broken.
this is the part where i used to talk about drunken nights and falling over and passing out in the street from drug fuelled states. but now (thank you lord) those days are over sooooo i'm presenting to you: A STORY! which i posted like ten thousand years ago, but for those who haven't seen it. for you:
Title: Broken
Author: idontgiveafaux
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Draco/Harry
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Raped by devils snare. MWHAHAHA
Summary: Draco swore revenge when Lucius was sent to Azkaban...
Word count: 3,300
Harry Potter’s eyes fluttered open hazily, but for all he could see, it wasn’t worth it. The pounding headache that was currently drum rolling inside his brain was the cause of his blurry vision, he suspected.
“Put him on the table.”
Woozy as he was, Harry stiffened. He could recognise that voice from anywhere, and it belonged to a person he had been trying to avoid all term. As he tried to turn his head to take a look, without going too quickly to avoid upsetting the jarring dull ache in his neck, his view was shaken violently. He felt his body being lifted from the floor, and bounced around while being held by someone. The headache racketed from wall to wall in his head and he shut his eyes and gritted his teeth as he thought it would explode with pain at any given moment.
He felt himself being ungraciously dumped onto a hard surface, his chin connecting violently with wood, making his eyes leak salty tears. He pushed the pain factor aside and tried to concentrate on the current situation. Slowly willing his arm to move, he crept it down the side of his body, feeling about for his wand in his robe pockets to find it wasn’t in there. A smirk was executed behind him.
“We’ll have none of that,” the familiar voice drawled and Harry felt his whole body tighten as restricted ropes bound him to the table. He tried moving every muscle in his body, but found he could only move the very tips of his fingers. Carefully timed footsteps echoed from the stone floor as his captor walked around him admiringly. Harry struggled desperately against the strong hold, but it was no use. Malfoy had obviously planned this right and the chance of escaping rapidly slimmed down to zero.
Unable to move his head, Harry was forced to stare crotch-level at his nemesis, before Malfoy slowly bent down to a crouching position to make eye contact with him. Harry felt a cold fury sweep over him as he was forced to stare into those slate grey eyes. His whole body shook with unsuppressed rage but the strong ropes held him steadfast.
“Well, well, well. To think that you - the famous golden boy - could be captured so easily,” Malfoy said silkily, his lip curling into his trademark sneer. “Who knew that the key to capturing precious little Potter was to attack him with physical force, rather than wasting time with magic?” At the mention of physical force, Malfoy’s eyes wandered from Harry and focused behind him.
“You’ve done excellent work. I shall see to him personally myself. You can go now.” His voice sounded devoid of emotion, but it was music to the ears of Crabbe and Goyle, as they exited the room to the left of Harry who could just about see their oafish figures leave from the corner of his eye. He shut them tightly, not wanting to have to stare at the sight of Malfoy straight ahead of him.
“Not so brave now, are we Gryffindor?” He taunted.
“Fuck you, Malfoy.”
Draco tutted. “That’s not a nice way to talk to someone who has you at their mercy, is it Potter?”
Harry simply squeezed his eyes tighter in reply. How could he have gotten himself into this fucking mess? The last thing he could remember was sitting in that bathroom. The Slytherin bathroom. He hadn’t cared either; he just needed refuge from his own house. He needed somewhere private to conduct his self-destruction. But why couldn’t he have chosen the Ravenclaw bathroom? Why couldn’t he have chosen the Hufflepuff bathroom to carve the names into his arm? The bloody etchings of ‘Lily’ and ‘James’ were most likely still there, along with a half-finished ‘Sirius’. He hadn’t finished that one as a big shadow had loomed over him. He might have seen the stomp to his head coming if he hadn’t been so weak. If he hadn’t been shaking so much from the loss of blood, from the loss of feeling, he might have been able to prevent it all. Now the wish that he half wished would come true depended on his enemy. Whether he lived in torment or died in vain depended on Malfoy. His future was going to be so poetic.
The footsteps began to echo around the room again and Harry opened his eyes to find himself staring at a stone wall. He had no doubts that he was in the Slytherin dungeons.
