Madame Scarlet's

Author's Note: Many thanks to my beta, Laurel who I have entirely overwhelmed with my frequent updates. Now that I've injured all of your minds with Snape/Harry/Draco smut, I'll get back to the plot.

Chapter 5 Broken

A bell rang sharply throughout Madame Scarlet’s bringing the lobby mistress to the door. “Hello Sir,” she chimed as she opened the door wider to allow him entrance. “May I help you in any way?” Her voice had dropped in octave as she pulled the wiry gentleman out of the cold London air and into a side parlor. She was careful to lean over him when she offered him a seat in order to give him a prime view of her ample bosom.

“I’m here for your services,” he replied gruffly.

“And the password?” she asked daintily.

“Master Slytherin’s House,” he offered and she smiled brightly in response.

“Is this your first time visiting Madame Scarlet’s or do you have a favorite?” she inquired, sitting on his lap and grinding ever so slightly against his groin.

“I usually see Abigail,” he replied with a stifled groan from her movements.

“Oh, what a shame. Abby is otherwise engaged at the moment, but I can bring you a sampling of our other girls,” she told him, holding out what looked to be a thin playing card she had pulled from her pocket. She flipped the card over and over and each time a new face appeared on each side, alternating between fit young men and savory young women.

“That one looks promising,” he mused and she noted the name and face of the girl he had chosen, but when she continued to flip the card he pointed out two others as well.

“Should I bring them up for you to see in person?” she offered.

He nodded sharply, the edges of his mustache forming a slight grin.

“I’ll be right back then,” she cooed and with one last shift of her hips, the girl bounced from his lap and into the other room. None of the employees were permitted access to the concubine lounge without the assistance of one of the owners. Lucius was almost always there, even though the dark-haired man only visited occasionally, so she headed upstairs to the main office and knocked firmly.

“Come in,” boomed the arrogant tone of her boss and she pushed the door open and stepped inside. She hadn’t been inside the office for any length of time and she always noticed something new each time she had need to fetch Lucius. This time her eyes caught a golden framed portrait of a beautiful woman with pale blonde hair and a tight joyless smile.

“Is this your sister?” she remarked, easily seeing a resemblance.

“That, Patricia is my wife,” he replied with a sneer and she paled slightly. Before she could begin to apologize however, he gestured for her to shut her mouth. “I assume you have another purpose to be in my office aside from taking it upon yourself to examine my personal belongings,” he spat.

She nodded quickly. “Yes Sir. There is a gentleman downstairs who would like to inspect three of our ladies because Abby is otherwise… indisposed.”

He let his head fall back in mild annoyance and made a gesture that Patricia didn’t quite understand until a full head of chestnut hair emerged from beneath Lucius’ desk. “We’ll resume this later, Ludwig. Clients needs before my own.”

Ludwig bowed and wiped at the corner of his mouth before taking his leave. Patricia felt she should have been used to seeing nude men wander around the place but it always caught her breath a bit.

“Stop drooling girl and tell me who he’s chosen,” Lucius barked. She immediately paled and showed him the three women the client had chosen. “Very good, that will be all then. See to it our guest has a drink and keep him company while I fetch our ladies.”

She left swiftly before he had the opportunity to ask anything more of her. She knew from experience that Lucius didn’t require sexual favors from any of the non-magical women, but occasionally he would take his anger out on them. She had been presumptuous with her questions and wanted to steer clear of any punishment.

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At the bottom of the stairs Lucius doubled back to a little side hall that seemingly led nowhere. In the dark recesses of the narrow corridor there was an iron wall with several locks on one side, seven locks to be precise. Lucius took a heavy keychain from his robe pocket and started with the topmost lock, turning it to the right and hearing the telltale click that urged him to move on to the next in sequence. He continued this, opening each lock with a different key, until every latch was opened and then he pushed the massive iron door aside where it slid into the wall and virtually disappeared.

There were two steep staircases leading down into the basement –or the concubine lounge for which it was often called. At the bottom of these stairs was a wall made of windows and a single glass door set inside of it with another set of locks securing it; this time twelve. It was a bit of a pain to go through this process every single time he needed one of his slaves, but it saved him from having to worry that one of them might escape or that a client might accidentally stumble down here. The locks had to be attended to manually, no spell or magical force could break through them without exhausting the spell caster beyond measure.

