Title: Fidelius

Email: tirel@pcnuthut.com

Site: https://www.angelfire.com/tv2/firebird_ascending/

Author: Constant Vigilance

Disclaimer: JK Rowling is God. I own nothing.

Distribution: Sure. Just lemme know where my baby’s going.

Spoilers: Er…OoTP just to be safe. Its pretty much AU. And Book 5 never happened. *grr*

Summary: Draco is Harry’s secret keeper. Lucius would like some information, please.

Warnings: Rape, torture—squicky and otherwise, slash (of course), probably naughty language…oh, and an intense fluffy ending. Cause deathfics suck.

“Where is he, my son?” Lucius bit out.

Draco stared stonily at his father. “I have no idea, sir.” Lucius growled and sank his fingers into Draco’s silky blonde locks. Draco managed…just…not to flinch. He saw Vin and Greg tense up out of the corners of his eyes and he pressed a warning hand to Vin’s knee just before Lucius yanked Draco off of the stool. Lucius dragged his son up to the front of the classroom and slammed him onto his back against Snape’s desk.

“I think you do, Draco,” he held out his hand behind him. The elder Crabbe chuckled and dropped a vial onto the slim appendage. Snape inhaled a sharp breath through his nose, causing the front row of Gryffindors to glance at him worriedly. “I think you do, and I intend to find out.”

He plucked the stopper from the bottle of veritaserum and snatched at Draco’s hair again. Draco fought minutely, but gave in resignedly as he felt the enjoyment his father got out of his struggles. Lucius bent him further backwards and leaned in, grinding his hips into Draco’s. “Open up, my boy.”

Lucius didn’t give him a chance to comply. He rammed the glass vial in-between Draco’s lips, cracking it dangerously against a tooth, and poured. The one or two drops normally required in proper dosage didn’t make an appearance. Instead, Lucius continued to pour, rapidly exceeding the overdose level and watching as his son choked on the bitter liquid.

“Lucius!” Snape took an involuntary step towards his desk, stopping only when Lucius snarled at him. “Lucius, you’ll kill him. His body can’t take that amount. You have to let him remove it from his system. There will still be enough left in him to force the truth from him.” Snape was panicking really, though none could tell from watching his cool visage.

Lucius glanced from Snape to Draco and rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he snapped, and dropped the boy. Taking a few steps back, he waited impatiently while Draco choked and gagged from his new position on the floor. Lucius watched with a disgusted moue of his lips as the younger Malfoy vomited the noxious fluid back up, soaking the hem of his own robes.

Draco heaved until he was certain his stomach was coming up next. As he retched, he could feel the serum taking effect. He became dizzy and lightheaded and noticed that he really didn’t give a rat’s arse who was watching the Ice Prince of Slytherin puke his guts out. That alone was enough to make him realize that the potion was working it’s distancing magic on him.

Lucius cleared his throat. “Feeling better, dearest?” he asked considerately. Draco rolled his eyes upwards, glaring at the elder Malfoy. “No?” Lucius drew back his dragon hide clad foot and rocketed the toe up into Draco’s ribs. Draco yelped, the crack of bone giving way echoed through the classroom. He expelled the remainder of his stomach contents and stayed on his knees, his head hanging.

“How about now?”

Draco spat bile tinged saliva out of his mouth and lifted his head again. “Thank you, father,” he answered cordially, his voice raspy, “I don’t know that I could have gotten that last bit out without your help.”

Lucius laughed. “That’s the Malfoy spirit!” His laughter died. “Now, let’s show a bit of Malfoy loyalty and have you tell me where Potter is hiding.”

Draco shook his head. “I’m sorry, father. I’m afraid I’m out of Malfoy loyalty today.” Lucius narrowed his eyes. He tossed his cane up slightly and caught it in the middle. He tested its weight and then let fly. Draco lurched to the side, his head leading the way. When he looked back up, blood ran down his face from a furrow high on his cheekbone.

