Breaking Forwards

Chapter Eight – A New Awareness

It hadn't been much of a chore to lift the underweight boy and put him to bed in his guest bedroom. The lad was exhausted and had barely made a face with Severus had made him drink a vial of Dreamless sleep. Merlin only knew what sorts of horrible things would be floating around the teen's subconscious that night after the kind of evening that had just occurred.

On the other hand, Severus knew that it was pointless for himself to even attempt sleeping before having a chance to think through the many things the child had informed him of—deliberately and not.

And if calling him "Harry" hadn't been bad enough, he had also started thinking of him as "the child," as well. He couldn't even be bothered to roll his eyes at himself, for there were far more serious things to focus on now.

Severus swore under his breath and paced the room as he sought to regain control of his anger. He couldn't help the boy if he were locked away in Azkaban for killing his wretched excuse for a family—let alone the damned creation of a man called Sirius Black.

He had never liked the other man, but he would not have thought him possible of such a thing as rape, and never in a million years would he have thought he would purposely harm his own beloved godson.

Of course, as Harry was quickly teaching him, Severus's beliefs were in serious need of a complete and total overhaul. As of late, it was quite believable that the impossible could in fact be true; even if it was a miserable and shameful truth that made his gut boil with anger.

And James, he brooded darkly to himself, could it have been true that James had been involved in an illicit affair with the mutt on the side? Could he really bring himself to believe that the bastard had been cheating on his sweet Lily?

He flopped on his couch and put his head in his hands dejectedly. He couldn't help but believe the boy; the truth was far too evident in the lad's desperate eyes. He knew that Lily had believed in James's change in character, chalking it up to his increased age and subsequent maturity, but Severus hadn't been as convinced. He knew that Lupin had felt similarly, for they each had separately watched James and Black quietly for some time. The wolf had even attempted to speak with him once on it, but their—surprisingly civil—conversation had been interrupted by that damned mutt.

And then it was too late, he thought somberly to himself, as the flood of memories washed back over him from that awful Halloween night where Voldemort had attempted to extract his revenge on the Potter family.

Because of me was his additional thought as his eyes began to burn with the shame of that night—that entire wasted segment of his life.

It was his fault that the boy had been forced to grow up alone and at the mercy of his contemptible uncle. It only seemed fitting that he be the one to help put the child back together.

Softly, he crept back into the boy's room and sank down into the chair next to the bed. Even asleep, and with a sleeping potion in his system, the lad still looked troubled. Severus noted with displeasure that Harry was sleeping with his back against the wall, his body curled into a tiny defensive ball.

It was the observation of this position that broke any remaining doubts lingering in Severus's mind. Harry's sleeping form was reminiscent of a certain dark haired youngster in his own past, and after that evening's revelations, the similarities were quite striking.

And damning, was the morose thought that passed through his mind as he watched the boy sleep.

How could I have been so blind—so stupid as to put my damned prejudices above the suffering of Lily's only child? He railed internally against himself.

He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes wearily. There were a great many things weighing on his conscious now, but none of those could easily be dealt with until morning.

Except killing Black, he thought, but that was something that would have to be dealt with very carefully and from a distance to boot. It was quite evident that he was the only adult left in Harry's life who could be trusted to do right by the boy, and so it was necessary that he keep himself largely out of trouble, if only for the sake of the child.

. . .

Dumbledore was not sleeping well that night either. Three am found him pacing his office in only his nightclothes and slippers, his mind awhirl with many problems and concerns surrounding young Harry Potter.

He had been serious when he had told Severus that he feared they might be losing the young man. Try as he might, he could not get the Gryffindor's angry and bitter eyes to stop staring at him from within his own mind.

After all the time I have spent with the Dursleys, I can certainly understand how the Dark Lord feels in regards to Muggles.

Harry's words played back repeatedly through his mind, and he sought to get past the pain in his heart that they caused him.

When I reach my majority, you can bet that I'm going to pay them a visit.

Well, the boy had left very little to the imagination about what he meant by that.

"And are you willing to become a murderer in order to attain your vengeance?" He muttered to himself, stroking Fawkes as he did. The bird looked at him with sorrowful eyes. Fawkes had likely seen the pain surrounding the young man better than he had.

