disclaimer: I am making no money on this fan fiction, I am only borrowing characters from the Harry Potter books.


Rated nc-17 


Warnings-  violence, non-consensual sex, implied child molestation, bdsm, hurt/comfort, quite disturbing in the first few chapters, please be warned


HP - DM    HP - LV    AD - and... everyone?  mostly implied






Delusions of Grandeur

chapter 3

No Mercy





A beautiful, snowy white owl rested down uncomfortably over Lucius’ forearm, and hastily lifted her leg to him to remove the note. “Whoa, girl.” said Lucius, gently grasping the leg to prevent it’s return flight, “Perhaps you should wait until I’ve read the letter. I may need to reply.”



Severus Snape recognised the bird immediately. “That’s Harry Potter’s owl.”



Garnering the room’s attention, Voldemort, Snape, and Pettigrew huddled around to read the note behind Lucius.



“Interesting!” exclaimed Voldemort, snapping up the letter into his own hand, “Friends of Harry, asking us for help. It seems the children you wrote to have shared their knowledge with them.”



Lucius and Snape exchanged glances. “Hermione Granger is the brightest child in Hogwarts. Head Girl, insufferably nosy. This letter doesn’t surprise me. I’m only stunned she got the courage to write you this quickly. She must know something we don’t.” said Snape.



“Write her back! We need her assistance.” demanded Voldemort.



“She’s muggleborn.” added Severus.



“Like I give a damn. We don’t have time to pick and choose our allies behind those wards right now.”



“I agree.” said a very forlorn Lucius.





Argus Filch had his Kwik-Spell booklet in hand, holding it up to the torches on the wall to see better. Both boys had just been cleaned, forced into a transfigured bathtub made by Albus. They coughed and sputtered out the suds from their lungs in the corner of their cell for several minutes, before curling up into each other to fall back asleep.



“Alohomora!” he shouted, pointing his wand at the cell door. Frowning, he tried again... and again... and again, but nothing ever happened. Tossing the obviously broken wand to the floor, he pulled the skeleton key from his pocket, and unlocked the cell.



“Potter!” he hissed, jerking his thumb out behind him as the black-haired boy looking to his direction.



Holding a hand up to push Draco back from stopping him, Harry stood up on very shaky legs, and stepped towards him. He stumbled, unable to hold his own weight up any further, and fell into Argus’ arms.



Draco stood up quickly, growling through clenched teeth. “Can’t you see he’s sick?”



Argus held him around the waist, and locked the cell door. “He’s gonna be a lot sicker once I’m through with ‘im.” he chimed.



“Filch!” he cried, grabbing the bars, shaking them violently, as he pressed his forehead into them, “Listen to me. Don’t hurt him, he’ll die. Please... just look at him. Look down at him right now. He can’t take anymore. You’ve had your fun, now let him go!”



Argus looked over to the blond, grinning broadly. “Well, that’s sort of the point, now, ain’t it?”



Draco’s face turned grey, as all the blood quickly drained from it. It was true - they meant for Harry to die.






Lord Voldemort sat nervously upon his throne. Lucius stood over him, wand drawn. Severus shoved a phial of potion into his hand. “Drink it.”



With a nod, he tipped it back, swallowing it whole. “The spell is quite simple, really. It’s the potion that will keep you from going mad once the memories come back.” said Snape. Watching his master’s eyes dilate, until the pupil consumed all the red flecks, he knew he was ready.  He stepped back, nodding to Lucius to cast.



“Memoria Reparo!” shouted Lucius.




Like an atom bomb detonating in his mind, Lord Voldemort’s memories burst through the locked doors, and tore into his mental picture. He flinched back, falling over in his chair. His mouth opened with a silent shriek of horror, as the visions of a small, black haired boy, no older than 12 lay near death under the robes of Dumbledore. He clung to the fine material with broken fingers, no tears left, no blood left, just choked sobs for mercy.





“I should just let you die. No one cares about you, anyway, Tom. Who will miss the little orphan boy that nobody wants?”





