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Spellbound: Summer Vacation

Spellbound 3: Summer Vacation
Rated: Nc-17 Non-consensual sex, Angst.
Archive: Please ask first.
Email: amalthia@slashcity.com
Feedback: Love it.
Spoilers: Up to 5th book.
Disclaimers: None of this universe belongs to me.
Author Note: This story has been in progress for two years. I had the help of many people and they know who they are. I'm still editing the rest of the story and I'm posting parts as I finish editing them. When I complete the story I'll post it in 1 part. For now this is still considered a WIP.


Spellbound 3: Summer Vacation

Clinking of glass woke Draco; he lay still and tried to catch his dream before it drifted away with consciousness. Draco felt the warmth of the fire flickering with life in a fireplace. The silk sheets stuck to his naked belly with sweat. Draco frowned, confused, his bed didn't have silk sheets, and he always slept in pajamas, his father would beat him if he found him sleeping without clothes on.

Draco opened his eyes, rolled onto his side, and propped himself up on one arm. A small fire about five feet from the bed barely cast light in the room. He strained to see past the shadows surrounding the bed, to find the noise that woke him. It was silent now except for the crackle of fire eating the log. He knew this was not his room at Malfoy Manor, nor was it his dorm room at Hogwarts. Draco swung his legs over the side of the bed, his head swam from the effort and he could not remember where he was or how he had arrived, but his instincts clamored at him to run. A dry chuckle from the darkness froze his blood and dried his mouth.

"Who’s there?" Draco croaked his throat ached.

"Ah you’ve forgotten so soon. I’m hurt and here I was waiting for you to wake up so we could continue our fun."

The low voice brought back Draco’s memories like a tidal wave; he whimpered with fear. A small rush of adrenaline gave him the strength to stand but with one step, his foot caught on something hard and metallic. Draco crashed to the rug-covered floor. Stunned from the hard fall he froze and waited for Voldemort. Memories from the afternoon floated into his mind like wisps of dreams he barely remembered. Flashes of hands ghosting along his chest, and the smell of rotting flesh, and the red eyes looming over him engraved themselves into his mind. He had to move.

He moved to his knees carefully, blinded in the dim light.

"Voldemort, I know you are there. What do you want from me?" Draco demanded, as strongly as his voice would allow.

Suddenly the room was flooded with light. In the brightness of the overhead lamp, the stark reality of his predicament hit home. The metal object on the floor was a piece of a long chain that ran from one end of the room to the other, held close to the floor by iron rings screwed into the floorboards. Draco turned around to follow the chain and saw that it ran throughout the entire room with other chains intersecting and forming knots in some places. The bed also had its own set of chains with dark iron handcuffs at each of the four corners. The metal facilitated different positions, including a set of dangling handcuffs from the ceiling. At last, his gaze came to rest on Voldemort who stood by the one entrance into the room, a wooden door with symbols on it. The man was clothed in a black robe with dragons twined in gold patterning the sleeves.

"You are even more remarkable with my marks on you." Voldemort eyed him appraisingly.

Shuddering, Draco moved to cover his nakedness.

Voldemort walked closer, he easily stepped over the various chain links, until he stood in front of Draco. His thighs close to Draco's mouth. "Draco, lift your hands. I want to see all of you."

Draco shook his head and drew back; his head hit the mattress and stopped. Please let this be a dream Draco prayed. Not able to look away from Voldemort’s leather clad legs or steel tipped boots.

"I’ll say it once more, show yourself to me." This time Voldemort’s order held an edge of danger. The steel tip boots moved closer to him, there was not any room for Draco to stand up; he turned his face away as Voldemort pressed closer.

"No." Draco said firmly. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach from fear, not knowing how Voldemort would react to his defiance, yet recklessly not caring.

Voldemort's red eyes flared with fury and in a flash, his steel tipped boot kicked him, hard; hands grabbed his hair and forced him to his feet. Scalp on fire Draco’s hands went to his head to grab at Voldemort’s fingers to pry his hair free. Voldemort shook him back and forth and then shoved him away. Bouncing on the mattress from the force of the impact, Draco’s head hit the metal frame of the bed. Stunned, Draco did not move. No one had ever beaten him like this before.

Blinking back tears of pain, Draco rolled onto his hands and knees and scrambled away from Voldemort’s groping hands. His efforts hampered by the plush mattress. This had to be nightmare; Draco thought despairing. This was like one of his dreams where if only he could move faster he would escape the monster, but he could not go any faster.

A firm hand grabbed his ankle, Draco screamed and twisted his foot and yanked as hard as he could but Voldemort quickly cuffed his ankle to foot of the bed. The cold cuff bit into his skin with every movement he made.

"I thought you would fight more, Draco." Voldemort said stroking Draco's bare leg. Draco felt like he ran a mile and he had barely made it to the other side of the bed.

Draco clutched the bed spread with his hands and tried to reason past the panic in his mind. Why was he letting Voldemort see him this way? This was not Draco; he was not some crybaby wimp. Malfoy’s do not cry Draco he could hear his father’s voice. Pride was all he had left and he would be damned before he let Voldemort take that away.

With his newfound determination, Draco rolled over and faced Voldemort. "Why are you doing this to me? Surely there are better choices of toys?" Draco did not hide the disdain in his voice.

"Ah, so my Dragon has discovered his fangs at last." Voldemort trapped Draco’s ankle trapped between his hands. Somehow, Draco kept the revulsion off his face.

"I don’t need any reason for choosing you." Voldemort’s pale hand drifted up and down Draco’s leg, "You are a lovely young boy and you show spirit. When I am finished with you, your soul will belong to me. No one knows where you are and no one is searching for you. We will have the entire summer to get to know each other better. If you think your parents will rescue your misbegotten soul, think again. Your father gave you to me, happily; he wants you broken. He lusts after you."

Draco cringed away; horrified by Voldemort’s words, and the unsettling suggestion about his father. "I’ll do what you want. Just don’t hurt me." Draco pleaded desperately. "I know you’re more powerful than me and I want to be on your side. Please, I can be of use in other ways! I’ll do whatever you want!" Draco inwardly winced. Begging for mercy, how much lower would he fall?

"Fine, give me a blow job." Voldemort said and climbed all the way onto the bed, his robe opened showing bare flesh.

Draco took deep breaths to stay calm; this was not the time to panic. Voldemort crawled closer to him until his robe brushed against Draco's thighs. Draco's breath caught and held at the slight contact. When Voldemort knelt in front of him, the black robe held together with a thin belt, Draco breathed again. "Lay down." Voldemort commanded and Draco obeyed.

He kept his hands to his side even as Voldemort straddled his chest with his knees. Every instinct screamed at him to run, to fight, to escape, but Draco forced himself to remain silent and still, even when Voldemort completely disrobed, baring his bony chest.

Disgusted with himself and shamed beyond words, Draco opened his mouth and accepted Voldemort's cock. The gummy taste and the rank smell disgusted him but Draco managed to control his instinct to fight. He used his tongue to flick at the head and sucked at the foreign object lodged in his mouth. Skeleton like fingers threaded through his hair as Voldemort pushed deeper. Suppressing his gag reflex took an extreme amount of effort and concentration as Voldemort slipped down his throat and held there.

Draco concentrated on breathing through his nose and flung his mind away from this awful moment. He mentally listed potion ingredients and thought of his first Quidditch match, however the image of Cedric's dead body clutched in Potter's arms, a grisly reminder of Voldemort's capabilities, returned often to his memory.

The room was utterly silent except for Voldemort’s heavy breathing and his own shallow breaths, until a rough voice broke the silence. "I should have known you’d be a natural." Voldemort gasped pumping his hips. "Your father was good at cock sucking too."

He is lying, Draco thought, and dismissed Voldemort's words to concentrate solely on the task-on-hand, breathing. His jaw ached unbearably and Draco willed Voldemort to finish sooner. It must have worked, because minutes later, Voldemort sped up, and that is when Draco realized Voldemort would not pull back. Draco would have to swallow. A low whimper escaped his throat; Draco tried to use his hands to fight against the ones tangled in his hair, but Voldemort tightened his knees, and trapped Draco's arms at his sides. Draco closed his eyes. The heavy breathing in the room drowned out his whimpers.

"Oh yes," Voldemort gasped, tightening his fingers in Draco's hair.

Warm fluid slid down his throat; Draco gagged. His nose pressed against Voldemort’s sweaty pubic hair cut off his supply of air. Voldemort's cock jerked and spewed more sperm into him. The thought of punishment if he failed this task helped him control his impending panic.

Voldemort slid in and out a few more times until the organ softened in his mouth. A few more spurts of semen shot out and Draco swallowed quickly to avoid angering Voldemort.

Finally, Voldemort pulled out of his mouth leaving his organ trailing right above his lips. "I want you to lick me."

Detesting himself, Draco did not hesitate and licked every remaining trace of semen off the limp organ. Voldemort leaned back with a satisfied grin. "You surprised me, Draco. This may not be as painful an experience as I anticipated for you."

Draco sat slowly after Voldemort climbed off him, his muscles sore and stiff. Blood drained from his lips. He crossed his arms over his chest, cold. Draco watched silently as Voldemort retied his robe. "Sadly I don’t have much time right now to enjoy all that you are offering Draco, but don’t worry I’ll be back. Oh but before I go…" He paused near the door; a wand lay on a table holding a lamp. Voldemort picked it up. "I thought I should leave you with a parting gift until we meet again, Crucio!"

Draco’s world exploded into blinding agony.


Inarticulate screams bolted Ron straight from sleep to his feet in three seconds flat. In the dark, Ron could make out Malfoy thrashing against his covers, convulsing.

"Will someone shut him up?" Neville asked and pulled his pillow over his head.

Harry stood next to him for a few seconds before Ron registered his presence. "You’d think his own screaming would wake him up." Harry said in a faint voice, he made no move to help Draco.

Ron hid his surprise at Harry’s reaction. He knew Harry hated Malfoy, but he wanted to stop whatever it was that caused those types of screams.

Ron knew he had to wake Malfoy, especially if he wanted to get any more sleep tonight. "Malfoy, wake up." Ron said loudly. He did not want to touch Malfoy, though the other boy's sweat-soaked body shook, limbs ridged with tension. His voice did not get through to Malfoy, so he quickly shook Malfoy’s shoulder. "Malfoy, get up you’re having a nightmare."

The screams abruptly stopped and Malfoy sat up in bed so quickly, Ron jumped back in fright. Malfoy’s chest heaved as if he had just run ten kilometers, Ron could not remember seeing Malfoy this panicked, his eyes were wide with confusion as if trying to remember where he was.

"Malfoy...Draco, are you awake?" Ron asked hesitantly, worried that Malfoy would start acting crazy again. "Um you’re safe."

Abruptly, Malfoy swung his legs over the side of the bed and ran out the room. Ron glanced towards Harry; the other boy stared back at him and shrugged his shoulders. Ron knew with that one gesture that Harry planned to stay in their room. "Come on Harry, we can’t just let him run all over the place. Someone has to watch out for him and his tricks. Besides, if anything happens to him, my ass is fried. Professor Snape would kill me."

"Ron, it’s late and Malfoy does not look like he’s in any position to sabotage our house or be attacked by anyone. I am going to bed; if you want to follow him then it is your choice. I’m not going to let him ruin my sleep too."


