Broken Toy

Warnings: angst, violence, abuse, some romance, hurt/comfort, simply NC17…
Author's Notes:
First of all my huge thanks to the lovely ravenqueen55"!!! She took her precious time and beta’d the next chap for me and I’m sure there aren’t any strange phrases left! Amongst other things she put my nose on my most favourite mistake (although she didn’t know): “This” and “that”. Oh boy. I hope that some fine day I will be able to get the correct usage into my tiny worthless brain… *hugs you tight* ravenqueen55!!!

Now it’s time to present Draco’s fears to you. Remember? That’s what I left you with, evil me! Although this time I honestly didn’t intend to leave you with a cliffie, I just couldn’t go on. Because I knew it would be somewhat difficult to write. And it was. I deleted pages (!) of the first draft and had to start anew… I hope it turned out all right.

Enjoy!

And again... Hugs you all for the wonderful reviews. When I started this fic I never in my wildest dreams believed anybody would like to read it at all... Thank you. You make me go on, you know???

Chapter Eighteen

“I never want to be back there.”

So. He had spilled it out, and it hadn’t hurt at all. The words had simply tumbled out of his mouth as if they had some will of their own.

Draco let go of Harry’s member. If he wanted to continue, and he did want to continue, he couldn’t possibly touch him as intimately as this. Besides, he was nervous. He knew he wouldn’t be able to control the mechanical reflexes of his hand should his nervousness increase.

Trying to concentrate, he rolled over to lie on his back. It was easier to go on if he wasn’t forced to look into Harry’s face. But it was peculiar. Now that Draco was determined to put his worst nightmare into words, he didn’t know where to start. Or how to start.

The image of what he wanted to say was right in front of his mind’s eye. Draco was about to open his mouth, then abruptly thought better of it. Words and fractions of phrases were whirling through his mind. Nothing seemed to make any sense. If he didn’t understand, how could he make him comprehend? He just couldn’t start with unintelligible babbling. He definitely needed more time. He had to sort it out. Just a little bit more time, and then maybe...

Harry shifted, and the mattress dipped a little then went up again.

The room seemed to be stickier than before. Why hadn’t they closed the windows this morning? The heat of the day had been flooding in unhindered. The sultriness was oppressing. Even the sheets they were resting upon seemed to have absorbed the summer heat. When a tiny drop of sweat trickled down his forehead towards his ear, Draco noticed that his whole body was bathed in a pool of cold sweat.

Harry shifted again.

Draco could hear a muffled cough. It didn’t sound as if Harry was clearing his throat to speak. It sounded as if Harry… It was too late. He had missed his chance. Harry was getting impatient. Or he was just bored. Why the hell had Draco started this? He should have kept his bloody mouth shut. Harry wasn’t interested after all, and Draco should have...

“Do you mean the Restricted Corner?” Harry’s voice was gentle. “Or the situation itself?”

“Yes. No.” Draco reacted at once. “I mean…” He couldn’t lie still any more. With a jerk he sat up in bed. It was difficult to make out Harry’s face in the dim light of the setting sun, but, to be honest, Harry’s gaze was the last thing Draco wanted to see right now.

“My hide-out. The place where I go when I can’t stand it any longer.” That should explain everything.

Draco grabbed for his pillow. It fitted in comfortably between his crossed legs, and it felt soft and welcoming when he hugged it tight. He was glad that he could rest his forehead upon one of the corners, pushing the material gradually down until his whole face was buried into the squashy cushion.

“It’s as if some part of my life is missing.” Draco spoke right into the pillow. He wasn’t sure if Harry could make out his words, but he continued nonetheless. “Every day was the same.” He stared at the white linen directly in front of his eyes, looking for some special crease, some exceptional fold, to which he could attempt to explain things he didn’t quite understand himself. It was easier than looking at Harry.

“Sleep, wait, fuck; sleep, wait, fuck. Every day of the week. Every week of the month. Every month of the year.” Draco risked a cautious glance above his protective pillow. All he could distinguish before he quickly bent down his head again was the silhouette of Harry, hunching opposite of him. When had he sat up, too? But of course this didn’t really mattered now.

“Sure, part of it was due to BJ. The dullness, you know? It is a powerful potion to make you calm down, be agreeable and horny all of the time.” Draco’s hands clenched. “But it couldn’t take the pain away, see?”

His eyes started to burn, so he closed them quickly. No weakness was allowed. Not then, not now. Never. He forced himself to go on.

“Oh, we got healed afterwards, sure. Every time. We could rely on it. The perfect property has to remain perfect. You can’t make as much money off an ugly whore. We had to be intact and alluring; bruises were not approved of. But, in between, there was nothing to help us. It was just pain. Pain… Sometimes I thought a Cruciatus couldn’t be worse. And many customers liked it if you cried out loud. Or if you sobbed and pleaded. Or both. But I didn’t. I…”

Images Draco had thought were forgotten started to flash through his mind.

“I can take in a lot, you know? I AM NO SISSY. And I am not weak… No… I’m not…”

The grip of his fists tightened. His fingernails dug deep into his palms, and his underarms started to tremble slightly with the strain. It hurt like hell, but he couldn’t let loose.

“It was… When the first did it… not just fuck, you know, but slam, it was as if it never would stop again, it hurt, it hurt so much, I never had been hurt like that before, I didn’t know what to do, but I knew I couldn’t run, and the next… the next did it again, and the next… and it never stopped, the lashing never seemed to stop and every time I felt my skin crack open I wanted to run… The constraints, I will never forget the chains and ropes, and when they used to hang me upside down… letting me float around helplessly high above the floor, and the pee… it hurt when they peed on the wounds, and the laughter, the laughter and then the gasping and panting and sperm all over my face and I hated the smell I hated it so much it made me gag but I couldn’t for if I had, I would have suffocated with the stinking pricks down my throat so I had to, I HAD TO find a way out…”

Draco stopped. The sudden pressure upon his hands was caused by Harry holding them tight. The warm touch was almost too much for Draco. He would wail. Any minute now all the tears he had never allowed himself to cry would simply burst out and just once, just once he would howl and bawl and moan and allow the pain to come out and with the tears and snot and spittle pouring out everything would be washed away and be gone.

