Derailed

PART TWO

Chapter One: Somehow I'm neither here nor there

“Wh-what?” Harry groaned, trying to lift a hand to his aching head.

Although groggy, he woke up instantly when he realised he was strapped to an uncomfortable surface. His green eyes snapped around, searching for Snape, but the man wasn’t there. This wasn’t the room he had been imprisoned in. It looked like a … hospital?!

“Ah, Potter,” it was a witch wearing a lime green set of robes decorated with a crossed bone and wand. It took Harry a few minutes to make the connection to a dim memory. Healers. Was he in St Mungo's?

“How are you feeling?” The witch touched his forehead, eyes narrowing as he flinched away. He never wanted to be touched again. But why was he here, rather than in that room, begging Snape to hurt Ron in his place?

His face reddened as he remembered his cowardice. But how much more could he have been expected to take? How could he have allowed himself to be raped by Death Eaters when all he craved was Snape's penis claiming him?

The nurse frowned at him. “Don’t you remember?”

He shook his head, then winced as lights began flashing behind his eyes. He struggled weakly against the restraints. She sighed, reaching for a bottle of salve, and began applying it to his reddened wrists. Harry grit his teeth, wanting to scream at her to get off him. Once she had finished she spoke.

“Three days ago now, a rescue operation was mounted to retrieve you and Mr Weasley. It was undertaken by members of the Order. Some of the Death Eaters have been arrested and await trial. Unfortunately, You-Know-Who escaped in the commotion.” She looked at Harry as though expecting him to be upset at the news. He wasn't. Snape was what concerned him.

“Both you and Mr Weasley were very ill when we found you, and you have been strapped down to prevent you harming yourself. It is vital you recover soon as your memories will prove crucial to convict them. We have cast strong wards around this room so that no-one may enter without proper authorisation. You are both completely safe here.” She glanced towards the bedside table and added, “Oh, and your wands were retrieved from the Manor.”

“Snape?” Harry choked out, unable to truly comprehend what she was saying – she kept swimming in and out of focus. He felt a weird twist in his gut as he wondered what had become of his captor.

An odd tone in her voice, the woman went on, “Severus Snape will be tried along with the others captured. Now you need to rest as once you are well enough, the Aurors would like to take your statement. Mr Weasley's too.”

She began to pull down the bed clothes, salve in hand, and Harry's eyes widened and his heart pounded in terror as he realised where she was going to apply the goop.

“What’s Ron got to do with it?” he asked, desperate to stop her from seeing what had been done to him, and frantic lest she touch him where he had been so miserably hurt and pleasured.

“He was badly treated too,” the nurse said, sounding surprised that Harry didn’t know. “You were both conscious when we rescued you, and you saw Mr Weasley. Do you not recall that?” Worry had crept into her voice at Harry’s memory loss. She loosened the straps around his legs and began to push his thighs apart. Harry thrashed wildly, sobbing at her to get off him. In his panic and shame he kicked out and caught her in her side, sending her crashing into the bedside table.

The noise brought other Healers. They helped her up and grabbed at Harry's flailing legs.

“NO!” Harry screamed, completely terrified, “NO! GET OFF ME! DON'T TOUCH ME! LEAVE ME ALONE!” He was crying, tears coursing freely down cheeks that burned with humiliation.

A wizard snatched a bottle up and forced Harry to drink the fluid. He gagged, struggling, but as the potion hit, he calmed, subdued by the liquid he had been made to consume.

Body lax and mind wandering, he couldn't fight as his legs were held apart and salve rubbed against his swollen anus. He shuddered internally, unable to do so in reality, as a finger pushed within him, coating his passage with the healing substance. He felt arousal curling in the pit of his stomach, but couldn't even harden. Salve was circled on and around his nipples, and he could only watch as his top was abruptly pulled back into place after they had 'treated' him. His legs were put back in the straps and he was left alone.

Harry frowned, thinking as intently as his drugged and battered body would allow. Nothing came to mind except those last awful moments with Snape when he had pleaded for Ron to take the coming abuse, not him.
 

The witch hadn't quite fully retreated. She was watching him with pity and some guilt in her eyes. Their treatment of his physical injuries had to come first. Harry's mental trauma would have to wait until his body had healed. Looking at him, fingers still sticky with the salve she had applied to his unwilling body, she felt as though she were as much his abuser as the man who had forced himself inside Harry's body.

She left him drifting in a cloud of drugs, moving to the man in the next bed, who had been drugged since his rescue, so luckily Harry's distressed screams hadn't disturbed him.

Ron, trapped in his mind, was mentally screaming. In his head he was still being tortured and raped by Lucius Malfoy, and he couldn't move. No part of his body would respond. He sobbed internally, a lone tear trailing down his frozen cheek. In his addled state, he was lying on the floor, Lucius' cock raping him whilst he bled all over the stones, but he couldn't move, couldn't scream, couldn't beg for mercy. He just lay there, a helpless body being used by Lucius. And then the memory darkened – Draco was there, his body as unaroused as possible, but forced by his father to shove his penis into Ron's mouth. Ron lay there, unable to react, to suck or lick or do anything that would get Draco out of him. He couldn't bite or show any kind of resistance. There was nothing he could do as the younger Malfoy came to reluctant hardness and spilled down his raw throat.

Through the stillness forced on him by the potion, Ron moaned in utter desolation.

Harry turned his head at the noise but couldn’t focus on who was making it or why: the potion pumping through his veins made thought too difficult. His mind struggled to hold any thought for very long and he soon forgot the moan. He thought of Snape and hated himself for feeling an aching emptiness that needed Snape's cock to fill, feeling the need for the other man's penis to force its way between his legs and possess him.

His relaxed muscles couldn't even let him clutch at the bedsheets as the horror of his need washed over him. He could only cry, unable to move as he dreamt of Snape flipping him face down onto the bed and ramming his cock hard inside. In his dream he couldn't turn his head and struggled to breathe through the bed clothes bunched up under him. He heard and felt every moment of Snape taking his pleasure from Harry's body. Physically he was soft but mentally he felt aroused. His cock was unable to fill so he couldn't enjoy the brutality of Snape's passion, couldn't do anything other than lie there, gasping with the remembered force of the thrusts into his limp body and ache for climax. He felt the shudder Snape gave as he spilled his seed, and Harry clenched his ass, but nothing happened. He was just a useless thing to be used. Snape's to fuck and abuse and torment but never be allowed to fully enjoy his possession. Harry was filled with sobs he couldn't release, feeling a thousand times more trapped and helpless than he ever had in Snape's care.

His mind gave up struggling against the potion's influence and he slept. But sleeping brought no relief from his tormented mind – he was broken and no-one could put him back together again. Only Snape could make the attempt, but even he would fail. Oh, he might fuck Harry and that would make Harry feel normal again, especially in that moment when his mind blanked in orgasm, but when it was all over Snape would see Harry for what he truly was and would be disgusted.

And Harry would be alone in the dark.