Warnings: Torture and rape.
The story has been a bit re-arranged. Harry, Hermione, Ron and Dumbledore start their search for the horcruxes before sixth year. The end of the war happens during 6th year, when Dumbeldore dies; and Harry goes to the forest to meet Voldemort.
I hope you enjoy it.
It was over.
The war was over, and Harry Potter had lost.
The young man had gone into the forest, and then had never come out. Voldemort neglected to tell anyone what had happened to him, except for telling everyone that he had been defeated, to which most of the Wizarding World had assumed that he was dead.
Only, he wasn't. Voldemort allowed most to believe that, but he told his most trusted followers that Potter was still alive, and very much wishing he wasn't, because he was now Voldemort's personal little pet, and the Dark Lord was doing everything his twisted mind could concoct to break the little ex-hero.
And so the terrible rampage had begun. Voldemort had taken over the Ministry, and had dictated that anyone who hadn't been on his side during the war was no longer considered a human being with rights. In fact, everyone who belonged to the Light was to be captured and sold as a slave to the Death Eaters and other followers of Voldemort's to do as they pleased.
It took nearly six months to gather most of them, although some had thankfully managed to get off the grid. Then, Voldemort himself had summoned a big meeting, to auction the captured slaves, in what used to be Hogwart's mighty Great Hall. Only it was nothing compared to what it once was, the shattered remains of war littered all around. The tables and chairs had been pushed to the sides for the enormous crowd of dark wizards to sit and watch.
Draco Malfoy sat in the front row, next to Severus Snape. Both of Draco's parents were assumed to be dead, which meant the boy was the head of the household, but since he was still 16, still underage, he was living with his godfather at the Malfoy Manor. Draco and Snape did an outstanding job at pretending to be Voldemort's most loyal followers, so the Dark Lord greatly favored them even if sometimes he doubted their intentions.
Truth was, Draco had always been a bit on the grey area. He worshipped his father, which meant that he had wanted to follow in his footsteps since he was a small kid, but his godfather had gotten into his brain, too. Especially over the last half-a-year.
What had finally pushed him away from the Dark Lord was the death of his father; or, more specifically, Voldemort's total disregard for it. And, of course, he couldn't really stomach how Death Eaters treated the wizards they found.
So at that very meeting, staring at the scared, injured and hopeless faces of a bunch of wizards that had once put all their hopes and dreams on a teenager, Draco knew he had to devise a plan. They needed to overthrow Voldemort, free all the slaves and bring the Wizarding World back to the light, before the Dark Lord destroyed it. He glanced at Snape, who was also looking at the slaves, his face impassive, and he tried to mimic him, but it was proving to be increasingly difficult as he found himself recognizing with a twisting gut most of the faces in the crowd.
Two faces stood out the most: Ron Weasly and Hermione Granger.
He growled angrily. How the hell had they gotten caught?! It would only make things more difficult. He knew how a lot of the Death Eaters wanted at them, especially Granger, and he knew how they would be broken in a few days under any of Voldemort's followers.
He sighed angrily.
"I want the weasel and the Granger girl." Draco whispered to Snape. The man turned to him.
"What for? I didn't think you'd actually want to take part on this... abomination." he muttered. He looked a little pale, and Draco knew that it was because most of the scared, beaten down crowd used to be his students.
"I don't." he said. "But at least buying them will spare them from torture under anybody else. You know those two would be the ones to suffer the most."
"Draco..." Snape sighed.
"And it would look extremely suspicious if we didn't buy anyone." Draco added. "The Dark Lord wants to see us being cruel or whatever. Besides, you said yourself that we eventually need to..." he looked around slightly and leaned closer to Snape, his eyes locked on the slaves as McNair and Pettigrew lined them up and hexed them to the amusement of others. "...rescue Potter form his clutches; so maybe if we have more man power that we can actually trust, it will make things easier."
Snape sighed again and nodded slightly.
The auction began and Draco found himself fighting to keep bile down as his own classmates from other houses were bought, like toys, by men and women whom he had seen perform the most horrible of tortures in the past. He swallowed as some of them looked at him pleadingly. He looked away as Crabbe and Goyle and Zabini and the rest of his house mates laughed and bought Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws that had literally sat next to them in class previously. How could they be so impassive to it? His grey eyes turned to the Dark Lord, sitting on his throne, smiling widely as the place flooded with screams, and laughter, and pleading and crying. He swallowed.
Finally, Granger was pushed forward, and Weasly who was clutching her hand for dear life was dragged forward with her.