Ron stalked out of the room, thinking he would have to chase Malfoy halfway to Hogsmeade before he found the other boy. Instead, just as he passed the bathroom, he heard retching. Sighing, Ron pushed open the door and quietly entered. He saw Malfoy kneeling in front of one of the toilets puking his guts out. In the bathrooms, dim lights he saw Malfoy’s entire body shake like a leaf, and the trembling in Malfoy’s hand as it rose to pull the lever to flush the toilet.

When Malfoy sniffed back tears, Ron fought to suppress any feelings of sympathy. This boy had harassed him for four years.

"Malfoy?" Ron hesitated, not sure what to say to someone who woke up screaming from nightmares.

"Go away, Muggle-lover." Malfoy’s hoarse voice lacked its usual bite.

"I can’t, idiot. I have to make sure you get back to our room safely." Ron did not let Malfoy’s insult bother him. As much as he hated Malfoy, he could not pick on him while he was down like this.

With care, Malfoy stood up. "Fine but I need a shower; it would help if you got me some clean clothes to wear."

Ron sighed heavily; he did not want dig through Malfoy’s clothes, however after watching Malfoy undress with slow listless movements, Ron realized the extent of Draco's exhaustion. "I’ll be back," Ron said and slipped out the door.


Relieved at Weasley’s departure, Draco turned on the shower and stepped under the hot spray. Tremors shook his body, the force of the dream still lingered in his system; his stomach muscles ached from dry heaving, and the rest of him ached from convulsing in agony. Draco closed his eyes and turned his face into the water, it stung, but he did not mind he opened his mouth letting it fill with water, washing out the taste of bile and semen. The image of white semen coming out of his mouth flashed into his head, Draco flinched and shuddered again. It was impossible what he saw, and yet when he flushed the commode it was there, floating on the surface. The taste lingered in his mouth.

After rinsing his mouth out a few more times, Draco turned off the shower and stood still, the dripping of draining water the only sound in the echoing bathroom. The creak of the bathroom door distracted him briefly, as Weasley returned with clean clothes.

"Um Malfoy, I’ll leave these on the bench for you."

The door opened and closed again. Draco cautiously peaked out before he walked to the bench where Weasley placed a new set of nightclothes and a towel. He dried himself quickly and dressed in record time, scaring first year students, with the scars on his body, not high on his list of priorities. He gathered his dirty clothing and met Weasley outside in the hallway.

The dark circles under Weasley's eyes and the tousled hair made Weasley appear older. Draco remained silent as they walked back to their room. They entered cautiously, and Weasley moved on instinct back to his own bed, while Draco threw his clothes on the floor and climbed back into his bed. Draco wanted to sleep again, but each time he closed his eyes, his memories flashed to Voldemort’s weight on his chest, and the extreme pain of the Cruciatus Curse. Too restless and scared to fall back asleep, Draco climbed out of bed, grabbed his homework, and headed downstairs...


Draco sat in the plush red armchair, reading his potion textbook. He had finished a few more summer homework assignments while everyone else slept. Now with the morning sun streaming through the glass paned windows, Draco's eyes gritty with exhaustion had trouble staying open. He pushed the discomfort aside, and worked through the tiredness, while other students, who woke up early, passed through the common room. They avoided his eyes when he looked up at them. No one offered to go eat breakfast with him, so Draco continued to work on his assignments while waiting for his escorts to come downstairs.

By the time, Weasley and Potter arrived, both looked as sleep deprived as he felt it was almost too late to eat breakfast but they walked quickly to the Great Hall. Sandra waited for him while he grabbed something to eat, then she escorted him to his first class, potions.

Draco did his best to ignore the whispering and furtive glances. Professor Snape acted no differently towards him and gradually Draco relaxed and concentrated on his work. He finished with time to spare.

Last night he managed to finish the majority of his potion homework, and the scrolls lay in his carry case. After class, he waited until everyone had left before approaching Snape’s desk. Snape’s hard expression softened so Draco quickly fumbled out his scrolls and handed them over. "I had time last night so I managed to finish most of my make up work for potions."

"Did you get any sleep last night?" Snape asked casually, picking up the scrolls.

Draco nodded his head; he maybe got two hours of sleep. "Some." He said vaguely. There was no way he could talk about the dream he had last night to anyone.

"Draco, come on, we need to hurry." Sandra called to him at the doorway; she panted out of breath. Something must have held her up.

He grabbed his bag and headed for the exit, he did not want to be late to class either, because it drew too much attention to him.

They made it to his Divinations class with time to spare, but Draco knew Sandra would be late to her next class. He entered his class and she ran off.

Incense filled the room like smoke, which made him cough. The Hufflepuff students ignored him. Compared to the alternative it was not too bad. Draco found a spot in the back of the room on the floor where he could lean against the wall comfortably. Professor Trelawney sat and lectured on the meanings of pictures on their tarot cards. The haziness of the room and the professor’s droning voice fought against Draco’s efforts to stay awake.

He leaned his head back against the wall. Valiantly tried to keep his eyes open and promptly fell right to sleep.


Draco’s nerve endings blazed with pain; he had long since lost his ability to scream, his body grew weaker and he felt his mind slipping away as the agony continued to assault his body. Then abruptly the pain ended. His body fell limp to the mattress all his muscles locked in pain relaxed instantly from sheer exhaustion.

Tears stained his cheeks but he had no strength to wipe them off his face, Draco wanted to sob in horror but only had enough energy to turn his head towards the door, and Voldemort. He had not noticed him entering the room; Draco had no clue how much time had passed since Voldemort left him with the cruel curse.

"Are you still sane?" Voldemort asked, and sat next to him. Draco could not flinch away from the hand that came up and smoothed the hair from his brow.

Draco wondered at the question, was he still sane? His mind gibbered at the thought of going through that again and he almost sobbed but managed to bite it back in time. He had no desire to show Voldemort his weakness.

The hand moved from his forehead down his wet cheek, and rested on his neck, one pad of Voldemort’s thumb settled on his pulse and pressed. Draco shuddered at the contact, his body already stronger with each passing moment. "Well boy, are you going to answer me?" Voldemort leaned closer.

Draco swallowed and stared nervously into those strange eyes, conscious of the hand resting on his throat. "I’m sane," Draco, whispered, it hurt; he must have torn something in his throat with all his screaming.

A smile twisted in maniacal good humor on Voldemort’s face. "That’s good I left the curse on you for ten minutes, it drives most people insane at about twenty minutes but it varies. I don’t want my toy broken on the first day." Voldemort laughed at his own joke while Draco stared up into the face that would rule his nightmares for years to come.

Draco did not fight when Voldemort’s hands roamed over his body and touched in places no one should have a right to touch without permission. Some of the touches caused goosebumps to rise on his flesh and others left him warm and tingling. Voldemort’s hand closed around his penis. Draco closed his eyes and prepared for another one of Voldemort’s cruel tricks, but the hand remained gentle in its slow strokes. His hips rocked into the hand. His body quickened with the first flush of pleasure he had ever experienced at someone else’s hand. He gripped the arm above his head, his sweaty palm held on while the rest of his body tensed.

Voldemort lay down, his chest against Draco's back. A gentle nudge and Draco lifted his leg to give Voldemort greater access to what the man wanted. His fingers hurt where they gripped the arm above his head but he could not let go. The hand on his penis shifted strokes making them harder and faster, bringing Draco to the brink of orgasm, and then Voldemort stopped. Draco moaned and arched his back, aching for the hand to return. He did not know half the tricks the other man seemed to know.

In his pleasure-dazed state, Draco felt every slight motion of Voldemort’s fingers drifting down his back and down the cleft of his ass. One finger entered him without hesitation and Draco flinched. Immediately he let go of the hand above his head. Draco intended to reach down and stop Voldemort, however his other arm held him from being crushed into the bedcover. Draco barely let go of Voldemort's arm when a strong hand gripped his wrist and pulled it over his head. Draco’s head cleared quickly as he realized what Voldemort wanted, he tried to struggle, but his position was perilous. With a quick move, Voldemort pulled his finger out of him shifted his free arm under Draco’s upraised leg and lifted it high, leaving him completely open to the swift invasion of Voldemort’s cock which tore through him with no mercy.

The pain wiped all traces of pleasure from Draco. Had he the voice, Draco wanted to scream; instead, each thrust elicited pitiful whimpers of pain. Dizzy and nauseous, Draco struggled uselessly as Voldemort continued to rape him.

Voldemort thrust harder and faster before slowing. Draco gasped for air during the break in the relentless assault. In too much pain to care what anyone thought of him, Draco cried silently. Voldemort shifted his angle and thrust again. The pain changed into something different and Draco grew hard. He did not fight when Voldemort gripped his cock and resumed his efforts.

His orgasm when it hit shattered him, Draco passed out to Voldemort’s laughter.


Draco jerked awake; his head hit the stone behind him with enough force to leave stars dancing in his vision. His heated, slightly sweaty face burned. Luckily, everyone stared towards the front of the room. Draco’s stomach trembled with the force of the memory, there had to be something wrong, he never dreamed this vividly. Draco rubbed his eyes and tried to pick up where the teacher went with the lesson. More stuff about tarot cards, not that they would do him any good. He already knew his future. It was fucked.


The rest of the day passed quickly and Draco found no other opportunities to sleep, exhausted he managed to make it to dinner. On the bright side, no one had attacked him today. The Slytherins even ignored him when he entered the Great Hall.

Potter, Granger, and Weasley had saved him a seat but ignored him while he ate his dinner. With each of Weasley’s side-glances the mark burned. Draco waited for Weasley to give him an order; no one had ever gone this long after activating the spell without displacing it by fucking him. He hoped Professor Snape and Dumbledore would find a way to remove the mark before it really started to hurt.

The ham, potatoes, corn on the cob, and roll lay mostly untouched on his plate; Draco pushed the potatoes around with his fork and tried to ignore Wesley and Potter talking about Quidittch. Granger spoke in a low voice about the new Seeker on Slytherin team. Strangely, the news of someone replacing him did not upset him, as it would have a summer ago. For Draco his old life went up in ashes the moment Voldemort touched him.

Later, Draco studied in the Gryffindor common room. He ignored the stares and whispers, compared to the alternative, it could be worse. He did not feel safe in the bedroom after what happened the night before. Weasley and Potter played Wizard’s chess at the table near the fireplace. Granger studied in the library. His fellow Gryffindors occupied the other tables. Draco worked on his summer assignments and his current homework; he gradually relaxed though his stomach hurt from hunger.

To sit in a room without anyone's lustful gaze upon him, to have the choice to wear clothing or not, he used to take these small luxuries for granted, not anymore.

The hours flew by as Draco wrote on one scroll after another, soon the clock chimed the 11th hour and Draco looked up from his task and noticed the mostly empty room. The only students still downstairs had heavy books open; quills flew across sheets of parchment. Draco stood, stretched his sore muscles, and quietly gathered all this work into his bag. He went upstairs, carrying the bag over his shoulder. His new roommates looked at him briefly, before they continued to ready for bed.

Draco felt safer with their company; however, he still gathered his shower supplies cautiously, peered into every shadow for signs Voldemort hiding.

Despite his worries, Draco arrived at the boy’s bath safely. He started the shower, stripped off his clothing, laid them on the bench, and stepped under the hot water. The dream from this afternoon weighed heavily on his mind; the first time Voldemort raped him. Draco shuddered and leaned his head against the wall, and let the water beat down on him.

