Picking Up the Pieces

I woke early the next morning, the sun’s heated rays shining down on me through my bedroom window. I rolled over and reluctantly unswathed myself from the tangle of blankets at my feet. But I didn't get up, I continued to lay there lazily, my hands propped behind my head.

I closed my eyes and replayed the previous day's encounter with Davis in my head. He had been far easier to manipulate than I had ever dreamed. I had expected him to refuse me, to fight me every step of the way and force me to dig deeply into my bag of tricks until I found a method of seduction he couldn't resist.

But instead, he folded easily, like a house of cards. A little petting, a little sweet talking and he was putty in my hands, just as everyone before him was. He, too, genuflected before me and worshipped at the altar of Harry Potter. He attacked my cock, ravenous and eager, like it was his most prized possession, and then gluttonously swallowed every last drop of me as if it was his first meal in weeks. He worshipped my dick in the way it deserved to be worshipped.

How could I have been denying myself that feeling of power for so long? The control I felt as someone groveled before me was so sensational and so addictive. I needed it, I craved more of that feeling. And now that I had another taste of it, I wasn't about to let it go.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When I finally dragged myself out of bed, I got ready and made my way downstairs for breakfast. Another oh-so-delicious scent, this time of grease and cinnamon, emanated from the kitchen. It was so thick and cloying my stomach was doing somersault after nauseated somersault. I quickly grabbed a bowl of cereal and all but ran out in hopes of escaping the smell.

I settled into a table at the far corner of the dining room and chanced taking one shallow breath through my nose. The stench had mostly dissipated, so I allowed myself to breath normally again, and turned my attention to the food in front of me. I kept my eyes down as I ate, no longer in an attempt to be invisible, but to close myself off so I could think, uninterrupted.

Who would be the next parishioner in my congregation of lechery? Should I go for Davis again? Should I go for a sure thing like Emerson? Or should I opt for someone that presented more of a challenge? After all, the chase was part of the fun.

One would think my options in such a place would be very limited; that I would first have to find someone that was actually gay and if I managed to do that, hope that they were willing have it off with me as well, leaving me with maybe one or two people to choose from. But the truth was, I found that even the most heterosexual of wizards wanted a romp with Harry Potter. In fact, in my heyday it seemed that most of the wizards I fucked were "happily" married to loving, doting wives.

And with a majority of the male population willing to go gay for me, and the entire population of this facility being in a fragile and vulnerable state, I was sure that most of them would crack for me under the littlest amount of pressure. As far as I could see, it was hard enough for a person of sound mind to resist my charm; inveigling someone that was already unbalanced would be like taking candy from a baby. I just needed to decide who that next target would be.

I took another bite of cereal and continued weighing my options. There were so many things to consider: the willingness of my candidate, the ease of getting them alone, their presumed experience. Or maybe I was thinking about it too much. Maybe I should just play the part of the fun, caring friend. Offer them my shoulder to cry on and see who comes running to stain my shirt with tears first. That might be the best approach...

Screeecchhh....My exultant train of thought was interrupted by the scrape of metal against hard linoleum. Someone pulled out the chair across from me, sat down without a word, and slowly began drumming their fingers on the table. I kept my eyes lowered, refusing to acknowledge the ass that thought it was a good idea to disrupt me.

I attempted to focus again but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't. My unwelcome visitor's incessant tapping reverberated through my skull, drowning out every spark of cogitation like water on flames. Thdum, thdum, thdum, dum, dum. It grated and gnawed away at my nerves. Thdum, thdum, thdum, dum, dum.

"Can I fucking help you?!!" I seethed. I looked up, my eyes locking with steely grey ones.

"Jesus Potter," Malfoy spat. "Freak out much?"

"What the hell do youwant Malfoy?"

"Still not happy with me I see," he said as he schooled his face into a calm, contemptuous mask. "Still a little angry that I sat in your seat at group, maybe?"

"Piss off, Malfoy," I warned.

"What?" He leaned back in his chair, hands folded on his chest. "I'm not judging you. Some of us deal with our feelings in civilized ways, while others choose to cry out for attention....like by cutting themselves with dilapidated desks, for instance. I mean, I only sat in your chair at group because I was trying to help you."

The heat I was now so familiar with started to course throughout my body, tincturing my skin a flushed pink. I couldn't deal with Malfoy's shit. I had to get out of there. I pushed myself away from the table and turned to leave, but firm hands gripped my shoulders, spun me around and pushed me back into the chair.

"Hang on a second, Potter." Malfoy leaned across the table and lowered his voice. "I didn't sit here to try to piss you off."

"Really? Because that's exactly what you're doing."

"No, just listen a second. I have spent the first several days here checking everyone out, taking everything in. And I have come to the conclusion that the only one here worthy of being my ally, unfortunately, is you. I mean, this place is so below us. We don't belong here with these buffoons."

"These buffoons are my friends--something that you'll never be, so I don't know what you're playing at."

"I didn't say we had to be friends, Potter," he scoffed, "just allies. I'm sure you want out of here just as badly as I do and I think if we put our heads together and combine our magic," he leaned in further and lowered his voice to a whisper. "We could bust out of this place."

"You're kidding, right?"

"No, I'm dead serious. Have you looked at me, Potter? A person as good-looking as myself cannot survive in these conditions. I have certain...standards. I need out of here, and soon...So just think about it."

