Repost: Draco's Folly (NC-17, H/D), post 4 of 4
Title: Draco's Folly, Part 13-16 of 16
Author: ravenna_c_tan
Rating: NC-17
Prompt Set: 50.1 from the 100quills fest
Word Count: about 9900 for this post
Pairings: Harry/Draco, Draco/Hermione, Draco/others (suppressed for spoilers)
Warnings: This is a very dark-themed fic. It contains power games, dubious consent, non-con, rape, public sex used as humiliation, murder attempts and violence, Unforgivable Curses (as well as consensual BDSM, bondage, and occasional bouts of vanilla sex).
Disclaimer: I wrote this fanfic for completely non-commercial enjoyment. All characters are not mine and are copyrighted and trademarked by their owners/publishers.
Beta-readers: jordangrant, strickens_girl, and kyuuketsukirui
Summary: Draco Malfoy has earned a place among the Death Eaters as Voldemort's very "special" inquisitor, using his erotic talents to wring information from Aurors and to torture prisoners in his own way. But nothing is simple in the service of the Dark Lord and Draco is caught between a death-wish and the desires of others.
Notes: The idea for this story spawned as a result of jordangrant's story "Famous Last Words" from the hp_cliche fest, which posited "Draco as erotic torturer for Voldemort." I immediately thought that this was such a good idea, it should become a new cliche. (Thus far, though, I think I may be the only other fic-writer to pick up the theme.)
Additional Warning: Dark. Very dark. Although people may fall in love, it is not romance. Almost the entire thing takes place in Voldemort's dungeons, just to give you an idea. Also, a very high smut-to-words ratio.





Part Thirteen: Too Much
(3073)

Draco stared bleary-eyed at the lavender solution in the cauldron as he turned the glass stirring rod fifty times, widdershins. The potion was nearly done when he felt the slow burn of the Dark Mark shiver up his arm. Thankfully he was stirring with his other hand--forty seven, forty eight, forty nine, fifty!--and he did not have to start again from the beginning. He doused the flame and left the contents to cool, the color darkening as it did so. Midnight was an auspicious time to finish a potion and he had every expectation of success.

He took off the frayed outer robe he had been wearing to protect against spills and splashes and hung it on a hook. He had been expecting the summons, of course, but when he Apparated to the antechamber, he was surprised to find no one, not even Pettigrew there. Not time for a conclave, then. He took a hesitant step into the larger room.

The Dark Lord sat upon the large carven chair on the dais, his back straight and his eyes glinting in the firelight. As Draco came further into the room a few more torches flared to life.

"My lord? You wished to see me?" Draco kept his face impassive, knowing better than to show apprehension. Instead he glanced left and right, hoping to see Snape, or even Wormtail.

It appeared they were alone. "Yes, Draco. I wish to see you." The Dark Lord beckoned him closer. "Tell me, how are your charges doing?"

Draco stood in front of him, his hands folded as he mustered as much dignity and hauteur as he could. "Quite well. Potter and Granger have both been completely tractable. As for Lucius, I've decided it is time to turn to an antidote."

"Hmm, yes, his incarceration is dragging on."

They might have been discussing the weather in Whitby. "If you would like him to resume his regular duties, my lord, I can administer it tomorrow and have him back on his feet by the day after. As we discussed earlier, I predict his efficacy might suffer if we leave him in his current state."

The Dark Lord's laugh was low and bitter. "Quite. And yours, too, I would imagine. Give him the potion, and when he is well, he may be released."

"As you wish." Draco gave a slight bow.

"Now, as to the other matter I need to speak to you about." The Dark Lord stood from his chair and took a step toward Draco, who knew better than to back up. "Tomorrow is the blood moon."

"Indeed? I had not been keeping track of the days."

Snake-like eyes glittered as the Dark Lord smiled. "Yes. A very auspicious occasion for blood magics of various kinds. Sex magics, as well. And it has been some time since..." The pause came as he raked his long fingers through Draco's hair. "...since you provided us with proper entertainment."

Draco's voice came out remarkably calm, given that this was the first time his lord and master had touched him this way. "What did you have in mind?"

The Dark Lord began to walk in a tight circle around Draco. "Potter and the Mudblood. They are friends, yes?"

"Yes, since Hogwarts."

"Were they ever more than friends?"

"I doubt it." Draco kept his eyes on the empty chair. "She was a virgin when I first took her."

"Excellent. It is high time for one of your tableaus. I should like to see it feature the two of them." The Dark Lord now stood in front of Draco. "And you as well, of course." Again the hand carded Draco's hair, and Draco felt certain that this time the Dark Lord was going to go further. Any moment now he was going to tell Draco the time had come to service him directly.

But then he stepped back, returning to the chair. "I have always been pleased with your creations, and I am sure this one will be no different. A little blood would help work the magic, though. I am sure that will not constrain your creative license overmuch?"

"Not at all, my lord."

"Excellent. The eclipse is set to begin at 9:45. I shall see you and your pets then."

Draco bowed and then walked stiffly from the room. He did not Apparate. Instead he walked all the way back to his own room, shut and warded the door, and then threw himself down on his bed, still shod.

You knew something like this was coming, he told himself. He had even told Harry as much. They were to be a sacrifice under the blood moon and Draco was going to take part. A little blood. Sure.

He would have to put them both under Imperius. But Harry, Harry could throw it off, couldn't he? How was he going to convince him to go along with things? Maybe it would be best if Harry were bound...

Draco gave a scream of frustration into his pillow. No. This wasn't going to happen. He wasn't going to do this. He couldn't parade Harry and Hermione in front of the entire host of Death Eaters. Sure, they'd all seen his own naked arse plenty of times--it was one of the reasons he used to have to fend off inappropriate advances before the tales of his hexing ability got around. (Only one well-placed Globoputrido was all it took. No one wanted to risk their balls rotting off after that.)

And yet, there was no way around it. If he refused, he would simply end up a sacrifice himself.

His thoughts were stuck at that point for the next hour, as he made his way back to the potions lab, bottled and stoppered the antidote for Lucius, and cleaned up his materials. He was still thinking that his only choices were to go through with it or to let himself be killed along with them when his eye fell upon a blue crystal-cut bottle at the back of the cupboard.

