Massive massive trigger warning. This is a rape/domestic violence recovery fic. Draco is very abusive toward Harry. No rape in the first chapter but it will happen and this is your only warning. Main severus/Harry, happy ending.
Harry grips the edges of the sink in the Leaky Cauldron, centering himself. He takes a few deep breaths and splashes water on his face, icy cold, making his muscles tense up.
The doorknob turns a little, jiggling. "Just a second," Harry calls, rushed.
He looks into the mirror, it's a grimy, typical bar mirror, he sees himself through a layer of smudges. His face looks distorted, wrong. Harry wipes at the mirror with his sweater sleeve, clearing a portion of it. Still wrong. It's the glamors. No one else would see anything wrong, but Harry feels fundamentally disconnected from the face in the mirror. He touches his cheekbone lightly and winces, but there's no visible mark.
The doorknob jiggles again, this time with more force.
Harry runs a hand through his hair then unlocks the door and wrenches it open. The wizard standing at the precipice looks like he has an insult loaded on his tongue but he holds it when he sees Harry's face, simply giving him a nod. Isn't it so great to be Harry Potter? He thinks bitterly.
People are all over the Leaky Cauldron. Par for the course at nine in the evening on a Friday. It's loud, Harry tries not to look bothered as he walks back to his booth. Before he can make it halfway across the room Draco catches his eye and holds four fingers up, then points to the bar.
Right.
Harry detours to the bar and gets four more pints for his friends. He really doesn't want another pint, his stomach is starting to protest from so little food and so much alcohol. Not to mention beer which has filled his stomach uncomfortably and left him bloated and cramped.
Standing at the bar waiting for the tender to pour his drinks, Harry feels a heavy hand clap on his back. He flinches, but it's loud and cramped at the bar so he plays it off by leaning an elbow on the bartop, acting like that was his plan all along.
He tries to casually look up at the offender, expecting Draco or one of his friends. Instead, it's Seamus Finnegan. Harry groans internally but plasters a smile on his face.
"Harry!" Seamus cries, happily. He pulls Harry into a hug, pressing harshly against a broken rib.
Harry's gasp of pain is played off as a happy gasp of surprise. "Hey Seamus, how've you been mate?" Harry asks, pulling out of the embrace. His beers are ready, he throws some coins on the bar.
"Not too bad, but blimey Harry no one's heard from you in months, where've you gotten off to?" By 'no one's heard from you' Harry is certain Seamus means there have been no articles published about him. It's not like Harry's been keeping in frequent contact with acquaintances from Hogwarts.
Harry shrugs with an easy smile. "I've been here!" He exclaims, joking, then grabs the four beers from the counter. He wants to get them all in one trip, but his arms are weaker than they used to be and he struggles to keep them all upright, two in each hand.
Seamus quickly grabs two of the beers from Harry. "Where you sitting? I'll get these for you?" He offers. Stupidly helpful.
Harry doesn't know how to shake Seamus so instead he walks back to his booth. Draco flashes him a wide smile and eagerly reaches for his pint. Seamus sets the other two down in front of Ron and Hermione.
Seamus begins an easy back-and-forth with the two other Gryffindors as Harry silently wishes he would just go away.
Draco slings an arm over Harry's shoulder and nudges him into his side. Harry gets the point and snuggles up under Draco's arm. Draco pulls Harry's drink closer to the man, subtly telling him to drink it. Harry's stomach protests as soon as he smells the alcohol, but he soldiers on and takes a few hearty swigs.
Finally, Seamus goes back to his friends.
Ron marvels after Seamus as if he were a celebrity. "Seamus bloody Finnegan, crazy, right mate?" He has a half smile as he turns back to Harry.
Shrugging, Harry makes a non-commital noise. "We're at the Leaky Cauldron, could see anyone."
"Just weird to think that we used to sleep next to the bloke and now we don't even see him once a year. When was the last time?" Ron sits back, pondering.
"The wedding, I think," Hermione interjects and Ron nods sagely.
Ron's cheeks are tinged pink, he's pretty drunk already. Hermione is only on her second, keeping it together a little better than her boyfriend.
Harry is tipsier than he'd like to be and knows that the next drink will send him over the threshold. Draco never seems to get too intoxicated. He saves that for home.
"What are you doing for your birthday, Harry?" Hermione asks, innocently. He's mad because he told her earlier this summer that he would be busy on his birthday. He doesn't want to think about it.
It's next weekend. I forgot. Finally. He'd been hoping to finally drive his birthday out of his head. Harry has only celebrated one birthday with Draco. They got together shortly after his birthday two years ago. It had been terrible.
