Summer 8:   Part B

     

“Now, my sweet boy, I want you to count every lash and I don’t want you to hold back any of those pretty tears.”

Severus rolled his eyes as he watched the scene unfolding in front of him.  Lucius always had been one for dramatics.  The dark haired boy on the floor looked up at Lucius with bright green eyes, imploring him not to do it.   Whipping was one of the only things that could still make the boy beg.  It was too bad for him that Lucius had all but outright bought him.  The brothel owner had been eager to find a place to hide his Harry Potter look-a-like.  Apparently, he had come to the realization that with the ministry cracking down on all illegal and illicit businesses, it would look very bad for him if they were to discover that not only did he run a brothel, but he ran one that encouraged the debauchery of the Boy-Who-Lived.

“Please, master Lucius, please, do… ah!”  The whip struck his back.  His head fell forward onto the rug and his eyes closed tightly as he sobbed.  “O… One.”

Discreetly, Severus crossed his legs and pretended to be interested in the scene unfolding before him.  In truth, he was far more curious as to what Lucius was planning, which was the only reason he had bothered to come at all.  If he could get his old friend in a good mood, perhaps he could catch a hint of something.

“Really, Lucius, there must be much more gratifying things that can be done with the child other than scarring his back.”

“Oh, Severus,” Lucius threw his friend a haunted smile and brought the whip down again.

“T… Two!”

“You know I always make sure not to leave any scars.”

Since his return from Azkaban, Severus noticed a great change in Lucius.  Where the man had once been an absolute artist in these matters, he now appeared to enjoy only the most brutal, damaging aspects of torture.  At least, he did where one dark haired little whore was involved.

“Besides,” Lucius brought it down again and Severus just managed to hold back his cringe at the boy’s stuttering cries, “it’s good practice.”

There was a hint behind that, Severus could almost smell it.   “Practice for what, Lucius?”

Lucius stroked the whip handle down the boy’s back, delighting as the child’s back shuddered under it.  “Now, now, Severus, you know I can’t tell you that.  Let’s just say that in a few short weeks I won’t need this sorry substitute.”

Severus caught a glimpse of resentment in the boy’s eyes.   It was unfortunately inevitable.  He hadn’t known anything other than these men for years.   Severus doubted he even remembered what his parents looked like or his own name anymore.  It was bound to become a sore point when he was reminded that he wasn’t even what they really wanted.

What Lucius had said, however, that he wouldn’t need a substitute, had made Severus’s blood run cold.  Voldemort had a plan to capture Potter and when he had him, he intended to hand him over to Lucius.  Even for a small period of time, that would be… bad.

Lucius brought down the whip again and the boy’s eyes jerked open in surprise.  “F… our.”

With another of his haunted smiled, Lucius knelt down and put a finger under the boy’s chin, drawing his face up so that he could see into his eyes.  “Just wait, Severus.  I’m going to make that little brat pay.”

No, Severus did not envy Harry Potter if Lucius ever got his hands on him.

 

 

_______________

 

One week later:

“Boy!”

Harry rolled his eyes and continued to stare at his ceiling, not bothering to answer.  He’d been there only a week and in some ways it was like he’d never left.  Either Vernon Dursley knew that Dumbledore was dead, or he was abysmally stupid.

“Boy!”

Then again, maybe he just didn’t care, maybe he thought that someone would come spirit him away again.  Getting off his bed, he pressed his face to the door to his bedroom,  “What?!”

“Get down here.”

Dropping his head, he took a deep breath and yelled back,  “The door is locked!”

A moment later the lock clicked open and the Harry found himself staring at his horse necked aunt.  “Downstairs now.”

Harry smiled sarcastically and charged down the stairs.  The last time his uncle had called him down, it was to blame the broken television on him.  The time before that it was to tell him to weed the backyard, after which he had been yelled at for ruining the rose bushes.

“What do you bloody well waaa…”  He couldn’t quite finish the word, but he couldn’t get his mouth to stop moving, either.  Standing, no leaning in the doorway with a wand extended in a trembling hand was a young man with platinum blond hair and pained gray eyes.  Draco.   What was Draco doing on Privet Drive?

