After the war was over

B> PART THREE -RETURNING WHAT WAS MISSING

Draco Malfoy was heading back to the castle. He had done his rounds for the evening and whilst it would still not be getting dark until about 10.30 at this time of year he still liked to be in his hut before then, as there were a number of things roaming the Forbidden Forest that were not conducive to his well being at all. Finally inside the hut that had belonged to Hagrid once upon a time, Draco leaned against the heavy wooden door and closed his eyes with fatigue.

Everything was still so tiring. Things were better than they had been for a good many years he supposed, but when he looked back on his childhood and realised how privileged he had been, how loved, he could not help feeling just a little self pity. His life was so dissimilar from what he had expected growing up. He couldn’t say that he did not deserve many of the things that had happened to him, because he believed deep down that he did. But sometimes he could not help wishing that things had been different.

If only he had gone straight to Dumbledore when he had been given that mission by the Dark Lord. He and his parents would have been safe, hidden and protected. They would not have died and he would not have ended up as a drug addict and a whore.

When he had first gone to the Dark Lord he had been so arrogant, so sure that Voldemort would accept him, welcome him. He was a Malfoy after all. He knew that he and his mother had been under a shadow, after his father’s arrest, but if he could offer his services then the Dark Lord would forgive them, help release his father and things could go on as they always had.

Then he had met Voldemort for the first time.

He shuddered even now to think of it. He covered his face with his hands and sank into one of the rough-hewn chairs that furnished his kitchen. That monster, that distorted twisted face, he had been what his father had sworn allegiance to? How could he have done that? And in his turn Draco had made exactly the same mistake as his father thinking to find some power or the salving of a bruised ego at the feet of an evil megalomaniac.

Through all that long year Draco had felt so alone, so desperate and all he’d needed to do was to visit Dumbledore and throw himself on the old wizards mercy.

When they had run from Hogwarts himself and Snape he had been panicked, almost hysterical. They had apparated immediately to the woods outside what had turned out to be Riddle Manor. Snape had tried to get Draco to go home, promising that he would protect him and Narcissa, but again in his arrogance Draco had refused. After all Dumbledore was dead and he had been instrumental in that death even if he had not cast the final curse surely the Dark Lord would understand that and would not punish him too severely? But Draco had been wrong, very, very wrong. He realised now that the Dark Lord had never meant him to succeed, and enjoyed watching the pretty blonde son of Lucius Malfoy get what he had decided was coming to him.

Standing before Voldemort that time, had felt very different from the last. After Dumbledore’s death, Snape had stood beside him gloating at his failure. Before he had had his Aunt Bella at his side, supporting him, egging him on. He had been bloody terrified, but not like this. The Dark Mark had hurt like hell, but once that had been seared into his arm he had known there was no going back. So he had swallowed his revulsion of the thing called the Dark Lord, squared his shoulders and vowed to do his best to serve his master.

This time though he was surrounded by men in black cloaks and masks, and they were so sinister, so fucking frightening. He had known most of them since he had been a small child but he knew not a single one would lift a finger to help him. So he’d stood all alone in the midst of all those people. In front of him an ornate gilt throne in a large ballroom, not a small antechamber like before and this time of course he had fucked up. This time he would be punished.

“Ah, it is the littlest Malfoy,” hissed Voldemort smirking down at him with his twisted, distorted features. “He couldn’t do it hhmmm Severus? A fool and a coward just like his father. He is not much use as a Death Eater is he?”

“So what can we use him for? Well he’s pretty enough lets see what he has to offer.

“All right, littlest Malfoy. Strip!”

Draco had thought he was going to be sick. He started to tremble in earnest; surely Voldemort couldn’t mean that could he?

“But my Lord,” said Severus, standing somewhat closer to Draco, “ He is just a child, I’ll take him away and punish him if you like, you needn’t see him again, if he offends you he can assist me in my lab.”

Voldemort turned to Snape then and narrowed his eyes “Severus you have feelings for the boy don’t you. You want him for your own?” Draco’s eyes widened at the thought of Snape having sex with him and he started to tremble, but later on he looked back and wondered how he could have felt such revulsion for Severus, he at least would have been gentle and considerate when he fucked him, unlike so very many others over the years.

