Torment

A/N: Hey people, this is my first Harry Potter fic and my first Harry/Draco pairing so please be nice. Hope ya enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other related characters in this fic, they all belong to J.K.Rowlinng and Warner Bros.

Chapter 1: Anger and Pain

Seventeen-year-old Harry Potter awoke with a start. There was someone knocking on his bedroom door. He wearily got up, put on his glasses and pulled open the door. Standing there was a tall skinny woman with blonde hair, Harry’s Aunt Petunia Dursley.
‘Yeah?’ Harry asked as he ran a hand through his shoulder-length dark brown hair. As he pushed his hair back, it revealed a lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead.
‘Vernon wants to talk to you,’ she said.
Harry glanced at his alarm clock. ‘But it’s 1.00 am, what could he possibly want at this time?’ he asked, a bit annoyed at being woken at such an early hour.
‘Just come downstairs,’ she snapped. Harry sighed and moved towards his dressers so he could change out of his pyjamas. ‘Leave it and come down. Now!’ Harry sighed again and went down stairs, wondering what on earth his Uncle could want at this time of night. Harry found his Uncle standing in front of the fire, glaring at a sheet of paper in his hand. Harry cleared his throat and his Uncle rounded on him. Vernon Dursley was a large beefy man with beady grey eyes, a walrus moustache and cropped grey hair. He glared at Harry and moved towards him, shoving the paper under the boy’s nose.
Harry looked up at Vernon, confused. ‘Read it,’ the man hissed. Harry returned his gaze to the paper and recognised Molly Weasely’s handwriting. His confusion grew as he started to read the letter.

Dear Mr Dursley, it read.
We know how you’ve been treating Harry and are sending someone over to collect him soon. If we hear that you have mistreated Harry more, in any way, there will be consequences.
Yours Sincerely,
Molly Weasely.

Harry finished reading the letter and looked up at his Uncle. He could tell that Vernon was seething with rage.
‘So you’ve been telling lies about how we treat you to your friends, eh?’ Vernon spat.
‘No, I haven’t said anything. I don’t know what they’re talking about but I swear I haven’t told them anything,’ Harry said, looking up at his Uncle fearfully.
‘Liar! You’re a filthy disgusting lying freak! You’re lucky we took you in. We’ve fed you, clothed you and this is how you repay us,’ Vernon hissed.
‘Lucky? Lucky that you kept me locked up? Lucky that you treat me like a slave and lucky that you beat me? Yes, I’m really lucky,’ Harry retorted, now just as furious.
‘I will teach you not to speak to me like that,’ his Uncle growled as he wrapped his podgy fingers around Harry’s throat. ‘But maybe I can have some fun with you before I kill you.’
Harry was helpless. He had left his wand upstairs and he couldn’t physically stop Vernon. His Uncle’s grip tightened, restricting his breathing even more. His breath came in short, ragged gasps as his Uncle leered down at him. He felt himself be shoved onto the ground, Vernon hovering over him, pinning him to the floor, with his hands still firmly gripped around Harry’s neck. Harry tried, unsuccessfully, to pry Vernon’s fingers off him but his grip only tightened. Harry was then flipped over onto his stomach and he heard a rattle behind him. He had no idea what it was, well, that was before he felt his pyjama bottoms be ripped down. Harry’s eyes widened in horror as he realised what Vernon was going to do. Oh god, please, no. Don’t, please, Harry begged in