Undesirable - COMPLETE
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
31
Views:
43,519
Reviews:
301
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
31
Views:
43,519
Reviews:
301
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Unclean
Chapter Number/Total: 22/31
Chapter Title: Unclean
Words: 2886 Words
Draco had been in such a rush to take Harry flying he hadn't gone through the mail. The next day, though, he found himself reading the Daily Prophet and worrying about what to tell Harry. He took a deep breath and stepped into the sitting room. "Harry," he said softly, "I need to talk to you about something."
"Hm?" Harry asked, looking a little distracted. He had been attempting to polish his broom, even though it hardly needed any polish just yet.
Draco had the paper in hand and sat down nearby. "I need to talk to you about something."
"Yeah? Go on," Harry said, finally looking up at him and setting his broom aside.
"Do you remember the article about McLaggen?" he asked.
Harry nodded slowly, already not liking where this was going. "What about it?”
"There ... there isn't enough evidence to convict him," Draco said. "None of his other victims lived to testify."
Harry looked down and reached for the broom, trying to distract himself again. "So?”
Draco frowned. "I know one who did live."
Harry shook his head, beginning to tremble. "No, Draco, no ....”
"Then he will walk away. They will let him go." Draco knew that part of the reason McLaggen had been able to convince people he had been under Imperius was that he had been a Gryffindor, and, of course, that meant he wouldn't have willingly done the things he did.
Harry didn't want McLaggen to go free either. It frightened him to think of the man out there, doing those things to others, maybe even coming after Harry again. He clenched his bottom lip between his teeth and pushed the broom away, pulling his knees up to his chest and beginning to rock. "I ... I c-can't ....”
Draco knelt beside Harry, laying a hand over the other man's."It might actually help you get better, if you testified against him," he explained.
"You just want me to talk about it," Harry said, biting his lip harder and shaking.
"If I had my way, you would never have to talk about it, never have to even think about it again," Draco said fiercely. "But that's not how it works. Even if we erase it from your memories, you would still have the dreams, the fear."
"Talking about it just makes me remember. Makes me feel it," Harry whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. Just thinking about talking about it now made Harry shudder.
Draco squeezed Harry's hand, and tried to let it show in his face how much Harry meant to him. "I know," he said.
Harry didn't want to, he honestly didn't want to, but he could see no way out of it. "Would I have to say it ... say what happened ... in court?" he asked quietly.
"I don't know. We have to contact the Ministry first and let them know you have evidence against him," Draco explained.
Harry rubbed at his eyes and took a few deep breaths. "I really don't want to.”
"I won't force you to and I won't let anyone else," Draco said, still holding Harry's hand firmly in his own. "But I will stand by you if you do."
"The entire time?" Harry asked hopefully, looking at him and squeezing his hand.
"I will be beside you as long as you want and anywhere I can," the blond answered solemnly.
"Then ... then I'll do it," Harry said, resigned.
"Harry, I want you to be free of it, to be able to live your life," Draco insisted.
"I don't think I'll ever be, but ... I'll try, okay?"
"You are braver than you realise," Draco said, leaning forward to kiss him.
"I guess," Harry whispered, shoulders slumped with his dampened mood.
Draco stood looking down at Harry, unsure of what to do to help the man's misery. It was another of those moments when his urge to make Harry feel better seemed at odds with his training as a Healer. He sighed. "Maybe you'd feel better with a nice bath?" he suggested.
Harry shrugged and then took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He uncurled himself and stood up haltingly. "Okay," he answered, turning to walk up the stairs to go to the bathroom.
Draco followed him, worried. Harry had been making such good progress but something like this could cause a set-back, temporarily at least, even if in the long run confronting one of his attackers might help Harry.
Harry stepped inside of the room and started to undress, sitting down on the toilet seat lid so that Draco could set up the bath.
Draco started the taps running and picked up some lavender oil, adding it to the warm water.
Harry was waiting when he smelled the oil, frowning and looking down. There was something oddly familiar about it, but ... he couldn't remember exactly what.