Draco’s eyes looked up as Harry stopped on the stairs and his deep sneer lifted into a half smile.  “Harry.”   He’d barely whispered it, but somehow Harry could hear the strain of it on his throat.

Before Harry could say anything, Draco’s wand slipped from his fingers and his eyes rolled into his head.  Harry jumped down the last three steps and grabbing Draco as he slumped, unconscious, onto the floor.

“Draco?”  Harry ignored his uncle’s blustering in favor of looking over his lover.  He was pale, too pale and his hands were shaking, even in unconsciousness.   Looking at Draco’s neck, he saw a pale pink line, as if something thin had been wrapped around it.  Not good, none of this was good, but how had Draco found him?

Gently, he slipped his arm under Draco’s knees and grunted as he lifted him.  Harry hadn’t eaten anything in nearly twenty-four hours and Draco was by no means a feather weight.

He’d taken one step away from the door when a hand fell on his shoulder, stopping him.  “Where do you think you’re going?  Get him out of here this instant.”

Harry grit his teeth, “He’s hurt.”

“I don’t give a bloody hell if he’s dying, get him out of my home.”

Harry felt anger welling up in his throat, but he had to swallow it down.  It wouldn’t do to lose his temper now, he had to get Draco upstairs on a bed so he could look at him.   “I’m taking him upstairs and I’m going to find out what’s wrong with him.”

The hand on his shoulder tightened and Harry winced as the fingers dug into him.  “I said get him out.  Call one of your little friends if you have to, but he is not staying here.”

“I can’t call anyone because you made me send Hedwig away.   If you hadn’t been such a bloody prick, I’d be…”

A hand slammed into his face, but Harry had seen it coming and managed not to drop Draco, though he did stumble several steps.  Glaring at his Uncle, he straightened himself.  “Thank you, Uncle Vernon.”

Something in his tone must have stunned his relatives, because no one stopped him as he carried Draco up the stairs and into his room, depositing him carefully on the bed.  He dug his wand out from under his pillow and cast a locking charm on the door just as Uncle Vernon began trying to force it open.  Screw the Ministry, he’d have to use magic to help Draco anyway.

The shaking had stopped, but the moment that Harry touched him, just a light stroke of a finger over his waxen face, it started again, violently.   God, what was wrong with him?  As gently as he could manage, Harry unbuttoned the cloak and pulled it aside.

Draco’s jumper was torn at the arms, like someone had ripped them and the knees of his trousers were shredded, his exposed knees bloody.  Harry waved his wand at the door and heard his relatives shriek as a large bowl leapt from the cupboard downstairs, filling itself in the sink before joining two dishtowels to make its way up the stairs and coming through the door that opened just long enough to let them in and closing tightly, locking again before Vernon, who had been too shocked by the floating bowls and magically opening door to move, had had a chance to get in.  The second they had landed at Harry’s side, he grabbed the towel and wet it, gently blotting it against Draco’s knees to wipe up the worst of the blood.  The other towel wet and folded itself, setting on Draco’s forehead.  The shaking slowed and eventually stopped, much to Harry’s relief.

He thought maybe he knew what it was, but he hoped he was wrong.  After the Triwizard Tournament, Harry remembered that his nerves had been so raw from the Cruciatus curse that if he didn’t actively pay attention to it, he’d start shaking.

Draco mumbled something under his breath, but Harry couldn’t understand it.  Carefully, he removed Draco’s cloak and his jumper.  His arms were bruised and there were crescent shaped cuts on them.  He looked at the delicate hands and saw that at least one nail had broken off; the others had blood under them.

“Harry.”  Harry looked up sharply and saw Draco’s eyes open, looking at him with a dull expression.

Harry forced himself to smile, even though he knew that it looked more like a grimace.  “How are you feeling?”

“Like someone poured liquid fire through my veins.”

Definitely the Cruciatus.  “What happened?”

