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Broken Souls
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Harry/Ginny
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
2
Views:
11,759
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Harry/Ginny
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
2
Views:
11,759
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
Harry Potter does NOT belong to me, I don't make any money from this. If you really thought the opposite for a moment, then you need HELP!
Broken Souls
Summary: The war left him empty inside, and everyday his soul broke a little more. That was to be his punishment and he knew it, was willing to take it even. And then he met her.
A/N: I really don't know where I'm going with this, but I'll let you know as soon as I find out! ^_^
Broken Souls
Chapter one.
&&&&&
Harry stormed out of the pub. He didn’t know what he was thinking when agreed to meet with Ron and Hermione here. He should have known they wouldn’t just have a few drinks and have a good time. It was always the same. Hermione wanted him to talk, open up to them, tell them about his death, about what happened before Voldemort killed him.
“Why can’t she bloody get in to her head that I don’t want to talk about it.” He hissed under his breath as he ducked into an alley, ignoring his best friends running after him and calling his name, and with an angry and loud noise apparated away.
He appeared in a small, empty flat and threw himself in a couch in the middle of the room. They wouldn’t bother him here, the wards wouldn’t let anyone else but him in. He sighed in relief. It wasn’t that he didn’t want his friends any more, but he couldn’t, didn’t want to tell them about his final moments, and they wouldn’t just let him be. He knew they were just worried, and he’d tried to tell them he would be fine…even though he knew he would never be.
After a few minutes he fell into a restless sleep.
&&&&&
“We have to do something Ron!” Hermione yelled. She was pacing in the middle of the Burrow’s living room. Ron was glad there wasn’t anyone else home, as he didn’t want his mother to overhear this conversation.
“But what Hermione!?” Ron sighed. “Don’t you see he doesn’t want us to help!” And it was true. After the final battle Harry had pulled away from them. It was almost as if a part of him had died. His eyes were cold all the time and he didn’t want to be around anyone. Voldemort had taken pleasure in rubbing in their faces how, Harry, whose dead body laid in Hagrid’s arms, had died in pain, how he had begged him to make the pain stop, to just kill him. Deep down they all knew it was a lie that Harry hadn’t died begging, but after it was all over and Voldemort was dead it was obvious that he had been tortured first. And whatever they did to him had left him broken.
“We have to help him before he does something stupid!” The bushy haired girl exclaimed. “Ron, that look in his eyes…he doesn’t want to be here any more.”
“What do you mean? You think he wants to leave the country or something?” Ron frowned.
He didn’t want his best mate to leave. He had already lost a brother to the war, and he didn’t want to lose another. And Harry was his brother. Red hair or not, the moment he arrived at the Burrow the summer before their second year, Harry had become the seventh Weasley child.
If he left, Ron knew, his mother wouldn’t be able to take it if she lost yet another child. His mother, who had been so sad for so many years before Harry came along, had taken him in and found a new purpose in taking care of him and was always happy to have him visit every summer, would break if he abandoned them. She had lost so much already, Ron didn’t have memories of this but Bill told him once that they had had a little sister and she had been only a few months old when Death Eaters had attacked the Burrow and taken her. They never found her again and assumed her to be dead. And then years later when the family needed him most Percy had left them, choosing a corrupt ministry over his own family. And now that he had returned to them…Fred…Fred was dead and Harry didn’t want to be around them any more.
“No Ron, I don’t mean he’s leaving the country.” She said shaking her head. Her eyes were wet with tears.
“Then what are you taking about?” Asked Ron confused.
“I mean that…I-Ron I think he wants to die.”
&&&&&
He ran as fast as he could. He could feel the blood trickling down his body, the cold snow and his lack of clothing were starting to make his limbs feel numb, but he had to keep running… he had to get away from them. Deep down, however, he knew they were just playing a game with him. They wouldn’t just let him go like that, they would let him run just to stop him right before he could reach the gate, still he kept running. He at least had to try.
He was approaching the end of the forest, he could almost see the gate that would lead him out of this damned place.
Just a few more feet! He was almost-
Suddenly, five black clothed figures apparated in front of him. Despite their masks he could tell they were sneering at him, mocking him for actually thinking he could get away.
Before he could react, two of the figures grabbed him by the arms, their grips everything but gentle. A third black figure stepped in front of him and with a mocking voice said. “You really thought you could escape us?” The man snorted and hit him in the face before continuing. “Thought you were smarter than we are, didn't you!? How unfortunate that you don't have your power any more, maybe then you would have had a chance to heat things up a bit for us.”
The other men's laughter rang in his ears.
“..Oh well, it doesn't really matter, after all, there are other ways to do that. Let us try some of them, yeah?”
The man's eyes widened in horror as he heard the sound of a zipper behind him.