“It’s quite dark in here, isn’t it?” Malfoy drawled from behind him. As much as Harry didn’t want to see him, he didn’t feel at all comfortable with not being able to see him. He squirmed helplessly against the ropes that refused to relent and continued to do their job of restraining him tightly.
“Though I must say, it’s not nearly as dark enough as I like it. I have this on, for a start,” he said, brandishing his lumosed wand around, making shadows dance and dart around submissively against the room. His footsteps drew nearer, though they didn’t come to the spot where Harry was forced to stare, instead choosing to stop at his blood-ridden arm.
“My, what pretty graffiti you’ve drawn,” Malfoy said mock-appreciatively. “These names must be pretty important to you for you to vandalise your skin like this. Let’s see, what does this one say?”
Harry felt the cold touch of Malfoy’s fingers against his skin and he desperately tried to pull away, but to no avail. Malfoy had a tight grip around his wrist and forced it to turn a little so he could see the carvings Harry had made.
“Lily? That sounds familiar ... wait ... your mother?”
Harry bit down hard on his bottom lip to stop him cracking in front of Malfoy. That’s just what he wants...
“And let’s see ... this one says ... James? Your father, I presume.”
Harry felt a river of blood swim into his mouth, courtesy of his bitten lip.
“And the last one ... Siri … Siri? I don’t know who this ‘Siri’ is, Potter, perhaps you’d like to explain?”
Harry didn’t know how much more he could take.
Draco leaned in close to Harry’s ear. “Are you going to open up for me, Potter?” he whispered, hot breath laced with cold words brushing down Harry’s neck in a concoction of fiery frostiness.
Silence.
Then, calculated footsteps as Draco walked out of Harry’s view again. Harry felt his trousers being yanked down, and it was at this point that he really tried to fight against the magically unrelenting ropes.
“It’s no use Potter,” Draco’s voice drawled above the hopeless and frustrated sounds of Harry desperately trying to escape. He took a step back and watched, arms folded with an amused expression on his face, as Harry bucked his hips and tried to thrash about in the hope of releasing just a single limb, at least. After a couple of minutes, he gave up, his body slumping against the table in defeat. Draco calmly took a step forward and continued pulling down his trousers.
“Going commando, I like it!” Draco sneered, giving Harry’s bare arse a stinging slap that reverberated all around the room and rang tauntingly in Harry’s ears. “As I was saying earlier,” he continued, waving around his wand, making the shadows dance obediently again, “I don’t like light. Not really, I much prefer the dark. You see, some things really come out in the dark. In fact, everything comes out in the dark. Secrets, lies, betrayal...”
Harry was sure he heard his voice wobble slightly on that last word. “I don’t know why,” Draco continued, his calm drawl right back on track. “Maybe it’s because people can’t see in the dark, and feel less guilty about exposing their true feelings? The fact that they can’t see who they’re talking too makes it less real somehow. Almost as if you’re talking to yourself, sharing secrets with your mind. Yes,” he said decidedly, “I like the dark. I like it a lot.”
“If I turn off the light Potter,” he whispered, giving his wand a quick shake in indication, “will you open up to me?”
Harry didn’t reply, save from a slight gasp as he felt something eager and cold pressed against the tight hole in his arse, stroking it slightly with sharp edges.
“You’ll open up,” Draco sneered. This time it was a statement. He muttered an incantation that killed off the lighting spell formed on the tip of his wand. Almost simultaneously, Harry felt something rip his hole apart mercilessly. He screamed out loud as this thing forced itself up inside his arse, uncaring about the cuts it was delivering to the inside walls of his anus. He screamed again as it forced itself deeper, touching on a spot that made Harry’s dick harden instantly against the table despite the pain factor. It touched on the spot again and Harry felt a mixture of vomiting and climaxing at the same time. The screams echoed from wall to wall as this cruel penetration continued, darting anywhere that it could, forcing itself to make Harry’s arse his own. His vision blurred, and he didn’t have the energy to scream anymore as it continued to cut, deeper and deeper...