“Master!” cried Lucius, lifting The Dark Lord back to an upright position over his throne. “Open your eyes, talk to me. Please, Master.”



His head lifted from his chest, and his crimson eyes opened slowly. A single tear fell, and ran down his cheek in remembrance. “Pensieve... I can’t speak of it.” he whispered, averting his gaze from the two Death Eater’s concerned looks.






“Blaise. Over here.” whispered Hermione, waving the striking Slytherin over to her hidden spot behind an ancient set of armour.



Blaise looked around the halls, seeing no one else, she darted over to the Gryffindor, and slid into hiding next to her. “What’s up, Granger?” she asked nervously, sensing the tenseness of the bushy haired girl’s expression. A note was thrust in her face, and she grabbed it.





Miss Granger,


I wouldn’t be writing to you if I hadn’t thought this situation was in dire need of assistance. Severus Snape has told us of your brilliance, and your unfathomed ability to gather information. We know your loyalty to Harry Potter, and your communication with friends of Draco, so you must have many founded worries.


I am not sure what has happened since the night the boys went missing, but I can tell you - They are in serious danger. I’m not sure how, but there is a connection between my Lord, and your friend. My Lord had a vision of the two boys, if this makes any sense at all to you. If it does, please send us anything that will help us pinpoint how we can use it, and get them away from that madman. You must know by now, it was Albus Dumbledore, and some caretaker, Filch something, that have imprisoned them. This is not a farce! If you value your friend’s life, you’ll listen to what I’m saying, and offer your services to help them survive.







“Oh, hell.” murmured Blaise. She turned to Hermione questioningly, “Do you know the connection?”



Hermione nodded. She had to tell. Even if it caused more damage than good, she couldn’t hold this back. If there was any chance of helping Harry, she couldn’t afford not to take it.



“Got a quill on you?” she asked. Blaise grabbed her hand, and pulled her down the hall. Sneaking her up to her dorm, they sat down to write the letter.







Thank you for sending me this information, and what I’m going to tell you now is a secret kept between a few of us, and Albus Dumbledore. It’s the scar on Harry’s forehead. It’s a possible link between them. Harry’s had visions before of Voldemort in dreams. Visions that, at first, made no sense, but turned out to be reality. This worries me greatly. I asked the Headmaster about them yesterday, and he said Harry might die. I know he’s lying about them, I know he’s done something. I want to help you stop him.


I must tell you, although I’m sure you know; I’m muggleborn, and very proud of it. I hope you can swallow your pride, and accept my help. I want this stopped as much as you do. Harry doesn’t have anyone, except myself and Ron, and he means more to us than any other person in this world. I’ll do anything to insure his safety.


Hermione Granger





Small teardrops fell onto the parchment as Hermione signed her name. Blaise felt a swell of pity tug at her heart, and hugged the smaller girl into her breast for comfort. “Shh, there, there. We’ll get him back. You’re doing the right thing, Granger. 








Harry was thrown back into the cell. The marks on his wrists bled openly now, the blood unable to clot.



“I’m going to get you out of here.” whispered Draco, gently tugging the wad of cloth out from between Harry’s teeth. “We’re going to free soon, and go stay at my family’s home, and take hot baths all day, and eat nothing but chocolate frogs fed to us by beautiful slave girls.”



Harry snorted. “You’re on. I’d risk a stay at your home, and feed Lucius chocolate frogs myself if we could get out of here.”



Draco wrapped the robe around them both, and settled down next to him on the old, rotted cot. “Get some sleep.” he whispered, kissing the tip of Harry’s nose.



Harry coughed, and blood splattered out over his lips. He gasped, and brought his hand up in embarrassment, but Draco shoved it away.



He wiped the blood away absently, and gave him a small peck on his bruised lips. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll get you all patched up. You’ll be fine.”



Harry smiled, and snuggled into Draco’s side for warmth. “Sure. That sounds great. Night, Draco.”



“Night, love.” whispered Draco.







