Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Fu Inle ❯ 19 ( Chapter 19 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: flight815kitsune 
Non Anime: Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Psychological / Hentai / Drama / Shounen | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 09.17.2009 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.4K | Visits: 451 | Status: Work In Progress
Non Anime: Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Psychological / Hentai / Drama / Shounen | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 09.17.2009 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.4K | Visits: 451 | Status: Work In Progress
19.
I know I’m WAY behind with posting, but...let’s just say life has been uncooperative. I’ll try to be faster next time. Thanks go to those who’ve continued to read! Enjoy the long-ish chapter! Also, I don’t own the Potterverse, Rowling does.
Severing charms aren’t pleasant. So...it would only make sense that they would be used in torture. And since they were used in torture it should have come as no surprise that, when information needed to be taken from a certain blonde, they would be utilized.
“Our lord is displeased.”
Chained, an oak table hard against his back. No...
“You still haven’t answered his questions, Draco.”
The charm is sent, and pain envelops his foot. Hot blood runs towards his heel. With a low chuckle, Lucius picks up a small piece of flesh and bone. “This little piggy went to market...” He holds it up in front of his son’s face before returning it to the table.
“I’ve done nothing wrong.” He cries out.
“Tsk...” Another charm. “This little piggy stayed home.”
Fighting against the restraints.
“This little piggy had roast beef.”
Moaning, squirming. “I don’t know.”
“This little piggy had none.”
“I didn’t do anything!”
“I can do this for as long as I have to. This little piggy went, “WeeWeeWee” all the way home.”
Eyes snapping open. Damn.
Harry’s arms across his chest. A tight hug.
He caught me.
“It’s alright.”
I don’t care. Why did I have to...Holding his breath. I’m better than this.
“I’m not mad or anything.” He yawns burying his face into Draco’s shoulder. “I just wish you weren’t so loud.”
Great. I might have woken them up...
“If you want, I can go sleep in the other room or something?”
“I’m not relocating you in your own house.” His hands rest on top of Harry’s. “Now shut up and go back to sleep.” We can stay like this.
“You shut up...”he mumbles.
Sleep rushes in before argument does.
Waking up warm.
A gentle rap on the open door, likely not the first, demands attention.
Draco pulls away stretching, yawning. “What?” Climbing out of bed in his underwear.
Blaise frowns in the doorway, freshly clothed, sleep having obviously done some good. “Breakfast is ready. That old elf said so.” He glances at the sleeping Harry. Disgust rests in his eyes, cruel and unwavering. “Wake him up.”
He’s gone before anything can be said.
Great. Now his behavior’ll be unpredictable. I wonder if he thinks I’m a slut, or just weak? Things just moved so fast. Maybe I can try to explain? ...He just had to complicate things...
He pulls on the abandoned jeans. The wands are a mess on the floor. I might need this. He snatches his own up and goes downstairs.
Blaise and Pansy are in the dining room. She rests a hand on his shoulder as he whispers something low and clearly cruel. She shakes her head, but doesn’t say a word.
She looks better. She must have fixed her hair last night...Draco clears his throat and grabs the chair opposite Blaise. “What is it?”
A sneer rests on his housemate’s face. “You’re pitiful.”
“And why is that?”
“There are limits. Even we have to draw the line somewhere, Draco. Being Potter’s little whore crosses that line.”
“I’m not being used like that.”
“Told you.” Pansy remarks. “Like he would even think of doing Potter, of all people.” Looking to him, waiting to see him laugh.
Silent, breaking eye contact.
“Draco?”
“See. He’s Potter’s slut. We both heard you, and I found you in bed with him. Have you lost every sense of honor? Revenge?”
Draco sighs. “Things between Potter and I are...complicated.”
“He can’t be a bad guy, Blaise. He did save us.”
“It’s probably part of some plan. We should go while we have a chance.”
There’s a moment of silence before Draco finally speaks.“Can you imagine what it’s like to have someone say they love you?”
“Potter said what? When?” Pansy’s eyes grow wide as she balances on the edge of her seat. Her fingers weave together, and it wasn’t hard to picture her spreading rumors.
“Well, technically, he didn’t say it. He doesn’t have to.”
Kreacher brings a few loaded trays to the table, struggling with the weight.