“Yes, M’Lord,” Snape said bowing his head to Voldemort

Draco froze in horror, but Snape was standing very close to him now and under the cover of the long sleeves of their robes he gently squeezed Draco’s hand, just once and then let it fall back. And Draco knew that he had been a complete and utter fool. Severus had been trying to protect him all along, and he hadn’t wanted the glory. He was trying to dissuade the Dark Lord from doing whatever it was he was planning with Draco, and Draco just knew he had to play along. He fell to his knees then, ready to beg, he did not want to think about what was in store for him. He couldn’t think about that.

“Ppp..please” he begged “ Please Master, I’ll serve you how you wish.”

“Severus” Purred Voldemort red eyes gleaming with delight, “he wants to serve me. You don’t share your toys and I want to watch. You can have him later maybe. Don’t ask again Severus, I have been lenient with you because of your magnificent success with that old fool Dumbledore.

“Leave now and I’ll let you have him to play with later. He is far too arrogant this son of Lucius and I want to see him broken. But I’ll save him for you, I won’t have him killed tonight at least.” He turned again to Draco and said more firmly this time. “Strip or I will have your clothes torn from you.”

Draco could see that Severus dithered, he could not seem to leave him alone here, but one more look from the Dark Lord stopped him moving forward towards Draco again and with a deep bow to Voldemort he turned on his heel and swept from the room.

Draco shit himself.

He felt the watery liquid run down his legs and he started to whimper. “Nononono, please no,” he murmured, head down, unable to look at anyone. Then he was lifted to his feet, his clothes were unceremoniously ripped from his body and he felt a cleaning charm being used to get rid of the mess that his bowels had left on his body, he tried to struggle but one of the men who held him backhanded him across the face knocking him to the ground.

“Do it now!!” He said, “do not disobey our Lord.” and Draco realised that the man was his own uncle, Lestrange, then he knew for certain that tonight for him there was to be no escape. “Sorry, sss…ssorry.” he mumbled pulling himself back to his knees with trembling fingers, he struggled to remove the remains of his ruined clothing. “M’ sss…ssorry.” He was shivering so hard he could hear his teeth chattering, but nevertheless he struggled to his feet, completely naked he tried to cover himself, sobbing openly now.

As he stood his hands were roughly pulled behind his back and tied there with something thin and leathery.

The men surrounding him had known him all his life and yet not one of them protested against his treatment, instead he heard laughs and taunts and promises of how hard they would fuck him. Bound and naked there was nothing he could do but obey when the Dark Lord commanded him to turn around slowly so, “they could all see what was on offer.” So turn he did.

“Look at him, he loves it the little tart.” Said one merciless voice, “Loves being the centre of attention. Always did, nasty piece of shit that he is.”

Dirty little bastard,” said another, “he can’t wait to get a cock inside him!”

Then they started to bid on who would be first. They were bidding currency alright, but they were bidding knuts, knuts to see which one would fuck him first and then Draco realised that they were not bidding on him, but on a thick black leather collar that Peter Pettigrew was holding high in the air. It went for thirty-three knuts and some promises of appalling things to be done to him. Finally purchased, the collar was thrown into the crowd of crowing, baying men. Walden MacNair came forward and buckled it firmly around Draco’s neck, grabbing his arm, he began to drag Draco to a table that was placed in the centre of the room. Draco started to plead again now and to try and pull away. “Nononono, pp...ppplease no pplease ppplease.”

MacNair put his face close to Draco’s then, so close that Draco could feel the hot fetid breath against his neck. “Oh Yesss boy,” he growled harsh stubbled cheek pressed against Draco’s smooth one. “You’re mine now. No Daddy to get you out of this one. I am going to fuck your pert little arse until you bleed!”

Draco found himself bent over the table and held in place with a strong hand, one that no matter how much he struggled against it would not let him get away. Still sobbing in despair Draco became still and endeavoured to relax as much as he could to try and prevent the pain he knew was coming

He felt the hard tip of MacNair’s cock against the tender entrance to his arse, just breaching the tight muscles, when he heard a commotion and the door to the chamber burst open. Narcissa Malfoy flew into the chamber like an avenging angel and Walden MacNair went crashing across the room propelled by a curse from Draco’s mother.