Draco set the bottle aside and then leaned against the wall, waiting for Harry. "You ready to get in?"
Harry shook his head, reaching up to grip his hair as he tried to remember. But he couldn't. It was the smell, it had to be the smell ....
Concerned, Draco stepped closer, reaching to lay his hand atop Harry's, trying to soothe him. "Harry, can you hear me?"
Harry whimpered softly and shook his head again, gripping at his hair. "I can't remember," he mumbled, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.
"Harry, it is going to be okay. You are safe," Draco assured him, wrapping his other arm around Harry's shoulders.
Harry looked up at him then, his eyes opening quickly. "I'm trying to remember ... the water, it smells like ... something familiar," he tried to explain.
The blond cupped Harry's cheek with one hand. "Something good or bad?" he prompted.
Harry closed his eyes to think again, realising that it was only not remembering that was frustrating him. "Good ... I think ...."
"Let's get you into the water. Just relax and if it sparks more of a memory, that's fine. If not, that's okay, too," Draco assured him.
***
Harry tossed and turned, crying out that he didn't want to do it and that he was so sorry. But everything just went on as if he didn't say a word, the screaming, the thrusts, the pain.
Draco cried out as the blow woke him, and it took him few moments to figure out that he had been having a nightmare but that the blow had been real. Harry was having his own nightmare. Draco blinked and struggled to get a firm grasp on his lover who was thrashing. "Harry, it's me, you're safe," he insisted.
Harry sobbed as he was slowly pulled out of his dream, the fear making his heart beat rapidly. "I didn't want to," he whispered through it all, clinging to Draco.
"I know you didn't," Draco soothed, petting Harry’s hair as he held him. "He made you do it?"
"He made me ... he made me hurt her," Harry whimpered, pressing his face against Draco as he cried.
"A woman?" Draco asked, whispering.
Harry shuddered, but nodded, the memory alone making him feel sick.
"Who was she?" Draco asked.
"I don't know," Harry moaned, his voice anguished and broken.
"Was this McLaggen?" Draco asked. "He had you hurt a woman you didn't know?"
Harry nodded slowly, biting his lip and covering his mouth with both hands so that he wouldn't get sick. "Then he ... he killed her ....”
Draco nodded, shivering with his own memories as well. "It's how they do it, you know. How they make you one of them."
The thought made Harry sob again, struggling to get out of Draco's arms suddenly. "I'm just as guilty as them ...” he said, getting off the bed and turning to stumble out of the room, heading for the bathroom.
Draco scrambled after him, not stopping him but not letting him go anywhere without him. "No, you aren't," he insisted.
"I am!” Harry ran into the bathroom and fell to his knees in front of the toilet, throwing up forcefully.
Draco stood beside him, reaching to hold Harry's hair back for him. He had had enough of those moments himself to understand. "Then I am, too," he said.
Harry shook his head, not believing that at all. "You aren't," he whispered. "I tried to stop him but he made me do things!”
"That's more than I ever did," Draco said, running the water in the sink. He handed Harry a glass and then used a flannel to clean his face.
Harry rinsed out his mouth out and sighed, turning his face up to let Draco wash him. "And I then I lay there ... and let it happen ....”
Draco led Harry back to the room, pulling him down to sit. "And was there anything you could have done that would have saved her?"
"Fought harder," Harry whispered. "At least taken the attention off of her.”
"Was she a Muggle?" Draco asked.
"I guess so," Harry mumbled, feeling tired again.
"Then she was dead no matter what you did. They used them for sport," Draco said, bitterness in his voice. "My aunt tried to teach me ....” He stopped, looking down.
Harry winced and took Draco's hand, turning to move back onto the bed. "I don't want to talk about it anymore.”
"Listen to me," Draco whispered. "I ... I did things, too. And I had less reason than you did."
Harry let go of Draco's hand and curled up on the bed. "You did?"
"Summer after fifth year," Draco said. "My Aunt Bellatrix had escaped from Azkaban. She was ... trying to make me into one of them."
