disclaimer: I am making no money on this fan fiction, I am only borrowing characters from the Harry Potter books.
Warnings- violence, non-consensual sex, implied child molestation, bdsm, hurt/comfort, quite disturbing in the first few chapters, please be warned (see Note)
HP - DM HP - LV AD - and... Everyone? Mostly implied
Lord Voldemort dropped Harry down onto a cot. He snapped his fingers, and two elderly medi witches immediately apparated into the room. He pointed down to the lifeless body with fervour. “Do not let this child die!” he demanded. “If he dies, both of your heads will be mounted on this wall to remind others of your failure,”
Both witches bustled over to the cot, casting dozens of spells. Within moments, Harry took a deep breath into his lungs and coughed out buckets of blood out over his chest.
Draco was laid out in the bed next to him and the witches hesitated anxiously until their Lord gave one of them permission to attend to his needs. Lucius said nothing, only waited at his son’s side, petting his hair and wiping his tears away from his cheeks.
Voldemort stood between Harry’s and Draco’s beds, watching them both intently. Lucius conjured him and his master comfortable chairs, and the sat quietly as the boys were mended.
“I suppose it was a waste of time writing to that girl,” murmured Lucius.
Voldemort shook his head defiantly. “Oh, no, she’ll be quite handy. She’s still behind the wards,” he replied. “Now we have a trusted Gryffindor on our side. Who would ever suspect her?”
Cocking his aching head with confusion, Lucius looked to his pallid master. “What do you mean, my Lord? The boys are here, why would we need the children now?”
“I think we need to send Miss Zabini and Miss Granger the ingredients to that potion, and the incantation of the spell,” said Voldemort.
He stood up before Lucius could reply and grabbed a medi witch by the arm as she walked over to the unconscious boy. “Is he going to survive?”
The witch looked down at Harry and nodded briskly. “Yes, my Lord. He’ll recover mostly. He’ll never be like he was, but he could live a normal life.”
Normal life. HA! Voldemort laughed loudly, stirring Draco from his slumber. “No one in this room will ever have a ‘normal life’. Can he see, speak, hear, walk... does he have brain damage?”
The witch fidgeted nervously. “He’ll recover physically. He has vision, speech, hearing, use of his limbs, and no physical brain damage. It’s his mental state that worries me. His brainwaves are erratic and jumbled. Nothing life threatening in a physical manner, but he’ll need to be hospitalised for it, I’m afraid. He’ll be a danger to himself and to others if left untreated,” she murmured.
‘He’ll be like you...’ she thought privately.
“Treat him here. He’s not going anywhere.” he replied dryly, dropping his grip over the woman’s arm.
Draco sat up, and looked to the bed next to him. “Harry?” he said faintly, watching the smaller boy’s chest rise and fall under the sheet covering his nude form. He looked at his father then, and began sobbing uncontrollably.
Lucius climbed into his bed, and held him in his chest. “Oh there, there my child,” he soothed, rubbing circles over his back as he rocked him in his lap. “It’s all over. I will make them pay for what they did to you.”
Voldemort huffed, looking between Draco and Harry. “Why is he worse off? Tell me what happened, Draco Malfoy.” he ordered, garnering a look of shock from both blondes.
Draco cleared his throat, and wiped the tears off of his face with his sheet. He told them everything, from the beginning to the escape.
Hedwig flew down into the Great Hall, landing effortlessly on Ron’s shoulder. She nipped happily on his earlobe as he removed the letter attached to her leg. He fed her bits of sausage, and handed the letter to Hermione.
“Holy crickets!” she exclaimed, dropping the parchment on the table. She stood up and waved her hands over her head until Blaise looked up at her. She grabbed the parchment up and waved it in front of her for a second, then cocked her head towards the door.
“Careful, You-Know-Who is watching you,” whispered Ron in her ear. “Go. I’ll try and stop him if he follows. Hide that letter.”
Hermione nodded and bolted from the hall at top speed. Blaise ran up behind her, panting for breath. “What’s up?” she cried.
“Keep moving! We need to hide!” shouted Hermione.
Ron leapt in front of Albus as he made his way down the isle towards the exit. “Professor, how is Harry doing? We want to see him now!” he called out, making certain everyone around him could hear.
Albus smiled brightly, letting the twinkle in his eye be seen from every angle of the room. “Ah, Mr. Weasley, I was meaning to speak to you about that. Perhaps you could walk with me, and I’ll take you to see Harry. He‘s recovering now, and misses you a great deal.”