“Lumos,” came the sharp command, and as quickly as it had penetrated his soul, the thing that had occupied his insides fell limp and shrivelled out miserably. He vaguely heard a cruel laugh emitted from Malfoy, and barely registered a hand stroking the torn up hole in his arse.
“I think devils snare loves the dark as much as I do, Potter,” Draco snickered. He walked round to Harry’s front, and Harry, almost passing out from the sheer pain that the plant had given him, couldn’t muster the strength to shut his eyes. He saw the slate grey eyes that stared past his face and into his mind. For a moment, Harry could feel. A shudder involuntarily coursed through the entire length of his body and he felt very afraid of Draco Malfoy at that moment.
As if sensing this, Draco’s lips curled into a sinister grin. He waved the hand that had caressed Harry’s arse in front of him, and Harry blearily saw it was covered in a coat of crimson. It reached closer and closer to him, before wiping itself all over Harry’s face, violating his skin with the own blood taken so unwillingly from his body. All over Draco marked him, running the red fingers through his hair, smearing his glasses with it and applying a layer of blood-red lipstick against his lips, giving them a swollen look.
Draco admired his handiwork thoughtfully. “Very nice,” he concluded, before breaking into a harsh bark of laughter.
Harry swallowed back a churning and burning pool of vomit that was slowly rising to his stomach.
“Now let’s try again,” Draco said, adopting the earlier honeyed tones that he had used. “I want to know about these people, Potter.”
Even if Harry could have answered him, he wouldn’t have. He wouldn’t want to give him the fucking satisfaction of submitting to him. Every bone in his body was pulsating with aches and pains like he’d never felt before, but he wouldn’t obey Malfoy. Not for anything. These people were private. These people were his. These people were the driving force for him to curl up and die so he could join them.
“Answer me,” Draco roared, his coolness quickly fading.
And still, Harry said nothing. He felt his fingers giving off little spasms, little jolts that were sending signals to his brain. Yes, my body is still very much working and yes, my mind is still able to feel the utmost pain I’ve ever gone through.
“Does it hurt worse than your stupid scar?” Draco taunted. “Or is it the feeling of violation that you just can’t stand?” He sneered and spat directly in Harry’s face, smearing it in roughly with his blood stained hand. He walked back behind Harry, whose heart sank like an anchor. There was no way out. He didn’t have his wand, he was bound magically by ropes and the one who was behind it all: Draco fucking Malfoy. He couldn’t give up, he couldn’t cry and he couldn’t beg. But for all his bravery and resistance, he couldn’t fight back either. He was utterly helpless.
“If you’re still not ready to open up...” Draco trailed off. Harry screwed his eyes, getting ready for the cruel plant to cut him up again. He was sure that this time he would die if it entered him. He let his eyes open up into narrow slits, squinting through them. He wanted to die. Didn’t he?
But the light stayed on. And Harry heard a scrambling of someone getting on the table with him.
“NO!” he roared, thrashing his body about violently. He twisted every which way for a couple of seconds before being stunned to a stillness by a hard punch aimed right at the centre of his injured hole.
“Stop that silliness at once,” Draco ordered, wriggling out of his trousers and pulling down his boxers. His cock had been straining against the fabric of his pants from the moment of seeing Harry bound in ropes. He wasn’t queer. Far from it, he was straight as an arrow. But the sight of seeing Harry, Harry fucking Potter, the golden boy-who-lived at his mercy drove him wild. His erection was begging to be taken care of and he wanted to do it in the cruellest possible way. His cock gave a twinge of excitement at the mere thought of hurting Harry even more and he felt sure that as soon as it touched any part of his skin, he would climax right there and then.
He positioned himself carefully, his cock pointing directly up Harry’s torn up hole. It would fit easily in there without any form of lubrication, thanks to the viciousness of the devils snare, and if it didn’t... well, the screams of pain would just make the rape more enjoyable. Without warning, he thrust the entire length of his cock up Harry’s arse, feeling the blood juices against his cock and enjoying the squishing sounds it was making. Forget lubrication, Harry’s blood was enough.