Lucius smiled tenderly. “I’ve always loved to see you bleed, my son. There’s just something so very erotic about it.” Hisses of indrawn breath marked the Gryffindors in the room. The Slytherins sat in silence.

Draco managed a smirk. “Not surprisingly, father, I couldn’t feel less erotic at the moment; airing our family difficulties in front of the Mudbloods whilst wallowing in my own vomit.”

Lucius inclined his head in sympathetic understanding. “I, too, am disturbed at the disobedience my fellow Death Eaters must witness from my only son.”

Draco heaved himself to his knees, wiping his hands off on his robes. “I can only claim restitution, father, for the level of disturbance you and your friends have caused me in the last 17 years.” He braced himself for blow and was not disappointed.

Lucius’s flared nostrils gave the only hint of his displeasure; the rest of the damage was dealt with a calm smile and unhurried movements. The elder Malfoy backhanded Draco to the floor and followed the boy down with his cane. For long moments, the only sounds in the room were the thick, meaty thumps of metal on flesh. When Lucius stood, he flipped his hair back over his shoulders and shrugged his cloak back into place.

Rolling his shoulders, he waited patiently for Draco to crawl back to his knees. “Impressive, my son,” he drawled. “Usually, you’re squealing like a kneazle after the first minute or two.”

Draco pushed himself up to his feet, hanging on to Snape’s desk as he did so. A gagging noise could be heard from the rear of the Gryffindor tables as Draco’s ruined face came into view. He, however, just smiled; bloody lips drew back to show equally bloody teeth. “I’d say I’ve been practicing, father, but I only seem to go through this amount of damage when I’m in your presence,” he stated.

Lucius’ expression was icy. “Unless you wish to experience more, my son, tell me where Harry Potter is hiding.”

Draco wiped his mouth, ineffectively as the blood flowed back immediately. “No.”

Lucius stiffened. “Do you know where he is?”

Draco twitched, causing Lucius to smile. He could feel the drug beginning to swell in his veins, demanding the truth. He fought the foreign substance, but knew he was losing. “Yes,” he gritted.

Lucius nodded. “Now we are getting somewhere. I understand that you are his secret keeper. Is this true?” Draco nearly bit through his lip to keep that information in, but in the end…

“Yes,” he bit out.

“Where is he?” Lucius demanded. Draco nearly gasped with relief. A question he could avoid completely answering.

“Somewhere safe,” was his reply. His only hope was misdirection

Lucius growled, realizing what game Draco was attempting to play. “Is he in the school?”

Draco’s eyes shot daggers. “Yes.”

“Does anyone else know his whereabouts?”

Draco clutched the edge of the desk hard enough to crack his fingernails. He tried to focus on that tiny pain, tried to distract his thoughts from what he knew. “Yes,” he moaned, unable to keep the word from spilling over his lips.

“Tell me the names of the people who know,” Lucius ordered eagerly.

“No,” Draco hissed.

Lucius took a step forward and brandished his cane. “What are the names of the people who know where Harry Potter is hiding?” Lucius changed his wording.

Draco moaned again and slammed his head down onto his hands, physically fighting the veritaserum’s urges. “Dumbledore,” he whispered finally.

“Does anyone else know?”

“No.”

“Where is Dumbledore?” Lucius continued.

Draco snapped his head up to glare at his father. “Somewhere safe,” he snarled. Lucius smiled hugely.

“So, Dumbledore is with young Potter. Isn’t that convenient?” Lucius rubbed his hands together. Draco pointedly didn’t correct his father’s mistake, taking solace in the fact that his father’s cocky attitude would at least save one of the heroes of the war. Draco desperately searched out Snape’s visage and found it just beyond his father’s shoulder.

~Please, ~ he begged silently. ~Please tell me what to do. ~ But Snape just closed his eyes in a long blink. No. He could not help Draco. His own position as a spy was already in severe question at the audacity of Lucius and the other death eaters to come storming into his very classroom to interrogate the young Malfoy heir.

