Fucking Potter

Author’s Note: All items in bold are direct quotes of dialog take from the book, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Chapter Twenty-Three, “Malfoy Manor” by J. K. Rowling. Additionally, Bernie Taupin and Elton John wrote the song lyrics, “Someone Saved My Life Tonight”.

Thanks to thrnbrooke, paigeey07, and my wonderful friend, MystressXOXO for your encouraging reviews.

A/N 2: Who would have thought a minor plot bunny that started by looking at a picture would turn into a four-chapter story with an epilogue? (At least that’s where it’s now headed toward.) Not me.

When I think of those east end lights, muggy nights
The curtains drawn in the little room downstairs
Prima Donna lord, you really should have been there
Sitting like a princess perched in her electric chair
And its one more beer and I don’t hear you anymore
We’ve all gone crazy lately
My friends out there rolling round the basement floor.

Fucking Potter.

“You have to remember this, Draco, almost everyone will die. Since, your elaborate failure calls for an elaborate example. I’ll just make a game out of it.” As if to emphasize his point, the Dark Lord twirled his wand gracefully in his left hand then transferring it to his right hand right before he pointed it at me. “ Crucio!”

The pain that went through me was unlike anything I had ever experienced before. I felt as if all of my organs were being squeezed to the point of imploding. As if every thought of torture I’ve ever envisioned upon others were now being acted out on me. My lungs burned on fire, yet I had to scream and scream, begging for help…Mother…Father… anybody.

My blood was starting to thicken and slow, despite my heart pumping faster and faster. I couldn’t breath, but the pain – the pain was never ending. I felt my heart slowing, and I was suddenly calm, almost euphoric. Death isn’t so bad, I thought; in fact, it’s even welcomed. Yes, maybe at last I’ll see his face smiling, smiling at me. A hand reaches out and I lean in to take it – so close.

Then I bolted upright, gasping trying to take in as much oxygen as possible, while my hand clutches my chest. The burn in my lungs subsiding as I take in precious fresh air. Bewildered and frightened I look around the room, my bedroom, is dark save for the moonlight coming in from the balcony doors. It is night and I am alone in my room. There are voices coming from the hallway growing louder and harsher. The sounds go from murmurs to discernible voices.

What happened before, I realize was a dream, a nightmare – no, a memory that has wormed it’s way once again into my dreamless sleep. I need to ask Father if I can put it in his Pensieve so that it will cease to haunt me.

But now, the voices outside are stronger, louder, distinct, and recognizable. “We must wake him, Narcissa, this may be our only chance. He has to be down there when they bring the Potter boy in. Draco has to be the one to identify him. Our futures rest on this.”

The doorknob starts to rattle open and I immediately throw my head back on the pillow to feign sleep.

And someone saved my life tonight, sugar bear
You almost had your hooks in me, didn’t you dear?
You nearly had me roped and tied
Altar-bound, hypnotized
Sweet freedom whispered in my ear
You’re a butterfly
And butterflies are free to fly
Fly away, high away, bye-bye.

Hastily dressed, I am being forced to lead us to the drawing room. Father keeps coming up and talking to me. “It’s going to be up to you, Draco. When we find Potter, I want you to be the one to hand him to the Dark Lord. I want you to receive the blessing that only our lord can bestow.”

Mother keeps pulling me off to the side as well and telling me that it’s best to keep my head down and not to cause trouble or be noticed too much. She thinks it’s for the best if we just keep to ourselves and try to ride this war out as quietly as possible. “If we manage to capture Harry Potter, that’s fine,” she says, “but I don’t want any unnecessary heroics out of you. I only have one child and I’ll do anything to protect you.”

Father hisses at her, “Cissa, that is enough! Be a good hostess, now, and greet our guests. They were at the gate when they announced their arrival. See them to the drawing room, please.” And with that Mother turns and marched quickly down the hall ahead of us.

“You can do this, Draco,” Father encourages me. “My hope lies with you, Son. But you should also know that it was Greyback who is bringing him here. He is a vile creature, but we must work with such oddities, for now until more order can be established.”

At that name, I can feel the cold sweat begin to form and run down my back. The werewolf has always terrified me. In my childhood, whenever he came to the house to beg Father for work or money, I would hide in the darkest corner until he was gone. Even now, I can’t understand why we must feel bound to help such vermin. In actuality, they are worse than Mudbloods and should be extinguished first.

I never realized the passing hours of evening showers
A slip noose hanging in my darkest dreams
I’m strangled by your haunted social scene
Just a pawn out-played by a dominating queen
It’s four o’clock in the morning
Damn it, listen to me good
I’m sleeping with myself tonight
Saved in time, thank God my music’s still alive.

Father and I enter the drawing room and he motions me to sit at one of the chairs near the blazing warm hearth. Together we make a picturesque scene for an ideal father and son moment. The façade of a situation is as important as the reality. Isn’t it?