As he was unlocking the numerous latches, Lucius spied through the glass at his wanton group. The room inside was clad in brushed silk curtains along every wall and the floor was littered with plush pillows and cushions. The colors of plum, deep red and gold reminded him of a brief encounter he’d had in a Moroccan brothel. There on the ground, luxuriating in the fine fabrics were fourteen of the world’s finest specimens in human form. He watched as they writhed, men and women alike, against one another, a sea of creamy flesh and shining hair.

As soon as he opened the final lock, he cracked open the door and the sounds hit him. Moans, growls, panting and screaming accosted him as he scanned the crowd of sweat slicked bodies. He enjoyed watching them roiling in pleasure. A quick look showed him the three women he wanted and he went up to the first. Rebecca, her curly chocolate brown hair was sprawled behind her on a velvet cushion while their newest addition, Jonathan, lapped at her creamy white breasts; she whimpered when Lucius shoved Jonathan away. The boy frowned but soon spotted a trio of men he decided to join instead. With a rough yank to her upper arm, Lucius pulled Rebecca to her feet and slapped a metal collar around her neck before leading her with a leash over to his next girl.

Ginger’s skin was the color of a moonless night and her eyes shone golden like a cats in the dimly lit room. She was impaling herself upon a thick stud of a man when Lucius grabbed her by the back of the neck and hauled her to her feet. “Fuck!” she shouted in pain and frustration, clamoring to grab a hold of her thick meaty prize once more, but Lucius clicked her collar into place and she went almost limp in his embrace.

The next girl, Anne was busy pleasuring Gregory with her tongue while another young man had several fingers inside Greg’s arse. A nice grip on her flaxen hair made her easy to lift and as soon as the collar went on, she too was as tame as a kitten. With a shimmering strap Lucius led the women upstairs, locking the doors securely behind him, and brought them into the small parlor where his client awaited.

“Ah Mr. Pompleroy, had I known it was you I would have brought our newest arrival up as well,” Lucius offered.

He may as well not have been speaking though, for Mr. Pompleroy only had eyes for the luscious naked women at his side.

“See one that you fancy?” he asked with a smirk and his client practically salivated his response.

“How much for all three?” he asked and Lucius grinned wickedly.

“A wise man,” he praised. “I’m sure we can work something out. Patricia, please lead the ladies and Mr. Pompleroy into the Scarlet suite.” His little muggle servant rushed off, grabbing the magical leash from Lucius and leading the girls and the prestigious client upstairs while Lucius went to the topmost floor and unlatched the door to the room across from his office.

There, hanging from thick iron shackles was a woman with several glowing red wounds. She hung limply in her binds, her pale hair streaked with blood her face set in a tortured mask. “Ah, my dear Abigail,” Lucius whispered, and her head snapped up at the sound, her eyes widening with shock. “Mr. Pompleroy was here for you, but I’m afraid you may have lost him to a new trio.”

Her voice was breathy and hoarse when she spoke, her lips cracked with blood. “Please. I need it, please,” she rasped.

“Have you been a good girl?” Lucius asked in a singsong voice. “Have you decided to stop rallying the others against me?”

She nodded weakly, her body sagging in her binds, offering up her defeat. “Please,” she whispered again, and Lucius flicked his wand in her direction and she fell instantly to her knees.

“What do you offer in exchange for my kindness?” he asked, pacing the floor in front of her.

“Anything,” she moaned. “Anything, just please make it stop.”

He knew the inferno that consumed his charges at both ends when they were denied release, but still Lucius waited eyeing her curiously to see what she would do. Abigail scrambled across the floor and lunged at Lucius’ belt buckle, undoing it with quick and practiced movements before taking his swollen cock into her mouth. She tasted him deeply, letting him thrust down her throat and she whimpered as the pain subsided. After a moment, as he had already been thrusting inside the tight mouth of Ludwig earlier, he came violently aiming it at her breasts and laughing as she hissed in pain when the creamy white liquid coated her open wounds.

He then refastened his trousers and left the room, locking it behind him and leaving her there to be punished further. Lucius knew that since she was left unchained, she could pleasure herself, but he also knew that it wasn’t quite the same relief as being pleasured by another.

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Hermione stared slack jawed at her best friend, who she had finally found lying in a sobbing heap on the floor. Harry hadn’t shown up for any of the days meals, and Ron couldn’t recall him having come back after his detention the night before. Snape swore Harry was intact when he abruptly left his scheduled detention and told Hermione to inform Harry that he would receive an additional detention for leaving without his permission.

