Title: Rumours part 6

Pairings: Harry/Draco (what else? J . , this one also has hints of Percy/Penelope Clearwater.

Rating: NC17. Yeah, yeah, extremely angsty, rape. You know the drill

Author’s Notes: I was going to write a different Prologue to this chapter, but instead decided to move that one forward a bit and concentrate this one on Percy for all the Percy fans! J Perhaps it’s my intense narcissism but I can’t express enough about feedback so PLEASE R&R and tell me what you think. It’s what keeps me writing. (Well, maybe not, I can’t stop writing, per say but it does a hell of a lot to encourage me.)

More AN at bottom.

Prologue- Five years earlier

"Now really. Enough is enough!" McGonagall strode in behind the bickering brothers, hair still mussed from sleep, green night gown collecting specks of dust as it trailed behind on the ground. "I’m delighted that Gryffindor won the match but this is getting ridiculous! Percy, I expected better from you!"

The elder Gryffindor glared at his brother before he answered.

"I certainly didn’t authorize this, Professor. I was just telling them all to go back to bed! My brother Ron here had a nightmare-" He stared into his brother’s identical blue eyes as he talked, daring him to contradict. After all, as Percy was Head Boy, surely Ron was aware of who was in control, wasn’t he?

His brother’s incessant shouting informed Percy that this was, indeed, not true. The situation was becoming rather humiliating. Percy did not have to make a mental note to know that his brother was to get a rather hefty verbal tongue lashing from him later. And what was this nonsense about Sirius Black?

Nightmare. And he has to involve Professor McGonagall and get me into trouble.

Percy could feel his ears redden just from the thought. The trauma escalated when it was revealed that if Sirius Black had found his way into the common room, it was through a list of passwords Neville had left lying around. Percy doubted that Sirius Black would even attempt such a feat, reassuring himself with his own knowledge of his brother’s somewhat vivid imagination. McGonagall appeared to believe it, however and swiftly turn to walk out of the loud room to find Dumbledore, urging Percy to follow. Allowing a final glance at Ron, he creeped out the Gryffindor portrait hole after the slender Professor.

Percy inwardly steeled himself as he walked, forcing himself to take long calm breaths, waiting for Mcgonagall to reprimand him for allowing Neville to leave such a simple yet dangerous object about. After the events of the year before, in which a diary was the cause of much havoc, both were aware that even the most inauspicious of objects could have dangerous potential. But as they walked further and further through Hogwarts dim halls, Mcgonagall remained silent, appearing to be too intent in her own thoughts.

Filch they found in his usual stalk around the library, Mrs. Norris padding behind, her cry more that of a banshee than the man’s pet. Mcgonagall swiftly told him the events of the night.

"You must inform Severus Snape."

Filch nodded, affixed a dark glare at Percy, then moved swiftly down Hogwarts' Halls, Mrs. Norris turned to bewitch the Head Boy with her own yellow eyes before she too followed.

"I will help look as well, Miss Mcgonagall." Percy informed the somewhat frazzled woman. Mcgonagall shook her head.

"Sirius Black is far too dangerous. That is why I took you with me. I want you to inform Remus Lupin while I go to Dumbledore. Do you know where his office is?"

Percy was a little taken aback by this. Surely, as Head Boy, he was well aware of the dwellings of all the teachers as, indeed all the students.

"Of course."

Mcgonagall nodded. "Do not tarry. Take the most direct route."

As proud as Percy felt to be given this opportunity, his heart hammering in his puffed out chest and knots twisting his heaved stomach affirmed an anxiety that Mcgonagall did not miss.

"I am rather sure that if Mr. Black is in the school, he would not be hiding out anywhere near Professor Lupin’s office." Mcgonagall observed, a wry smile that Percy would not be able to place until a year later, when he discovered that Sirius and Remus were, and had been, lovers, appearing on her lips. "Hence I feel you will be quite safe. Even so, I would prefer if you hurry."

Percy nodded curtly and watched the grey haired woman rush down the corridor towards Dumbledore’s office. Now that no one could see what he considered his cowardice, Percy rushed down the corridor, only to collide into something solid yet strangely malleable. He fell down to his knees, wand flying from his hand.

"You shouldn’t be running through Hogwarts' Halls." The gruff voice held a haughty condescension common to most Slytherin’s. "Surely the Head Boy knows that."

He raised himself to his feet with as much dignity as he could, given the circumstances, looking directly into Marcus Flint’s cool dark eyes.

"You must return to the dormitory at once, Flint. Surely you are aware that you are currently out of bounds."

The other boy laughed a little, the sound low, guttural then brushed past him, moving down the corridor. Irritation washed away fear as Percy noted him brazenly walking into the library.

After hours? What is he playing?

At that moment, the Head Boy had a moral dilemma. He had but one moment to decide whether to follow McGonagall’s instructions and rush to Lupin’s office, or follow after Marcus Flint, and attempt to persuade him back to the common room. The thought of Black hiding out in the library rushed him forward.

"You do realize that this isn’t-?" He asked as he stepped into the musty room, only to find himself on the floor once more, the result of a sudden sharp knock across the jaw.

"This is an outrage!" He jumped to his feet, unmindful of the pain that radiated out through his hip from where it had been hit by the edge of a desk on the way down. He looked about, wildly, muscles twitching in all different directions with fear, as though they had decided to hold their own wild party unmindful of his brain, which was attempting to rationalize.

"Lumous."

The previously inky black room had now changed to darker brown undertone, the outlines of various shelves, books and desks preventing uniformity.

"Marcus Flint! I will inform you again the severity of the situation." He moved forward once more, eyes scanning the sharp edges for the softer curves of a human body. "I am not in the mood for games."

Silence, more fitting with the previous darkness of the room, prevailed. Percy’s own harsh breathing seemed to echo about the vicinity as though it was being broadcast through Lee Jordan's wizardphone. A soft chuckling turned him and he edged closer to a desk piled with books against the south wall.

"Marcus Flint! I'm telling you right now-"

He could not help his shamed gasp of shock when he felt strong arms grab his own from behind, twisting them painfully behind his back until he was sure he would soon hear the soft snap of bones, his wand falling to the floor beneath them.

"I am not finding this amusing."

Percy was trying hard to keep a tremor out of his voice. His instincts told him to run, to try and get away. That this was not the kind of game he would want to get into. The only sounds in the next few seconds were the Head Boy's struggles and Marcus’ exherted breathing. Percy suspected it was not due to an attempt to control him. A hand clamped over his mouth. An odd mixture of coconut and seaweed filled his nostrils, as his arms were wrenched higher up, shooting agony across his shoulder blades. He leant forward to try and accommodate the excruciation.

