Title: Hell is for Children
Author: Lux (quietlygorgeous@hotmail.com)
Feedback: I will love you whether you give it or not
Pairing: HP/LM, vague HP/DM
Rating: light NC-17
Summary: see challenge
Challenge: #two: (rushlight75) An abused Harry runs away from the Dursleys' home during the summer. On the streets of Hogsmeade, he runs into either Snape or Lucius, who offers him alternative living arrangements... for a price.
Warnings: non-con, underage, bit of violence, blood play, angst, varying degrees of Harry
Archive: snowroses.net after HPCFC ends
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I am poor. Oh so very poor. Contains naughty under-age slash. Read at your own risk. Contains no STDs
Author's Note: Takes place during the summer before Harry's 2nd year. Creative liberties have been taken (and abused) with both canon and the challenge.
Thanks: KC for being an absolute doll and reading this monstrosity more times than I have. And Belle, Manny, and Tine for telling me it indeed didn't suck but McGonagall was a little weird.
Hell is for Children
He is a small boy with deep black fringe and startling green eyes behind a pair of too-big glasses. Everything about him is small so he swims in a pair of jeans and a sweater that can hardly be called a rag the way it hangs off his slight shoulders. From far away, he can easily be mistaken for a lump of dirty laundry.
Somehow he has managed to get his entire body onto one of Madam Rosmerta's little stools; pushed over into the corner and completely out of the public's eye. Here he sits with a cup of hot cocoa in the middle of summer, the heat from the mug steaming up his glasses and tickling his nose when he inhales. The creamy texture of the drink calms his nerves and helps take away some of the pain he feels.
But he is confused. He can't remember how he got to Hogsmeade. The last two days have been a complete blur. All he remembers is trying desperately to get...somewhere. Away from something that was obviously unpleasant given the current state of his body.
What troubles him the most? He doesn't remember what drove him away from his home. He's pulled and prodded every crevice in his mind but nothing brings realization, nothing explains this horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. So he tries to forget what he cannot remember and sips almost daintily from his mug and swings his legs back and forth beneath the tiny table.
From his corner, he watches the rest of the patrons. There's a group of men across the room who're getting very close to drunk. He can hear them laughing about something and he wishes for a moment that he could be there with them; laughing at grown-up jokes and drinking grown-up drinks with grown-up people.
It feels familiar, the smell of ale and the sound of laughter. He knows it from somewhere but he can't quite pin it down. It's like a bug that refuses to stay still. It falls between the cracks and wiggles out of his grasp. It hurts not to remember but he knows this place. He's been here before and not too long ago. He furrows his brow and stares into his mug, the last dollop of whip cream fading into a white puddle atop his chocolate. He fishes it out with his finger and sucks it into his mouth slowly, savoring the taste of artificial sugar and whipped air. His spine tingles and the door to the shop slams shut.
Harry's so startled he nearly tips over his mug when he sees who's walked in. He shrinks back on his stool but he isn't sure why. He knows who that is, they won't hurt him but why--
Short cropped blonde hair, elegant pointed nose and robes that fit him like a glove. A smile that makes Harry giggle and a hand that's so warm when it takes his hand. "I'll take you home with me."
He grins and lets the pretty stranger lead him away. Its the chocolate that's made him so docile, so easy to follow instructions. The things his teachers always said, "Never leave with a stranger" are lost on him as he tries to keep up with the strangers long strides.
The stranger smiles and hoists him up onto his shoulders. Harry beams and holds on. He's never been up on anyone's shoulders before! Strong hands on his knees to keep him from falling but he's getting sleepy. It doesn't occur to him that maybe someone put something in his cocoa. Didn't the barmaid say it was a gift....?
--the crash of his cup hitting the floor jerks him from his thoughts and all eyes are on him. He turns a deep shade of red and stammers an apology to Madam Rosmerta when she comes over to clean up.
She smiles sweetly. "It's alright, Harry, love." She fixes the mug with a wave of her wand and goes to fetch him another cup.
"Well, well, well. Mr. Potter, causing trouble, I see."
That voice. It's a safe voice if not a nasty one. He looks up and the voice matches the face. "Professor." He nods and thanks Rosmerta when she brings him a new mug.
Professor Snape glares down at him. "What are you doing here?"
"Having a cuppa," he says and swirls the whip cream with his finger. He licks it from his finger, same as before.
"That's revolting," Snape grimaces.
Harry shrugs. "You've obviously never tried it, then."
"Where are your relatives?" He demands and looks around for them but doesn't know what he's really looking for.
"Not here," Harry says and sips his cocoa. Its warm and smooth; he hiccups a little and burps.
"So how did you get here?"
"Don't know." He pulls out the cinnamon stick and sucks the chocolate off of it. Cinnamon sticks tasted so much better covered in chocolate, he decides readily and bites off a chunk. It melts in his mouth and he can feel it all the way down to his toes. He smiles up at Snape. "Have you ever tried these? They're wonderful!" He nibbles off another bit and closes his eyes to savor it.
Snape snatches the cinnamon stick away from him. "Don't give me that! We've been searching for you for a month! Where have you been?!" Snape demands.
"Where have you been?" he growls and smacks Harry across the face.
Harry swallows the cinnamon with a dry throat and looks away from Snape. "Sorry," he whispers. "I-I'm not really sure," he admits.
Snape blinks slowly, the cinnamon stick turning to powder in his fist. "Elaborate."
He stares into his cocoa. "I don't remember how I got here."
Obliviate, Snape decides, or a variation since he's obviously not crazy. Damn you, Potter! What's happened to you now? "Let's go."
Harry freezes. "Where are we going?"
"Back to Hogwarts and then back to your relatives," Snape says with finality.
"No."
"What do you mean No?"
He sits a little straighter in the stool. "I won't go back to them." He can't remember why, he just knows that he can't go back. Something bad will happen if he goes back. He slips off the stool and has to look even higher to stare Snape in the face. "If you'll excuse me."
Before he gets even a foot away, Snape grabs him by the scruff of his neck and drags him out of the pub. "You listen to me, Potter," Snape growls and pushes Harry against the side of the building. "There's been a constant search party for you ever since you left those Muggles. You will show gratitude," he hisses.
"We feed you, clothe you, give you everything and this is the thanks we get?!" Aunt Petunia shrieks and throws the frying pan at him. He ducks just in time.