Concentrate of hellebore, bottled as a syrup. Draco pulled the bottle gingerly from the back of the shelf and held it up to the light. Nearly full.

More than enough to send an adult wizard to the afterlife painlessly, and noiselessly. Harry and Hermione would still die--Snape would have to do what Draco could not. But at least Draco would not be there to suffer through it.

He rubbed his thumb over the facets of the blue bottle. What would it taste like? Draco's breathing went shallow. He sat down on a stool and wondered if Snape would be the one to find him if he drank it right here. Probably.

He heard Hermione's voice in his head then. As long as Harry is alive, there is hope.

Draco suppressed a moan. He had been so wrapped up in his own misery before he hadn't thought about what that might mean. Now, though, it seemed obvious to him. They would still try to kill Voldemort any chance they got. Harry himself would try it.

Draco's heart began to thump in his chest. He could give Potter that chance. Let his wand slip from his hand at just the right moment, maybe. Potter would take any chance he could. Draco was sure of that.

He'd go to Harry first thing in the morning. He wouldn't be able to tell him outright, but he would think of something. Draco slid the blue bottle back into the cupboard. Now he had plans to make.

***

He brought Harry breakfast, a bit more meager than usual now that the house elves had a full house of Death Eaters to feed. There were probably over a hundred of the Dark Lord's followers in the keep now, with others arriving all the time. They were underfoot everywhere, even in the dungeon, where a group of half a dozen stood staring into cell one. The Carrows, the elder Goyle, a few others he didn't recall the names of. There were a few murmurs from them as they saw Draco approach, anticipating some entertainment.

He said nothing to them before Apparating into the cell. Harry was awake, but chained as he was, not moving. Draco set the tray on the floor as usual and stood with his back to the window. What could he say that wouldn't be incriminating? He raised his wand, concentrating hard, then banishing Harry's chains at the same moment he reversed the window charm.

Harry's eyes flicked toward the wall, where he could now see the eager faces of the Death Eaters outside, but that was the only indication he gave that Draco had cast the spell. Good.

"It's all toast and jam today," Draco said, sitting on the floor with his robes pooling around him. "It's a full house and the elves are having a hard time keeping up. It's the blood moon, tonight."

Harry nodded, taking a bite of toast and sitting cross-legged next to Draco, his back also to the window. "So, it's time."

Draco nodded, unable to lift his eyes. They sat in silence while Harry ate, and then Draco felt Harry's hand touch his, hidden by the folds of his robes.

There really was nothing they could say. Harry squeezed Draco's hand. Draco squeezed back. He wished there were something he could think of to tell Harry, something that only Harry would understand and that the Death Eaters gloating outside would miss. But he could not think of anything. He could not think. He held tight to Harry's hand and swallowed hard.

He finally spoke, quietly. "I remember what you said. I'll come for you tonight."

And with that he stood. He did not want to go back out into the corridor, where they would pepper him with questions and taunts. The antidote for Lucius was in his robe pocket. None of them had ventured that far down into the dungeon; Potter had caught their attention entirely. The best course of action would be to just Apparate to Lucius' cell directly. He really did not want an audience to that confrontation.

He felt the bottle in his pocket. It fit smoothly into the palm of his hand. He held his wand in the other and concentrated.

There was the moment of compression, of blindness, and then everything opened out into the small cell. Draco blinked in that first moment; Lucius was not there. In the second moment, as he turned to look, he realized his father must be behind him.

That was the same moment something struck him hard on the side of the head and he fell in a heap to the floor. Then came a crushing pain as Lucius brought the loose stone down on his hand. Draco's wand clattered away and he curled his arm to his chest, hiding his face from the next blow.

Lucius stood then, fingering Draco's wand as if it were the most precious thing in the world. His hair looked brittle and his skin sallow, but his eyes were bright.

I should have moved him to a higher security cell, Draco thought. I should have expected something like this.

"Good morning, my son," Lucius said. "I rather think that if I am going to continue to be dependent on you, that I would like to change the terms."

Draco held out the antidote. "I was bringing you this."

"Poison, no doubt."

"No. It will scourge the bonding agents from your system." Draco wondered how many bones in his hand were broken. "The Dark Lord's orders."

"Indeed? Then I take it our little charade is over?" Lucius sat on the pallet and crossed his legs, a pose Draco had often used himself when toying with a captive.

Draco nodded, unable to look into Lucius' face.

"Are the effects instantaneous?" Lucius shook the bottle gently.

"No. It will take a full day to run its course." Draco struggled to a sitting position.

"I see." Lucius set the bottle on the floor and tapped Draco's wand against his chin. "I had best... satisfy my craving now, then." He flicked the wand and Draco felt his legs go numb. Lucius then levitated him onto the pallet. Thin cords flew from the wand tip and bound him, spread-eagled, to the corners. The thought went through his mind--who had learned that one first, Snape or Lucius?--even as he struggled.

The next flourish of the wand banished his clothes and even with his legs numbed, Draco began to tremble.

"There, there, now," Lucius said, stroking his bare thigh in mock comfort. "I'm not hurting you. I'm just trying to get what I need." He rolled the loose skin of Draco's balls in his fingers, then tugged on Draco's penis, burying the soft head between his large, warm palms.

Draco whimpered. His cock remained shriveled and Lucius did not let up manipulating him.

"What's the matter, my son? You don't respond to your father's touch?" Lucius put a finger into his mouth and sucked it, mock seductively. Then he swirled the wet tip at the pucker of Draco's arse. "Is this what you need?"

He slid the finger in and fished around roughly for Draco's prostate. Draco closed his eyes and clenched his teeth.

Lucius was merciless. As expected. Draco's voice, when he spoke, was strained. "I... there's a charm for that."

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "And you would presume to teach me? Impudent whelp. I know more sex magic than you can imagine." He took up Draco's wand, waved it lazily in Draco's direction.

Draco felt as if his nipples were on fire. He looked down and saw his chest swell until he had two small but feminine-looking breasts. Lucius shifted to sit next to Draco's head and then bent down to lick and suck.

Draco gasped. His nipples were always sensitive but this was a new sensation, sending shocks up and down his torso as Lucius held one nipple gingerly in his teeth and flicked his tongue over it. Draco's cock stirred a little, but not much.

