Undesirable - COMPLETE
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Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
31
Views:
43,525
Reviews:
301
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
31
Views:
43,525
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.
The Burden of Memory
Chapter Number/Total: 28/31
Chapter Title: The Burden of Memory
Words: 2239 Words
Over the next couple of weeks, they seemed to fall into a pattern in which Harry hardly left the Dark Lord's side. Some of the others actually even grumbled about the lack of their 'fuck toy', but fell silent after Voldemort cast Cruciatus on one stupid enough to do so within his range of hearing.
"Come here, pretty whore," Voldemort said, having settled into the chair after dinner with Harry lying beside the fire again.
Harry got up and crawled over to where he sat, moving close enough so that he could rest his head on Voldemort's leg. Voldemort allowed him to rest like that for a while and then drew his robes back. Harry lifted his head and obediently leaned in to suck him into his mouth, having gotten used to the routine by then.
"Yes, such a good whore," Voldemort murmured. He had taken to using the word 'whore' as a kind of pet name for Harry and praising him with it. Harry hummed and closed his eyes, bobbing his head and sucking harder for him. Now, it wasn't so much about just getting it over with, it was more about what would make his Master moan louder in pleasure. Voldemort held on to the arms of the chair, panting and muttering, until he came, filling Harry's mouth. Harry had learned not to choke when his Master came like this, carefully swallowing the liquid and continuing to suck until he was done. Then he pulled back and sighed softly, resting his head back on Voldemort's leg.
"Can I come, please?" Harry whispered a few minutes later, using one hand to gently stroke Voldemort's robes. The Dark Lord had been allowing him to come nearly every time he pleasured him.
Voldemort nodded, laying his hand on Harry's head as he released him. Harry shuddered and moaned softly, gripping the robes as he came. "Thank you," he whispered, slowly relaxing and loosening his hold on the robes.
Harry lost a sense of how long he had been a captive, let alone in Voldemort's bed. There was a measure of peace now that he hadn't had before. Voldemort took his pleasure from him several times a day and because he released the binding then, Harry was in less pain, though no less needy. He was never present for strategy meetings and so the information he had about the war was only from comments said by the Death Eaters. There were apparently high losses on both sides.
Then it happened. The night they caught Lucius' killer. They dragged her in bound in chains, blood dripping already from cuts she had apparently received while being taken prisoner. Harry didn't look up from where he was kneeling down next to Voldemort with his head in his lap, hearing the chains and automatically knowing that it had to be yet another one of the prisoners they were bringing in to torture.
"Harry!" Tonks yelled.
Harry looked up and around, his eyes widening at the sight. "Tonks," he said, his eyes huge and looking back at Voldemort in confusion.
Voldemort ignored Harry, his own eyes gleaming angry red at the woman. "Take her apart," he hissed, and the others began to rip away her clothes.
"No," Harry cried out, unable to look away. He moved to get up suddenly, but he was chained to the ground, which frustrated him. "Stop it!"
Voldemort's fingers grabbed Harry's hair, holding him in place as they brought Tonks to the ground. Harry winced and looked back up at Voldemort. "Please make them stop," he begged, reaching to grip his Master's robes.
The Dark Lord twisted his hand in Harry's hair, pulling hard. "Silence, whore," he hissed. They had begun to rape her now and Tonks was screaming obscenities at the Death Eaters who held her down.
Harry whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut, reaching up to press his hands against his ears. "You're hurting her .... "
After a while, there were no words anymore, just agonised screams that seemed to echo around the room and the laughter of Death Eaters. Even with his hands pressed against his ears, Harry could hear the screams and they made him feel sick. He tried pulling his hair out of Voldemort's grip but it was useless. He was useless.
After what felt like forever to Harry, her voice broke, becoming ragged. There were choking sounds and Harry could still hear the sounds of the men hurting her now. Harry had no choice but to continue to listen, angry tears running down his face. He had begun, in some strange, twisted way, to trust Voldemort. This reminded Harry why he was even here in the first place – why he was taken as their whore – to humiliate him, to keep him in place so that he wouldn't do what he was supposed to do. Kill Voldemort. He gritted his teeth and vowed to do it, no matter what now. Not just for himself, but for the deaths of all the people he couldn't save.
They literally did what Voldemort said, eventually tearing her into pieces. Voldemort ordered what remained of Tonks' body burned.