Harry’s fucking blood. This drove Draco wild, and he fucked faster and faster, not only on account of his horniness, but he wanted to at least hear Harry emit one scream. He couldn’t be that deadened. He fucked him rougher, trying to thrust his cock in directions that the devils snare had only begun to push in, but his hard-on got the better of him and he felt himself getting ready to climax. Leaning up slightly, he drew back a fist and punched Harry hard in the lower small of his back. Harry’s body reacted to the hit as expected and clenched. Tightness was what Draco needed and he came as soon as Harry’s arse muscles wrapped around his cock.
He shuddered for a moment and gave his cock a few more short thrusts. Then he lay his chest on top of Harry’s back and spoke in a low voice as close to his ear as he could. “I’m in you, Potter. I’ve just been in you and from now on, a part of me will always be in you. How does it feel, eh? To be violated like this? It feels fucking great for me. I’ve had the greatest pleasure in taking you. That hole is going to take a lot of healing - I doubt even the strongest of spells will be able to fix that damage. And everyday that you have to suffer from it, every pain that you feel, even the slightest bit, remember me in you.”
Harry let out a sob despite himself. He really didn’t want to give Malfoy the satisfaction of seeing him break, but he couldn’t help it. The words rang in his ears and he knew that no matter how hard he would try and block it out, it was true. Malfoy had been in him and he was a part of him forever now, no matter if his arse healed or not. Trying to stop the flow of tears that were threatening to pour, he tried to block the images from his mind.
Malfoy pulled his flaccid cock from Harry’s abused entrance but still lay on top of him, wriggling closer so he could whisper properly, right in Harry’s ear, getting into the essence of his mind.
“I’m always going to be in you, Potter. For ever and ever.”
Harry caught an angry sob in his throat.
“Forever...” His voice didn’t hold any trace of glee in it that time around.
Scooting off the table, Malfoy walked around to Harry’s entrance and roughly poked two fingers inside his violated passage. Scooping out a lumpy texture that could have been blood, cum or organs that were ripped from Harry’s insides, he made his way back over to Harry’s restricted carved arm. He stroked the etchings carefully, rubbing the unknown substance against the wounds. Compared to what he’d been through, Harry barely felt it.
“Siri...us,” Draco completed. He was thoughtful for a moment, before inspecting the next name.
“James.” He locked his jaw. “Your father.” He was silent for a while, before he continued his speech. “Do you want to know a story about my father?” he asked Harry, his voice noticeably shriller. “He got sent to Azkaban. I wasn’t worried. Why should I have been, there were no dementors guarding the place anymore. I thought he’d been out in no time. And he was. But he was killed no less than two months later.” His voice wobbled dangerously with that last sentence. “I guess you’d know though, since you were the one that put him there.”
“Lily,” he said in a cracked voice, looking at the etching on Harry’s arm before releasing it with contempt. “Your mother. Mine followed my father round obediently, hardly ever said a word round the house when he was there. But when he wasn’t, we shared some happy times. I loved her. She’s the only person I had ever loved and will ever love in my life. She died six weeks ago. Suicide. Didn’t think it was Slytherin behaviour, dying in a cowardly way like that, yet when you think about it, suicide is rather selfish. Fits her perfectly.”
“And then there’s me.” Draco’s voice fell.
“And then there’s me,” he repeated quietly.
He didn’t seem to know what to do after this statement and looked around rather confusedly before bending down half-heartedly to pull up his trousers. He cast a sideways glance at Harry. Grabbing his wand, he muttered an incoherent incantation and made his way to the door. Harry felt the restriction from the ropes gone as they fell limply to the sides. Harry shifted an arm tentatively, and then slowly moved every part of his body that he could.
“I’m going to fucking kill you, Malfoy,” he threatened through gritted teeth from the jarring pains.
Draco turned to him, his eyes shining with tears and gave him a woeful smile. Even given the unhappiness behind it, the smile made him look a lot nicer.
“You can break me all you want, but you can’t kill what’s already dead, Potter.”
Harry stared for a while before shifting his arm in front of him, peering at it through his bloodstained spectacles. He traced the cuts of his loved ones with a delicate finger and looked up at Draco’s leaving form as he made his way out of the room.
