Broken Toy

Warnings: angst, violence, abuse, some romance, hurt/comfort, simply NC17…
Author's Notes:

First of all: THANK YOU FOR YOUR WONDERFUL REVIEWS!
It took my breath away – never before I got so many comments after posting a chapter! Hehe, do I detect some romantic twinge in your heart? *g*

I’m very happy that you liked the last chapter. I’m always worrying if maybe I exaggerate… I tend to do that, you know? *g* Especially when it comes to romantic scenes…
And I’m more than proud that you still like the way the two are with each other…

Enjoy the next chapter!

Oh, I forgot to mention… it gets a little bit darker later on… but just a tiny bit. The real dark part comes later, *smirks*
Yes. I’ve heard it before. I’m evil.
And: The end of the chap is not intended as a cliffie!!! *sigh* But if you feel it’s one again, I can’t help it. Hehe.

Oh, and something else: I’ve been asked about a mailing-list. I’ll start one right now!

Chapter Twenty

When Draco woke up, he felt extraordinarily pleased with himself. He snuggled deep into the soft smooth coverings, not wanting to open his eyes. He wished the feeling of happy contentment would last, but somehow he knew he would sober up as soon as his eyes met the bright light of day and he had to face the reality of a new morning.

Instinctively Draco reached out, groping for Harry’s warm body, but all he could lay his hand on were the foldings of cold silk bedding. Unconsciously, his mouth shaped into a pout, and, with low protesting noises, he compelled his eyes to open. Harry’s side of the bed was empty.

Disappointed, Draco’s outstretched hand clenched into a fist and slammed down at the empty space. Where was Harry when he wanted him? Draco furrowed his eyebrows. Grumbling under his breath, he grabbed for Harry’s pillow and stuffed it beneath his chin, enfolding it closely with both of his arms. Still sulking, Draco buried his nose deep into the cushion. Harry’s scent was all around him, and, with a satisfied smile, Draco drifted off into sleep once more.

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

Midday was long past when he awoke again. Draco was still clutching Harry’s pillow in his arms, and the fragrance emanating off it made him grin immediately.

I’m proud that I was your first.

Draco’s smile intensified, and his fingers started to caress the soft material of Harry’s pillow.

My first…

Absentmindedly, Draco’s arm stretched out and his hand stroked the empty space where Harry’s body had been resting.

He let out a small, unconscious sigh when he tried to recall every single detail of the previous night. His fingers moved playfully up and down the mattress, and he rubbed his face gently along the curve of the pillow, inhaling deeply. He could have very well drifted off into slumber again, if his fingers hadn’t come in touch with something most peculiar.

It was a sock.

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

His rumbling stomach convinced Draco it was time to get up after all. With regret he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His hearty yawn got stuck in his throat when he noticed three things at the same time.

It was a quarter past two; he had overslept terribly.

The room was tidy, nothing except the red bedcovering and the single sock reminded of the events of last night.

On his bedside table was a covered tray, with a note pinned to it.

“Good morning! You were sleeping so soundly that I didn’t want to wake you up for breakfast. I’ve kept it warm by a spell. I’m not exactly familiar with it, and I’m not sure if I overdid it, so take care. H.”

Harry Perfect Potter, considerate as always. Draco raised the lid. Two boiled eggs, four slices of toast, four slices of fried bacon, a pot of tea and a mug, a glass of orange juice, some butter and honey in tiny bowls, a plate, a knife, two spoons, some salt. Harry had thought of everything, and the result was an opulent, perfect breakfast.

There was no reason to be disappointed, no reason for worry, yet that was exactly what he was feeling. He knew he was being an idiot. But still, a disturbing awareness of incomprehensible frustration kept on nagging him, and suddenly he wasn’t hungry at all any more.

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

After Draco had finished his morning routine of washing he stood irresolutely in front of the bathroom mirror. What would he do today? There were only a few hours left until Harry was back home. So with what activities he was to fill this time?

He moved closer towards the mirror. Was there some serious stubble on his face at last worth shaving off? He scrutinized his face, exploring his chin with his fingers. Oh, it felt scratchy! His face almost touched the glass now. Yes!

He grinned broadly and winked at his image with satisfaction. It had taken some time, but today, at last, his body hair was back, at least on his face. About to search for a razor, he let his gaze run over his reflection proudly one last time, and his stomach turned over. He gasped for air.

What was that ugly spot on his throat, right between his Adam’s apple and his collarbone? Please, no. Please don’t let it be another reaction to the lack of BJ. Please, don’t let it start all over again. Please.

His heart had started to beat most uncomfortably against his chest. He moved as close to the mirror as possible and examined the dark red spot with trembling fingers.

With a relieved sigh, Draco let out the breath he had been holding.