“No...”
“No, you say?” Said one of the men. “Don't worry. We'll be gentle.” As soon as he finished, the two of the men holding him pushed him to the ground, his chest pressed against the cold snow. “Or maybe not.” He said chuckling, as one of his companions grabbed the naked man's legs easily spreading them apart despite his struggles, and rubbed his erect member against his opening.
The man continued his attempts to get free, only to find himself howling in pain as one of the Death Eaters pressing him to the floor aimed a kick to his side, the sound of bones breaking echoing in the air. “Stop moving Half-breed!” The Death Eater yelled at him, grabbing him by his red hair and slamming his face to the ground. Meanwhile, his fellow Death Eater kept rubbing his cock against the whimpering man.
The black cloaked man, who had spoken first, had pulled his own erection out and stroked himself slowly as he walked closer. “Enough, Anthony. Let's put his face to better use.” He sneered. As soon as he said this the one behind the red haired man, slammed his length into his hole.
He had never known pain like this before. Nothing. Not the torture they inflicted on him the previous days, nor the broken bones, nothing hurt like this. This, was pure agony. He felt like his body was been ripped in two. As he tried to scream, he found his mouth filled with the another's man meat.
The only sounds in the forest that night, were the red head's muffled screams as his holes were abused over and over again.
&&&&&
Harry woke up, his clothes damp with sweat and his body shaking, and stood from the couch. He walked into the small kitchen and headed straight to the cupboard taking out a bottle of Gin, which for some reason affected him more with a few sips, than half a bottle of Fire whiskey. He pulled out a glass and poured the beverage in it, with just a sip he could already feel the warm tingle spreading through his body. Walking back to the living room, he sat in the couch again.
This was his ritual, the only way he could stop the cold, if only for a little while.
Harry closed his eyes. It had been the same man again. He had had other dreams before, usually of everyone who died in the war. Images would flash in his mind. Every detail of every, death, torture and rape committed by Death Eaters during the war. He had known some of them, however, most of the victims he had never seen before, and yet, every single one of them hurt just the same, after all, it was his fault.
This man, however, had been a recurrent one. Not the dream itself, as it was always different, but it was almost like a film. There was a story there, something behind the scenes that Harry felt was important, but he often forgot during the agony he felt while the Death Eaters tortured the man. He felt it as if it was his own body, sometimes he would even wake up to find his body covered by wounds. Harry wondered if that was his punishment for getting all those people killed...to feel with his own body everything they went through. He knew certainly deserved it. Harry sighed. He could feel the cold coming back already.
He brought the glass back to his lips.
A/N: I really don't know where I'm going with this, but I'll let you know as soon as I find out! ^_^
Broken Souls
Chapter one.
&&&&&
Harry stormed out of the pub. He didn’t know what he was thinking when agreed to meet with Ron and Hermione here. He should have known they wouldn’t just have a few drinks and have a good time. It was always the same. Hermione wanted him to talk, open up to them, tell them about his death, about what happened before Voldemort killed him.
“Why can’t she bloody get in to her head that I don’t want to talk about it.” He hissed under his breath as he ducked into an alley, ignoring his best friends running after him and calling his name, and with an angry and loud noise apparated away.
He appeared in a small, empty flat and threw himself in a couch in the middle of the room. They wouldn’t bother him here, the wards wouldn’t let anyone else but him in. He sighed in relief. It wasn’t that he didn’t want his friends any more, but he couldn’t, didn’t want to tell them about his final moments, and they wouldn’t just let him be. He knew they were just worried, and he’d tried to tell them he would be fine…even though he knew he would never be.
After a few minutes he fell into a restless sleep.
&&&&&
“We have to do something Ron!” Hermione yelled. She was pacing in the middle of the Burrow’s living room. Ron was glad there wasn’t anyone else home, as he didn’t want his mother to overhear this conversation.
“But what Hermione!?” Ron sighed. “Don’t you see he doesn’t want us to help!” And it was true. After the final battle Harry had pulled away from them. It was almost as if a part of him had died. His eyes were cold all the time and he didn’t want to be around anyone. Voldemort had taken pleasure in rubbing in their faces how, Harry, whose dead body laid in Hagrid’s arms, had died in pain, how he had begged him to make the pain stop, to just kill him. Deep down they all knew it was a lie that Harry hadn’t died begging, but after it was all over and Voldemort was dead it was obvious that he had been tortured first. And whatever they did to him had left him broken.
“We have to help him before he does something stupid!” The bushy haired girl exclaimed. “Ron, that look in his eyes…he doesn’t want to be here any more.”
“What do you mean? You think he wants to leave the country or something?” Ron frowned.