The crowd went wild, throwing insults and perversions at them, laughing and cheering and spitting. A hex was thrown at Granger but she managed to dodge it with a glare. They both looked haggard, their clothes dirty and torn, their faces muddy and bloodied and hair disheveled. Weasly was favoring his left side.
"Hermione Granger," Pettigrew announced, his shrill voice cutting through the loud screams, "and I guess, as a package deal, Ron Weasly as well!"
"Fifty for the girl!" a Death Eater called first.
Draco took a deep breath.
"Sixty for both!" he announced, trying to ignore how their eyes caught him, first filling with recognition and then with betrayal and anger. He also tried to ignore how the Dark Lord's red eyes turned to him in amusement.
"Eighty for both!" someone else shouted.
"Ninety for the girl!" Bellatrix called.
"A hundred for the boy!"
"Two hundred," a thunderous voice bellowed, belonging to none other than Fenrir Greyback, his yellow and sharp teeth glistening, "for both."
Everyone gasped and then moaned in disappointment. Two hundred was a lot, but Draco had his family fortune for a reason.
"Four hundred," he said, glaring at the werewolf as he recalled how he especially liked to torture people, "for both."
That was that. Greyback rolled his eyes and sat back down, glaring back at the young heir. Voldemort laughed in his throne. It was no secret that Draco and the golden trio hated each other, and it was often assumed that the silver-haired boy had inherited his father's knack for torture and his excellent use of the Cruiciatus curse, so after the initial disappointment, most of the Death Eaters laughed and cheered again. The pair of wizards was hauled away to wait for their new master outside the room, and the auction continued.
It took close to four hours before all the slaves were sold and the meeting was over. The slaves were brought back into the room, most of them shaking and in tears, and the Death Eaters laughed and cheered as they descended from their seats and grabbed their new acquisitions, apparating away and to their homes to have some fun. Draco walked nervously up to Granger and Weasly, Snape at his back. They glared at him, their hands and feet shackled, but said nothing as he grabbed Hermione and Snape grabbed Ron, and they apparated away, to Malfoy Manor.
Upon their arrival, he noticed with distaste that both were pale, and Weasly dry heaved a few times. But their cheeks were sunken and their cheekbones protruded. They looked like they hadn't eaten in days.
"Please try to keep it down, weasel. That carpet is extremely expensive." he drawled. Snape didn't say anything, instead turning away and walking to the Potion's Room he had built in the basement of the enormous mansion, his cape billowing.
Draco stared at him, knowing that he needed some time alone after what they had seen.
"Malfoy," Granger seethed, glaring at him as she placed her hands on Weasly, trying to soothe him, "what the hell do you want from us?"
Draco glared at her.
"You should be thanking me." he said. "I could've let Greyback buy you, saved my self some money, and right about now he'd be probably raping you senseless while your boyfriend watched."
"You watch that fucking mouth, asshole." Ron growled, stepping forward.
Draco raised an eyebrow.
"Or what? Neither of you have wands, and you both have seen better days." he said, mockingly. "You both belong to me now. I bought you."
He regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth. He didn't know why simply staring at them made him want to insult them. It was just a reflex... but if he wanted them to start trusting him, he had to be nicer. None of them answered as fear and hopelessness settled on their features. Draco sighed and grabbed his wand from his back pocket, but it proved to be a terrible decision as they both flinched back, Weasley embracing Granger as if protecting her.
Draco simply muttered an 'alohomora', and their chains fell to the ground.
"Look," he said, "I bought you because any other Death Eater would literally be trying to break you both to pieces and I..." he didn't know what to say. Why had he rescued them anyway? Yeah, sure, the plan and whatever but... Honestly, there wasn't much they could do without their wands and with their new status as slaves. He didn't know the answer. He put his wand away and shrugged. He knew that they still thought Potter was dead, but that didn't seem to be the best moment to tell them that he was alive but probably in a horribly ruined state, physically and mentally. He looked at them up and down and took in their state once more. "Just follow me, knuckleheads." he growled.
They did, more out of fear than anything, and Draco felt a pinch in his stomach at that. If the bravest pair of the bravest house were scared... well, there wasn't much hope left there.