"Hmm." Lucius returned to his position between Draco's legs, and the swells of Draco's breasts returned to normal. He touched the wand tip to the head of Draco's penis, which sprang to life instantly. Draco grunted--he was so hard it was painful--and he cried out when Lucius gave his balls a squeeze.

"Can you imagine what it has been like for me?" Lucius said, pausing every few words as he licked the red, straining head of Draco's cock like an ice cream cone. "When I sleep, I dream about your cock. When I am awake, my mouth waters while I think about it. My stomach growls, my head pounds, and I know the only source of relief is this appendage of yours." He ran his cheek along the silken flesh. "I've fantasized about imprisoning you, removing your arms and legs, keeping you locked in a box where the only part of you that would see the open air would be this." He closed his mouth over the head then and made a sound of pleasure deep in his throat. He sucked, his lips rippling, and then he pulled back to speak again. "If I did that--imprisoned you, I mean--you could even father an heir. That is assuming I didn't just do so myself." And then he fell on Draco's cock in earnest.

Draco had never wanted to come more in his life, and yet of course he was as far from it as he could imagine. Lucius' mouth was skilled as always, and the finger that insinuated itself deep into Draco's insides was now fucking him slickly. He tried to even his breathing, to concentrate, to cast Stimulus wandlessly, but it was to no avail. For all he knew, the erection charm Lucius had used could only be released by another spell.

So he endured. His head hurt where Lucius had clubbed him with the stone and his hand throbbed. When he did finally come, as a result of another of Lucius' charms, it was without pleasure or even much sense of relief. The bonds went loose and he tried to sit up, but his legs were still numb.

Lucius stood over him with his wand in his hand. He had a little come in the corner of his mouth but did not seem to know or care. He smiled and held the wand up in his fist.

Before Draco could react, the wand had transfigured into a cane, and the brass end of it had clipped him on the chin. No! No! he was thinking, or maybe screaming, as he fell back. The next blow came across his face, catching him on the temple. No!

Lucius was laughing. Draco could hear the cane whiz through the air as Lucius drew it back to strike him again.

He curled himself into a ball and Apparated blindly.

When he appeared, he kept his head tucked between his arms until he heard a familiar voice. "Draco!"

And then Harry was there, hands on his shoulders, helping him to sit up. "Who did this to you?"

But Draco couldn't answer. Could only huddle against Harry's chest, crying. The Death Eaters outside were surely watching, but he didn't care. The feeling of safety was an illusion. It always was, but he clung to it for a few moments, a few moments while Harry stroked his hair and kissed the parts of his head that didn't hurt.

Harry whispered in his ear. "Who. Did. This."

"Lucius."

And that was all he had time to say before several more figures appeared in the room.

His father's voice rang out. "There he is, the little traitor."

Rough hands were hauling him up then. He felt Harry try to fight, then fall away, either stupefied or petrified, he wasn't sure which, and he bit the hand of the man on his right, who smashed him across the face. Draco felt blood drip from his lip as he hung in their grip. He looked up through his hair--Lucius was fully robed, holding what looked like his own mahogany wand in his hand.

He stood in front of Draco, putting his own wand away and pulling the white, slender ash of Draco's wand from his inner pocket. He held it between tense fingers, then braced both thumbs against it and snapped it in two. He let the pieces fall to the floor.

Draco tried to lunge for him, but one of the others was too quick. The flash of red light that caught Draco full in the face was a stunning spell for sure, and he knew no more.





Part Fourteen: Regret
(2169)
When Draco came to, he was lying naked on a hard surface, one arm and his hair covering his eyes. He tried to move his arm and felt as though he were under water, as if the pressure of a giant hand were pressing down on him from above. He rolled slowly onto his back. Above him, torchlight flickered off a high ceiling. The "throne room" then. He could hear the rustle and murmur of a large group of people, but he could not lift his head to try to look at them. Whatever the spell was that held him down, it let him breathe and move a little, but it was too much effort to sit up.

He turned his head and saw Harry and Hermione, sitting together in what looked for all the world like an oversized birdcage. A Death Eater stood to either side of the cage, wand in hand, eyes alert and searching the crowd.

Draco turned his head the other direction and now he could see the throng of Death Eaters, a hundred strong, with a few others mixed in--new supporters? Draco could see a few non-black robes here and there. Wives and family, perhaps. At the front edge of the throng, speaking to no one, stood Snape.

As if he could feel Draco's eyes on him, Snape looked up, his expression slipping for just a moment into a twist of pure pity. Then he looked away.

Draco ran his hands against the surface he lay on. It felt like marble--some smooth, polished stone. He could not feel the edge, but he did find a groove on either side of him, carved into the stone. A gutter for the blood.

Draco closed his eyes and wished for unconsciousness once again. Instead, there was a burst of light somewhere toward his feet where he could not see, and the crowd began to cheer.

Lucius hove into view, the smile on his face unsuppressed as he ran his leather-gloved hand up Draco's naked thigh. The Dark Lord had begun some sort of speech, but through the suppression charm that held him in place, Draco could barely make out the words. If he concentrated it was like listening underwater. Something about blood magic, about pure blood.

Lucius touched Draco's ear with his fingers and suddenly the sound became clear. "...thank the Malfoys for their unwavering service to me. How glorious an opportunity this is, for blood to call to blood, for the rare sacrifice that dear Lucius has granted me, through the ancient and powerful blood magic of filicide."

There was a cheering and a roar of applause. Draco swallowed. So, everything he had imagined last night, when contemplating the hellebore, would come to pass. Lucius really would sacrifice him to solidify his power. There would be no chance to slip his wand--now broken--to Harry. And regardless what he might have once thought, being killed by his father was not an improvement over being killed by Voldemort. Not given the predatory way Lucius was looking at him right now.

"Yes, it is fitting; one might almost call it fate," rang the voice that was once Tom Riddle's. "Harry Potter, who stands witness to this triumph and who will die before the sun rises, he who has opposed me at every turn. He has been protected throughout his life by an old magic as well, the sacrifice of a mother for her son, her life to save his. I unraveled that skein years ago, when I returned, using the Potter boy's blood myself. Now fate has delivered me the perfect bookend to that tale, as a son shall die at his own father's hand to give me power immeasurable."