“And I can’t break what’s already broken, Malfoy,” he whispered.
Title: Broken
Author: idontgiveafaux
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Draco/Harry
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Raped by devils snare. MWHAHAHA
Summary: Draco swore revenge when Lucius was sent to Azkaban...
Word count: 3,300
Harry Potter’s eyes fluttered open hazily, but for all he could see, it wasn’t worth it. The pounding headache that was currently drum rolling inside his brain was the cause of his blurry vision, he suspected.
“Put him on the table.”
Woozy as he was, Harry stiffened. He could recognise that voice from anywhere, and it belonged to a person he had been trying to avoid all term. As he tried to turn his head to take a look, without going too quickly to avoid upsetting the jarring dull ache in his neck, his view was shaken violently. He felt his body being lifted from the floor, and bounced around while being held by someone. The headache racketed from wall to wall in his head and he shut his eyes and gritted his teeth as he thought it would explode with pain at any given moment.
He felt himself being ungraciously dumped onto a hard surface, his chin connecting violently with wood, making his eyes leak salty tears. He pushed the pain factor aside and tried to concentrate on the current situation. Slowly willing his arm to move, he crept it down the side of his body, feeling about for his wand in his robe pockets to find it wasn’t in there. A smirk was executed behind him.
“We’ll have none of that,” the familiar voice drawled and Harry felt his whole body tighten as restricted ropes bound him to the table. He tried moving every muscle in his body, but found he could only move the very tips of his fingers. Carefully timed footsteps echoed from the stone floor as his captor walked around him admiringly. Harry struggled desperately against the strong hold, but it was no use. Malfoy had obviously planned this right and the chance of escaping rapidly slimmed down to zero.
Unable to move his head, Harry was forced to stare crotch-level at his nemesis, before Malfoy slowly bent down to a crouching position to make eye contact with him. Harry felt a cold fury sweep over him as he was forced to stare into those slate grey eyes. His whole body shook with unsuppressed rage but the strong ropes held him steadfast.
“Well, well, well. To think that you - the famous golden boy - could be captured so easily,” Malfoy said silkily, his lip curling into his trademark sneer. “Who knew that the key to capturing precious little Potter was to attack him with physical force, rather than wasting time with magic?” At the mention of physical force, Malfoy’s eyes wandered from Harry and focused behind him.
“You’ve done excellent work. I shall see to him personally myself. You can go now.” His voice sounded devoid of emotion, but it was music to the ears of Crabbe and Goyle, as they exited the room to the left of Harry who could just about see their oafish figures leave from the corner of his eye. He shut them tightly, not wanting to have to stare at the sight of Malfoy straight ahead of him.
“Not so brave now, are we Gryffindor?” He taunted.
“Fuck you, Malfoy.”
Draco tutted. “That’s not a nice way to talk to someone who has you at their mercy, is it Potter?”
Harry simply squeezed his eyes tighter in reply. How could he have gotten himself into this fucking mess? The last thing he could remember was sitting in that bathroom. The Slytherin bathroom. He hadn’t cared either; he just needed refuge from his own house. He needed somewhere private to conduct his self-destruction. But why couldn’t he have chosen the Ravenclaw bathroom? Why couldn’t he have chosen the Hufflepuff bathroom to carve the names into his arm? The bloody etchings of ‘Lily’ and ‘James’ were most likely still there, along with a half-finished ‘Sirius’. He hadn’t finished that one as a big shadow had loomed over him. He might have seen the stomp to his head coming if he hadn’t been so weak. If he hadn’t been shaking so much from the loss of blood, from the loss of feeling, he might have been able to prevent it all. Now the wish that he half wished would come true depended on his enemy. Whether he lived in torment or died in vain depended on Malfoy. His future was going to be so poetic.
The footsteps began to echo around the room again and Harry opened his eyes to find himself staring at a stone wall. He had no doubts that he was in the Slytherin dungeons.