“What floor are they hiding on?” Lucius absently twirled his cane, enjoying the glint of fear in his son’s eyes. Tiny whimpers came from behind him and he fought turning to cast cruciatus on the Gryffindors. If they must make noise during an interrogation, it really should be appropriate to the situation.

Draco, to his credit, fought the drug with every ounce of Malfoy determination he possessed. He bit his lip until blood ran down his chin. He gripped the desk until Lucius saw a nail give way and crack under the pressure. But in the end, the drug was more powerful. “Dungeon level,” he whispered just before slamming his own head into the desk.

Lucius smiled a chipper smile, believing Draco to be angered at his own weakness. Draco knew differently. Harry was on the dungeon level. Dumbledore was heading to destroy Voldemort as they spoke. But Lucius asked only which floor of Hogwarts hid them, and thus Draco was only obligated to share the part of his knowledge that fit the situation.

But, not knowing this fact, Lucius Malfoy was in a grand mood. A mood that called for celebration. “Strip, Draco,” he ordered, a wicked lilt in his voice. More yips and gasps from those bloody Gryffindors. At least the Slytherins had the good sense to remain silent. ~Of course, ~ he snickered, ~that had more to do with the fear that they would be required to replace Draco as his father’s toy than it did real respect. ~

Draco looked up, startled. “What?” he asked stupidly. He heard, but he didn’t quite register. Strip? Here? A cold feeling settled in his gut. His father had never forced a performance in public before. He might have raped his only son, but at least he did it in the privacy of his own home.

However, his hesitation was not prudent. Lucius waved a hand to the elder Crabbe again and the grinning man moved toward Draco.

“I said to strip, my son,” Lucius stated. “Are you deafened from our…exertions?” he asked politely.

Draco snorted rudely and forced himself not to flinch away as Crabbe snatched his robes front and ripped. The buttons scattered everywhere and Crabbe flung the torn material onto Snape’s desk.

“No, father. I’m not deafened,” he assured the older Malfoy nastily. “I’m just wondering what your reasoning for my nudity might be?”

Lucius took a seat on the front desk, causing Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan to scoot back so rapidly that Seamus fell out of his chair. Lucius spared the Gryffindor a disgusted look and then turned back to his son. “Perhaps the baring of your body might assist in the baring of your soul, ” he smiled coldly. “Unless everyone in the room is completely acquainted with your…assets?”

He gestured to Draco’s feet next and Crabbe reached down to pull Draco’s boots off. Draco, however, was not cooperating.

“Really?” he asked instead, pushing down as hard as he physically could to keep his foot stationary against Crabbe’s forceful tugging. “Are you sure this isn’t just to find an excuse to see me naked again, father?”

“I need no excuse to see you naked, my son,” Lucius replied in a cold whisper. “I own you. You will be naked at any time of my choosing.”

Draco fought the cold shiver that ran up his spine at his father’s words and at the hungry look the man was directing towards him. He cursed himself for wearing the sleeveless shirt and leather trousers. They were a definite attention-getting device. Unfortunately, at this point he really would rather not be getting the attention. He decided bravado was his best defense. “I am no one’s possession, father,” he hissed. “Least of all yours.”

Lucius nodded to the elder Goyle who pointed his wand at his own son. Greg’s eyes widened comically, or at least it would have been comical had the horror not been so evident. “Goyle,” Lucius ordered, eyes back to Draco. “If my son does not begin to remove his clothing, please cast cruciatus on your son.”

Greg’s eyes shot from Lucius to his father then to Draco and back to his father. The elder Goyle just shrugged and put his wand at the ready. Greg jerked his head back to Draco, fear dripping from every pore. Draco growled. He snatched his leg from Crabbe’s meaty hands and began to unlace his boots. Lucius smiled serenely.