"I'm sorry!"
"I'm sorry!" Harry cries, ashamed of the panic in his voice. But Snape is already walking towards the castle. Harry runs to keep up but his feet feel awkward and he trips more than once. "Please don't send me back there!"
"Why shouldn't we?" Snape calls over his shoulder.
"I don't remember!" Harry shouts in frustration. He holds his head and digs his fingers into his temple. "I don't remember!" Maybe if he tries hard enough he can pull the memories out. Stupid Snape asks so many questions that he can't answer and Harry hates him for making him feel like this.
"Potter!" Snape shouts and forces him to let go of his head. Harry's fingernails are red, red like --
Blood. His blood flowing down his chest in a thin stream. Lucius makes him watch as each cut is made; blood trickles down his arms and legs. He shivers when Lucius licks the trail swirling past his navel.
When Lucius kisses him, he can taste it. Metallic but sweet. He wants to wash all the blood off. He wants it to end but Lucius just smiles at him and kisses him again and again; his toes curl and he leans into it and the sting of the knife isn't so bad.
Blood. His blood.
Snape is shaking him. "Potter?"
His head is spinning and the skin under his fingernails is so tempting and he wants...he wants something. He looks at Lucius but there's something wrong. "What happened to your hair?" He whispers.
Snape frowns. "There's nothing wrong with my hair." The insolent brat -- his hair has been the same for the last decade!
Harry shakes his head.
"There's nothing wrong with my hair."
Delayed but he hears it now. He looks up again. "Who said anything about your hair?"
"You--" Snape stops and stares at Harry. He suddenly feels very cold in the August sun. "Come on, we should get to the castle. Minerva will be thrilled to see you."
Harry follows him obediently and tries to keep up with his strides. "Are you going to send me back to the Dursley's?"
"That's up to Minerva and Albus," he says and slows when he hears Harry puffing for air.
"Are they mad at me for leaving?"
"I don't know if 'mad' is the right word. They were very concerned."
Harry sighs in frustration and scrunches up his forehead as he tries to think. " If I could remember why I left I would tell you, really I would!"
Snape grunts. "Of course you would,Ó he grumbles and mumbles something about wild goose chases and how heÕd very much like to ring HarryÕs neck if the opportunity ever arose. ÒYou wonÕt leave the castle without anyoneÕs permission,Ó he said. It wasnÕt a question or a request, it was a demand. Snape wanted to keep an eye on Harry.
"Yes, sir."
They walk in silence for several minutes. Harry listens as the frogs chirp and the wind rustles through the trees. It feels like ages since he's been outdoors. Maybe it has. He skips a little and hums a silly song to himself about faeries that Neville taught him last year. He remembers that. He remembers Neville.
And flying. He wonders what happened to his broom. Did he leave it at the Dursley's? He had a trunk once. But its the broom he wants right now. He thinks he might feel better if he had it with him. He furrows his brow. But how did he get the broom? The Dursley's wouldn't have bought him one.
McGonagall. He can see her face now. Thinking about Professor McGonagall makes him smile. She gave him the broom. Maybe she would know what happened to it. But something happened with the broom. Something... almost falling. It evolves in his head like a water-color painting. Quidditch. He almost had the Snitch. He can almost feel it in his hand and then--
--Quirrel almost killed him. Quirrel was cursing him but they thought it was Snape.
"Sorry about your robe."
"I beg your pardon?"
"At the Quidditch game last term." Harry tries not to laugh. "Hermione set your robe on fire. She thought you were the one cursing me. Later we found out it was Quirrel." He kicks at a rock. "I'm sorry."
Snape grunts again but itÕs a little more like a pained wheeze.
The rest of the walk is in silence.
-:-
As soon as Harry walks through Hogwarts doors he feels different. He can't quite put his finger on it but there's something about the way it smells or the way it tastes that makes his skin tingle. He feels like maybe he should hug the walls; maybe they'd hug back.
"Come, Potter. Professor McGonagall will be overjoyed to see you." Snape turns in a familiar direction. Not Dumbledore's Office but... and then he sees it. Home. Gryffindor Tower. He thinks it may be the most beautiful thing he's ever seen in his life.
Snape raps on the portrait next to the Fat Lady and mumbles the password. The portrait swings open and Snape ushers Harry inside. "Professor McGonagall?"
"In the study." Her voice is muffled behind the thick door.
"Wait here." Snape instructs him and slips behind the study door.
Harry's never seen a professor's living quarters before. The floor is stone, just like the rest of the castle but there are pretty purple and red rugs under the sofa and chairs. There is a fire in the hearth which Harry thinks is odd since it's August but it doesn't seem to make a difference in the temperature of the room.
There's a portrait of a cat over the sofa and as he stares closer, he notices the twitch of the whiskers and the blinking of the eyes. He wonders if its Professor McGonagall or just a cat that looks similar. Maybe she likes seeing cats that look like her. Upon closer inspection, he can make out the markings around the eyes that look like glasses.
It's the only portrait in the room that moves. All the others are stand-still, Muggle portraits. None of them catch his attention the way the one above the sofa did so he sits beneath it and waits for one of the professors to appear. He really hopes that he can convince them not to send him away.
He jumps when the study door opens and Professor McGonagall is staring at him. "Potter." She just keeps staring at him. It's a little unnerving and Harry begins to squirm just a little. She comes farther into the room and sits next to him on the sofa. Carefully, she watches him. "If you ever do that again, Merlin help me!" She declares.
"Don't send me back to the Dursley's and I won't."
Snape is unwillingly impressed.
McGonagall is not the sort to negotiate. "That is not my decision but the Headmaster isn't at the school at the moment. You'll stay here until he returns." It's a small victory but Harry accepts it. "But Merlin knows where we'll put you. All the Houses are being cleaned over the summer as well as the classrooms."
"You have a spare room, do you not?" Snape suggests.
McGonagall nods thoughtfully. "It's small but it'll do the trick for now. Where are your things?"
That's precisely the question Harry's been asking himself for the last hour. "I don't remember," he mutters miserably. He hates saying that. He knows his trunk is somewhere he just doesn't know exactly where.
She sighs. "Well I'm afraid I won't have time to take you shopping for new clothes. I think we have some spare uniforms lying around that we can shrink to fit you." She smiles fondly at him. "It's good to see you, Harry."