Perhaps he should have another chat with Severus in order to see how the lad was doing with the man's detention. After all, he had told him to keep an eye on the boy, and he knew that despite the enmity that existed between the two, Severus would obey his request to the letter.

After all, Albus was not the only one with guilt over the actions of his past.

. . .

Unlike his brothers and sister, Ron actively enjoyed the "chore" of removing the gnomes from their yard. However, it had not always been so. When he had been younger and smaller, they had scared him dreadfully with their leering ugly faces and fearful teeth. His nearly paralyzing fear had lasted until he discovered a way to scare them back just as much—if not more.

In the wizarding world, much like the muggle world, the concept of an "eye for an eye" was not unknown. Although wizarding beings often chose to retaliate with magical means instead of physical, the idea was still very similar.

On the other hand, what Ron did to get back at the gnomes was very muggle—rather plebian, as Draco Malfoy would undoubtedly say if he were asked for his opinion on the matter.

He remembered that day quite well. It had been blazing hot, and the gnomes had been more daring in their pursuits after him all that entire afternoon. Finally though, one had gotten a little too close to his hand and he had grabbed it up. But instead of throwing it up and around—as his brothers had undoubtedly taught him to do by that point—he had held onto it.

Oh, it had tried to get away; shooting him nasty looks and screeching mean things to him, but he had chosen not to be cowed by its frightful nature anymore. And in order to prove that, he had set up a bit of a demonstration to its fellow gnomes.

"See this?" He had bellowed out quite loudly a good bit away from the house. He had shown the crowd of angry muttering gnomes their fellow compatriot that was locked tight in his hot and sweaty little boy grip.

They had cursed at him as he had known they would. They had raised up their little fists to him and had snarled and bared their teeth at him. And he had ignored them and gone ahead with his plan; calmly ripping the little gnome's arm off right in front of them. He had thrown it at them, and they had scattered before it, as though it were some kind of accursed thing.

He had won against them, and it had been a heady feeling.

Ron had spent most of his life knowing what exactly he wasn't. He wasn't extremely talented at Quidditch; he wasn't particularly popular amongst his brothers or family, especially since being one of the youngest in a family of stars had a tendency to wash out any of his own rather meager accomplishments; he wasn't particularly funny; he wasn't a jokester, or even particularly book smart. He couldn't even be the bloody youngest; no that spot was taken up by Ginny, the only girl out of the lot of them.

But being known among the gnomes as the redheaded child to watch out for, well that counted for something in his book. His own peers—such as they were—might not care for him beyond using him as a guinea pig in their experiments, but he was the boy who had frightened those fearsome creatures that stalked their garden and their yard.

Him.

. . .

"Colin," Ron said, coming right up behind the small, mousey haired boy, causing him to jump in surprise. Luckily they were in the far back corner of the library, and there was no one else around them.

Still though, Ron thought ruefully. I'll have to punish him for that later.

"What happened to having 'eyes in the back of your head,' there Col'?" He teased the younger boy a bit more grumpily than he normally did, before sitting down in the chair directly beside him.

Colin looked at him warily, already aware of the change in Ron's typical demeanor.

"Sorry Ron. I was studying for my Potions quiz," the younger boy said in an apologetic tone.

"The slimy git," Ron groused darkly.

"Yeah," Colin said in a quiet voice.

"Have you seen Potter?"

"Not since breakfast." He answered quickly as Ron's frown turned into a full glower.

"Bloody hell. Where the fuck is that bastard hiding?" He bitched in a soft voice.

Colin didn't answer. There didn't seem to be any kind of answer that would satisfy the much larger boy beside him.

"You haven't heard anything about Hermione, have you?" Ron said abruptly, peering a bit more closely than Colin would have liked.

"Why? Has something happened to her?" He asked in a neutral voice, trying to make his normally quavering tones into something a regular fourteen year old would produce.

Ron looked at him for a full minute before jerking the smaller boy closer to him. Colin was on the edge of his seat, practically in the fifth year's lap. Ron released the front of his robes with one hand and trailed it down to the front of Colin's trousers.

Colin felt his breath catching in his throat as he tried not to jerk away from those invasive probing fingers.