"I'm sorry you had to go through that," Harry said softly, lifting a trembling hand to reach out for him.
Draco gathered him into his arms. "She tortured and killed Muggles, made me watch and tried to get me to ... made me participate. I know how that works."
"It hurt more than anything to have to listen to her screams," Harry whispered, curling up in Draco's arms.
Draco nodded. "I still hear them sometimes," he said, voice catching. "But, Harry, they would have hurt and killed her even if you hadn't been there."
"It's just how I am," Harry sighed, closing his eyes. "Can't help it."
"Feeling compassion for her is good, but not guilt that will destroy your life and let her killer go free," Draco explained.
"I said I'd testify," Harry said quietly.
"It is brave and important," Draco said, then cupped Harry's chin, kissing his lips and then resting his forehead against Harry's. "Now is there anything I can do to make you feel better?"
"Just hold me," Harry said, still feeling a little shaken up.
Draco lay back on the bed, pulling the covers up over them. Then he pulled Harry close, petting him and making soothing noises.
Harry fell asleep a short while later, curling up next to Draco with a sigh.
***
Harry was chained in his usual corner, begging for attention or food, when they brought Lucius in. His body was blackened and bloody. Harry had never seen Voldemort so angry before. The creature screamed, promising great rewards to any of his followers who managed to capture Malfoy's killer.
That night Harry was brought to Voldemort's bedchamber. Harry knelt down in front of Voldemort's bed like he always did, his arms wrapped around himself as he trembled. He could tell how angry Voldemort was about the death of Lucius, and now he was scared that it was going to all be taken out on him.
Voldemort waved his hand and the chains fell from Harry. Then the red-eyed monster of a man advanced on him, face looking as grim as it ever had. Harry leaned away from him and whimpered softly, even though his body was craving contact like it always was.
Voldemort hissed and reached for Harry, grabbing him by the hair and literally dragging him across the floor, throwing him face down over the edge of the bed. Harry cried out and pressed his face against the bed, his fingers digging into the sheets as he braced himself for the pain that would come. It didn't take long. Voldemort stripped himself magically and shoved himself into Harry, rutting nearly frantically into him, one clawed hand pressed into the small of Harry's back and the other raking red furrows in his skin.
Harry cried out again and again, gripping the sheets so tightly that his knuckles were white. He could only squeeze his eyes shut and wait until he was done.
Voldemort hissed as he came and then shoved off Harry, leaving him lying there in pain again.
Harry panted softly, curling up the best he could. "Can ... can I come, please?" he whispered, his erection still throbbing painfully.
Voldemort ignored him, firing a hex at a chair which burst into pieces, and then stood there shaking.
"Please," Harry begged from where he lay, shaking as well.
Voldemort looked over his shoulder at Harry, looking confused, as if he had forgotten he was there. He flicked his hand and the control was released on Harry's cock – and Harry screamed, not expecting the spell to be lifted so quickly. It hurt when he came and he jerked until it was over, leaving him panting.
Voldemort stood over him then, looking at him curiously. "When was the last time you were bathed?" he asked.
"I don't know," Harry whispered, looking confused by the question. Since when did anyone care about that?
"Follow me," Voldemort said and turned, walking to the adjoining bathroom.
Harry wanted to ask for food as he got off the bed and crawled after Voldemort, but decided not to, wondering if he was going to get a bath now. He didn't want to hurt his chances of that by wanting food.
Voldemort waved a hand and the large bath filled with warm, softly-scented water. "Clean yourself and then come back to the room."
Harry stared at the bath for a long moment, glancing up at Voldemort and then back at the bath, as if waiting for the obvious trick. When there wasn't one that he could notice immediately, he took a chance and crawled over to the bath, biting his lip and dipping his hand in it. Nothing happened. In fact the water was warm, and it smelled so nice. But there had to be a catch. He glanced back at Voldemort again.
Voldemort turned and left the room.