-:-
He wakes from a dream he does not remember. Sheets slick with the sweat rolling down his forehead. Phantom hands caress him between his legs, the last vestiges of fruit citrus pass his lips; but as he licks them he tastes nothing. Part of the dream that lingers in real time and leaves him aching inside. Shame creeps its way up his spine and curls in the pit of his stomach. Something happened that he should be ashamed of, something that wasn't right.
He pulls the blankets closer, ignoring the sweat that's cooling on the surface. His head hurts and he feels like he should throw up; as if vomiting will propel the memories out of him. It was all wrong, all so very wrong but he remembers... he remembers belonging. He's not sure if he belongs here in Professor McGonagall's spare room decorated in blue.
Carefully, he untangles himself from the blanket and tip-toes over to the open window. The sun is rising over the lake, rays of bright light spreading across the surface and reflecting back; double sun rising and it looks warm. He wonders what it looks like from under the surface, beneath the lazy waves of the lake. He sticks his hand out the window and closes one eye; it looks like he's almost touching the lake. His larger-than-human finger touching the water in the distance.
Maybe Lucius will let him swim today.
-:-
He's never eaten so much in his life! Pastries, cakes, meatpies, and all the pumpkin juice he can swallow. He tries to be proper in this formal setting but Lucius just smiles and tells him to eat as much as he wants. Mountains of food, more than at school; each one tastes better than the last. His fingers are sticky with honey and sugar; his face smeared with chocolate and grease. He's never felt so full and content.
Lazily , he blinks as Lucius picks up Harry's hand and licks off the honey and sugar; laps at each finger until its clean except for his saliva. A warm feeling curls in the pit of Harry's stomach as its repeated on the second hand. Fleetingly he wonders if Lucius will clean his face in the same manor but he's getting tired again. "I'm tired," he whispers. But he just woke up an hour ago.
There's something in Lucius' eyes that flicker, it makes Harry's skin crawl but he's unable to move as Lucius picks him up from his chair. "Then we'll take you to bed," Lucius whispers and his hand slides into places that make Harry blush and stutter; places Aunt Petunia said never to touch except for washing and even then in moderation. He's unable to protest as Lucius kisses him and suddenly Harry wishes his hands were still covered in honey and sugar so Lucius would stop kissing him.
"Are you all right?" McGonagall asks gently.
Harry's frozen, staring at his plate of food and suddenly the last thing he wants is to eat. There's something in the food. There's always something in the food. Never touch the glass with the gold rim; it burns when it goes down. "I-I'm not hungry, thank you," he whispers and pushes the plate as far away as possible. It knocks the goblet a little too hard and that's when he realizes his hands are shaking. It's a little hard to breath and the room is so warm, too warm. He pulls at the collar of his shirt but there's no tie to undo and he wants so badly to go the lake and drown himself in crystal cool waters until he's blue and shivering; better than what he feels now.
McGonagall touches his shoulder and his back bends into a strange parody of a bow. She withdraws her hand but moves closer to him. "Harry," she says softly. "Harry, you need to eat something."
"It's all your favorite foods," Lucius whispers in his ear. "Pancakes dripping with butter and maple syrup."
He grasps the side of the table and shakes his head. The house elves made his favorite breakfast this morning. But its wrong. "No," he whispers and manages to get away from the table. On feet that are too big and legs that don't feel the right length, he runs from the Great Hall. He can hear his feet echoing on the stone in his ear and his heart pounding so hard he's sure it will break out of his chest. It hurts so much. There's something inside him that needs to get out, something that won't leave him alone.
He hears the voice and the spell but not soon enough. "STUPEFY!"
Not like this! He pleads but he can't say anything. Please not like this. He can feel the tears welling up in his eyes but there's no place for them to go. The salt burns his eyes and he's so weak for being caught, for letting them capture him.
"Stupid move, Potter," Draco hisses and circles his immobile body. "Never turn your back to me, not here; not in my home." He's grinning wickedly, a mirror image of how Lucius grins at him at night right before --
-- "Let him go, Severus," McGonagall demands. He tries to concentrate on McGonagall's voice, not the ones running rampant in his head.
"So he can run off again?" Snape sneers, staring at the stone form.
"Draco, play nicely," Lucius says from behind him.
Lucius! Lucius will save him, Lucius won't let Draco hurt him.
"Yes father."
"Nothing below the belt, that's mine."
Draco's smile widens. "Yes, father." The first cut is shallow but made to draw blood. A cross right above his heart.
She glares spectacularly at him. "I am acting Headmistress, Severus. Let him go, now!"
He growls at her but lets Harry go.
He has to escape, he has to get out. He has to get out of the mansion before they kill him. They're going to kill him.
It's hard to breath and he scratches at the stone under his head. It's coming, crawling up his throat; its going to rip him apart from the inside out. It's coming. He vomits all over the floor.
-:-
He wakes up in that strange bed in McGonagall's spare bedroom again. She's sitting next to him and there's a flannel on the nightstand; part of it is pink. He knows that shade of pink. He doesn't remember bleeding. McGonagall wouldn't bleed him, either. There's a mug next to the flannel and he hopes they haven't force fed him somehow. But he doesn't feel the same way, the lingering drowsiness isn't there.
"How are you feeling?" She asks without looking up from her book.
"Okay," he whispers.
She takes off her glasses and stares at him intently. "I don't suppose you remember anything."
"I threw up," he replies weakly.
"Yes, yes you did. All over Severus' shoes. You may want to watch out for him." Her smile is warm and makes his spine tingle. "Anything else?"
He swallows and nods. "They were going to hurt me. I was tied up and gagged and he cut me. And he didn't protect me. I don't know why I thought he would but he didn't and it hurt."
"Can you remember who?"
He shakes his head. "No. But they looked... similiar. Like, statues and marble. I'm sorry."
She strokes the top of his head slowly. "It's all right." Carefully she picks up the mug. "I need you to drink this." She stares him in the eye. "It's just mint tea. I promise its nothing else."
He nods, he trusts her. The mug is warm in his hand, a warming charm he supposes and sips. It tastes good and reminds him of something; something not bad. It makes his tongue tingle and he drinks it quicker. When its empty, he feels tired but in a better way.
"Why don't you go outside. I think you could use the fresh air."