"What have you heard?" Ron growled at him, ignoring the squeak Colin made as his nuts were grabbed in a brutal hold.

"J-Just that she's n-n-not been much l-like she usually is, I swear! Please Ron," he begged softly, not giving voice to the pain that begun clogging his throat with tears.

"My room, tonight," were Ron's tersely given orders, before he released the smaller boy, dropping him to the floor in an undignified heap.

He stood up and walked away without even looking to see if the other boy had gotten back up.

HSHSHS

Harry awoke the next morning in an unfamiliar, but comfortable bed. It took him a moment to remember why he was there, and then a moment more to recall why it was that he felt so very at ease.

He glanced over to the side of the bed and wasn't entirely surprised to see his potion's professor propped there in a chair with a potion's journal balanced on his knee. The man's eyes were closed though, and he wondered if that meant the man was actually asleep or just waiting to scare the hell out of him.

Probably the latter, he thought with rare amusement as he gently stretched out his body.

The previous night's memories chose that instance to flood his mind, and he closed his eyes tightly against the shame of everything he had admitted aloud.

"Awake then are you?" A voice broke into his memories.

"Yes, sir," he said quickly, turning his head to peer carefully at the man at his bedside.

His professor stared back at him, an equally careful expression on his face.

"How do you feel?"

How did he feel? No nightmares had plagued him that night because of the dreamless sleep he barely remembered Snape giving him, and to top it all off, he had slept in a bed without fear from being attacked!

"I feel remarkably good, sir," he said in a slow voice, carefully glancing around the bedroom they were in.

There were no knickknacks on the walls or on the table next to the bed, but he hadn't really expected a man like his professor to bother with such trivialities. Surprisingly, the bed's décor was not all black, and instead, he was interested to note that it was a mix of dark shades of green and blue.

Abruptly, he wondered whose bed he was lying in.

Snape must have caught his wandering look around him.

"No, Mr. Potter," he smirked before continuing. "This is merely a spare bedroom that I keep in my quarters for times of need."

"It's really nice," Harry whispered, suddenly overwhelmingly shy. He felt tears fogging his eyes, but for the life of him couldn't figure out why now of all times he should feel such an emotional pull at his heart.

Merely a spare bedroom for times of need, he thought back over his professor's words. Was that all there was to it?

Spare bedroom, he thought again, only to be roused from his steadily darkening thoughts by the sudden appearance of a handkerchief in front of his face. Once more he was glad that Blaise had brewed that Eyesight corrective potion for him. Otherwise his reception of the handkerchief might have been less than positive.

He took the cloth and hastily wiped his eyes with it before looking back at his professor.

The man was still seated in the same place, and his expression was still unfathomable, but as Harry looked into his eyes, he felt that there was a certain amount of—what?—commiseration, or possibly even understanding?

"Thanks for all of this," he said quickly, waving his hand around vaguely. "And I appreciate your allowing me to stay here last night." He ducked his head again and stared intensely at his fingers and the handkerchief that surrounded them.

"I hardly would have cast you out into the hallways, Harry," the man said in a deep voice.

He couldn't make himself look up. Why couldn't he just look up?

"Well, thanks anyway, for not, you know, um," he said, before realizing that he was rambling.

The mattress beside him dipped and he had to fight against his urge to flinch as his professor sat down on the bed next to him.

"Where will you go after today? Back to your dorm? Back to the hallways?"

"Hallways are safer than my dorm, sir," he answered quietly, still not daring to look up.

"And McGonagall cannot help?" Snape's voice was soft, breaking easily through his hard defenses.

"No sir," he answered, not bothering to explain how little his head of house understood regarding his treatment within the dorm.

A slightly uncomfortable silence followed with a surprising question, "Have you been seen by Madam Pomfrey?"

"Sir?" He asked in an uncertain voice, peering up finally.

"I cannot, in good conscience, release you back into Minerva's care," here he noticed a brief twist of the potions master's lips, "If you are still suffering from injuries; especially if they are leftover from this past summer."

Did the man actually know? Or was this just a bizarre scheme of his to purposely keep Harry around longer?