After she was dead, Voldemort dragged Harry back to the room and what followed was brutal, painful and so much like the early rapes that Harry was left lying bleeding on the floor for the night. He was not allowed release or food. Even as Harry lay there in pain, he thought about how he would eventually kill Voldemort. He could only think of gaining his trust in order to get close enough. But he didn't have a wand or anything else for that matter. He'd have to think. He would have a lot of time to do that.
Harry didn't sleep much that night, but, as he had promised himself, he used the time thinking about what he would do. He decided that the best and only thing he could do was gain Voldemort's trust once more, after he had apparently lost it that night trying to get away and save Tonks. The next morning Harry pulled himself up and onto the bed. "Please forgive me, Master," he said, kneeling on the bed and then leaning down, pressing his forehead against the bed in a bow.
Voldemort stared at him for a bit. "You will still have to be properly and publicly punished, my pretty whore," he said.
"I deserve that," Harry said submissively.
"Good," Voldemort rewarded him by fucking him again. He wasn't allowed a release that morning, but he was given food. That day Voldemort let his followers use him for their sport again. It was somehow worse now after so much time only being used by the Dark Lord. By the end of the day he was in pain, exhausted and filthy. He trailed tiredly after Voldemort who immediately ordered him into the bath when they reached the suite again.
Harry sank down into the water with a shudder, cupping it in his hands and then splashing his face a few times. It was harder now that he had become used to just having days with Voldemort. It annoyed him to think that he'd been spoiled by the man. Harry only stayed in the tub for a while longer before he pulled himself out, shivering at the feel of the cold air before he crawled back into the room to face Voldemort again.
Voldemort seemed pleased, returning to their pattern of before, even allowing Harry his release after he fucked him. "Good whore," he hissed.
***
Harry stumbled into the bedroom and curled up on their bed, memories flooding him with pain and fear. He wanted to shut them out, lock them back wherever they had been hidden, but he was helpless to stop them now.
Draco padded into the room softly, removed his shoes and lay down beside him, resting one hand gently on Harry's back again. "I'm here, love," he whispered. "Right beside you, no matter what it is."
"I can remember," Harry sobbed, turning and pressing his face into the sheets, not caring how wet he got them.
"It's good that you do," Draco said, knowing it probably wouldn't feel that way.
"It isn't," Harry said, groaning as he remembered the beating he got the night after Tonks was killed.
"I know it hurts," Draco said. "It will help you heal." He lay there, rubbing Harry's back. "So they hurt her and killed her. But there's more, isn’t there?"
Harry sniffled and nodded, his eyes still squeezed shut. "Much more ....”
"Talk to me," Draco whispered. He didn't look forward to hearing more of the horrors Harry had endured. Yet, he would listen, for the other man's sake. If Harry could handle remembering, Draco would listen.
"He was mad at me for trying to help her," Harry whispered, swallowing hard.
"Voldemort?" Draco prompted.
"Master," Harry whispered, no longer sobbing. He opened his eyes slowly and stared straight ahead, as if he were seeing something that wasn't really there.
"He made you call him that ....”
"Master," Harry said again, still looking very distant.
"So after Tonks was killed, he hurt you ... but it wasn't the first time ....”
"No ...” Harry whispered. "But ... it was different ....” Harry could almost remember everything, and he didn't know how to feel about it now.
"How was it different?" Draco whispered, his stomach clenching as part of him realised that whatever it was would be very hard to hear.
"He let me take baths ... and fed me," Harry said softly, his eyes welling up with tears again as the feelings came back.
"Treated you as a human after you had been treated like an animal for so long," Draco whispered, understanding even if Harry didn't, the way that could warp a prisoner's perception.
"I was good.” Harry murmured. "I was a good whore ....”
Draco shivered at those words. "You pleased him so he rewarded you," he responded, wanting to deny what Harry was saying but his training was telling him he needed to keep him talking.
"And he let me come and ....” Harry stopped again, whimpering softly. "I had to ... I had to ....” He couldn't finish his sentence.
"Had to?"
"Kill Master," Harry whispered.
"You had to kill him ... but you ... you didn’t want to?" Draco asked, feeling sick now, but breathing carefully to control his reaction and his voice.
"He loved me," Harry said. "I know he did.”