“I’ve been looking forward to this, Draco,” he mentioned conversationally, once again twirling his cane. Draco made no response, simply removed his boots and socks and slammed them onto Snape’s desk along with the remains of his robes. “You seem to have forgotten to come home for the spring holidays. I do hope nothing went awry?”

Draco just growled again and stood, arms crossed, waiting for the next order. He wasn’t disappointed. “Remove that ridiculous shirt, boy.” He tugged it out of his waistband, hating his father with every pull. A single yank had it off of his head and on top of his boots. Lucius sighed appreciatively and stood. “Ah, my Draco. Such perfection. I do hope you’ve not been wasting it on those less deserving in this school.”

Draco refused to speak. His father made his way up to the small dais and walked around his son, hands trailing over pale flesh. Draco stared straight ahead, wondering that if he found the place in his head that he customarily retreated to, if he might spill something he had no intention of telling his father.

“So, my son. Have you been sharing this delectable bounty with others?”

Fuck.

He shook. Literally, he shook with the strain of suppressing the truth. But in the end…”Yes,” he bit out.

Lucius wasn’t pleased. One could tell by the immediate snarl that rose up on his face. Failing that, the hand sinking into Draco’s hair, snatching back his head and the one that painfully cupped Draco’s crotch, squeezing harshly, were sure signs. “You’ve been sharing that which is mine alone?” he repeated in a deadly whisper.

“Y-yes,” Draco stammered against the white-hot pain in his groin.

“How many since you’ve last seen me, my son?”

“E-eight,” he managed.

Now it was Lucius’ turn to growl.

“Were they girls?”

~Oh, yes…thank you to whomever is listening. ~ Draco sighed in relief. “Yes.”

Lucius smiled silkily. “Were there boys?” he asked in a liquid voice.

~Nonononononono! Fuck! ~ “Y-yes,” came the nearly unheard response.

Lucius abandoned Draco’s crotch for sinking both hands into his son’s blonde hair, holding his head in a vise-like grip. “How many?”

“F-four,” Draco closed his eyes against his father’s penetrating glare.

“Who were they?” Lucius demanded.

“Friends,” Draco caught himself, knowing that he would have to be extremely slippery around this subject or the death count would rise by four this day.

Lucius grinned. “Playing are we?” Draco shook his head as much as he was able. “Oh, I think we are, my son. Friends, eh?” Lucius scanned the room. “Which Slytherin did you allow to taste your sweet body, my son?”

“Gorgeous,” Draco smiled, blood dimming the normal white dazzle.

Lucius looked confused. “What?”

“Gorgeous,” Draco repeated, thankful that he’d given in to his romantic tendencies, even with a fellow Slytherin, and assigned a pet name.

Lucius snarled. “Funny, my sweet. What is his real name?”

In the back of the room, Blaise clutched at the hand offered up by Pansy Parkinson. He wondered if this would be the last day he would live to see.

Draco shrugged. “Dunno.” And technically, he didn’t. Blaise had never shared his middle name, nor if Blaise was shortened from something. God, he loved being a Slytherin. He tried to suppress a giggle, the pain combined with his success making him feel a bit lightheaded.

Lucius gave him the back of his gloved hand for his trouble. “And the others? Were they Slytherins as well?”

~Damn and double damn. ~ “No.”

Lucius looked a bit disturbed. “What house?”

~Oh, gods this was going to hurt. ~ “Gryffindor.”

The only silver lining he could find was that his father had had to let go of his hair to begin pummeling him with the cane again. The fangs made bloody furrows on his exposed skin and the metal head found every weak spot in his protective curled up position.

“You’ve sullied our name…your body…with Gryffindor trash?” Lucius screeched.

Draco knew he was quickly losing his inhibitions due to the drug. He knew this because he couldn’t find the switch in his head that kept him from talking back to his father. He giggled, dragging himself back up to lean against Snape’s desk. “Well, it was pretty messy, dad. Sex usually is, especially between boys. But I wouldn’t call it sullying.” He snorted another guffaw before the cane picked him up by his chin and deposited him on his back between the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables. Still, he couldn’t stop snickering.