They went up a flight of stairs, and he tried to ignore Weasly's grunts. He probably had a broken leg or something that he hadn't noticed yet. They walked down a long corridor and Draco stopped at the first door, opening it to reveal one of the many deserted rooms at his manor. It was a guest room, so it was fairly clean and well equipped: a double bed, an armoire, a window that gave a beautiful sight of the enormous lawn, and an attached bathroom. He swallowed as he looked around, wondering for the first time in the night if he had made a huge mistake. What would Voldemort say about him treating his slaves like guests?
He turned to them.
"This will be your room. There are clothes in the armoire. They are Slytherin robes but I trust you'll both agree they are much better than the rags you're wearing." he said. "Take a bath, fix yourselves, and come downstairs. The dinning hall is at the left of the stairs, through the mahogany doors. You do know what mahogany is, don't you weasel?" he said, his mouth arching in a snickering smile. When Weasly remained quiet, Draco felt his heart drop. What had happened to their spirit? "You'll ear dinner and I trust Snape will fix your injuries with some potions. Don't take long."
He exited, walking past them, but her voice stopped him.
"Why are you doing this for us?" she asked softly, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on edge. He didn't turn around, still unsure of the answer.
He stood there for a moment, pondering, before walking away, leaving the question unanswered.
An hour and a half later, the pair of wizards walked into the dining hall. Snape was there, sitting next to Draco, as a house elf served them their food. They looked much better, their hair and faces clean. The black and green robes, though, contrasted sharply with them, and Draco found himself snickering at the look. They both glared at him, before Hermione caught sight of the tiny house elf.
"Dobby!" she shouted, running for him. The house elf's ears perked up as he noticed the pair for the first time, his previously dull eyes glistening with emotion as Hermione knelt down and hugged him. "You're okay!"
Draco sneered in disgust. He would never dream of touching a house elf, let alone hugging him. Sure, he didn't mistreat Dobby and the others like his father had done, but he didn't treat them like people. They were elves.
"For Merlin's sake, Granger, you literally just bathed." he said, disgust evident in his voice.
"Why is he here?" Ron demanded. He couldn't run to Dobby due to the state of his leg, which Draco could see now was terribly inflamed, stretching the leg of the grey pants he was wearing.
"The Dark Lord demanded that every free elf had to be returned to their previous owners, with no chance of getting free again. We were Dobby's last owners." Malfoy explained.
"Will you both sit down?" Snape demanded irritatingly, slamming his hand down on the table. "We need to talk and you desperately need that leg cured, Weasly."
They both complied, and Draco knew that Snape was as surprised as him at their behavior. He had expected some fight, at least a glare.
Dobby didn't say anything either, placing plates of food in front of them, which they both attacked ravenously. Both Slytherins watched in disgust, but neither said a word as they understood that the Gryffindors were probably starving half to death. The thought reminded Draco of the matter at hand. He allowed the pair to finish their soup before dropping the bomb, his heart pounding nervously.
"Potter is alive."
Both looked at him, stunned. Their eyes wide, their mouths agape.
"W-what?" Hermione whispered. Draco could see every single emotion run through her face. Joy, relief, confusion, dispair, fear.
"He's alive." Snape repeated. "But he is with the Dark Lord."
"Has been for the past six months." Draco added.
"Is this some sort of joke, Malfoy?" Ron demanded, glaring at him.
"Yes, Weasly, it's a joke. Please laugh now. It's incredibly humorous." Draco spat.
"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Professor..."
It was odd, Draco thought, to still see Snape as a Professor. After everything that had happened.
"The Dark Lord didn't kill him, he enslaved him." Snape said, his voice stone cold. "None of us have seen him."
"The Dark Lord has told us things about how he... is breaking him." Draco said, his lips twisting into a shadow of a grimace. The pair of Gryffindors looked at each other in despair.
"Why are you telling us this?" Weasel asked, his voice shaking and his eyes watering at the thought.
Draco exchanged a glance with his godfather and stared down at his cooling soup. He wasn't really hungry... hadn't been for the past few days in fact.
"Draco and I aren't Death Eaters." Snape answered for him. "As you may have guessed previously, if your brains weren't already dulled down by spending time in that stupid House of yours, I have always been a double spy. I worked for Dumbledore. I never truly served the Dark Lord."
"Bullshit!" Weasly shouted, his lion heart finally shinning through as he got up. He winced at the state of his leg and a choked groan slipped from his throat, but he kept his ground, his fists tight and his face red and angry. "You killed Dumbledore! The both of you!"
"I killed Dumbledore because he asked me to, you insolent rodent." Snape said, his voice full of poison. "It was the only way I could prove myself to the Dark Lord once and for all. It was his personal sacrifice and I had to carry it on. You hear me?"