"That's more like it." The other boy whispered and wrenched him forward once more, using his weight to drive him over the book filled desk, Percy's arms bent up at an alarmingly awkward angle, his face pressed against the cool cover of a thick volume.

He squawked in shock as he felt the other boy’s bulkier frame press against him, his heated breath in his ear, his obvious intent pressed against the small of his back.

"You smell good." Marcus whispered, in a tone reminiscent of Penelope Clearwater, when she bent her dark curly head to breathe in the aftershave he applied specifically for her. Percy blinked back tears and endeavored to ignore the terror gnawing away at his stomach, as Marcus removed the hand on his mouth to trail it through his hair, drawing his fingers down the side of his neck, the ragged nails breaking through the flesh.

"Filch will be here. At any moment." He was shamed for the quavering in his voice.

Why is this happening? Why is this happening?

Marcus laughed and continued to trail his ragged nails down Percy’s ribs, unmindful of the boy’s persistent trembling.

"Little cocksucker like yourself will give him a go as well then, won’t you?"

Percy shuddered and attempted to wrench away from the teeth suddenly biting firm into his ear, only to be roughly pulled back to the same position, the boy now using his own body weight to hold him down.

"Please." He was beyond pride now as hand roughly tore at his robes. "Someone will come in."

But no one did. All told, the torture could not have lasted longer than five minutes but for Percy, it was an eternity.

As he would do with Draco, three years later (and other boys not known at that time) Marcus simply readjusted his clothes, repocketed his knife and left without a backwards glance once he had fulfilled his purpose.

Percy sunk his head into his hands, his kneeling legs giving out under him.

No, don’t throw up. Don’t ruin Hogwarts' floors.

As much as he wanted to expel Marcus’ foul taste from his mouth, he still had a standard to uphold as prefect. That in mind, he shakily rose to his feet. His instincts told him to curl up in the corner and cry out his anguish. But this was unbecoming of Head Boy. He had been told to go to Remus Lupin’s office and that was what he resolved to do.

He managed to half walk, half stumble into the hall, to be stopped by the sneering face of Severus Snape.

"Couldn’t even perform a simple duty like contacting-" The man stopped, eyes forming a gleam of curiosity as he took in his various bruises.

"The twins." Percy knew Snape wouldn’t argue with a brotherly dispute.

"Go back to your common room, boy. You’ve no other function here, tonight." Snape disappeared with his usual flick of robe.

Percy didn’t go back to his common room before having a very long bath in the Prefects’ Washroom, in which he scrubbed his flesh until it was stinging raw, following that with a spell to repair his robe and pants, which had been torn straight down the middle. A quick covering spell took care of the bruises. The other, more private internal injuries he would suffer with until they healed enough to cease the pain, a few days later.

No one questioned him. No one knew anything. And he was shamed to tell.

Even when he broke it off with Penelope, for apparently no reason, did anyone suspect the truth.

And he was relieved for it.

For him, to live in total secrecy was better than people knowing of the shame, the intense anguish, the nagging feeling of cowardice that all he could do while suffering the ultimate degradation was to sob piteously.

That was until Draco Malfoy’s attack three years later.

***

Harry looked down into his lover’s eyes as he ran his hand along the alabaster chest, continuing down the taut stomach, feeling the muscles spasm under attentive fingers, before trailing down the soft down of golden hair from his stomach to curl his fist around the straining erection. Draco moaned, flung his head back to reveal a tantalizing expanse of neck as Harry’s hand stroked with a vigor unmatched in their usual ‘love making’. He tenderly parted his legs, resting them on Harry’s own sides as the Gryffindor moved forward to rest his own erection against the tender opening, his mouth attacking his pale lover’s neck with lips, teeth and tongue. Draco responded by wrapping his legs around Harry’s waist.

"Fuck me, Harry. Please, please fuck me. Please."

Both boys groaned as Harry slid himself inside, pushing himself high up his lover’s insides, that quivered and stretched to accommodate.

"Oh Harry!"

Harry felt his own sides bruised by the pressure from the boy’s legs as he started to roughly thrust in and out of the tender opening, Draco groaning from effort as he pushed himself down on the object harry was frantically thrusting up with.

"Harry!"

Harry reached his head down for a nipple, suckling it as if he were a calf suckling on its mother’s teat, deliberately angling his thrusts so he pressed up against his lover’s prostate. This was enough for Draco. When Harry saw his lover’s face twisted in an obscene yet never the less erotic way as he climaxed, it was enough for Harry also. He cried out his lover’s name as he erupted inside him-

-And awoke with such vigor that he actually sat up on the makeshift bed Ron had made for him the night before. He was instantly aware of where he was. Two, rather depressing thoughts sprang to mind. The first was that it had been only a dream. He was well aware it would be a long time, if ever, that his lover would allow him to do that. The second, more concurrent, thought was that he had actually orgasmed in his sleep. He looked over to Ron, softly snoring on his bed. Harry decided he would berate himself later, for having such an erotic dream about a boy who, rightfully in Harry’s opinion, considering his violent past, was shamed to engage in such extreme sexual acts. His shame was amplified by fact that he had been having such extreme fantasies in a house in which one of the members had himself been raped.

His first most concern was with cleaning up the mess before any one else noticed. Eyeing the sleeping Ron a moment, he slipped on his glasses, then reached for his jacket, feeling in his pockets for the wand.

It’s not like it wasn’t different from even the fantasies you’ve had for years. His mind reminded him.

Harry intended to ignore his errant thoughts, attempting to place all of his attention on finding the wand. Relief flowed through him as he touched smooth wood. After one more glance at Ron (who now had a nice line of drool leaking out of the corner of his mouth), Harry pointed the wand at his soiled pants and whispered the ‘Speronzo’ spell.

"What are you whispering?"

Harry jumped looked to his friend, hoping his guilt wasn’t too apparent from his face. Ron’s eyes opened to his friend seated on his bed with his wand turned in on himself and an odd look on his face.

"Nightmare." Harry explained, hastily placing his wand on the folds of his robes.

Ron nodded, yet continued to affix him with his blue stare a few moments, before flopping back down again.

Harry, for his part, did not go back to sleep, not wanting to tempt another ‘accident.’

Harry could not pinpoint at first what the problem was. It seemed as if everything was in order. The twins were grumpy about getting up early, Ginny went through the belongings she was taking for about the tenth time and Molly Weasley yelled at everyone to hurry up, in the midst of telling off Arthur for yet another scam to get them to Platform 9 ¾ on time.

Then it occurred to him.

Though bustle was common the first day of school at the Weasley house, the occupants lacked energy, spirit. All in all, the house held a somber mood.

The rape of one of their own would do that.

