Born in Frustration
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
32
Views:
34,063
Reviews:
217
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
32
Views:
34,063
Reviews:
217
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
I Don't, I Won't, I Can't, Oh Damn I do
12/10/06 - just correcting some things.
Thanks for the reviews guys, t'is much appreciated.
12/11/06 beta corrections....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~Chapter Six: I Don’t, I Won’t, I Can’t. Oh Damn I Do~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter Note:
Draco's thoughts
Draco's niggling inner voice
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Draco arrived back in his room at Malfoy Manor and immediately began pacing. His hands were trembling, and his breathing uneasy. One single thought was running through his brain…
‘I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care…’
‘I don’t care about Bloody-Fucking-Potter,’ Draco told himself firmly.
And yet, Draco could not help the sinking feeling in his stomach. His heart was racing and a terrible sorrow was creeping up on him, threatening to drown him. The image of Harry’s sad, sunken face, burned inside his brain. Those once sparkling green eyes so glazed over with pain and neglect. Draco couldn’t stand it. He tried to force it from his mind. Unfortunately, as soon as that picture left, it was replaced with an even more terrible one, the image of a screaming and sobbing Potter. A boy being beaten and forced to watch the lashes cut across his own flesh. Draco shuddered. Something inside him was fighting with every instinct Draco possessed. Every thing he had ever been taught…
‘He needs help.’
‘Not from me, he doesn’t.’
‘You have to do something.’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘Yes, you do.’
‘NO, I DON’T.’
“I DON’T CARE!” He bellowed aloud as his body trembled and tears ran down his face.
As soon as the words left his mouth, they felt so hollow. How could he not feel something? No one could stand by and witness what he had, and not be moved in some way. It was too much. The entire idea that everything he ever thought about Harry Potter was, in fact, wrong, burned Draco’s insides like fire. How could he have been so blind? How could everyone be so damned blind?
This was wrong. Something needed to be done. But Draco didn’t want the responsibility. He didn’t want to care. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.
‘I won’t do this, I won’t, I won’t…’ his pacing increased until he was practically throwing himself across the room.
Potter had said he didn’t want anyone to know. Draco had promised he wouldn’t tell a soul. But helping Potter and telling everyone his secret were two different things. So he had to do something. But what could he do? There must be some way he could help Potter… Draco stopped dead in his tracks.
‘What the hell am I thinking?’ he asked himself. ‘Help Potter? I’ve gone insane. He landed my father in prison. What the hell is wrong with me?’ he cursed at his own idiocy.
This was Harry Potter, his enemy. This was not some innocent. Yet, the image of Harry’s abused body and pained face would not leave him.
‘I won’t care, this is not my problem,’ he told himself. Yet, that niggling voice inside him, told him it was.
‘You can’t stand by and do nothing.’
‘Yes, I can. Harry’s the enemy.’
‘Why?’
‘Because he’s Harry-Bloody-Fucking-Potter, that’s why!’
‘So?’
‘My father is in Azkaban because of him!’
‘Is he?’
‘Of course!’
‘You know that’s not true.’
‘Damn it! Shut the fuck up!’
Harry Potter was his sworn enemy, always had been, from the day they first met.
‘Was he?’
‘Oh, bloody hell, I’m going insane!’
Thinking back to the very first time he had met Harry, he realised that they weren’t sworn enemies. He remembered standing next to him at Madam Malkin’s, talking about school. Harry had been so shy and nervous, and Gods, Draco had been such a prat, prattling on about Mudbloods and pureblood nonsense. He had noticed the boy next to him, in shabby clothes ten sizes too big. Thinking back, it was obvious then, the boy was being neglected.
Why had he never noticed before? Why had no one ever noticed before? This couldn’t be happening. Why was this happening?
‘I can’t do this, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t….’
‘If not you, then who will?’
‘Anyone, everyone – no one,’ Draco told himself sadly. If he stood by and did nothing, then no one would know. No one would help Harry.
‘But, I can’t. I just can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because, it’s – it’s none of my business, that’s why.’