“I told you he always finds a way, Blaise. He has Harry head-over-heels, he’s living in a position to take revenge, and we have been given a chance to seize this opportunity. They came and saved us. They didn’t have to do that. The least you can do is let it go. If Potter wants to use him, and it guarantees a life for us, I say let him. More so if Draco has no objections. I know I’d put up with it to keep this.”
“But you’re a girl! I wouldn’t expect you to take care of yourself. Everyone knows you’re bound to bounce from man to man until a good fuck with cash comes along.”
“Really? Nice to know the expectations are so high!” She huffs. “But what do I expect with what you’ve learned from your mother.”
Blaise helps himself to orange juice and pancakes. He shrugs. “Not gonna lie to you.”
A small smile escapes as he remembers the old Blaise and grabs some food from the elf’s offering. I guess there’s still hope for him.
“So, Draco...what do you mean when you say ‘complicated ’?” Pansy asks, her fork twirling to accent the last word.
“Well...”
As if on cue, the door slams open.
A figure stumbles in, coated in blood, torn clothing, and what appears to be scraps from a butcher shop. Bone and muscle, blood and guts. A ratty broom is dragged behind, loosing straw along the way. He stares back through the open door, winded and limping. A mess of red hair makes his identity clear.
“Weasley?”
He turns and catches sight of the Slytherins. Frozen in place, he shakes his head. “No. No. Nononono.”
“...Ron.” I need to get his attention, his trust. “What’s wrong?”
He falls to his knees, shaking with sobs. “They’re following me. I’ve led them right to Harry, haven’t I? No one was supposed to be here!” He pounds the floor. “Not him, too...”
“Blaise, go get Potter. Now.” Draco races to close the open door. “Grab Pansy’s wand!” He shouts as an afterthought. We need to secure this place...Why aren’t they attacking yet? We need to know more information. “Weasley? Are you sure you’re being followed?” He attempts to get the redhead off his knees. Pansy helps, but Ron won’t move.
“They’ll follow me...They killed her, and all I did was watch. They made me watch. I was next...” Tears leave streaks down his face.
“Who? Who would be following you?”
“I don’t know. They wore the masks...they cut her, and then...boom. There was nothing I could do. They started on me...why could I fight for myself and not her? Why couldn’t I save her? She just kept screaming...” More sobs. A trail of blood runs down his arm to the floor, meeting stained pants and a shoe-less foot.
“You said they hurt you? I’m going to clean you up, alright... How many were there?” This is getting me nowhere. “Pansy, help me get his shirt off. We need to see the extent of the damage.”
The brunette nods. Her hands are trembling as she peels wet cloth from skin.
She shouldn’t have to deal with this so soon. I should have worked on potions yesterday. We aren’t prepared for this, and he’s not helping... By some miracle, they manage to get the shirt up to his shoulders. A tug gets the collar over his head., and the mess falls to a pile around his wrists.
The gashes are deep, down to the bone in some places. Skin and muscle hang in strips. A few slices continue around his sides, towards his chest. “Shit, Weasley. I can’t fix anything this bad...” There are mediwitches who haven’t seen stuff like this.
“I can’t remember how many. Two, maybe...I couldn’t fight off two?”
Blaise runs down the stairs, skipping the last few in a leap. He tosses Pansy her wand. “Potter’ll be down soon.”
“He’s aware this is an emergency, right?” Running out of things to say. So many unanswered questions, so much not under control.
“Yes. I made sure the message of his friend bleeding to death was fairly clear.”
Ron sobs, still unmoving from his hands and knees.
I don’t know how to handle this... Panic rears it’s angry head.
“He’s not going to die.” Pansy touches the injuries lightly, her wand following every mark. Words are whispered, low and repeating.
Harry thunders down, arms full of books, vials, and what appears to be a cauldron full of potions supplies.
While Blaise lessens the load, Pansy’s voice continues in the background, soft and steady.
Ron falls forward with a thump.
Pansy stops anyone from drawing nearer by holding up her hand and continuing her work.
“Is he alright?” Harry asks. His voice cracks. One hand holds Draco’s in a vice.
“He’ll live. The injuries to his chest and leg still need attention, though. And we might need to use some blood replenishing potion.”