“It’s quite dark in here, isn’t it?” Malfoy drawled from behind him. As much as Harry didn’t want to see him, he didn’t feel at all comfortable with not being able to see him. He squirmed helplessly against the ropes that refused to relent and continued to do their job of restraining him tightly.
“Though I must say, it’s not nearly as dark enough as I like it. I have this on, for a start,” he said, brandishing his lumosed wand around, making shadows dance and dart around submissively against the room. His footsteps drew nearer, though they didn’t come to the spot where Harry was forced to stare, instead choosing to stop at his blood-ridden arm.
“My, what pretty graffiti you’ve drawn,” Malfoy said mock-appreciatively. “These names must be pretty important to you for you to vandalise your skin like this. Let’s see, what does this one say?”
Harry felt the cold touch of Malfoy’s fingers against his skin and he desperately tried to pull away, but to no avail. Malfoy had a tight grip around his wrist and forced it to turn a little so he could see the carvings Harry had made.
“Lily? That sounds familiar ... wait ... your mother?”
Harry bit down hard on his bottom lip to stop him cracking in front of Malfoy. That’s just what he wants...
“And let’s see ... this one says ... James? Your father, I presume.”
Harry felt a river of blood swim into his mouth, courtesy of his bitten lip.
“And the last one ... Siri … Siri? I don’t know who this ‘Siri’ is, Potter, perhaps you’d like to explain?”
Harry didn’t know how much more he could take.
Draco leaned in close to Harry’s ear. “Are you going to open up for me, Potter?” he whispered, hot breath laced with cold words brushing down Harry’s neck in a concoction of fiery frostiness.
Silence.
Then, calculated footsteps as Draco walked out of Harry’s view again. Harry felt his trousers being yanked down, and it was at this point that he really tried to fight against the magically unrelenting ropes.
“It’s no use Potter,” Draco’s voice drawled above the hopeless and frustrated sounds of Harry desperately trying to escape. He took a step back and watched, arms folded with an amused expression on his face, as Harry bucked his hips and tried to thrash about in the hope of releasing just a single limb, at least. After a couple of minutes, he gave up, his body slumping against the table in defeat. Draco calmly took a step forward and continued pulling down his trousers.
“Going commando, I like it!” Draco sneered, giving Harry’s bare arse a stinging slap that reverberated all around the room and rang tauntingly in Harry’s ears. “As I was saying earlier,” he continued, waving around his wand, making the shadows dance obediently again, “I don’t like light. Not really, I much prefer the dark. You see, some things really come out in the dark. In fact, everything comes out in the dark. Secrets, lies, betrayal...”
Harry was sure he heard his voice wobble slightly on that last word. “I don’t know why,” Draco continued, his calm drawl right back on track. “Maybe it’s because people can’t see in the dark, and feel less guilty about exposing their true feelings? The fact that they can’t see who they’re talking too makes it less real somehow. Almost as if you’re talking to yourself, sharing secrets with your mind. Yes,” he said decidedly, “I like the dark. I like it a lot.”
“If I turn off the light Potter,” he whispered, giving his wand a quick shake in indication, “will you open up to me?”
Harry didn’t reply, save from a slight gasp as he felt something eager and cold pressed against the tight hole in his arse, stroking it slightly with sharp edges.
“You’ll open up,” Draco sneered. This time it was a statement. He muttered an incantation that killed off the lighting spell formed on the tip of his wand. Almost simultaneously, Harry felt something rip his hole apart mercilessly. He screamed out loud as this thing forced itself up inside his arse, uncaring about the cuts it was delivering to the inside walls of his anus. He screamed again as it forced itself deeper, touching on a spot that made Harry’s dick harden instantly against the table despite the pain factor. It touched on the spot again and Harry felt a mixture of vomiting and climaxing at the same time. The screams echoed from wall to wall as this cruel penetration continued, darting anywhere that it could, forcing itself to make Harry’s arse his own. His vision blurred, and he didn’t have the energy to scream anymore as it continued to cut, deeper and deeper...
“Lumos,” came the sharp command, and as quickly as it had penetrated his soul, the thing that had occupied his insides fell limp and shrivelled out miserably. He vaguely heard a cruel laugh emitted from Malfoy, and barely registered a hand stroking the torn up hole in his arse.