-:-
At dinner, McGonagall makes a show of filling his plate with the same things on hers. She takes a bite of each one and smiles at him so he knows its safe. Still he's a little apprehensive and takes small, controlled bites. He doesn't touch the goblet, though; he doesn't trust anything in a goblet. She eyes him and turns the goblet clear. Its deep orange with tiny specks of pulp floating in it. But he knows that lots of things can be masked in pumpkin juice and he shakes his head.
Snape sneers at him, grabs the goblet and takes a large gulp. "No one's trying to poison you," he hisses and puts it back in front of Harry.
Harry shrinks away from him but smiles shyly at him. He takes a sip and he swears he can almost taste the way Snape smells. It doesn't call up revultion like he thinks it should. Instead he sits and he eats and he drinks and when he's finished, he isn't sleepy and there isn't anything on his fingers. He's been achingly careful to keep everything away from his fingers and wiped his face after every bite of food. Risks, he thinks, never take risks.
Desert makes him uneasy. There are ten kinds of ice cream and three different pies and there's whipped cream everywhere. He remembers that he used to really enjoy whipped cream. He lets McGonagall serve him a scoop of chocolate but refuses anything put on it. He eats it slowly and watches McGonagall carefully as she piles her own desert with chocolate syrup and whipped cream, even the cherry. He doesn't remember ever seeing McGonagall so excited about ice cream. When she takes a huge spoonful into her mouth and closes her eyes and sighs, Harry knows its okay and tries to enjoy his ice cream as much as she does.
Snape takes pie. A sliver of cherry oozing with jelly and a crust as yellow as the sun, lightly browned around the edges and a dollop of cream on top. Harry's never seen Snape eat desert either and he's fascinated by the way Snape eats. One small bite at a time but it looks like he savors it as much as McGonagall eats hers like there's no tomorrow. He's never noticed how differently people eat desert.
-:-
"Albus is coming back tomorrow," McGonagall says and Harry freezes, spoon half-way to his mouth. His hand shakes a little as he places it back in his bowl.
He swallows. "Will he send me back?"
She sighs. "I don't know. I don't see why he would, though. There's only another week and a half until term starts." A collective groan comes from the rest of the staff but McGonagall smiles. "Its pointless to send you back when you'll just be coming back in ten days." Relief floods through him. "I can't make any promises though." He nods and pushes his spoon into the remains of his ice cream until its very near liquid.
What if Dumbledore decides to send him back? He chews on his lip and tries desperately to remember why its a bad idea. But he ran away once so he could run away again. Maybe if he could remember, he could get Dumbledore to listen and understand why he can't go back. He closes his eyes and his forehead scrunches in concentration. Its right there, just on the edge of his memory. Its like a cold draft but he can't find where its coming from.
A hand lands on his shoulder and shakes him. Harry jumps and blinks up into Snape's face. "Time for bed, Potter," he says.
Harry nods and follows McGonagall back to the tower. She offers him a mug of chocolate but he declines. "I think I want to go to bed." She lets him go and he slips into the spare room. It's cool from the window being open all day and the night time sounds invade his room; the crickets are out and he can hear the lake and he thinks that if he tries hard enough he can hear mersong from deep under the surface.
He crawls under the blankets and extinguishes the light; wills himself to fall asleep in hopes that something might be revealed in his dreams; something he might remember.
-:-
"What happened?" Lucius asks as he touches Harry's back.
He's tired and the touch is soft, non-evasive but he flinches out of habit, recoils; instinctual. "My cousin and his friends."
Lucius hand is still gentle but it doesn't occur to Harry that its strange his shirt has been discarded and Lucius is steadily removing his trousers, paying a lot of attention to his arse. All Harry really feels is soft hands that aren't trying to hurt him and he's glad he ran away.
"Do your relatives not feed you?" Lucius inquires as he strokes over protruding ribs and sensitive bone.
Harry shrugs. "They don't like me, much. Or magic. They're scared of magic." The duvet is so soft under his stomach and he can feel his eyelids drooping as the soft touches continue and his trousers and pants are stripped off.
There's a gentle rustling and then Lucius is lieing next to him, alabaster skin almost glowing in the faint torch light. He brushes Harry's hair away from his face. "Has it always been like that?" He pulls Harry against him, back to front and begins a slow grind against Harry's arse as he whispers something Harry can't quite hear in his current state.
He nods as his breath quickens. One of Lucius' perfectly manicured hands wraps around his penis. "Yes," he squeaks and tries to move away.
Lucius grip tightens and Harry whimpers. "Why didn't you run away sooner?" He nudges Harry's sphincter.
"I never had anywhere to go," he says as his voice quivers.
He smirks and pulls Harry sharply onto his cock. Harry cries out. "Welcome home," Lucius whispers into Harry's ear.
-:-
He wakes up and remembers. He was in a mansion. A man. Blonde hair. A Malfoy. He untangles himself from the sheets and keeps on chanting it inside his head. A mansion. A man. Blonde hair. He throws open his door and runs to McGonagall's door. "Professor McGonagall!" He shouts and pounds on the door. A mansion. A man. "Professor McGonagall!" A mansion!
The door flies open. "What is it? Are you ill?"
He opens his mouth to tell her all about his dream but instead he stands dumbfound in front of her. He can see it, see it dancing away, just out of reach. It's there on the tip of his tongue and then gone like sugar in water. "I--"
She stares at him. "Yes?"
He hangs his head. "I can't remember," he says miserably. "I'm sorry to have woken you. I remembered when I woke up. I remembered it all, I swear I did!" He pleaded with her to believe him. "It was there, plain as anything and I ran and-and." And then it was gone, like so many ice cubes in the middle of August.
McGonagall hugs him to her and lets him cling to her. "You should go back to sleep," she whispers. "Everything will be all right in the morning." Albus will know what to do.
He nods and sulks back to the spare room. He crawls back under the sweat-soaked covers for the second night in a row and tries to remember.
-:-
He's running. He's running through dark hallways covered in portraits, family photos. He can see the door, just a few more feet and he's free. But he doesn't see Draco hiding in the shadows and he doesn't see the puddle of water; but he sees his feet fly out from under him and feels the floor when his head cracks against it. He tries to get up again but a foot lands on his throat.
"Don't move," Draco hisses. "Father!" He calls and Harry's blood freezes.
"NO." It leaves his mouth before he can control himself.
Draco smirks. "'No'? Do you not want father to know that his favorite whore is trying to escape?"