Percy, for his part, was not engaging in any of the raucousness, instead holing himself up in his room. Harry was tempted to join him, though he did not know why. There were some questions that he wanted to ask. But he thought it would be unnecessarily cruel to provoke him this close to him testifying.

Harry never realized how much he missed the twins’ pre-Hogwarts Express good natured pranks until they didn’t do them any more.

At the station, Mrs. Weasley engulfed him in such a tight hug, he was worried his ribs would break.

"Be careful."

Harry wanted to turn from the tears gathering in her eyes.

"We won’t let anything happen." One of the twins assured her.

Harry had never heard either of them speak so gravely.

Harry’s lover and best friend stood just feet from each other but the illusion was that it could very well have been miles. Draco leant against the wall slightly, next to a sign announcing ‘Free Chocolate Frog with every Purchase of Juniper Beans at Honeydukes’ . Hermione sat down gracefully on her suitcase, closer to the middle of the platform but still far away from the crowd to not cause a disturbance, legs crossed neatly before her. What was most intriguing Harry, however were the two large, obvious ex-friends attempting to talk to the Slytherin blonde. This was the most extreme case Harry had ever seen of total ignorance. Upon spying Harry, Draco broke into a smile that Harry could feel from his feet to the top of his head, a brief current moving swiftly over his flesh. The boy moved forward. At the same time, Hermione stood up to receive her two friends. Harry then experienced an emotion he once thought was not possible.

Empathy towards Crabbe and Goyle.

The two large boys stared after Draco, their pain and guilt evident by their sad eyes, their trembling mouths.

"Harry." Harry moved his eyes back to Draco and placed his arms around him in a sating hug, as Ron did likewise with Hermione. When both released, Draco favored both Hermione and Ron with a nod.

Good enough. Harry sighed.

Harry’s nervousness as to the events aboard the Hogwarts Express, in concern to Draco and his friends, was allayed by the fact the boy was content to lean his head against Harry's chest as he read the Herbut Schmarker autobiography Harry had returned to him. Hermione had her own head stuck in a book, though she occasionally turned her bushy hair to look thoughtfully out the window, visually devouring the rapidly moving scenery outside. Harry, for his part, was more than happy to lightly stroke his lover’s hair as he and Ron enthusiastically discussed their degree.

Perhaps too enthusiastically, Harry would later muse. It was obvious neither wanted to even think about what was obviously on both of their minds. Indeed, there was barely a moment of silence. It was as though there was an unwritten rule that they must not allow a moment in which they could consider the testimony to be delivered the next day.

The only time both Draco and Hermione roused themselves from their books was when the lolly trolley was bought in. Draco, for his part, ordered twice the amount of everyone else, before settling down to cuddle up to Harry once more, not seeming to mind that he was dropping chocolate and candy bits over his lover’s shirt.

"Harry?" Ron held a very disgruntled expression. Harry tore his eyes away from the blonde across the room talking intently with another slytherin as he picked at the chicken pasta before him. Harry turned to a pair of very annoyed blue eyes. "I asked you three times."

He gave his friend a quizzical look, which only seemed to increase the annoyed grimace.

"Don’t worry." Ron snapped. "It wasn’t important."

Harry looked to Hermione but she was deep in conversation with Seamus Finnigan. It appeared both had decided to enroll in Wizard’s Law. He raised a brow at his friend in what he hoped was an apologetic expression.

As much as Harry loved to look at his lover, his constant glances were more a result of an absurd need to constantly check that no one was hassling him, over pure lust. It twisted his gut that he would not be present in his classes. The fact that he wasn’t sure what he’d do if some one did aggravate him, or that Draco was more than apt to handle harassment himself, was of no concern to the Gryffindor.

Feeling eyes on his back, he swivelled around in his chair and looked up to the main teacher’s table. His skin wasn’t crawling, which was a good sign. The look was obviously friendly. And definetely not from Snape’s dark orbs. He caught Dumbledore’s eye. The old wizard smiled and nodded at him, then, deliberately it seemed, turned his wise blue eyes to Draco, across the room.

Harry couldn’t understand why Ron was so mad at him. The redhead stormed down the hall towards their first class, not even bothering to wait for the slightly smaller, and therefore not quite as spritely, Harry. Sure, Harry had disappeared around the corner with Draco to give him a quick kiss goodbye and, certainly, Draco had not said a word to Ron but Harry had expected his best friend would be familiar with such snobbishness by that time.

Harry finally caught up to Ron at the entrance to Hogwarts Library. This was only because the boy had stopped to look in, where Hermione, who did not start class until another hour, was already deep in study behind a pile of books. The raven-haired boy could only stand awkwardly to one side as Ron stood as still as a marble statue, staring into the dusky room, a thoughtful expression on his face. Harry knew the subject he was thinking of. Indeed, it had been preying on his mind as well.

Percy.

He wondered what the man was doing at that instant. Was he still in his room? What was he doing? Thinking through his testimony?

Five years it had been. First Percy, then Draco. Four years later.

But that doesn’t make sense. Surely there were others? Why would he wait four years between victims?

Everyone had been surprised when Percy broke it off with Penelope. There had been talk of marriage, once they graduated. But no one questioned the ending of the relationship. In fact, Harry remembered Ron teasing his brother over his lack of commitment, even going so far as to imply other, more sexual dysfunctions were the reason for the break up. Harry looked to Ron now. From the tears gathered in his friend’s glazed eyes, Harry would bet a gallon of Butterbeer that was what he was thinking of, in that moment.

"We’d better get to class." Harry whispered. He didn’t think he could manage the situation a moment more.

Ron nodded silently and continued down the hall, shoulders hunched in a guesture of defeat.

Both boys gasped as they entered the room. Various ghostly Quidditch players, including Viktor Krum (much to Ron’s apparent chagrin) moved swiftly around the sky blue walls and ceiling, ocassionally swooping close to the green pastured floor. Harry was forced to duck when aging Rocket’s player Rock James pelted for a snitch before him, just missing gracing Harry’s head. The thirty or so other students appeared to be having the same reaction as Harry and Ron. Total disbelief and wonder.

Harry turned to Ron and opened his mouth to say he felt it was going to be a fantastic class when a loud voice interrupted him.

"Well, hurry up! Hurry up! Get to your chairs!"

Harry glanced at Ron and shrugged. Both moved forward but were stopped by a pair of large, spindly hands on their shoulders. Both turned to meet a pair of small, cobalt eyes, set deep in a face almost as pale as Draco's. The difference, Harry noted, was Draco’s pale skin served to compliment his unusual looks, whereas this man’s skin only added to the absolute bizarre ugliness. The Gryffindor champion was usually not quick to judge. If he was to be absolutely truthful, not even Snape could be classified as ‘ugly’ per say. But this man’s bizarrely shaped bald head and thin, drawn out face, had the effect of chilling Harry down to his extremities.