‘No one told you to go to Privet Drive and snoop on Harry Potter.’
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake.’
‘You know it’s true. If you had just minded your own damn business…’
‘If I had minded my own damn business, then no one would know.’
‘True.’
‘Well, how is that good?’
‘It’s not, Draco.’
‘Well, what the bloody fuck?’
‘Harry needs help.’
‘I know.’
‘Only you can help him.’
‘I know.’
‘You know what you have to do.’
‘I know.’
“Damn, I do care,” Draco said out loud.
‘See, that wasn’t so hard,’ said his niggling voice.
“BLOODY, FUCKING HELL!” he screamed, nearly pulling out his hair. “BUGGERING, BLOODY, BLASTED, FUCKING, HARRY POTTER!” Draco wailed.
He went to his writing desk and pulled out some parchment, ink and quill. Carefully, he wrote a note then called his eagle owl, Vestra. He tied the note to her leg and carried her to the window.
“Wait for a response,” he told her. “If I’m not here, I will be at Potter’s.”
A sense of relief swept over Draco as he watched her fly off.
He turned, moved to the middle of the room, he called out. “Binty.” Immediately, a house-elf appeared. “I want you to fetch me some healing balms for bruises and lacerations, something good for infections as well, pain potions, a weeks worth of a strong restorative potion and good nutrition potion. Oh, and pack some food – something that is good for someone who has not eaten in a fortnight,” he ordered, pacing. “Oh, and some clean sheets for a single bed – and…” he looked menacingly at the elf, “mention none of this to my mother.” If any of this sounded odd to the elf, she gave no indication. She disappeared promptly, to fulfill her master’s wishes.
Draco moved to his own dresser, retrieving some clean pyjamas and a soft tee-shirt and comfortable trousers. Within a few minutes, the elf returned with a case filled with the items Draco had requested, handing them to her master.
“Thank you, Binty. That will be all, and remember, not a word to my mother.” The elf nodded as she disappeared.
“Fucking Potter,” he said darkly, “I do care.”
Draco added his items to the case, glanced around his room then Apparated back to Number Four Privet Drive.
Thanks for the reviews guys, t'is much appreciated.
12/11/06 beta corrections....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~Chapter Six: I Don’t, I Won’t, I Can’t. Oh Damn I Do~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter Note:
Draco's thoughts
Draco's niggling inner voice
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Draco arrived back in his room at Malfoy Manor and immediately began pacing. His hands were trembling, and his breathing uneasy. One single thought was running through his brain…
‘I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care…’
‘I don’t care about Bloody-Fucking-Potter,’ Draco told himself firmly.
And yet, Draco could not help the sinking feeling in his stomach. His heart was racing and a terrible sorrow was creeping up on him, threatening to drown him. The image of Harry’s sad, sunken face, burned inside his brain. Those once sparkling green eyes so glazed over with pain and neglect. Draco couldn’t stand it. He tried to force it from his mind. Unfortunately, as soon as that picture left, it was replaced with an even more terrible one, the image of a screaming and sobbing Potter. A boy being beaten and forced to watch the lashes cut across his own flesh. Draco shuddered. Something inside him was fighting with every instinct Draco possessed. Every thing he had ever been taught…
‘He needs help.’
‘Not from me, he doesn’t.’
‘You have to do something.’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘Yes, you do.’
‘NO, I DON’T.’
“I DON’T CARE!” He bellowed aloud as his body trembled and tears ran down his face.
As soon as the words left his mouth, they felt so hollow. How could he not feel something? No one could stand by and witness what he had, and not be moved in some way. It was too much. The entire idea that everything he ever thought about Harry Potter was, in fact, wrong, burned Draco’s insides like fire. How could he have been so blind? How could everyone be so damned blind?
This was wrong. Something needed to be done. But Draco didn’t want the responsibility. He didn’t want to care. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.
‘I won’t do this, I won’t, I won’t…’ his pacing increased until he was practically throwing himself across the room.