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Draco had tried really hard over the years not to think about what had happened later that evening. Muggles had drugs that helped you forget, even if it was only for a while. But when Weasley found him Muggle substances didn’t do much for him anymore and his veins were beginning to collapse from all the shooting up he had done. He knew that he would finally have to remember what had happened because he could not bury it inside himself any more.

If he had not been a wizard then the sheer quantity of drugs that he had taken over the years would undoubtedly have killed him. But Draco was a wizard despite his ten-year-long absence of wand. Those memories never really left him; they always lingered in the corners of his mind haunting him. They were so hard to deal with, so fragmented, so agonising. The evening that he had gone before Voldemort something inside Draco had shattered forever and by the time morning had come he knew looking back that he had been quite, quite mad.

Here and now in his little hut, scenes from that horrid night played again clearly in his mind and he climbed into his bed, fully clothed. He pulled the fluffy duvet that Hermione had given him up over his head, squeezed his eyes tight shut and tried to will the memories away. But the images washed over him faster and faster and Draco knew that nothing now would stop the assault on his consciousness.

He remembered the Dark Lord not being too happy with his mother’s attempt to break up his little party.

“Ah Narcissa,” He had said. “Do join us. But what is all this? Don’t you want your little boy to live? Because his only use to me is as a fucktoy.”

“You fucking bastard,” She screamed “haven’t you had enough from my family? He is just a child. Take me instead.”

“But Narcissa, I don’t want you my dear.
“Maybe you don’t like the thought of Walden being the first of the many Death Eaters having fun with your son tonight? You never liked him much did you? Tell you what I’ll give you that, as a favour to an old friend. Wait your turn Walden. Fenrir, why don’t you start the ball rolling so to speak? Cissa let’s give you a little something to take your mind off Draco’s screams and hear some of yours as well, you always had such a lovely voice.

“Crucio.”

And Narcissa did scream then. Draco had somehow, with his arms still bound behind him picked himself up from where he had fallen and tried to go to his mother but the Death Eaters grabbed him, forced him back to the table and held him down as Fenrir Greyback, growling in anticipation took out his thick red cock and rammed it deep into Draco’s unprepared hole. The werewolf sank his teeth into Draco’s back as he breeched him and Draco’s screams of agony joined his mother’s echoing around that large, gracious, uncaring room.

It was much, much later that someone finally cut Draco’s hands free.

The leather cord had cut deeply into his wrists and his shoulders were agony from being forced back into such an uncomfortable position. Whoever it was held a cup of cool water to his lips and he couldn’t help but gulp it down, it felt so good against his sore throat.

“I’m so sorry, Draco.” Said a voice, “I had to leave, I couldn’t see them do that to you, to Cissa,” The man held him then and started to sob. Draco didn’t know what the man was crying about. He hadn’t just been fucked by about twenty men, he wasn’t covered in blood and spit and piss and come.

Draco found himself being gently wiped down; the man was using the ruined clothing that had been left scattered around to try to clean away the worst of the dried on fluids that covered him. It hurt a lot ‘cause there was so much of it and he was sore all over, but especially his bum.

“I want my Mummy,” Draco croaked. He knew she was here somewhere because he had seen her earlier. Draco knew it was time to go home, he didn’t like being here anymore, cause mean men kept sticking their dicks in his mouth and his arse and that just wasn’t nice. His Daddy would be really cross when he found out.

So Draco pulled himself away from the man and crept over to the corner where he had last seen his mother, hoping that she hadn’t gone without him like she once threatened to do at Pansy’s house when he had been naughty. But no she was still there. So he crawled to her and went to cuddle close. But his mummy was cold, so Draco didn’t know what to do. He whimpered quietly to himself then he got up and looked about for bit.

Finally he found the cloak that he had been wearing when he came in. He wrapped it around her as best he could, then lay down beside her and cuddled in.

“Ssshhh Mummy don’t cry,” he said gently patting her cheek, “Shh!” Curled up against her he knew that the house elves would come in soon with hot chocolate, and Daddy would be back and he would be cross if Draco was up past his bedtime. So he pressed his sore body against the cold one of his mother, put his thumb in his mouth like he used to do when he was very small and slowly drifted off to sleep, humming very softly to comfort himself and his mummy and keep the bad dreams away.