"Don’t expect any advantages because your Harry Potter, boy." The man’s sneer nearly paralleled Snape’s. "I don’t play favorites. Understand?"

Harry nodded, a sinking feeling growing in his stomach.

"Well what are you waiting for? Sit down!"

Ron favored Harry with a sympathetic glance that seemed to irritate the teacher.

"Did I tell you to interact at all with your friend, Mr. Weasley? Sit down, both of you. And if I hear a single peep, you’re both in detention for a month."

Harry’s stomach now dropped right down to his feet at the sudden revelation that this man was obviously a more hideous version of Snape.

Harry would have counted down the hours of the repugnant class, if he was sure the teacher, Professor Nostro wouldn’t notice. However, he was being watched like a Transylvannian Giant Hawk, cannibal creatures renowned for their magnificent eye sight. If Harry thought he was able to muse without the man punishing him, he would have reflected that the man somewhat resembled the enormous bird. The class involved taking copious amounts of notes off the board and trying to avoid breathing too loud as to annoy the teacher. In the first hour, he took points off houses with an abandon that had everyone wondering what house he was from. Harry was inwardly betting on Slytherin, but for the fact that the man seemed to have no compulsion against taking points off that house also.

It was as though a giant grey cloud lifted off the room as the man declared that class was over for the day. It had only been five hours straight of vigorous note taking. Harry’s wrist was aching from the effort. Sensing the palpable relief from all in the room (including the ghostly two-dimensional players), Harry gathered his books, endeavoring to not make eyesight with Ron while the teacher was still close to them. Both boys walked silently out together, before finally letting loose in a cataclysm of angry words as soon as they were far enough away from the strange room.

"I can’t believe that!" Ron finally ended the conversation, which had involved a lot of angry declarations against the teacher.

"Well." Harry looked down to take his pocket watch out. After many threats over years by various teachers to turn him into a pocket watch so he could get to places on time (the first being Mcgonagall, on the first day of school, all those years before) Draco had finally convinced him to buy a watch. After Harry had arrived an hour late one time to meet him, the boy had refused, point blank, to talk to him for an hour, or, indeed, to even look at him. Whenever Harry tried to communicate, the blonde simply pointed at his own wrist watch, eyes blazing with anger. Harry got the point within ten minutes.

"I’ll see you in the hall for dinner."

"Wait. Where are you going?" Ron’s face was turning even redder than its usual complexion. "Oh, you’re going to meet HIM, aren’t you?"’

Harry looked at him, frowning. He couldn’t understand where this was coming him. Surely, Ron would be used to him running off to be with his boyfriend. It had, after all, been about five months.

"I’ll see you in the hall."

Before Harry could answer, Ron stalked off, hair looking impossibly red under the harsh sunlight filtering through slits in the oak roof rafters.

Harry was literally bowled over as soon as he reached their beloved oak. Draco jumped on him, using his weight to drive the boy back against the oak, which grumbled in deep annoyance and lightly swiped a branch at Harry’s back. He barely noticed, too intent on the marvelous things his lover was doing to his neck with his teeth, lips and tongue. Harry’s vision blurred as his glasses were snatched off his face and thrown hastily to the ground beneath. The oak groaned louder and swatted Draco across his back as both boys fumbled with their robes, mouths attacking bare skin as it appeared, hands reaching the most erotic of zones and stroking, clutching. Harry’s back chaffed from being rubbed up and down against the annoyed tree as the two boys had an unspoken conflict of interest as to who should suck on who’s nipple, who should blow air across who’s stomach, who should reach their head down lower first. Harry was the first to climax, a result of Draco’s frantically stroking hand, talented mouth finding every inch of tantalizing neck flesh and extreme excitement over the fact that his lover did not seem to be protesting over the amount of material Harry was unveiling. Harry’s own reciprocating hand and mouth paying particular attention to the bared pale chest saw Draco follow not soon after.

Both boys slid to the leaf sprinkled ground, robes hastily opened (or, in Harry’s case, completely thrown to one side), shirts and pants undone. Harry simply lay still, turning his face up to enjoy the sun’s warm caress, doing up his pants but not bothering about his shirt or robes for that moment. Draco handed Harry back his glasses, then busied himself with rearranging his clothes so it was as if nothing had been out of place to begin with. Harry laughed a little as the boy took out a comb to brush his perfect hair back into place. Draco then lay beside Harry to lazily draw circles across his bare chest.

"What’s with the Weasel?"

Harry shrugged, deciding to let the slur pass, for the moment.

"It seems the stick up his butt has finally broken through to his tonsils."

"Draco." Harry frowned. He hoped it sounded as a warning tone. The boy scowled but remained silent, never the less.

"How was your class?"

"Wonderful, Harry. Professor Thesian says I have real potential."

I bet he does. This time Harry did his own smirking.

"How was yours?"

Draco laughed at the dark look that crossed Harry’s face. "Oh, poor, poor Harry. Poor, poor Mr. Quidditch champion Potter."

He gracefully rolled Harry to his back, so he lay on top of his lover. Both boys gazed at each other, lost in contemplation of the other’s beauty.

"Generally, it is true." The blonde hastily moved off his lover, as the velvet voice rang out across the clearing. Both boys scrambled up, Harry quickly doing up his shirt as the greasy haired potions teacher continued. "Though usually the sight is not marred by two boys making out!"

Draco handed Harry his robes and helped him shove them on as quickly as possible. Harry dared not look in the direction of Snape and his new companion, none other than Nostro.

"Ah, Harry Potter." The bald man stalked up to the boy as Snape stood back, his enjoyment obvious from the smirk crossing his unpleasant face. The two boys stood in desolate confinement as the man circled, like a tiger stalking prey before going for the kill. Harry could see that Draco looked as red as he felt.

"And who is his likewise rule breaking companion? If it isn’t the very popular Draco Malfoy! I am surprised, Mr. Malfoy that you would stoop so low, considering what happened the last time you went out of bounds."

Harry gasped, amazed at the man’s sheer nastiness

"Is this to be a habit of yours, Mr. Malfoy? Indulging in sexual relations in and around the Forbidden Forest?"

Harry had never considered he could actually do it. It had, of course, been a fantasy of his for years. Only it usually included Snape, not a teacher he had only met that day. But intense fury gave him untold of courage.

Despite the man’s favorable size, the punch did at least faze him, if not drive him back a little. Harry was also happy to note that the beginnings of a bruise was forming on the clenched jaw of his shocked face.

