Harry came slowly, reluctantly, back to consciousness. Sleep or unconsciousness were the only escape he had from the pain and despair. Every part of him ached. Even his stomach and throat hurt, as he’d had no food and barely any water in the three days that he’d been held captive. Well, not just him. Ron and Hermione had been captured, too.
His entire body was black and blue, mostly from the Cruciatus curse, but some of the Death Eaters liked to be a bit more creative with their spells. Yet others liked to use their hands and fists to punish him. Lucius preferred knives. Harry dreaded him the most. He took cruel pleasure in the agony he inflicted on Harry.
Still, he hadn’t broken. Not yet, anyway. He knew if he did, Ron and Hermione were dead. They were in a separate room in the dungeon of Malfoy Manor. Their captors kept both of them together, chained to the walls. Harry knew this because he was led back to their cell when the Death Eaters were through with him for the night. He was unable to speak to them, however, as silencing charms were placed around each of them. Harry could see their blurry outlines (his glasses having been confiscated along with his wand), but not speak to them. Other than looking hungry, dirty, and terrified, they seemed all right, alive at least, which was as much as he could hope for.
They were the best weapons the Death Eaters had to keep Harry under their control. It was also another way of torturing him, for they knew how much he cared for his best friends. He didn’t dare attempt anything that would jeopardize their relative safety. Therefore, he prayed for endurance, for the strength to hold on until the Order could find and rescue them.
Why they hadn’t summoned Voldemort upon capture, Harry thought he knew. Each of the Death Eaters wanted to punish him personally for eluding capture all this time, for making them look foolish, for making them suffer their Master’s wrath. Each had a score to settle with him, and until they were satisfied, only then would they summon Voldemort. Then Harry would be free. He longed for that moment, for the bolt of green light and the rush of death. He would’ve already begged for it if it weren’t for Ron and Hermione. Somehow, he had to get them out of this.
It was his fault they were all in this mess in the first place. They were ambushed in the woods, where they'd camped for the night during their hunt for the Horcruxes. He’d said Voldemort’s name, and the enchantments around their tent were broken. Ten Death Eaters appeared almost immediately. Ron and Hermione went down fairly quickly from stunning spells, but Harry had broken away after taking two of them down. He could have run for it, but he couldn’t leave Ron and Hermione with the Death Eaters. They would be killed for sure. So he surrendered to them. What choice did he have? It was him they really wanted, anyway.
He’d tried to negotiate Ron and Hermione’s release. Instead, the three of them were brought here, to Malfoy Manor. He’d managed to send a Patronus message to the Order before they took his wand, though. It was the only ray of hope he had. The Order knew at least they’d been captured, but not where they were being held, or if they were even still alive now. He couldn’t let himself wonder if the Order had given up searching for them. They had to be coming.
The door to the cell opened, and Harry could hear two people enter. He didn’t stir, pretending to still be unconscious. He was chained to the wall by his wrists, which were raw and bleeding. He hung limply, his head on his bare chest, eyes closed, not wanting to see his newest tormentors. The room was empty except for a small wooden table and a single chair. Whoever had come to pay him a visit, or to make him pay as it were, dropped something on the table while the other approached. Grabbing a handful of his hair, they jerked his head upwards.
Harry groaned and reluctantly opened his eyes. A pair of heavily hooded eyes stared back at him. Bellatrix Lestrange; this wasn’t good. She made Lucius look kind. Much of the most severe spell damage on his body had come from her sadistic skill with a wand. Looking around the small room for her companion, Harry could make out her husband Rudolphus in the corner.
Grand, he thought miserably. Harry had already been viciously introduced to his brother Rabastan, or his fists at least, earlier in the day. He didn’t expect to find Rudolphus any gentler.
“Hello, wittle Harry,” Bellatrix greeted him in the baby voice she adopted when taunting him, which he despised. “Are you weady to play?”
Harry said nothing. His mouth was so dry from lack of water and so torn from screaming, he didn’t know if he could anyway. Bellatrix ran a long-nailed finger down the side of his cheek before releasing the hold she had in his hair. His head fell forward again. Then, without warning, she suddenly released the chains that held him pinned to the wall. Harry was caught off guard and let out a little gasp of surprise as he fell in a heap to the floor. Even if he’d known what she intended to do, he wasn’t sure if he could have supported his own weight.