The speech continued, but Lucius spoke to Draco himself now. "It was a test, as I thought all along. Our lord wanted to find out which of us would prevail? You could never win against me, though, Draco. You should have killed me when you had the chance." Then he withdrew his hand from Draco's ear and the words were once again muffled by the suppression spell.

As long as Harry is alive, there is hope. Draco repeated those words to himself, but they seemed to have lost their meaning. He remembered the feeling of that crystal-cut bottle in his hand. What did hellebore taste like?

These thoughts were interrupted by Lucius, who floated up onto the marble slab, his robes shed and his cock rampant. He had his wand in his hand. Draco wished it were a knife--that at least would have meant it would be over quickly. But Lucius dispelled that hope as well.

"You promised our lord some entertainment," Lucius said, with two flicks of his wand. The suppression spell dissipated as another spell washed over him. Draco stiffened in surprise at the familiar spell--a charm he often used, similar to Stimulus called Sensus. The problem with Sensus was that it was easy to overstimulate the nerves and it didn't only work on the sense of touch. All his senses were heightened. He could feel air currents on his skin. He could hear Harry's voice, saying something to Hermione, twenty yards away. He could smell the soap Lucius had used recently.

Lucius pinched a nipple and Draco cried out. Pain was heightened, as well, so sharp that Draco could not draw a breath until Lucius let go. Maybe I'll beg him to kill me, Draco thought, as he gasped. Perhaps that's what he wants.

Another flick of Lucius' wand, as he said "Ludibrio," and a new spell took hold. Draco went limp. With his heightened senses the coolness of the marble under his cheek contrasted with the heat coming off of Lucius' body. Then Lucius waved his wand and Draco felt himself moving. It wasn't like Imperius--this charm was purely physical. He could still move his eyes, his mouth, but his limbs were loose like a puppet's.

That was it, of course. Lucius had literally turned him into a puppet. He slid to his knees under the power of the spell, hands hanging at his sides his head rolled forward.

Lucius' cock nudged at his lips. There was no choice to be made. Draco opened his mouth.

He did not have to do much more, as Lucius was intent on punishing him with his cock. No technique was necessary when Lucius merely rammed as deep as he could go. Instead of participating in the rape of his mouth, Draco listened to the voices he could hear. Aunt Bellatrix, talking with Snape, her laugh edged with madness. Snape, cutting her down with a comment and moving away from her.

Hermione, crying. And explaining at the same time. She was telling Harry about the ritual, about how Lucius would draw Draco's power out with his blood, presumably passing it on to the Dark Lord. He heard no reply from Harry.

Lucius pulled away and Draco again fell limp against the stone, his head aching where it hit. He hit his chin too, when the next spell flipped him onto his stomach.

Of course there would be buggering involved. Even with his senses augmented by the spell, Draco let his mind drift, pushing the pain of Lucius entering him far away, pushing the scream that tore from his lips into a distant place on the other side of the sensory overload. Lucius' nails on his back felt like knives tearing open his skin, and yet he felt no trickle of blood so he doubted his father had actually transfigured his nails into claws.

He wondered if Harry would like that, the scratch of nails down his back. He'd never get a chance to find out. Now he could hear Harry's voice, asking Hermione "what are we waiting for?" Her shushing him.

When Lucius pulled his cock free of Draco's arse, Draco hoped for a moment that killing him might be next. But he knew Lucius had not come and that hope--like security, and maybe even love--was a false emotion, and that a quick death was not in the offing.

Lucius rolled him onto his back and muttered something to him about sex magic and charms, some kind of gloating that Draco couldn't make out through the haze of pain. He heard the incantation clearly, though, like a bell ringing, "Feminoris," as Lucius placed his wand tip against Draco's thigh.

The wand sank into Draco's flesh like a knife into Madeira cake and Draco gasped. Lucius' finger came next, stroking the skin of Draco's leg and then plunging into the newly-made orifice. Draco cried out, the penetration sending shockwaves through his body. Pain, something tearing...

Lucius withdrew the finger then and held it up, bloody. "How unfortunate that blood is the only appropriate body fluid your body can muster to lubricate your new, virgin hole," Lucius said as he straddled Draco's leg with his and pushed his cock downward.

Draco struggled, inside, but his muscles would not respond as he tried to writhe, to thrash, to do anything to relieve the horrible sensation of Lucius' cock sliding into his flesh. Places deep inside him clenched as if it were a real vagina Lucius fucked now. All he could do was scream until his throat was raw, and even then Lucius clamped a hand over his mouth as he fucked harder.

Lucius made another hole on Draco's other leg, thrust two fingers into it, and Draco resumed screaming. Was it possible to feel one's magic draining away? Lucius seemed to be glowing, or maybe that was just the torchlight in his hair.

The third hole Lucius placed between Draco's legs, under his balls, and he puppeted his son's body up with the motion of his wand, gripping him by the hips and slamming him down onto his engorged prick. Draco could not even scream, the pain was so intense. And no, it was not the light; Lucius was glowing. He was taking Draco's power even as he was taking his life.

"I want to see him struggle." A voice, very close, made Draco open his eyes, and there was the Dark Lord himself at the edge of the altar.

"As you wish," Lucius replied, and control returned to Draco's arms and legs. But overwhelmed as he was, he could do little more than cling to Lucius, who quickly had him on his back, fucking him with one hand in the leg, his cock still in the deep central cleft.

Draco looked over to see the Dark Lord's hand skimming his bloodied thigh tentatively, then one slender index finger worked its way inside. "You were always such a thing of beauty, Draco," came the Dark Lord's voice. "But we exist to destroy beauty." Draco wasn't sure when he had started crying. He was bleeding freely from each hole now and some part of him wondered if his tears wouldn't come out bloody as well.

He searched the room with his ears again. Anything to draw his mind away from what was happening to his body. Snape was talking to one of the men guarding Harry and Hermione--apparently the man was about to be sick.

He was sick.

Then Lucius locked eyes with his Master, and he nodded. Draco was now between the two men, Lucius on his knees, Draco in his lap, and the Dark Lord standing on the bloody slab. Lucius impaled Draco again, this time from behind, and Draco thought, oh, I'm to suck the Dark Lord's cock now...