Whore. That's what he is now, the whore of Lucius Malfoy and he isn't sure he doesn't enjoy it. Just because he wants to leave doesn't mean he doesn't like being fucked against a wall or tied to the bed. Just because he wants to leave doesn't mean he doesn't like being whipped if it means he'll be fucked later. But its the bleeding he can't stand. Watching his blood flow down his body and he unable to do anything. "Let me go." His voice is much steadier than he feels.
Draco leans down until they're nose to nose. "Where will you go if I let you go?" His eyes flicker. "Back to those Muggles?" He taunts. "Maybe your Uncle will fuck you if you ask him." He presses his lips against Harry's ear. "Father's told me all about you, how tight you are, the noises you make." Harry shudders when Draco's tongue touches him. "I can hear your screams from the next wing. My father with Harry Potter under him; I know you beg for it." He sits astride Harry's lap and Harry's eyes widen when he feels it; Draco's hard for him.
"So," he spits back. "You just wanna fuck me, too?" It sounds strange coming from his throat. "Can let me go without having your own hurrah?" He knows he shouldn't taunt Draco; Lucius will let Draco do whatever he wants. A fact Harry learned the hard way. "Or do you want me to fuck you?" Draco stiffens and maybe Harry's gone too far, or maybe he's hit the jack pot. "You want me to fuck you because Lucius won't do it. He'll bring home me and dozens of other boys prettier than you and you're jealous cause Daddy won't skewer you like he does the rest." His teeth click when Draco back-hands him across the face.
"You won't talk to me like that," Draco growls.
"But I'm right," Harry teases with a grin. "You just want to feel Daddy's cock up your arse, you just want Daddy to love you."
"That's enough." Lucius' voice is cold and low but echoes in the hallway. Draco stills and Harry stops breathing. "Get off him, Draco." Draco slids off Harry and lands on the floor with a dull thud. When Lucius turns to him, Harry automatically looks away. His punishment will be worse, he knows. "Get. Up." Slowly, he gets to his feet, careful of the puddle that caused him to sleep before. "Follow me." Lucius turns and stalks down the hall.
Draco smirks at him before Harry scurries after him. As soon as they enter the bedroom, it happens so fast. The tearing of clothes, ripping skin, and whispers in his ear that he can't quite hear. The blade of the knife flashes in the torchlight but it never comes in contact with his skin. Just Lucius saying horrible things in his ear before he's thrown onto the bed and left there.
And he thinks that being abandoned is the worst punishment Lucius could've ever given him.
-:-
He wakes up in tears. He's crying so hard his spine hurts and he keeps muttering a name he can't remember. Over and over again. He's sorry he left, he never should've gone. He was loved, he was cared for. But it hurt. It was a love that split him in half and made him bleed. His heart aches in his chest and he wants to go back but heÕs afraid of what heÕll find if he does. He wants to be loved but not like that, never like that again. He cries bitter tears as the memories float away on invisible clouds and he realizes he doesn't know why he's crying. It seems so silly and he wipes his eyes and gets dressed as the sun skates across the lake, taking the last vestige of his dream with it.
He meets McGonagall in the living room and they walk to breakfast together but he doesn't tell her about his sudden burst of emotion. How embarrassing!
-:-
Harry fidgets as Dumbledore looks at him over the rim of his half-moon glasses. He has a feeling Dumbledore won't believe a single word he's spewed over the last half hour no matter how true they are. And there's something about Dumbledore's eyes that frighten him. They're usually kind and gentle, willing to help him at every turn but it seems wrong this time.
"You remember nothing? Not even why you left the Dursley's?"
Harry shakes his head meekly.
"If I may, Headmaster," Snape interjects. "Selective Obliviate? Amnesia maybe?"
Dumbledore nods slowly. "You have moments where you remember but forget immediately afterwards?"
He nods.
Dumbledore leans back in his chair and moves the lemon drop from the left to the right side of his mouth. His gaze shifts from Harry over to Snape. "Where did you find him?"
"The Three Broomsticks. Madam Rosmerta contacted me when he came into the pub day before yesterday. She said one of her witches saw him there a few weeks earlier but had disappeared after a cup of chocolate had been sent to his table."
Harry blinks. He doesn't remember that; he knows that he should. It feels like ages ago but its there somewhere. He tries to pay better attention, what else does Snape know that he doesn't?
"Did she see who he left with?"
"No."
"But she did not contact us?"
Snape sighs. "Apparently she thought it was none of her business what Mr. Potter did." Harry stiffles a grin behind his hand but not well enough. "Do you find something amusing?" Snape snaps. Harry shakes his head and looks down at the floor to disguise his mirth. Snape sits a little straighter in his chair.
Dumbledore bites into the lemon drops, chews and swallows as he thinks. "There's no need to send you back to the Dursley's and if she doesn't mind having an extended visitor in her quarters until the new term starts than I see no reason to move you out of Professor McGonagall's spare room."
"What about my books for the term, sir? A-and my robes?" Harry asks quietly.
"Severus, you still need to get your potions supplies, correct?" Dumbledore asks.
Snape nods curtly. "Yes."
The Headmaster smiles. "Splendid! It's all settled then. Severus, you will get Harry's books while you're in Diagon Alley tomorrow. Standard second-year texts."
Harry glances sideways at Snape and it looks like his professor is turning an interesting shade of purple that goes wonderfully with his dark robes. He bites his tongue to keep from saying just that. He's surprised though when Snape only nods through clenched teeth and leaves without saying a word. Harry turns back to Dumbledore once the office door slams shut. "What about my robes, sir?"
The Headmaster pops another lemon drop into his mouth and Harry tries to ignore the orgasmic bliss kind of smile that flashes across Dumbledore's face; it lasts less than a second but somehow its familiar. Harry's seen that face somewhere but never on Dumbledore. He feels..conditioned to notice it.
Harry shivers as Dumbledore begins to speak: "Professor McGonagall seems to have found you a nice wardrobe. Those she's shrunk will last you through the year, I suspect."
He nods, suddenly very ready to run from the office. "Yes, sir. May I go?"
"Yes, go on. It's a beautiful day outside and I daresay you haven't been outside in months by the look of you," Dumbledore mumbles and, before Harry even reaches the door, is already going through the stack of letters that have accumulated in his absense.