Before he could even attempt to stand, however, Rudolphus seized his upper arms and pulled him to his feet. Dragging him over to the chair, he dropped Harry in it without a word. Harry groaned as his arms were wrenched behind his back. A recently knitted gash across his collar bone (a gift from Lucius) opened up again while his wrists were chained tightly around the back of the chair.
With a final tug on the chains, Rudolphus finished his work and stepped back as Bellatrix leaned in close to Harry.
“I’m going to make a man out of you, wittle Harry. Would you like that?” she breathed into Harry’s ear, making him shiver. “Or maybe you already are.” Pausing, she cocked her head to consider him.
“Have you and the blood traitor been enjoying the company of the mudblood, hmm?” she asked before biting down on his earlobe, drawing blood and a hiss of pain from Harry, but no admission. “No, I don’t think so. Too noble, too naïve,” she decided, answering her own query as she strolled around his back, trailing her hand along his bare shoulders before coming to a stop in front of him.
“Or maybe the Mudblood isn’t your type? Perhaps the blood traitor’s little sister, then. Is that it? She’s a very pretty girl. Did she let you touch her, wittle baby Potter? Did she give herself to you?”
Although Harry tried to remain stoic, he could feel the heat rising in his face as she studied him. Then she smiled widely.
“No, I think not. She would have gladly given it to you, though, wouldn’t she, Harry?” she purred.
Harry swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He could feel himself starting to shake, breathing more heavily. He remained defiantly silent, but he was starting to become panicky now. She couldn’t possibly be saying what he thought she was saying. They hated each other. Her husband was feet from them. Surely he would object to what she was suggesting? Torture he could endure. This was more frightening by far. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears and feel the dread churning in his empty stomach.
The truth was, he’d never, he and Ginny had never. Though he fantasized about it a lot, they’d never done more than some heavy snogging. He’d never been the aggressive one in either of the two short relationships (if that’s what you wanted to call them) he’d been in. Both Cho and Ginny initiated every kiss, every touch. Harry never dreamed of asking or taking more than what they’d offered. He was so unused to any physical affection at all, having never received any from the Dursley’s, that he simply didn’t know how to ask for it, or so feared being rejected that it never occurred to him to try.
Bellatrix licked her lips and stood up slowly, still watching him closely. Her eyes traveled over his face. He knew she could see the panic in his eyes and his pulse pounding in his neck, but he couldn’t hide the signs of his fear. Then, with a flick of her wand, she removed Harry’s remaining clothing, his dirty, ragged, and torn blue jeans and his boxers, his shirt having been torn to shreds and discarded after a round with Lucius and his knife.
Harry yelped in fear and shock, looking quickly to Rudolphus, hoping that he would somehow stop this. But Rudolphus was leering at him, his hand hidden down the front of his robes.
Icy dread filled Harry’s veins then, and he began to struggle in earnest. Bellatrix approached him. He kicked out at her with his leg, neither of them having been tied to the chair, but she was too quick for him. She hit him with the Cruciatus curse, and he screamed, writhing in the chair in agony, but she lifted it almost immediately and quickly cast another spell, binding his ankles to the chair legs.
Harry was left panting, weak with the effort and now utterly defenseless against her. She approached again. Straddling his thighs, she caressed his cheek once more. Harry jerked his head to the side, away from her touch. It was the most he could do, bound as he was.
Purring, she trailed her hand down his chest, over his nipple and down his ribs, leaving red fingernail marks everywhere she touched him. His resistance was arousing her further. Her eyes were dilated, her nostrils flared, and his might have looked the same, but for entirely different reasons. Harry could smell the sweat and fear coming off of him mixed with the smell of her arousal. It made him gag.
She reached for his flaccid member then and seized it in her hand. His terror mounting, Harry tried to push back with this toes. Whimpering slightly, he tried to topple the chair, frantic to get her off him, to release him, but it was useless. She pulled on his cock, the skin pulled up and over the head as she squeezed him painfully. Her hands were cold around his heated flesh, making him feel nauseous, revolted that she would touch him there. Then she started to stroke him, leaning into his face, perhaps to taunt him more. Harry didn’t give her the chance.
