Where Lies Will Not Blossom

Author: Akumu Suta-Raito

Fandom: Harry Potter

Rating: R (Adult)

Genre: Romance, Drama, Angst, H/C

Pairing: Harry/Draco

Warnings: Language, Anal, Explicit Torture, Disturbing imagery.

Summary: HD Dark Epic. 'A single tear found its way down his cheek, hidden by his death-mask.' In the summer before sixth year, Draco Malfoy attended a Dark Revel. It wasn't what he expected. Author’s Note: Okay. So this is a first for me – I’m doing a P.O.V. for the Dark Lord… in a roundabout way. It’s weird; I know that most people would write his thoughts as consistently chaotic because Voldie is a homicidal maniac. I decided to go a different route – I envision the Dark Lord as somewhat analytical and introspective, given the schemes he has executed. I mean, there is a demented kind of genius about him. At least I think so, lol.

Well, without further ado, Chapter Seven!

Chapter Seven: Seeing Beyond

Draco sighed as he once again tugged uselessly on the chain connected to his collar. Collar. What was he, a bloody kneazle? But, of course, it wouldn’t do for him to be able to move when the Dark Lord wanted to molest him. A shudder that started in his hands traveled up and down the length of his body; he probably looked as if he was having a seizure. Granted, besides a couple of truly disturbing words and the occasional caress across his face or hair, he was left relatively unscathed by Voldemort.

The Dark Lord had repeatedly called him ‘pretty’ and gripped him harshly every time he attempted to resist the revolting touch. Eventually the monster left, probably off to watch the torture of some unsuspecting Muggles, but this left Draco far from reassured. After being left alone for a number of hours, he finally began to regain some of his Slytherin patented calm and tried to comprehend how his situation had changed.

He supposed he should feel grateful that he was no longer be relentlessly tortured, but at least then he knew what to expect. Wake up in discomforting pain, morning and afternoon evisceration, and go to sleep in agony. Draco should have been able to figure out that something was up because of this odd schedule – no matter how much pain he was in the night before, come morning he always felt much better. He was stupid to think it was simply the old wives tale that ‘everything feels better in the morning.’

Someone, most likely a Death Eater lackey, seemed to have healed his most pressing injuries while he slept. This made sense considering the Dark Lord seemed to have some sort of sick fixation with him and was reluctant to have him killed off so soon. What was even more frightening was the fact that this obsession seemed fairly sexual in nature. When he thought of feeling faintly scaly and dry limbs against his own –

Draco couldn’t take it anymore and began to gag, his body bent over the edge of the bed as he tried to expel the contents of his stomach via mouth. The collar was pulled tight against his neck as he spit out acidic bile, and Draco, clenching his fingers into the fine silk bed sheets, wondered how he had been reduced to this. The pet of a madman, one who wanted to posses him mind, body, and soul – wanting everything that was his…

Draco, skin crawling, was finally able to get his desperate heaving under control and shook as he flopped back on the bed. He wanted nothing more to curl into as small ball and pretend that he was still in his cell – it was safer than he could ever be here – and sleep. But that was only wishful thinking considering the new situation; not only did the Dark Lord have some twisted desire for him, but his location would be detrimental to any rescue plan made by the Order.

Severus could have visited his cell and updated him, perhaps even informing him of the day on which the plan would be executed; in other words, he would be prepared. Now, there was virtually no way to communicate with his godfather; he doubted the man would even be told that he was no longer in the cell. Not only that, but Draco also had no idea how long Voldemort planned on keeping him alive.

Being the son of a prominent Death Eater, Draco had been privy to a number of ‘interesting’ facts regarding the Dark Lord. One that had always stuck in his mind was that after Voldemort decided to take a bedmate, the unfortunate victim expired after just one sexual encounter with the bastard.

Draco was unaware if this was because the man (if the Dark Lord could be referred to as such) was terribly brutal, or if something much more sinister was occurring – Gods only knew the Dark rituals used to make the man nearly immortal. What if he used the Darkest of sex magick to somehow harness the power of his victim’s death? Even worse, Draco was a virgin. Virgins were especially prized in these sorts of rites; if the Dark Lord knew, then his life would be shortened even more.

No. No! He wouldn’t die like this… Draco raised a shaking hand to his burning eyes, rubbing them harshly and refused to shed tears over the state of affairs. No one would be there to see them, not even him – they were useless, crying was a worthless action. He wasn’t going to… a sob burst through his chest before he managed to get it under control.