Draco had to clench his jaw, his stomach roiling at the thought of the monster even touching Harry. Yes, he had known Voldemort had raped Harry, but ... to think of him being his lover was much worse in some ways. He took several deep breaths. "Because he treated you better than before, you came to feel he had affection for you,” he whispered.
Harry knew it sounded weird, but it was true. It was all coming back to him now, every night they had together, up to the night Harry killed him. "I loved him," he admitted softly. "I didn't want to kill him, but I had to."
"You loved ... Him?" Draco asked, his hand freezing involuntarily on Harry's back. This is why you weren't supposed to become involved with your patients. How could he be objective about this? How could he say all the right things when the man he was in love with just told him …?
"I told him ... and then I stabbed him," Harry said quietly. "But I always was a good and pretty whore for him. Always. When I was good, he didn't hurt me. That was good."
"I'm sorry," Draco gasped and rolled off the bed, making a dash for the door and to the bathroom.
Harry didn't seem to notice at first that Draco had left the room, too deep into his mind to be able to snap out of it just yet. Lost in another time and place.
Draco reached the loo and dropped to the floor, vomiting into the toilet. It was ridiculous. He had read the file, he should have expected something like this. He should have known. The truth was harder than he thought it would be.
Harry blinked and slowly sat up in the bed, feeling strange and lightheaded a good few minutes later. He wanted to sleep, but Draco wasn't around. "Draco?" he called out, slipping out of the bed and leaving the room, slowly walking down the hall. "Draco ... where are you?”
Draco got to his feet, flushing the toilet and splashing water on his face. "Here, Harry," he called out, voice hoarse.
Harry stopped in the doorway of the bathroom, biting his lip. "Are you mad at me?"
Draco was trembling still but he shook his head. "No, not mad at you," he gasped, still unable to look at Harry. It wasn't Harry's fault. Draco knew that. He knew it. But it still made him sick, made him hurt inside just thinking about it.
"Then what's wrong? I know I wasn't supposed to love him, I just ... I know it was bad," Harry explained.
Draco dried his face and hands and forced himself to turn around. "It's not your fault," he said aloud now. "You were a prisoner. You did what you needed to survive."
"I didn't need to love him to survive," Harry said softly, looking ashamed again.
Chapter Title: The Burden of Memory
Words: 2239 Words
Over the next couple of weeks, they seemed to fall into a pattern in which Harry hardly left the Dark Lord's side. Some of the others actually even grumbled about the lack of their 'fuck toy', but fell silent after Voldemort cast Cruciatus on one stupid enough to do so within his range of hearing.
"Come here, pretty whore," Voldemort said, having settled into the chair after dinner with Harry lying beside the fire again.
Harry got up and crawled over to where he sat, moving close enough so that he could rest his head on Voldemort's leg. Voldemort allowed him to rest like that for a while and then drew his robes back. Harry lifted his head and obediently leaned in to suck him into his mouth, having gotten used to the routine by then.
"Yes, such a good whore," Voldemort murmured. He had taken to using the word 'whore' as a kind of pet name for Harry and praising him with it. Harry hummed and closed his eyes, bobbing his head and sucking harder for him. Now, it wasn't so much about just getting it over with, it was more about what would make his Master moan louder in pleasure. Voldemort held on to the arms of the chair, panting and muttering, until he came, filling Harry's mouth. Harry had learned not to choke when his Master came like this, carefully swallowing the liquid and continuing to suck until he was done. Then he pulled back and sighed softly, resting his head back on Voldemort's leg.
"Can I come, please?" Harry whispered a few minutes later, using one hand to gently stroke Voldemort's robes. The Dark Lord had been allowing him to come nearly every time he pleasured him.
Voldemort nodded, laying his hand on Harry's head as he released him. Harry shuddered and moaned softly, gripping the robes as he came. "Thank you," he whispered, slowly relaxing and loosening his hold on the robes.
Harry lost a sense of how long he had been a captive, let alone in Voldemort's bed. There was a measure of peace now that he hadn't had before. Voldemort took his pleasure from him several times a day and because he released the binding then, Harry was in less pain, though no less needy. He was never present for strategy meetings and so the information he had about the war was only from comments said by the Death Eaters. There were apparently high losses on both sides.