The stairwell and the hallway feels so cold that the hair on his arm tingles and stands straight up. Absentmindedly, he rubs it flat again and lets his feet carry him outside. The air is hot and hits him so hard he stumbles backwards. It feels like only seconds before his hair is stuck to his scalp and he's gasping for a breath of air that doesn't make his throat close up. It reminds him of his cupboard. It was always unbearably hot during the summer.
He sits by the lake and takes off his shoes and socks. He wiggles his toes against the bank and waits for the waves to lap against his feet. The water is cold but it feels perfect in the suffocating heat. He thinks about how good it would feel to swim in it, his whole body submerged in the water but he doesn't have the proper attire and he's too bashful to strip. Most of the teachers are gone but he doesn't want to risk McGonagall or Snape finding him bare arsed and soaking wet. The thought is tempting though and his fingers are itching to undo buttons and slacks. Harry swallows and looks around. The lake is far enough from the castle that no one would really be able to see him.
Soft hands unbutton his shirt as Lucius kisses him. It's so easy to get lost in Lucius' kisses. His lips are so soft but hard at the same time and when a hand snakes down to his trousers, Harry leans forward and allows them to be pushed aside. "No one can see you but me," Lucius whispers in his ear.
He nods and tilts his head upwards for more kisses but Lucius grasps him by the shoulders and shakes him so hard his teeth knock together. Harry whimpers and tries to pull away. "You're hurting me."
Lucius crushes his mouth to Harry's and it feels like he's trying to tear Harry's mouth to pieces. Harry's caught between pain and the need to submit so Lucius will stop. When their mouths are forced apart, Harry swears that Lucius' teeth look a little pink and he can taste blood on his tongue. "No one will ever see you but me. Say it!"
Harry chokes when Lucius kisses him again and forces his tongue far back enough to gag him. He yelps when Lucius grabs his nipple and twists it until it burns. "No one will ever see me but you!" He cries.
Lucius smirks and pushes Harry to his knees.
But there's something that keeps him from shucking his clothes and running in. Its a feeling on his skin that's paralyzed his knees and his arms have found their way to his shoulders. It's suddenly much too cold to go swimming and he jumps away from the water that now feels like a thousand ice cubes.
Quickly he pulls his shoes back on and stuffs the socks into his pocket. "Time to go inside," he mutters and runs back to the castle. He's never been more relieved to be within the castle walls and he stops for a second to catch his breath. The Entry Hall is dark and the air is much warmer and some of the feeling returns to his fingers. His skin feels like its been scrubbed raw before he realizes his nails are scraping along his shoulder and down his arm beneath his shirt.
It hurts when he swallows and he runs to the spare room. McGonagall is nowhere to be found, probably in her study, but Harry is grateful for the time by himself. He wants it to be night so he can crawl under his blankets and sleep but he feels too awake. He paces his room before closing the window and latching it to keep something out. He begins to chew his nails and fondle the handle of his wand.
Tomorrow, he thinks, everything will be okay tomorrow.
-:-
But tomorrow finds him walking down to the dungeons after dinner. The steps are uneven and they feel like they're moving to try and get him to trip. Typical Slytherin motivation, Harry thinks and does a pretty good job dodging their attempts at humiliation. But its strange, the steps have never moved before.
Harry stops in front of Snape's office and knocks on the door. Uncomfortably, he shifts from one foot to the other and tries to ignore the heckling portraits on the walls. There's no noise from inside so he raps a little louder, his heart pumping in his throat. Maybe Snape forgot and Harry can go running back to the upper levels. He doesn't like the way it smells down here.
He jumps when a door opens farther down the hall and Snape sticks his head out. "What do you want?" He snarls from behind a pair of huge goggles that seem to magnify his eyes somehow.
Harry bites his lip to keep from laughing. "My books, sir."
Snape harrumphs but leaves the door open just enough for Harry to squeeze in. The air is thick with fumes and it makes Harry a little dizzy when he enters. He scrubs his eyes with the back of his hand as they begin to water. "They're over there, in the back."
Harry blinks rapidly and follows the way Snape is pointing. He bumps into a table on the way and his eyes are beginning to really burn as he presses the heel of his palm into each socket. Each breath feels like he's inhaling lavender and clove. It's suffocating and his lungs gasp for clean, fresh air. "Professor," he croaks as his eyes roll back in his head.
-:-
He opens his eyes. He squints and rubs them with his fists, blinks and stares. Even without his glasses he knows he's somewhere he shouldn't be. He scrunches up his face trying to remember where he was last -- the pub; The Three Broomsticks. He and Hedwig had gotten lost in a fog somewhere over Bristol. He's not sure what happened between that, though. He remembers cocoa and someone asking him questions.
"I see you've woken up."
Harry jerks up and scrambles to the head of the bed, he realizes; he's on a bed. He's on someone's bed. In someone's bed. Oh God, what had he gotten himself into? "Who are you?"
A laugh. "You can't see me without your glasses?"
Cautiously Harry shakes his head and he hears a light thump next to him. He feels around for his glasses and slips them onto his nose. Standing in the doorway is a man with shortly cropped blonde hair. He reminds Harry of someone but he can't quite put his finger one it. "Who are you?" He repeats, watching the man like a hawk as he saunters into the room.
Equally, his host never takes his eyes off Harry as he gracefully leans against the post at the foot of the bed. "My, my. You are a handsome boy," he says, eyes sweeping over Harry from head to toe.
He swallows nervously and tries to push himself farther away but he's already reached the headboard and something is digging painfully into his back. "Who are you?" He demands with force in his voice while he tries to keep his whole body from shaking. Harry doesn't like the way this man is looking at him.
"Father?"
Both he and Harry whip around to see who is standing in the doorway. Harry feels something in his stomach grow very, very cold. The man smiles. "Ah, Draco. I believe you know our guest?"
Draco turns to Harry and a frown creases his otherwise perfect face. He nods and Harry can only imagine what torture he's in for. "Will he be with us long?"
The man opens his arm, a silent command for Draco to come to his side. "It has yet to be decided. You'll treat him the same as any of the others, I have no doubt."
He only nods before he is dismissed. Harry doesn't think he's ever seen Draco move that quickly. He looks back towards the man Draco called father. "You're--"
He sweeps into a bow. "--Lucius Malfoy. I have no doubt you've heard of me."