“Who were they?” Lucius demanded in a deadly purr. “Tell me who they were so that I may wear their blood as I fuck you into oblivion.”

Draco shook his head weakly. “Well, there was Sexy,” Seamus shivered. “Baby,” Dean squeezed his eyes shut. “And Love,” he giggled again.

Lucius looked as though he might choke. “Love?” he screeched. “Love? You’re in love with one of them?”

Draco looked dreamily up at the ceiling. “I’m in love with the best of them,” he sighed contentedly. Lucius moved with catlike grace to his son’s side. And then slammed his boot into the boy’s stomach. Draco curled up around the fire now burning in his belly.

“Crabbe!” Lucius snarled. The larger man scuttled forward and jerked Draco up by the waistband. He dragged him back up to the dais and plunked him against the desk. “Strip him,” came the next order. Crabbe complied. Soon, Draco’s pants were part of the untidy heap piled on the desk and Draco was as nude as the day he was born. Crabbe continued to support the younger Malfoy’s body as he attempted to duck behind the desk, not so much for modesty’s sake as for the fact that he didn’t want his father’s disgusting eyes on him.

“My boy, I’m going to give you one more chance before I truly begin to cause you harm,” Lucius said, forcing himself into calm. “Where is Harry Potter?”

Draco met his father’s eyes and lowered his head conspiritally. “He’s…around,” he giggled.

Crabbe grinned at the spray of blood covering his face as Draco’s head went careening to the side again.

“What do you think your former lovers will think when they watch you screaming underneath me, Draco?” Lucius sneered into the boy’s face.

Draco turned unfocused eyes on his father and sneered back. “They’ll finally have a question answered.”

Lucius frowned. “What question?”

“They always wondered how I was so knowledgeable while still being a virgin,” he wiggled his eyebrows. “Now, they’ll understand that I wasn’t a virgin. I’d just been fucked by someone with a tiny dick.” Even Crabbe and Goyle laughed. Or rather, snickered, before hiding their amusement behind snarls of displeasure at the still giggling class. Snape made no attempt to hide his amusement. He concurred, actually. And wasn’t veritaserum a beautiful thing?

Lucius trembled with rage. Then, amidst his anger, he smiled. “Well then, I suppose that it’s a good thing I wouldn’t touch you if you begged me, then. Since you’ve become the Hogwarts Whore.” Draco frowned, but bit his tongue before he could snap a comeback at his father. Now was not the time for more quips and jabs. He had an important secret to keep.

“Crabbe,” Lucius called for his lapdog again.

“Sir?”

“Fuck my son.”

Crabbe’s eyes lit up. “Sir?”

“And make it hurt,” Lucius whispered in Draco’s direction before taking his place on the front desk again. Crabbe grinned his pleasure and snatched at Draco’s hair. He slammed the boy’s face into the desk as he bent him over it and a squishy pop sounded through the room.

Draco gave a slight yelp as his nose broke and turned his head to the side. ~Fuck. Wrong side. ~ He sighed as he made eye contact with a completely horrified Granger. He could see the Weasel next to her, his face bright red in anger. For once, it was that color for Draco, not because of him. ~And all it took was utter humiliation and rape, ~ he snickered silently.

“Dad! No!” Draco’s eyes snapped over to the Slytherin side of the room. Vincent Crabbe was standing up, rage and disgust written all over his features.

“If the boy speaks again, Goyle, kill him,” Lucius drawled. Goyle eyed his own son’s horrified gaze and then shrugged and nodded. Vincent just looked pissed. He moved to push his chair out of the way.

“Vin!” Draco snapped, noting his voice sounded nasally and wet with the blood that was collecting in his throat. “Sit the fuck down!” he ordered. Vincent hesitated, opening his mouth to protest. “Vin!” Draco nearly screamed, fear causing him to buck up against Vin’s father. A groan of pleasure made him want to throw up, but the glowing wand in the elder Goyle’s hand was more important. “Please, Vin,” he begged, lowering his voice. “Please just sit down. Please.”