That was the first night that Draco hit him. Really hit him.
"Draco's taking me on holiday." Harry's had enough drinks to sound deadpan, not as good of an actor anymore.
"Ohh," Hermione squeals, "where to Draco?"
Draco smiles coyly, "It's a secret," he says, then glances over at Harry "lovingly" to drive the point forward. He looks back toward Hermione and Ron, shields Harry's eyes with a hand, then mouths something. Harry has no idea what he mouths, it doesn't matter, it's a lie anyway.
The answer seems to make Hermione ecstatic though. "See Ron, you could learn a thing or two," she jokes.
Please don't, Harry thinks, miserably. His attitude is tanking as he makes his way through the beer.
Ron just shakes his head, "Fun and all but one year you're gonna have to let his friends have him for a chance." Ron argues. Draco doesn't respond, acting like he's too busy drinking. Draco had Harry last year and this year for his birthday.
They all go back to their drinks for a few minutes.
Hermione rummages through her purse for a moment then seems to notice something and pulls a newspaper clipping out. She smoothes the crinkles out and hands it over the table to Harry. "Did you see this, Harry?"
Hogwarts DADA Position Still Needs Filling. It's a brief article, Minerva gave a two-line statement about the nature of the job and how unconventional it is for Hogwarts to be accepting, what, applications? Harry isn't quite sure how that would work. Typically the headmaster appoints someone, but they've seen how that went for the DADA position the past few years.
"Ah, no I hadn't seen that." He replies, noncommittally. He isn't even lying, he doesn't read the Daily Prophet. He is concealing the truth though. Minerva had Owled him personally about the position. He'd even gathered the courage to bring it up to Draco.
["You're seriously considering this Harry?" Draco had asked, clutching the letter tightly in his grip.
Harry had set the scene perfectly. Dinner had been ready for Draco when he got home, two fingers of whiskey were poured for him, then Harry took the man's boots off and sat in his lap while Draco read his own mail. He'd tucked the letter from Minverva at the bottom so Draco would get to it last.
"I just thought maybe I could get out of the house a little." Harry offered, glad he was sitting on Draco's thighs so he wouldn't have to make eye contact with the man.
"Haven't I told you a million times? If you want out of the house I need a secretary, come to work with me. This isn't just getting out of the house, this is being gone for months. Most of the year." Draco bit back and tossed the letter on the floor.
"I'm sorry Drac, I wasn't thinking about that."
"Yeah, you don't do that much, do you?"
Harry didn't respond, not sure how to diffuse the situation.
Draco sighed loudly and pulled Harry tight into his arms, too tight, the grip was painful like a vice. Draco rested his chin on the top of Harry's head.
"Help me understand Harry. Are you unhappy? Do you detest me so much that you want to leave me all alone here?"
"No!" Harry retorted, quickly. "I just feel a bit useless here while you're off working for the both of us."
"That's alright Harry," Draco loosened his grip a little. "You're not useless. You've been through so much, you're still recovering. Let's give it more time." Draco carded his hands through Harry's hair. "Plus I like to take care of you."
Draco poured himself another tall glass of whiskey.
Harry doesn't like to remember the rest of the night.]
"You would just be so perfect for the job." Hermione gushes.
Harry wants to cry all of a sudden, the drinks are really getting to him. His eyes mist up and he looks down a bit. He is perfect for the job and the thought of being back in the confines of Hogwarts makes the ever-present panic in his chest abate slightly.
Draco looks at him and sees he's struggling. "It is a wonderful opportunity, Hermione, but Harry's just not ready to go back to work yet," Draco answers for him. Harry nods sullenly in agreement.
Hermione reaches across the table and squeezes Harry's hand. "That's okay Harry, I'm sorry for pushing it."
Harry shakes his head and wipes his face. "That's alright 'Mione, thanks for thinking of me."
They all finish their last drinks at about the same time. Ron gets touchy when he's drunk and he has an arm slung over Hermione's shoulder, looking very antsy to get home.
"It's late, two Fridays from now?" Draco offers, skipping over Harry's birthday with ease.
"Two Fridays from now," Ron agrees with an eager bob of his head. He stands and holds a hand out for Hermione to get up as well. He presses a sloppy kiss against her cheek and Hermione just bushes and grins. His friends are happy, happier than he ever saw them in school. Harry's glad for them, but the feeling is cut through with a pang of jealousy. He feels self-centered, can't even be happy for my own friends without feeling miserable about myself.