Weasly and Granger looked at each other in shock, before the boy glared at Snape even harder, unconvinced.
"Listen, you two." Draco said. "I rescued you because we want to rescue your precious perfect Potter, alright? Now, will you help us or not?"
"Why would we trust you?" Weasly said, growling.
"You have no other choice." Draco answered. "Or, you know what? You do. I won't restrain your bloody mutts inside my house, so leave if you so please. It won't take even a day before someone else finds you and skins you alive."
"If you want to save Potter, we are your only chance." Snape said.
Granger, who had been staring at her hands, quietly, finally spoke up.
"What is your plan?"
Draco and Snape didn't actually have a plan.
They knew that the golden trio and Dumbledore had been looking for the horrcruxes for a year, and that they needed to end the search to defeat Voldemort once and for all, but it was very difficult without Potter and with Voldemort becoming all-powerful. They also knew that the Dark Lord kept Potter in the Riddle Manor, most likely locked in the dungeons, but it would be near impossible to get to him, alone, and to get him out without Voldemort noticing.
"This is bloody hopeless." Ron said once, a few days after they had started living with Malfoy, to Hermione as they were in their room.
"We can't lose hope, Ron." she said softly. "Harry -"
"Harry's as good as dead, Hermione." Ron growled, plopping down on the bed. "He's been getting tortured by the Dark Lord for six months now, and we can't leave this damn stupid manor or do anything because they won't even give us our wands!"
Hermione heard Ron's voice crack and she sat next to him, rubbing his back as tears slipped down his long nose.
"Ron, we are as good as it gets. At least we're here with Malfoy -"
"How can we even trust him?" Ron said. "He bloody hates us and so does Snape! You know it. Do you really think they want to free Harry?" he said rudely.
"We do." Malfoy said from the door, making them jump. They turned to look at him. "If I hated you, Weasley, do you think I would've given you a bloody guest bedroom with a bed and a restroom, and given you clothes and food? We do have a dungeon here, where it would be much less expensive to keep you."
"We're just a bit stressed out." Hermione said. "We're worried about Harry."
"Well, I have news for you." Draco said. He sounded tired, and quite frankly, a bit scared. "The Dark Lord has summoned me to his manor. And I think... I think it's because he wants me to see Potter."
"What?" they both said, fully turning around on the bed to stare at him with wide eyes, full of hope and dread.
Draco sighed.
"The Dark Lord has never been one hundred percent sure of where my loyalties lie. He knows I purchased the both of you, but I think he's not quite convinced that I did it to torment you. And I think he wants me to... see him... torturing Potter, in order to see how I'll react. So that he can see if I really, honestly, do hate him." he explained, his gut twisting as the pair's eyes filled with despair.
"Why would he even need proof of that?" Weasly said, glaring at him. "Everyone knows that you did."
Malfoy rolled his eyes and crossed his arms as he leaned on the doorframe.
"Oblivious as always, Weasley." he said. "Besides, even if I did hate Potter, that doesn't necessarily prove that I'm on the Dark Lord's side. But if I were happy... or at least, unperturbed... upon watching him get tortured..."
"So that's the plan?!" Ron shouted, indignant, as he got up from the bed, his recently healed leg making him stumble. "You watch him torture Harry and then go on your merry way?!"
"Well, yes, Weasley. That's the bloody plan for now. I can't rescue him with the Dark Lord watching me; I can't try to save him or ease his pain or whatever. Me getting killed or tortured along with Potter will not help the matter." Draco said, getting annoyed. "Besides, I assume he will let me see where he keeps him. I can look around, try to find some escape route or devise a plan; I can also check on him, see how he is doing and report back to you. It's not perfect but is bloody fucking better than sitting around here all day."
Ron finally gave an exasperated sigh and sat back down.
"Are you sure that's the reason why he's calling you?" Hermione spoke, softly. She had been really passive lately.
"Most likely, yes." he said. "I'll be gone tonight, at 8 p.m."
None of them said anything else and Draco turned to leave. However, as he was rounding the corner of the hall to go to his room, Granger caught up with him.
"Draco, wait!" she called. He stopped and turned to look at her. She nervously bit her lip before talking, quietly and with worry marking her face. "I know there were some... rumors about you and Harry, before all of this happened." Draco arched an eyebrow. "About how you... well, how you were both sort of into each other." she blushed slightly at that. "I know Harry had a crush on Cedric during fourth year, before he ended up getting a crush on Cho, which means that, well, at least on his side it's entirely possible. Right?"