Greg tugged at his companion’s robes and Draco could tell the larger boy was on the verge of tears. “Vin, do as he says,” he pleaded quietly. “It’s okay. He knows what he’s doing.”

Draco wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. He knew what he was doing? What the fuck? But if it kept his two idiotic…and loyal…friends safe, so be it. Let them think he had it all under control.

Lucius looked pleased with Draco’s command of the two boys. “Lovely, my son. Isn’t it interesting how two generations of Malfoy’s command two generations of Crabbe’s and Goyle’s?”

Draco sneered. “My two are loyal. Yours are quivering minions.”

Lucius only smiled. “But large quivering minions. Crabbe. Fuck him now.”

Draco squeezed his eyes shut as meaty fingers pulled his cheeks apart. He felt a blunt probing at his entrance and realized that he was about to be taken dry. He drove his face into the desk to distract him from the searing burn in his arse. A scream echoed around the room. Draco could tell it was female, but that was the extent of his deductive powers as the bigger man began thrusting into his dry channel.

Lucius waved Crabbe backwards and the huge man shuffled back a few steps, Draco still impaled on his cock. Blood was beginning to run down the blonde’s legs. He hated that. Hated the feeling of liquid dripping out of him like that. It reminded him of endless nights spent wiping his arse as his father’s semen drizzled out of him.

It was strange, now that his head was actually drifting, how he never had that problem with his other lovers. But then, Blaise and Dean and Seamus had preferred to bottom. Even so, the few times he’d tried bottom himself, they’d been more than willing to shower with him directly afterwards. And as for…well, as for Love…

Strangely enough, he adored that same feeling with his Love. Draco would stopper himself up to keep the boy’s cum inside of him all day if he knew how. As it was, the slow drizzle reminded him throughout the day or night how much Draco loved and missed him. It was a wet, sticky, musky scented promise that assured Draco that he loved and was loved in return.

Unfortunately, reality broke into his thoughts. Lucius stepped in front of him. Cold, pale, aristocratic…familiar…hands grasped Draco’s cock. “Son, where is Harry Potter?”

Draco just looked away again. “He’s near.” Oh, God. Granger was crying now. But then, so were Dean and Seamus. Those two held on to each other as though their combined strength were the only thing holding them upright. Neville Longbottom had Ron Weasley pinned to the desk, much to the amusement of the elder Goyle watching from across the room. He was slowly losing the contest to keep the wiry redhead from launching himself at Draco’s father.

The other Gryffindor girls were nowhere to be seen. ~Hmmm. Passed out? Or on the ground throwing up? ~ He heard retching. ~Ah. Throwing up. I’m right there with you, ladies. ~ He let his head loll to the Slytherin side. Anything to keep from making eye contact with his father. Pansy…dear sweet Pansy. She was holding on to Blaise and screaming into his robes. Tracey Green, Morag…oh God, Greg and Vince…were all fighting back tears.

Millicent was the only one who would meet his gaze. He saw pity, pain…but mostly, he saw strength offered. He wanted to smile his thanks, but he couldn’t get his face to work. A sharp pain in his groin drew his attention back to his father.

“Are you paying attention to me, Draco?” the elder Malfoy demanded.

“No,” Draco returned honestly. Another fierce tugging set his cock afire again.

“Enjoying your buggering, son?” Lucius sneered.

Draco shook his head. “Not at all, actually,” he gritted out. “However, he’s nearly as small as you, so I suppose it could be worse.” He felt Crabbe lose rigidity at his nasty words and he grinned through the haze of pain that was surrounding his face. “And now he’s even smaller. Poor Crabbe. Made you all flaccid, did I?” he snickered.