"Not likely."

"We'll see. You'll come around," he said confidently as he got up and strode out of the room.

Draco Malfoy wanted to be allies with me? He must have been desperate as hell to get out if he was willing to recruit me, of all people, for help. But why was he so desperate? What was going on with him? Why was he even in the loony bin to begin with? Certainly a Malfoy wouldn't willingly come to such a place. And judging by how desperate he was to get out, I was fairly certain someone other than his family had forced him to check in. So what was going on? I had to know.

I quickly got up and peered around the corner to see which direction he went. He was heading down the main hall towards Davis' office. Individual therapy maybe? I crept a little closer and ducked into a small alcove in the hallway.

Malfoy walked a few more feet before stopping at Davis' door. He knocked loudly, waited a moment, and then entered, closing the door tightly behind him. I dashed down the hall and put my ear to the door....nothing. I should have known better. The second you enter individual therapy, the healer casts silencing charms to ensure no one could eavesdrop, but I had just the way to get around it.

I ran as quickly as I could back upstairs towards my room, taking two steps at a time. When I reached my room, I burst through the door and began digging through the trunk at the foot of my bed. After emptying nearly it's entire contents onto the floor, I finally found the small, leather pouch I was looking for. I tucked it into my pocket and began my sprint back down to Davis' office, my lungs burning with each labored inhalation.

Once I reached Davis' hallway I slowed down, allowing myself to catch my breath. I crept towards the doctor's door and pulled the pouch back out of my pocket. After loosening it's strings, I fished around inside it until I felt my fingers close around a thin, flossy thread--George's new and improved Invisible Extendable Ear--guaranteed to hear through any shields or wards, or your money back!

I uncoiled the fishing-wire-like string, placing one end in my ear and feeding the other end under Davis' door. It was like someone had suddenly turned up the volume. I could hear Davis and Draco just as clearly as I could if we were all in the same room.

"Draco," the doctor pleaded. "If I am going to help you, you are going to have to trust me. Can we please just talk a little about the circumstances that lead up to you being placed here?"

"I'd rather not," Draco replied, his voice quiet and monotone.

"Obviously I know a little bit about it. And I understand how traumatic the whole thing must have been for you Draco, but you're never going to heal until you talk about what happened. Now tell me, what was your caretaker's name?"

"Fuck off," Draco stated matter-of-factly.

"Dolores, was it? And how did you end up in her care, Draco?"

"Fuck off," he replied again, his volume raising slightly.

"Okay Draco," the doctor sighed. "I have tried doing this the civil way for over a week now. But it looks like you're going to require a little more coercion."

I heard footsteps, cupboards opening, bottles clanking together.

"Veritaserum? Are your serious?" Draco scoffed.

"It's the only way to get you talking apparently." More scuffling noises filled my ear, followed by the unmistakable sound of a spell being fired off. A little shuffling and clanking later, and it sounded like Davis had once again taken his seat. He paused a few moments, presumably waiting for the potion to kick in.

"Okay, now let's try this again," the doctor started. "How did your family become acquainted with Dolores?"

"When my father used to frequent the Ministry he met her. She wasn't a Death Eater but she had similar ideals, so he struck up a quote-unquote friendship with her. She also worked at Hogwarts for a short time. I was on her Inquisitorial Squad."

"Good, that's not so bad, is it?" The doctor didn't wait for an answer. "Now tell me, how did you end up in her care?"

"Death Eaters murdered my parents," he replied, his voice quivering slightly. "And their will stated that I could not take control of their estate and assets until I reached the age of eighteen."

"And?"

"And," he breathed. "Unbeknownst to me, it also stated that I was to have a caretaker until I reached that age. They decided she would be ideal as she had ties to the Ministry and could presumably keep me safe from any Death Eater witch hunts."

"Now tell me Draco, how was it being in Dolores' care?"

"Terrible," he replied.

"Why?"

There was no response. At first I thought that my extendable ear had stopped working--the room had gone completely silent.

But suddenly someone started to choke. Coughing and gurgling noises filled my ear, sending a wave of panic through me. Were they fighting? Was someone in trouble? Should I go for help? Desperate gasping and sputtering continued to radiate loudly. I needed to get someone, and fast. But just as I was ready to take off running, Davis spoke again.

"Draco, you can try to fight the Veritaserum all you want. But you're hurting yourself for no reason. It will make you talk eventually. Now again, tell me why being in Dolores' care was, as you said, terrible."

"BECAUSE SHE BOUND ME MAGICALLY IN HER BASEMENT," Malfoy screamed.

"And why did she do that?"

Malfoy began to cough wildly again. "TO MAKE SURE... I DIDN'T GO ANYWHERE," he choked.

"And why would she do that," the doctor prodded. "What did she do to you?"

"She," Malfoy started gasping for air again. He spat and gurgled and hacked until he finally broke down crying. "She fucked me," he whispered between sobs. "The sick, twisted fucking bitch kept me chained up, used a stiffening charm on me and fucked me. Are you happy now?"

"Harry," a voice coming up the hall startled me. I turned to see Wadsworth behind me. "What are you doing?"

"Uh, I...am...waiting to talk to Davis," I lied. I inconspicuously coiled up the extendable ear and tucked it back into my pocket. "It's been taking a while though, I think I am going to come back later."

I quickly scrambled to my feet and meandered toward the stairs, without another look back.