Devil's Snare

Title: Devil's Snare

Rating: R

Word Count: 1010

015: Broken

Paring: Harry/Draco

Summary: Harry is told to bring Draco to the light side of the war at any cost. Post-HBP, D/s, dubious consent, Post-Hogwarts, war!fic.

Disclaimer: Unoriginal characters and situations belong to JKRowling. No copyright infringement is intended.

Table of Contents found at http://www.livejournal.com/users/mahoganyhandle/9713.html

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When Bethany, Malfoy's maid, Flooed into Harry's flat one Monday morning as the sun was rising, Harry had been scrubbing blood from his hands. It stained him from fingertip to elbow, as if he'd had his entire lower arm in somebody's chest. She did not look at all surprised to see him that way, but there was concern in her dark eyes, making them molten.

"My master has sent for you, Mr. Potter. He asked me to come and escort you through the wards."

"I've never needed an escort before," Harry said. He wiped what he could of the blood onto dishtowel. Something was not right about this situation. Dread coiled in the pit of his stomach.

"The wards have never been as strong as they are today, Sir," replied Bethany quietly. Harry asked her what this was all about. The concern in her eyes melted into an icy veneer. She gave nothing away. "I am not at liberty to say, Mr. Potter, but for my master's sake, I would ask you to be gentle with him today."

Harry followed Bethany through the Floo, struggling through the oppressive wards that pressed against him. He felt as if he had squirmed through a bottleneck. Even the wards at Hogwarts were not that strong.

They had Flooed directly to Malfoy's suite. The room was darkened and the bed curtains were drawn tight. But the door to the bathroom hung back just a bit, and Harry heard the sound of violent retching. He followed the sound to find Malfoy bent over the toilet, hair messily pulled back and knotted, clothes in disarray. Harry knelt beside him, rubbing circles into his back until the illness had passed.

He hadn't expected Malfoy to wrench out of Harry's grasp and scramble back as if Harry were fire and Malfoy ice. Harry stared at Malfoy with a furrowed brow. Tears welled in Malfoy's eyes; his watery gaze was focused on the remaining blood up and down Harry's arms and soaking his clothes.

"Did you do it?" Malfoy asked, voice sounding very small.

"Did I do what?"

"Kill him, Potter," snapped Malfoy. "Did you kill Blaise because of me?"

Harry hesitated before answering, glancing down at the blood coating him. He shouldn't have come like this, but Bethany had made it seem as if Malfoy needed him, needed comfort before he went mad.

"Do you think that I killed him because of you?"

Malfoy didn't respond. He pushed himself from the floor and went back into his bedroom. Harry followed him in and stood at his side when he pulled the curtains on the bed back and took out his wand. Zabini laid atop the sheets, ashen and bloody, skull caved in on one side. Malfoy touched him, letting his fingertips trail lightly over the contours of Zabini's face, down his neck, and shoulder, to the arm where the Dark Mark stood out sharply, disfigured with a blistering burn. A gaping wound was torn through his torso.

Malfoy took a ring from Zabini's left hand, then he raised his wand. "Finite Incantatem," he whispered. The Dark Mark shimmered, then disappeared, and only the burn remained. "Help me bury him in the garden."

"Malfoy, I can't help you conceal his death… at least, not from the Order."

"You don't get it, Potter! No one else can know that he's dead. Blaise was the only one protecting my daughter and me from the Dark Lord. The spell is broken now that he's dead."

"I'll protect you from Voldemort—"

"You! You should – you're the one who regularly comes around to fuck me and drain my power! Who cares if it renders me unable to defend my daughter! Her Daddy's a Death Eater, so she deserves whatever she gets…!"

"That's not true, and you know it! I can't even believe you'd say something like that!"

"Well, it's true, isn't it?" Malfoy snarled. "In the two bloody months since we've been in this ridiculous partnership, you haven't once asked if there was anything that I needed in return for all the bloody magic I've given over. You're a sloppy hero, Potter, and a despicable human being. At least the Death Eaters make convictions and apply them universally. You're just a self-righteous hypocrite with a superiority complex."

"Don't," Harry warned, as Malfoy tread blithely on his nerves, "talk to me like that. I understand that you're upset, and you have every right to be, but—"

"Thank you for your permission," interrupted Malfoy. "I don't think I could properly grieve for my lover without it. Now, if you don't mind, I've changed my mind about asking for any help or compassion or semblance of humanity out of you. Sod off." Malfoy turned away and headed back for the bathroom. Harry followed, propping the door open with his foot when Malfoy tried to slam it shut. "LEAVE ME ALONE! YOU THINK THAT EVERYTHING I HAVE TO GIVE IS FOR YOU, YOU INCONSIDERATE FUCK! MY LIFE DOES NOT REVOLVE AROUND YOURS!"

Harry grabbed Malfoy by the shoulders and shoved him back against the sink, keeping him off balance so that he floundered and clutched Harry's arms back in order to steady himself. His breaths were coming sharp and quick, and he trembled terribly. His eyes were glassy and bright.

"I'll help you, okay," Harry promised. "I'll conceal his… death from the Order as well as I can. I'll protect you. I'll take care of you. Just… what's this spell you were talking about?"

"What does it matter? It's broken."

"Malfoy!"

Malfoy coughed and bent his head. "It's a binding spell. It bound my blood to someone else's. It… helped her to stay hidden from the Dark Lord." Malfoy swore, his tears finally falling. He twisted his fingers in his hair and yanked, screaming. Harry pulled his closer, and Malfoy was so distraught that he clung to him, sobbing and intermittently muttering under his breath.

He kept repeating the same thing over and over. Oh, Merlin. He's going to kill her. He's going to kill her....