Undesirable - COMPLETE

Title: Undesirable
Authors: Slashpervert and Aveeno_baby.
Betas: Lbaum, Mini Mouse and 1over137pt036
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: ADULT!
Genre: Darkfic, Smut, Hurt/Comfort
Pairing: Harry/Draco primarily. Flashbacks to non-con with Harry/others.: Lucius/Voldemort, Harry/Lucius/Voldemort, Harry/multiple Death Eaters, Harry/Cormac/un-named woman, Harry/Voldemort.
Length: 80,000 words (31 Chapters)
Warnings: For the primary story: Language, Explicit, M/M Sex, Masturbation, Oral, Rimming, and Anal. Dubious consent for inappropriate behavior between therapist/patient. For the ten flashbacks: Language, M/M Sex, Explicit Violent Sex, Forced Anal, Forced Oral, Bondage, Dom/Sub, Rape, Humiliation, Exhibitionism, Pain, Violence, Blood, Torture, and other Character Deaths mentioned, three depicted. (Characters in this fiction are over 18.)
Summary: Draco Malfoy studied in France after the war and became a Healer. He returns to find Harry Potter is a mental patient. Malfoy is the only one who seems to be able to reach the war-traumatized hero. Will he risk his career to help Harry? Can Harry find his way back from the horrors of the past?
Notes: Post-war, AU after HBP, not DH compliant. Bulk of the story is post-war, but with ten flashbacks to during the war. While not a "song fic," this story did take some inspiration from songs "Unlovable" and "So Beautiful" by Darren Hayes.
Disclaimer: This is a non-commercial work of fan fiction intended for adult audiences only. No copyright infringement intended.

Chapter Number/Total: 1/31
Chapter Title: Undesirable Number One
Words: 2344 Words



Are my lips unkissable?
Are my eyes unlookable?
Is my sex undoable?
Am I unlovable?
Are my words unlistenable?
Are my hands untouchable?
Am I undesirable?
Am I unlovable?
-- from "Unlovable" by Darren Hayes


Draco stood with his arms crossed over his chest and scowled. He was looking through a magical one-way window into the observation room. "How long has he been like this?" he asked Healer Rogers standing next to him.

She shook her head. "He was bad after the final battle but we thought he was getting better," she said. "We released him. Apparently he got progressively worse. His friends found him like this in his home when they went to find out why he hadn't been answering them. That was almost two years ago."

Harry Potter, saviour of the wizarding world, defeater of Voldemort, was a mess. His black hair was ragged and matted, his skin sallow and his body skeletal-thin with his collarbone showing at the top of his pyjamas which hung loosely on his body. His glasses were missing. He sat hunched over in a hospital bed, babbling at no one. "They think I can't, but I can," Harry mumbled, looking suspiciously around the room, his knees pulled up to his chest. He was rocking as he mumbled and, at one point, his gaze stopped on the blank wall directly across from him. His eyes narrowed and his rocking increased. "I can, I can, I can ...."

In contrast, Draco was strong and muscular, his thin frame having filled out some since his days at Hogwarts. His hair was longer now, white blond, tied neatly back at his neck and flowing down over the stylish high collar of his green Healer's robes. "Where are his glasses?" Draco asked Rogers.

"Broken. Every time we repair or replace them, he breaks them again," she explained.

Draco shook his head. It was a horrible sight. Even at his worst moments when they were rivals, he would never have wished this on Potter. "Why me?" he asked the woman. "I just started my work here. I haven’t even been back in the country a week."

"We were wondering if someone from his past might be able to reach him," Rogers said. "He doesn't react to any of our staff. And he has become even more withdrawn when his friends come in. Maybe someone he didn’t like …."

"And if he ignores me?" Draco asked her.

"You won't know until you at least try," she said, scowling.

Draco nodded unhappily and walked to the door. He took a deep breath and opened the door, entering the observation room with nearly as much trepidation as he would if he were going to face a trial. He should know. He’d done that, of course.

***

After several more minutes of concentrating hard on the wall Harry looked away with a groan and down at himself, reaching to pull at the sleeve of his hospital pyjamas. He coughed and went silent, his attention focused now on a few loose threads on the sleeve. If he could pull them out it would make everything better again, he thought, nodding to himself and getting to work. He didn't look up when the door opened, still trying to catch the thread in between his fingertips.