"Granger, you're making no sense." he said, but he didn't turn around to leave.
"I just mean... I don't... It's none of my business if the rumors were true or not. About you and Harry. I don't care. I just think... Maybe You-Know-Who heard the rumors, too. Maybe that's why he wants you there... I mean, I know that he wants to test your allegiance, but..." she was stuttering nervously, and it was very uncharacteristic of the girl he remembered back at school. The one who had punched him in the face when they were thirteen-years-old.
"Granger, I don't hate Potter." he said. "And the rumors were true, for the most part. We did like each other, secretly. I'm not ashamed of it." Funny, considering how it was his deepest darkest secret when he was still in school. But now that everything had been lost, it didn't matter that much. "But that was a long time ago. Right now, my main concern is getting Potter back, so that we can have a slim chance of defeating the Dark Lord. Whatever else happened before is meaningless to me."
"But..."
"Look, we kissed, once. It wasn't a great love story; it was just a teenage stupid crush. That was it. If the Dark Lord wants me to smile and laugh while he tears Potter apart, I will do so, because that's what will keep us alive. Alright? There will be no further mercy from me, other than the hope that one of these days I'll break him free of that hellhole and reunite your bloody golden trio so that we can take that bastard down once and for all. And that's all I want to hear about it." he said. Then he turned on his heel and left, leaving a distraught Hermione staring at his back.
Draco apparated in front of the enormous Riddle Manor. His own mansion paled in comparison to his master's, obviously.
He sighed nervously. It was never a pleasant experience to be face to face with him. Anxiety twisted his gut.
But also, the possibility of seeing Potter really made him nervous.
He had lied through his teeth to the Granger girl. What he felt for Potter before the war was much more than a crush; although there had only been one kiss throughout it all, it had hurt him deeply to know that Potter had died, and then to learn that his fate had been a much more gruesome one. He didn't know if he was ready to see the aftermath.
Snape had warned him against showing any emotions. He obviously couldn't show pain, fear, despair or disgust at whatever he would soon encounter; but he couldn't seem to eager either because then the Dark Lord would probably encourage him to hurt the golden boy, too, and that would probably break him.
He walked through the door, and Pettigrew was there to greet him, his disgusting rat-like features smiling at him. He could hear screams close by, and he hoped that they weren't what he thought.
"Good to see you, Draco."
"Pettigrew." he said between his teeth. The man took his coat, the disgusting smile plastered on his face.
"The Lord awaits you... in his chambers."
"His chambers?" Draco repeated, somewhat alarmed. Why would the Lord want him in his bedroom? His stomach turned with anxiety, making him nauseous.
"Up the second flight of stairs, the door at the end of the hall. Can't miss it." the man said.
When Draco saw the door, trepidation grabbed a hold of him. It was golden, with a snake carved on it. His heart beat painfully against his ribs as he heard someone whimpering and sobbing. Oh, God. How he wished he was in the dungeons. Torture in a dungeon was expected, even familiar in a way... But he could barely imagine the sort of torture Potter went through if it was held in the Lord's bedroom. He swallowed and braced himself for the worst, trying with all his might to push the stupid memories of his time with Potter at school to the back of his mind. He fingered his wand, which rested under his sleeve, and gave a few steps forward.
The door opened on its own before he knocked.
And there he was.
The room was a mixture of smells. Some sort of wild scent, like a rainy forest, mixed with blood. His stomach twisted even more and he swallowed, his back and head instantly covering with cold sweat.
Voldemort was staring out the window, his arms behind his back.
The piteous sobbing had stopped, but Draco knew where it had come from. The bed in the center of the room was in disarray, and under the black silk covers poked a mop of black, unruly hair, and a bloodied hand, cuffed to the bedpost. The hand was shaking, the fingers twitching. He winced at how broken they looked, at how the manacle was cutting into the pale flesh. The bundle under the covers was shaking slightly. Draco didn't want to see what was below it.
"My sweet, sweet Draco." the Lord spoke, at last, and Draco could swear he saw the covers jumping slightly. "I am so glad you could make it."
"My Lord." Draco spoke. The Dark Lord turned to him, a smile plastered on his face.
"You must be quite confused as to why I summoned you to my chambers, of all places. A bit personal, isn't it?" the man said, going over to the other end of the room, to a table that held Firewhisky. He poured two glasses. "Care for something to drink?"