With great satisfaction Harry replies in the negative. "Not by name, no; but someone had to father that prat, I suppose." He's surprised by how quickly Lucius moves and how powerful the blow across his cheek is.
Lucius hovers over him as Harry cups his burning face. "You will not insult my family. Is that understand?"
He nods slowly. "Yes."
"Yes, what?"
He feels his skin crawl as he bites it out: "Yes, sir."
-:-
Harry squirms and fights when Lucius licks the side of his neck but Lucius holds him tightly by the shoulders. He bites Lucius' lip when he tries to kiss Harry; so hard that when he pulls away Harry can taste the blood on his tongue and see it against Lucius' pale skin.
He grins and licks the blood from Harry's chin where its dribbled down. Harry shivers with revulsion as Lucius bites his ear and he pushes futilely at LuciusÕ chest, hoping to throw him off balance or get him to stop touching him. But Lucius catches his wrists easily and holds him so tightly Harry thinks his wrists might break as he fights against the hold. His eyes widen as Lucius grins at him and he whimpers when his wrists are licked.
"Stop it, stop it, stop it," he says over and over again before Lucius silences him with a kiss that causes his neck to snap backwards and his spine to cry out. He feels something slide down his throat and its too late before he realizes he has no control over his limbs and every move he makes is slow, like heÕs moving through a vat of molasses. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth and doesnÕt sound right when he tries to talk; even his teeth feel like marshmallows.
"ThatÕs better," Lucius whispers into his ear and Harry wants to cry. He shouldÕve stayed at the DursleyÕs. He shouldÕve done what Dumbledore wanted. He never shouldÕve left on his own or gotten lost or accepted that cup of cocoa from someone he didnÕt know. HeÕs been so stupid and he wants to die now; maybe then Lucius will stop undressing him and pushing him towards the bed. His feet are nothing more than weights now and all too easily heÕs lifted onto the coverlet and deposited less than gently.
Again, he tries to fight as Lucius covers him with his own naked body but his arms are useless and his legs refuse to move at his command. His scream is muffled by his too-large tongue as a great pain shoots up his spine and he feels like his entire lower half is on fire. He tries to move, tries to scream, tries to do anything but it's all a jumble of uncoordinated slow movements that only make Lucius laugh at him. It hurts. It hurts, it hurts, IT HURTS. He never thought anything could hurt this much.
After Lucius leaves and Harry is left to himself, he manages to turn on his side and hug himself tightly. He feels cold but he can't move to pull the duvet over his shoulders. He's very aware of the blood dribbling from his backside and staining the blanket. He doesn't want to think about what the white is; he can make an intelligent guess but its one he wants to pretend that he'd ignorant to.
It was never this bad at the Dursley's. He wants to go home.
-:-
Lucius feeds him by hand. No utensils, just fingers jamming their way into his mouth covered in food that makes his stomach churn. Several times he's tried to throw up but Lucius just clamps his mouth shut until he swallows the bile back down. His throat is coated with acid and his entire chest feels like its been scraped with a cheese grater.
He swallows unwillingly around the goblet with the cold rim, he's not sure why he sees it as gold, its more of a yellow but as it burns its way down his throat, Harry knows it was a bad idea and he cries out, tries to scream. "Please, no. Not again!"
Lucius covers his mouth again and unzips his trousers, hovering over Harry's naked, shivering body. Harry screams into Lucius' hand when the pain returns.
-:-
He dreams that the devil has come to rescue him. Satan tanned to an almost Gryffindor red, horns protruding from his head and his smile so welcoming that Harry wants to run into his arms and plead to be taken away. Satan stands over him and Harry opens his arms. The devil will save him. His pointed tail snaps in the air and slithers its way underneath Harry's chin and down his neck to his chest. Harry stares as it moves down his stomach and wiggles into his trousers. Horrified, he looks up and its Lucius with the tanned almost Gryffindor red skin and horns so sharp they glint in the firelight. He's unable to scream.
-:-
He's numb when Lucius pulls out, pulling out Harry's insides along with him. Harry turns away and spots a shadow in the corner that makes his stomach clench.
"Come out, Draco," Lucius orders. A blonde head quickly followed by perfectly tailored black robes with a pin around his throat. He smirks at Harry before turning to his father. "Did you enjoy the show?" Draco nods once, hands clasped behind his back. Harry can just make out the part of the robe and he can see a bit of flesh that he recognizes. He wants to turn away but doesn't dare expose his backside to a Malfoy. Some silent exchange is made and Draco starts towards the bed and Lucius moves away.
Suddenly, Harry wants Lucius to come back; he needs Lucius to cover his naked body and protect him from the malicious look in Draco's eyes but Harry can't move, his limbs still nothing more than rubbery flesh that refuses to obey him. The horror in his eyes is apparent as Draco climbs onto the bed. Harry opens his mouth to protest but its filled with the blood head of a penis. Tears streak down his face as he fights but Lucius holds his wrists down above his head and he stares at Lucius, pleading with his eyes to be let go but Draco moves his hips forward and Harry gags.
He's sure he's found hell.
-:-
Harry opens his eyes. He's not sure where he is and it's a little hard to breath. He's on something soft and it vaguely occurs to him that he's on a couch and facing the back of it. He stiffens when a door opens and soft footsteps echo inside his head. He pulls his knees to his chest and waits for Lucius to strip him of his dignity. But no one touches him or comes near him and Harry licks his lips, tries to make some sound come out of his throat. "Master Lucius?" He squeaks softly. "Is that you?" He braces himself for the blow that will inevitably come from addressing his captor in such a casual way.
Hands clench his shoulders and he fights and squirms and screams out to be let go. He kicks at the air until his foot connects with flesh and he's let go as Lucius grunts. Harry crab-walks into the corner and covers his face with his hands, scared to death of the consequences of what he's done. He feels the bile moving up his throat and he manages to throw up into the fireplace, over and over again until the only thing that's left is dry heaves. He closes his eyes and just feels his back contract and crack with every arch. He coughs and with one more giant heave something slithers up through his mouth and he spits. It's tangy and metallic.
A gentle hand comes down on his back. "Potter." A gentle voice but one he recognizes.
