Tattered Souls

AN: This is, by far, the shortest second half of a chapter yet. ^^ I was going to wait a bit to post it, add more, but I couldn’t stand to make you wait any longer for this installment.




‘You have had the satisfaction of raping the one person I ever truly loved…’

Darius sat down on his bed and put his face in hands. If there was one thing Potter was damn good at it was using his eyes to pierce souls. With a heavy sigh, he ran his fingers through his hair and looked up to the textured ceiling. “The one person he ever truly loved, eh?” They had history.

Chewing on the inside of his lip, he fought back a deep growl and stood up, swiping things from the dresser top and anything else in sight. Glass shattered onto the cold oak floor and picture frames cracked, deforming the images. “I can’t stand this!” he screamed, frustrated with the entire situation. Servants outside of the room jumped and scurried off in various directions to busy themselves elsewhere.

“That little ponce is in Harry’s head and there is no way to get rid of him now. I’ve bloody well made sure of that.” Sighing with frustration, he began to pace the room, his footsteps further crunching glass and all other object scattered about. He had never truly meant to rape the blond. In fact, he had it set in his mind that the other would just roll over and take it like the little slut he had become. “The only way I’m going to get my Harry back is to get rid of this new distraction…”


---


Harry began walking down the stairs from his third floor flat carrying a large black duffle bag, prepared for what he felt he needed to do. Draco must have thought that by playing innocent and using the camera as a tool to capture Darius that he would be off the hook. Despite the fact that the raven haired man knew that it was not the other’s intention to be raped, he couldn’t help but feel hurt and confused. To Harry, that meant showing absolute control.

Pressing the small white button to the intercom into Draco’s room, Harry said, “Please secure your blindfold.” While watching the former Slytherin go from what seemed to be utter confusion to surprise, he couldn’t help but feel the urge to run away, forget everything, and give up the game. “No!” he told himself, tightening his grip on the rough handles of the bag.

Malfoy had been deep in thought when the voice had penetrated his mind, causing him to jump slightly. It wasn’t the usual sweet female voice that always seemed reassuring and motherly. This time it had sounded like William himself. Why would he have personally requested him to put on the blindfold? He had always used someone else to do it before. He reached for the fabric on the other end of the bed and reseated himself, shaking slightly. He was afraid of what was to come. The cloth seemed much more restrictive as it blocked out his second most favourite sense.

He waited for Draco to drop his hands into his lap before wrapping his fingers around the doorknob. With a deep breath, he opened the door and locked it behind him, having turned off the monitors to keep the servants from getting nosey; he didn’t want an unwelcome intruder. “Strip,” he commanded, taking the bag to a chair that sat beside the bed. When he noticed the other was a bit to taken aback to obey he added, a bit more aggressively, “Now!”

Jumping slightly, the blond snapped to his senses and realized that this meeting was not good. Slowly but steadily, he began to strip off his clothing, making a neat pile on the floor despite his inability to see it. While he undressed, he could hear the sound of a zipper, far to long to be the sound of a pair of jeans unzipping. Shaking and nude, he sat back down on the bed. The room was much colder than he remembered it to be.

The green eyed male pulled out a relatively thin yet strong rope and commanded that Draco lay down on the bed. Looping the rope so that it would only tighten if the other struggled, he bound his hands and feet to the bed. He knew that it could be dangerous, but the rope was charmed to only get so tight, even if it felt like it was cutting through skin. Thankfully, the protective charms and spells around the room only prevented magic from being done in the room, not charms and spells done outside to be rendered useless within. The blond gave an experimental tug at his right arm and felt the rope begin to dig into his skin. It was coarse and he was sure he would be bleeding by the end of the night.

Draco couldn’t help but wonder what he had done to deserve something so drastic. Even the incident with Darius was not enough to warrant something so extreme. The fact stood that William had not even bedded the male before, and although he was no stranger to bondage and kinks, he was terrified that his first experience with William would be a punishment. It would make it harder on him emotionally, seeing as this would not be his only time with the other. He was property now.

Returning to the bag, Harry began to rummage through its contents. There were so many things he wanted to do to the beautiful body tied to the bed, but he didn’t know where to start. The blond shifted uncomfortably on the bed, a sign that he was feeling alone and vulnerable. As far as he knew, William could have abandoned him here, naked and immobile. After plugging in a small wax bowl, Harry turned his attentions to Draco. Climbing onto the bed and over the other so that he was straddling his waist, he began to lightly trail his fingers across the pale abdomen.

“You’ve been such a bad toy,” he hissed as he felt the flesh pull away from his touch before arching into it. “You’ve been used and broken, haven’t you?” he asked softly, glancing up at the bowl that was beginning to fill the room with a gentle floral aroma. He could tell that Draco was trying his hardest not to respond verbally or physically. He had been through this before, had he?

The aroma tickled the Slytherin’s senses as he tried to remain calm. Perhaps he had only been over reacting to the severity of the entire situation. Suddenly, William shifted above him and he felt most of the weight leave his body. He almost sighed of relief as he moved ever slightly to regain his comfort before the weight returned. There were what felt like hours of anticipation but could only have been minutes before something almost searing hot was dripping onto his chest.