Draco remembered waking alone his body numb, raw, swollen, and leaking, completely bare on the black covers. He waited for the pain to subside. His leg muscles ached from Voldemort's harsh treatment. Slowly he slid off the bed, his legs barely able to support his weight as he explored the room. He had found a door that opened to a bathroom; it had a toilet and a shower, but no mirror and no other niceties. Finding toilet paper under the sink was a pleasant surprise. The shower hurt especially when he used soap to clean his lower region. He braced his hand against the cool wall, dizzy from the warm water and shock. His stomach ached from hunger, fear, humiliation, and a shame that went straight to his soul. Tears escaped his tightly clenched eyes, while his mind raced to find a solution to his dilemma. How could he escape? How was he going to survive? The water turned cold and he felt the first tendrils of real rage at his father for giving him to Voldemort. Rage he suppressed through months of torture, abuse, and servitude.

Three months later with the water beating down on Draco's head in the shower, he remembered the sweet feel of rage and hatred. Blood pounded in his skull and to every part of his body, he felt more alive now than he had in weeks. In the small shower stall at Hogwarts, Draco beat his fists against the slick wall; he hated himself and the people who did this to him.

He wanted the wall to be Voldemort’s face, or his father's, or any of the other number of men who used him. He wanted the wall to be him, for not fighting back harder. Draco felt the shame eating him up inside, unmanning him. What girl would ever want him now? He despaired.

It was past midnight when Draco made his way back to his room. The small night-light Dean gave him glowed next to his bed. Everyone else had already gone to bed. Eyes heavy, Draco slid into bed, lay his head back on the soft pillow, and fell into more dreams...


Draco stood naked at the wide window in his prison, he opened the heavy black curtains to see outside and let in the sunlight. He tried to break the window the night before but his wooden chair bounced off the window, instead of shattering it, Draco assumed Voldemort used a charm on the glass. The heavy weight of a seamless metal cuff secured around his ankle reminded Draco with each step of his captivity. Voldemort had secured the cuff to his ankle himself around noon and left in a hurry saying a house elf would bring lunch.

The sun had set by the time a house elf arrived with a tray, which now sat on the small table next to the window. Draco kept his vigil at the window the entire afternoon; his window overlooked the gardens and he watched enviously as various people came and went. He watched the coming and goings of the Death Eaters as Voldemort played host to his followers, and wished he could leave.

Watching the last rays of sunlight leave the sky, Draco despaired, he knew Voldemort would visit him again this night. He shivered in dread, his numb hands barely held onto the curtain. Once the garden disappeared from view and his naked reflection stared back, Draco closed the curtains and leaned his head against the window. The velvet curtains softened the hard glass. He counted to 100 to relax.

His stomach rumbled with hunger, Draco let go of the curtains marginally less shaky, some strands of his white-blonde hair stuck to the thick fabric and he wiped his hand down the curtain before sitting down on the cushioned chair. Draco lifted the lid off his tray, revealing a bowl of vegetable soup, a spoon, and a cup of water. The last meal he ate a distant memory, Draco used his spoon to separate the vegetables before he gulped down the lukewarm soup.

Fished, Draco leaned back in his chair, bored; earlier he explored the room to find something to read, or write on, or anything of interest, except watching people at the window. He could not remember going this long without work or company.

Draco did not know how long he sat at the table picking at his leftover vegetables when the door opened again. Voldemort strode into the room, his black cap flowing gracefully around his tall lean form. His heart lurched in this throat, and sweat pooled under his arms. If he had the nose of a dog, he knew he would have smelled his own terror.

"Draco, come here," Voldemort ordered, taking off his pocket watch, gloves, and dinner jacket throwing all these items on the bed.

To avoid the wrath of the Cruciatus Curse, Draco did not hesitate. The chain slowed him down somewhat; the cuff hurt the back of his ankle with every step. "Yes sir," Draco said meekly, and kept his eyes lowered, and prayed he responded correctly.

"Did I give you permission to open your curtains today?" Voldemort asked, in a deceptively nice tone.

Draco quivered, and his eyes welled with tears. "No sir, I didn’t think anything of it sir; I was just looking outside…please."

He did not see Voldemort raise his arm, but the solid punch knocked him off his feet. Draco sprawled out on the carpet and slid. The rug burns on his palms and one knee burned; his head rang. "Did I give you permission to think?" Draco tried to avoid the kick to his stomach and got the boot in his side instead, it hurt.

"I’m sorry!" Draco cried out, scrambling away from Voldemort’s kicks, "Please I didn’t know."

Draco hit the back wall, driven there by the fury of Voldemort’s blows. He breathed hard and shook, wondering what other punishment Voldemort would decide on. Voldemort dropped to his knees in front of him, slapped him, with his other hand grabbed Draco's balls, and twisted, "Fuck!" Draco yelped, and batted the hand squeezing tighter on his balls. "Please! Please let go of me," Draco begged crying, while he fought against the heavier weight pinning him to the wall.

"Stop fighting and I’ll let go." Voldemort said, and squeezed tighter.

Crying, Draco dropped his hands to his sides, his back was cold against the wall, but the rest of him sweated and throbbed with pain. His testicles burned and pain twisted up his central nervous system. Voldemort squeezed again, wringing another scream from him, but Draco kept his hands to his sides. After what seemed like an eternity, Voldemort let go of his bruised flesh.

Voldemort stood up, "Get on your knees," he ordered. He unbuttoned his pants, pushed them down, along with his under-garments, and said, "Give me a blow job worth remembering and I may forgive your transgression from this afternoon."

Trembling, Draco did what he could. After it was over, Draco sat back on his heels, and swallowed back the awful taste in his mouth. It did not work.

"I think you might be improving, my pet." Voldemort said breathlessly, "Pull up my pants, we are having guests."

Draco’s cold fingers pulled Voldemort’s pants back up his legs, fastened the buttons, and belt.

"Guests?" Draco inquired.

Pain slammed into his head, Draco fell back, and hit the heavy chair sitting next to the table. "You are never to speak without permission. Next time you disobey me, I will use the Cruciatus Curse on you and leave you screaming, longer than last time. Do you understand me? Nod your head if you understand. I don’t want to hear you disgusting voice unless you are screaming with pain."

Looking into Voldemort’s snake eyes, Draco shuddered and nodded his head. He would agree to anything to avoid one minute of pain that the Cruciatus Curse gave.

"Now, to answer your question, a few of my guests saw you this afternoon and have paid me nicely for the privilege of fucking you. I think five men should not be too much for you to handle. You need more training in pleasing men; soon you’ll be able to service fifteen to twenty men a night if I require it of you."

Draco tried to suppress the sob that welled in his chest, it broke free, and he covered his face with his hands.

"Now, now do not cry, they are not even here, yet." Voldemort’s voice was cruelly patronizing as he patted Draco’s head.


Sunlight streamed through the window and woke Draco the next morning. His ass burned, and semen leaked out of him, into his boxers. It hurt to move. He clenched his muscles but it did not help keep the fluids inside him. Draco shuddered at the remembrance of the dream, which was just another past memory. It felt like the end of the world, when those five men raped him, however worse happened to change his mind.

Draco noticed two of the beds were empty. Weasley groggily woke up as Potter walked back into the room, dressed and with his hair combed. Draco turned on his side away from them; he frantically tried to figure out what had happened to him last night. He could endure violation but not knowing how it happened bothered him more. What could have caused this type of pain? He would have woken up if someone came to his bed last night.

Everyone left the room before Draco threw off his covers and climbed out of bed; his wadded his soiled boxers into a ball and threw them in the dirty clothes hamper. One quick shower later, a clean set of robes on, and Draco felt almost human, if very raw. In the shower, he decided not tell anyone what happened. It sounded crazy even to him.

Keeping this secret, the next month passed...No one bothered him; he drifted like a ghost in the Gryffindor common room, and down the halls of Hogwarts. He did not make any new friends or new enemies. Sometimes he did not sleep at night, his dreams so violent and disturbing he woke everyone screaming. He hated Weasley’s horrified look of pity each time the boy shook his shoulder to wake him. His roommates grew accustomed to his nightmares, and after a few weeks, they slept through most of them. Eventually his own screams woke him up, instead of Weasley or Potter.

Quidditch matches, he avoided, too many people. Draco always stayed in places where no one could get him, but the hunted feeling remained. His few nights of good sleep helped make up for the nights when the dreams threw him out of sleep. Starfire’s dramatically improved health allowed Professor McGonagall to return Starfire to him. Draco spent much of his free time with her in the square or in the Owlery. Someone told Mr. Croft not to blame Draco for Starfire's ill health. The older man apologized; then left him alone.

Draco wished Starfire could talk; sometimes his loneliness became unbearable. Somehow, he managed to live through each day. Every week the mark on his arm burned hotter, but not nearly bad enough to warrant concern. In his dreams, he experienced pain every night that was much worse than the slow constant burn.

October rolled around with much festivity but Draco barely noticed books now filled his days. He had not talked to anyone in four days, except to ask Dean Thomas to hand him the salt. A week before Halloween Draco noticed the great excitement in the hall. People practically bounced in their seats.

Granger, Potter, and Weasley always saved him a seat, but otherwise, they pretended he did not exist. The situation suited Draco perfectly.

"So Harry, who are you asking to the ball?" Weasley poked at his baked potato with a fork.

"I haven’t given it much thought."

Draco snickered to himself, amused by Potter's daft response. He had heard about the ball last week but did not give it any thought; Draco did not plan to attend. He needed more time alone. The last few nights were intense; his last month of the summer was the worst by far.

No longer forced to eat, Draco became skin and bones, emancipated. Dark circles under his eyes, spoke of how little sleep he managed each night. Sometimes Draco walked with limps from injuries the dreams brought back to him. He kept his head down walking the halls, to avoid anyone's eyes, in hopes no one would question him. His professors did not bother him. They all accepted his homework and gave it back with no other comments.

"How about you, Hermione?" Potter asked.

"I don’t have a costume, so I probably won’t go; besides I need to study ahead for our next exams." She answered while eating some pineapple.

"Ah come on, it’s a costume ball!" Weasley protested, "You can’t miss it, it’ll be cool!"

Draco picked at his food, sometimes eating something. Their conversation bored him anyway.


Professor Severus Snape watched Draco Malfoy at dinner; the boy had wasted away since school started. Robes that fit Draco at the beginning of the school year now hung off him; the wan face, and dark shadows under the eyes, spoke louder than words. Draco needed help; however, Severus did not know where to start.

Severus was tempted on numerous occasions to ask Draco to stay after class. He wanted to reach the bottom of what ailed the boy, but Draco's escort inevitably arrived rushed, and Draco ran off with her, head bowed, blond hair almost in his eyes, and books cradled in his arms. Severus tried to catch Draco’s eyes a few times in class, but the boy who used to meet his eyes, now chose to sit in the last row at the back of the classroom and hide his eyes from anyone who would speak to him. If not for the near perfect homework assignments turned in by Draco, Severus would never know Draco paid attention in class.

The next day, Draco arrived late to class; he limped in carrying his books with one arm. Only a few students turned to see Draco before they promptly ignored him. Draco was not particularly nice to anyone in Hufflepuff his first years at Hogwarts.