She and Ron had searched everywhere, all four turrets and any classroom they could get into, all to no avail. They couldn’t even find Harry’s map to assist them, their friend had hidden it quite well. It wasn’t until later that day while attempting to study in the library for Ancient Runes, when Luna mentioned the upcoming Quidditch game that Hermione thought about the pitch. Not even bothering to round up Ron, Hermione bolted as quick as she could to the grounds where Harry so loved to fly, but couldn’t see him anywhere. She began fearing that perhaps Harry was hiding under his invisibility cloak when she decided to check one last place –the locker rooms.

That was where she found him -in the showers to be exact. He was nude and shivering under a spray that had long gone cold. In the many years she had known Harry Potter, stood by his side and fought back to back with him, she had never seen him look so broken. He didn’t look at her as she approached, didn’t even acknowledge her existence. Instead he stared off into the distance, his green gaze made glossy and bloodshot with tears.

At once she turned off the water, not wanting him to freeze to death. “Harry?” she whispered, inching closer, unsure of what else to do or how to handle her distraught friend.

“It hurts,” Harry rasped, his voice cracking as if he’d been screaming for hours.

“What hurts?” Hermione asked, rushing to his side to inspect for bodily harm.

“Everything. It all hurts so badly, but I can’t go back again. I can’t do that again,” he cried, burying his face in his pruned hands.

“You have to tell me what’s going on, Harry. I can’t help you if I don’t understand,” she pleaded.

“I can’t stop seeing his face,” Harry moaned. “His stupid sneer and his adoring eyes.”

“Harry, you’re rambling. Please, I need you to talk to me.”

“He’s beautiful and he smells so good, like the only bloom in a desert. But I can’t, I can’t do it again,” Harry whined, clutching his knees to his chest.

“Who are you talking about?” she begged. She couldn’t understand what was happening and she was beginning to get scared.

“Malfoy,” Harry rasped in answer and the name shocked Hermione so badly that she fell backwards from her kneeling stance to land flat on her arse on the still wet floor.

“Did Malfoy do something to you?” she asked angrily. “Did he-“ she began, but Harry cut her off with a rough laugh.

“Yes. He did something to me. He opened my eyes,” Harry muttered bitterly. He took a deep shuddering breath and looked up at Hermione for the first time since she entered the room. “I’m not normal, Hermione. No matter how much I’d like to be I’m just not, and it seems I never will be.”

It was as she had suspected, but the words made it sound even worse. “You are normal,” Hermione protested. “Just because some prat of a boy rapes you doesn’t make you abnormal, Harry,” she cried.

Harry laughed again, still harsh and still haunted. “He didn’t rape me, Mione.”

“Well he obviously did something to you, Harry,” she soothed, but when she reached out to touch him, comfort him but he jerked away.

“Don’t,” he hissed. Just go.”

“Harr-“

“Go!” he shouted, making Hermione scramble away as she felt that otherworldly tether to his magic flair all around him. Harry fell back to the tile in a puddle of icy water and Hermione backed away. She didn’t want to leave Harry alone, but she felt like she might need back up. Clearly something had happened to her poor friend, but this was one problem she felt ill equipped to deal with.

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“Draco Malfoy!” screamed a voice over the din of the student laden corridor. Draco frowned and turned, wondering what mongrel was shouting at him, when he spotted everyone else in the hallway doing the same. A pair of furious chocolate brown eyes in a head of bushy brown hair stared back at him and Draco rolled his eyes.

He refused to give her a response and instead just stood there and waited for her to approach him, tapping his foot lightly on the cool stone floor as he did. He didn’t have long to wait, for the moment he made eye contact with her she stormed right at him. Before he had time to react her had came sharply across his face and her knee kicked roughly into his groin.

“Bitch,” he hissed. “What the fuck was that for, Granger?”

“You know exactly what that was for you poor excuse for a man,” she spat.

“ Sod off, Mudblood,” Draco retorted with a sneer.

“How do you do it?” she demanded. “How do you do something like that and then pretend like it was just another day?”

“And what is it that I’m supposed to have done?” Draco asked, knowing full well that Potter wouldn’t have had the balls to tell her anything about what they did the night before, but she was certainly pissed off about something.

“You fucking raped Harry!” she growled, seeming more like her feral ginger cat than a civilized girl.