Draco’s back arched as he let out a startled and painful yelp. “That’s a good little mutt,” Harry said, dipping the small wooden stick back into the bowl and then allowing the hot wax to drip and burn the skin of the male below him. “Just keep quiet and everything will go away.” Using the stick to spread the wax across the reddened skin, he blew ever so lightly along the drying wax trails. The mix of hot and cold caused a shiver to travel down the blonde’s spine and straight into his groin.

A pained inward hiss escaped Malfoy as Harry begin to remove the wax with his teeth and tongue. At first there was a piercing pinch as the edge of the wax was pulled upward with a set of teeth and then a soothing yet stinging feeling as a tongue darted out and eased the rest of the substance away. Each sensation was almost unbearable, and yet left Draco feeling empty when Harry had climbed off him to put away the bowl and find a new utensil to play with.

Sharp points that felt like a common hand cultivator for the garden pierced into Draco’s pale skin as Harry pulled backward, causing red lines to form across the perfect skin. The pressure was light enough that it didn’t draw blood, but the blond was sure that his skin was breaking beneath the tool. At first, he was sure that this was just a kinky fetish that William had failed to warn him about, not that he owed any warnings at all, but the truth of the matter turned dark as he felt his blood trickle across his stomach and pool in his bellybutton before spilling off his side. The male was just short of screaming as the painful ministrations continued across his chest.

Harry took great care at first to make everything as sexual as possible, but as he continued with small tool, he found himself enjoying the sadistic side of himself far too much. It was becoming a fight for the body lying on the bed. He wanted it to belong to him and only him. The thought that a soul such as the former Slytherin’s was tainting this perfect body was nearly too much for him to handle as he continue to mar the skin. “I will make the vessel match it’s…” he said under his breath, discarding the tool and running his fingers over the gashes.

Malfoy was scared now, having sensed the change in William. All touches had turned from almost loving to viciously malignant. He would have given everything he ever owned to be with Harry right now, curled up under the blankets that the Room of Requirement that he knew oh so well that they would need. He wanted to be bathing in the sunlight with his lover in his arms and his fingers entangled in that permanently messy mop of hair.

It was then that he heard the crack of a whip. Wincing away, he allowed the tears he hadn’t realized he was holding in, flow freely. Struggling against the restraints that felt deadly tight now, he tried to get away from what was to come. “No, please,” he pleaded, turning his head as if he was looking away from his assailant. The whip came crashing down and smarted his skin, leaving a large red whelp across his chest. Twice more this continued in what felt like the same spot before he called out for the one person he thought could save him. “Harry!”

The whip cracked again and started making patterns across the horribly reddened skin. ‘You don’t have the right to use that name anymore!’ Harry thought to himself, maddened with the intensity of the moment. His movements quickened and the speed of the device increased as he continued to beat the writhing figure. “Re…” he heard, somewhere in the back of his mind, causing him to stop and take a breath. ‘Re?’ he repeated in his thoughts, focusing his eyes on Draco.

“Shit!” he yelled, throwing the whip aside and releasing the other from the bed. Somewhere in his dazed state, he had forgotten that there was a living breathing person tied to the bed, and that that person had physical limits. The sound had been the blond trying to give a safe word, something to make it all stop. His fleeting health only helped increase Harry’s worried state as he hurried into the bathroom and ran the tap in the large tub. Stripping down, he went back into the bedroom and carefully scooped up the male. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered against the silver blond hair as he pulled him in as close as possible. “I’m so sorry.”

Emerald eyes darted around the room as he attempted to find the first aid kit. All he successfully found was a rag and a large array of scented bath salts and body washes. Deciding that the washes might prove to be more detrimental than helpful, he settled on a rag and a mild bar of soap. Slipping into the tub with Draco in his arms was nothing short of a miraculous feat. As he eased into the hot water, he let the other slid between his legs so the nearly perfect back was pressed against his chest. He reached over to turn off the tap and took a deep breath.

Slowly and as gently as possible, he began to scrub away the dried blood and clean the wounds. As he began to gently remove the dried tears from the other’s face, he felt his own warm tear roll down his face. He loved this male so much and yet he couldn’t bring himself to have the happy ending he knew he could have. Draco obviously still had feelings for him, but so much had changed since the end of the war. There were so many scars left on his psyche.

Half of the former Gryffindor wanted the male to stir, look up at him, straight through the dampened cloth, and forgive him for everything. He wanted to be forgiven for lying to him, for betraying him, for beating him, but most of all he wanted to be forgiven for abandoning him the day he sent him into this hell. With a heavy sigh and the resolution that Draco was going to be asleep for some time, he continued on to dress him and lay him in the bed that he found quite difficult to clean. How he managed to completely strip the bed and add fresh sheets was a true mystery, but it had been done and now the blond was tucked in nicely, as well as bandaged. With each bandage a kiss was laid, and with each kiss, a tear was spilled.


--- The Last Straw, Sixth Year

Harry was curled up on his cot at the burrow, staring into the beautiful crimson folds of the curtains that shrouded the window. The dried tears were all that was left of emotion as he sat up, allowing his eyes to meet Ron’s. “He was supposed to kill Dumbledore. He wanted to kill him.” His voice was dry and void of any emotions. Ron could only nod as his friend suffered what must have been a mental break down. “He used the Room of Requirement to do it.” Blinking the dried tears from his eyelashes, he returned his gaze to the curtains.

“I will never forgive him”