Silence reigned a few moments. Even birds stopped twitching as though to mark the solemn occasion. The man’s snarl broke it, his hand drawing back to deliver a blow of mind melting power. Thin, long fingers held tight around the upraised digits. Though Snape’s lips were pulled back in a snarl of his own, his eyes held a sadness that inwardly baffled Harry a moment.

"Cease, Mercrius! Your words were completely unjustified!"

"This boy hit a teacher. That is grounds for instant expulsion."

Harry’s stomach seemed to be ground to the dust beneath his feet. This was what Snape had been wanting for years. Not wanting, cherishing

"And your words were not?" Draco said. "Once my father finds out-"

"Your father!" Nostro interrupted scornfully.

"Yes. My father. He could get you not only fired but can fix it so you won’t be able to work in another school again."

The two held eyes a long moment, before Nostro conceded with a subtle lowering of eyelids. He shrugged himself out of Snape’s grasp and strode out of the clearing in three long legged strides. Harry exhaled, waiting, with trepidation, Snape’s gleeful apparating of him to Dumbledore’s office to explain the events.

"Twenty points will be taken from Gryffindor for this little upset, Potter."

The dark eyed man affixed him with a glare, before stalking away with an equally fierce swirl of dark cloak. Harry stared after him while his mind raced to connect meaning to the events that had just past.

"Why did you punch him?" Draco was sulking. "I was going to do it. Why do you always have to come out as the victor?"

Harry was still a little shocked at his knee jerk reaction. Draco audibly sighed.

"I guess our place is now compromised. No matter. We’ll find a new one. I’m sure your Marauder’s Map must bring up some pretty interesting discoveries."

Harry didn’t even bother to ask how he had found out about the map.

Ron did said only twelve words to Harry during dinner. Though Hermione attempted some conversation with the Boy who Lived, the bushy haired girl seemed distracted by some vague worry. Her brows appeared continually furrowed. Harry wondered if there was trouble between her and Viktor. After all, she hadn’t spoken about him in a while, not that she spoke of him regularly, anyway, but-

"Check out Malfoy, Harry. Seems your boyfriend is flirting with another guy." Ron whispered his twelve words for the hour.

Harry inwardly groaned and glanced across to the Slytherin table, where Draco smiled genially at a large lipped older boy, who was waving his hands around in exaggerated annunciation. This one had been very obviously after the blonde before he and Harry were lovers. The Gryffindor was surprised Draco didn’t recognize it.

Maybe he does and he plays up to it because he likes the ego boost.

He watched Draco suddenly raise his head in a telling angle when the boy looked away to help himself to more chicken dumplings. Though his expression held plain, his eyes were veritably smirking.

Oh, you little…

Harry’s inward laugh was interrupted by a jostle beside himself. A sharp knock to his head turned him to the shaved headed boy warbling over to Hermione’s chair. Neville, who had been attempting to magic off the blackberry juice on his off white shirt, leaned forward to whisper.

"What is Crabbe doing?"

The Gryffindors weren’t the only ones to murmur discontent at a Slytherin brashly walking over to interrupt a Gryffindor eating. Harry noted a lot of heads from all the factions pointed in their direction, including a suspicious Snape and amused Dumbledore. The old wizard caught Harry’s eye and winked.

Not even seeming to notice that she had the attention of most, if not all of the room, Hermione simply stood up and walked down the length of the Gryffindor table. Crabbe followed, large padding feet sounding disturbingly loud in the suddenly quiet hall. Necks craned to follow the two out of the room.

"I don’t believe it! Crabbe and Hermione!" Lavender Brown squawked.

"But I thought she was with Viktor?" A stray Ravenclaw voice carried across to the Gryffindor table.

"No, it’s nothing like that. She’s just using him to help her with something." Neville stated, the words coming out with an almost angry vehemence.

"What’s she doing?" Oliver Wood asked.

"I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell me."

Harry’s stomach did a funny flop, his facial skin tingling and suddenly feeling very hot as he felt an entire table staring at him.

"I don’t know what she’s doing." He managed to murmur. Eyes then fell to Ron, whose expression of bafflement was evidence enough.

Hermione was no more telling in the Gryffindor common room that evening. Even when crowded by a group of students, she simply politely told them to leave her alone and continued to read her book on the great wizard conquerors of the fifteenth century (for the second time). Harry was more than happy to give her space but could not deny his hurt that she wouldn’t even confide in him. Ron had forgiven him for whatever had ailed him before and was happy to play a rather laxical game of wizard’s chess with his friend. Harry conceded but could not help check his watch every five minutes or so. Before exiting the hall, Draco had whispered the password for Slytherin dorms in his ear. The Gryffindor’s rampant imagination (this, he suspected, stemmed from the need to escape his unbearable upbringing) taunted him with images of his lover lying in wait on hand woven silken sheets. Naked, of course.

He was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate on the game of exploding snap the twins were attempting, and, for once, failing, to add some humor into. Harry suspected this to be a result of worry over their elder brother. He urged to tell them to shut up. No humor was better than attempted but failed humor that only served to exacerbate their inherent sadness. His relief when they finally decided to go to sleep, earlier than their usual late night (or more, close to dawn stay up) was overridden by the guilt that overtook him in a sucker punch.

He simply couldn’t look at them at that time. Though they acted as they always did, their angst was obvious in their tired eyes, their close to mechanical voices. It was all too familiar for a boy who loved another with undiminished anguish of his own.

When Harry finally made his way up to the Slytherin dormitory, his previous excitement was dulled by being privey to the blanket of despair thrown over his best friend and his best twins. Ron had gone to sleep without even saying good night. The twins, in Harry’s opinion, were worse, continuing with their light banter as they walked up to their beds, in direct contrast to the weariness in their movement.

"Dramoninus."

The haughty yet distinguished old man opened the portrait to reveal a common room very similar to the Gryffindor’s. Harry had only been inside once, six years before, yet it was exactly as he remembered it. Clutching his cloak close to his body, he silently slipped inside to edge around the circular room. The only occupants were two boys, seated in fluffy armchairs in front of a wood fire, that sparked purple, green and red, the reflection glittering off the green material of the Slytherin flag trailed down the wall opposite, creating an illusion of the ghost of a long departed flame. Both were too intent in their discussion to even realize the portal had been opened and closed. Harry recognized the red curly haired back of head of the boy who had earlier been talking to Draco during dinner.

"Don’t worry about it, Janus." The somewhat porky boy beside him reached over to poke at the fire. "You’ll get your turn, soon enough. Maybe you can bargain with Lucius to have a go after Potter"

Harry stopped abruptly, heart starting to hammer so loud, he was sure the two men could hear it.