Outside the door leading to the entryway, I can hear a commotion and then, suddenly, a cacophony of voices bursts through the once silent room. Mother is leading them in with Greyback snapping on her heels. Behind him are bound together a goblin and four former Hogwarts’ students – all foolish Gryffindors – Thomas, Granger, Weasley, and Potter. He looks like he hasn’t bathed in a month and was hit with a nasty Stinging Jinx to boot. Regardless, I’d know him anywhere. I glance to Father for guidance, but I can see that’s he’s already on his feet, walking toward them.

“What is this?” He drawls trying to sound bored or irate.

This is it, I realize. A time has come for a reckoning, but whose?

I can hear my heart rising into my throat, pounding, fighting it’s way out of my chest. More than anything, I want to slink further into the chair and let this nightmare pass. Mother, though, is calling me now.

“Draco, come here.”

Instinctively, I go to her, while still trying to keep as far away from the werewolf as possible, the fear in me is rising. Is tonight a full moon? I can fee bile rising to the back of my throat.

“Well, boy?” rasped the werewolf.

There is no delaying it now and I take one step toward Potter. The look on Father’s face tells me everything, his eagerness, his anticipation. He wants this to be Potter and he begs my acknowledgement.

“Well, Draco?” he says, “Is it? Is it Harry Potter?”

The searing pain in my heart is all but killing me. Even if he was otherwise disguised, I would know this is Potter. He smells like he always does, of Quidditch leathers, pine, and musk. His body is lithe yet muscular. He seems to radiate power, rank, and virtue and it’s as alluring as sin. I am drawn like a moth to a flame to him. What the fuck is wrong with me? What does it mean?

“I can’t – I can’t be sure,” I mumble. Was I saying that to the others or myself?

I want to run away and hide. I want to leave this all behind and not think about any of it, especially Potter. Things seemed so clear a year or two ago, before The Failure, before the Dark Mark. I hated Potter, despised him, and loathed him with a passion. And now? What could have changed?

They are talking, but I haven’t been paying attention. I heard my name but I don’t know what they said. Fuck, I have to snap out of this fog.

Father is grabbing my arm now, pulling me to Potter.

“Draco, come here, look properly! What do you think?”

Now, I am thrust inches away from Potter’s face. This is all proving to be too much for me. Fuck! I am so close to his face – so close! I can smell him, no longer smelling like a boy, but like a man. It’s intoxicating and I’m drunk from his scent. So, close. I wouldn’t even need to reach out to touch him. I could just extend my tongue to taste his flesh. Fuck! Why do I want to taste him? Why do I want to thrust into him? Why do I want to feel him from the inside? This is a time of reckoning for Potter. Why am I so confused?

“I don’t know,” I tell Father then I pull away from them, widening the space between Potter and myself, moving to Mother. I look to her and try to convey my reluctance, confusion, and yes, even my humiliation at this moment. I need time alone to understand why my heart is pounding and my loins were tightening being next to Potter. I must control myself until I can get away, back to the solace of my bedroom, my prison cell. They are talking again and I must school my features. It’s Mother and she seems almost panicked.

…. “Look, Draco, isn’t it the Granger girl?” I briefly glance up and see they have moved Potter away and brought the Mudblood to the forefront.

“I … maybe … yeah.” My mouth is dry as I utter the mild confession. If I admit this is Granger, what’s to keep them from putting it all together? They may be adults, but they’re not complete idiots!

I turn and face the fireplace. My nerves feel as if they have been stretched tight to the point of breaking and I can’t hold my composure. This may be the last time I see Potter alive and I can’t keep it together.

Father is shouting at me. I have to focus.

“—Draco, look at him, isn’t it Arthur Weasley’s son, what’s his name –?”

I’m sorry, Father. I want to say. There will be no blessings for us tonight.

“Yeah,” I can’t do this, I am too weak. “It could be.”

The other door to the drawing room opens and I hear her voice. Holy Fuck! Auntie Bella has come into the room. Now, we will all be righteously dry fucked up the arse.

I bring my hands up and grip the mantle. I am beginning a full-blown panic! I’m starting to gasp for breath, but no one notices, not even Mother. There’s yelling and hexes being thrown about, no doubt by Mother’s psychotic sister.

“Draco, move this scum outside,” Auntie Bella orders me. Great, now I’m a house-elf in my own home. I can see what blood purity is worth these days. “If you haven’t got the guts to finish them, then leave them in the courtyard for me.”

There are days when I fucking hate my family, but if I want to live I need to keep my mouth shut.

As I levitate the unconscious men out of the room, Father gives me a look that indicates I must return. I guess he doesn’t like to be left in a room with dear Auntie Bella either. Oh well, the more the merrier.

When I return I am not even surprised to see Granger on the ground being tortured by Auntie Bella. Where are the others? They must have been taken away. Goddamn Bella and her screechy voice! If she weren’t so dramatic I could clearly understand her.

Aah, it seems as if Potter was led away to the cellar.

I don’t want them to call the Dark Lord. He’ll be able to identify Potter as easily as I have and then… and then? God Damn it! Potter has to live, that’s all there is to it. His life seems worth more to me than I could have possibly ever imagined. I yearn for his presence. I desire it. I long for it. I just don’t want to admit what it seems to reveal about myself.

Some part of me wants to laugh at my inner turmoil. A black thought goes through my mind as I realize I am having an identity crisis on the verge of a nervous breakdown and no one pays it any heed. Maybe I’m not the only one. Mother? Father? Perhaps.