But he was wrong. Lucius spoke the incantation once more, placing the tip of his wand on Draco's chest, over his heart. The new orifice blossomed and Draco squeezed his eyes closed. He felt Voldemort's hands on his shoulders, the sleeves of his robe tickling the skin of his chest, and then the agony of tearing as his cock sank into the hole.

"By all that is profane, Lucius, you have outdone yourself this time."

"Thank you, my lord."

And then both men were fucking him in earnest, and Draco wondered just how much his heart could take before it killed him. He realized then that his eyes were open, but everything seemed dark. Too dark.

He could hear Snape's voice, but he wasn't sure it was real. Then Harry's.

Then a flash of green penetrated the murk, and the man who had once been Tom Riddle slumped forward into Draco's arms. Draco knew he was dead, the corpse slipping from his grasp. Lucius roared, and suddenly spells were flying everywhere. Draco fell upon his side, forgotten for the moment, as his father, glowing white like an avenging angel, threw curses and hexes.

Draco put a hand over the hole in his chest and struggled to look around. The cage was empty. Voldemort's body smoked slightly where it lay. Death Eaters were milling about, some of them downed by hexes. Harry, Hermione, and Snape were gone.

Lucius was bellowing orders from where he stood over Draco, streaked with blood and still gleaming.

The new Dark Lord. Draco wondered, if he had a wand, if he would have been able to kill him now.

Then the crack of Apparition, close at hand. Harry's voice--casting a Shield Charm. Then another. And then a third incantation. "Accio Draco Malfoy!"

That was the last thing Draco heard before silence and blackness were all he knew.








PART FIFTEEN: Circle
(3529)

When Draco woke the first time he could perceive two things. One was that he was curled into a tight ball, in what felt and smelled like a bed. The other was voices.

"I'm not leaving him. You can bring me something to eat if you're worried, but I am staying right here."

"Harry, you've been sitting here for two full weeks..."

"I know that."

As the voices lapsed into silence, Draco tried to open his eyes, to move, but it appeared only his ears and some small part of his awareness were awake. His mind sluggishly churned. The voices... he knew those voices.

Potter and Granger.

Harry and Hermione. The words began to sink in. Two weeks? Potter had been sitting at his bedside for two weeks? What had happened...?

His body convulsed as he remembered. Oh god, Voldemort, my father...

"Get Snape!" Harry. Draco felt a touch on his shoulder, but that only made the convulsions worse. "Hurry, Hermione!"

Draco tried to cry out, tried to speak, but instead sweet oblivion took him.

***

The next time he woke, he could not feel his body at all. As before, he could hear voices, but not open his eyes.

Hers was annoyed. Churlish. "I care about him, too, you know."

He replied in kind. "Sure you do. That's why you were willing to skive off and leave him to die."

"I didn't want to leave him there."

"It was your idea to use him as a diversion in the first place."

"It was not. It was Snape's."

"That isn't what Snape told me, down in the dungeons. Fact is, you were both willing to sacrifice him to save your own skins. I wasn't."

Draco could imagine them sitting there, imagine every nuance of their faces, the tiny frown lines between Hermione's eyebrows, Harry chewing his lip.

What did Harry mean, Snape told him? A shiver of cold started to build in Draco's gut.

Hermione's voice was soft. "I don't want you to be angry with me, Harry."

"I'm not angry with you, Hermione."

"Yes, you are."

"All right, fine. I am angry. And you know why."

"I just want you to understand that we had a job to do and we did it. Saving Draco Malfoy was not part of the plan."

The sound of Draco's own name went through him like a jolt. But he could not wake. Could not move. What plan? he wanted to say. To shout. What plan!

Then he strained to hear Harry's voice, almost a whisper. "You saw what they were doing to him."

Then silence.

"They were fucking him to death, Hermione." Harry sounded sick. The shiver in Draco's center began to spread.

Hermione was all business. "We didn't know something like that was going to happen."

"So it wasn't in the plan. Is that what you're saying? That didn't stop you two from changing the plan to use him as a diversion." Harry hissed. "I don't know how you can say you care about him."

"Look. What Draco and I had down there in that dungeon was temporary. Like a summer romance."

Oh, Hermione...

"A summer romance?" Harry sounded incredulous.

"That's not the way I mean it. I mean... a passionate affair, but one that has an end. I have no regrets about the way I felt about him."

How did you feel, Hermione? Had she been playing him when she wished they had both been Ravenclaws? He wished he could sit up and take her hand, or at least see her face, her eyes, as she spoke.

"There was a lot more to him than I expected. And, you know, he was very good at what he did. I couldn't help getting... close to him. Just like you did."

The cold suddenly became an icicle, stabbing him in the heart. But he could not move, could not protest. What potions must they have given him? Or had his body simply shut down after what he had been through?

He remembered their faces, Lucius and Voldemort, their eyes, as they had ravaged him. But at the moment he could not remember what it felt like. He could not remember what anything felt like. Not Hermione's hair in his fingers nor Harry's lips on his.

Harry's voice cut through his thoughts. "I think you wanted to leave him behind because it was a convenient way to end it."

"Harry, I can't believe you think I'm that callous."

"Did your feelings really change overnight? Just because we're in a different place now?" There was a desperate edge to Harry's voice as he added, "Mine didn't."

"Listen, Harry." Draco knew that tone, her lecturing voice. He had known her so well, once. Not that long ago, was it? "You know that periods of extreme stress, and sex, too, make a chemical release in your brain..."

Harry was curt. "Is this the bonding behavior theory?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact it is."

"And you wonder why I think you're callous? Jeez, Hermione..."

"Harry. Please come down off your white horse for a moment and think." Logical, logical Hermione. "Snape said you only went along with Draco to lull him into a false sense of security. You went through a trying time with him, and yes, I know, sex with him was great. I get that."

"What you don't get, Hermione, is that although you don't love him anymore..."

"Are you really saying you're in love with him? Can you honestly say that? Just because somebody can bring you to the point of tears with sex doesn't mean you're in love with them. Or that they're in love with you." Her logical tone fell away as she came close to shouting. "Okay. You bonded with him. But can't you see it's your oversized sense of heroics that makes you think you're responsible for him? That isn't love, either, Harry."