Ron’s eyes lit up. “Yes, of course, Professor!” He grabbed his book bag and scurried out of the hall behind his headmaster, elated that their worries were all a mistake, and he’d get to see Harry at last. If only he’d looked at the letter before handing it to Hermione, he wouldn’t have followed.
Hermione and Blaise clamoured into an empty cupboard together, and locked the door behind them. “Lumos!” said Hermione, and held up the blazing tip of her wand over the letter as Blaise read it aloud.
It seems a stroke of good fortune has fallen upon us all. Draco and Harry are here in my manor now. How they managed to evade the school, we are not certain, as apparating is supposed to be impossible from inside Hogwarts. We still need your help, and Harry needs your help. He was gravely wounded, and we are doing everything we can to ensure his recovery.
Please, only mention this letter to Miss Zabini, as she is as bright as you are, and she is very trustworthy. The two of you must go to Professor Snape’s stores, and gather up the ingredients on the attached parchment to make a potion. Make as many batches as you can. Professor Snape has granted you both permission to use his private quarters, the password is ‘Moonstruck’. Please, do not allow yourselves to be seen when entering his chambers, this is imperative.
Once you have completed the potion, as it takes only a day to brew, write me back with a sample. I will send further instructions at this time, as well as a progress report on Harry’s well-being. Tell Blaise to stay quiet about this, and that Draco has recovered fully.
I would suggest keeping any male children away from your headmaster. He’s most likely quite upset about the loss of the boys, and Draco has informed me the man is quite sadistic.
Blaise folded the letter up carefully with shaky fingers. “Dear lord. This is getting really weird,” she murmured. She shoved the letter in her pocket, and encircled her arms around Hermione’s waist, giving her a hug.
Hermione hugged her back, weeping silently. “They’re safe. At least they’re safe now,” she cried. She backed up a step and wiped her eyes dry. “We should start that potion. I wonder what it’s for.”
Blaise sniffled back the last of her sobs and shrugged. “Not sure. The ingredients are odd. Let’s get started on it though. The faster it’s complete, the more we’ll learn.”
Hermione nodded and unlocked the cupboard. She peeked out and saw no one, then waved Blaise out to follow.
Severus Snape swallowed the potion greedily, needing to know if the man he once worshipped had betrayed him, too. “I am ready,” he said in a deep, gruff voice. He closed his eyes and sat back in his chair as a wand tip in front of him lit up. Then the voice of Wormtail spoke the incantation.
Instantly, his mind exploded with vision after vision. He saw himself as a teenaged boy, being embraced in the arms of another black haired teenager. They were kissing, and an old man with a white beard stood over them -- Dumbledore. He was taunting them, telling them how dirty they were, and making them touch each other.
Both boys had tear streaks on their muddy cheeks, and both were lacking any sort of clothing. Their bodies were entwined, grinding their hips into the others on the old man’s orders.
“Ah, Mr. Potter... my beautiful pet Gryffindor, you kiss young Mr. Snape here with much more passion than pretty Mr. Black does. I’d of thought it would have been the other way around, but I was mistaken.”
The other dark haired boy’s lips quivered in shame over Severus’. They held each other closely for comfort, trembling with fear.
“And you, Mr. Snape, so eager to avoid punishment. You’d do anything to get out of a beating, wouldn’t you? Well, I’m afraid it just won’t work today. Pet, get back in the cell, Severus and I need to be intimate for a while.”
“No!” screamed Severus. He grasped handfuls of greasy, black hair in his hands, tugging it over his face to hide his shame. He retched on the floor between his legs several times as the vile images refused to leave him.
Lucius and Voldemort bowed their heads, feeling his pain.
Draco looked around carefully, and then climbed into Harry’s bed. He pulled the sheet up over both of their heads, and looked him over privately. Harry’s wounds were completely healed; his skin had the colour of gold glistening over it once more. Two thick, silvery bracelets were attached snugly around his wrists. He looked down at his small feet and saw two more metal shackles attached to his ankles. When Draco touched one of them, he could feel the cold metal siphon his magic away through his fingertips.
“Magic inhibitors,” he mused, jerking back with disgust. He pressed the palm of his hand over Harry’s chest, and gave it a shake. “Harry, wake up.”
“He won’t wake up,” said a voice standing over the bed.
Draco flung the sheet away from his face and looked up into the crimson eyes of Lord Voldemort. “Why not, I want to talk to him,” he said faintly, shivering from the chill the snake had brought with him into the room.
Draco’s eyes scanned over the old man’s features. He looked softer than before, nearly human. His face had filled out. His nose, lips, and eye shape were all normal now. Tiny black hairs were sprouting up all over his scalp like weeds. His white skin had a splash of olive to it as well. His hands now looked like Harry’s; they were soft, pale, and delicate.