Later that morning they had taken his mummy away and fucked him again.


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Draco had been watching the boy for some time now. He hadn’t dared go too close ‘cause then the badmen would be cross with him and it hadn’t been so terrible lately. They didn’t hurt him much these days when they fucked him. He didn’t know if that was because they were gentler or because his arse was broken in. Sometimes the cryingman gave him potions to drink and they made the soreness go away. Draco didn’t like the cryingman because he kept looking at Draco with sad, wet eyes and that made his tummy feel funny inside.

So Draco had been avoiding him hiding here in the cellar.

Uncle Lestrange had fucked him just a short while ago and now he had a plug in his arse with a tail on that matched his hair. Draco liked that cause it tickled the backs of his thighs and it was silky. The plug didn’t feel too big anymore like it used to and Uncle Lestrange enjoyed putting it in him’ cause he said it kept his spunk inside Draco and marked him as his for a while.

Draco didn’t mind so much when Uncle Lestrange played with him because he stroked him gently all over while he was fucking him and didn’t bite his shoulders like Greyback did or piss on him or force his cock down his throat like MacNair. He just bent him over shoved his dick in his arse and came fairly quickly. He always gave Draco chocolate to eat after he’d rammed the plug in and told him he was a good boy. So Draco thought he probably liked him and Draco liked being liked.

But today he wanted to play with the boy. The boy had nice green eyes and his dark hair looked soft and Draco wanted to touch it. He was crying and Draco wanted to comfort him cause he was lonely too now that his mummy didn’t come back or his daddy.

“Hello boy.” He said finally plucking up courage and crawling closer to the cage in which the boy was huddled. “Why’re you crying boy? Don’t you like it when the badmen fuck you? ‘Cause it doesn’t hurt so much after a bit and sometimes they give you chocolate and pretty jewellery see?” He fingered the rings that the snakeman had had put in his nipples and cock and poked his tongue out to show the boy the stud that went through it. “I play with this sometimes in my mouth” He said lisping as he spoke with his tongue out, “and they like it when you run it on their dicks it makes them come faster and that’s good isn’t it?”

The boy had stopped crying and was looking directly at him so Draco thought he must be doing something right, he carried on showing the boy the pretty things he was wearing. “They got me a nicer collar. I had a black one before but it was ugly, this one is red, I like red. It’s always been my favourite colour. And look at my tail! It’s the same as my hair!”

Draco stopped then because the boy was saying something and Draco had to listen cause sometimes people said important things and if you didn’t hear them they beat you or burned you or pulled your hair or twisted your arms and those things really hurt.

“Malfoy?” said the boy “D…ddraco?”

Draco was surprised cause the boy knew him? Had he fucked Draco then, because the boy was pretty and not fat or ugly or smelly, well not very smelly and Draco was sure that he would have remembered being fucked by him?

“Do I know you boy?” He said “have you fucked me then? Cause I don’t remember.”

“Oh Draco, what have they done to you?”

The boy had moved away from the corner in which he was huddled and shuffled painfully nearer to the bars and to Draco. He had reached out with his arms and looked like he wanted to cuddle him. Draco was really excited and rushed forward cause he liked cuddles and nobody ever cuddled him here. And then he was in the boy’s arms and Draco was so happy because he knew him, he knew the boy even if he didn’t know where from and he knew that he wouldn’t hurt him, not deliberately anyway. Draco was safe here with this boy.

“Poor, poor Draco,” The boy was saying and Draco nearly wet himself with joy because this was so nice, and then the boy was stroking his hair and his face and Draco’s cock got really hard and it almost never did that and Draco knew that the boy must like him, really like him, not just pretend like him as the badmen did when he was sucking their dicks.

And then the boy was wrapping something about him and it was warm and soft and Draco was never warm ‘cause he was always naked and it was always cold here. So he snuggled in as close as he could with the cage in the way and the boy looked deep into his eyes and seemed to understand him. Boy knew what it was like to be fucked by badmen and held down and hurt so he wouldn’t hurt Draco, he’d keep him safe, he’d proved his goodness by hugging him closer and smiling at him.