Severus paid attention to Draco’s progress. This was not the first time Draco arrived late, limping. Draco's favorite excuse involved stairs and a sprained ankle. Today, Draco winced with every step.

Making a quick decision, Severus announced. "There will be no class today; instead I expect chapters 14 and 15 to be read by our next class. There will be a quiz."

"Draco, stay right there," Severus commanded harshly. Draco froze halfway to the door. His gray eyes blinked at him owlishly, mouth parted as if to protest.

The class filed out the room faster than they entered, most likely afraid Snape would change his mind. Only two students gave Draco sympathetic shrugs, which Draco returned with scowls.

Severus gathered his scrolls while Draco stood at the back of the room, his pale face anxious with all other students gone. "Come along." Severus said passing Draco swiftly. He slowed in the hallway, conscious of Draco’s sluggish pace.

"Sir, where are we going?" Draco asked suspiciously, bright boy despite earlier lack of efforts in school.

"The hospital wing," Severus answered. "This is the last time I want to see you limping into my classroom." Severus kept the anger out of his voice. It was not his fault; Draco blended in with a wall better than he did with people. Severus wanted to know what happened to Draco. Dumbledore assured him of Draco’s safety, and someone had beaten the boy.

A shot of fear went through Draco; he remembered the last time too vividly. "But sir, there is nothing wrong with me," Draco complained, bitterly aware that his wishes would go unheeded.

Severus paused in the corridor and turned to face the younger man who still refused to meet his eyes. Draco clutched his books against his chest like a shield. The boy’s silver blond hair shined in the bright morning sunlight, which came through the large glass pane windows. Draco's hair shone magnificently, while the rest of him fell apart.

"You are not fit to make any reliable judgements, Mr. Malfoy, now follow me." He made his words harsher hoping to impress upon Draco the seriousness of the problem.

Severus took no satisfaction at Draco’s small flinch at his obvious sign of authority. It saddened him to remember a time when Draco would stand up to anyone who gave him orders he did not wish to obey.

They walked the rest of the way to the hospital wing in silence. It was a gorgeous day outside, Severus observed, not at all like the inner turmoil he sensed from Draco. As they neared their destination, Draco made shorter and shorter steps, trying to delay their arrival, as if headed towards execution instead of healing.

Severus sighed; relieved Draco followed him this far. He reached out to open the door when a muffled cry drew his attention back to Draco.

"Sir, please do not make me go in there again." Draco begged his voice strained, pale face pinched, and tears shimmering on the brink of falling down Draco’s cheeks. "I can’t. Please I do not want anyone to touch me again. If I go in there..." Draco’s knuckles whitened as he clutched his books tighter to his chest.

Draco turned his eyes aside from his stare, unable to face him completely. Severus’s chest tightened with an unfamiliar emotion. He knew his duty was to help Draco in spite of the boy’s wishes, but the utter helplessness in Draco’s eyes pulled at him, made him want to ignore his better senses.

Severus paused, his hand a few inches away from the door and considered his options. One, ignore this problem and let Draco limp through the hallways like a war veteran, two, try helping the boy himself, he had no skills in healing, three force the boy to receive aid, and have Draco’s everlasting fear and hatred. Severus did not like any of the options but he forced himself to remember Draco’s late arrival in class today and the pain on Draco’s face every time the boy walked, sat down, or moved in any other way. Draco needed help whether he liked it or not.

"Draco, I am sorry, but I cannot help you myself. I have let this go on too long. There is something wrong and I will not let you waste away like this. You can hate me but I will not shirk my duty. You are going to have your injuries treated."

He opened the door and watched Draco’s reaction. Draco' gaze hardened with fury but it was gone so fast, Severus was not sure if he really saw it. Draco quickly wiped his sleeve across his eyes and avoided Severus’s eyes when he entered the room. Madame Pomfrey sat at a desk reading a book.

"Oh dear, what is it this time, Professor Snape?" She asked and set aside her book, taking in their grim expressions.

"Mr. Malfoy is injured I believe, but I’d rather have Headmaster Dumbledore here before we do any exams. Would you mind finding him?"

"Of course, please sit." She pointed towards her desk and the empty chairs near it.

Relieved at her lack of questions, Severus claimed a chair and sat. The oppressive silence in the empty room annoyed him. The hospital ward, rarely lacked visitors, with students constantly injuring themselves through miscast spells and general accidents.


Draco remained standing even after Professor Snape sat down in the chair Madame Pomfrey vacated. He kept his books close to his chest, and his eyes fixed on the wall paintings. Watching the nurses in the pictures kept his mind occupied from dwelling on Dumbledore’s imminent arrival.

His gaze drifted towards his Potions professor. Draco sometimes wondered what the older man thought while teaching class. Snape's intense eyes always filled with contempt for his students changed when they settled on him. Why today of all days did Professor Snape decide to investigate him? Did Snape honestly care about him? Draco shook his head to move the hair out of his eyes, and turned away from studying his teacher.

The window next to the desk gave him the perfect opportunity to avoid staring at all the empty beds and the dark-haired man next to him. Too bad Madame Pomfrey closed the windows; he could use some fresh air. Draco let a small sigh escape his lips, and remembered all the hours he stood at the window in his room at Voldemort’s home, peeking through a crack in the curtain to view another world outside his prison. After that first time, he learned his lesson, and kept his watching limited and subtle, so no one would see him again.

Draco lost track of time watching students walk down below on the green lawns, not yet dead from the autumn chill. He leaned his head against the window too weary to care what Professor Snape thought anymore; the pane cooled his forehead. His emotions conflicted so often he did not know where to turn anymore. Now, Draco just wanted to sleep without dreams waking him up screaming or in so much pain he could do nothing but squirm under his bed sheets crying until the pain passed.

This last awful week, Voldemort began training him to accept more pain by inflicting the Cruciatus Curse on him every hour, and increasing the length of time he held the curse. Most times Voldemort and his friends liked to use whips, but not even the whips could come close the agony inflicted by that spell. Draco thought he was broken for sure. His mind shied away from thinking about what followed the rest of the week.

The wooden door opened, and admitted the wizard he did not want to see. Dumbledore strode into hospital ward; his robes moved with him not hampered by the fast pace of their owner. Draco closed his eyes and pressed his heated forehead to the cool windowpane. His clammy hands kept their slippery grip on his books.

"Draco, please come away from the window." Professor Snape said while standing to greet Dumbledore.

"Professor, Madame Pomfrey told me there was an urgent matter you wanted me to investigate?" Dumbledore asked calmly, Draco could feel those knowing eyes on his back.

Draco flinched when a hand on his shoulder pulled him away from the window; he almost protested, but stopped himself in time. He still feared, on some level, punishment if he complained about any of the treatment he received.

"Sir, Draco, is late to my class on numerous occasions. His escort sees him to class, but he is constantly limping. A miracle he makes it to any class on time. I suspect there is something wrong and I could no longer remain silent on this matter." Snape's firm grip on Draco’s shoulder stopped him from shuffling away from Dumbledore’s attentive gaze.

Dumbledore did not speak for a moment, and Draco steeled himself against whatever might come out of the headmaster’s mouth. "I have protection spells on, Draco, the minute anyone touched him with any intent to harm him, they would activate. Are you sure these are not self injuries or accidents?"

Draco seized upon the opportunity when it presented itself, "I’m not sure why Professor Snape thinks anything is wrong. I pulled my leg muscle a few days ago...that’s why I’ve been limping to class recently." Draco thought his lie convinced them, until he saw Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey's skeptical frowns.

"I’m telling the truth! Now will you let me get back to my classes?" Draco yelled, close to panicking.

Snape glared at him. Draco looked away first.

"Madame Pomfrey, can you please leave for a while. I believe we need to talk to, Draco, with some privacy." Dumbledore asked, kindly.

She nodded and left with a small puzzled smile for Draco. Some encouragement he thought and frowned, refusing to meet Snape or Dumbledore's eyes. Draco wished she had not left. Both men towered over him by at least one foot and they were going to (hurt him) force him to tell them about his shameful dreams. Draco started to back away from Professor Snape, who stood closer, but Snape's hand flashed out and grabbed Draco's robe, which is all that kept him from running.

"Draco, we are not going to hurt you. Relax. You are allowed to breathe." Professor Snape said dryly.

Draco did not realize he had held his breath. He let it out suddenly and yanked himself away from Snape's grip.

"I’m okay." Draco insisted, and backed away until he hit the wall behind him.

Dumbledore and Snape exchanged some look and Draco knew they did not believe him. His hands fell numbly to his sides, spilling books all over the floor. Sheer panic overtook Draco. He sprinted to the side, dodging Snape and slipped quickly between Dumbledore and the desk. Draco hit the door running; his sweaty hands fumbled at the knob just long enough for Dumbledore to stun him. Draco fell straight back, onto the floor, his body not under his control anymore.

Strong arms gently picked him up. Draco stared at the moving ceiling until the arms placed him on the bed. His muscles ached from the spell and nausea churned in his stomach, nerves.

"Severus, I fear there is more going on than we first realized. Can you please disrobe Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore's gentle and concerned voice did not relieve any of Draco’s fears. Flashbacks from his captivity assaulted him.

With quick proficiency, Snape stripped Draco of all his clothing, except for his underwear. "How could this happen?" He heard Snape say through gritted teeth; his dark eyes blazed and looked towards Dumbledore for an answer. Draco knew whip and burn marks trailed all the way down to his feet. He tried to use healing charms but they never worked well. His best spell temporarily dulled the pain.

"I thought we had healed all this damage. He did not have this much damage when he first showed up." Snape muttered.

"Stand aside, Severus, I can heal his injuries and then we will get to the bottom of this."

Draco paid close attention to the spell Dumbledore cast remembering it, so he could use it on himself, someday. His body became numb and tingly as the spell worked at healing his various injuries. "That should do it," Dumbledore said, and sat down on a chair next to the bed.

Snape paced back and forth in front of his bed. Draco followed him with his eyes, his body held immobile by the spell. Abruptly the spell dissipated and Draco relaxed back into the mattress. Now that he could move, Draco grudgingly admitted he felt better. His skin no longer pulled tight against cuts, nor did the bruises feel tender when he bumped against anything. The mark on his arm still burned but he had lived with the pain for so long he barely noticed it anymore.

"Draco, would you care to tell us, who gave you those injuries?" Dumbledore asked firmly. Snape stopped pacing and stood at the foot of the bed. His hands gripped the rail so tightly, his knuckles turned white.

Instead of answering, Draco sat and grabbed his robe and pulled it over his head, it pooled at his hips. "No one sir." Draco lied easily, straightening his clothing. They may force healing on him, but they could not force him to talk. He was sick of people treating him like a doll.

"Severus, do you have any sleeping potions with you? I believe Draco needs some rest." Dumbledore did not even pause.

"All my potions are kept in my work room."

"Good go get one and bring it back."

Snape immediately headed towards the exit.

Draco fought to keep his expression blank. Why did they want him to go to sleep now? "Sir it’s still early morning." Draco said carefully, he could not afford for them to find out how scared he was of sleeping.

Snape paused at the door, "Albus?"

"Severus, go." Dumbledore said firmly, his eyes brooked no argument.

Draco shrank back, and then cursed himself ten kinds of fools for showing any reaction. The room felt emptier without Snape’s magnetic presence. Briefly, Draco wondered how it was that Harry Potter always seemed so comfortable in Dumbledore’s company. Draco felt like a fly pinned to a wall; Dumbledore’s considering stare made him decidedly uncomfortable and nervous.