Ron gives him a hug first, a quick, 'bro' sort of thing where they clap each other on their backs. Hermione gives him a hug next, this one longer, sadder. She knows something, Harry surmises as much. A few months ago he ran into her unexpectedly and she saw bruises on his neck. Since then she's been treating him differently, a bit more fragile. He doesn't understand why it doesn't keep her from antagonizing Draco though. His birthday, a job? It's like Hermione wanted Draco to get riled up.
Hermione and Ron exit through the Floo, and Harry and Draco exit through the front door. They have a "townhouse" a few blocks up. It's the middle of an important Wizengamot session so they've been staying in the heart of the city instead of the country recently.
It's busy outside the Cauldron as well, a few wizards and witches stand around smoking cigarettes and chatting. They smile at Harry, and Draco, who has his arm protectively around Harry's shoulders.
As they wind through tight intersections and narrow alleyways Draco's arm finally falls from Harry's shoulders. He stands a pace away from the man, showing his clear feelings at the moment.
Harry trails behind Draco, head hung slightly. Tears mist the sides of his eyes.
He tries so hard every time they're out with his friends to keep the peace. At first, Harry was grateful that Draco lets him have a night out every few weeks and with Ron and Hermione at that, but he quickly learned there is no way to win on those nights.
The first time Harry acted normally, open with his friends, thinking that Draco was easing up a bit. He hadn't been so bad in those days in the first place. It hadn't gone over well. The next time Harry was withdrawn, didn't say much, that was even worse. The time after he'd tried talking Draco up, focusing entirely on him, also not right.
So now he was stuck in a place where he was too afraid to speak freely with his friends, what if he said something wrong? But he couldn't just say nothing at all, then he'd be acting ungratefully towards Draco for taking him out.
It would be something tonight. Harry didn't know what, yet, but it would be something.
They pass through Knockturn Alley. Harry searches the dark shops for a familiar sign. He lags a little behind Draco when he sees it. Severus Snape. Appointment Only.
The sign makes Harry smile for some absurd reason, every time he sees it. He noticed it for the first time at the beginning of the summer, early June. Harry doesn't even hold any great love for Professor Snape. He is eternally grateful that the man ended up on 'their' side, but he'd never been particularly nice to Harry, most times downright nasty.
Still, though, the sign was very Snape. It didn't say what the man did (potions, Harry would assume); it was very clear that one could not just enter his shop; and there was no information on how one would be able to contact Professor Snape to set up this appointment.
It's familiar, that's what Harry likes about it. He's changed so much, everything about his life has changed so much, but Snape is Snape.
Thoughts about Hogwarts- the professors, the dorms, the students- all make Harry feel marginally better. Talk about peaking in high school, Harry thinks.
Harry doesn't realize how far he's lagged behind until Draco sends a glare over his shoulder and Harry scurries to catch up.
Finally, they make it to the tall building, tightly nestled between other upscale domiciles. Harry doesn't know who the neighbors are. He doesn't get out very often. There are wards all over the house to make sure Harry doesn't leave.
Draco opens the door for him and ushers him in with a flourish of his hand. Harry is still a little unsteady on his feet and stumbles slightly on the way in.
"Pour me a drink, please, Harry?" Draco asks as he steps into the house, pulling his jacket off and leaving him in just his slacks and white button-down.
Harry nods and takes his own coat off, Draco takes it for him. There's a house elf that could do all of these things, but Draco likes to act domestic.
The whiskey is kept in Draco's study. The bottle is running out soon, Harry will have to make a shopping list. Maybe Draco would let him go out to do the shopping.
He pours a tall glass, four fingers. He knows Draco would rather have too much than too little.
Draco has taken up residence on the large green velvet couch in the living room, there are a few candles flickering. He undoes a couple of the top buttons of his shirt and Harry can't help but think he looks handsome.
Harry has desperately attempted to despise Draco, but he can't. The man is, unfortunately, right about many things in Harry's life, and there was a time that he treated him very well.
The crystal glass is set on the end table and Draco pulls Harry into his lap. Harry sits across Draco's thighs and nestles against his chest. Draco had gotten tall since Hogwarts while Harry stayed short. Frame wise they'd always been about the same, lithe, athletic builds, but Draco liked Harry skinny so now Harry was smaller than Draco in every aspect.
They sit on the couch together and just breathe for a few minutes. Harry lets himself go as calm as he can. Maybe if I can just fall asleep... he thinks, but he doubts that would work. It's not like Draco would lovingly carry him upstairs to bed.
Draco downs the whiskey scary quick, only a few large gulps, and the amber liquid is gone, working itself through Draco's already alcohol-riddled blood.