Blaise hovers around the stairs, separating vials and flipping through a book. He glances up and catches Draco’s eye. His gaze shifts to Harry, then the kitchen. Though his attention returns to the book, he mouths the words “Tell him.”
tell? He thinks it over. ...Granger. The blood and bits on the floor are suddenly more gory. “Harry? I need to tell you something.” He takes a slight step towards the nearest room with a door.
Harry looks torn, rooted in place.
“We’ll be right back, and he’s in capable hands right now, anyway.” I can’t do this. I can’t just say, “oh, your friend’s dead.” Another slight pull.
This time Harry does follow.
The kitchen door clicks softly behind them.
“Weasley is quite a mess.” Maybe he’s wrong? Maybe it was an illusion or something? No. She wasn’t pureblood...They had no need for her.
“Yeah. But he made it here. This place may be old, but I think it’s tougher than Moody gave it credit for. Unless he gave them the address, we’ll be safe.”
“He said some things before...” I can only go on his word. Maybe we can get more info when he’s healed...no. It can’t wait. It’s important. That couldn’t have all been his blood, and those pieces in his hair, on his clothes...
“I’m sorry if he insulted any of you. He doesn’t really mean anything by it.” He sits on an old carved wooden chair.
“No. He was afraid he was being followed, and he thought no one was here. I don’t know what he was thinking. He didn’t think to insult us...he was more concerned about you.” He didn’t want to see both his friends die in the course of a day. If they come...you’re next.
“I’m just glad he made it back to us in...mostly one piece. One less person to search for.”
“Two.”
“What?”
“There are two people you don’t have to look for.” I should just leave. I can’t do this. I can’t watch him break. Hand on the doorknob.
Silence.
“She’s gone...He thinks it’s his fault.” But I can’t leave him, either. He wouldn’t like that. “I’m sorry.” I should hug him or something. That’s what they do when they’re upset, right?
“You’re lying.”
“What?”
“You shouldn’t joke about stuff like that.” He can’t hide the knowledge of the truth in his voice.
...right. He goes to Harry, and wraps his arms around him. Now what?
“She’s not. She can’t be...” Sniffing as he buries his face into Draco’s shoulder.
A soft whispered “Harry...” what can I say?
“Why none of his people? What good are we?” He sobs, tears quickly soaking the shirt. “We can’t even protect ourselves.”
Unable to move, unable to react. Simply standing there as time stretches on.
Harry...
I know I’m WAY behind with posting, but...let’s just say life has been uncooperative. I’ll try to be faster next time. Thanks go to those who’ve continued to read! Enjoy the long-ish chapter! Also, I don’t own the Potterverse, Rowling does.
Severing charms aren’t pleasant. So...it would only make sense that they would be used in torture. And since they were used in torture it should have come as no surprise that, when information needed to be taken from a certain blonde, they would be utilized.
“Our lord is displeased.”
Chained, an oak table hard against his back. No...
“You still haven’t answered his questions, Draco.”
The charm is sent, and pain envelops his foot. Hot blood runs towards his heel. With a low chuckle, Lucius picks up a small piece of flesh and bone. “This little piggy went to market...” He holds it up in front of his son’s face before returning it to the table.
“I’ve done nothing wrong.” He cries out.
“Tsk...” Another charm. “This little piggy stayed home.”
Fighting against the restraints.
“This little piggy had roast beef.”
Moaning, squirming. “I don’t know.”
“This little piggy had none.”
“I didn’t do anything!”
“I can do this for as long as I have to. This little piggy went, “WeeWeeWee” all the way home.”
Eyes snapping open. Damn.
Harry’s arms across his chest. A tight hug.
He caught me.
“It’s alright.”
I don’t care. Why did I have to...Holding his breath. I’m better than this.
“I’m not mad or anything.” He yawns burying his face into Draco’s shoulder. “I just wish you weren’t so loud.”
Great. I might have woken them up...
“If you want, I can go sleep in the other room or something?”
“I’m not relocating you in your own house.” His hands rest on top of Harry’s. “Now shut up and go back to sleep.” We can stay like this.
“You shut up...”he mumbles.
Sleep rushes in before argument does.
Waking up warm.
A gentle rap on the open door, likely not the first, demands attention.
Draco pulls away stretching, yawning. “What?” Climbing out of bed in his underwear.