Draco didn't want anything in his mouth, as his stomach was melting inside of him and his throat was closing up with bile, but he couldn't quite refuse as the man walked up to him and shoved the glass in his hand. Draco looked down at it, suspicious. A chill went down his spine as he suspected that it had Veritaserum. He swallowed and brought it to his lips, the liquid burning them and his nostrils as he tried to smell traces of the potions. Snape had made him quite skilled at it, and he didn't sense anything other than the throat-burning alcohol. He swallowed a sip and coughed.
"Oh, I forget you're still underage." Voldemort laughed, sitting on his bed. The bundle next to him shuddered. "Draco, I have quite a few... tasks for you."
"Yes, my Lord?" Draco said. The man motioned for the boy to sit on a black sofa across from the bed, and the boy did, sitting at the edge, his whole body doused with anxiety.
"First of all, I wish to ask you how things are going with your two newly-acquired slaves." he said. "Weasly and Granger."
Draco saw the mop of hair jumping, and the satin sheets slowly slipped down two reveal to horribly, painfully swollen eyes. Below, he could see the emerald pupils staring at him. He swallowed and looked away, as if he hadn't even noticed.
"They were a struggle at first my Lord, what with the Gryffindor stubborness in them," he said swiftly, relief growing all over him as he realized that he could easily lie, "but they are obedient now. It only took a few sessions with the curse."
Voldemort smiled and stole a sideways glance at the lump, who trembled more fiercely. His green eyes ignited with rage and watered, but he didn't do anything. Draco was horribly, dreadfully surprised. He swallowed another swig of Firewhisky. It did seem to calm his nerves.
"Good, good." the Lord said. "But I am afraid, a few are still missing. Some Gryffindors that I'd very much like to see surrendering to me. And I know no better man for the job than you, young Malfoy."
Draco looked up in surprise.
"Me, my Lord?"
"You are turning into your father, but much less pathetic." the man said, laughing, drinking. Draco used every bit of his will power to shove his anger down. He smiled slightly, hoping it could cover every trace of rage and revenge in his face. "I'm sure you will enjoy such a task. Hunting down Gryffindors and bringing them to me."
"Very much so, my Lord." he said. Oh, bloody hell. That would only make things a thousand times harder.
"Good, good. You will of course have a crew of men by your side to aid with the process." he added. "But first... you understand, dear Draco, that I have some doubts. I hope you don't take it the wrong way."
"Never, my Lord." he said quietly, his stomach opening up and cold sweat once again attacking every inch of his body. This was it.
Voldemort waved his hand as he took another swig of his drinking, finishing it all in one gulp, and the manacle around the bloody and beaten hand disappeared. He turned to the boy, his slave, and buried his hand in his hair before painfully dragging him up. Harry cried out as his body was forced to emerge from under the satin sheets. Malfoy almost passed out right there, the glass dangerously slipping from his sweaty hand. He put in on the wide, flat arm of the sofa and swallowed, feeling his face paling, his whole body shaking, as he took in the devastated body of the boy before him.
His face was a mess. Bruises marred both of his cheeks and eyes, his nose bleeding profusely, as much as his temples and mouth. There were tear tracks cutting through the blood, and Malfoy swallowed at that. He had never, in 6 years, seen Potter cry. But his torso... Merlin. The blankets covered him from under his navel, but what was exposed was a show of torture and agony. He could see bruises of all sizes and colors, one atop the other, speaking of ongoing beatings and tortures. Cuts, and gashes crisscrossing each other, forming giant gouges on his pale skin, that were bleeding and scabbing over and some were festering and looked infected. There were also bite marks, and hickeys on his neck and chest, and one bite mark on his lower lip, which was swollen and bleeding. Worse of all, Malfoy could count each of his ribs; he could tell some were broken... The boy has horribly thin. He had been starved, probably also deprived of water.
He wasn't breathing well, his mouth sucking air in desperate gasps, as if his lungs were about to collapse on him. Green eyes locked on grey ones, and then looked away, humiliation written all over his face.
Draco swallowed and, with every single bit of strength and willpower, smiled, let out a laugh.
"Harry Potter?" he said, mockingly. His voice trembled minutely and he prayed to every fucking goddamn deity that would listen that the Dark Lord wouldn't notice. "Finally got what you deserved, you little bastard."
The Dark Lord smiled, studying his face, as he moved his hand to Harry's face, caressing him. The boy closed his eyes shut, shuddering.
"You really do hate him, don't you Draco?"