“Is that what he told you?” Draco scoffed. “You’re mad, the both of you. You can’t just go around shouting wild accusations like that!”

“He’s broken, Malfoy. Whatever it is you did to him, he’s broken,” she spat. “Are you happy now?”

“No, I’m not happy you stupid bint,” he growled in reply before he reminded himself that he owed Granger no explanations. His entire body was screaming at him to find Harry and comfort him and he just wanted the Know-it-All to shut the hell up.

She did seem mildly taken aback by his outburst though, not that it stopped her from laying into him again. “You’ll pay for what you’ve done to him, Malfoy,” she warned but Draco just shook his head.

“You don’t even know your friend anymore, Granger,” he spat. “You like research so much? Look up the word ‘Incubus’.” With that he spun around and marched off, trying to search out the scent of his mate.

He found it at the end of a corridor that led outside. It was difficult to pick up, but not nearly as hard as it had been before they had sex. Now it was as if his body was tuned into Harry’s, as if the Gryffindor was always with him somehow. The essence led him down and away from the castle and toward the pitch where instinct took over and he broke into a run for the boy’s locker rooms.

As he had suspected he found Harry there, sitting on the floor with his knees drawn up to his chest and the very glimpse of his mate, nude and damp made his lust triple within him. That wasn’t what he was there for though, and it was as if his body knew that. So instead of leaping upon the boy like a rabid animal, he just kneeled behind him and wrapped his arms soothingly around Harry’s frail body.

“I can’t-“ Harry stammered, his voice breaking and it reminded Draco of Hermione’s words. ‘You broke him’ her voice echoed in his head and he cringed.

“You need to stand up and you need to face the world, Potter. This isn’t going to get any easier for either of us, but we’re both in this together,” Draco told him quietly.

“How much do you know?” Harry asked, keeping his face strategically turned away from Draco’s.

“A bit. I got it from my mother’s side, so she’s told me some, but I gather that Father won’t allow her to tell me everything,” Draco told him, sounding bitter even to himself.

“And what are we?” His voice quivered on the last word, as if he had a hard time with it. Draco still found it difficult to think of them as a joined unit and he had been reading up on his kind all summer, he could only imagine how Harry must feel.

“Incubi,” Draco answered. “We can talk if you want, we can sit down and I can tell you everything I know,” he offered.

“I-I – I can’t. I don’t think I can be near you right now,” Harry admitted.

“Don’t you feel better when you touch me?” Draco asked, utterly confused. The moment he placed his hands on his mate’s cool flesh he felt instantly at ease, as if they had been confidants and lovers for decades. He didn’t understand why Harry wouldn’t feel it too.

“Yes and no,” Harry replied shakily. “I feel better when you touch me, but at the same time I know I shouldn’t.”

“We’re meant to be together, Harry. You and I,” Draco informed him honestly, trying to soften the blow by using the boy’s given name, unfortunately it had the opposite effect.

In a rough movement Harry whirled in his embrace and shoved the Draco away. “Don’t act as if you suddenly know me,” Harry growled. “We’re not friends, we’re not best mates, we are nothing to each other.”

Draco wrapped his arms around himself, feeling injured by Harry’swords as true as he knew they were. He had set out to conquer Harry, but every time he was near the dark-haired Gryffindor he just wanted to hold him, kiss him and make love to him. It was as if Draco Malfoy melted away and something new and more pure stood in his place.

But there his mate stood, rejecting it all, telling him ‘no’, refusing to believe that this was their destiny. It was infuriating. “Kiss me,” he demanded at last, not willing to let Harry slip away from him entirely.

“What?” Harry balked, eyes wide with something that mimicked terror.

“Kiss me and I’ll prove it,” Draco repeated. “I’ll prove you and I belong together.”

“Sod off, Malfoy,” came a voice that wasn’t Harry’s.

Draco turned to find Weasley and Granger glaring at him and he sighed; no more alone time with his mate, not now that the trio was whole again. He turned and gave Harry one last heated look and shook his head in dismay. “You’ll see before the end,” he announced. “You all will.”

He slipped by Harry, careful not to touch him because he knew even once passing graze of fingers would send him reeling back to him, and he left the room, storming passed a lobster red Weasley and a narrow eyed Granger.

“Let’s get you dressed, Harry,” he heard Granger say before he got out of earshot and grumbled that they were spoiling everything.

Author's Note: Poor broken Harry and poor shot down Draco.