Potter had said he didn’t want anyone to know. Draco had promised he wouldn’t tell a soul. But helping Potter and telling everyone his secret were two different things. So he had to do something. But what could he do? There must be some way he could help Potter… Draco stopped dead in his tracks.
‘What the hell am I thinking?’ he asked himself. ‘Help Potter? I’ve gone insane. He landed my father in prison. What the hell is wrong with me?’ he cursed at his own idiocy.
This was Harry Potter, his enemy. This was not some innocent. Yet, the image of Harry’s abused body and pained face would not leave him.
‘I won’t care, this is not my problem,’ he told himself. Yet, that niggling voice inside him, told him it was.
‘You can’t stand by and do nothing.’
‘Yes, I can. Harry’s the enemy.’
‘Why?’
‘Because he’s Harry-Bloody-Fucking-Potter, that’s why!’
‘So?’
‘My father is in Azkaban because of him!’
‘Is he?’
‘Of course!’
‘You know that’s not true.’
‘Damn it! Shut the fuck up!’
Harry Potter was his sworn enemy, always had been, from the day they first met.
‘Was he?’
‘Oh, bloody hell, I’m going insane!’
Thinking back to the very first time he had met Harry, he realised that they weren’t sworn enemies. He remembered standing next to him at Madam Malkin’s, talking about school. Harry had been so shy and nervous, and Gods, Draco had been such a prat, prattling on about Mudbloods and pureblood nonsense. He had noticed the boy next to him, in shabby clothes ten sizes too big. Thinking back, it was obvious then, the boy was being neglected.
Why had he never noticed before? Why had no one ever noticed before? This couldn’t be happening. Why was this happening?
‘I can’t do this, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t….’
‘If not you, then who will?’
‘Anyone, everyone – no one,’ Draco told himself sadly. If he stood by and did nothing, then no one would know. No one would help Harry.
‘But, I can’t. I just can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because, it’s – it’s none of my business, that’s why.’
‘No one told you to go to Privet Drive and snoop on Harry Potter.’
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake.’
‘You know it’s true. If you had just minded your own damn business…’
‘If I had minded my own damn business, then no one would know.’
‘True.’
‘Well, how is that good?’
‘It’s not, Draco.’
‘Well, what the bloody fuck?’
‘Harry needs help.’
‘I know.’
‘Only you can help him.’
‘I know.’
‘You know what you have to do.’
‘I know.’
“Damn, I do care,” Draco said out loud.
‘See, that wasn’t so hard,’ said his niggling voice.
“BLOODY, FUCKING HELL!” he screamed, nearly pulling out his hair. “BUGGERING, BLOODY, BLASTED, FUCKING, HARRY POTTER!” Draco wailed.
He went to his writing desk and pulled out some parchment, ink and quill. Carefully, he wrote a note then called his eagle owl, Vestra. He tied the note to her leg and carried her to the window.
“Wait for a response,” he told her. “If I’m not here, I will be at Potter’s.”
A sense of relief swept over Draco as he watched her fly off.
He turned, moved to the middle of the room, he called out. “Binty.” Immediately, a house-elf appeared. “I want you to fetch me some healing balms for bruises and lacerations, something good for infections as well, pain potions, a weeks worth of a strong restorative potion and good nutrition potion. Oh, and pack some food – something that is good for someone who has not eaten in a fortnight,” he ordered, pacing. “Oh, and some clean sheets for a single bed – and…” he looked menacingly at the elf, “mention none of this to my mother.” If any of this sounded odd to the elf, she gave no indication. She disappeared promptly, to fulfill her master’s wishes.
Draco moved to his own dresser, retrieving some clean pyjamas and a soft tee-shirt and comfortable trousers. Within a few minutes, the elf returned with a case filled with the items Draco had requested, handing them to her master.
“Thank you, Binty. That will be all, and remember, not a word to my mother.” The elf nodded as she disappeared.
“Fucking Potter,” he said darkly, “I do care.”
Draco added his items to the case, glanced around his room then Apparated back to Number Four Privet Drive.