Shaking with the effort of burying his emotions, Draco pulled himself into a sitting position. He couldn’t sit here and wait for the Order to come up with some brilliant plan, especially since they didn’t know the latest developments. He had to find his way out of here; he refused to die like this! Now, the first thing would be to look at the circumstances objectively.

He had been taken out of the lower levels of the Manor and put in what he believed to be the Dark Lord’s private quarters (he figured the fiend hadn’t lied about that). He couldn’t explore his surroundings by touch because of the cold metal around his neck. However, due to the faint echo heard when Voldemort had spoken to him, Draco could guess that the room was fairly cavernous. Feeling alongside the wall, Draco was also able to feel that the walls were made of stone.

Due to the fact that the upper three levels had been overlaid with wood paneling several centuries ago, Draco thought it was safe to assume that he was in one of the lower two floors. Okay, that was something.

But attempting to navigate his way out of the Manor would prove impossible; not only was he literally chained to a bed, but even if he was able to leave the room, he would be unable to see where he was going. Death Eaters would find him comically fast, not to mention what Voldemort would do to him for trying to run.

Merlin, how was he going to do this?

But Severus told him to hold on, to wait… could he do that? He had to. There was no alternative, other than to give up hope and allow that monster to crush him – Draco revolted against the idea immediately.

No, he had to find a way to still be alive when Severus came for him. More lives would not be lost trying vainly to save his, but how could he possibly live past what the Dark Lord believed his expiration date to be?

Hmm.

Unless, of course…

A smirk slowly found its way onto Draco’s face, one that had been unused for far too long. ‘Yes, this will do,’ Draco thought a plan already forming in his head. The Dark Lord found him attractive because he was fascinating. Well, Draco would just have to make sure Voldemort stayed enthralled…


There was darkness. A deep, encompassing fog that threatened to press him at all sides – there was no escape. He knew of nothing, no end or beginning, no sense of time or motion. He was being pulled farther and farther away from himself, unable to stop the flow of this unnatural river, and Harry dreamed.

He walked, his tall, nearly skeletal frame seeming weightless. The dark cloak was soft and light against his cold, dry skin as Harry traveled down the stone corridor. The walls were framed with priceless items: jewel encrusted vases, ageless Grecian sculptures, and one-of-kind magical artifacts – but he paid these no mind, for his cargo was far more precious than any of the meaningless possessions.

Harry glanced to the side, studying the body hovering slightly to the left of his. Blonde hair reflected the dim light in the corridor, which framed beautiful features shaped from many centuries worth of careful breeding. Dirty, shapeless rags hid what he knew to be a lithe, surprisingly resilient body.

Yes, he was satisfied with his little prize.

He felt a feral urge, an urge to break and crush and tame the teen – to possess that soft flesh. The boy intrigued him with uncaring attitude; he held back no words, seemingly not intimidated by Harry’s power. At the same time, he was able to show surprising fear and frailty in certain circumstances; the boy gave nary a flinch towards killing his pureblood aunt, but was found hysterical over the body of that filthy muggle.

The boy was contradictory, paradoxical, puzzling.

He so enjoyed a good puzzle.

Harry also saw the great potential, potential that not even the boy’s foolish father had seen. He wondered why his servants were unable to see the boy’s Ability – but not even the boy knew of his Gift. But the signs were obvious – his body able to take so much punishment, repairing itself with an apparently inexhaustible amount of Curatio (1).

His mind not breaking under nearly ten minutes of the Cruciatus. Being able to surpass three wards which prevented Apparation. Countless other unexplained occurrences.

Initially, Harry was enraged that Malfoy had wasted his time with a disgusting tainted little blood-traitor. Now he knew that his slippery follower had given him a true treasure – one that insured his victory over the impure. Yes, if only Lucius knew he had sired a gem worth more than the Malfoy fortune…

He watched the boy’s lids flutter, opening to reveal blank, blind eyes. Perhaps if his little Dragon behaved himself, he would be rewarded with his vision.

But no, he was far too cunning to be given even that advantage. It wouldn’t do for the blond to be able to plan an escape…

The boy’s confusion and desperation sang to him; Harry reveled at the image the boy presented as he tugged on the chain confining him to the bed.