Blaise frowns in the doorway, freshly clothed, sleep having obviously done some good. “Breakfast is ready. That old elf said so.” He glances at the sleeping Harry. Disgust rests in his eyes, cruel and unwavering. “Wake him up.”
He’s gone before anything can be said.
Great. Now his behavior’ll be unpredictable. I wonder if he thinks I’m a slut, or just weak? Things just moved so fast. Maybe I can try to explain? ...He just had to complicate things...
He pulls on the abandoned jeans. The wands are a mess on the floor. I might need this. He snatches his own up and goes downstairs.
Blaise and Pansy are in the dining room. She rests a hand on his shoulder as he whispers something low and clearly cruel. She shakes her head, but doesn’t say a word.
She looks better. She must have fixed her hair last night...Draco clears his throat and grabs the chair opposite Blaise. “What is it?”
A sneer rests on his housemate’s face. “You’re pitiful.”
“And why is that?”
“There are limits. Even we have to draw the line somewhere, Draco. Being Potter’s little whore crosses that line.”
“I’m not being used like that.”
“Told you.” Pansy remarks. “Like he would even think of doing Potter, of all people.” Looking to him, waiting to see him laugh.
Silent, breaking eye contact.
“Draco?”
“See. He’s Potter’s slut. We both heard you, and I found you in bed with him. Have you lost every sense of honor? Revenge?”
Draco sighs. “Things between Potter and I are...complicated.”
“He can’t be a bad guy, Blaise. He did save us.”
“It’s probably part of some plan. We should go while we have a chance.”
There’s a moment of silence before Draco finally speaks.“Can you imagine what it’s like to have someone say they love you?”
“Potter said what? When?” Pansy’s eyes grow wide as she balances on the edge of her seat. Her fingers weave together, and it wasn’t hard to picture her spreading rumors.
“Well, technically, he didn’t say it. He doesn’t have to.”
Kreacher brings a few loaded trays to the table, struggling with the weight.
“I told you he always finds a way, Blaise. He has Harry head-over-heels, he’s living in a position to take revenge, and we have been given a chance to seize this opportunity. They came and saved us. They didn’t have to do that. The least you can do is let it go. If Potter wants to use him, and it guarantees a life for us, I say let him. More so if Draco has no objections. I know I’d put up with it to keep this.”
“But you’re a girl! I wouldn’t expect you to take care of yourself. Everyone knows you’re bound to bounce from man to man until a good fuck with cash comes along.”
“Really? Nice to know the expectations are so high!” She huffs. “But what do I expect with what you’ve learned from your mother.”
Blaise helps himself to orange juice and pancakes. He shrugs. “Not gonna lie to you.”
A small smile escapes as he remembers the old Blaise and grabs some food from the elf’s offering. I guess there’s still hope for him.
“So, Draco...what do you mean when you say ‘complicated ’?” Pansy asks, her fork twirling to accent the last word.
“Well...”
As if on cue, the door slams open.
A figure stumbles in, coated in blood, torn clothing, and what appears to be scraps from a butcher shop. Bone and muscle, blood and guts. A ratty broom is dragged behind, loosing straw along the way. He stares back through the open door, winded and limping. A mess of red hair makes his identity clear.
“Weasley?”
He turns and catches sight of the Slytherins. Frozen in place, he shakes his head. “No. No. Nononono.”
“...Ron.” I need to get his attention, his trust. “What’s wrong?”
He falls to his knees, shaking with sobs. “They’re following me. I’ve led them right to Harry, haven’t I? No one was supposed to be here!” He pounds the floor. “Not him, too...”
“Blaise, go get Potter. Now.” Draco races to close the open door. “Grab Pansy’s wand!” He shouts as an afterthought. We need to secure this place...Why aren’t they attacking yet? We need to know more information. “Weasley? Are you sure you’re being followed?” He attempts to get the redhead off his knees. Pansy helps, but Ron won’t move.
“They’ll follow me...They killed her, and all I did was watch. They made me watch. I was next...” Tears leave streaks down his face.
“Who? Who would be following you?”
“I don’t know. They wore the masks...they cut her, and then...boom. There was nothing I could do. They started on me...why could I fight for myself and not her? Why couldn’t I save her? She just kept screaming...” More sobs. A trail of blood runs down his arm to the floor, meeting stained pants and a shoe-less foot.