Draco stood contemplating the man for a minute, watching the thin wrists and the bruised shadows lurking beneath those glazed green eyes. "And I thought you were a mess at school," he sneered. "Pathetic."

Harry went completely still at the sound of the voice. It was familiar, so familiar. Familiar was good sometimes, but this was bad. "Bad, bad," he whispered, peering up through his fringe at the blurry blond.

"Bad?" Draco asked. "I'm doing just fine. You are the one whimpering like a first year in Snape's detention."

Harry didn't like this at all. He glanced back at the blank wall for a moment before looking once more toward the figure of Malfoy. Getting into a slightly defensive pose on the bed, he growled, his fingers curling in the sheets.

"Growling?" Draco sneered. "What? Lupin bite you?"

Harry's eyes narrowed, his body beginning to rock on the bed again, as if he were planning on lunging at Malfoy. "Bad," he growled.

Draco frowned. He wasn't sure if the word "bad" was a response to him or not. He shook his head and turned to leave.

Harry stopped moving once Malfoy turned away, his fingers uncurling. "Malfoy," he said slowly, dragging the name out.

Draco's head snapped back and he stopped. He turned around and stared at Potter. Oh hell, he thought. "Yes, Potter, it's me," he answered.

Harry looked at him for a long moment, beginning to chew on his bottom lip. "You can't," he said, his lips quirking up in a strange smile. "You can't, no one can." He was biting down harder on his lip.

"Can't what, Potter?" Draco asked, keeping up the sneer that he hadn't spoken in since he left Hogwarts.

Harry shook his head firmly, finally biting through the skin of his lip. "You can't!" he exclaimed, as if it were the most obvious thing.

Draco looked past the bed to the observation wall – a one-way charm where he knew Rogers was watching on the other side. He shook his head. He knew this meant that "the patient" was responding to him. It meant Harry Potter was now his responsibility.

***

The cell was cold and damp. Harry had been beaten, stripped and then thrown into the dark stone room. Harry had no idea how long it had been since he had been captured. It seemed like weeks, but could have been only days. He had taken to slowly walking the best he could around the room in the beginning, trailing his hand along the walls to see just how big the room was. It was small and square and he could pace from corner to corner in four strides. When he wasn't pacing, he ended up sitting down and pulling his legs up to his chest to try and retain the heat in his body.

He had spent most of the last year on the run, hiding from Voldemort while hunting and destroying Horcruxes. It was ironic to have gotten so close, only to have been captured. At least the Horcrux they presumed to have been the last one, that fucking snake, was dead. But it would all be in vain now. The only thing he didn't understand was why Voldemort hadn't killed him already.

There was a muffled noise and then the door creaked open, the light blinding Harry. "Stand up," a voice barked from the painful light. Harry didn't get up, reaching instead to pull his glasses off and rub at his eyes.

The light was blocked momentarily as a shadow loomed over him, grabbing his hair and yanking him to his feet.

Harry groaned and reached up to scratch at the hand to let go of his hair, feeling very unstable on his feet after going so long without food. The hand released him quickly, dropping him to the floor and then he heard "Crucio" as the light of the spell blinded him again and the pain lashed through his body. Harry cried out, feeling nothing but complete and absolute torture. He writhed naked on the stone floor until the spell was stopped, leaving him gasping.

"Get up," an angry voice repeated.

Harry gathered up his strength, slowly rolling over, and got up, leaning against the wall.

"Hold out your hands," the man barked.

Harry hesitated, shakily pushing his glasses on first before he held them out, scowling at whoever the man was. Iron bands snapped into place around Harry's wrists, attached to a chain that the man then yanked forward. Harry stumbled and would've fallen if it weren't for the chain holding him up.

Two Death Eaters, in the usual black robes and masks, with wands drawn, led him down dark stone halls and through a big wooden door into a large bedroom chamber. A fire crackled in a stone hearth, a rug and chairs in front of it. A large ornate bed dominated the room. No one was immediately visible but the guards shoved Harry to his knees.

Harry groaned as his already sore knees were slammed into the stone of the floor. He quickly looked around the big room, almost glad that he managed to still have his glasses, even though one of the lenses had cracked. Where was he now?

"Leave him," Voldemort's voice said from one of the chairs whose back was still to them. Harry saw a white bony hand wave at them. The guards backed out and left him on the floor, closing the door behind them.