Harry turned his gaze back to the bath and hesitated only a moment longer before he pulled himself up and then climbed into it, hissing softly as he settled down into the warm water. Nothing bad happened, so he decided he might as well enjoy it while it lasted. He sunk down until his entire body was covered, the various cuts and welts burning a little as the water got into them. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this comfortable. And, to his surprise, the warm water seemed to soothe the need for touch, at least some.
Harry washed his face off, wishing he had a mirror just to see how he looked. He felt horrible, and probably looked the same, especially without his glasses. They had been broken beyond repair during one of his days in the room. Things were blurry, but he adjusted. He dipped his head under the water to wash his hair out, and then he just lay there, not knowing how much time was passing by. He stayed in the water until he felt it start to go cold. Harry slowly pulled himself out of the bath and shivered in the cool air, noticing that Voldemort didn't give him a towel or anything. He sighed and turned, crawling out of the bathroom and back into the room.
Voldemort was sitting in his chair by the fireplace. "You can eat," he said off-handedly, red eyes staring into the flames.
"Eat what?" Harry asked, still confused at the way Voldemort was behaving.
Voldemort looked over at the table, frowning. He snapped his fingers and food appeared on it.
"Anything?" Harry asked, swallowing hard once the food appeared.
"Whatever you like," Voldemort said, turning back to the fire.
Harry watched him for a moment before he crawled over to the table and began to pull food down from it, collecting a few pieces of chicken in his lap before he began to eat quickly.
Lucius' chair was in pieces and Voldemort leaned forward, picking up bits and throwing each one into the fire.
It was then that Harry realised what might be the real reason why Voldemort was like this. He was grieving. "I'm sorry," he said softly, swallowing the food in his mouth.
Voldemort ignored him, continuing to throw things into the fire and watch them burn.
Harry wasn't used to having so much food and he could only eat two pieces of the chicken before he felt full. He pushed the rest of it away and crawled around Voldemort's chair so that he was near the fire to dry off.
Voldemort finished burning the chair, sweeping the rest into the fire with magic and then sat back in his own.
Harry was quiet as well, pulling his knees up to his chest. "Did you love him?" he asked softly after a moment.
Voldemort scowled but didn't deny it.
"I am sorry," Harry whispered again.
Chapter Title: Unclean
Words: 2886 Words
Draco had been in such a rush to take Harry flying he hadn't gone through the mail. The next day, though, he found himself reading the Daily Prophet and worrying about what to tell Harry. He took a deep breath and stepped into the sitting room. "Harry," he said softly, "I need to talk to you about something."
"Hm?" Harry asked, looking a little distracted. He had been attempting to polish his broom, even though it hardly needed any polish just yet.
Draco had the paper in hand and sat down nearby. "I need to talk to you about something."
"Yeah? Go on," Harry said, finally looking up at him and setting his broom aside.
"Do you remember the article about McLaggen?" he asked.
Harry nodded slowly, already not liking where this was going. "What about it?”
"There ... there isn't enough evidence to convict him," Draco said. "None of his other victims lived to testify."
Harry looked down and reached for the broom, trying to distract himself again. "So?”
Draco frowned. "I know one who did live."
Harry shook his head, beginning to tremble. "No, Draco, no ....”
"Then he will walk away. They will let him go." Draco knew that part of the reason McLaggen had been able to convince people he had been under Imperius was that he had been a Gryffindor, and, of course, that meant he wouldn't have willingly done the things he did.
Harry didn't want McLaggen to go free either. It frightened him to think of the man out there, doing those things to others, maybe even coming after Harry again. He clenched his bottom lip between his teeth and pushed the broom away, pulling his knees up to his chest and beginning to rock. "I ... I c-can't ....”
Draco knelt beside Harry, laying a hand over the other man's."It might actually help you get better, if you testified against him," he explained.
"You just want me to talk about it," Harry said, biting his lip harder and shaking.
"If I had my way, you would never have to talk about it, never have to even think about it again," Draco said fiercely. "But that's not how it works. Even if we erase it from your memories, you would still have the dreams, the fear."
"Talking about it just makes me remember. Makes me feel it," Harry whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. Just thinking about talking about it now made Harry shudder.