“You said they hurt you? I’m going to clean you up, alright... How many were there?” This is getting me nowhere. “Pansy, help me get his shirt off. We need to see the extent of the damage.”
The brunette nods. Her hands are trembling as she peels wet cloth from skin.
She shouldn’t have to deal with this so soon. I should have worked on potions yesterday. We aren’t prepared for this, and he’s not helping... By some miracle, they manage to get the shirt up to his shoulders. A tug gets the collar over his head., and the mess falls to a pile around his wrists.
The gashes are deep, down to the bone in some places. Skin and muscle hang in strips. A few slices continue around his sides, towards his chest. “Shit, Weasley. I can’t fix anything this bad...” There are mediwitches who haven’t seen stuff like this.
“I can’t remember how many. Two, maybe...I couldn’t fight off two?”
Blaise runs down the stairs, skipping the last few in a leap. He tosses Pansy her wand. “Potter’ll be down soon.”
“He’s aware this is an emergency, right?” Running out of things to say. So many unanswered questions, so much not under control.
“Yes. I made sure the message of his friend bleeding to death was fairly clear.”
Ron sobs, still unmoving from his hands and knees.
I don’t know how to handle this... Panic rears it’s angry head.
“He’s not going to die.” Pansy touches the injuries lightly, her wand following every mark. Words are whispered, low and repeating.
Harry thunders down, arms full of books, vials, and what appears to be a cauldron full of potions supplies.
While Blaise lessens the load, Pansy’s voice continues in the background, soft and steady.
Ron falls forward with a thump.
Pansy stops anyone from drawing nearer by holding up her hand and continuing her work.
“Is he alright?” Harry asks. His voice cracks. One hand holds Draco’s in a vice.
“He’ll live. The injuries to his chest and leg still need attention, though. And we might need to use some blood replenishing potion.”
Blaise hovers around the stairs, separating vials and flipping through a book. He glances up and catches Draco’s eye. His gaze shifts to Harry, then the kitchen. Though his attention returns to the book, he mouths the words “Tell him.”
tell? He thinks it over. ...Granger. The blood and bits on the floor are suddenly more gory. “Harry? I need to tell you something.” He takes a slight step towards the nearest room with a door.
Harry looks torn, rooted in place.
“We’ll be right back, and he’s in capable hands right now, anyway.” I can’t do this. I can’t just say, “oh, your friend’s dead.” Another slight pull.
This time Harry does follow.
The kitchen door clicks softly behind them.
“Weasley is quite a mess.” Maybe he’s wrong? Maybe it was an illusion or something? No. She wasn’t pureblood...They had no need for her.
“Yeah. But he made it here. This place may be old, but I think it’s tougher than Moody gave it credit for. Unless he gave them the address, we’ll be safe.”
“He said some things before...” I can only go on his word. Maybe we can get more info when he’s healed...no. It can’t wait. It’s important. That couldn’t have all been his blood, and those pieces in his hair, on his clothes...
“I’m sorry if he insulted any of you. He doesn’t really mean anything by it.” He sits on an old carved wooden chair.
“No. He was afraid he was being followed, and he thought no one was here. I don’t know what he was thinking. He didn’t think to insult us...he was more concerned about you.” He didn’t want to see both his friends die in the course of a day. If they come...you’re next.
“I’m just glad he made it back to us in...mostly one piece. One less person to search for.”
“Two.”
“What?”
“There are two people you don’t have to look for.” I should just leave. I can’t do this. I can’t watch him break. Hand on the doorknob.
Silence.
“She’s gone...He thinks it’s his fault.” But I can’t leave him, either. He wouldn’t like that. “I’m sorry.” I should hug him or something. That’s what they do when they’re upset, right?
“You’re lying.”
“What?”
“You shouldn’t joke about stuff like that.” He can’t hide the knowledge of the truth in his voice.
...right. He goes to Harry, and wraps his arms around him. Now what?
“She’s not. She can’t be...” Sniffing as he buries his face into Draco’s shoulder.
A soft whispered “Harry...” what can I say?
“Why none of his people? What good are we?” He sobs, tears quickly soaking the shirt. “We can’t even protect ourselves.”
Unable to move, unable to react. Simply standing there as time stretches on.
Harry...