"Professor Snape?" He turns his head and all he sees is black hair and black robes and he can't keep himself from launching himself at his professor in a desperate attempt to get away from the memories that are suddenly flooding his head. He remembers everything and for the life of him he wants to go back to the way it was; he doesn't want to remember anything. He doesn't cry as Snape picks him up and deposits him gently on the sofa and a potion is pressed against his lips. He trusts Snape, more than he trusts the memories in his head and he drinks and he's grateful for the sleepy feeling.
-:-
Severus stares at his young charge and the only thing he feels is anger. He pulls his wand from his sleeve and he knows that what he's about to do could very well get him fired or worse. But Harry is only twelve and Snape doesn't want to think about the things that are going through the boys head. He casts a spell that he is familiar with, one he perfected a long time ago while a slave to Voldemort. When Harry wakes up, he won't remember anything that happened before he left Hogwarts. He'll think he's spent the entire summer safely within the castle walls. Dumbledore will understand, of that Severus is almost sure of.
But he has some things to take care of. He leaves Harry to sleep and moves swiftly through the corridors until he passes the Apparation wards. He marches up to the front gate of Malfoy Manor and stalks in without consulting the house elf.
"MALFOY!" Severus bellows.
Lucius sticks his head out from his study. "Ah, Severus; do come in. Can I get you anything?" He hardly has a chance to return to his study when he feels the wand poking him in the back. "I see."
Severus glares at the back of his perfect, blonde head. "What you did -- I could kill you for what you did to Potter," he hisses; spit flies and he can't help but be pleased when some of it lands on Lucius' perfect, smooth neck.
He smirks and looks over his shoulder. It's been a long time since he's seen Severus so incensed. "What I did? It was entirely consensual in the end." He hits Lucius across the face with enough force to propel him into the wall. Lucius glares at him while he rubs his jaw. "Resorting to Muggle means of fighting?" He sneers.
Severus pins him to the wall by his shoulders. "If you lay a hand on him, I swear--"
"--Jealous?" Severus' mouth shuts involuntarily. He turns his face away when Lucius smiles. "That's it, isn't it? I got to the boy first." The grip on Lucius' shoulders lessen and he pushes Severus away, hard enough that he loses his footing but doesn't fall.
"That's ridiculous. I'm his teacher, nothing more," he says but swallows a little harder than necessary.
Lucius steps closer to him, slowly herding him towards the opposite wall. "I have no doubt that you haven't over-stepped your bounds as his professor." He twirls a piece of Severus' hair around his finger and grins when he bats Lucius' hand away. "But I think you've thought about it."
"You're disgusting," Severus hisses as his back comes in contact with the wall.
"And you're pathetic!" Lucius shouts. "You go to your room at night in those musky dungeons and you think of him, don't you? You think that if only he were a few years older he could be yours."
"Shut up," he growls but Lucius keeps on going.
"You crawl into bed all alone, like you have all your life and you think of him in his little Gryffindor tower with his little friends."
"Shut up! Shut up!"
Lucius' voice grows steadier and more sure. "You know that he'll never be yours, Dumbledore would never let you have him; but you think of him when you cum." Severus hits him again and goes for his wand but Lucius' hand rests over his, stopping him from extracting it and blowing Lucius to pieces. "Shh," he whispers and nuzzles Severus' neck, hand firmly on Severus' wand. "I won't tell, my love." Lucius nibbles on the shell of Severus' ear. "But you should've heard the sounds he made."
He stiffens and he doesn't care; he bites Lucius on the neck as hard as he can. When Lucius shouts and backs away, Severus pulls his wand and casts the first spell he can think of. He can feel the hate raging through his veins and the want to kill growing in the pit of his stomach. The words leave his mouth before he can stop them, before he can second-guess himself but there's no need to worry. Malfoy Manor is exempt from the rules, you can cast any spell in Malfoy Manor and no one will know about it even if you scream. And by the time they find Lucius, Severus' magical scent will be gone and there will be no evidence, not like last time.
Lucius writhes on the floor, mind-splitting pain skewering his every thought. He bites his lip to keep from screaming, he won't give Severus the satisfaction but no one has cast this spell on him in years; his body is no longer desensitized. He grinds his teeth together and tastes the blood in his mouth before he realizes its his tongue he's biting.
He can see Severus standing above him, wand pointed directly at his heart. He gathers enough strength to grin and show blood-stained teeth. "You're no better than I am," he wheezes and grunts when Severus' boot connects with his face but the curse ends and he's able to breathe again. "Going to finish me off then?" He taunts but there's no venom.
Severus smiles at him. Lucius hasn't seen that smile in near ten years. It is anything but pleasant, only teeth; yellow, crooked teeth that somehow look wrong in Severus' head. There is no mirth in that smile, only hatred, insanity. He presses his wand to Lucius throat. "There are other spells than the Avada," he says, voice dull.
A spell to slice your opponents throat without the use of a knife. Instant and leaves no trace behind. The only problem is getting your wand flush against the victim's throat. Lucius returns that strange psychotic smile. "Go ahead," he says. "I'll die proudly knowing you had the balls to finish me off. Dumbledore would be so proud."
"You're not worth it," Severus says and turns to go.
Lucius stands on shaky knees. "The cry of the weak. Go on, Severus. Run back to your precious Dumbledore and give his ass a good kiss for me while you're down there." Severus keeps walking, wand clutched in his hand. "They're all disgusted by you!" Lucius shouts as Severus grasps the knob of the front door. "Potter would never fall for someone like you, no matter how old. Like father, like son, Severus." His hand is shaking as he tries to turn the knob but somehow he can't get a firm enough grip. "Find a nice boy in Knockturn Alley, he'll take care of you."
Severus turns and stares at Lucius leaning in the doorway of the study, holding his side. "We're not all perverts like you, Lucius."
He smiles at Severus and coughs when he tries to laugh. "No but at least I know what I am, Severus."
The comment stings more than he'd like to admit. "Good-night, Lucius."
He nods. "Good-night, Severus."
He steps out into the stifling August air and pulls his robe a little bit tighter as he walks beyond the Apparation wards. The steel gate clangs behind him and as he thinks about Hogsmeade, his concentration shifts until he sees Knockturn Alley. He feels his body slip away and reform in front of the Apothecary.
There's a young boy leaning against the wall in nice enough clothes and he makes eyes at Severus; smiles at him and flashes dirty white teeth. He has dark hair and light eyes. If Severus squints, they're almost green. He follows the boy into the alley. He hates it when Lucius is right.
End.