his mind. He struggled harder against the man holding him down but it was useless. He felt his Uncle lean down against him, something hard pushing against Harry’s backside and he knew exactly what it was. He struggled harder, until his Uncle’s grip tightened again and black spots burst into Harry’s vision. Harry fell limp, breathing as much as he could, just waiting for what he knew would happen. He didn’t have to wait long. The thing pushing against him moved, pushing itself into Harry. The boy instantly felt a searing heat rush through him along with pain. His Uncle moved again and the pain only worsened. He felt Vernon pull back, only to thrust himself back into Harry as hard as he could. Harry yelled in pain, tears streaming down his face as he dug his hands into the carpet, gripping it tightly. Harry couldn’t believe this was happening. That his Uncle was doing this to him. He felt Vernon thrust into him again and again, each time harder. With each move Harry screamed out in agony. To him, this felt almost as bad as the Cruciatus Curse. He felt a warm liquid run down his leg. Next he heard his Uncle whisper in his ear through his grunts and groans of pleasure.
‘God, I’ve been waiting years to do this,’ he hissed. ‘Ever since you turned thirteen.’ Harry didn’t reply but cried harder. Again he couldn’t believe it. His Uncle was raping him and had just told him that he had been wanting to do it to him since he was thirteen. It was almost too much for him to take.
Suddenly, he felt his Uncle stop moving and then pull out of him. Harry breathed a sigh of relief when Vernon released his grip on Harry’s neck and stood up, believing that his Uncle had finished. Harry pushed himself up onto his knees, gasping and clutching his throat. He looked down at his legs and noticed a stream of blood running down them. He quickly pulled up his trousers and turned to his Uncle, who had also pulled up his trousers. His gaze was then drawn to the door where Vernon was looking. There, standing in horrified shock were Petunia and Dudley Dursley. Harry looked up at them, tears still shinning on his face. He shakily got to his feet, took one last glance at Vernon before dashing past all of them and up the stairs to his bedroom as fast as he could.
When he got there, he pulled out some clothes from the chest of draws. He pulled off his pyjamas and used his wand to incinerate them, which had his blood and his Uncle’s semen all over them. As he pulled on the fresh clothes, in the mirror, he noticed the bruises on his face, neck, chest and back. He sighed; too bad he didn’t know any spells to remove the bruises. He had no idea what he was going to tell his friends. Well, he’d deal with that when the time came, until then, he had to get as far away from 4, Privet Drive as possible. He packed his trunk and then pulled it down the stairs, where he was met with a frightened looking Dudley and a sobbing Petunia.
‘Harry, are you all right?’ Petunia asked through her sobs. Harry was shocked that she cared but then again, it wasn’t everyday that you find out that your husband just raped your nephew. Harry nodded and continued towards the door. ‘Where are you going?’
Harry didn’t even turn around. ‘I’m gonna stay at a friends.’ He was stopped when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.
‘Do you want me to look at those bruises for you?’
Harry smiled sadly at her. ‘Thanks but I can’t stay here any longer.’ She nodded and removed her hand, watching as he opened the door and left, wondering what on earth she was going to do now.