"Draco, I know I have been busy these past months. Finding a counter-spell for something as evil as the mark on your arm takes time. Despite this I have been watching you and Professor McGonagall tells me that you don’t have any friends, your nightmares wake up your roommates more often than not, and you are not eating." Dumbledore spoke softly almost gently. "And now, despite my spells of protection someone has physically harmed you and you won’t say who. This is a matter of great concern."

Draco entertained the idea of telling Dumbledore about his dreams but dismissed it instantly. Shame prevented him from speaking of his experiences in Voldemort's hands. Draco looked away from Dumbledore, his face flushing with embarrassment and some confusion. "Sir don’t you remember I can’t speak about myself anymore?" Draco lied again; Ron already gave him permission to speak of anything he wished.

Dumbledore appeared startled for an instant, "Of course, that must be it, Draco. When Snape gets here I’ll have to leave to research something."

About five minutes later, Professor Snape returned carrying a black bag. The clinking inside confirmed that yes; Professor Snape must have brought his entire stock of sleeping potions. If only, he could run away.

"Severus, I’m glad you are here. I have to go now before I forget something. Give the young man something to keep him asleep for the next eight or nine hours, he looks like he hasn’t slept since school started." Without another word, Dumbledore left the room, almost at a run.

Draco stared at the door a few seconds longer. Did he say something? Draco went back over his conversation with Dumbledore in his head; he said nothing of real importance. Snape walked towards his bed set the black bag on the chair Dumbledore just vacated, and opened the clasps. Realizing his peril, eight or nine hours of sleep, Draco fought his rising panic. A sleeping spell would not allow him to wake up if things went bad. Normally, Draco's torture cut off by simply waking, most nights.

"Professor, I can’t sleep all day. What about my classes?" Sweat built under his arms, beading his forehead, his stomach had butterflies in it. His throat and mouth suddenly dry. He gulped and licked his lips they needed the moisture.

"Do not worry about that, you are on task, it will not take long for you to make up one missed day." Snape did not look up from examining the bottles he took out of the bag, one by one.

"Who will protect me if any Slytherin students come in here?" Draco fumbled for more excuses; he had to find a way out of this, and his mind frantically searched in circles.

With an exasperated sigh, Professor Snape picked a potion, "Don’t worry Draco, either I or Madame Pomfrey will watch over you. Now stop making excuses and just drink the potion." Snape handed him a small clear bottle with a dark blue liquid in it. Draco accepted it with trembling fingers.

Every instinct told Draco to disobey, but his mind also screamed OBEY OBEY. He remembered the agony of disobedience. The training this summer affected him even now, and it frightened and angered him. Before he could change his mind, Draco swung his legs over the side of the bed, and threw the bottle against the far wall.

The small bottle shattered, leaving a blue smear plastered against the stone wall. Glass shards scattered on the floor, the nightstand, pillows, blankets, and the curtains. Draco’s mouth dropped open aghast at the mess he made, but he did not pause long. Severus's attention, equally fixed on the mess, would waver soon. Draco stood, grabbed his wand, and backed away from Snape's angry glare. Spells to disarm a wizard or witch were common and yet Draco could think of none, his mind petrified by Snape's coal black eyes.

Hunger made Draco faint and weak, but he forced himself to stay wary, and keep his guard up. Snape's wand, still tucked in at the belt, gave Draco a slight advantage, but he was not brain dead. "I will not drink any of your fucking potions! I just want to be left alone, you can’t help me, and I’m tired of people here pretending they care." Draco let the bitterness he hid for so long show itself. He had already crossed the line, in his mind at least, of no turning back.

Draco kept some distance between him and the professor as he came around the side of the bed. He walked backed towards the door; however, Draco did not travel far from the bed when he heard the door open behind him. Draco looked behind to see who it was and realized too late that he gave Snape the opening the other man needed. Before Draco could, say 'Stupefy' Snape tackled him. Draco had no defense against the shove that knocked him off his feet, or Snape's weight crashing down on top of him. Air whooshed out of Draco and his wand went flying. Draco saw it roll under one of the beds before his head hit the ground. Draco saw stars and blackness before his vision cleared. His head throbbed along with his ribs and back. He gasped for air, unable to breathe properly with Snape's weight covering him. Snape held his wrists in a vise grip. Draco fought against the weight holding him down and screamed with fury.

"Madame Pomfrey! Get my bag and the purple potion out of it, right now!"

Kicking and screaming Draco twisted his arms, he managed to bite one hand before Severus cursed and pulled Draco’s arms up over his head, holding him there with sheer body weight. Snape's robes fell into his face from the new position; Draco spat out the velvet material that fell in his mouth.

He saw another set of robes or a dress out of the corner of his eye passing him, heading towards the bed and the bag of sleeping potions. Draco stopped kicking and lay still to catch his breath, his position humiliating. Panting Draco tried to pull his hands free and winced when Snape’s hands tightened. Flashes of other hands holding him down and hurting him assaulted his mind. Draco struggled even harder.

"Here, Professor!" Draco could not see Madame Pomfrey his hair had fallen in his eyes and Snape blocked out his view of the room, all he could see was Snape’s black robed chest. Draco shook his head and tried wiggling free.

"Stay still." Snape commanded banging Draco’s hands against the floor.

Snape shifted his weight and grabbed both of Draco’s wrists in one hand; in order to grab the potion in the other, but Draco would not stay pinned that easily. "Madame, I fear I’m going to need your help. Can you hold Mr. Malfoy’s wrists for me? I need to get this sleeping potion down the boy’s throat."

Draco gasped for air and started crying, "Please, Please Professor, don’t. I will go to sleep. I promise just no potions. I can't breathe!" Draco did not care that he could hear himself begging he had done worse in his time. He could not take the potion not today of all days. Just the thought of it made black dots swim in his vision, or maybe it really was the lack of oxygen.

He looked up and saw Madame Pomfrey taking his wrists from Snape’s hands; she had to use her entire weight to keep them pinned. He would not stop fighting. Draco dragged in a deep breath and screamed. "Let me go! You fucking bitches! I hate you! I hate you!" Draco screamed loudly hoping someone would come in and stop this.

"Oh God," he heard Snape mutter above his head.

Draco bit at Snape’s hand when he grabbed his jaw; his fingers dug into his jawbone hurting him. His mouth forced open, Snape quickly poured the potion into him. Draco tried to spit it out and not swallow, but Snape covered his mouth with his hand and held his nose, and forced Draco to swallow. The last thing Draco saw was Madame Pomfrey's worried face looking down at him with pity.


Madame Pomfrey shakily released Draco's limp wrists. Severus completely unprepared for this scuffle took a moment to catch his breath. Magical fights were more his style, not knocking down students and restraining them. The bites on his hands ached but he ignored them as he sat back on his heels over the unconscious body of Draco Malfoy.

"Are you okay?" Madame Pomfrey asked him, she dabbed the sweat off her forehead, her eyes wider than normal.

His heart pounded and sweat stood out on his forehead, he felt old. "I'm fine." Severus said and stood. He looked down at the unconscious teenager. The boy's hair was a complete mess; his robes appallingly disarrayed, tears streaked Draco's pale cheeks. Undoubtedly, Draco had no clue he cried during their tussle on the ground.

"We need to get him back to bed," Severus bent down and picked Draco up. For the second time that day, Severus was grateful Draco had lost weight. If Draco were any heavier, Severus would have to use a spell to float Draco to the bed, embarrassing if anyone found out. He was not that old, yet.

Undressing Draco's limp body proved an easier task than undressing a stunned body. In no time at all, Snape had Draco under covers, closed the curtains to make the room darker, and helped Madame Pomfrey clean the mess Draco created by throwing the potion, shards of glass scattered everywhere

With everything cleaned and beds remade with fresh sheets Snape allowed himself to relax. He sat with Madame Pomfrey at her desk. She looked shaken. "Was it really necessary to force Mr. Malfoy to take the sleeping potion?" She asked.

At first, Severus did not answer, asking himself the same question. He said the first thing that came to mind, "Dumbledore asked me to make sure Draco got eight to nine hours of sleep. You can see the dark circles under his eyes surely. I don't know why Draco reacted so badly to taking a sleeping potion." Severus realized he now wanted to figure out what could cause such a bad reaction. Tonight he would have to talk to Dumbledore about it.

"Well that was more excitement than I'm used to," She said in her soft voice, nervously.

Severus had to agree with her. He sat there a few minutes longer, not sure, if he should stay or leave. He had homework assignments to grade and experiments to work on. Without much more thought, Severus made the decision to leave for the time being. After all, it was mid-morning; Madame Pomfrey worked for another six hours.

"Madame Pomfrey, I have other work I need to attend to, I'll be back to check up on Mr. Malfoy in a few hours. Please send a message if you need someone to relieve you, I don't feel comfortable leaving Mr. Malfoy alone in his condition."

"Of course Professor, I'll stay and watch over him. I also have tasks to complete and I can work here."

Wondering if he was making a mistake, Severus left the room quickly before he changed his mind.


Draco lost track of time, locked in this room servicing Voldemort and his followers. His body ached all over from all the abuse he had taken. Last night, Voldemort continued training Draco to withstand the intense pain of the Cruciatus Curse. Draco could do nothing to avoid the new "training." Today, his mind felt mercifully blank as he watched the sun set through a small crack in the curtains. Most of summer had passed. Draco saw the leaves change colors gradually as the temperatures dropped slightly with the coming autumn.

All the lights in the room were on; Draco did not like the dark much anymore. This last week of torture pushed him to the edge of his endurance; Draco knew Voldemort wanted to see if he could make it past twenty minutes without going insane. His top time so far reached fifteen minutes.

Draco heard footsteps and voices outside his door and he moved away from the window; he sat carefully on his only chair in the room. The door opened and Voldemort strolled inside escorting a new group of men into the room. Draco knew better than to ask questions. Therefore, he stayed silent while the men set up some weird equipment. It looked like they were only there to do a job. The black contraption they set up spat out flames, and had an iron bar on top of it, it sat on four wooden blocks. They looked towards Voldemort for approval, and at his nod, they left the room. Another man entered, this man wore a hood, which completely covered his face and hair.

"You are probably wondering what this is for?" Voldemort said and patted the top of the box with flames in it. "You are a curious boy after all. It is your punishment if you shall fail to please me, completely. I cannot keep you locked in this room forever. I would like to take you out with me and show you off, but I need assurance of your absolute obedience first. Now, take off your clothes and come undress me." Lord Voldemort ordered.

Ignoring the masked man in the room, Draco quickly stripped off his shorts, unbuttoned his shirt, and let it slide to the floor. He walked quickly to Voldemort and untied the laces on Voldemort's shirt; the buttons came next, then the belt. He had done this many times now. With little ceremony, Draco had Lord Voldemort naked as himself.

"Get on the bed and lie down." Voldemort went to the dresser against the wall and grabbed a tube of lubricant. He heard most wizards like to use spells to create the substance, but Voldemort one time jokingly told him he only wanted one wand in bed vibrating. At the time, Draco face turned bright red at the crude talk, but now he no longer embarrassed as easily.

Voldemort sat the side of the bed and ran his hands down Draco's body, from ankle to head, those fingers glided over him touching everything he could get his hands on. "Turn over on your stomach, hands out."

