draco bellows.
They've come to the front door. Harry runs his hands over it like a dog scratching to be let out. Nothing happens.
Draco has caught up to him and slams Harry into the door.
Harry fights back now, not like he's trying to get Draco off of him, but really fights back. He kicks and scratches and screams at Draco to get away from him.
Draco has the upper hand though, and keeps it. He feels fingers go to the back of his head. Draco grabs Harry's hair and turns him around, slamming his face into the door with incredible strength. There's a snap, then a bloody nose.
All the hairs on Harry's body stand on end.
The lights flicker in the house, then turn all the way off, neither of them can see in the dark for a moment, then a faint green aura emanates off of Harry's skin. Harry can just faintly see in Draco's eyes that he looks afraid.
Harry holds his hands out in front of him, making eye contact with Draco again, Harry feels such incredible rage that Draco is forced back several feet by magic. He's able to stay standing, though, and instantly pulls his wand.
Harry considers, briefly, before turning to face the door. He holds his hand over the knob and focuses all of his energy. He tries the door handle and it opens as if it was never locked.
With his last adrenaline rush of the evening, Harry bolts out of the door and slams it behind him. He doesn't know if it's locked or if Draco is right behind him, so he dashes up the street, taking the first turn that he can.
He's shirtless, in the middle of London, on a Friday night, and a celebrity.
Harry turns a couple of corners. He doesn't know where to go, he doesn't know anybody in London.
He doesn't want to go to the hospital or the police. He doesn't know what he wants but that's too big of a step right now.
Without realizing it he's ended up in Knockturn Alley, maybe his feet were taking him to the Leaky Cauldron.
Severus Snape. Appointments Only.
Harry doesn't even consider before banging on the man's door. He doesn't care that it's probably almost midnight, he bangs as loud and hard as he can until neighbors start to open their upstairs windows and scream at him to shut up.
Finally, thankfully, Snape opens the door.
A streetlamp illuminates the sneer on Snape's lip, the curl of disgust in his brows. The judgment drops from Snape's face though as soon as he sees the sight before him.
Harry takes a step toward Snape, then all the energy leaves his body and he falls unconscious into the man's arms.