Outside, Harry, since he now had a licence, apparated to the Burrow. When he arrived, it was gone 2.00 am. He hoped someone was still awake. He stepped forward and knocked on the door. A moment later, a light flickered on and the door was pulled open. Harry blinked in the sudden light but when his vision cleared, he saw a ginger haired woman in her dressing gown. Molly Weasely had her wand pointed at Harry but lowered it as soon as she realised who it was.
‘Harry, what are you doing here?’
‘Um… well, I was hoping I could stay here until I go back to Hogwarts. Is that OK?’
‘Of course, come in!’ Harry was pulled inside and was met by three red haired boys, one girl and a man. The youngest boy, Ron, stepped forward.
‘Harry, what happened? You look like hell,’ he said as he noticed the bruises on Harry’s neck and face and the blood seeping through Harry’s trousers. Harry shifted his gaze to the floor and didn’t answer. ‘Harry…? Was it death eaters?’
Harry looked up at Ron and nodded. He didn’t want anyone to know what really happened and Ron just gave him a plausible lie. Mrs Weasely instantly pulled him into a hug and everyone else shared worried glances with each other. Harry was dragged away into the kitchen by Mrs Weasely and everyone else followed.
‘Are you hungry, Harry?’ she asked.
‘Starved,’ he answered as he pulled off his coat. He winced when the material rubbed against his sore neck and Mrs Weasely noticed the wince.
‘We should take care of those bruises first.’ Harry nodded at this and let Mrs Weasely lead him over to the table and sit him down. He was uncomfortably aware that everyone’s eyes were on him. A moment later, Mrs Weasely returned and started to heal his wounds. He felt the bruises on his face and neck heal. ‘Do you have anymore?’ Harry looked down at his chest and then again at Mrs Weasely. ‘It’s OK Harry, just pull your shirt off.’ Harry did as he was told and pulled off his shirt, revealing his well-muscled chest and arms underneath. He heard a small giggle and turned to see Ginny looking him up and down. Harry blushed heavily and turned away again as Mrs Weasely healed his bruises. ‘Anymore?’ Mrs Weasely asked, eyeing Harry’s jeans as he pulled his shirt back on. Harry blushed again and nodded. ‘Right, I’ll leave those for Arthur or one of the boys. When you come back down, your soup should be done.’ Harry stood up and followed Mr Weasely out of the room and up the stairs to one of the bedrooms. He closed the door behind them and turned to face Harry.
‘Are you all right Harry?’ Mr Weasely asked, concerned. Harry looked up, a panicked expression on his face. He quickly changed it into a smile and nodded. ‘Right, well, Harry, could you remove your pants?’ Harry stayed still for a moment but then complied, pulling his jeans down. Mr Weasely knelt down and healed the bruises he could see. ‘Could you turn around?’ Harry turned around and Mr Weasely continued to heal the bruises. ‘Harry?’
‘Yeah?’
‘The bruises go past your boxers, you’re going to have to remove them too.’ Harry kept his back turned and chewed his lip nervously. In the end though, he complied and pulled down his boxers. What Mr Weasely saw made him gasp. There was dried blood coating Harry’s arse and the bruising was as bad as it had been on the boy’s neck.
‘What?’
‘Nothing,’ Mr Weasely said quickly and finished healing the rest of Harry’s bruises and got rid of the dried blood. ‘There, all done.’ Harry didn’t reply, he just pulled up his boxers and jeans and left the room with Mr Weasely close behind. When they went downstairs, they were met with smiling faces and hot soup. Harry could see both Fred and George, they kept looking at him and smiling. He frowned at them as he took his seat again.
‘Hey Harry, with that body up top, I’m sure your just as impressive down under,’ Fred said with a wink as Harry blushed furiously and fixed his gaze on his soup. Mrs Weasely’s reprimanding voice faded out as Harry became lost in his thoughts. What I wouldn’t give to live like this, he thought. To not be the boy-who-lived or the saviour of the wizarding world. To just be normal and happy. If I had been then maybe I’d still have parents and then I wouldn’t have had to live with the Dursley’s. Then Vernon wouldn’t have…
‘Harry dear, are you all right?’ came Mrs Weasely’s voice.
‘Huh… What?’
‘I asked if you were all right.’
‘Oh, yeah, I’m fine,’ Harry replied absently but Mrs Weasely didn’t look convinced.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yeah, hey, can someone show me where I’m sleeping? I’m really tired.’
Ron stood up. ‘I’ll take you, Harry. Night everyone.’ All the Weasely’s said a chorused ‘Night’ and then Ron led Harry up the stairs to his room. Ron opened the door to reveal his bedroom, which was covered in moving Quidditch posters. Ron pointed to the camp bed at the foot of his bed and Harry’s trunk that was next to it, Hedwig hooting happily in her cage.
‘Ron, can I borrow a pair of pyjamas?’
‘What happened to yours?’ Ron asked as he turned to face Harry.
‘They, uh, got ripped,’ Harry said quickly.
Ron nodded. ‘Fine, here you go.’ The redhead threw a pair of drawstring pants at Harry and a stripped t-shirt. Harry caught them, pulled them on and smiled gratefully at Ron even though the clothes were a bit too big. Both Harry and Ron limbed into their beds and Ron flicked the light off.
‘Night Harry,’ came Ron’s voice.
‘Night,’ he replied as his drifted off to sleep.