He didn’t want his best mate to leave. He had already lost a brother to the war, and he didn’t want to lose another. And Harry was his brother. Red hair or not, the moment he arrived at the Burrow the summer before their second year, Harry had become the seventh Weasley child.
If he left, Ron knew, his mother wouldn’t be able to take it if she lost yet another child. His mother, who had been so sad for so many years before Harry came along, had taken him in and found a new purpose in taking care of him and was always happy to have him visit every summer, would break if he abandoned them. She had lost so much already, Ron didn’t have memories of this but Bill told him once that they had had a little sister and she had been only a few months old when Death Eaters had attacked the Burrow and taken her. They never found her again and assumed her to be dead. And then years later when the family needed him most Percy had left them, choosing a corrupt ministry over his own family. And now that he had returned to them…Fred…Fred was dead and Harry didn’t want to be around them any more.
“No Ron, I don’t mean he’s leaving the country.” She said shaking her head. Her eyes were wet with tears.
“Then what are you taking about?” Asked Ron confused.
“I mean that…I-Ron I think he wants to die.”
&&&&&
He ran as fast as he could. He could feel the blood trickling down his body, the cold snow and his lack of clothing were starting to make his limbs feel numb, but he had to keep running… he had to get away from them. Deep down, however, he knew they were just playing a game with him. They wouldn’t just let him go like that, they would let him run just to stop him right before he could reach the gate, still he kept running. He at least had to try.
He was approaching the end of the forest, he could almost see the gate that would lead him out of this damned place.
Just a few more feet! He was almost-
Suddenly, five black clothed figures apparated in front of him. Despite their masks he could tell they were sneering at him, mocking him for actually thinking he could get away.
Before he could react, two of the figures grabbed him by the arms, their grips everything but gentle. A third black figure stepped in front of him and with a mocking voice said. “You really thought you could escape us?” The man snorted and hit him in the face before continuing. “Thought you were smarter than we are, didn't you!? How unfortunate that you don't have your power any more, maybe then you would have had a chance to heat things up a bit for us.”
The other men's laughter rang in his ears.
“..Oh well, it doesn't really matter, after all, there are other ways to do that. Let us try some of them, yeah?”
The man's eyes widened in horror as he heard the sound of a zipper behind him.
“No...”
“No, you say?” Said one of the men. “Don't worry. We'll be gentle.” As soon as he finished, the two of the men holding him pushed him to the ground, his chest pressed against the cold snow. “Or maybe not.” He said chuckling, as one of his companions grabbed the naked man's legs easily spreading them apart despite his struggles, and rubbed his erect member against his opening.
The man continued his attempts to get free, only to find himself howling in pain as one of the Death Eaters pressing him to the floor aimed a kick to his side, the sound of bones breaking echoing in the air. “Stop moving Half-breed!” The Death Eater yelled at him, grabbing him by his red hair and slamming his face to the ground. Meanwhile, his fellow Death Eater kept rubbing his cock against the whimpering man.
The black cloaked man, who had spoken first, had pulled his own erection out and stroked himself slowly as he walked closer. “Enough, Anthony. Let's put his face to better use.” He sneered. As soon as he said this the one behind the red haired man, slammed his length into his hole.
He had never known pain like this before. Nothing. Not the torture they inflicted on him the previous days, nor the broken bones, nothing hurt like this. This, was pure agony. He felt like his body was been ripped in two. As he tried to scream, he found his mouth filled with the another's man meat.
The only sounds in the forest that night, were the red head's muffled screams as his holes were abused over and over again.
&&&&&
Harry woke up, his clothes damp with sweat and his body shaking, and stood from the couch. He walked into the small kitchen and headed straight to the cupboard taking out a bottle of Gin, which for some reason affected him more with a few sips, than half a bottle of Fire whiskey. He pulled out a glass and poured the beverage in it, with just a sip he could already feel the warm tingle spreading through his body. Walking back to the living room, he sat in the couch again.
This was his ritual, the only way he could stop the cold, if only for a little while.
Harry closed his eyes. It had been the same man again. He had had other dreams before, usually of everyone who died in the war. Images would flash in his mind. Every detail of every, death, torture and rape committed by Death Eaters during the war. He had known some of them, however, most of the victims he had never seen before, and yet, every single one of them hurt just the same, after all, it was his fault.
This man, however, had been a recurrent one. Not the dream itself, as it was always different, but it was almost like a film. There was a story there, something behind the scenes that Harry felt was important, but he often forgot during the agony he felt while the Death Eaters tortured the man. He felt it as if it was his own body, sometimes he would even wake up to find his body covered by wounds. Harry wondered if that was his punishment for getting all those people killed...to feel with his own body everything they went through. He knew certainly deserved it. Harry sighed. He could feel the cold coming back already.
He brought the glass back to his lips.