Given his options, there really wasn't much of a choice beyond telling the truth. And why not? He had already given up his most embarrassing secrets, and he hadn't been turned away yet.

"Well?" Snape asked with a look that could have been much sharper, considering the circumstances.

"I—," he began, and taking a breath, he pushed on through his fear quickly. "I have not been seen by her, no."

Snape seemed almost pleased, but Harry understood that it had more to do with his trusting the truth with him, not because the other man had been right.

"It seems that you may have just earned yourself a longer stay here. Do try and not misbehave," the man warned. Although his tone was stern, the look on his face was somehow softer and Harry let out a shaky breath at seeing it.

Whatever happened was going to happen, but this time, he wasn't going to be alone.

It was a nice thought.

HSHSHSHS

Dub con/non con warning

Ron was already lying on his bed with the bed curtains drawn when Colin made it there that night. After battling with the unfamiliar heavy curtains, Colin was now perched on his knees in front of him; a terrified look on his white face making him look even younger than he was.

"Undress me." Ron barked after casting a silencing spell.

"Ron, please!" The other boy begged piteously, wringing his hands together.

"Undress me," Ron said in a much lower voice, his eyes glinting malevolently in the dim light.

"I already apologized, Ron, a couple of dozen times over," the boy protested, even though his small nimble fingers had already started undoing the buttons on the front of the red haired teen's robes.

"Yes, but you don't really mean it, do you? You still think the great fucking Harry Potter is going to notice you and become someone who you can be 'best of chums with,'" Ron mimicked in a high falsetto while fluttering his eyelashes ridiculously.

Colin wouldn't meet his eyes anymore, although his cheeks were flaming bright red in response from Ron's words.

"Well he's not, so it's time to get used to how life really is!" He yelled, mostly just to see the other boy's responding flinch.

Ron's little speech had given the fourteen year old time to undo all of the fastenings on Ron's clothes. In turn, Ron made quick work of pulling off the offending fabrics and allowing the other boy to feast fully on the image of his naked body.

Colin was in for a treat that night. Before, Ron had only required blow jobs out of the other boy, but tonight he was planning to pop his cherry.

Ron thought that Colin was a smart boy who understood what it meant to try and pick the winning team whenever possible. It was a smart choice, since if Ron was going to break into a spotlight of his own that year, it would require kicking Harry fucking Potter down a few dozen notches.

The first thing to do was to get rid of the Harry Potter fans, and one of the worst resided right there in the Gryffindor tower. Turn everyone against Potter and no one gets hurt—much. However, Colin was a special case, because Ron had discovered quite by accident how the smaller boy had been spending his evenings.

Although it hadn't been Ron's intention to round the corner and find the other boy on his knees before Lee Jordan, it had still happened, and Ron was nothing if not thrifty.

Besides, Colin really did annoy the utter piss out of Ron, and he would be glad if he could shut the other boy up once in a while by teaching him how to better use that mouth of his.

Ron didn't take the time to undress the other boy himself, but stripped him with a spell instead, much to the sudden mortification of the older Creevey boy. He grinned openly as Colin tried to hide his groin with his hands.

"Ron!" Colin's eyes were nearly as wide open as butterbeer caps.

"Shh," he said calmly, sitting up and pushing Colin underneath him with a firm but gentle thrust of his hand.

Mmm, thrust, his mind tried to jump off the tracks at that one.

"You never said anything about taking it any further!" The boy under him accused in a frightened voice as Ron straddled his hips; tightening his legs around the smaller body in such a way that Colin would be hard pressed to get free.

His dick was responding just the way he wanted it to. The tip was already oozing with pre-cum, and he was increasing the sensations by dragging it up and down the length of Colin's torso—marking him with his scent.

As he leaned down to kiss the boy on his pale soft neck, Colin suddenly surged up with a fury, physically trying to throw him off.

"I don't want to do this! No! Let me go!"

Ron didn't respond, but quickly caught the boy's thrashing arms with a hand and then magically tied them to his bed posts.

"NO! Help!" The other boy cried out in vain, forgetting about the silencing spell that was firmly in place around him.

Ron ignored him and began suckling the sweet skin just below the boy's ear, all the while running his hands up and down the boy's thin chest.