They sat like that for quite a long time, cuddled together. Draco was humming to himself like he did when he was happy, or frightened and wanted the monsters to go away and to not fuck him or hurt him anymore. The boy was tracing idle circles on his back and it was really lovely, then rather awkwardly Draco thought Boy pulled him closer still and leaning through the bars gently placed a kiss on his forehead. And it was wonderful, sitting there so warm and peaceful and cared for with the plug inside him gently nudging against his prostate. Then unable to stop himself, his cock throbbing with the sheer pleasure of it all. Draco came. He came hard and he hadn’t done that not in all the time he had been here and as he came a name sprang into his head clear and sharp. And he couldn’t help himself but yell it out as his cock pumped itself into the soft warm blanket. “Harry.” He shouted “Oh God. Harry.”


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Harry had protected him.

Draco hadn’t realised it at the time but looking back he knew that it was so. How could he have realised though? Wizards couldn’t use some sort of bastardised notice-me-not spell without a wand and without even saying the words could they? Well apparently Harry could and did! Thinking back in his more lucid moments over the years Draco had realised that from the day that Draco had first crawled into Harry’s cell, the Death Eaters had more or less left him alone.

Occasionally Draco would see MacNair or Greyback eyeing him up, but then soon enough they forgot about him and went back to whatever it was they were planning to do before they thought of him. Once MacNair had held him down and tried to fuck him but his cock had stayed as limp and unresponsive as Draco’s had been all those times that he had been fucked when he hadn’t wanted to be.

Most of the time Draco just hid away in the cellar, sometimes the badmen would give him some food and he always had the blanket that Harry had transfigured for him so he was never cold now. The cryingman found them too, Draco liked him more now because sometimes when he thought nobody was looking he would be nice to Harry and though he said mean words his eyes were damp like they had been before when he looked at Draco. Quite a lot the badmen would take Harry away and give him lots of pain and Harry would cry and scream. But he would curse them too; he never gave in, not once, not like Draco had. But the best times were when it was just he and Harry, and they cuddled close and talked to each other.

Harry said that they hadn’t always been friends before when they knew each other. But that now they were and that Harry would be Draco’s friend for always and that he would look after him and Draco knew that his home was with Harry now because he had nowhere else to go. And as the badmen left him alone and as time went on he began very slowly to get better. He started to remember things sometimes, fragments of his old life – not always welcome. Things that he had just not allowed himself to think about and Harry had always been there and had comforted him when he cried and that was good because sometimes Draco cried a lot.

Draco remembered that the cryingman’s name was Snape and he knew that even though he worked for the snakeman he still tried to help Draco when no-one was looking, and he remembered that the badmen were called Death Eaters and that they had killed his mum and that later his dad had tried to protect him and then he had died too. Draco felt that it was his fault because his mum and dad would not have died if it had not been for him but Harry said not to think that way.

“Trust me Draco,” he had said, “I know all about misplaced guilt.”

One day Draco remembered that once, when they were younger, Harry had hated him and he was so distraught, so very upset, that he couldn’t stop crying for a long, long time after that. But Harry had held him and stroked his hair and finally he had calmed down and Harry had said that he had never really hated Draco. Not like he hated Voldemort and that it didn’t matter anyway because Harry loved him now and always would. Draco told Harry that the name Voldemort was French and that it meant “Flight of Death” and Draco thought that that name suited him really, really well because that’s what he did bring in his wake, death.

So then they discussed French and the fact that Draco was completely fluent in the language and gradually more of Draco’s submerged personality started to show. He was talented at languages and a good teacher and he loved giving Harry something in return for bringing him back from insanity, for that indeed was what Harry had done. And so that was how Draco Malfoy came to spend his days and nights in a damp cold cellar surrounded by evil and madness and torture, teaching Harry Potter the glorious language of French and somewhere in those long hard weeks filled with Draco’s fear and Harry’s pain and the lack of tomorrows, the boys fell deeply, completely, in love.

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“Hmmm,” Harry said one morning when they were discussing names.