Lord Voldemort pulled a chair up next to the bed and sat down. “I’ve had to take precautions. He’s a very powerful wizard, you know. I imagine he won’t be too happy about his new home once he’s allowed to awaken.”
Draco’s head fell forward into his chest. He hid his tear-filled eyes from the Dark Lord, fearing it was a weakness to him. He stammered over the words stuck on the tip of his tongue for several minutes, gathering the courage Harry had taught him.
“Are you going to kill him?” he asked finally, keeping his head bent low.
Voldemort shook his head. “No, that won’t be necessary at the moment. He can’t use magic any longer. Those bracelets in his wrists and ankles will never be removed.”
“I think he’d rather be dead...” whispered Draco.
With a snort, Voldemort shook his head amusedly. “I’m sure he would too. But he’s got no choice in the matter, I‘m afraid. I claimed him as my own, and marked him. There will be no turning back from this. He will be leaving with me shortly.”
Draco panicked and grasped Harry’s left arm. He looked it over fretfully, until his eyes zeroed in on the small tattoo of a coiled serpent on his upper arm, just below his shoulder. It wasn’t a Dark Mark, and was only the size of Draco’s thumb, but he shuddered. It sparkled as it came to life, hissing audibly back at the boy.
Voldemort laughed at Draco’s chilled reaction.
“Oh God, Harry, what have I done? I should have let you die... I’m so sorry,” cried Draco, unaware his words left his lips. He leaned over the sleeping boy and placed a soft, chaste kiss on his mouth.
Feeling something begin to pang in his heart, Voldemort turned his head away. Normally something so innocent would anger him, but guilt began to seep into his mind. He could feel it flow through his veins, making his lungs refuse to open for breath. He choked up on any words he might have wanted to say and let the room abruptly.
Draco watched him leave without a care. He returned his attention to Harry. If he could get him out of Hogwarts, he could get him out of Voldemort‘s grasp.
Ron sat uneasily in Dumbledore’s office. The aged headmaster stood over him, smiling warmly. “Now, Mr. Weasley, if you’ll kindly wait here, I’ll see if Harry is awake,”
Ron’s head began to swim. He couldn’t understand why Harry and Draco would be up in the headmaster’s chambers. A sudden alarm rang out in his head and he stood up in reaction. He needed to leave. He didn’t know why, but he needed to get out as quickly as possible.
“Going somewhere, Mr. Weasley? I cannot allow that!” roared Albus from behind him. Ron whirled around, wand in hand. The red flash of light soaring from the tip of Dumbledore’s wand hit him dead in the chest, and his widened, cornflower blue eyes snapped shut as he fell back to the floor.
Hermione and Blaise scampered down through the dungeon corridors and slid to a halt in front of Snape’s chambers. “Moonstruck!” cried Hermione. The door flew open, granting them entrance.
They gathered up all the ingredients they could find in his rooms, but were missing several more. With a sigh, Blaise sat heavily on a stool. “We have to get into his stores without Lupin seeing us,”
Hermione wasn’t as worried. “Professor Lupin is a good man. If we get caught, I’ll explain things to him.”
Blaise shook her head. “We can’t tell anyone!” she shouted.
“He’s different. He was Harry’s father’s best friend. He adores Harry like a son. He wouldn’t turn me in if he knew I was trying to help him... I’m only saying *if* we get caught. I don’t plan on telling him forthright.” she protested, and Blaise nodded in understanding.
Peter Pettigrew wiggled around in his chair as the tip of Snape’s wand twitched over him. “Fine, fine, get it over with, you slimy git!” he shouted nervously.
Snape complied, and cast the spell. His eyes lit up with glee as Wormtail began jerking around in his seat.
A chubby, sandy haired, 16 year old boy sat on a slab of concrete, knees pulled up to his chest, covering his nudity. He was crying loudly, wincing as each lash of a whip snapped across the back of one of his best friends. He looked up through red-rimmed eyes, hiccupping uncontrollably as a young Remus Lupin endured each lash in front of him.
*“Enjoying the show, Mr. Pettigrew? Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about you. We’ll let the werewolf watch you next.”*
Albus Dumbledore emerged from the shadow, whip in hand. He ran his long fingers across Remus’ jaw line and kissed him roughly as he yanked his head forward. Remus moaned pitifully in his arms. He bared his teeth viciously, but Albus took a step back before he could bite down.