"What are you thinking about?" Draco asks Harry, running a hand through his shaggy curls. Draco's hand trails over Harry's face as Harry cranes his neck to look up at him. He trails a finger under Harry's jaw, then up the side of his face. His fingers curl around the frames of Harry's glasses. He begins to tug them off. Harry brings a hand up to stop him, he hates not having his glasses on, especially when he's intoxicated. Draco just cocks an eyebrow at Harry and tugs harder. Harry gives up, not wanting to deal with another pair of broken glasses, and lets himself be blinded.
It's nauseating but he tries to take deep breaths. Harry looks up at Draco, eyes unfocused. "You." He responds.
Draco smiles at him, through the blur it looks more like Draco's baring his teeth.
"I don't believe you," Draco responds, it sounds mocking.
Harry doesn't know what to say. What was I thinking about? My glasses? He has no idea what an acceptable answer would be.
"I think you're thinking about something Hermione brought up. Which is it? Your birthday or the job?"
He isn't. He pushed those thoughts from his mind when they left the Leaky Cauldron. Draco wants an answer, though. It's not acceptable to tell Draco 'No, you're wrong, actually.' Neither option is pretty, but Harry already has the weight of his birthday coming up this weekend, he can't live through that twice, so he decides: "You're right," always a solid start, "I'm thinking about the letter from Minerva."
Draco looks shocked and hurt. He's a good actor. "Why do you always want to hurt me?" Draco asks, rhetorically. He reaches for the whiskey again but he's already finished it. Draco pushes Harry off of his lap and onto the floor, he lands with his elbow against his broken rib, making him cry out. "Go get me another glass," Draco tosses the fragile crystal glass at Harry's lap, he's grateful it doesn't explode on him. "And try not to pick up any men this time." Ah, Harry should have known Seamus would be brought up.
Harry climbs to his feet and nods. "I'll be right back." He tries to reach for Draco's face, but his hand is slapped away. Harry slinks back to the study.
He pours another glass and when he corks the whiskey and sets it back on the bar he catches sight of himself in an ornate mirror in between two bookshelves. Harry hadn't noticed Draco drop the glamor on his face.
His cheek is yellow, and under his eye is still a light purple, but the broken blood vessel hasn't completely cleared up so his sclera is bloodshot. Thankfully that's the extent of the damage. Well, that he can see with his clothes on.
Harry's on the defense when he arrives back in the living room. He gently sets the whiskey on the end table again, but then instead of sitting next to Draco, he sinks to the floor in front of him, leaning against Draco's legs, his head on Draco's thigh. Usually, Draco likes this.
There's a long sigh from the blonde on the couch. "Harry, love, I see what you're trying to do," Draco remarks, resting a hand on Harry's head.
How do I respond to that? When Draco gets like this he feels like he's the lead performer in a play, but nobody bothered to tell him any of his lines.
"I'm tired, Drac, maybe we could just go to bed?" He winces, realizing that he misspoke instantly.
"Just? What exactly do you think it is that's going on here, Harry?"
Tears prick the side of Harry's vision. He sits back on his knees and looks up at Draco. Sometimes Harry can make Draco pity him. "You're mad at me," he says, pathetically. A tear slips out of his eye, rolling down his face.
Draco leans back dramatically into the couch. He takes a sip from his whiskey, slower this time. "Don't tell me what emotions I'm feeling," he bites at Harry. "I wasn't mad."
More tears fall. And sometimes, nothing works, and all I do is fuck up worse.
Draco drinks more, Harry just looks up at him. He doesn't say anything and more tears slip out, but he tries not to make any noises, not wanting to annoy Draco on top of everything else.
Finally, Draco stands. He stumbles, obviously drunk.
Harry is pushed back by Draco standing suddenly.
Draco looks down at him, Harry doesn't move from his position on his knees. Draco takes a step back from Harry and Harry instinctively crosses his arms over his stomach. That makes Draco's eyes flash dark.
The toe of Draco's black dress shoe connects with Harry's stomach, pinching the skin on his arms, trying to protect himself was futile. Harry is knocked backward, but catches himself on his palms, not falling all the way over.
Draco kicks him again and Harry doesn't try to catch himself, just lets himself fall over backward, his head connecting with the hardwood floor.
The room is spinning, his head hurts, and he can't see.
More tears, Harry is crying in earnest now, he can't stop the whimpers that escape from his throat.
Draco doesn't finish the second glass of whiskey. He tosses the glass on the floor, right next to Harry's head. The crystal shatters. Harry is thankful he squeezes his eyes shut as he feels the rest of the liquor slosh over his face.
"Clean this up." Draco sighs. Harry hears the crunch of the glass as Draco walks away.
He wallows for a few minutes, before doing as he is told.
