Scindere

Hicc. Sh- hicc.

Harry wasn't sure when he'd woken up, nor could he tell when he'd even opened his eyes with the room still being pitch black, but the next thing he heard since falling asleep were muffled sobs and hiccups coming from the oblivion.

"Is th-" His voice cracked so high he cringed. The sobs stopped instantly. "Is that you?" He repeated, letting his head roll over in the direction of where the noise had been.

Shaky breaths filled the room, getting louder and louder until they were right above his head.

"Who ar-"

"Silencio."

Harry's lips snapped shut and his tongue shot to the roof of his mouth. A hand slammed down on his mouth like a punch to the teeth, clammy and tight against his skin. Fingernails scratched into one side of his cheeks, the other pressed in painfully with a thumb. He muffled a shocked groan.

Hicc. Hicc.

Somewhere in the darkness, water was dripping rhythmically onto the ground, hard, hard, hard, and so loud. It ticked against his ears.

Hicc. Snff.

The hand around his mouth tightened and brought his head up and then shoved it back down. Harry was glad he was laying on something soft.

The hand released him, a long, sharp fingernail dragged from his cheek and down his throat. He inhaled hard through his nose.

"Finite." The man said, releasing the silencing spell.

Harry swallowed, the fingernail digging down against his bobbing adams apple. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, uncomfortably aware of the bead of sweat slipping down his forehead and the heat radiating off the mans fingers. Something about the darkness, the deafening silence, the platter of water droplets, and the breathing, so sticky and awful and reverberating against his ear drums, it all awoke not just panic within him, but dread. The same dread he remembered when he was 17, on the run from Voldemort, always running. And always being hunted.

Hck.

Harry listened to the man clear up his throat up. Then he leaned down, breathing through his nose so Harry felt it on his lashes, and a wet strand of saliva dripped to his cheek and ran down to his earlobe. Harry swallowed hard again.

"You don't know how long I've waited for this, Harry Potter." The man bit out into his ear. It was the same voice as the man from the bar, but at the same time, it was nothing like it. Bitter and viscid, like his mouth was full of syrup and his lips were thinnly coated in oil so there was a soft pop every time his lips parted. It gave Harry the heebie jeebies.

"What do you want?" Harry tried to mask the shake in his voice best he could, but a quiver slipped out.

"Something that you can't give me." The man said, removing his hand from Harry's throat.

"Then why am I here?"

"Because there are things you can give me." A hand came down to his bare stomach and ran up to his sternum.

"Who are you?"

Muffled sobs reemerged, the hand above Harry's sternum clamped down, fingers pushing into the indent between his clavicle and neck. "I don't know. I don't know, I don't know." He moaned, his words sticking to the back of his throat. "I hate you, Harry Potter. I hate you." Harry heard dull slaps and mournful groans from the man.

Shit. I was kidnapped by a lunatic.

The slaps subsided and rustling fabric ensued. "Crucio."

"NO!" Harry's body jumped at the word, bracing himself instantly. But nothing came except a pounding heart.

"Fuck. Crucio."

Nothing.

"Crucio. Crucio! Crucio!"

Harry laid still, regaining his breath. "I guess you can't hate me that much, then." He muttered, almost amusingly, while coming down from his high.

Slap.

"OW!- FUCK." Harry rubbed his cheek into his shoulder.

"Do you find something funny, Harry Potter? Don't worry. I don't need a spell to hurt you. There are many ways to break a body."

Another hard slap seared fire into his other cheek. He felt the tangling of hands atop his belt, ripping it off uncouthly and snapping one of the front loops on his jeans.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He said, kicking against his binds as the man struggled to get his pants down. "STOP!"

The man frustratingly vanished Harry's  pants after struggling for many embarrassingly long minutes and even spending a few just hitting at Harry's thighs. Harry laid staring up into the darkness, feeling almost pitiful for the irrate man, except he was tearing his pants off so he couldn't feel that sympathetic.

Harry had spent a vast majority of the last ten years of his life doing nothing but letting himself have fun. As horrible as his current situation was, he was beginning to find it just ridiculous. He was stuck, blinded and bound in a musty room with a dreadful man who was ripping his pants off and crying all the while. He closed his eyes and drew his brows together.

Why is peace so fleeting.

"Wait, stop-- shit." The man slipped his hand into Harry's underwear and he felt it ice cold against his prick. He hissed out at the sensation. "FUCK-- WHAT ARE YOU-"

"Urgh." Upon pulling Harry's cock fully out, the man let out a strained groan and retched. "Fuck. . . I think I'm going to throw up."

Harry turned his head and tried to cover his face into the mattress, his skin blazing hot. He was mad, furious even, but his body burned with humiliation. He bit down on his cheek, tasting iron melting warmly across his tongue.

Then a clammy hand clenched down on the base of his cock, the coldness locking his balls. It twisted upwards clumsily. He bit down harder. It was disgusting.

"Asshole. You obviously aren't enjoying this so why are you doing it." Harry bit out, his jaw trembling furiously as the man retched again.

"Because you aren't enjoying it either." The man hissed back, his hand contricting painfully onto Harry's shaft, making him buck up and yelp.

"Please-" He huffed out. "Stop- oh, fuck-"

The mans mouth came down roughly on Harry's cock, immediately rushing it to the back of his throat. The man gagged and choked, but refused to pull it up. Harry shouted obscenities, not remembering a single one, as his cock pressed hard and bent against the man's teeth.

"Wait!" He ripped at his binds, crying out as the man continued choking sloppily at the base of his cock, his tongue falling wet into the crevice between his balls and lower shaft. Harry felt the hot, putrid wetness of chunky saliva on the underside of his cock and he almost threw up himself.

Finally the man pulled his head up, gasping and coughing, screaming out in anger and sobbing angrily against the mattress. Harry stayed staring upwards, his face burning and his throat full of puke.  He cock was dropped soggily against his thigh, he didn't think it'd ever been softer.

More dull slaps came from the darkness. And then footsteps. Quieter and quieter.

The door slammed shut and the ring echoed around the room for a while.

What the fuck.