No, thank Merlin, it wasn’t a huge pimple, ready to burst. But what the heck was it? Draco strained his eyes. It looked like some kind of bruise; a contusion, a discoloration of his skin…

It was a love bite.

Warmth flooded through his body, starting in his stomach, making him smile automatically.

When he stared at the reflection of his shining eyes in the mirror, he couldn’t identify his features as the face of Draco Malfoy.

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

It was unbelievable, but Draco had dozed off again.

He had gotten dressed – among his own clothes in the T-shirt Harry had been wearing yesterday morning before changing into formal robes. Finally hungry, he took the tray Harry had left him downstairs and out into the garden, where he ate his breakfast under the close watch of two panting dogs. He ate just about everything, but he hadn’t been able to resist the ingratiating look of those big, brown doggie-eyes and had shared the bacon with them. Just a couple of slices each and he had blown on them first to cool them off a bit. As expected, the food was the perfect temperature, just as if it was cooked only seconds ago.

Having secured the ever-lasting friendship of the dogs, Draco stretched out on his back and enjoyed his full stomach and the sight of a few white clouds against the beautiful blue sky above him. The slight scent of Harry was in his nose, mingling with the fresh air and the transpiration of the heated grass he was lying in.

He was surprised when one of the cats (he still didn’t know which was which) jumped up on his lap and curled up. Maybe it was its purring which made his eye-lids suddenly seem to be so heavy. Or, perhaps, it were the peaceful surroundings which made him relax. Whatever the reason, he once again fell asleep.

He woke up with a start when the cat had had enough of her afternoon-rest and jumped down from his lap, kicking Draco’s member most roughly with her hind-legs.

Merlin, what time was it?

Draco got up too fast. He swayed a little when he snatched the tray and hurried towards the kitchen-door. Too much sleep; and definitely too much sun today. His skin was burning. How could he have forgotten? He wasn’t used to sunbathing, and he had spent he didn’t know how long in the blazing sun.

But he had worried in vain - it was just half past four. Still about an hour and a half before Harry would be home.

He started to clear away the remains of his breakfast. By now he knew where the salt shaker went and where to put the empty teapot. He discarded the empty egg-shells into the garbage can when something inside of it caught his eye.

There were several crumbled up sheets, pushed deeply in the litter. The sheets strongly resembled the note Harry had left behind earlier.

Draco disregarded modesty when he was curious. At once his hand lunged into the waste and fished out one of the creased up sheets.

His heart started to beat in anticipation when he smoothed the paper up.

“Good morning, my darling”

Draco’s heated up body went cold at once. If he had cared to notice, he could have watched goosebumps exploding all over his skin. But all his mind could handle was the innocent piece of paper he was holding and the neatly written words upon it. This was definitely Harry’s handwriting, and this was undoubtedly some kind of draft of the note Harry had left him this morning. He read the four words again and again, and each time his eyes stopped and stared at the last word.

But there were more, there were more sheets down there in the waste! His hands were shaking when he unwrinkled the next sheet.

“Good morning, my darling! Did you know you look like an angel when you sleep? “

Draco’s stomach turned over for no reason at all and he found himself kneeling in front of the garbage can, fishing for another scrunched up paper.

“Good morning, my darling! I wanted to wake you up with a kiss but you were sleeping so soundly”

Draco’s hands dived into the greasy litter to get the next paper ball out.

“Good morning. ARRGH.”

The “Arrgh” was written in huge letters, right across the page.

Frantically Draco plunged into the unsavoury contains of the garbage can once more, unaware of something oily running down the back of his hand. There was another snippet, he had seen it, and it was poking right out beneath slimy old lettuce leaves. With a victorious cry he pulled the piece out.

“Good morning, my darling!

Did you sleep as well as I did? And woke up with a smile? I have to admit that I’m still running around with a smile on my face. I hate to leave you for the day, and I can’t wait to be back this evening.

I prepared some breakfast but I simply can’t wake you up. You are sleeping so soundly. Did you know you look like an angel when you sleep? I want to

Draco whimpered and thrust his hands right into the slimy mass of litter; rummaging, groping, fumbling, searching; not caring for the stench or the repelling sensations meeting his sensitive fingers, but he couldn’t find another scrap of paper. Whimpering once more, this time louder, he turned the can up and emptied its contains right in front of his crossed legs.

But there weren’t any more pieces of paper.

With a cry of dismay he flung the empty can aside. Heat was flooding back through his body, but he didn’t notice.

For a long time Draco sat motionless in the kitchen, surrounded by a heap of stinking garbage, staring at the smoothed up sheets in his lap.

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

“Draco?”

He was back, at last.

Harry found Draco in the living-room, sitting as inconspicuously as can be on the sofa, the Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3, by Miranda Goshwak, in his lap.