"I just don’t understand why Marcus was the first. It’s not as though he is such a fantastic follower."

The other boy threw down the poker and wiped the sweat from his brow. Harry’s hammering heart was competing with the shaking of his arms, a result of the surge of anger through his body.

"He wasn’t the first. You know Daddy’s been fucking him for years. Preparing him."

The Gryffindor continued to stand under the Slytherin flag, behind Janus’ snake carved back of chair, in deep peril as to whether or not to reveal himself and fling himself onto them, biting, kicking, punching and scratching.

Janus chuckled a little. "I can’t wait to get my permission to have that cute little ass. Especially now Malfoy’s all tight again."

Harry reminded himself that these two boys were twice his size and could easily pound him to a discernable pulp that once resembled a boy.

"Why do you think Marcus went for Percy Weasley?"

The redhead shrugged. "Why not? The pretty little upstart looked good for a cocksucking. And I’m wagering it would have been a nice tight virgin hole."

Beat you to a pulp, cut you into pieces then take what is left to Dumbledore’s office.

Harry could not listen to the men’s disgusting chatter any longer, lest he do something he would undoubtedly regret later. He silently slipped out of the room to climb up the stairs to the Slytherin dormitories, ignoring the strong urge to at least risk putting out their rather cozy fire with a quick flick of his wand. His mind was swimming with the disturbed notion that these men knew what had happened to Percy.

Oh, why not?

He rushed up the stairs, as curses hurled through the air behind him, the result of an apparent ‘evernight’ fire abruptly going out.

Draco was easy enough to find. His was the only bed in which the snake insigniad green and black curtain wasn’t drawn. Harry could see, even from his vantage point at the far end of the room, that the boy was asleep. Momentary indecision was quashed by the thought of passing back through the common room holding the two disturbed men. He reached his lover’s sleeping quarters and, after removing his shoes and placing them by the bed climbed in beside him, removing the cloak and placing it at the end of the bed, before closing the curtains with a quick flick of wrist and placing a silencing charm on the bed with a few words.

"Draco." He stroked the relaxed face, hoping the boy was merely pretending to sleep.

No such luck. Disappointment crashed straight through the raven-haired boy, seeming to pull his guts down with it. He had been looking forward to a bit of passion to expel the anguish Ron and the twins were subconsciously leeching onto him. A shot of anger directed at Draco intermingled the already heavy emotions.

Why did he allow himself to fall asleep?

"DRACO!"

He was confident that no one else would hear him due to his silence charm. He didn’t count on Draco, himself, not responding, either. The boy’s only response was to fling one arm around Harry’s waist, nestling his head in his chest.

"Harry…" He murmured. "You little bastard…" He giggled a little in a way that cooled the other boy’s temper. Harry studied the aristocratic face. He was still obviously fast asleep.

"No, hon. You’re the bastard."

Draco giggled once more in response, eliciting laughter from the Gryffindor, who flung his arm around his lover and pulled him close, kissing his forehead and removing his glasses and placing them in his sleeping robes, before closing his eyes.

Surely, no one will just brazenly walk up and open his bed partition for no reason, tomorrow morning? Because if they do, we will be-

His thoughts disintegrated to pleasant coming sleep.

Harry was having one of ‘those’ dreams. This one involved a muggle telephone box and a pair of muggle handcuffs that Harry saw in a film once. Dream Draco had no qualms whatsoever about being naked, or that his hands were firmly cuffed to the muggle telephone, or, indeed, that equally naked Dream Harry was thrusting into him with rather impressive determination. In fact, judging by Dream Draco’s incoherent pleading, he seemed to be rather enjoying it. So it was that Harry Potter woke up on the second day of his University degree at Hogwarts, to discover that he had wrapped his legs around his lovers waist and his arms around his arms, while he ground his erection against Draco’s clothed backside. His headlong rush to an embarrassing orgasm was interrupted by the blonde waking up. In his momentary disorientation, Draco screamed and threw Harry off him, reaching for his wand and holding it on the boy who had groaned his shocked release while being pushed back. Terror subsided to anger when he realized what Harry had been doing. For his part, the Gryffindor felt his eyes prick with tears from absolute humiliation. He decided then and there that he had to be the world’s biggest pervert. Draco’s eyes widened slightly in recognition of the obvious dark stain at the front of Harry’s bed robes.

"Can you please tell me why you felt the urge to use me as a masturbation tool when I WAS ASLEEP, POTTER?"

Harry couldn’t hold back tears of humiliation that now spilled down his cheeks as he reached for his own wand to mutter the ‘Speronzo’ spell.

"I was asleep. Honestly." He countered Draco’s raised brow. "I was… having this dream and I woke up to find myself…rubbing against you."

If Draco’s intent was to humiliate Harry, he was succeeding perfectly.

"And what, pray tell, was the dream about?"

Oh no. Don’t make me…

"I think you know, Draco."

The Slytherin affixed him with his grey eyes a moment. "It was me? Only me?"

Harry was able to smile a little through his humiliation. "It’s been only you for the past three years."

Draco’s smile broke his petulant pout. "See, this does seem rather unfair, Potter. It’s been ‘you’ for four years and yet I still don’t have any satisfaction. I’m suspecting you put a silencing charm on the bed so I’ll be able to scream as loudly as I want."

Harry slid down so he was eye level with his lover’s crotch.

"I want to hear your lovely moans, now."

Draco did not disappoint. As Harry vigorously sucked along his straining erection, while one hand stroked up and down a quivering inner thigh, the other reaching through his bedrobes to tweak first one nipple, then the other, Draco moaned loud enough to surely break through the silencing charm, or so Harry thought. In a slight variation, as Harry felt the boy start to tremble all over as a sign he was close, his hands tugging at his lover’s dark hair, his body thrusting up and down off the bed, he hastily released Draco’s penis from his mouth. The boy’s eyes, watching Harry the entire time, darkened with angered frustration. Harry clambered up to sit on his erection, rubbing it against his crevice in the same fashion as he unconsciously did to Draco earlier. He looked to his amazed lover and smiled. The blonde cried out, as though shocked by his own orgasm.

"Well, well." Harry sighed as his lover dropped bonelessly back onto the bed, still breathing harshly, too spent to bother about wiping himself off, or, indeed, even put himself back in his pants. "Look at what you’ve done to my nice bedrobes." He enacted the ‘Speronzo’ spell to clean the stain and leant forward to kiss the trembling boy. "Maybe one day, you’ll be comfortable enough to, you know." He smiled and tucked his lover back inside his pants, before rearranging the bed robes. "Make love to me."

Draco couldn’t meet his eyes a moment. "You must think I’m such a-"

Harry put a finger to his lips. "I don’t care. You know that."