Complying quickly got a firm pat on his behind and a small chuckle from Voldemort. Tonight, his captor did not take time to prepare him. Voldemort thrust and pumped with no real rhythm or care. Draco kept completely silent and allowed the rape. His fingers clutched the pillow near his hands when Voldemort thrust against spots that still burned and ached from tears that never had time to heal.

Suddenly Voldemort stopped and pulled out. "On your knees." Draco pushed himself up and got on his knees, numb. He stayed in one place while the other man lay down on his back, near the center of the bed. "Now fuck yourself on my cock." He ordered.

Draco crawled to Voldemort and straddled him. It took some effort to force his legs to raise enough to impale himself on the straining cock. Voldemort already slick with lubricant and blood made his job easier. He slowly sank down on Voldemort, this hurt a lot more than the other way, it was so much deeper, and he did not have the strength to keep more out than in. He did as ordered and slowly raised up and back down, repeatedly. It hurt but Draco did not stop. The black box puzzled him, but he knew Voldemort enough to know whatever was in that box would hurt him more than this.

"Okay now stop," Voldemort, panted, his cheeks flushed with pleasure. "Draco, you are to keep your eyes on my face the whole time, if you disobey me..." He let the threat hang in the air, sat up, and hugged Draco to his chest. Draco did not know what to do with his hands so he let them fall limply at his sides while Voldemort thrust up into him a few more times. Still buried deeply inside of him, Voldemort kept Draco bound to him with muscle and bone as he lay back down. Draco embarrassingly aware of how much of his ass was showing to the other man in the room blushed, and kept his eyes on Voldemort's face. Voldemort spread his legs further apart with his knees. Draco moaned at the painful stretch.

Voldemort turned his attention to the other man in the room. "Take off your clothes and mask and join us." It did not sound like a request but an order. Draco could hear the soft whisper of cloth falling on the floor, and then the bed dipped and the other man crawled behind him. If not for Voldemort's strange order to keep his eyes on his face, Draco would have turned around to see whom the other, man was, so someday he would know whom to kill in revenge.

"Here's the lube." Voldemort rasped out tossing the tube to the man behind him. "We are going to fuck him at the same time. Draco is ready for it."

Draco stiffened at the implication; it already hurt with just Voldemort. Draco tried begging with his eyes, but Voldemort just smiled and tightened his grip on Draco's shoulders and licked the tip of his nose; then laughed softly before moaning again. Every shift on the bed created pleasurable friction, and the other man shifted things around a lot, spreading Draco's legs even further apart, adding more lubricant his already sore entrance.

He felt fingers probing and stretching him and then something larger than a finger trying to gain entrance. Voldemort forced Draco's legs closer to body pushing his ass out even more to make more room for the stranger to insert himself. Draco bit his bottom lip and kept his eyes on Voldemort's face, which was obscene, watching him take pleasure in his pain.

The pressure mounted and Draco moaned, unwilling to voice his pain. Finally, the stranger broke through and tore him. Draco yelled one sharp burst of pain, before blocking it off. He had two cocks in him and felt full to bursting, it throbbed and burned and his stomach ached. Dizzy with intense pain, he tried to make sure he stayed focused on the man under him, then the man above him started thrusting, and Draco yelled and yelled again with each thrust into him.

Draco knew begging them to stop was forbidden but Voldemort enjoyed all his cries of pain and tears. His head was so hot and the heat between the two men blanketed him. Sweat dripped onto his back and his stomach slapped against Voldemort's, as the two men became more violent. Teeth bit at his shoulders and Voldemort bit his neck, nails scratched him but he could not tell whose, the hard trusts tore him. Draco tried to separate his mind from his body, not wanting to be in it anymore. Draco wanted to be anywhere but here.

"Oh, Lucius!" Voldemort cried out releasing his seed in one burst after another, shaking uncontrollably. Draco shook his head trying to deny what he heard. He struggled to escape the body above him now fucking him harder than before.

"Get off me!" Draco screamed panicking. It could not be true, it could not be true, he insisted to himself. Draco twisted again, fighting against Voldemort's hands holding him down. Teeth bit at his shoulder again and when he turned his head just so, he could see pale silver blonde strands of hair falling over his shoulder and it was not his hair.

The man on top of him grabbed his upper arms, held tightly, and thrust brutally hard four times before climaxing and collapsing on top of him, panting in his ear. Draco hit the man with his elbows and continued to struggle to free himself from their arms; he could feel blood and semen leaking out his ass even with their cocks still buried in him. Draco's body shook with sobs of frustration and pain. The man shifted, the sweat made their bodies stick close together and Draco turned enough to see it was indeed his father kneeling behind him his face flushed red and his eyes glittering with spent lust.

Draco choked out a sob of disbelief and intense shame; he realized he had hoped this was another one of Voldemort's tricks. He blinked and his father sat there after having just fucked him within an inch of his life; his father's fluids were sliding out of him, with Voldemort's spent erection. Denial was always his strong suit, but this time Draco was beyond shock or horror, and there was no denying that his father had just...He realized that even if his plans to run home had succeeded, his father would have returned him. Draco sobbed in pain far greater than Voldemort had ever given him because Voldemort had never betrayed him.

"How could you?" Draco finally asked, aghast. Trying to control himself, trying to convince himself he did not have emotions, that this was a nightmare.

Laughter behind him turned his attention back to Voldemort; the man leaned back face also flushed. "I knew nothing else would make you disobey me, now I have to punish you. Lucius is here to help complete the ritual." Voldemort pushed Draco off him.

Silently crying, Draco rolled onto his back, his hands trembled, numb and tingly. He wondered if this is what shock felt like? He lay on the bed, and stared at his father's naked body as Lucius helped Voldemort prepare for the ritual. His father came back with ties to bind him.

"Get up, Draco, and stop sniveling." Lucius commanded.

Draco glared at his father but did as told and followed his father to the black box. "Get on your knees," another order. Still numb and trembling exhaustedly, Draco knelt in front of the box.

He watched silently as Voldemort and his father wrapped a red silk tie around each of his wrists and tied them tightly to a loop at the base of the black box, which forced Draco to bend down until his nose almost touched the carpet. Draco did not care what they did to him anymore, his body occasionally shivered from the cold, but he ignored the two men as they held their wands and chanted over the box, casting their spell. Draco tried to summon his fear, but nothing pierced the fog around his mind.

Voldemort opened the box and flames licked out, warming Draco's face, he tried pulling back from the heat, but his wrists stuck fast to the metal rings at the base of the box.

"Draco, you've seen the Death Eater mark before I'm sure. I'm going to brand you, but this time with a different magic." He laughed softly holding the iron bar into the flames waiting for the tip to become red-hot.

"Lucius, you're going to have to sit on, Draco's, shoulders, I can't afford for him to move." Voldemort pulled the iron rod from the flames, checking it before he stuck it back into the box.

His father forced him down on his stomach and pulled him taut; then knelt on his shoulder blades. Draco faced the dark curtain window, away from Voldemort; the carpet under his cheek itched. The butterflies in his stomach made him nauseous. How bad could branding feel? No pain could beat the Cruciatus Curse.

"It's ready," Voldemort said. "Hold his arm out."

Draco tensed when his father twisted his arm so the underside faced Voldemort's branding iron; tears dripped down Draco's face and slid into his ear. Real fear fluttered into his awareness.

"With this brand I bind thee to me," Voldemort said softly. It was the only warning Draco had before a pain unlike any he had ever felt ripped into his brain and soul and twisted his nerve endings. His brain split apart from the pain and he heard something snap and realized he had broken his wrists. Then mercifully, blackness swallowed him.

In a fog, he heard chanting and felt his soul bound tighter and tighter the mark on his arm. When he woke, still on the floor, wrists no longer tied to the metal rings on the base of the iron object, he curled his numb hands near chest. Pain throbbed up his arms from both broken wrists.

"Did the spell work?" He barely heard his father's question as he drifted on the edge of unconsciousness.

"Touch the mark and say the keyword."

Rough hands grabbed his arm and yanked him to his knees. "Alizar," Draco froze not able to move or blink.

"He broke his wrists but we can fix those later." Voldemort said casually, "Come here, Draco."

Too exhausted to kneel on his own, without his father's support against his back; Draco did not think he could obey Voldemort's order this time, however, in spite of the intense pain, Draco crawled to Voldemort, on his hands and knees. His broken wrists sent fire up his arms.

"Now go back to your father and give him a blowjob. I want to believe you are going to come the minute he does."

Crying silently, Draco, unable to prevent his body from moving crawled back to his father and did as Voldemort ordered making the appropriate noises. When he finished, Voldemort stood. "Draco, I want you to lie on the edge of the bed, on your stomach." Draco moved to obey.

"Good. Now spread your legs...Wider." Draco sensed Voldemort next to him. "Now I command you to not move from this position no matter what." Draco's legs already ached and trembled from the position.

The whipping started without warning. Normally, his body would react no matter how hard he tried on previous occasions to stay still. Normally, by the third strike, Draco hips would dance to escape each lick of the whip, however, this time it required no effort on Draco's part to maintain this awkward position, as the pain intensified. The spell commanded his body. Blood ran down Draco's thighs before Voldemort was satisfied with the sport.

Voldemort tossed the whip to Lucius before he stepped between Draco's spread thighs and adjusted Draco's hips with cold hands. The violent thrusts rocked Draco forward, but Voldemort held onto his hips until Draco's blood loosened the passageway. Voldemort rubbed at the whip marks staining Draco's back and bit him on the shoulder, while racking his nails down Draco's sides. Draco almost fainted, but somehow he stayed conscious, and then it was over and suddenly he fell to the floor.

"Draco, stand up." Voldemort ordered.

This time Draco stayed on the ground panting and whimpering, unable to move.

"It worked!" Voldemort exclaimed excited. His father laughed with Voldemort.

"Draco, don't worry about standing. I will tell you about the spell I cast on you. Unbelievably, you are lucky to survive the casting. I have tried it ten times, and only two have survived. From now and until you die when someone touches the mark, Wizard, or Muggle, if they know the key word you will become that person's slave unable to resist any of their commands. Sex is the only way to break the hold of an individual owner however; the spell protects itself. You will not be able to tell anyone about it and there is no way to reverse it. Not even Dumbledore can undo this one." Voldemort started laughing at his own genius.

Draco's mind fell into a gray fog...and then Draco lost track of time, locked in this room servicing Voldemort and his followers...the potion kept him locked in sleep...


Grading homework assignments, listed among his least favorite tasks as a professor, Severus thought irritably, as another misspelled word caught his attention. A knock at his door was a welcome relief. "Come in!" He yelled.

A girl with rosy cheeks opened the door; out of breath, obviously having run to reach his room. "Professor, Madame Pomfrey needs you now." She said between deep breaths.

Severus looked at the time and realized three hours had passed since he had left the hospital ward. He ate lunch, and managed to finish most of his grading, since he decided to give a reading assignment instead of a lecture to all the classes.

"I'm on my way." Severus stood and walked quickly, cursing the large school. It took him fifteen minutes to reach the hospital wing. He opened the door without hesitation and stepped inside, to a scene that shook him to the core. Draco screaming, squirming on the bed, eyes closed, and as he, watched scratches appeared on Draco's chest. The sheets lay crumpled on the floor while Madame Pomfrey held Draco to prevent him from falling out of bed, acerbating his injuries.