Harry did not answer. Something inside Draco clenched hard. He wanted to scream. Hermione was rarely wrong and hearing her say those words made the possibility seem like fact.

"Maybe it isn't love," Harry replied, after a few moments of silence. "But it's what I have."

"You don't honestly think he feels anything for you, do you?"

Harry... Draco tried to will his mouth to open, his voice to work. Harry!

"Should that matter to me?" Harry asked.

"Of course it should matter. You deserve someone who loves you. Who really loves you, who'll care for you the way you care for them."

"Why? Because I'm the hero of the Wizarding world?"

"Yes... No! Everyone deserves that, Harry."

"You're... such an optimist."

"That's what kept me going in Voldemort's dungeon for four months."

Harry didn't seem to have anything to say to that. And Draco couldn't, of course. They lapsed into silence, all three of them.

Draco wondered where they were. The Hogwarts infirmary? Their voices didn't echo the way they would in that cavernous room. Wherever he was sounded smaller than that, but with no way to open his eyes or even to feel the bed he was on, he could make no more guesses.

Harry, he imagined saying, don't listen to her. In his mind's eye he tried to imaging sitting next to Harry--where? The Leaky Cauldron? The Great Hall at Hogwarts?--somewhere and telling him... what?

Draco did not know. He couldn't feel anything. Anything at all.

***

"Draco, can you hear me?"

That was Snape's voice. Draco tried to answer. He might have made a small sound in his throat. It was difficult to tell whether he did or if he merely wished it so.

"Draco?"

Light. There was light--Snape was prying his eyes open and shining a light. He could feel Snape's fingers on his face.

"Drink this."

Something sweet and soothing went down his throat. Before it took him back down into the darkness, he heard Snape say one more thing, to someone else in the room.

"It should not be long now."

***

The next time he woke, he was on his back. He relished the feeling of gravity, of his chest rising and falling and the weight of the covers as he breathed. He opened his eyes to find it was night. There was a window. The moonlight playing with the ragged edges of clouds drew his eye and he stared.

Then he focused on the room. A small bedroom. Not a hospital then. The bed was a four-poster similar to his old one at Hogwarts, but no curtains.

He could hear someone breathing off to his right, a gentle snore. If he craned his neck, he could make out the tousled top of Harry's head, sleeping on the floor, using a folded blanket for a pillow.

Draco blinked, wondering why he could not sit up further. Then he realized he was bound to the bed. Was he a prisoner? Because he was a Death Eater? His heart began to pound. He tugged against the sheets and whimpered.

Harry was up in a flash. "Draco?"

Draco kept struggling, panicking.

Harry lit the lamps and then got hold of Draco's hands. "It's okay, it's okay," Harry was saying, trying to still Draco's frantic tugs. "Hold on."

"I..." The hysteria in Draco's voice hurt his own ears. "Help me!"

"I know. I'll untie you." Harry's voice was soothing. "You were thrashing because of the potions and they were afraid you were going to hurt yourself. So you're tied. It's okay." Harry squeezed Draco's hands. "Okay? Okay now?"

"O-okay."

They had bound Draco to the bed with strips of bedsheets. Harry quickly gave up trying to unknot them and just sliced them with a quiet Diffindo. Then he leaned against the edge of the bed. "There."

Draco's chest was still heaving and he didn't trust his voice to say much. "H-Harry..."

"It's all right. Just rest." Harry leaned both hands against the edge of the bed. He looked exhausted. "I... I should tell the others you're awake."

"No." Draco slowed his breaths. "Just let me... sit for a moment." Technically he still was not sitting, but he did slide himself up his pillows. His eyes still searched the room.

"You're not a prisoner," Harry said then. "I told them... well... you've been pardoned." Harry's dark-ringed eyes darted from his hands to Draco's face. "Do you... remember what happened?"

Draco thought for a moment. "I remember the dungeon. I remember Lucius and the Dark Lord." I can't remember how your lips felt or how your skin tasted. "I remember you came for me."

The silence that followed was thick. Harry was the one that broke it. "Are you feeling better?"

Draco put his hand over his heart, on top of the covers. "There was a hole..."

Harry put his hand on top of Draco's. "You're healed. Snape's doing. The spell wasn't... permanent."

"How long?"

Harry squeezed Draco's fingers. "Two months, give or take."

Two months. "God. Will there be scars?"

Harry blushed. "I don't know."

"You've seen. Haven't you."

Harry blushed deeper. "No. I've... been afraid to look."

Draco slid his hand from under Harry's. "Turn away if you want." He pushed himself further up his pillows and slid the covers down to his waist.

Transfixed, Harry did not move.

Draco was wearing a soft gown, tied with a gentle bow across his chest. He pulled the loose end of the bow and slid the gown off his left shoulder, exposing the perfect skin of his chest, the smooth place next to his nipple under which lay his heart.

Harry reached out a hand to touch the place, but Draco flinched away. They stared at each other.

Harry turned away.

Draco's hands were shaking hard as he re-tied the bow. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice nearly as tremulous. "Harry, I..."

"It's all right," Harry said, his fists clenched. "I'll leave you alone."

"No. Please..." Draco hated the pleading in his voice, but the terror that seized him at the thought of being left alone was much deeper than his momentary flinch. "Please, Harry. I know you've been here... all this time."

The look in Harry's eyes was wary as he looked back.

"I could hear you, your voice..." He couldn’t explain. He couldn't tell Harry what he knew or what he thought, nor what he felt. "Please come here."

Harry went to the beside. Draco held up his palm. Harry put his hand into Draco's, and Draco--his hand still shaking--placed Harry's fingers on his chest. Then all of him shook and he realized he was crying and holding back a scream.

Harry said nothing and Draco struggled to get himself under control. Breathe. In, out. Harry won't hurt you.

After a few agonizing minutes, Harry withdrew his hand. "Are you hungry?"

Draco was unable to think of anything but that time in the dungeon when Harry had tried to get him to eat something. And succeeded. Then he remembered that Harry had been trying to lure him in. His stomach turned. "No. Definitely not."