He felt the larger man pulling away. “Stop!” Lucius snapped, and Crabbe froze. Lucius snarled in Draco’s face. “You’ve upset him, Draco my son,” he whispered, his voice carrying a promise that made Draco shudder and push away, back into Crabbe’s flabby gut. “Crabbe,” he called.

“S-sir?”

“You’ve always wanted me, correct?” Lucius purred.

“Wha-? O-of course, sir,” Crabbe recovered quickly.

“Wanted my hand on you, stroking you to finish?

“S-sure I have, s-sir.”

Draco nearly laughed. He just knew that Crabbe was shooting desperate looks across the room at Goyle, begging for help in dealing with their psychotic owner.

“How would you like me to touch you now, Crabbe? Think that would get you…back to your former state?”

“Uh, I g-guess…yes, yes sir.”

Lucius smiled wickedly. “Oh, lovely.”

Draco didn’t see what happened. He knew it was something bad though. His father’s arm jerked quickly. Screams ricocheted off of the walls. Gryffindors and Slytherins alike leaped to their feet and were quickly driven back down again by Goyle’s wand. Snape yelled something out and Lucius didn’t even bother to turn to face him. He simply gave a hitch of his hand and his wand was in it. He muttered petrificus totalus and Snape toppled back against the wall, unable to even fall to the ground.

Draco felt a slow burn in his gut and pulled his eyes from his father’s to look downward. He watched Lucius drop a bloody dagger. He watched a line of blood form on his lower abdomen. Then he watched as his father touched him. Pressed his hand, which seemed so delicate on any other day, up against the incision. Into the incision. Into him.

He wanted to scream. He knew he should be screaming. But all he could do was watch as his father’s hand disappeared into his stomach. His eyes rocketed up to meet identical grey. And then the hand began to move. His eyes widened as he felt Lucius fish around, disturbing his guts from their resting place. Push aside his intestine. Brush up against his liver. More and more of his father’s arm disappeared into him.

And then he seemed to have found what he was looking for. He grasped, squeezing slippery wetness, and Crabbe moaned behind him…and hardened.

Oh, dear Merlin. His father was going to jerk the fucking bastard off inside of him. The scream that had been refusing to be freed suddenly escaped. It tore from his throat. It ripped past his tongue. It filled his head…filled the room. Filled his world. There was nothing but the burning in his guts, the sick shifting of his insides, the wave of screams pouring from his lips.

It was timeless.

It was unending.

It wasn’t real.

It couldn’t be real.

He tore his eyes from his father’s and searched the room. Someone had to be in on it. It had to be a sick fucking joke. If he could just find that person, he could tell them that it wasn’t funny anymore. His eye caught on something strange. Snape…frozen Snape…just moved. No…his robes moved. Why would his robes move?

He was still focused on that inane bit of information a moment later when Lucius stopped sneering and grinning at him.

When the look of delighted pleasure turned into a shocked confusion.

When his father’s head was pulled back by that gorgeous shock of long blonde hair and a line of red blossomed across his throat.

When Crabbe jerked behind him and the men surrounding him dropped off of him like flies.

He winced as, from one side a hardened cock pulled out of him, tugging unlubricated flesh with it; from the other, a hand slipped back through the myriad maze of intestine and withdrew with a sickening plop, following it’s owner to the ground. He looked down at his assailants.

Lucius’ eyes were wide in horror. His throat echoed that wideness. Draco thought he could see a flash of white. Perhaps his spine? Hmmm. He looked behind him. Crabbe couldn’t duplicate Lucius’ expression. He hadn’t the bits. A blade silenced eyes that should have been opened in expressive loss. His right eye was sliced and resting in a pool of blood. His left still had the shining instrument of his destruction vibrating in the socket.

Draco looked back up, confused. And then the ‘nothingness’ in front of him moved. A watery silken fabric fell aside to expose a pair of gorgeous green eyes, now narrowed in a combination of anger and worry. Perfectly formed lips, though bitten and chapped, pressed together forming a thin white line. Skin…soft, soft skin showed worry lines already etched into youthful flesh.