*“Come taste this perfection, Mr. Pettigrew. He’s too delicious.”*
The whip cracked loudly, slashing Peter’s cheek open. He cried out in misery, but stood up, and scurried over in front of Remus. They exchanged sorrowful looks of sympathy, whimpering outright as Albus made Peter embrace the shackled boy.
Albus stood behind him, massaging both boys with his hands as they kissed. He sighed contently as the sweet vision of innocence was torn away from his pupils’ souls.
*“It’s not nearly as striking as watching Potter and Black, but you do make this old man feel wonderful inside.”*
Wormtail fell to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably in his arms.
“So it’s true,” said Lucius, “He’s got us all. He did this to all of us?”
“It appears so. In my vision, another was there. There was also mention of Sirius Black,” said Snape, sighing heavily, refusing to tell anyone he was forced to snog James Potter.
Wormtail stifled his sobbing for a moment. “Remus Lupin, too.” he whimpered in his arms.
“We need to get Lupin, then. He can get into Hogwarts undetected. Hell, he might already be there.” said Snape.
Lord Voldemort walked in into the room, gazing over all the saddened expressions surrounding him. “What happened?”
Lucius pointed down at Wormtail.” Him, too.” he murmured.
Voldemort ground his teeth in frustration. “Who else did that bloody bastard defile? Have all my Death Eaters been molested?!” he hissed out.
“Remus Lupin, James Potter, and Sirius Black, sir.” said Snape. “Most likely there are hundreds more. This seems to have been going on for ages.”
“Have that muggleborn girl test every fucking male in that school. We need as many allies as we can get inside there. I want Dumbledore’s head!” screeched Voldemort.
His cloak flared out as he turned on his heel, but he stopped in mid step. “I’m taking Potter to my home tonight. He’s recovered enough,” he said in a low voice, refusing to look at the shocked faces behind him.
Ron awoke groggily. His head felt as if it had been split in two. His eyes refused to focus, but he knew something wasn’t right. Cold air blushed over the bare skin of his chest. In a panic, he tried to sit up, but found his body wouldn’t move. He inhaled air deeply through his mouth, and exhaled it out with short, quick breaths.
“Awake, I see.” said Albus, standing over the petrified redhead. “Mr. Weasley, do you know how many times I’ve done this to you? I love telling you this. I love to watch your face when you realise I’ve been fucking you since you were 11 years old. Ah, another beautiful pureblood boy. Just like all of your brothers. So innocent and brave,”
Albus sat down on the cot next to Ron, and patted his thigh sweetly. “...and nosy. Now tell me, what do you know about Harry’s disappearance?”
“Nothing...” he lied.
“You might as well tell me. I’m going to figure it out anyways, even if I have to force it from you,” He held up a phial of Veritaserum between his thumb and forefinger, shaking it softly in front of Ron’s face.
Ron gathered as much saliva as he could into his mouth, and spit it forcefully into Albus’ face. “Then force it, you sick bastard!”
Albus smiled softly and wiped the spittle off of his half-moon spectacles. “You were always the brave Gryffindor. You always fight back, Mr. Weasley. You‘re just like most Gryffindors in that way, makes it all the more enjoyable.” he said.
Lord Voldemort walked heavily into the room, directly over to Harry’s bed. Draco looked up suspiciously, and wrapped his arms tighter around Harry.
“You are a Death Eater’s son. There should be no plausible reason for you to be cuddling The Boy Who Lived in his bed right now, or ever for that matter,” said Voldemort, giving off a small sneer to the younger Malfoy.
Draco’s eyes narrowed into slits, but he looked away. His grip over Harry only tightened with the words.
“Let go of him. Don’t make me hurt you,” he said flatly, holding his hand out towards the bed.
Draco shook his head defiantly.
Voldemort sighed. “Why are you acting so insolent? Hasn’t your father explained to you about who I am?” he asked, puffing his chest out boastfully.
Draco nodded dourly. “Can you at least wake him up so I can say good bye to him?” he asked softly.
“Yes,” replied Voldemort. He leaned in and ran his fingers over Harry’s eyes and hissed out a few words in parseltongue. He backed up a few paces and watched eagerly as he began to stir.
Draco pulled Harry’s face into his chest. He didn’t want him to see Voldemort. He didn’t know why, but he felt as if he should protect him again. “Can’t you wait outside? He’s going to be frightened. Let me explain it to him,” he begged.
Voldemort shook his head, but walked to the back of the room and leaned up against the wall.
Harry rubbed his cheek against Draco’s chest softly, soaking in the warmth. He froze up after a few seconds, and his eyes snapped open. He sat up, trembling fiercely, but Draco calmed him by pulling him back into his chest.