Draco hadn’t slept a wink all night. His worry over Harry’s unnaturally shallow, and raspy breathing kept his ear glued to his chest. The breaths were growing weaker every hour, his heart rate had slowed considerably.



He was dying.



As many times as he shook him, Harry wouldn’t open his eyes. He made a few soft gurgled noises in his chest, but that was it.



Anxiety flooded his veins as Harry began to convulse. Draco trembled all over with panic. He stood up, and scanned the room with wide eyes, and screamed out for help. Even the old caretaker would be welcome company, maybe he would help.



His eyes caught something then. On the floor, parallel to the wall. A wand.



“A wand...” he mouthed, panting heavily, feeling his heartbeat pound against his ribcage. Filch’s wand, he must have left it behind. Harry’s convulsions ceased, and he fell limp once more into the cot. Draco ran back to his side, and pressed his ear against his chest. He wasn’t breathing. “Oh God!” he cried.



Whirling on his heel, he held his hand out towards the wand. “Accio!” he shouted. Nothing happened.



“Fuck!” he shrieked, gritting his teeth hard, shaking so badly he could hardly stand.



“Concentrate, you bastard, concentrate!“ he screamed at himself. He took a very deep breath, and swallowed his fear.



“Accio!” he hissed, hearing glass exploding around the room. The wand teetered on the floor, and flew into his hand.



Taking another heaving breath, he scooped Harry up into his free hand as he held the wand over his head. Albus Dumbledore walked in just then, gasping audibly as he witnessed the sight before him.



“Wait!” he cried - But they were gone. Apparated away to the only place Draco could think of.




Taking turns, each Death Eater entered the Pensieve, only to return looking white as a sheet. Lucius looked dead. His eyes held no life in them, and his body went rigid. Brief flashes of remembrance clouded his thoughts, and it was then that he knew it had happened to him, as well.



“I think... I think I remember..” said Lucius, feeling his knees knock together. Something opened up as he watched the vision, and his heart began to beat hard against his ribcage. He grabbed the phial of potion, and took a swig.



“Do it!” he shouted to Snape.



Snape raised his wand up, casting the spell without remorse.



As Voldemort had appeared, Lucius fell to the floor, screaming without a sound.




Visions of a 15 year old boy, looking so much like Draco, lying on the floor covered in blood. His back was shredded and torn to pieces, and Albus Dumbledore stood over him, kicking his ribs with his pointed boot.



“Always the pureblood, Lucius.”



His long, skeletal finger ran down his back, and lifted up, watching the blood leak down over his palm. He sucked his finger clean, tasting the pureblood on his tongue, and smiled.



“Yes, perhaps it is a bit richer. I’d have to test this theory on the new first year arrivals. So many purebloods... James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Severus Snape, Peter Pettigrew.... yes, so many to taste, so little time.”





“Wake up!” shouted Peter Pettigrew, shaking Lucius from his torment. Lucius flinched back, and balled himself up into a foetal position.



“You’re going to have to test Snape and Pettigrew, my Lord.” he choked.



Severus and Peter looked horrified. “What happened?” asked Snape frantically.



“He mentioned you both. He mentioned a lot of people actually.”



Lord Voldemort sat forward to speak, but a dreaded vision passed through his head. A vision of Draco screaming for help. He could hear it, but not in the vision, he could hear him with his ears.



Snape and Wormtail whirled around, looking at the door. They could hear him, too.



Lucius stood up, shoving the vision away, and ran to the door.



Lying on the floor in the sitting room, Draco held the near death boy in his arms, screaming almost incoherently at the top of his lungs. “Oh God, someone please hurry!”



Voldemort shoved everyone aside, and grabbed the unconscious boy up in his arms. He looked down at his face, and knew it was Harry. It was Harry, and he was almost dead. He wasn’t breathing, and he was blue. He walked off without a word as Draco grabbed the back of his robes in desperation.



Lucius wrenched Draco’s hands away and picked him up. He carried his hysterical son off right behind his master, to the medical room.








Part 4