But no. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

He swallowed hard to get rid of the lump in his throat. It wouldn’t go down. He tried again, this time harder, but the lump stayed as if it was trying to make fun of his miserable efforts. He clenched his hands, getting frantic, and finding the warm flesh of Harry’s hands he vented his almost hysterical tension on them, squeezed with all his might and gulped and swallowed repeatedly. The lump was gone. Just one deep breath and he continued.

“I… I don’t know when it really started but after some weeks… yeah, now I know, it was the bloke with the handcuffs and the metal stick… I knew I would never get over that and I just went. I kind of left my body.” His hands clenched again, this time involuntarily. His grip was instantly returned.

“Afterwards I found out if I concentrated just hard enough I could leave my body whenever I wanted to.”

At last Draco was able to look up. Harry’s face as well as the whole bedroom was bathed in a soft reddish glow. The sight was so unreal that it took Draco some time to figure out that the whole interior of the room was illuminated by an awesomely beautiful sunset. The world outside was taking its usual course, birds were chirruping their farewell to the past day, and crickets took over to sing their duly song of the night.

Disorientation hit Draco like a physical blow. He wasn’t able to combine the all too vivid image of the shabby and stinking room he had called his home the last years with the peaceful song of blackbirds. Blackbirds?

“Where did you go?”

Prompted by the soft voice Draco reacted at once, forgetting about blackbirds right away. Still staring at the warm red light glowing in through the windows, but not really seeing it, Draco responded automatically.

“My head. I always hid inside my head…”

Now how weird did that sound? Harry must think Draco was definitely mental.

“That reminds me of Occlumency. You force your mind to go blank. You don’t think, and you don’t feel anything. Is that what it’s like?”

“Yes. YES! Similar!” Harry understood! He really understood!

For a brief moment Draco met Harry’s eyes, and what he saw there made his stomach jump up to his throat.

But this was not important now. He would think about the look in Harry’s eyes later. Fixing his gaze upon his hands locked with Harry’s, observing but not really registering the white of their knuckles standing out against soft red light, Draco poured out whatever came to his head.

“I can do it like an expert. I just have to concentrate, and then I’m off. I don’t know where, but no one can find me there. No one can touch me there. And I don’t feel any pain… Nothing! It’s perfect!”

Draco’s mouth twitched. Perfect? What was perfect?

“It’s just… I… I…” Draco’s hands went limp.

“I got used to it.” Harry’s tight but gentle grip didn’t allow Draco to let his hands slip away.

“It was so easy… At first I only hid when I saw some guy advancing with… you know. But later on, I did it whenever anybody turned up. It just happened automatically. And I felt better. I didn’t have to think about whatever they were doing… But…” Draco wanted to scratch his head, urgently, something was tickling his hair most uncomfortably, but his hands were still enfolded by Harry’s, and Draco didn’t want to lose the feeling of protectiveness they provided.

“When you found me, I did it constantly,” Draco chuckled humourlessly. “There wasn’t any reason to be conscious of myself, see?”

Draco had to look up now. He dreaded the look in the emerald eyes, but at the same time, he needed the assurance he was sure he’d find there.

But Harry’s eyes were hidden by shadows. The warm red glow had vanished, and the world had turned into grey and black. The sun had sunken down at last.

He’d really done it. He had made a complete fool of himself. He was mental. He was scum. He was…

Harry’s thumb started to move up and down the back of Draco’s hand. Draco slowly closed his eyes.

“These last days… blue sky… white clouds… fresh, pure air… breathing, really breathing again… out walking with the dogs… the broom ride… sex… life… I remembered. Harry, I remembered what it’s like to live!”

Draco’s eyes started to burn again, but he ignored it.

“I can’t go back. Never. I’ll never be able to stand being like an Inferi again. I’m going to sna-hap. Just like you-hou said, like this.” An unexpected tear rolled down his face. “I ne-hever can go-ho ba-hack there …”

Just when he needed them the most, Harry’s hands let go of Draco’s. Instinctively Draco grabbed for his best friend, the pillow, but it was wrenched out of his grip.

Fuck Potter. Fuck the perfect person he had besmirched with his foul and impure existence. Fuck Potter and his righteous…

Harry took him into his arms, and held him close. As soon as Draco’s head touched Harry’s shoulder, he started to choke. He couldn’t cry, he had never learned how to cry, he had never been allowed to cry. Father hadn’t raised a sissy. So he wouldn’t, he couldn’t start now, he couldn’t…

Harry’s arms were all around him, and his hands were stroking his back, his head, his arms. His lips were caressing his hair, and he was murmuring something, but Draco couldn’t make out the words. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was the trustworthy low voice beside his ear, soothing him, calming his spasms, caressing his soul with meaningless phrases.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Eventually, Draco’s convulsions ceased, and he was able to breathe somewhat evenly again. His fringe was shoved softly back on his head, and a hand was coaxing his head upwards. Although it was nearly dark, Draco caught a glimpse of Harry’s bright eyes boring into his.

“Draco, that won’t ever happen again. I swear. I will see to it. I’ll do everything in my power to ensure that it never happens again. Do you believe me? Darling? Did you hear me? Draco?”

Darling… Draco nodded faintly, daring a hesitant smile, whilst his Slytherin self roared with laughter.