Chapter 3
Draco woke up in his bed, unable to move. At first, he panicked, thinking that he had been cursed. Then his dream, no his memory, came back, and it was even worse…
The pain in his backside as something big was thrusted into his hole…
His master’s smiling face as he begged for it to stop…
His father’s hands on either side of his, so familiar and so foreign. He tried to focus on the details of the hands to forget what was happening…
His father’s sweat pooling on his back…
His tears blinding his vision, his snot dropping to the ground in time with the brusque movements of his body…
The warmth pooling inside of him and the relief at knowing that it was now over…
The despair when his master cast “rennervate” and gave his father an unknown potion to drink…
Draco regaining consciousness, and thinking this had all been a nightmare, until he realised that it was still happening and that his lord had just brought him back for his amusement…
It lasted all day and all night. When their lord was finally satisfied, his father had come to completion so many times that his belly was swollen. They both had to be ordered via imperius to get up and back to their chambers because they couldn't find the strength to move. But the worst of his whole ordeal had been the look in his father’s eyes as they left the chamber. It was not one of compassion, or of sadness, but of lust. His father had been a willing participant. Maybe not at the end, because it had been torture for him too, but he had enjoyed it. His father had ENJOYED raping him in front of their master!
The little spark of hope that Draco held that this would be a one-time deal, an initiation of sorts, was shattered a few days later when he was called to his master’s bed in the middle of the night. He was again ordered on his hands and knees on the bed, but also to close his eyes and not to open them until told to. Then a man came into the room silently and used him roughly. When he was done, the dark lord dismissed him, and a second man came in. He was used again, and again, and again, by different men. His master’s men. All the while he screamed and begged for it to stop, not knowing who he was begging because he couldn’t see them and they wouldn't, or couldn’t, answer his cries. After the 18th man had come and gone, Draco was finally released from the imperius and collapsed on the bed. Everything hurt, from his forehead, that he had banged on the headboard at some point, to his toes that had curled so tight that he could hardly move them.
“Open your eyes and sit up Draco, I want to talk to you.”
Draco struggled to do so, but the Dark Lord did not help him, preferring to pin him with his gaze until the teenager was sitting straight in all of the fluids left on the bed.
“Do you know, young man, how a war is won?” He asked.
“No, my Lord” Draco’s hoarse voice answered.
“To win a war, you need an exceptional leader, me, but you also need soldiers. My death eaters are all the soldiers I need, but sometimes, they need some… extra motivations, shall we say, to stay obedient to my orders.”
Draco nodded silently to show that he was listening, while trying not to panic at what he dreaded was coming.
“Do you know of the human basic needs? To eat, to drink, to defecate and… to put it simply, to fuck.” Draco shuddered, but his master didn’t notice and kept going. “I could torture them all I want, but nothing is as effective as using the basic needs to get someone to comply. But refusing food or water to a soldier can make his body weak. Controlling when they fuck however, that I can do. And this is how you will be useful to me.”
The Dark Lord lifted Draco’s chin, like he had the first time he had called him to his chambers.
“This is an honor. You will be the only source of pleasure for my death eaters. They will only think of you when they pleasure themselves, only be able to use you to relieve their stress. In return, you will be here, safe, in the manor, for the rest of your days. I will take care of you like you take care of my soldiers and you will never be hurt. This is my gift to you Draco.”
The Dark Lord roughly kissed him before sending him back to his rooms where Draco simply sat, not yet processing what had happened, but dreading his future
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Harry had just finished his chores for the day. When he came back inside, making sure not to track dirt from the garden unless he wanted to wash the floors again, he saw the plain toast that had been left out for him as a reward. Something to eat! Harry knew, in the back of his mind, that being excited by plain toast was not normal, but he hadn't eaten in four days and this seemed like the best meal in the world at the moment. Wanting to savour it in peace, Harry took the plate up to his room.
He ate slowly, having learned a long time ago the consequences of eating too fast when he had been hungry for a long time, and laid on his back when he was finished, almost content. But what was this noise? It sounded like someone… crying? But nobody was home, he knew it, and, anyway, crying was something that was forbidden in this house. Harry hadn't heard anyone cry here for years…
Focusing on the noise, Harry searched his room, only to find that it was coming from his battered nightstand. He opened it slowly, wishing he could have his wand to protect himself. The only thing in his drawer was his mirror, that was not supposed to activate since the person on the other end was dead. And yet, there was clearly someone crying. Picking it up, Harry tried to determine who it was, but the person was in the dark and all Harry could see through his fragment was a pair of gray eyes.
"I can't do this anymore. It hurts too much! And it's going to be even worse tomorrow, I just know it…"
“Um… Hi.” Harry said awkwardly. The person on the other end went silent instantly, but Harry continued. “I don’t know who you are since I can only see your eyes, but you sound like you need help.”
“I don’t need anything from you, Potter”.
So a slytherin has my mirror. Huh! I wonder how that happened…
“Maybe not from me, but you sound like you need help anyway.”
Silence stretched between the two before a weak “Yes” resounded from the boy with the gray eyes.
“Is someone hurting you?” Harry asked.
“Is someone hurting you?” the boy retorted, sounding bristled. “The mirror works both ways, you know.”
Has he heard me talking to Sirius every night?
“Fair enough.”
Silence stretched again.
“I could send a letter to Snape for you maybe?”
“Why? Why Snape? I could be a Hufflepuff!” The voice sounded panicked.
“I guess so? I told you, I can only see your eyes. I don’t know who you are. But not many people outside of Slytherin talk to me like you do, so I guessed. Was I wrong?”
“No.” the voice answered after a pause.
“Okay. So, should I send a letter to Snape? Or Dumbledore?” Harry insisted.
“I don’t see what good it could do. Definitely not Dumbledore in any case. But Professor Snape… I don’t think he could get me out of this situation either.”
If Snape can’t help him, it must be really serious. But why? Why couldn’t he help him? Snape’s a death eater, he can scare a lot of adults into behaving. Unless…
“I’m going to ask this question only once, and you don’t have to answer it, okay?” Harry murmured into the glass.
“Know that I probably won’t answer your question then, but go and ask it, Potter”.
Harry took a breath, then another. He felt like this tentative trust between was very fragile and he didn’t want to break it, but at the same time, he needed to.
“The person who hurt you…” he began.
“People, not person” The boy interrupted.
Harry’s eyes widened in shock, but he continued. “The people who hurt you, are they… following orders from someone else?” It was as close as Harry could get to the question he really wanted to ask ‘Were you raped by Voldemort?’ But of course, he couldn't put it like that.
The boy with the gray eyes didn’t answer for a long time. So long that Harry had almost started to fall asleep, tired from his long day as he was. But as his eyes closed on their own, he heard, or maybe dreamed, a whispered “Yes.”.