Harry froze, his head snapping in the direction of the voice. His hands clenched into fists and he wished he had his wand, because then he could finally kill Voldemort ... once and for all.

There was a table to the side and Harry could smell food, the thick smell of roast and spices. His gaze wandered over to the table next to him, his stomach grumbling loudly at the smell. He flushed. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten.

"Hungry, Harry?" Voldemort asked, casually.

Harry frowned but didn't reply, glaring a hole into the back of the chair.

"I suppose he will just have to watch us eat then," Voldemort said. "What do you think, Lucius?”

Harry didn't know where Lucius was and ended up directing his glare around the entire room.

Lucius sat forward in the other chair, looking over his shoulder at Potter. His long white-blond hair flowed down his back.

"Bastard," Harry growled once he got a view of Lucius.

Lucius laughed and got to his feet, revealing he was wearing only a black silk dressing gown. He padded barefoot over to the table and picked up a strawberry from a bowl, turning to look at Harry while he slowly ate the fruit.

Harry looked away with yet another scowl on his face, his stomach grumbling again.

Voldemort rose then, too. Wearing a similar robe in a shade of dark red, he walked up to Lucius and trailed his fingers down the other man's hair.

Harry tried not to look at either of the men, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of his attention.

Lucius lifted another strawberry to his master's lips, feeding it to him. Voldemort licked the other man's fingers when he had taken the last bite.

Harry swallowed, the smell of the food that was still floating in the air making him feel a little lightheaded. He made the mistake of looking over at the table and caught the act between Voldemort and Lucius, almost making his stomach heave. It was strange to think of the two of them dressed as they were and lovers apparently.

Lucius looked over, catching Harry's eyes and smiling. He lifted his wand then and gestured upward. The chain jerked upward, pulling Harry until he was on the balls of his feet, shoulders aching from the rough treatment. Harry gasped loudly in surprise, gritting his teeth when he was unable to relieve the pressure on his shoulders.

Lucius walked slowly forward. "Well, I guess we will skip your meal then and move on to the entertainment."

Harry ignored the other man and tried to pull his hands out of the cuffs, closing his eyes as it only made spikes of pain run down his arms.

Lucius flicked his wand, muttering and Harry felt the Scourgify over his entire body. Harry made a face at the tingling feeling the spell left behind, not expecting that to be used on him at all.

Lucius stepped in front of Harry, reaching manicured fingers out to ghost over Harry's chest and Harry tried his best to arch away from the fingers, not wanting them to ever touch his skin.

Voldemort laughed. "Well, he has refused the food and your gentle touch, Lucius. I suppose you will have to try a different approach."

Harry cringed at the sound of Voldemort's laugh, not knowing what to think might happen next.

"You have a choice, Harry," Lucius said. "You can cooperate, and we will be more gentle and even feed you. Or … we can break you."

Harry's hands clenched into fists once again. "I'd rather die than cooperate with the likes of the two of you," he said firmly, obviously choosing the second choice.

"Not a choice we will give you," Voldemort said, "not until we are done with you."

Lucius stepped back. "Candens Flagellum," he said, as he flicked his wrist again and white strands shot out of the tip on of his wand. He swirled it and the strands moved. "We are going to make you beg, Harry," he whispered.

Harry watched, not sure of what Malfoy was doing until he moved his wand, the strands slicing through the air as though it could have been some kind of a whip. Harry's eyes widened and he tried to shift away, even though it was no use. Lucius smiled and flicked his wrist, the white strands wrapping about the front of Harry's body. Every point of contact was suddenly searing pain. A scream was ripped from Harry's throat before he could stop it, his eyes squeezing tightly shut.

Lucius drew the magic whip back again, and it felt like it tore Harry's skin with it. The next blow landed across Harry's back, wrapping up around his right side. Tears of pain sprang to Harry's eyes, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He struggled to get away, but he knew there was no point.

The third blow was laid across Harry's buttocks, ends of the whip strands wrapping around his right hip. He writhed in the chains, shoulders aching as it felt like his arms were ripping out their sockets. After that he lost count, the searing agony blending into a fire that seemed to consume him. He did beg eventually, helpless, whimpering and screaming, but Lucius never stopped.


[This story is written and proofreading is being finished by our betas. We expect to publish at least three chapters a week – probably Monday, Wednesday, Friday - until the story is complete.]