“It isss good to sssee you awake. I thought you would dream forever, young Draco.”

Ah, the scent of fear was so enticing in the morning.


Harry jerked awake with a cry, curling up as the throbbing pain from his head brought tears to his eyes. Waves of agony, originating from his curse scar, made him physically sick – he fought to keep down his dinner.

Harry struggled to stay still, knowing from experience that any unnecessary movements would cause even more torture. Finally, after several excruciating minutes, the ‘headache’ finally lessoned to a dull throbbing. Harry slowly uncurled from his tight ball, his mind spinning as he finally comprehended what he now knew.

What he had seen.

What he had felt.

He had been in Voldemort’s twisted mind, the utter vileness of the Dark Lord’s thoughts making him sick. Harry had a moment of perfect clarity, where he had known all of his enemy’s plans down to the smallest of intricacies – but that moment had passed and he was only left with the barest of impressions.

Three things he knew for sure:

1. The Dark Lord was the most demented, twisted sick fuck that Harry had never wanted insight into.
2. The recruit had some kind of power that Voldemort believed would win the war.
3. The recruit was not some mysterious, unknown figure. It was Draco Malfoy, his one-time rival and he needed help. Now.

For a moment, his mind went blank with panic before he figured out what he needed to do – inform the Order.

Oh Gods, he had to tell the Order! Harry fell out of bed as he struggled to untangle himself with his bed sheets before he ran towards the door, stumbling as he clumsily opened it, frantic to tell the others what he knew. Gasping like a man starved for air, Harry vaulted himself down the hallway, intending to firecall Dumbledore. He was soon stopped when he ran into a rather solid shadow.

He nearly fell backwards before he regained his footing, peering at the blurry figure before cursing inwardly – how had he been stupid enough forget his glasses? But something was oddly familiar about the tall form.

“Potter.” The name was growled out with an abhorrence that only one person could possibly manage.

Professor Snape.

“P-Professor,” Harry choked out in relief. “I saw – there was, the Dark Lord is planning to hurt Malf –” (2) His words were quickly cut off as cold, long figured hand clamped over his mouth and the professor began to drag him backwards in the hallway.

Shocked into complacency for a moment, Harry began to resist quite ferociously but the thin man was almost frighteningly strong. He found himself being hauled back into his room, where Snape quickly let go of him before cast a silencing charm and ward around the room with lightning fast accuracy. Several candles flicked to life and he dove for his glasses on the dresser and snatched his wand from under his pillow, already aiming it at Snape before his spectacles sat on his face.

He couldn’t believe the slimy bastard actually attacked him! What the hell was the man playing at?

Seemingly nonplussed by having his student’s wand pointing him the face, Snape stepped forward.

“Stop! Don’t come any closer – not until you explain what the hell is going on!”

Harry braced himself for an attack, but nearly dropped his wand in surprise when the man rolled his eyes and said, “Very well, Potter.”

Feeling slightly emboldened and more than a little confused, Harry got ready to demand answers out of the Potion’s Master. “What’s going on? Why did you attack me?”

Once again the man rolled his eyes. “That, Potter, was not attack. Had I attacked you, you would be severely injured or dead, and since you’re still annoying alive –”

“Stop,” Harry gritted out between clinched teeth, “and tell me why you dragged me back to this room!”

The man stared at him coldly with his dark, fathomless eyes and Harry suddenly felt a trickle of fear crawl up his spine. He had not doubted Snape’s loyalty in a long while, but the man’s recent actions were more than a little suspicious. Harry swiftly put even more space between the man and himself, backing up until his back hit the wall.

“I was simply preventing you from making a rather grave mistake.”

“And that would be,” Harry nearly snarled out, not allowing the man to wiggle his way out of the question.

“Inadvertently causing the death of my godson,” Snape replied and Harry was slightly surprised to see the man’s face tense with something akin to pain.

Harry frowned heavily. “I have no idea what you are talking about. I don’t even know who your godson is.”

“Not even you can be this clueless,” The man looked faintly disbelieving, making Harry’s anger spike.

“I don’t give a damn about your godson, I’m surely not going to kill anyone! You haven’t made any sense –”

“Potter, you’ve consistently proved to me that the one thing you cannot do is listen, but I am asking you to do just that. Listen to me before you get someone killed, before I decided to simply Oblivate you and be done with it!”

Keeping his wand raised, Harry repeated, “What’s going on?”