"What happened?" He came to the bedside to help Madame Pomfrey hold Draco's convulsing body.

"I don't know! I was folding bed linens and, Mr. Malfoy, began to scream. Blood-curdling screams, I do not recall ever hearing such pain." She shuddered and rubbed her arms before continuing. "He had all these marks on his body like someone attacked him and then he fell silent, back asleep. I assumed his nightmare manifested, but as I was treating his broken wrists, it started again, not an hour later. There are wounds all over him again, even after I fixed the injuries." Near tears, she held one hand to her mouth watching Draco in horror.

Severus looked at the teenager, his skin now peppered with bites and scratches. For a minute or two, nothing happened. Severus twisted Draco's arm; the mark Voldemort branded onto his skin throbbed, black and red. A soul-searing scream of agony broke free, cracking Draco's voice. Blood gushed from the mark splattering Severus across the chest and face. Draco continued to scream and thrash, Severus heard bones cracking, and backed away from the bed.

He watched with the same horrified fascination as Madame Pomfrey, knowing those screams would visit him in his sleep. Abruptly, Draco's body fell limp and Severus realized he held his breath. Please be over, he prayed for an end. No one ever answered prayers though.

Draco's body tensed, he coughed, choking, and a bit of white fluid leaked from his mouth. Severus ran his finger across Draco's mouth; the smell confirmed his horrible suspicions. He wiped his hands on his robe and ran to his potion bag, which sat on Madame Pomfrey's desk. He had left it upstairs in case he needed to sedate Draco again. He knew he left potions in it to wake someone up. Severus unlatched the clasps as quickly as his shaking fingers allowed and pulled bottles out of the bag, dumping them on the desk.

"Professor, hurry! He's bleeding everywhere."

The door to the hospital ward opened and Hermione walked in. "I heard someone scream is everything all...?" She stopped her eyes riveted on Draco screaming and thrashing on the bed. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open.

"Get out of here!" He yelled at her, not waiting to see if she obeyed his orders. Blood continued to splatter Madame Pomfrey's white nurse apron; it looked like someone with no mercy using a whip on Draco.

Severus found a reversal potion at the bottom; he grabbed it with clammy hands and rushed over to Draco's side. He uncapped the bottle, opened Draco's mouth, and forced the bottle top in, before dumping the contents down Draco's throat, forcing Draco to swallow yet another potion in less than four hours time.

Instantaneous as the last potion, Draco's eyes snapped open, confused, in agony, and broken. Severus realized for the first time, the torture Draco endured during this nightmare happened to him in real life, and had changed Draco irrevocably.

Blood soaked into the bed beneath Draco, but Severus did not let go of Draco's shoulders. "Professor, hold Draco, I'm going to heal him again." Madame Pomfrey ordered and began to cast her spells...the scratches vanished first, if not the blood, then the whip marks faded to faint silver scars. The mark on Draco's arm continued to bleed in spite of all the healing spells Madame Pomfrey cast on it. She plastered a skin healing patch over the mark and continued her work.

She healed Draco's torn vocal cords next, and then moved down his body. Draco winced with every shift on the bed. The amount of blood between Draco's legs and the white substance trailing down Draco's thighs left little doubt someone had raped Draco.

When Madame Pomfrey finished, Draco rested his head exhaustedly against Severus's chest; his body trembled and shook in the aftermath of the experience. Draco clutched at Severus's robes; buried his head against Severus's chest and said so quietly, Severus doubted what he heard for a moment, "Please someone help me." He cried silently.

Severus held Draco in his arms, stunned by both the recent events and Draco's plea for help, how could he have been so careless? He did not hear the door open or the person who entered but the firm hand on his shoulder did not frighten him. He recognized Dumbledore's shoulder pats. "Hermione came and told me I'm needed here. It is okay to let Draco go now. We need to let him shower."

Severus glanced at Madame Pomfrey sitting on the bed next to Draco. She stared at Draco with the same dazed expression he knew he had on his own face.

"Of course," he responded absently, and gently peeled Draco's hands from his robes.

Draco looked up nose red from crying, hair sweat soaked, and awareness returning to his bloodshot eyes. His mouth tightened and his eyes slid away from meeting anyone else's gaze. "Is there a bathroom here?" Draco asked more collected with every passing second.

"Yes, it's through there." Madame Pomfrey pointed towards the end of the ward.

Severus reluctantly released Draco from his arms. He watched Draco slip out of bed and walk towards the bathroom, his dark shorts stained with blood and other fluids. The tips of Draco's hair, dark maroon, brushed against Draco's blood covered back. When the door to the bathroom closed, Severus went to the desk where he had left Draco's robe and clothing folded neatly on a seat, picked them up, and followed Draco to the bathroom.

Severus knocked on the door until Draco opened it, eyes expressionless. He decided to say nothing as he handed Draco his clothing. The door closed on his face and Severus stood, and stared at the door, wondering how to fix this situation. In all his years of learning magic and practicing it, he had never studied "Healing the Wizard’s Mind" a book of magical remedies for mentally troubled Wizards.

He walked back to the others. Madame Pomfrey already peeled the bloody sheets off the bed and asked his help to finish cleaning the mess; he helped her. Dumbledore sat at the desk, thinking; at least Severus hoped that is what the headmaster was doing because he was fresh out of ideas.


Draco closed the door in Professor Snape's face and leaned his head against the hard wood, humiliated and damnit still sore. The small bathroom provided a shower much like the one in the boy's dormitory. He peeled off his dirty shorts, and threw them in the trash, before stepping under the warm spray of water. The hot water soothed his sore muscles while blood stained water swirled at his bare feet, before draining.

He should just kill himself, Draco thought despairing. Barely able to think past the humiliation of Professor Snape, Madame Pomfrey, and the Headmaster seeing what Voldemort and his father had done to him.

At least Snape did not seem angry with him for destroying one of his potions.

What is wrong with me, Draco thought and angrily scrubbed himself harder with the soap, I had just woken up from the worst nightmare of the century and I am worried about someone's stupid potion? I should be angry, furious at Snape forcing me to take that damn sleeping potion. It is his fault I could not wake, his fault that I had to relive that horrible night repeatedly.

Draco turned off the water and roughly dried himself with the towel provided. Shame ate at him, but he could not hide from Dumbledore or Professor Snape forever, they already knew too much and now he wanted to sink into the floor like a puddle of water and float away somewhere new.

Dressed in clean clothes helped Draco feel almost human again; he took his time buttoning his robe, wondering what sort of reaction he could expect once he had left the small room. Knowing he could not hide any longer, he took a deep breath and opened the door. Two adults sat waiting for him. Madame Pomfrey was not in the room any longer, and he did not know if he was relieved or not. She was a woman he felt safer with her nearby. The bed he slept on earlier now stripped of its covers, looked bare. Professor Snape and Headmaster Dumbledore stood as he drew nearer. They both appeared deeply concerned but no longer confused, which relieved some of Draco's worry. Despite, everything, he still believed Professor Snape and Dumbledore, two of the strongest Wizards he knew and trusted, could help him out of this fix.

"Draco, how long have these dreams been manifesting themselves on your body?" Dumbledore asked right away, and moved aside to offer Draco a seat on the edge of the bed.

His mind drew blank for a moment as Draco fumbled for the answer he had not expected anyone to ask. "The second or third night after school started." He answered. "It wasn’t so bad at first." Draco said weary to the bottom of his feet. He had not slept a full night in weeks.

"I see," Dumbledore held his wand in his hand with a thoughtful look in his eyes. "I think this spell must have been cast when Voldemort's Shade attacked you. I checked you for other spells last time we were in here and found only one, but now something is causing your dreams to manifest and it is forcing certain dreams on you. It's a rather nasty spell, Professor Snape and I will search for a counter-spell, but until then, I have thought of a temporary solution." Before Dumbledore could continue, a soft knock at the door interrupted him.

"Come in, Ron we were waiting for you." Dumbledore said not bothering to look towards the door as it opened. Ron peeked inside before entering. Madame Pomfrey came in after Ron; her white apron streaked and splattered with blood chilled Draco.

Weasley stayed close by Madame Pomfrey, his eyes nervously danced between the three adults and Draco. Face flushed from exertion, they probably pulled him out of class and dragged him up many flights of stairs to reach this room without wasting much time. Madame Pomfrey did not appear out of breath though her pale cheeks had a reddish tinge to them now.

When the two reached the beds, Dumbledore placed a hand on Weasley's shoulder and guided him right to Draco, "Here, Ron, you may want to sit." Dumbledore said gently removing his hand from Weasley's shoulder only after the teenager sat down a few feet away from Draco. Weasley's confused expression would have been funny any other time; however, Draco did not want Ron to sit next to him. It made Draco nervous knowing Weasley could order him to jump out the window and he would have no choice but to obey.

Draco controlled his paranoia to some extent by remembering Weasley did not have the guts to commit murder, especially with three adult wizards in the same room. He kept his eyes trained the floor, mostly until Snape drew his attention.

Snape stood near the window; his black robes as clean as ever. Draco could not tell by the state of Snape's robes that the older man had wrestled him to the floor and dosed him with a potion. How Snape kept the wrinkles out of his robes was something Draco would like to learn.

"Hello is anyone home?" Weasley's voice barely concealed his concern. At Draco's blank expression, Weasley continued speaking. "Did you hear anything Dumbledore said?" The worry in Weasley's voice intensified.

Too tired for embarrassment or guilt, Draco did not apologize for his lack of attention. "I'm home, and I wasn't paying attention." Draco said after a few moments his voice curiously devoid of any emotion. The pain in his arm dimmed to a lower intensity after he answered Weasley's question.

"I'll repeat what I said for Draco's sake." Dumbledore said kindly, which surprised Draco, if he had ignored his father he could expect a beating at the very least.

"Draco, while you were in the shower I gave some thought to your problem and I believe I have a temporary solution for your nightmares. There is a spell that allows you to share someone else's dreams and if you consent, I can cast the spell so you will share Ron's dreams instead of having your own. I thought about taking away your ability to dream for a few days, with a Dreamless sleep potion, but you would not get any rest and it is dangerous to disrupt a natural cycle, such as sleep. I am not sure if your dreams will continue to manifest on your body, but I am hoping by sharing normal dreams the harmful spell cast on you will go away. Tonight, if this is acceptable for you, I'd like you and Ron to sleep here, so we can monitor your progress and make we can wake you up if anything unexpected starts to happen."

Draco looked at Weasley who had his feet on the mattress frame; he hugged his knees, and scowled. Uncertain, Draco tried to remember what it felt like to sleep normally. The pain from this morning fresh in his mind, Draco shuddered and looked for Snape again. The older man stood by the window gazing outside; obviously, Snape wanted him to make his own decision.

"I'll do it, but why, Weasley?" Draco asked quietly and honestly curious about Dumbledore's decision. Surely, Dumbledore could have picked someone who did not hate him.

Dumbledore gave him a long stare until Draco thought he would refuse to answer the question, but finally Dumbledore spoke. "Ron already knows some of what is happening and you are already bonded to him since he activated the spell Voldemort placed on you. Unless you would rather pick someone else you feel more comfortable with, Ron really is the best choice. While you were distracted, Ron agreed to go through with it, to help you out."