Draco shook his head, “I failed him.  He punished me.  Father took me home.  I don’t remember, but I managed to get away.  House elves gave me something. ‘M tired.”  His eyes closed again.

He wasn’t exactly sure how Draco had managed to find him, but he didn’t really have time for that at the moment.  The first thing he had to do was find out what they had given him.  Was it poison or was it potion and if that was the case, it could be anything.  In fact, this whole thing could be some kind of trap or it could be another way of torturing him by giving him Draco so that he could watch him die.  “Draco, come on, not yet, what’d they give you?  Draco, what did the house elves give you?”

Draco’s closed eyes furrowed.  “Something... purple. Made me cold, tasted funny, like… like chocolate and earwax.  Said it would make me groggy.”

Purple, made him cold, tasted like chocolate and earwax.  Harry sat back on the floor in relief and let Draco fall back into a fitful sleep.  He knew that potion, it was the same thing Madame Pomfrey had given him to help repair whatever damage the Cruciatus curse had done to his nerves.

Closing his eyes as well, Harry rested his head on the bed next to Draco’s hand and took deep breaths, battling against the warring sides of his brain.   He’d been so worried about Draco ever since he’d watched that traitorous bastard drag him off.  He’d been terrified that Voldemort would torture him, or kill him, or worse, use him to get to Harry, because Harry had known without a doubt that he would walk willingly into that trap if it would spare Draco anything.

His uncle was still banging on his door and Harry lazily cast a silencing charm in its direction.  Until now, he’d been too concerned with Draco to even notice it, really, but Draco was safe now.  He was hurt, but he was safe.  That was all that mattered.

______________

 

 

“Harry!” 

Harry thought he heard someone calling his name, but he couldn’t respond. He was staring at Dumbledore’s dead body and there couldn’t be anything more important than that.

“Harry!”

Well, nothing more important except maybe Draco who was standing next to Snape, too afraid to move away from the traitorous bastard.  Draco who was supposed to love him, not keep this kind of thing from him.

“Harry!”

Something cold hit his head and Harry’s jerked up sharply, his eyes wide and dull.  “Wha…”   Slowly, the focus came back to them and he saw Draco sitting up on the bed, looking down at him with a mix of concern and annoyance.   “I’ve been trying to wake you for the past five minutes.”

Before Draco could say anything else, Harry practically dove at him, pressing him back against the bed with urgent gentleness.  “Oh, god…”  Harry saw Draco wince and nearly winced himself.  “Are you okay?   I was really worried.  You were so hurt and I didn’t know what to do, I…”

Draco chuckled, albeit with more than a little pain behind the gesture.  “Harry, it’s okay, I’m about as good as I can be, considering.”

With a shaky smile of his own, Harry sat up and stretched, groaning.  “Do you want… well, all I have is water, really.  At least, until we can get a hold of someone, or until the Dursley’s decide to be generous.”  Harry scoffed at the mere idea and started to stand up, wincing as his ankles popped and the feeling started to return to his feet.

“Water would be good.”

Harry nodded and went to the door, dropping the silencing charm and putting his ear to it for a moment before turning the handle and opening it.  The hall outside was pitch black and Harry thanked whatever there was left to thank in the world that the Dursley’s had apparently gone to sleep for the night.  He looked back, his smile more confident.   “I’ll be right back.”

He crept down the stairs and into the kitchen, quickly filling a glass with water before heading back up the stairs.  He cringed at every creek on the stairs, but his relatives were fast asleep and didn’t come to intercept him as he slipped back into his room, closing the door behind him.

“Here, drink up; I’ll go get more if I need to.”

Draco shook his head, taking a few sips, before setting the glass down. “I’m still tired.”

“It’s the potion.  It makes you sleep while it works.  To be honest, I didn’t expect you to wake up for another few hours at least.”

“My head does feel a bit heavy.” Draco laid back down on the pillow, looking at Harry sleepily.  With a possessive gesture, Draco wrapped one of his hands around Harry’s wrist.  “Don’t go, okay?”

“Get some sleep, Draco, I’m not going anywhere.”

-tbc-