Dungeons and Portkeys

Title: Dungeons and Portkeys
Email: dragyn_of_pern@yahoo.co.uk
Site: none
Author: Elynsynos
Disclaimer: I don\'t own them nor claim to
Distribution: just merrywizards at the moment
Spoilers: All 5
Summary: Draco catches Harry
Pairings: DM/HP kinda
Rating:R
Author Note: Written for the Merrywizards Secret Santa challenge
2003.
Requested: SS/HP or DM/HP(DM/HP -delivered), romance/humour(romance-delivered),
No special requests
Betaed?: Nope

Warnings: slight BDSM

Notes: I hate Christmas. Therefore Harry gets treated badly. Sorry.



During the past year Harry likes to think he has become quite well informed on prison cells. Between raiding Death Eater hideouts and other dubious locations he has formed quite a comprehensive guide to the different types of dungeons and what’s favoured by their owners.



This had to be a Malfoy prison. Simply because every stone was in pristine condition and exactly the right shade of grey to complement its neighbour. No blood smeared, rat infested, half underwater cells for the highest of the high, only a dainty looking pair of manacles in the shape of coiled snakes. It has of course been neatly spell proofed, which is all the rage now, Harry understands amongst the wealthier Death Eaters. Then there was always the fact that it had been one tall, blonde Slytherin who had handed him the portkey to get here.


Harry’s still kicking himself about that one.


What he doesn’t understand though, is where the victory party’s got to. Because Harry’s always thought of himself as something of a catch, saviour of the wizarding world and all that. But no sinister footsteps have penetrated his stone chamber, no evil cackles of laughter have floated through his walls and now he’s feeling strangely disappointed.


Perhaps Lucius has got lost on his way down to the dungeons, all that time in Azkaban may well have
caused short term memory loss, which in turn may have diffused to Draco. Who has simply forgotten that Harry is here, in his dungeon, waiting to be tortured and getting really rather bored.


Pacing the cell seems to be something that fated prisoners do in their last few minutes before death so Harry leaves that one and stays where he is, comfortably propped in the corner. Crying, battering his fists on the door and trying to strangle himself with the manacles all seem to be a bit over the top. For all he knows the portkey was actually an invitation saying:


Dear Harry,
You are cordially invited,
To play hide and seek.
At: Draco’s House
Date: Today
Time: Now
No reply needed.


But it doesn’t and the doors locked, so no luck there. There’s nothing on the parchment at all infact, no ‘Ha ha Potter, got you good and proper this time’ which would’ve been better because then he’d know where he stood. But then Draco’s been acting a bit weirdly this year, not so many pranks and sneers, especially not since they had what Harry terms as ‘their little talk’ which didn’t go half as well as he’d wanted. He reckons now that Draco was just destined to be evil, he always has looked far too good in black to be one of the good guys.


The opening of the large, stone door takes Harry by surprise, he jumps to his feet pulling his wand out of his robes. The door glides silently on its hinges and Malfoy Senior is standing artistically framed in the doorway. Not lost after all.


“Glad you could make it.” Harry says, still remarkably chirpy for someone who has a useless piece of wood in his right hand and a mortal enemy infront of him.


Lucius doesn’t look like three and a half months in Azkaban has bothered him, his eyes are glinting nastily and Harry reckons what’s coming next might well be revenge. It makes sense now, all that the time he’s spent on his own was Draco communicating the good news to his father.


“Must be inconvenient to be on the run when the enemy’s figurehead appears in your basement.” Might as well throw himself in at the deep end.


“How was Azkaban an? I ? I hear it’s lovely this time of year.”


Lucius comes alive, eyes hardening he strides forward and grabs Harry’s wand. Harry gets in a good kick to the shins and hears Lucius curse. He lunges past him for the door but is grabbed by the back of his robes and thrown carelessly to the wall choking.



Some kind of words whispered with his wand to the door and Lucius smiles. Harry feels magic flare up
behind his back and the cell seems to come alive. He heard hissing and looks frantically around. The
manacles on the wall are no longer stationary, the snakes are crawling towards him, tongues out and tasting the air.


“No.” he whispers and it comes out in Parseltongue. Yes, they hiss back slithering towards him, hold still now.

Harry looks up in horror as Lucius pushes the door shut and laughs as Harry runs over and tries to push it open.

He feels a cool glide of scales on his ankle and kicks out, hoping to crush them but the grip tightens and he almost falls. He tries to head for Lucius but the snakes are on him, sliding
effortlessly up his body. He gives up talking to them and concentrates his energy on moving, he manages one step by slamming his back into
the wall and crushing one of them but they only pause momentarily. He feels the cool grip on his bare skin again as they circle his wrists and then the sickening sensation as they solidify around him.



* * *




Stretching your arms up as high as they’ll go is such a trusting gesture Draco muses as he ts a s a pale finger inside Harry’s elbow. The soft flesh trembles beneath his touch and he wonders if he dug his nail in and then traced the same path whether it would scar.

And he wonders, as he pushes Harry’s arms further
apart with his other hand if Harry even realises the control he’s surrendering. And he looks down at Harry, sprawled on his back, head thrown to the side, curls reflecting light where they’re covered with sweat and wonders if Harry gives over control like this often. And decides he doesn’t
care and pushes his nail into skin. Harry flinches in pain but still doesn’t look up to meet his gaze. But, Draco thinks, why should he? He’s chained to a wall in a cell in the basement of Malfoy Manor all thanks to yours truly; and maybe Draco feels a pinch of guilt but he’s not sure. It’s not something he’s felt that often.



And really, who trusts your age old sworn enemy when he hands you the ‘homework’ you left in class?
Even if that sworn enemy hasn’t made any cutting remarks to you since you came to him with talk of
‘unity’,’hope’ and putting aside facades for a better future. And of course you’d been expecting it at the time, but the sincerity in Harry’s tone was off throwing and for a minute you were tempted. And Draco knows all about temptation, he tends to follow it until he gets what he wants. Which leads him to a barely conscious Harry sprawled bonelessly on a cold dungeon floor after half an hour with his father.



He hasn’t said anything of course. But then they’re saving the Veritaserum for when he’s got a slightly
different audience. Which shouldn’t be long; knowing the nature of the news it will have travelled fast. But the captive won’t be missed for a while yet.



Worry, suspicion, then a full search of Hogsmeade. He could imagine it all, the best friends’ frantic cries, the Headmaster’s soothing appearance, the Aurors’ sudden apparition, all in all the general predictability of the other side.


But the part he can really imagine, the part he really can’t force his mind to forget is the smile on that green-eyed boy’s face when after tapping him on the shoulder in the alleyway between Honeydukes and the Post Office, he’d called him by his first name and handed him the portkey.



And you knew it would work. Knew it would work ever since that night when he found you heading to the
dungeons after dinner. Knew it by the earnest look on his face and the way it fell when you turned and
walked away without saying a word.


And you do wonder if it’s the same boy that’s lying infront of you, that’s just resisted thirty minutes of torture by Lucius Malfoy.


You wonder how he can possibly be so much at the same time as being so little. And you know you’d give a lot to be able to stand what he can. And you think maybe he could use being able to know when people are lying to him.



So maybe, as you take your finger from his arm and watch as he finally raises his head to meet
your gaze you’d make a good team.