(A/N: This part is now a dream.)

Harry was back at the Dursley’s with his Uncle before him. His Uncle was seething with rage as Harry read the letter that was shoved under his nose. Both of them shared a few heated words before Vernon snapped and grabbed Harry ‘round the throat.
‘But maybe I can have some fun with you before I kill you,’ Vernon hissed as Harry was forced onto the floor. Harry was flipped over onto his stomach as he heard a rattle behind him as his Uncle undid his pants. Harry’s trousers were then forced down around his legs and he screamed when his Uncle thrust himself into him.

(A/N: Back at the Burrow.)

Harry gave a yelp as he fell off the camp bed. He was breathing heavily and was covered in a thin layer of sweat. Harry sighed when he remembered he was at the Burrow and not at the Dursley’s. He quickly moved his gave towards Ron but it did not appear that he had woken up at Harry’s yell. He got up and made his way to the door, his wand safely in his pocket, intending on getting a drink. It was just a dream, he thought, just a dream. Harry quietly made his way downstairs and headed for the kitchen, when he noticed that the light was on and he could hear voices.
‘What is it?’ came Mrs Weasely’s voice.
‘It’s about Harry,’ said Mr Weasely. Harry frowned at this and took a step closer to the door to hear better.
‘What about Harry?’
‘Well, it’s just that when I was healing the bruises on his legs…’ He paused.
‘What?’
‘The bruises were as bad as the one’s on his throat. It looked like he was raped.’ At that comment, Harry froze and his breath caught in his throat. They know, oh god, they know. Harry heard Mrs Weasely speak but it was lost on his ears. He was too busy thinking about the implications of what would happen since they knew. He couldn’t take it, it was just too much.

Inside the kitchen, Mr and Mrs Weasely were still talking. After Mr Weasely’s statement, Mrs Weasely sank into one of the chairs.
‘Arthur, why, why didn’t he tell us?’
‘Molly please. I think he’s had a hard time and is probably very confused and upset right now. I’m not surprised he didn’t tell us. Some death eater probably raped him. What he needs right now is time.’ Mrs Weasely nodded at this but both were disturbed when they heard a thump outside the door. They both walked out of the kitchen to find Harry, unconscious, outside the door. Mrs Weasely was immediately all over him but Mr Weasely managed to calm her before picking Harry up and laying him down on the couch in the living room. He watched as Harry murmured something but didn’t hear it and sighed. Seventeen is just too young for everything he’s had to deal with, he thought. He quietly left the room, leaving Harry to his sleep.

Later that day, Harry awoke with a yell. He’d had the same dream as earlier and it got worse as it progressed. When he opened his eyes, he was met with the worried faces of the Weasely family, apart from Bill, Charlie and Percy. Harry sat up and rubbed his eyes.
‘Where’re my glasses?’ he asked. Ginny picked them up from a nearby table and handed them to Harry. He smiled at her gratefully as he put them on. Instantly, the faces before him became clearer.
‘Are you all right Harry, you were yelling?’ Mr Weasely asked.
Harry rubbed his face tiredly. ‘Yeah, I… I just had a bad dream.’ Everyone nodded and Mr and Mrs Weasely then asked everyone else if they could leave. There were many complaints but, eventually, they did leave. Unknown to the three in the room, Fred and George were handing out Extendable Ears so they could eves drop.
Meanwhile, in the room, Mr and Mrs Weasely were glancing at Harry awkwardly and then each other. Harry was watching them, confused. He was wondering what they wanted to talk about that couldn’t be said in front of everyone else.
‘Harry… Did you hear what we said in the kitchen last night?’ Mr Weasely asked timidly. Harry instantly remembered what he had overheard and what they had figured out. Harry turned away and didn’t answer. ‘Harry?’
The boy sighed and gave a mumbled ‘Yes’. Mr and Mrs Weasely both shared an uneasy glance.
‘Harry, what we said, is it true?’ Mrs Weasely asked softly. Harry didn’t answer but instead left the room as quickly as he could, Mr and Mrs Weasely’s voices, saying for him to come back, fading. When he opened the door, he was surprised to see the rest of the Weasely’s eves dropping. They looked at him curiously but he ignored them and dashed up to Ron’s room where he plopped himself down on the camp bed. A minute later, the door opened and Ron entered.
‘Harry mate, I’m sorry we eves dropped but what were my parents going on about? What happened?’ he asked.
‘You don’t want to know,’ Harry muttered.
‘But Harry…’
‘Just leave it, Ron,’ Harry snapped, turning towards the other boy. Ron looked worriedly at Harry. He was Harry’s best friend and neither of them had ever kept any secrets so whatever happened must have been bad. Ron turned around and left the room, leaving Harry to his thoughts.

A/N: There we go, chapter one. Please be nice and review.