“Hush now. It’s going to be okay, Harry. What did I tell you? I told you I’d get us out of there,” he whispered.
He whimpered as Harry’s hands clasped together behind his back, hugging Draco back with all his strength.
“Thank you, Draco.” he said softly.
Draco rocked him in his lap, glancing back at Voldemort every few seconds in trepidation. “Of course I did. You should have seen me. I apparated us out of a place you can’t apparate out of. Guess I found my wild magic, too.” He giggled slightly, but it was forced. His face lost its smile, his breath turned heavy and his eyes looked frantic then.
“Listen to me,” he hissed in urgency against Harry’s ear.
“He’s here. He’s taking you away. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to do, I begged my father, but he said talking to him did nothing. He’s not going to kill you. He’s behind us, please stop struggling.” He held Harry tighter, feeling him try to wriggle away from his lap as his fear built. “I’ll get you out of there as fast as I can. I’ll offer anything. He’ll have to listen, or kill me to shut me up.”
Harry laboured his breathing. He couldn’t be certain about what Draco was rambling on about, but he was beginning to get the idea that it wasn’t about Albus Dumbledore any longer.
Voldemort studied the two boys as they clung to each other in desperation. His heart began to hurt again. He turned away and focused on cracks in the walls.
Harry shook his head slightly. “No. Don’t worry about me. This is my fate; I’ve known this for a long time now. Don’t get yourself into trouble over me, because I care about you, Draco.” he said, feeling burning tears well up in his eyes. His chin quivered, vibrating against Draco’s chest.
“I care about you, too.” cried Draco, pulling Harry in as close as possible. “I won’t let this happen if I can help it. I’ll do whatever I can to get you back.”
“Enough,” said Voldemort, pushing himself away from the wall.
Harry tensed up in Draco’s arms and began panting with fear. He knew that voice; the shrill, high pitched tone barreling over them. His eyes travelled around the room slowly, following the sounds of footsteps heading towards him. He felt Draco trembling over him, whimpering in his throat. Fingernails dug into his back as Draco held him tighter, but it was useless.
Standing over them, Voldemort reached out as Harry looked up at him stone-faced. Pale fingertips closed his eyelids for him, and he fell limp in Draco’s hands as the snake words were spoken again.
“Now, let him go, Draco,” said Voldemort sternly.
Draco screwed up his face in agony, but released his grip, letting Harry fall back into the mattress. He turned his head away as Voldemort lifted him from the bed. He couldn’t bear to watch.
Voldemort wrapped the white sheet around his upper body and carried him out like a lover, saying nothing as he left.
Draco couldn’t help but watch as his friend was carried off. His arm stuck out from the sheet at an odd angle behind Voldemort‘s upper arm. His bare feet swayed slightly with each step, giving him a look of death in the Dark Lord’s arms. Everything else was covered, including his face.
Draco wailed in his hands as they disappeared from his vision. This was his entire fault. They should have just died. Now Harry’s fate was worse than before.
“Do you really think it wise to remove the boy so quickly, sir?” asked Severus, following behind his former master in the long hallway. “He’s only just recovered physically from a week’s worth of torture,”
Voldemort stopped and looked back at him. “Don’t ever question my judgement, traitor. This boy here is mine now. I’ll do whatever I’d like to him and no one is going to stop me.” he chided.
Severus scanned over the bracelets on Harry’s ankles with a grim look. “I can only hope you make his suffering less severe than what we went through. He has gone through it as well.” he said, feeling his own heart swell up with pity, knowing Harry would endure only more torture and Voldemort was pure evil.
“My intentions with this boy are none of your concern-- so take your bleeding-heart speeches and practice them on someone who cares...” he growled deeply.
Snape arched an eyebrow and felt his wand hand twitch over his robe pocket as he watched Voldemort carry his pupil off to the fireplace.
Lucius walked up then and rested his hand over Snape’s. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he warned carefully. “Why would you even think about it? You’d be dead before it left your pocket, Snape.”
Severus growled deeply. “I’m not evil like you, Lucius. I can’t sit back and watch that madman take that child away, even if I despise the poor lad. It’s not in my nature. It never has been, no matter how I present myself.”
They could both hear Draco’s loud cries echoing through the halls, tearing at their very souls with its sadness. “I tried speaking with him about it. He refused to listen,” protested Lucius.
He fidgeted around, feeling Snape’s eyes boring down upon him. Draco’s cries seemed to grow louder, and a painful swelling in his chest constricted his throat. “Maybe... we could ask him nicely?”
They both broke off into a run as their guilt overcame them both. They darted into the sitting room, but Voldemort and Harry were gone.