The boy seemed to study him intently. "What was the dream about?"

"We… went to a fair together. Muggle fair."

"Oh, you bastard!" Harry giggled as the smaller boy went for his armpits with tickling fingers.

The stray Gryffindor couldn’t sneak out of the Slytherin common room until after everyone had left. Both boys went through a moment of absolute terror when the curtains were hastily drawn open. Draco roughly pushed Harry under the covers. The Gryffindor flattened himself as much as possible, hoping the other boy didn’t notice a rather human shaped figure next to Draco.

"Sleeping in, Draco?"

Even the sound of the hateful boy’s voice curled Harry’s stomach.

"Can I help you with something, Janus?"

"I thought you’d maybe accompany me to the hall for breakfast."

"Accompany you." Harry could hear the laughter in Draco’s voice. "Why, can’t you find the way? Do you need a minder, little boy?"

Harry waited until he heard the older boy’s footsteps fade from the room before re-emerging his head from the covers.

"Draco, Janus is a total, utter bastard. Don’t go near him"

"He’s fine." He waved Harry’s warning away. "Why? Are you jealous, Harry? He’s in love with me." He laughed a little, derisively.

Harry re-established his innate ability of late to say the worst thing possible.

"I overheard him talking last night with a friend. He thinks you’re a whore, Draco."

The smile faded on the boy’s face as, concurrently anger blazed in his eyes.

"Oh, you overheard him talking ,did you?"

"Honestly, Draco. He said the most terrible things about you."

"A whore. Right? A whore? Those were his words? Whore?"

Harry had trouble remembering correctly. In fact, he thought now that the man hadn’t actually said the word ‘whore’ as such, but his implications made it very clear. He looked to Draco. His lover looked as if he was about to take a wand to the older boy in the worst possible way.

"I’m sorry."

"Not as sorry as he’s going to be."

Harry repressed a smile. He was glad to see the Draco Malfoy fighting spirit was back in action once more.

"Where were you?" Harry was advanced upon by a very flustered Ron as soon as he tried to sneak back into he common room.

"We’d better get ready for court."

Harry endeavored to move past the taller boy, only to have him block the stairs leading to the dormitory.

"No, we’re not going until we have a chat."

Harry tilted his head a little, sizing up his best friend.

"Don’t do that! You’re even looking like him now! Stop it!"

Ron stormed away to stand before the fireplace, his back to Harry. The darker haired boy crossed the room and collapsed in a chair behind him.

"Ron, Draco’s my boyfriend."

"Oh, don’t start that condescending crap with me." Harry blinked. He didn’t realize he was sounding condescending. "Just because he’s your boyfriend doesn’t mean that you have to dessert your friends. By the way, are you even aware that Hermione is having an affair, with CRABBE?"

"Oh, come on, Ron. You know that isn’t true." Harry was finding it difficult to talk to Ron’s back. He stood up to have the boy swiftly turn to face him.

"Did you even consider that I might need you? That maybe I need to talk to you?"

Harry felt a skewer pierce down his ribs. Perhaps he had been neglecting Ron.

"I’m sorry, Ron. I’m here now. What do you want to talk about?"

Ron simply stared at him. Harry had the disconcerting feeling that he was gathering more arsenal for another assault.

"Is it Percy?" Harry said, softly.

This was it. This was the gunpowder that sparked the massive explosion.

"No, don’t talk about that, Harry! Don’t you dare even mention him! You don’t know anything about that! Do you hear? So, tell me, what should I do? I’ve lost my best friend to my worst enemy. And you don’t even seem to care." Ron started to pace. "Why, Harry? Oh, I know why. It’s because you had to be the hero. You had to save poor raped Malfoy. And so, what, is that your reward? Good deal, Harry. You help him out and he lets you fuck him."

Harry could veritably hear the snap as his own temper broke. He stepped up to Ron, invading his body space, clenching his hands into fists to cease from hitting him.

"How dare you say that? You don’t know anything about us, Ron. Nothing."

"Whose fault is that?"

Both boys simply stared at each other a moment, the air so tense around them it could have been veritably smashed with a very large hammer. Ron broke it by stalking up the stairs to the dormitories with a parting remark.

"Don’t talk to me again, Harry."

Harry suspected that Dumbledore knew the reason for the tension between him and Ron, as exampled by the sympathetic glances the wizard kept favouring the two boys with. They sat on either side of Hermione, not bothering to keep eye contact. Sirius, seated between Harry and Dumbledore, frowned at his Godson but said nothing. Beside Dumbledore, Snape stared at Remus, on the stage far below, eyes following his every move. Currently, he was going through notes, piled on the desk perpendicular to the gathered crowd. Lucius held his usual dignified pose beside the werewolf. One hand was clamped paternally on his son’s shoulder. Marcus, clamped down on his chair in the centre of the room, looked exceedingly bored. Remus gracefully strode over to the man and knelt beside him, talking to him softly. Marcus’ eyes shifted to Draco, a soft smile playing at his lips. Lupin removed his wand and tapped it twice on the man’s shoulder. His lolling head to his chest confirmed his unconsciousness.

"Ladies and Gentlemen." Remus stepped out to the centre of the stage so he was standing directly in front. "Today, I intend to prove that Marcus Flint has embarked on a carrier involving the rape of young men. To do this, we’ll compare two accounts of two men that claim to have been raped by Marcus. When both have finished their stories, you’ll see the similarities that lead no doubt that Marcus was the culprit. Draco."

The boy didn’t move a moment. Harry recognized from his profile a look of intense concentration. He looked up the tiers leading down to the stage to rest his eyes on his dark haired lover, before stepping out to the centre stage to gracefully rest into the witness chair, which had been moved from Marcus’ chair by a further three or four feet. Marcus, himself still appeared to be in a deep sleep.

"Please, no! Don't! Don't!"

Harry jumped, looked wildly around. It sounded like… like Draco. He could sense Sirius and Hermione looking at him with concern. On the stage, the blonde simply sat very ramrod straight, chest heaving. His lips had not moved. Remus patted his hand a couple of times and whispered in his ear. Draco nodded, slowly. The ex-teacher turned and looked up at Sirius briefly, before he flicked his fingers to move a chair so it was side on to Draco’s and sat down in it.

"Tell us, Draco. Tell us about the Arimenthu."

Harry’s heart beat in quicker succession at the mention. He remembered what the twins had told him.

"We didn’t know."

Ron caught his eye a moment and opened his mouth, as though to say something, before diverting his eyes to his feet.

"He… after he…" Draco stopped, seemingly unsure of how to start.

"Fuck! I don’t believe this!"

Harry looked to Marcus on the stage, then looked about to see if anyone else had heard him speak. Hermione caught his eye and gave him a puzzled look.