"Of course I do, my Lord." Draco said.
"Good." Voldemort answered, before getting up and pulling the covers from over Harry. Another strong wave of nausea attacked Draco and his whole body tensed.
The beedsheet underneath Harry was drenched through with blood. His thin, shaky legs were covered in blood as well, and even though Draco knew exactly what had been going on, even if the fucking manacle attached to the boy's wrist and the fact that he was sharing a goddamn bed with the Dark Lord were telltale signs that spoke volumes, he still found himself almost passing out in dismay at the sight of that blood, running down his legs from his bottom. He had been raped, brutally from the looks of it. He was completely, utterly naked, and the horrible bruises and open wounds and bloody bite marks were there too. On his legs... on his privates... on his arms.
Draco swallowed. Oh, bloody hell.
Hissing sounds flooded the room and Draco realized the Dark Lord was speaking in Parsel Tongue.
Harry shuddered, his eyes screwed shut, and the blonde boy could tell that he hated it. He, however, answered in the same manner, and Voldemort laughed.
"He's saying he can't get up because he can't move his legs." he explained, sadistic pleasure shinning in his eyes. He took his wand out and Harry jumped, his swollen eyes suddenly widening, watering.
"No, please..." he said. His voice was hoarse and cracking. "Please, Master, please." He said. He spoke in Parsel again, most likely begging, as he scrambled on the bed, his limbs slipping on the silk and his legs strangely unresponsive. He finally flung himself over the side of the bed and landed on all fours, crying out. Draco's heart was hurting at the display.
Harry grabbed the bedpost and with a whimpering cry, pulled himself to his feet, swaying. Blood dripped down, landed on the floor, resounded on Draco's ears. The bright red would remained etched in his mind forever. He knew. He swallowed and looked up at Voldemort, grateful that the man's attention wasn't on him because for a moment, his mask had slipped and he could feel his face twisted in fear and confusion. He had never felt so fucking nauseous and he wished the Dark Lord would just let him go! He didn't want to see this. Voldemort laughed and Harry flinched, whimpering pathetically.
The Dark Lord's wand was still pointed at him, and Draco realized for the first time that Harry didn't have his glasses on, so all he saw was a blurry image of his worst nightmare, and that was enough to send him over the edge as he shook violently and hyperventilated.
"You see, Draco," the Dark Lord said, red eyes fixed on the destroyed figure before him. "I performed Legillimens on my little slave. And he told me everything."
Draco flinched, his eyes locking on Harry, who looked at him for a moment and then looked down.
"My Lord..." he started, trying to keep his voice calm.
"You can't blame him, though." The man said, smiling maliciously. "He tried his best. But there's not much resistance after his mind has been broken over and over again. At first it was a hard task; but after I raped him while under the curse, well... his mind loosened. He was in so much pain he couldn't even think, or at least that was at the forefront of his mind when I entered."
Draco felt anger rising in his chest. That sick, fucking bastard! Harry shuddered at the memory, his beaten face reddening in shame. The Dark Lord walked closer to him, sidestepping the bed that separated them, as Harry stepped back, his legs shaking madly.
"You... bastard." he growled. He caught his mistake as soon as the words left his mouth and Voldemort turned his red eyes toward him. His mind acted quickly as he got up and laughed maliciously, trying his hardest to stop his body from shaking. "My Lord, what you saw..."
"I saw the two of you kissing." the man said.
"Yes." Draco said, his smile still on his face. "You more than anyone, I hope, would understand the situation, my Lord. I hate Potter with every fiber of my being, but well, he is a handsome boy, and once I saw that he might have some interest in me, I tried to woo him. It was just physical, as your relationship with him is. I never felt anything but hatred for him, but as you can tell for yourself, he is a good kisser and has an ass that makes you want to bugger him senseless."
Oh, Merlin. Good job, Draco, you just awakened the Dark Lord's sadistic side.
His eyes travelled from the Dark Lord to Potter, and he noticed with a painful pang in his heart that Harry was looking at him as if he believed every single word. His eyes watered and he looked away.
Voldemort laughed cruelly and turned again to Harry, tugging him forward. The boy seemed to have nothing left in him, as the simple action caused him to collapse on his hands and knees.
"I told you, Potter. No one could ever love you. You are a disgrace. And you lost." He pointed his wand down, and Draco had only a second to brace himself for the image before the Dark Lord muttered, "Crucio."