“I suggest you take a seat Potter, this may take a while.”

Harry snorted. “I’ll stand, thanks.”

Snape shrugged apathetically and sat on Harry’s bed. Of all the conceited, infuriating…

“From the way you scar stands livid on you skin and that you were tearing through the hall like a madman, I’m assuming that you’ve just had a vision. A rather disturbing one.”

Harry’s frown deepened. “Yes,” He stated reluctantly.

“In this vision, no doubt, you have seen the Dark Lord torturing or otherwise harming my godson. The recruit. Draco Malfoy.”

Oh. So that was who Snape was talking about. “How did you – It doesn’t matter. You’re still not making any sense. I wasn’t trying to get Malfoy killed; I was trying to help him by informing the Order. You don’t –”

“No,” the man sneered. “You were about to get him killed.”

After hearing this Harry exploded. “What the hell is your problem? Do you honestly think that I would purposely get Malfoy killed just because of some stupid childhood rivalry! Just because he acted like a prick doesn’t mean he deserves to die! Do you think I’m capable of being so cold-blooded?”

The dark-haired man gave him a long, searching look before answering. “Quite the contrary, Potter. But your foolish attempt to help would have only signed his death warrant.”

“So you keep saying, but I’ve yet to see any proof.”

“Since I know of your dubious mental capabilities, I will be very frank. By now you already know the story of the recruit – and do not deny it for I know you and your nosy friends found some way to spy on the meeting – and of how the Order is planning to rescue him.”

Harry saw no use in denying. “Yes.”

“No one in that room knows that the recruit is Draco Malfoy. They must not know until the moment he is taken from Malfoy Manor because some in that room would not lift a finger to help him if they were to find out his identity.”

“That isn’t true,” Harry denied immediately. “It wouldn’t matter. No one would ca –”

“Oh, Potter. Would you take your oversized head out of your arse for one moment and see the world for what it truly is? Of course it would matter! The people in the Order, while fighting for all that is good and fair and righteous, have very limited views of right and wrong. There is no middle ground, no shade of gray, no such thing as a Death Eater turned spy or a pureblood child rejecting the principles that he was taught! I have served this Order for years, gathering priceless information at unbelievable risks and I am still treated with distrust – still labeled as a murderer. Even without knowing the name of the recruit, I still had to make a convincing argument as to why we should help him. Do you hear that Potter? I had to convince them to save someone who was being tortured for doing the right thing!”

“B-But Dumbledore –”

“As hard as this may be for you to believe, Albus Dumbledore is neither a God nor the second coming of Merlin. He is one man. He cannot change the minds of millions, nor can he sway those in the Order who are set in their ways. I refuse to risk Draco’s life by hoping for the best in people. I already know that I would be disappointed. Besides, it only takes one person on a mission that doesn’t believe in it to change an otherwise successful assignment into a failed disaster.”

“I –” What could Harry possibly say – that Snape was completely and utterly wrong? That no one on the Light side was biased and prejudiced in any way? That there wasn’t a chance that some members would want to let Malfoy rot in the Dark Lord’s grasp? He couldn’t, not when he knew how it felt to be feared and thought the worst of just because he spoke to snakes. Not when he saw his fellow Gryffindors automatically sneer at every Slytherin, even the first years.

It wasn’t something he dwelled on often, preferring not to look at the ugly side of many of the people he counted as friends. But it couldn’t be ignored now. Not when someone’s life depended on it.

Did he trust all the Order of Phoenix members to still regard the recruit with the same sympathy and consideration once they knew it was Draco Malfoy? Would he be willing to risk Malfoy’s life on optimism?

Harry already knew the answer.

Sighing heavily, he quietly murmured, “You’re right.”

“I didn’t need you to tell me that. I’m well aware of the kind of people I have to deal with here; I don’t need you counteracting all I have done to insure that Draco gets a fighting chance.”

“So, what do we do?”

“‘We’ don’t do anything. I allow the Order to plan without telling them the identity of the recruit and you keep your mouth shut.” Snape scowled at him heavily, daring him to disagree.

Harry found himself nodding before his froze as he remember one little fact – the vision. “But Professor, you can’t just leave him with Voldemort, not with what he is planning to do with Malfoy! You have to make them come up with a plan quicker!”