Then it happened. The night they caught Lucius' killer. They dragged her in bound in chains, blood dripping already from cuts she had apparently received while being taken prisoner. Harry didn't look up from where he was kneeling down next to Voldemort with his head in his lap, hearing the chains and automatically knowing that it had to be yet another one of the prisoners they were bringing in to torture.
"Harry!" Tonks yelled.
Harry looked up and around, his eyes widening at the sight. "Tonks," he said, his eyes huge and looking back at Voldemort in confusion.
Voldemort ignored Harry, his own eyes gleaming angry red at the woman. "Take her apart," he hissed, and the others began to rip away her clothes.
"No," Harry cried out, unable to look away. He moved to get up suddenly, but he was chained to the ground, which frustrated him. "Stop it!"
Voldemort's fingers grabbed Harry's hair, holding him in place as they brought Tonks to the ground. Harry winced and looked back up at Voldemort. "Please make them stop," he begged, reaching to grip his Master's robes.
The Dark Lord twisted his hand in Harry's hair, pulling hard. "Silence, whore," he hissed. They had begun to rape her now and Tonks was screaming obscenities at the Death Eaters who held her down.
Harry whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut, reaching up to press his hands against his ears. "You're hurting her .... "
After a while, there were no words anymore, just agonised screams that seemed to echo around the room and the laughter of Death Eaters. Even with his hands pressed against his ears, Harry could hear the screams and they made him feel sick. He tried pulling his hair out of Voldemort's grip but it was useless. He was useless.
After what felt like forever to Harry, her voice broke, becoming ragged. There were choking sounds and Harry could still hear the sounds of the men hurting her now. Harry had no choice but to continue to listen, angry tears running down his face. He had begun, in some strange, twisted way, to trust Voldemort. This reminded Harry why he was even here in the first place – why he was taken as their whore – to humiliate him, to keep him in place so that he wouldn't do what he was supposed to do. Kill Voldemort. He gritted his teeth and vowed to do it, no matter what now. Not just for himself, but for the deaths of all the people he couldn't save.
They literally did what Voldemort said, eventually tearing her into pieces. Voldemort ordered what remained of Tonks' body burned.
After she was dead, Voldemort dragged Harry back to the room and what followed was brutal, painful and so much like the early rapes that Harry was left lying bleeding on the floor for the night. He was not allowed release or food. Even as Harry lay there in pain, he thought about how he would eventually kill Voldemort. He could only think of gaining his trust in order to get close enough. But he didn't have a wand or anything else for that matter. He'd have to think. He would have a lot of time to do that.
Harry didn't sleep much that night, but, as he had promised himself, he used the time thinking about what he would do. He decided that the best and only thing he could do was gain Voldemort's trust once more, after he had apparently lost it that night trying to get away and save Tonks. The next morning Harry pulled himself up and onto the bed. "Please forgive me, Master," he said, kneeling on the bed and then leaning down, pressing his forehead against the bed in a bow.
Voldemort stared at him for a bit. "You will still have to be properly and publicly punished, my pretty whore," he said.
"I deserve that," Harry said submissively.
"Good," Voldemort rewarded him by fucking him again. He wasn't allowed a release that morning, but he was given food. That day Voldemort let his followers use him for their sport again. It was somehow worse now after so much time only being used by the Dark Lord. By the end of the day he was in pain, exhausted and filthy. He trailed tiredly after Voldemort who immediately ordered him into the bath when they reached the suite again.
Harry sank down into the water with a shudder, cupping it in his hands and then splashing his face a few times. It was harder now that he had become used to just having days with Voldemort. It annoyed him to think that he'd been spoiled by the man. Harry only stayed in the tub for a while longer before he pulled himself out, shivering at the feel of the cold air before he crawled back into the room to face Voldemort again.
Voldemort seemed pleased, returning to their pattern of before, even allowing Harry his release after he fucked him. "Good whore," he hissed.
***
Harry stumbled into the bedroom and curled up on their bed, memories flooding him with pain and fear. He wanted to shut them out, lock them back wherever they had been hidden, but he was helpless to stop them now.
Draco padded into the room softly, removed his shoes and lay down beside him, resting one hand gently on Harry's back again. "I'm here, love," he whispered. "Right beside you, no matter what it is."
"I can remember," Harry sobbed, turning and pressing his face into the sheets, not caring how wet he got them.