"You're very pretty when you're flushed like this," he whispered seductively in the other teen's ear. He had chosen his words purposely, knowing that they would incite the younger Gryffindor even farther.

"Please Ron!" Colin begged in his ear, even as he began dragging light kisses over the other boy's soft face.

"Should I invite Dennis?" Ron said with a hard look at the other boy's terrified expression.

"No," was Colin's harsh and strangled whisper.

"Does that mean you'll be good for me?" He asked, moving his hand down between them to fondle the other Gryffindors soft penis into a semi-alert state.

Colin only moaned in response, but it was good enough for Ron.

The only time he spoke after that was right after Ron had finished stretching him, as he had the tip of his cock pressed against his arse hole, ready to fuck him.

"Will it hurt?" The boy's voice trembled in fear.

"Not if you make me happy," Ron grunted, before sliding his slicked penis into the other boy's virgin hole with a slow motion that made them both feel like screaming—although for very different reasons.

He had released the other teen's hands and turned him over on his stomach. He even had had enough pity to put a pillow beneath his thin hips, but he was feeling his patience wane now in the tight heat that now surrounded his most sensitive organ. He moaned at the feeling—it was even more exquisite than fucking Hermione had been.

Colin was a skinny whelp of a boy and Hermione was a fully—or nearly—formed girl. She simply had more space within her than Colin did, and Ron could feel it as the tightness fully enveloped him, further disconnecting him from his rational mind.

"Stay as relaxed as you can," he ordered in a hoarse voice. "It helps if you remember to push out," he added as his eyes fought to roll back in his head.

And then the fucking began in earnest as he began to pull and push his dick back and forth in the silky encompassing wetness that was the smaller boy's beautiful, succulent arse hole. He ignored the high pitched shrieks that Colin was now making as he increased the speed of his thrusts.

"You feel fucking fantastic Col'," he said in a distant voice. He put his hands under the other boy's shoulders, using the extra leverage to fuck deeper, causing a sheen of sweat to break out over both of their pale bodies.

Ron didn't care about Potter at this point. He didn't care that if news of this ever got out, he'd be expelled and probably sent to Azkaban—not to mention dishonoring his family in the process. All he knew was that he needed Colin now, and he needed to cum before his body exploded with the sensations pouring up and out from his dick.

The feeling had begun building as while he had been fingering the boy, but now as the friction built up around him, and the heat only increased, the sound of the their bodies thrusting together was only somewhat muffled by the harsh sounds of their gasping breaths. And then Ron was holding his breath as he urged his body to reach the climax inside Colin's still tight, ever spasming arse hole. He pulled the other boy's body securely up against his in nearly an upright position; feeling more than hearing the scream that the new position caused Colin to let out; and then he joined the boy in his shaking as he felt his orgasm rip itself from his body as his cock shot cum into his heated depths.

And then he was easing himself from the now damp hole of Colin's no longer virgin arse, turning them both on their sides on the sullied bedspread. His fingers blindly grabbed his wand and he whispered a cleaning spell, feeling the relief of the mess around them disappear into nothingness. He pulled the covers down with one hand, but kept his other firmly around the stomach and chest of the still weeping Colin.

His mind reflected on the memory that the boy has been weeping for some time, but it did not bother him that he had only just noticed. Colin was just a pawn—albeit a fuckable pawn—but still not much more than that.

"Now are you sorry?" He whispered when he had them firmly ensconced in the nest of the many blankets covering his soft bed.

The boy in his arms nodded his head with a ferociousness that he thought more likely due to the shame he felt for himself than anything about his further awe of Harry Potter.

It was of no matter to Ron.

Colin's lesson will be learned soon enough, he thought placidly to himself as he put his arms more firmly around the living, breathing doll lying here next to him in his bed.

He would fuck him again in the morning, and then again that next evening.

And then he would do the same to his brother; promises be damned. Perhaps he should invite Seamus for that event as well.

These were the thoughts that lulled him to sleep that night; providing him with a small smile permanently fixed on his face even in the midst of his dreams.

For his part, Colin lay there quietly, not moving, but not sleeping either. He was making his own plans, but he was going to need help, and he didn't yet know who he could trust enough to turn to.