But he was beautiful.

Draco smiled.

“Hi, Love.”

And he dropped.

The world seemed to go on without him. He heard the commotion. Felt the hands of his lover on him. Knew something was going on. But he felt so disconnected. He heard obscenities screamed. Was that Greg? He tried to turn his head and only managed to flop it sideways. Ah, better. Yes… it was indeed Greg. Greg who was screaming at his father in what must have been a foreign language, as Draco couldn’t quite comprehend it.

Then, the boy hefted one of the sturdy potions seats and slammed his father into the ground with it. Again and again and again. Not one person stopped him. No Slytherin death eater’s child, no happy-go-lucky Gryffindor. Not even Professor Snape who must have been freed from the binding spell as he was now kneeling over Draco’s upper body.

They all watched as Gregory Goyle slowly beat his father to death.

Hmmm. And why was Harry here anyway? He was supposed to be secreted away in Snape’s secondary quarters. He lolled his head back to take in the verbal tennis match going on between Harry and Snape. He could only catch one word in four, but he thought he understood. Harry had snuck out before class. Snape had caught him and spelled him still, taking his wand.

Oh, gods, Harry had been forced to watch from the back of the room? He wanted to die. Now Harry knew what a filthy slut he could be. Spreading his legs for his father. For other boys. How could he convince him that it wasn’t like that anymore? That Draco only loved Harry? Would only ever love Harry? How could he make Harry love him again?

He wondered at Harry’s strength. He’d broken Snape’s spell, wandless and frozen, to come to Draco’s rescue. What kind of power did it take to do such a thing?

“Draco? Love, look at me.”

Harry? Was that Harry’s voice? Of course it was. Draco would know that voice in a crowd of hundreds. He looked up. Yes, he smiled. Bright green eyes. Pretty.

“Draco, we’ve called Madam Pomfrey. She’s on her way. Hold on, love. Just hold on.”

“I-I…”

“Shhh, love,” Harry breathed. “You can tell me everything later. Just stay still for now.”

Wetness blossomed on Draco’s face. He frowned in confusion until he saw the tears falling off of Harry’s nose. He reached up and tried to touch the droplet. Harry caught his hand, bringing it to his mouth and dropping sweet kisses on it.

“I-I didn’t tell him,” Draco managed hoarsely. He wondered why his throat hurt so much.

Harry smiled and gave a choking laugh. “I know, baby. You did good.”

“Granger cried,” Draco added. Harry just nodded. “I’m sorry I made Granger cry.”

He heard a sob from somewhere in the room but couldn’t place it. Oh, well. Harry was here now. Nothing else mattered.

“Please…” tears filled his own eyes and his face clenched up in pain. “Please, Harry, I’m sorry I’m not pure, not clean like you,” he hiccupped. Harry tried to hush him but Draco refused. “No!” he pulled Harry’s hand from his lips so he could continue. “I’m dirty. A-and I know I don’t deserve you. But, please…” he tried to move and found that his body wouldn’t obey him.

“Please, Harry…Love. Please give me a chance. I promise I’ll try to be who you want. I’ll stop being an evil git. I’ll even call Weasley Ron if you like. I’ll do anything…be anyone…just please, give me another chance?”

Harry leaned down, careful not to hurt. “Draco, you are who I want,” he whispered. “I wouldn’t have you any other way. I love you. Now, tomorrow, forever. Nothing you do or have done will change that. And you’re not dirty,” his voice hitched. “You’re beautiful. And pure. And mine. And I love you.”

Draco smiled through his tears. “Really?” he whispered. Harry nodded, unable to speak for the lump in his throat. “I love you, too, Harry.”

Harry nodded and kissed Draco’s hand again. Distantly, Draco heard the classroom door slam open. He knew that Madam Pomfrey was coming to heal him, to make him well again. He closed his eyes, leaving his physical health in her hands.

That part didn’t matter anyway. What did matter was his heart. And Harry had healed that.