Harry nodded. "I'd better tell Snape you're conscious. Will you be okay... for a few minutes?"

"Yeah." Draco rolled to face the wall, his legs curling up, his forehead pressed against his fists.

***

After a few days, they started letting him eat real food as the potions he needed were reduced. And they started to tell him real news from the world outside--or, well, Snape did. Hermione had not come to see him at all, which did not surprise him in the least. Harry had spent parts of every day with him, but neither of them spoke much when he was there. So it was Snape who began to feed him current events. That Lucius had taken over the Death Eaters. That attacks and raids were still going on. That the war was not over.

Draco took the news stoically.

Snape's hand on his forehead woke him in what looked like evening--he was still having trouble telling what day it was and how much time passed. The afterglow was in the sky and the light in the room was low.

"Your temperature is nearly normal, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said, clasping his hands.

Draco suddenly glared at Snape. "You could have told me," Draco said, sitting up.

"I believe I just did...?"

"Not that, you snake."

Snape took a half-step back.

"Why didn't you tell me that you were plotting with them?" Draco pushed down the bile rising in his throat. "Hell, I'd already decided to try to help Potter when the time came, only Lucius bollocksed that opportunity."

Snape's face was its usual impassive mask.

"You used me as a diversion." Draco clenched his fists under the sheets. "And you left me for dead. You could have at least told me what you were going to do."

Snape looked away. "There was too much risk. You might have..."

"Bloody well killed myself with your syrup of hellebore the night before, until I decided to do whatever I could to give Potter a clear shot." Draco realized that tears were starting to leak from the corners of his eyes.

Pain showed on Snape's face as he tried to compose his next sentence. He shook his head. "I did not trust you. I had a mission and I performed it."

"I suppose you did." Draco rubbed his eyes. "For a while there, though, I thought you cared. That night you took me to your quarters..."

Snape closed his eyes for a moment. "I never told you what the task was that he set for me."

Draco had to think for a moment. Oh, for a chance at Potter. "But I had already...?"

"I know. In fact, as soon as I was told what he wished me to do, I conceded the race to you. But he insisted I accomplish it anyway." Snape seemed annoyed at Draco, but his voice came out unusually kind. "Have you not figured it out, yet? That night, I took you to my bed..."

"On his orders."

"Yes."

Draco let the new pain well up and then ebb. "I trusted you."

"I know. He knew you did, as well."

Trying hard to keep his thoughts focused, Draco made a bitter sound in his throat. That was just like Voldemort, though. How many captives had Draco suckered in, gained their trust, and then betrayed them? "You could have told me that, too, Snape. You could have just fucking told me. Or were you afraid that then I'd turn you down?" He ground his teeth. "You owe me."

Snape's gaze was sharp. "I would say that given the trials you put me through before our flight from Hogwarts, and the fact that it is my hand that healed you from your ordeal, we are even now, Mr. Malfoy."

"Not quite." Draco's voice dropped. "Not while Lucius lives."

Snape cocked his head. "He is still at large. You are not a killer, Draco."

"But you are."

Snape nodded then, almost a bow. "Then we understand each other."

Draco returned the nod, and Snape turned on his heel and left the room. Draco heard the sound of his boots going down a flight of stairs and then nothing.

***

Hermione visited about two weeks later. Harry was sitting by the bedside, reading the Daily Prophet, while Draco was fully occupied staring at the ceiling. It was a full time hobby for a convalescent like him and it took his complete attention. The ceiling-gazing had worried him a little at first, but one of the mediwitches who came to tend him after Snape's disappearance told him it was normal for someone who had been through a great trauma.

Harry had not tried to touch him since that first day he had woken up, and Draco was grateful.

Draco didn't expect any visitors other than Harry and the occasional mediwitch or -wizard, so he tore his gaze from the ceiling when he heard the door latch creak. Hermione stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. She spoke without preamble. "I have some news that I thought you both should hear."

They both stared at her, waiting.

"Lucius is dead. Snape got to him. Apparently that's where he's been all this time." She seemed annoyed by this.

Harry's smile was wan but his eyes were bright. "Finally."

Draco let out a sigh and lay back against his pillows. The other two seemed to be expecting him to say something. But he was not about to ask for details of how or where Lucius met his demise.

Smiling, he propped himself up on his elbows and looked at Hermione. "So... how've you been, then?"

Her tone matched his, chatty and light. "Just fine, Draco. I hear you're doing better."

"They say I may be able to actually walk down the hall by the end of the week."

She beamed at him. He realized he didn't care if she was playacting for his benefit. Talking with her was like conjured crumpets, delicious on the tongue but with no nutritional value. Fairy gold. Maybe it always had been. "Are you happy about... your father?"

"Couldn't have happened to a nicer person." He sat up all the way then. "Hey, so does this mean the war is over?"

"Just about." She glanced at Harry, who hadn't said a word since they had begun chatting, and who looked a bit gobsmacked. "There doesn't look to be much left of the Death Eaters, and not much resistance, either."

He smiled at her. "So, what are you going to do now?"

She shrugged. "You know, Ron Weasley's asked me to marry him."

"Oh, like no one saw that coming." He held out his hand. "Congratulations."

She put her hand in his, expecting a handshake, but he brought her fingers to his lips and kissed the back of her hand. Hermione snatched her hand back but she had a smirk on her face. "I have to go. But I'm glad you're feeling better." Her eyes softened and Draco knew that look must be her there-goes-my-ex-lover look.

After she left, Harry turned to him. "I... uh..."

Draco fell back, utterly exhausted. "Don't ask. I can't explain." I can't explain why I can just banter away with her like a magpie in the morning when you and I barely exchange three words in a day.

"Okay." Harry lapsed back into his chair and shortly after, Draco fell asleep.

***

The day Draco finally walked to the end of the hallway and back, he declared he was leaving. "I'm the lord of the manor now," he told the fresh-faced mediwizard from St. Mungo's who came to give him one last check. "Can't stay here forever."

But when he had dressed in his robes and was ready to leave, he sat on the edge of the bed swinging his booted feet.

Harry sat in his usual chair, a dining room chair that he had dragged into the room months ago.

"If you have anything to say," Draco said. "Now's the time."

Harry stared at him with narrowed eyes. "You're sure you're going to be all right..."