Draco squeezed Harry's hand, and tried to let it show in his face how much Harry meant to him. "I know," he said.
Harry didn't want to, he honestly didn't want to, but he could see no way out of it. "Would I have to say it ... say what happened ... in court?" he asked quietly.
"I don't know. We have to contact the Ministry first and let them know you have evidence against him," Draco explained.
Harry rubbed at his eyes and took a few deep breaths. "I really don't want to.”
"I won't force you to and I won't let anyone else," Draco said, still holding Harry's hand firmly in his own. "But I will stand by you if you do."
"The entire time?" Harry asked hopefully, looking at him and squeezing his hand.
"I will be beside you as long as you want and anywhere I can," the blond answered solemnly.
"Then ... then I'll do it," Harry said, resigned.
"Harry, I want you to be free of it, to be able to live your life," Draco insisted.
"I don't think I'll ever be, but ... I'll try, okay?"
"You are braver than you realise," Draco said, leaning forward to kiss him.
"I guess," Harry whispered, shoulders slumped with his dampened mood.
Draco stood looking down at Harry, unsure of what to do to help the man's misery. It was another of those moments when his urge to make Harry feel better seemed at odds with his training as a Healer. He sighed. "Maybe you'd feel better with a nice bath?" he suggested.
Harry shrugged and then took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He uncurled himself and stood up haltingly. "Okay," he answered, turning to walk up the stairs to go to the bathroom.
Draco followed him, worried. Harry had been making such good progress but something like this could cause a set-back, temporarily at least, even if in the long run confronting one of his attackers might help Harry.
Harry stepped inside of the room and started to undress, sitting down on the toilet seat lid so that Draco could set up the bath.
Draco started the taps running and picked up some lavender oil, adding it to the warm water.
Harry was waiting when he smelled the oil, frowning and looking down. There was something oddly familiar about it, but ... he couldn't remember exactly what.
Draco set the bottle aside and then leaned against the wall, waiting for Harry. "You ready to get in?"
Harry shook his head, reaching up to grip his hair as he tried to remember. But he couldn't. It was the smell, it had to be the smell ....
Concerned, Draco stepped closer, reaching to lay his hand atop Harry's, trying to soothe him. "Harry, can you hear me?"
Harry whimpered softly and shook his head again, gripping at his hair. "I can't remember," he mumbled, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.
"Harry, it is going to be okay. You are safe," Draco assured him, wrapping his other arm around Harry's shoulders.
Harry looked up at him then, his eyes opening quickly. "I'm trying to remember ... the water, it smells like ... something familiar," he tried to explain.
The blond cupped Harry's cheek with one hand. "Something good or bad?" he prompted.
Harry closed his eyes to think again, realising that it was only not remembering that was frustrating him. "Good ... I think ...."
"Let's get you into the water. Just relax and if it sparks more of a memory, that's fine. If not, that's okay, too," Draco assured him.
***
Harry tossed and turned, crying out that he didn't want to do it and that he was so sorry. But everything just went on as if he didn't say a word, the screaming, the thrusts, the pain.
Draco cried out as the blow woke him, and it took him few moments to figure out that he had been having a nightmare but that the blow had been real. Harry was having his own nightmare. Draco blinked and struggled to get a firm grasp on his lover who was thrashing. "Harry, it's me, you're safe," he insisted.
Harry sobbed as he was slowly pulled out of his dream, the fear making his heart beat rapidly. "I didn't want to," he whispered through it all, clinging to Draco.
"I know you didn't," Draco soothed, petting Harry’s hair as he held him. "He made you do it?"
"He made me ... he made me hurt her," Harry whimpered, pressing his face against Draco as he cried.
"A woman?" Draco asked, whispering.
Harry shuddered, but nodded, the memory alone making him feel sick.
"Who was she?" Draco asked.
"I don't know," Harry moaned, his voice anguished and broken.
"Was this McLaggen?" Draco asked. "He had you hurt a woman you didn't know?"