And someone saved my life tonight, sugar bear
You almost had your hooks in me, didn’t you dear?
You nearly had me roped and tied
Altar-bound, hypnotized
Sweet freedom whispered in my ear
You’re a butterfly
And butterflies are free to fly
Fly away, high away, bye-bye.

As soon as I enter the room, my initial suspicions are correct. I am a house-elf.

“Draco, fetch the goblin, he can tell us whether the sword is real or not!”

I turn on my heels and head to the cellar secretly glad to be out of any room where someone is being tortured.

I wonder now, how Father could tell me those stories of how wonderful it was to be in service to the Dark Lord? How did he make everyone seem so much more than they really were? It seems that your position rests solely on the Dark Lord’s good graces and even then only when he’s in the mood. Otherwise, it is nothing but paranoia, madness, and agony.

As I stand outside the door, I know what I have to do. I may not be the executioner, but I have to play my part nonetheless. It is time to march the goblin to his death and I don’t even try to hold on to any type of bravado.

“Stand back. Line up against the back wall. Don’t try anything, or I’ll kill you!” I say right before I unlock the door. I grab him and walk him back to he drawing room. Right before we enter the room, I thought I heard Weasley scream something, but when I make us both stop, there is nothing but silence from below. Maybe I’m losing my mind after all?

We enter the room and now both Granger and the goblin are being interrogated. I want to slide over into the furthest corner of the room and ignore what is going on, but Father holds me with a glare forcing me to be part of a circle watching the two in the middle cower in fear.

Crack

With that one noise, the room became eerily quiet. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear someone had Apparated out of the cellar. Bella orders the rat to find out. Yes, better him than me, at least he looks like a house-elf.

After more torture, Auntie Bella calls our master. It is almost over now. The end is near – what that is, I’m not certain. Maybe it’s my last chance at sanity or humanity. Whatever.

Suddenly, there is screaming and Weasley and Potter are in the room. Potter Stupefies Father and I draw my wand to counter him. I may no longer want him dead but that does not justify his attack on my family!

Bella orders me to retrieve their now dropped wands as we begin to wait for it.

Death comes for Harry Potter.

And I would have walked head on into the deep end of the river
Clinging to your stocks and bonds
Paying your H. P. demands forever
Coming in the morning with a truck to take me home
Someone saved my life tonight, someone saved my life tonight
Someone saved my life tonight, someone saved my life tonight
Someone saved my life tonight
So save your strength and run the field you play alone.

“Are you trying to tell me that less than ten minutes ago, Harry Potter stood in this exact same spot? That he was unarmed and you let him get away?” My Lord states calmly and coolly.

He is angry and that is never a good thing. We are all there, cowering, lying prostrate on the floor where he has placed us. There is a hum of power radiating from him that leaves me breathless in terror.

The Dark Lord is vastly superior to everyone around him. I understand that now, which is why he leads and we follow. He is disappointed enough with us, with me, that he doesn’t need another reminder of my failures while he searches my mind scavenging for information about Potter.

Somehow, I’ve failed again and shamed my family further. I didn’t think that was possible. I am fucked.

“I shall search each one of your minds to find out exactly what happened. Then when I feel you have shown me everything, you will be punished accordingly. I think that seems more than fair considering that you called me away from a most important task.

“Let us start with you, Lucius. As master of the house, maybe you can explain why you let Harry Potter slip through your fingers.”

And someone saved my life tonight, sugar bear
You almost had your hooks in me, didn’t you dear?
You nearly had me roped and tied
Altar-bound, hypnotized
Sweet freedom whispered in my ear
You’re a butterfly
And butterflies are free to fly
Fly away, high away, bye-bye.

”Crucio!”

The pain seizes me completely as I convulse on the floor. I realize in a moment of brief lucidity that the pain is worse than even my nightmares remember. I have some how unconsciously softened it from the reality I now endure.

I feel myself retching as my stomach contracts again and again while my limbs feel as if the fibrous tissue is being pulled off my bones one strand at a time, the sinews stretching to the point of snapping.

Then the pain stops and I collapse on the floor like a wet rag discarded, abandoned. Eventually, I pull myself up to hands and knees as I begin to regain control of my breath, control of my senses. Then as soon as I feel a moment of honest mental clarity, the pain begins again and I am seized in the grips of agony.

I can hear his laughter now, the Dark Lord’s triumph over such an old and distinguished pureblood family. His voice is a high whine, trying to sound like a cackle, but I know the truth behind his burst of amusement. It is a cover over the silence as I am tortured. For this time it is different, and I do not scream out from the inflicted pain in which I am forced to suffer. This time, I will endure in silence, for I know one thing is different.

Yes, my Lord, we must all die, but tonight, it will not be Harry Potter. This is the something – the hope – that I cling to which infuriates him. This is why he laughs, to cover the change that has happened between us. This is the real reason he punishes me.

Yet, I wonder, as I am writhing in affliction, if Potter will realize the trials even lowly Death Eaters must suffer so that Saviors can live?

Fucking Potter.