Surprised, Draco looked at Weasley again; now bright red. His eyes glittered with anger when he looked at him. "I still hate you Malfoy, but truly if this can stop your blasted screaming every night, then I'll do it, if for no other reason than I can finally get a full nights sleep."

"Mr. Weasley!" Madame Pomfrey exclaimed.

"It is okay, Madame Pomfrey." Dumbledore said quickly before she could say anything else, "Ron is expressing his true feelings and there is nothing wrong with that as long as he's still willing to help."

Skeptical, she left saying she would return in the evening.

Draco stared at Weasley, wondering if this was a good idea, dreaming Weasley's dreams. What if the other boy dreamed of Draco falling from a great height? Would he really die in real life if he hit the ground?

"Well there is no time like the present," Dumbledore said and cast the spell.

Draco did not feel any different. Weasley shrugged his shoulders at his curious glance. "Don't look at me. I can't tell the difference."

"And neither of you should feel different. The spell will only work while both of you are sleeping." Dumbledore said.

Snape came back from the window and stood opposite of Weasley. He added, "Headmaster, might I suggest we send Mr. Weasley on his way for now, we have matters to discuss with Mr. Malfoy."

Draco did not know what time it was but already he could see the red cast of the sun coming through the windows. Fall bringing earlier sunsets. Draco hoped that these "matters" would not take too long to discuss. His stomach growled for food.

"Ron, why don't you go downstairs and eat with your friends? Please come back at the tenth hour or earlier, tonight you'll need to sleep here." Dumbledore said.

"I'll return after I finish my homework," Ron promised and with one last glance at Draco, left the room.

Sitting on the bed Draco played with his robe, nervous now that the room was empty except for Professor Snape and Dumbledore. "Draco, I had not realized how traumatic your experiences were this summer until Professor Snape told me of what he and Madame Pomfrey saw happening to your body."

Dumbledore stood and paced towards the window, "Normally, in cases where a student is abused at home, I would contact the proper authorities and request a mind-healer to come and speak with the abused student. However, I have not done either of these two things because your tormentor is not someone without resources. I am afraid if I tried to seek professional help on your behalf, Voldemort or you father would discover we know of your abuse and pull you out of school."

Dumbledore paused and faced him; reminding Draco of the Headmaster's age. "I should have tried helping you from the beginning instead of letting you try to heal yourself. It is too late to go back in time and fix this mistake; however, it's not too late to find someone you can confide. Would you mind talking with Professor Snape?" Dumbledore asked and sat down again.

"I don't know what to do," Draco choked out his eyes burning with unshed tears. His fists clutched at his robes twisting the material.

"I recommend you take Dumbledore's advice. Mr. Weasley's permission is all you need to speak about what is troubling you." Snape said firmly.

"He already gave me permission to speak of whatever I want." Draco said re-gathering his composure.

Dumbledore replied, "But have you tried talking to anyone of what happened this summer?"

Draco frantically tried to recall any conversations where he could not speak of certain topics and realized he had not talked to anyone in ages, let alone enough to reach events over summer break. "No I haven't. There is no one I would want to talk to about this." He answered and kept his eyes downcast. He hated his fair skin; he could already feel the blush creeping up his cheeks, burning them. His heart beat faster and his palms sweated, this line of questioning bothered him terribly.

"Again, would you be comfortable talking with, Professor Snape?"

Feeling sick and upset at the prospect of having to share details of events he never wanted to remember he spoke out in haste, "No I can't talk to anyone about my past! Don't you understand it makes me sick just thinking of it? I feel sick at the thought of anyone knowing more." Draco had not realized he shouted or that he stood up until he looked down at Dumbledore, his fists clenched with rage. Shaking and nauseous, Draco stepped back, confused. He had not planned on yelling and Draco knew he would have hit Dumbledore if he had not come to his senses in time.

Dumbledore ignored his outburst and continued on, "Draco, you must realize that I cannot let you go on as you have been these past weeks, you are a student here and deserve help. If you cannot talk to someone here, I will send you to a hospital and let the medi-wizards work through the blocks and defenses and the scars left on your mind. If these aren't healed you will never reach your full potential as a wizard."

"I don't have a choice do I?" He asked and sat again. His mind ran in circles to find a way to convince Dumbledore he did not need to talk with anyone.

Exhaustion caught up with him like a blow, he couldn't handle this anymore, the fear, the orders, not having control over his own body. Knowing if he did not agree to speak with Professor Snape, Dumbledore would send him away, crushed him. Dumbledore knew! Dumbledore knew if Draco left Hogwarts, Voldemort would capture him again and completely break him this time or simply kill him. Draco could not fight back again.

Furious and betrayed, Draco flushed while his hands trembled. He wanted so badly to punch the older wizard it took all his control to stay seated. Hatred welled up inside him; he had hated Dumbledore before but never from the bottom of his soul, never as much as he hated Voldemort. There was no escaping Dumbledore and his ultimatum, where would he go?

"I'll speak with, Professor Snape." Draco bit out his body hot with fury. "May I leave now or did you want to give me more orders?"

"Draco, do not be upset, we are trying to help…" Dumbledore started to say more but Draco refused to sit around and listen a minute longer.

"Shut up, I said I'll talk with Professor Snape and I will. Just leave me alone, you disgust me." He stood and went to the desk; his wand lay near a pile of potion bottles. He ran out the room before he lost his nerve, slamming the door behind him.

Draco stood with his back against the door and wondered where to go. The angle of the shadows in the hall told him it was dinnertime, and for the first time in weeks, he actually felt hunger; shoulders slumped Draco headed downstairs.

He did not go far before Draco heard fast paced footsteps rushing towards him from behind. He barely had time to turn around and see Professor Snape his lips thinned and eyes furious, before Snape grabbed him by the arm and halted him. The grip hurt, but Draco refused to let the pain show. "What the hell was that for?" Snape asked, voice tight and low to avoid anyone overhearing him. His hand squeezed harder when Draco tried to pull free.

"Let go of me." Draco demanded yanking harder and becoming angrier by the moment.

"I don't think so. You are coming with me." Snape said and dragged him into an empty classroom. With a snort of contempt, Snape let go of Draco's arm and pushed him further into the classroom. Draco spun around to face Snape intending to yell, but the expression on Snape's face stopped the words from leaving his mouth. He glared at the older man but kept his silence waiting for Snape to speak.

Snape paced back and forth a few minutes, obviously too angry to speak. When he finally did speak, he sounded more in control of himself. "Tomorrow, at seven you are to have either Ron Weasley or Potter escort you to my workplace. It is private and no one ever shows up after dinner. You will arrive or you will go to Mungo. Your wand stripped from you, and banned from all Wizarding schools. Do I make myself clear?"

The words hit Draco like a hammer and he staggered backwards, his hip hit the desk behind him and he grabbed at it to keep from falling. Stunned by the pain of Snape's words, suddenly, Draco realized Professor Snape frightened him, the power his teacher had over him, and he couldn't leave Hogwarts. Besides, the staff at Hogwarts would find him if he ran away, and imprison him as efficiently as Voldemort did over the summer.

"Well answer me!" Snape demanded raising his voice.

To his shame, Draco burst into tears, why did Professor Snape have to be like Dumbledore, like Voldemort, like his father. "Fuck you! You know I don't have a choice! I said I would talk with you. What more do you want!" He wiped his arm over his eyes, wiping the tears away and tried to force himself to stop this damned crying.

"You and Dumbledore have no right to make me talk to anyone I don't want to. I am not so screwed in the head that I do not know what you are doing is wrong. How is this supposed to help me? You are no better than Voldemort!" Draco's yell, slightly muffled by a clogged nose echoed in the room, and out to the hall.

Snape stood with his arms folded across his chest his face turning whiter, whether in fury or shock, Draco could not tell. "Draco, I'm only worried about your welfare, after your shocking display of disrespect up in the hospital ward I didn't know what to expect. I certainly did not believe you would actually arrive at an appointed time. I know how difficult it is to speak of traumatic events."

"So now because I tell the old man what I've always thought of him, I'm shockingly disrespectful? What type of shit is that? You do not care about my health, you never ask what I want to do, you just order, and if I don't obey, you force me. This morning with the potion, I felt like you were raping me. I told you. NO I begged you to let me go to sleep on my own and you forced me to take that damned potion anyway!"

"Why you little brat! If I did not force you, take that potion no one would know about your "special" dreams. You would still go to sleep each night and re-live each rape this summer. Then have the nerve to walk into my classroom injured to such a point that anyone could tell you someone fucked you recently. You'd still be walking around like a kicked dog; no kicked dogs show more spirit than you." Snape's sneer at the end and the contempt in his eyes shocked Draco.

He tried to think of a fitting response but his mind still reeled under the impact of Snape's hateful words. He sat down suddenly, his legs no longer able to support him. "Those dreams were mine." He muttered shaking his head and bringing his knees up to his chest. For some reason, he was not crying. Maybe I had already cried the last of my tears he thought numbly. His mind hearing, Snape's words repeatedly. Everyone knows and that is why no one likes me. How could anyone respect a whore like me? Draco internalized, completely forgetting all the mean-spirited pranks and name calling he did his first four years of school.

"I want to go home." Draco said. He wished for the past to come back. To go to a home where his mother would run her fingers through his hair and tell him what a smart wonderful son she had. Where his father did not look at him with lust-filled eyes, where he felt safe, protected, and loved. Where, Draco did not loathe the image, which stared back at him from mirrors. Draco realized he truly had nowhere to go no real family, in a sense he was as orphaned as Harry Potter was, except at least Potter still had his Muggle family. All he had was the charity of the headmaster, or sexual slavery when he left Hogwarts. Insanity would not be such a bad choice he realized dimly.

A shadow standing over him distracted him from his dark thoughts; Snape sighed and knelt, right in front of Draco. "I apologize. If I had known about your dreams I never would have put you through that torture."

Snape paused; his eyes refused to let Draco look away. "Dumbledore asked me to help you. I know I am not qualified, but I do intend to help. Healing will require you to explorer suppressed emotions." Snape acerbic voice amused Draco.

His tone changed into something more compelling. "It is good that you are feeling angry and are capable of arguing. I believe you can fully heal from your ordeal." Professor Snape knelt less than a foot away. His face close enough to kiss, his voice low and earnest, filled with compassion Draco never expected to hear.

His last words broke a wall inside Draco, tears overfilled his eyes; Draco didn't fight when Snape drew him into a hug. He clung to Snape's robes and sobbed with his face buried against Snape's shoulder. Draco hated his father; he wished Snape were his father instead. Professor Snape always knew the right words to make him feel better.

Draco did not know how long they stayed on the floor, eventually Draco's sobs slowed and stopped, until he rested his head wearily on Snape's shoulder, drawing comfort from the safe human contact.

He did not mind the small pats on his back or the soft words of comfort, so out of character for Snape. By mutual consent, they broke apart. Draco blushed and looked down at the floor again; he let go of Snape's thick robe. "Sorry." He muttered and brushed it out nervously.

Snape stood and offered his hand. "No need to apologize. We have time to eat dinner if we hurry."

"Sure," Draco said and used Snape's hand to lift himself off the stone floor. His legs numb from sitting awkwardly barely cooperated. "I need to wash my face first." He added as Snape gently led him from the room.

"There is a bathroom down the hall. I'll wait for you." Snape said and closed the door behind them.