"It was right near the end. Marcus… he... you know… with the watch which he thought was really funny but then he couldn’t… you know and I tried to get away. I thought it was my only chance. But I couldn’t barely move." He was looking at his kneading and unkneading hands as he talked. "I was in so much pain but I knew I just had to get out of there. I was scared he was going to kill me. And he, he went over to his robes and he took out this bottle and drank from it, then grabbed me and pulled me back."

"I fucking hate you! Get off me! Get off me, you bastard!"

Harry clutched at his head, wondering if maybe he had finally gone insane.

"I started screaming, yelling at him, cursing him. I didn’t care, at this point. And he, he kissed me." The boy’s voice trembled as he spoke. "And all I could taste was this seaweed and coconut."

Harry remembered when he was trying to figure out what exactly it had been that Ron had given him for his birthday. A sniff of the contents revealed, yes. Coconut and Seaweed. A proportionate amount.

"And then he had the knife again." His voice continued to tremble. "And, and he put it to my throat and"

There was silence for a long while. Remus said nothing, simply waited.

"And then he forced it in me again."

Harry was jolted by the sudden scream originating from nowhere to enter his mind. The cry was of such anguish, despair and anger that it caused the hairs on his body to stand on end, as though an electrical charge was running through them. The scream was followed by another one of slightly higher pitch.

"And while he was raping me, he said…"

Again there was silence a few long moments. This was interrupted again by the phantom sounds in Harry’s head.

"Harry ,are you alright?"

It was Sirius, only Harry didn’t hear him. He was completely overridden by Marcus’ voice.

"Oh, hon, I’m afraid to disappoint but I’m gonna have to finish up, soon. I’ve fucked you so hard you’re torn completely open."

Harry gasped, suddenly feeling as though he was going to throw up. He placed his hand over his mouth, looking desperately around for something to be sick in.

"He told me he was going to slit my throat. That it had always been his fantasy"

Draco’s shaken sobs on the floor below were interrupted by the other voice in Harry’s head.

"I’m gonna slit your throat, pretty. When I come this time, I’m gonna slit your throat. Then, while your dying, I’m gonna fuck your mouth again. They’re gonna find your corpse with my come all over you, all inside you. And everyone’s gonna know that you were fucked by me before you died. Again and again and again."

"He told me this while he was raping me the last time." Draco finally looked up, eyes red and swollen, tears trickling down his cheeks. His lower lip was trembling. Harry suddenly grabbed a surprised Sirius by his cloak and buried his face in his chest.

"Make it stop, Sirius. Please, make it stop."

Harry felt Sirius stiffen, momentarily.

"Harry, no. Don’t say that." Sirius’ voice sounded different a moment, shaken, unlike that of the strong man he knew and loved. Harry was in no state to analyze that at that particular moment, however as he was overwhelmingly consumed by his own sorrow. Below, Draco continued to sob through his testimony.

"I- I couldn’t breathe. I started to pass out when he… you know, finished. I remember thinking that he really was going to kill me, now. And I remember feeling almost happy, relieved about it. But he just walked over and started to put his clothes back on."

Harry jumped as the voices started again. Sirius hushed him, stroking a hand lightly through his hair. Feeling eyes on him from the right, Harry suspected Snape was watching them. He jolted as the voice entered his mind once more.

"I must thank you, beautiful, for an immensely enjoyable experience. We’ll have to do this again, one day soon."

"And then he just left. Just turned and walked away. I couldn’t believe it. After all that he’d done, he was now just walking away as if nothing had happened. And he took of the Disolucius field and I started to be very cold, freezing, in fact. But I couldn’t move. I felt paralyzed. I still just couldn’t move. I was in so much pain."

"The next time I see you, I will kill you. I don’t care who’s Godfather you are. I will kill you, you sick rapist fuck."

"One of the centaurs, he picked me up and carried me as far as he could to the edge of the forest. I told him I was alright. Really, I didn’t want him near me. I wanted to be by myself so I could find something to… But Hagrid, he found me before I could do it."

Harry’s stomach twisted as he realized what Draco was talking about. He recalled the boy’s letter to him, a certain suggestion implied by the ingestion of bone repair capsules.

On the floor below, Lupin escorted the shaking boy off the chair and over to his father, who instantly engulfed him in a soothing hug. Though Harry was, himself, surrounded by the strong arms, broad chest and spicy scent of his own Godfather, he once again sensed Lupin’s light brown eyes looking up in their direction. The voice in his mind now was soothing, melodic, a welcome change from Draco’s anguish and Marcus’ gruffness.

"I will take you the closest to the edge of the forest I can, brave one. Yes, release yourself to welcome sleep if you must. Your injuries are of a severity that it would perhaps be best to not feel the agony until after your healing has started effect."

Draco’s voice sounded so completely utterly broken, but a whisper of his usual strong, proud tones.

"Please, put me down. I don’t want to continue."

"I shall not. For you will surely seek death. But though death shall be a welcome reprieve, it makes victorious the one who hurt you. It would also deny you the one whose love succeeds all."

Harry broke from Sirius enough to look down at the stage below. Draco was still being held in his father’s arms, as though his age had been decreased by about sixteen years. Lupin stood in the centre, suddenly looking exceedingly weary. Harry wondered when the next full moon would be. Marcus’ head was still drooped against his chest, rolled a little to the left.

"My next testifier is one I wish I didn’t have to call. I’m also saddened to say that I will dig up others before this is through. Calling Percy Weasley."

Harry risked a glance at Ron. The boy held a look of such fragile pain that Harry felt his earlier anger dissolve. He reached out and patted his friend’s shoulder. Ron looked up into his eyes with a dazed expression. On the tier below them, the Weasleys were huddled together, Fred and George supporting each other as they looked forward with equally dazed expressions. Bill had one hand on his mother’s shoulder and an arm around Ginny’s. Arthur and Charlie stood a little apart from the others, standing separately. Harry felt his heart seep out towards this family, who from the beginning, had treated him as one of their own. It didn’t seem right that they should suffer like this.

It just wasn’t fair.

Percy was looking very smart in his orderly black robes and maroon cravat knotted at his throat. His firey hair was combed neatly off his face. The obsessiveness that had gone into the man’s appearance for that day tore at Harry’s heart. Percy sat in the chair, head held almost regally high, hands folded before him. He looked up into the crowd, catching eyes with someone on the second tier. Harry followed his eyes. It took a moment to recognize the curly head of Penelope Clearwater.

TBC

I bet you’re all about ready to kill me now! ;) I know, I know, I am a VERY SICK PUPPY! I can’t help it- I feel compelled to write about things that disturb me greatly.