Harry nodded slowly, biting his lip and covering his mouth with both hands so that he wouldn't get sick. "Then he ... he killed her ....”
Draco nodded, shivering with his own memories as well. "It's how they do it, you know. How they make you one of them."
The thought made Harry sob again, struggling to get out of Draco's arms suddenly. "I'm just as guilty as them ...” he said, getting off the bed and turning to stumble out of the room, heading for the bathroom.
Draco scrambled after him, not stopping him but not letting him go anywhere without him. "No, you aren't," he insisted.
"I am!” Harry ran into the bathroom and fell to his knees in front of the toilet, throwing up forcefully.
Draco stood beside him, reaching to hold Harry's hair back for him. He had had enough of those moments himself to understand. "Then I am, too," he said.
Harry shook his head, not believing that at all. "You aren't," he whispered. "I tried to stop him but he made me do things!”
"That's more than I ever did," Draco said, running the water in the sink. He handed Harry a glass and then used a flannel to clean his face.
Harry rinsed out his mouth out and sighed, turning his face up to let Draco wash him. "And I then I lay there ... and let it happen ....”
Draco led Harry back to the room, pulling him down to sit. "And was there anything you could have done that would have saved her?"
"Fought harder," Harry whispered. "At least taken the attention off of her.”
"Was she a Muggle?" Draco asked.
"I guess so," Harry mumbled, feeling tired again.
"Then she was dead no matter what you did. They used them for sport," Draco said, bitterness in his voice. "My aunt tried to teach me ....” He stopped, looking down.
Harry winced and took Draco's hand, turning to move back onto the bed. "I don't want to talk about it anymore.”
"Listen to me," Draco whispered. "I ... I did things, too. And I had less reason than you did."
Harry let go of Draco's hand and curled up on the bed. "You did?"
"Summer after fifth year," Draco said. "My Aunt Bellatrix had escaped from Azkaban. She was ... trying to make me into one of them."
"I'm sorry you had to go through that," Harry said softly, lifting a trembling hand to reach out for him.
Draco gathered him into his arms. "She tortured and killed Muggles, made me watch and tried to get me to ... made me participate. I know how that works."
"It hurt more than anything to have to listen to her screams," Harry whispered, curling up in Draco's arms.
Draco nodded. "I still hear them sometimes," he said, voice catching. "But, Harry, they would have hurt and killed her even if you hadn't been there."
"It's just how I am," Harry sighed, closing his eyes. "Can't help it."
"Feeling compassion for her is good, but not guilt that will destroy your life and let her killer go free," Draco explained.
"I said I'd testify," Harry said quietly.
"It is brave and important," Draco said, then cupped Harry's chin, kissing his lips and then resting his forehead against Harry's. "Now is there anything I can do to make you feel better?"
"Just hold me," Harry said, still feeling a little shaken up.
Draco lay back on the bed, pulling the covers up over them. Then he pulled Harry close, petting him and making soothing noises.
Harry fell asleep a short while later, curling up next to Draco with a sigh.
***
Harry was chained in his usual corner, begging for attention or food, when they brought Lucius in. His body was blackened and bloody. Harry had never seen Voldemort so angry before. The creature screamed, promising great rewards to any of his followers who managed to capture Malfoy's killer.
That night Harry was brought to Voldemort's bedchamber. Harry knelt down in front of Voldemort's bed like he always did, his arms wrapped around himself as he trembled. He could tell how angry Voldemort was about the death of Lucius, and now he was scared that it was going to all be taken out on him.
Voldemort waved his hand and the chains fell from Harry. Then the red-eyed monster of a man advanced on him, face looking as grim as it ever had. Harry leaned away from him and whimpered softly, even though his body was craving contact like it always was.
Voldemort hissed and reached for Harry, grabbing him by the hair and literally dragging him across the floor, throwing him face down over the edge of the bed. Harry cried out and pressed his face against the bed, his fingers digging into the sheets as he braced himself for the pain that would come. It didn't take long. Voldemort stripped himself magically and shoved himself into Harry, rutting nearly frantically into him, one clawed hand pressed into the small of Harry's back and the other raking red furrows in his skin.