"It's good that you do," Draco said, knowing it probably wouldn't feel that way.
"It isn't," Harry said, groaning as he remembered the beating he got the night after Tonks was killed.
"I know it hurts," Draco said. "It will help you heal." He lay there, rubbing Harry's back. "So they hurt her and killed her. But there's more, isn’t there?"
Harry sniffled and nodded, his eyes still squeezed shut. "Much more ....”
"Talk to me," Draco whispered. He didn't look forward to hearing more of the horrors Harry had endured. Yet, he would listen, for the other man's sake. If Harry could handle remembering, Draco would listen.
"He was mad at me for trying to help her," Harry whispered, swallowing hard.
"Voldemort?" Draco prompted.
"Master," Harry whispered, no longer sobbing. He opened his eyes slowly and stared straight ahead, as if he were seeing something that wasn't really there.
"He made you call him that ....”
"Master," Harry said again, still looking very distant.
"So after Tonks was killed, he hurt you ... but it wasn't the first time ....”
"No ...” Harry whispered. "But ... it was different ....” Harry could almost remember everything, and he didn't know how to feel about it now.
"How was it different?" Draco whispered, his stomach clenching as part of him realised that whatever it was would be very hard to hear.
"He let me take baths ... and fed me," Harry said softly, his eyes welling up with tears again as the feelings came back.
"Treated you as a human after you had been treated like an animal for so long," Draco whispered, understanding even if Harry didn't, the way that could warp a prisoner's perception.
"I was good.” Harry murmured. "I was a good whore ....”
Draco shivered at those words. "You pleased him so he rewarded you," he responded, wanting to deny what Harry was saying but his training was telling him he needed to keep him talking.
"And he let me come and ....” Harry stopped again, whimpering softly. "I had to ... I had to ....” He couldn't finish his sentence.
"Had to?"
"Kill Master," Harry whispered.
"You had to kill him ... but you ... you didn’t want to?" Draco asked, feeling sick now, but breathing carefully to control his reaction and his voice.
"He loved me," Harry said. "I know he did.”
Draco had to clench his jaw, his stomach roiling at the thought of the monster even touching Harry. Yes, he had known Voldemort had raped Harry, but ... to think of him being his lover was much worse in some ways. He took several deep breaths. "Because he treated you better than before, you came to feel he had affection for you,” he whispered.
Harry knew it sounded weird, but it was true. It was all coming back to him now, every night they had together, up to the night Harry killed him. "I loved him," he admitted softly. "I didn't want to kill him, but I had to."
"You loved ... Him?" Draco asked, his hand freezing involuntarily on Harry's back. This is why you weren't supposed to become involved with your patients. How could he be objective about this? How could he say all the right things when the man he was in love with just told him …?
"I told him ... and then I stabbed him," Harry said quietly. "But I always was a good and pretty whore for him. Always. When I was good, he didn't hurt me. That was good."
"I'm sorry," Draco gasped and rolled off the bed, making a dash for the door and to the bathroom.
Harry didn't seem to notice at first that Draco had left the room, too deep into his mind to be able to snap out of it just yet. Lost in another time and place.
Draco reached the loo and dropped to the floor, vomiting into the toilet. It was ridiculous. He had read the file, he should have expected something like this. He should have known. The truth was harder than he thought it would be.
Harry blinked and slowly sat up in the bed, feeling strange and lightheaded a good few minutes later. He wanted to sleep, but Draco wasn't around. "Draco?" he called out, slipping out of the bed and leaving the room, slowly walking down the hall. "Draco ... where are you?”
Draco got to his feet, flushing the toilet and splashing water on his face. "Here, Harry," he called out, voice hoarse.
Harry stopped in the doorway of the bathroom, biting his lip. "Are you mad at me?"
Draco was trembling still but he shook his head. "No, not mad at you," he gasped, still unable to look at Harry. It wasn't Harry's fault. Draco knew that. He knew it. But it still made him sick, made him hurt inside just thinking about it.
"Then what's wrong? I know I wasn't supposed to love him, I just ... I know it was bad," Harry explained.
Draco dried his face and hands and forced himself to turn around. "It's not your fault," he said aloud now. "You were a prisoner. You did what you needed to survive."
"I didn't need to love him to survive," Harry said softly, looking ashamed again.