Draco had known all kinds of things about the Potters. Harold was apparently a fairly traditional name for Potter males and most of them bore it somewhere amongst their titles, it stretched back to an ancestor of the Potter line who had died at the battle of Hastings when someone had stuck a wand in his eye. Potters apparently lived long healthy productive lives or burnt out young in a blaze of glory. Draco had become quite upset when Harry had said there would be no prizes for guessing which kind of Potter he was then!

But Harry had laughed and Draco had smiled despite himself and said that he could never understand how Harry could find things to be joyful about in a place like this.

“It’s not that different from when I was a kid,” Harry’d said. “Sure the Dursley’s didn’t torture me with quite the same finesse as Tom’s little slime balls do, but the rest of it, no food, small dark places, nasty names. Been there, done that and Dudley has a tee-shirt to prove it that I’ll probably end up wearing one of these days!”

Draco’s heart ached when he thought of the little boy Harry had been locked away and treated so badly, and then he started to think of his own childhood, and then he remembered his parents and he got upset again, especially when he remembered that his mother used to call him “Petite Dragon.”
Because Dragon in French was the same as it was in English.

Then Harry had laughed at him said that he had never met anyone less like a dragon in his life than Draco was.

Draco bristled a bit at Harry’s laughter and said that he was a typical dragon if you followed Chinese star signs! He was proud and flamboyant and he admitted he could be a little arrogant at times. But Harry said he didn’t follow any star signs if he could help it because it reminded him a bit too much of Trelawney and her forecasts of death

“Were you born in the year of the dragon then Draco?” Harry had asked and Draco had rolled his eyes at Harry’s ignorance

“No, we were both born in the year of the Monkey.” Draco said seriously, He had been resting his head on the bars of Harry’s cage close to Harry’s own head and noticed that Harry had suddenly moved away, turning quickly Draco saw that Harry was about to explode into giggles

“Monkey?” He spluttered “MMMonkey. Oh God. Monkey. Draco Malfoy is a monkey,” Harry howled. He rolled about on the floor clutching his sides literally roaring with laughter, he laughed until he could make no more sound and was just emitting little squeaks of mirth. He laughed until tears rolled down his cheeks. And Draco was torn between annoyance that Harry should find him so funny, and delight that Harry should laugh so much! But later when all the laughter was over and Harry once more had his arms wrapped around Draco he looked deeply into his eyes and said.

“You’re not a dragon you know, whatever your mother said. Sure you’re beautiful, magnificent like a dragon is and you can be fierce and you’re loyal to those who belong to you but you’re more than that. When you move its like watching a poem… you are so graceful, so bright. If I hadn’t had you with me I think I might have given up. I wanted to get you out of here but there was nowhere to send you, nowhere safe, at least here I could protect you. Being in this place has been the worst time of my life but being with you is like heaven Draco.

“You have sunlight in your hair. Did you know that? And when you smile, God when you smile, it’s like I’m not here anymore but somewhere beautiful, somewhere filled with light. Do you know what you remind me of?”

Draco had been struck dumb, no one had ever said anything like this to him before and he simply could not answer instead he looked at Harry with large grey eyes and slowly, solemnly shook his head.

“You’re a dragonfly, that’s what you are.” Harry said triumphantly. “When you move, when you come to see me it’s like you are dancing in my heart. My special, beautiful, ephemeral, dragonfly!

Draco was moved to the bottom of his very soul. He had not even guessed that Harry knew words like ephemeral, never mind that he would use them in such a context, use them about him!

Tears sprung to his eyes as they had all too often lately, but these tears were because, no matter what happened to them in the future, whatever that future might be he knew that this funny, brave dark haired boy truly loved him, and was prepared to say things like that and not be embarrassed or ashamed. Harry’s words became Draco’s greatest treasure, one that he kept safe and secure and would think about very often in the dark years to come.

“Libellule” He whispered

“What?” said Harry “I missed that Draco, say it again.”

“Libellule, it is French for dragonfly.”

“Ah I see. Well that’s what I’ll have to call you from now on then won’t I? Ma petite Libellule.”

Then Harry said the words that to Draco became the most beautiful he had ever heard “Je t'aime Libellule.” Then tenderly, gently, Harry had placed a tender loving kiss on Draco’s pouting lips before pulling him into a close embrace.