Harry's body twisted around, writhing as he, surprisingly, kept himself from screaming for a good 30 seconds before it became to much and he broke. Draco looked at him with pity, having been the receiver of the curse once before, upon his failure at killing Dumbledore. But he had received it from his aunt Bellatrix, who was much less powerful than Voldemort. He could only imagine... A Cruciatus spell cast by Voldemort would be a thousand times stronger. And with how the wand was trembling, Draco could tell that he was putting a lot of anger and hatred into it, strengthening it. Harry writhed on the floor, his wounds bleeding anew and much more deeply, shrieks of agony escaping him as tears ran down his face.
He felt the urge to stop the madman. It was going on for far too long. Harry lost his voice and could do nothing but arch his back and sob.
He looked up at Voldemort, desperate, but the man was smiling with cruel pleasure.
When Harry's eyelids dropped and his eyes rolled back, Voldemort lifted the curse. A second before the boy passed out. He wouldn't even grant him that.
Harry's eyes rolled back to the front, looking wildly at his surroundings, as if he had lost himself for a second there, which Draco knew he had.
Then, Voldemort pulled him up, making him cry out and dry heave, but apparently there was literally nothing in his system.
"How was that, little pet?" The Dark Lord whispered in his ear, making Potter shudder and let out a sob. The man snaked a hand around his throat and held him close. Draco could tell that if it wasn't for Voldemort's support, Harry wouldn't be able to stand on his own. "Look into Draco's eyes and tell him how much you enjoyed it."
Draco tried to smile maliciously, hoping the fear and pity and horrible sadness weren't showing in his face. He didn't dare to speak, knowing his voice would break.
Harry's green, watering eyes locked on him, pleadingly. Then they closed shut, whimpers escaping his throat as Voldemort's finger found a horrible wound on his side and he sank his nails in it. Harry gasped, shaking.
"Tell him." he whispered.
Harry sobbed and then cried out hoarsely as the fingers ripped at the wound.
"I-I..." his eyes opened, confused. He didn't even remember what he was supposed to say. "Please..." was all he could manage.
Draco's heart shattered even more, if possible. The Golden Boy, the Boy-who-lived, the face of Gryffindor; the bravest, strongest boy Draco had ever met, had been reduced to this... The boy he had loved in the past. He swallowed again, his smile faltering.
The Dark Lord laughed and his hand snaked down, caressing Harry's thigh, and then moving to touch his ass. Harry sobbed, his eyes closing again.
"I think he might be too scared to talk, my Lord." Draco said, smiling, trying to muster the trademark cruel Malfoy smirk. He apparently did a good job, because Voldemort laughed and threw Harry back on the bed, where he curled into a ball and wept.
"Very good, Draco." the Dark Lord said. "Now, please get started on your task. You may go."
Draco nodded, his body extremely tense, as he turned to leave. However, the snake-like voice stopped him again.
"Oh, and do bring your slaves next time, will you? I want them to see how Harry's been doing, living here with me. And I do want to see how much you've managed to break them."
Draco was about to answer, but was interrupted.
Harry coughed some blood before getting up on his elbows.
"No!" he said, his voice hoarse, his body shaking. "Leave them alone." Voldemort's face twisted with rage, and Draco's heart dropped like a stone. Harry's anger and bravery melted from his face in a second and the man turned to him, growling. He stomped to him and grabbed his upper arms. Harry's green eyes widened in fear. "No, no. I'm sorry. Please... Please, I'm sorry."
But Voldemort' wouldn't hear it. He dragged the barely struggling boy across the room. Draco stared in horror as he opened a small chest, and forced the boy inside of it. Harry was screaming, pleading and sobbing as the man pushed him inside, not needing much strength since the poor boy was so weak and hurt. He pushed his legs back, so that his knees were against his chest because otherwise he wouldn't fit, and closed the lid. A lock closed itself, and Harry's screams and pleading could be heard. Some soft pounding, too, but the boy was too weak to try anything.
Voldemort straightened up and smiled, then turned to Draco.
"I'm sorry you had to see that. He'll be locked in there for the entire night, and then tomorrow when I take him out, he'll be a very obedient pet."
Draco smiled and nodded.
"Good night, my Lord." he managed to say, before he practically ran from the room. He ripped his coat from Pettigrew's waiting hands, ran out of the manor, and apparated away.
As soon as he apparated back in his own foyer, he landed on his knees and threw up, strongly.
He looked up in time to see the pair of Gryffindors and his godfather running to him.
Oh, how in the bloody hell was he supposed to explain everything he had seen to them?