Draco had just made it in time. He had embarrassed himself by his behaviour in the kitchen earlier, and needed to wipe away all evidence of it. He had cleared up the mess, showered, and searched for new clothes. And he had needed some time to adjust his face.

“Ah, here you are!” Harry slumped down right beside him, letting his bag slide down between his feet.

“I brought some strawberries…” Harry bent down to open his bag. “And some cream… Green salad… And tomatoes, and loads of cheese. We can stuff the tomatoes with herbs and cheese and put them in the oven… I hope you’ll like it? You never told me what you like…If not, I can get something else.” His hands stopped rummaging and he bent up again, facing Draco.

“What you’ve been up to, hm? What have you been doing all day?” Draco was still looking intently at his book. He was glad he wasn’t holding it the wrong way around. He had just grabbed for the first book he could lay his hands upon when he heard the crack of someone Apparating outside.

“Draco?”

Draco forced himself to turn around and look at Harry’s face.

“Hello!” Harry smiled shyly at him.

He looked terrible.

The skin of his face could only be described as ashen; it completely lacked the healthy colour Draco was used to. Dark shadows under Harry’s eyes gave them a sunken look, intensified by his glasses, and the lines around his mouth hadn’t been there yesterday. Harry had aged about twenty years since the last time Draco had seen him.

But the worst was the expression of his eyes.

Draco flung the book he had never read down to the floor.

“What have you been up to???”

Dead, emerald eyes stared back at him.

“What? Tell me!!!” Draco’s voice snapped. “HARRY!”

Draco felt sick when he watched Harry’s eyes blink several times. Then Harry’s gaze left Draco’s face, turning its focus towards Draco’s outstretched arms, resting there for a moment. Then, after shaking his head as if to get rid of something, Harry simply bent his head down and watched his folded hands in his lap.

“DON’T!” Draco had followed Harry’s gaze. He felt like retching when he saw Harry’s fingernails drawing bloody trails on the back of his hands.

“What? What has happened?” Draco grabbed Harry’s wrists in a tight grip and pulled his hands apart to stop him from hurting himself.

“HARRY!”

Harry heaved his shoulders, tried to look up, failed, straightened his shoulders again then looked up into Draco’s face. His voice was so low it was almost inaudible.

“Could you please…”

Draco pulled him into his arms and embraced him as tight as he could; right before Harry was able to finish, “…hold me for a while...”

It took some time for Draco to realize that Harry was trembling. And it took him some more time to realize that he was crying.

“We interrogated those fucking pimps the whole morning…” Harry’s hands clenched into Draco’s back. “Like we did all last week…” His body started to shake in Draco’s arms.

“And then… midday… I went to the market… I wanted… I needed… I wanted to see your happy face…. So I went to buy some strawberries… I … BOUGHT STRAHA-BE-HER-REEES…”

Draco turned Harry’s chin up resolutely by his thumb and got rid off Harry’s glasses. Then Draco pulled Harry’s head gently against his shoulder, holding the back of his head in what he hoped to be a gentle grip.

Harry’s arms tightened around his chest, and Draco instinctively started to stroke Harry’s hair.

“I was so mad… I WAS SO MA-HAD… I want you to be fre-hee… I wa-hanted to stop it all. So when they suggested to Legilimens Perkins I was more than whi-hilling…”

Harry’s body convulsed and Draco tried to calm him helplessly. He held him closer than before, concerned that he would hurt him with his clumsy attempts to soothe.

“But it wasn’t like before!” Harry broke the embrace violently and stared at Draco, his face placid. Draco was almost convinced by the calm expression of his face.

“It wasn’t. I never asked for Pickles before. I mean, I never tried to get a thought, an impression of him before. I never legilimented for his da-ham na-hame…”

Draco wasn’t sure Harry was actually seeing him when he went on.

“Perkins just fell over backwards and was dead.“

Draco couldn’t react. He knew he should, he had to, but he simply couldn’t. Because for one agonizing moment, he couldn’t see anything behind the emerald eyes, nothing at all, they were just… green.

Something was blocking Draco’s airways, and the urge to retch was almost overwhelming.

No. Please. Harry. PLEASE.

Draco almost laughed hysterically when Harry started to shout.

“I KILLED HIM.”

Harry’s features were contorted with pain, and Draco was glad, glad, glad…

“Perkins… He died, just died because I legilimented and probed for his fucking name… Pickles fucking name… just mentioned it in my mind and Perkins fell backwards and was dead. Dead. DEAD! DEAD! And I killed him. I KILLED HIM. I KILLED HIM!”

Draco forced Harry back into his arms, trying to silence the agonized cries, rocking back and forth.

The cries were still ringing in his ears, even after Harry fell quiet after what seemed to be an awful, endless time.