"No. No, I'm not sure." Draco hugged himself. "But I can't very well hide in your guest room for the rest of my life." They had finally told him some days ago where he was, the old Black townhouse in London, which was now Harry's. With the war over and the Order of the Phoenix disbanded, it was now just Harry's house.

"I want to help you."

Draco kept his breathing deep and even. "Why did you come back for me that night? When the others wouldn't?"

Harry swallowed hard. "I saw what they did to you." He sounded like he could barely speak. "I couldn't let... I couldn't..."

"You might belong in Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart," Draco quoted softly.

"What?"

"Never mind." It was part of the song the Sorting Hat had sung, the year he and Harry had arrived at Hogwarts. He had memorized it and written it in his diary.

Harry's mouth finally caught up to Draco's line of thought. "If you think the only reason I went back was because of some Gryffindor moral code or something... that's not it."

Draco's eyes were hooded. "Isn't it?"

"No. I mean, yes, that's part of it. It was simply wrong to leave you there, and right to go back. That's the simple part." Harry pressed his hands together. "The not so simple part is..." he trailed off, unable to muster an end to the sentence.

"Is not so simple," Draco said. "I know." He wondered himself. Had he been falling for Harry Potter down there in the dungeon? Or had he just needed a hero?

And had Harry needed someone to rescue?

He looked down at his feet, hanging there half a foot off the floor. Had anything changed, really?

"Listen," Draco said. "Before I go back to the manor, I'll need to go to Diagon Alley to get a new wand. I suppose, maybe, it might be good if someone came along with me, just in case I can't make it on my own..."






Part Sixteen: Tomorrow

One Year Later

He wakes up to find himself on the floor in front of the fireplace, on his hands and knees on the parquet floor, knowing from long experience that any moment now, Harry Potter will be appearing.

The panic attacks and blackouts have been very infrequent of late, and thus, so have Harry's visits. Draco still doesn't know how Harry knows when it happens; he's never asked and Harry has never told.

He wants to be on his feet by the time Potter arrives, but his ambition is undone by the weakness in his limbs. He gets a hand on the mantelpiece and is struggling to pull himself upright when Harry's arms circle his chest from behind. Draco thrashes a little in his grip, not voluntarily, and Harry heaves him into a wingbacked armchair.

Draco rests his head against the wing and tries to slow his breathing. It is not always like this. Sometimes he can bear Harry's touch. Other times, like now, his body fights a battle that it lost long ago.

"Are you all right?" Harry always asks this.

Draco waves his hand vaguely. He just wants Potter to go. He doesn't want him to see him like this.

He doesn't want Harry to see what has changed.

It started a few months ago, the time he collapsed in the garden. He had woken up that time on his back, in a bed of snapdragons, with Harry kneeling next to him, just brushing his hair out of his eyes. Harry's fingertips felt cool and smooth on his forehead, and for a moment Draco had wanted to reach up, twine his fingers in the hair behind Harry's neck, and pull him down in the flowers and kiss him.

Instead he'd sat up so suddenly that they almost bumped heads.

He watches Harry through the overlong strands of his hair--he cannot stand to have someone cut it--and wonders what activity he interrupted this time. Harry's hair is windblown, his cheeks flushed. A little autumn Quidditch? Draco's heart rate, which he had finally slowed, begins to pick up again.

"You can go," Draco says. "I'm fine now."

Harry leans in. "Your eyes are still a bit dilated."

"It'll pass."

"Draco..."

Draco looks up, startled by the edge in that voice. Pained. He cocks his ear toward Harry like he's not sure what he heard.

Harry sits at Draco's feet. "I just want to make sure."

Sure of what, he doesn't say, but Draco suddenly feels Harry must know. Must know that even now, even with his insides still fighting, he wants to reach out and caress Harry on the cheek. He wants to find out what the little bit of stubble on Harry's chin will feel like under his thumb. He wants to know what Harry's lips taste like.

He doesn't remember. "You should go."

"I don't think I will."

"Why?"

Harry lifts his hands and moves them slowly through the air, toward Draco's knees. Draco stiffens, but Harry lets his fingers down lightly. They rest on the fine muslin of Draco's robe. Harry comes up on his knees then, and picks up one hand to brush the hair from Draco's face. "It's time for this, Draco."

Draco's heart is pounding, and his chest shakes as he sucks in a breath, but he does not say no.

Harry leans his mouth toward Draco's. Draco keeps his eyes locked with Harry's until he feels Harry's breath on his lips, and then he closes them in surrender.

It was the tenderness that undid him, that time with Snape. That is what he remembers as Harry's lips brush his and tears start to fall. Harry is so gentle Draco can't help but weep.

When Harry pulls back, Draco grasps his hands and presses them to his forehead. Then kisses them. He sits back with a sigh.

"Are you all right?" Harry asks.

Draco nods. The words "thank you" are on his tongue, but whenever he has told Harry that in the past, Harry has squirmed uncomfortably.

He realizes there is a better way to thank Harry. "Will you help me do something?"

Harry is sitting on his own feet, now. "What is it?"

Draco has been thinking about this for some time, but he's never quite had the courage to do it. "Have you been to my father's grave?"

Harry looks puzzled. "No. Have you?"

"No. But... I think I might." Draco leans forward. "Soon. I think I'll be ready soon."

Harry nods and gets to his feet. "Owl me?"

"I will." It will be a while yet, before he is ready to piss on Lucius Malfoy's grave. If tonight is any indication, the journey is going to be long, the steps small, before he is able to bare his cock in Harry Potter's presence. He smiles, realizing that this is the first time he has had a goal since... in a long time. "Harry?"

"Hm?"

"You could... could you stay for dinner?" Draco feels a little blush on his cheeks as he realizes he just wants to look at Harry a little longer. "The house elves dote on you, you know."

Harry runs his hand through his hair, as if thinking it over. "How about tomorrow?"

Draco can hear the promise of something in Harry's voice as clear as a nightingale's song. He nods, aware that he is agreeing to Harry's terms. Harry who is so gentle it makes him weep. "Tomorrow."

-fin-




And now, for those of you who like to finish a movie on DVD and immediately watch all the extras... you may go on to the Draco's Folly Author's Notes.