“I think devils snare loves the dark as much as I do, Potter,” Draco snickered. He walked round to Harry’s front, and Harry, almost passing out from the sheer pain that the plant had given him, couldn’t muster the strength to shut his eyes. He saw the slate grey eyes that stared past his face and into his mind. For a moment, Harry could feel. A shudder involuntarily coursed through the entire length of his body and he felt very afraid of Draco Malfoy at that moment.
As if sensing this, Draco’s lips curled into a sinister grin. He waved the hand that had caressed Harry’s arse in front of him, and Harry blearily saw it was covered in a coat of crimson. It reached closer and closer to him, before wiping itself all over Harry’s face, violating his skin with the own blood taken so unwillingly from his body. All over Draco marked him, running the red fingers through his hair, smearing his glasses with it and applying a layer of blood-red lipstick against his lips, giving them a swollen look.
Draco admired his handiwork thoughtfully. “Very nice,” he concluded, before breaking into a harsh bark of laughter.
Harry swallowed back a churning and burning pool of vomit that was slowly rising to his stomach.
“Now let’s try again,” Draco said, adopting the earlier honeyed tones that he had used. “I want to know about these people, Potter.”
Even if Harry could have answered him, he wouldn’t have. He wouldn’t want to give him the fucking satisfaction of submitting to him. Every bone in his body was pulsating with aches and pains like he’d never felt before, but he wouldn’t obey Malfoy. Not for anything. These people were private. These people were his. These people were the driving force for him to curl up and die so he could join them.
“Answer me,” Draco roared, his coolness quickly fading.
And still, Harry said nothing. He felt his fingers giving off little spasms, little jolts that were sending signals to his brain. Yes, my body is still very much working and yes, my mind is still able to feel the utmost pain I’ve ever gone through.
“Does it hurt worse than your stupid scar?” Draco taunted. “Or is it the feeling of violation that you just can’t stand?” He sneered and spat directly in Harry’s face, smearing it in roughly with his blood stained hand. He walked back behind Harry, whose heart sank like an anchor. There was no way out. He didn’t have his wand, he was bound magically by ropes and the one who was behind it all: Draco fucking Malfoy. He couldn’t give up, he couldn’t cry and he couldn’t beg. But for all his bravery and resistance, he couldn’t fight back either. He was utterly helpless.
“If you’re still not ready to open up...” Draco trailed off. Harry screwed his eyes, getting ready for the cruel plant to cut him up again. He was sure that this time he would die if it entered him. He let his eyes open up into narrow slits, squinting through them. He wanted to die. Didn’t he?
But the light stayed on. And Harry heard a scrambling of someone getting on the table with him.
“NO!” he roared, thrashing his body about violently. He twisted every which way for a couple of seconds before being stunned to a stillness by a hard punch aimed right at the centre of his injured hole.
“Stop that silliness at once,” Draco ordered, wriggling out of his trousers and pulling down his boxers. His cock had been straining against the fabric of his pants from the moment of seeing Harry bound in ropes. He wasn’t queer. Far from it, he was straight as an arrow. But the sight of seeing Harry, Harry fucking Potter, the golden boy-who-lived at his mercy drove him wild. His erection was begging to be taken care of and he wanted to do it in the cruellest possible way. His cock gave a twinge of excitement at the mere thought of hurting Harry even more and he felt sure that as soon as it touched any part of his skin, he would climax right there and then.
He positioned himself carefully, his cock pointing directly up Harry’s torn up hole. It would fit easily in there without any form of lubrication, thanks to the viciousness of the devils snare, and if it didn’t... well, the screams of pain would just make the rape more enjoyable. Without warning, he thrust the entire length of his cock up Harry’s arse, feeling the blood juices against his cock and enjoying the squishing sounds it was making. Forget lubrication, Harry’s blood was enough.