Harry cried out again and again, gripping the sheets so tightly that his knuckles were white. He could only squeeze his eyes shut and wait until he was done.
Voldemort hissed as he came and then shoved off Harry, leaving him lying there in pain again.
Harry panted softly, curling up the best he could. "Can ... can I come, please?" he whispered, his erection still throbbing painfully.
Voldemort ignored him, firing a hex at a chair which burst into pieces, and then stood there shaking.
"Please," Harry begged from where he lay, shaking as well.
Voldemort looked over his shoulder at Harry, looking confused, as if he had forgotten he was there. He flicked his hand and the control was released on Harry's cock – and Harry screamed, not expecting the spell to be lifted so quickly. It hurt when he came and he jerked until it was over, leaving him panting.
Voldemort stood over him then, looking at him curiously. "When was the last time you were bathed?" he asked.
"I don't know," Harry whispered, looking confused by the question. Since when did anyone care about that?
"Follow me," Voldemort said and turned, walking to the adjoining bathroom.
Harry wanted to ask for food as he got off the bed and crawled after Voldemort, but decided not to, wondering if he was going to get a bath now. He didn't want to hurt his chances of that by wanting food.
Voldemort waved a hand and the large bath filled with warm, softly-scented water. "Clean yourself and then come back to the room."
Harry stared at the bath for a long moment, glancing up at Voldemort and then back at the bath, as if waiting for the obvious trick. When there wasn't one that he could notice immediately, he took a chance and crawled over to the bath, biting his lip and dipping his hand in it. Nothing happened. In fact the water was warm, and it smelled so nice. But there had to be a catch. He glanced back at Voldemort again.
Voldemort turned and left the room.
Harry turned his gaze back to the bath and hesitated only a moment longer before he pulled himself up and then climbed into it, hissing softly as he settled down into the warm water. Nothing bad happened, so he decided he might as well enjoy it while it lasted. He sunk down until his entire body was covered, the various cuts and welts burning a little as the water got into them. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this comfortable. And, to his surprise, the warm water seemed to soothe the need for touch, at least some.
Harry washed his face off, wishing he had a mirror just to see how he looked. He felt horrible, and probably looked the same, especially without his glasses. They had been broken beyond repair during one of his days in the room. Things were blurry, but he adjusted. He dipped his head under the water to wash his hair out, and then he just lay there, not knowing how much time was passing by. He stayed in the water until he felt it start to go cold. Harry slowly pulled himself out of the bath and shivered in the cool air, noticing that Voldemort didn't give him a towel or anything. He sighed and turned, crawling out of the bathroom and back into the room.
Voldemort was sitting in his chair by the fireplace. "You can eat," he said off-handedly, red eyes staring into the flames.
"Eat what?" Harry asked, still confused at the way Voldemort was behaving.
Voldemort looked over at the table, frowning. He snapped his fingers and food appeared on it.
"Anything?" Harry asked, swallowing hard once the food appeared.
"Whatever you like," Voldemort said, turning back to the fire.
Harry watched him for a moment before he crawled over to the table and began to pull food down from it, collecting a few pieces of chicken in his lap before he began to eat quickly.
Lucius' chair was in pieces and Voldemort leaned forward, picking up bits and throwing each one into the fire.
It was then that Harry realised what might be the real reason why Voldemort was like this. He was grieving. "I'm sorry," he said softly, swallowing the food in his mouth.
Voldemort ignored him, continuing to throw things into the fire and watch them burn.
Harry wasn't used to having so much food and he could only eat two pieces of the chicken before he felt full. He pushed the rest of it away and crawled around Voldemort's chair so that he was near the fire to dry off.
Voldemort finished burning the chair, sweeping the rest into the fire with magic and then sat back in his own.
Harry was quiet as well, pulling his knees up to his chest. "Did you love him?" he asked softly after a moment.
Voldemort scowled but didn't deny it.
"I am sorry," Harry whispered again.