The man looked at him intensely and Harry swore he could see a spark of fear in his dark eyes. “I am well aware that my godson is being tortured within an inch of his life, but there is nothing I can do at the moment.”

Harry shook his head in an agitated fashion. “No, you don’t understand.”

Snape’s grim visage became even grimmer. “What did you see?”

“I was – I mean the Dark Lord was planning to…” Harry blushed furiously, trying to find the words for what he had felt in Voldemort’s mind.

“Potter,” the man breathed. “Just what are you saying?”

“Voldemort, he’s o-obsessed. He thinks that Malfoy has some kind of powers that will help him win the war or something. And he –” Harry hesitated once more.

“He what, Potter,” the pale man snapped out impatiently, but Harry could hear the almost frantic edge to his voice.

“He wants t-to touch Malfoy. Like… like…”

“Like what?” Snape nearly yelled out the last comment, obviously fearing for his godson’s life.

Harry decided to be blunt. “He wants Malfoy in a sexual sense – and he’s not above rape.”

The silence in the room was deafening.

TBC

(1) Curatio – This literally means healing in Latin. In this story, it will refer to a specific kind of healing magic that will be explained later as the plot develops. I don’t want to give too much away!

(2) Okay, this might not be something that anyone noticed, but Harry didn’t call Draco by his given name. A lot of writers have them automatically calling each other Harry and Draco, but that just doesn’t seem realistic to me. I know that Draco practically disowned himself from his family with his actions, but at this point Harry still thinks of him as Malfoy. It’s really second nature, not something to read into at the moment. And this might have been a pointless note, but oh well.

Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers!

harrydraco4life – I’m not in control of Voldemort’s actions, honest. *shifts eyes* Lol. Seriously, I won’t let Draco suffer forever. Thanks for the review!

Lilith – I think this chapter answered one of your questions about if knowing it was Draco would affect the rescue effort. While Harry doesn’t care, others in the Order would. *glares at evil Order members* Don’t worry though. Draco will not be with Voldemort forever. Thanks for the feedback!

Jay – I cracked up, your review was hilarious! Things might not go exactly in that fashion, but in general it’ll be something like that. I’m glad that you think I’ve made things more interesting – I’m trying to make things as original as possible in this story. Plenty of stories about Draco being hurt by Death Eaters are on the web. Hopefully mine sticks out a little bit. * Snape (contrite): "He-- *likes* him... he likes him A LOT, actually"* Hahaha! I’m still laughing. Yes, Draco is in a rather bad situation – no one wants Voldemort to be ‘fascinated’ with you. It’s very shudder worthy, lol. Thanks for the review!

Vittani – Wow, I so love your long reviews! I’m serious when I say that this story has a mind of its own – my hands do the typing and then I sit back and say ‘Wow. Now that’s evil.’ Lol. This Voldie/Draco thing even took me by surprise to be honest, but I have to say that I’m satisfied with the outcome. So many authors fail to see Voldemort as a sexual being (eww eww eww can’t believe I typed that) but he’s gotta have some twisted fantasies, right?

Regarding Harry’s sexuality, I thought it was appropriate to have him doubt the Wizarding World’s acceptance of such relationships. It is absent in the books (although one could argue that Sirius/Remus is practically canon). Although Rowling did out Dumbledore after the fact (and wow does that explain a lot) she didn’t during the books. And yes, you are right that it is far more likely that the Wizarding World doesn’t accept homosexuality, but I hate intolerance of any kind. I wanted Harry to struggle a bit with his sexuality – makes it a bit more realistic.

I love writing Draco in this situation and writing creepyndominating Voldemort as well. I like to show desperation, fear, and courage as a combination – it’s a joy to do so. Voldemort is so screwed up that I can write the most demented stuff and still have it fit – it’s so much fun! And let me let you in on something – I have absolutely no idea how I am going to get Draco out of there. Like I said, this story writes itself. I’m as on edge as you are; got a serious case of crap did I write that syndrome.

Yes, I absolutely love tension… it’s the best, lol. And Harry will be very ‘connected’ the recruit by the end of this story. Hehe. Thanks so much for the review, hoped you liked the chapter!

sasukichan – I’m so flattered that you think my story is amazing. Writing the characters as they actually are is very complicated; I have to guess on how they would respond in several situations. I’m happy that you think Severus and Draco are in character. You’re review wasn’t too incoherent, but I’m looking forward to reading the next one!