Harry’s fucking blood. This drove Draco wild, and he fucked faster and faster, not only on account of his horniness, but he wanted to at least hear Harry emit one scream. He couldn’t be that deadened. He fucked him rougher, trying to thrust his cock in directions that the devils snare had only begun to push in, but his hard-on got the better of him and he felt himself getting ready to climax. Leaning up slightly, he drew back a fist and punched Harry hard in the lower small of his back. Harry’s body reacted to the hit as expected and clenched. Tightness was what Draco needed and he came as soon as Harry’s arse muscles wrapped around his cock.
He shuddered for a moment and gave his cock a few more short thrusts. Then he lay his chest on top of Harry’s back and spoke in a low voice as close to his ear as he could. “I’m in you, Potter. I’ve just been in you and from now on, a part of me will always be in you. How does it feel, eh? To be violated like this? It feels fucking great for me. I’ve had the greatest pleasure in taking you. That hole is going to take a lot of healing - I doubt even the strongest of spells will be able to fix that damage. And everyday that you have to suffer from it, every pain that you feel, even the slightest bit, remember me in you.”
Harry let out a sob despite himself. He really didn’t want to give Malfoy the satisfaction of seeing him break, but he couldn’t help it. The words rang in his ears and he knew that no matter how hard he would try and block it out, it was true. Malfoy had been in him and he was a part of him forever now, no matter if his arse healed or not. Trying to stop the flow of tears that were threatening to pour, he tried to block the images from his mind.
Malfoy pulled his flaccid cock from Harry’s abused entrance but still lay on top of him, wriggling closer so he could whisper properly, right in Harry’s ear, getting into the essence of his mind.
“I’m always going to be in you, Potter. For ever and ever.”
Harry caught an angry sob in his throat.
“Forever...” His voice didn’t hold any trace of glee in it that time around.
Scooting off the table, Malfoy walked around to Harry’s entrance and roughly poked two fingers inside his violated passage. Scooping out a lumpy texture that could have been blood, cum or organs that were ripped from Harry’s insides, he made his way back over to Harry’s restricted carved arm. He stroked the etchings carefully, rubbing the unknown substance against the wounds. Compared to what he’d been through, Harry barely felt it.
“Siri...us,” Draco completed. He was thoughtful for a moment, before inspecting the next name.
“James.” He locked his jaw. “Your father.” He was silent for a while, before he continued his speech. “Do you want to know a story about my father?” he asked Harry, his voice noticeably shriller. “He got sent to Azkaban. I wasn’t worried. Why should I have been, there were no dementors guarding the place anymore. I thought he’d been out in no time. And he was. But he was killed no less than two months later.” His voice wobbled dangerously with that last sentence. “I guess you’d know though, since you were the one that put him there.”
“Lily,” he said in a cracked voice, looking at the etching on Harry’s arm before releasing it with contempt. “Your mother. Mine followed my father round obediently, hardly ever said a word round the house when he was there. But when he wasn’t, we shared some happy times. I loved her. She’s the only person I had ever loved and will ever love in my life. She died six weeks ago. Suicide. Didn’t think it was Slytherin behaviour, dying in a cowardly way like that, yet when you think about it, suicide is rather selfish. Fits her perfectly.”
“And then there’s me.” Draco’s voice fell.
“And then there’s me,” he repeated quietly.
He didn’t seem to know what to do after this statement and looked around rather confusedly before bending down half-heartedly to pull up his trousers. He cast a sideways glance at Harry. Grabbing his wand, he muttered an incoherent incantation and made his way to the door. Harry felt the restriction from the ropes gone as they fell limply to the sides. Harry shifted an arm tentatively, and then slowly moved every part of his body that he could.
“I’m going to fucking kill you, Malfoy,” he threatened through gritted teeth from the jarring pains.
Draco turned to him, his eyes shining with tears and gave him a woeful smile. Even given the unhappiness behind it, the smile made him look a lot nicer.
“You can break me all you want, but you can’t kill what’s already dead, Potter.”
Harry stared for a while before shifting his arm in front of him, peering at it through his bloodstained spectacles. He traced the cuts of his loved ones with a delicate finger and looked up at Draco’s leaving form as he made his way out of the room.
“And I can’t break what’s already broken, Malfoy,” he whispered.