Jerking his head forward with as much force as possible, he caught her by surprise when his forehead smashed into her mouth. Bellatrix reeled backwards with a shriek of pain, releasing him as blood poured from her mouth. Harry was left seeing stars himself, blood trickling into his eye. Maybe it was hers, maybe it was his. He didn’t know, and he didn’t care. All he felt was a flood of relief. An angry Bellatrix he could handle. He hoped he’d angered her enough to abandon her original plan and resort to simply torturing him. But although she was most definitely angry, she recovered quickly and smiled at him, looking feral now with her broken teeth stained with her own blood. It made him go cold all over.
“Oh, Potter,” she said, dropping the baby voice. “I’m going to make you pay for that.”
Harry believed her as she spat a mouthful of blood on the floor. She wiped her face with the back of her sleeve, though her torn lip immediately welled up with blood again. Growling, she grabbed him once again, and although he wasn’t completely flaccid, he took satisfaction in knowing that her ministrations weren’t entirely successful either.
Even though he’d never been touched like this before with any hand but his own, he knew that he was not fully erect, and if he could stay that way, it would be difficult for her to get what she wanted from him. Seeming to realize this herself, she leaned down unexpectedly and took him into her mouth.
Harry’s whole body jerked in surprise, and he let out a yell of fear when her warm, bloody lips slid over him, afraid at first that she intended to tear him apart with her teeth. Fighting like hell to control the body that wanted to betray him then when it became clear that wasn’t her intent, he groaned as she began to suck hard. The idea of Bellatrix touching him like this was repulsive. The image of her mouth around him, seeing her head in his lap was disgusting.
The Death Eaters and Voldemort had taken his parents and his childhood from him. This hated woman had taken his Godfather from him, too. He couldn’t allow them to take this one last thing away from him, his innocence. Though he remained semi-hard, he didn’t know how long he could keep fighting, with her head bobbing up and down on his shaft and the incredible suction she was creating with her mouth. It was all lost a moment later when she bit down in anger or frustration. Harry froze as he became instantly hard, the pain doing what the pleasure could not.
Bellatrix growled deep in her throat, her lips still around him, and then slowly, she slid him completely into her mouth, taking him in, down her throat all the way to the root. Harry shuddered and then gasped as she dragged her jagged teeth along his shaft before releasing him with a wet pop. Standing up then, satisfied with her work, she quickly removed her robes. She was wearing nothing underneath.
Rudolphus grunted from beside them, startling Harry. He’d almost forgotten her husband was in the room. He hadn’t come to his wife’s aid when Harry had broken her teeth. It appeared that he was just here to watch the show, which disgusted Harry even further. Glancing at him, Harry realized that the fronts of his robes were open, and he was stroking himself as he leaned against the table. Harry could see the red swollen head of his cock peeking out through his fist with every stroke, and a fresh wave of nausea flooded Harry. The bastard was getting off watching this!
Bellatrix quickly straddled him, grasping him from behind, and guiding him to her entrance. Harry began to panic again when he felt the head of the erection he couldn’t will away, penetrating her.
“Please don’t do this,” Harry begged her, finally driven to speech in his desperation. “Please!”
She said nothing, merely looked into his eyes, watching his reaction as she sank down onto him, sliding home, taking him all the way inside her. All three of them groaned. When he was fully seated inside her, she began to rock her hips, back and forth. Slowly she ground her pelvis into his with her mad eyes still on him, reveling in his reaction while Harry whispered a denial each time she rocked into him.
“No… No... No...”
Grasping the back of the chair Harry was tied to, Bellatrix threw back her head, striking up a rhythm as she rocked faster and faster over him while her husband grunted and panted next to them. Harry felt like he was going to be sick. It felt incredible, and he hated himself for feeling it. Biting down on his lip, he tried to block it out, tried to separate himself from it like he had with all the other torture he’d endured in this Godforsaken place. Crawling into a dark hole within himself in an attempt to protect his sanity, he’d taken refuge there while the Death Eaters did unspeakable things to him. It was the only thing that kept him from breaking down in here, from screaming in continual agony, from crying and begging them to stop, or to kill him.
He’d found that dark hole inside him the first day of their capture, and it was the only reason he was still here. The only reason he, Ron, and Hermione were still alive. That outlet seemed to be closed to him now, though, because this wasn’t excruciating pain he was experiencing. He couldn’t push himself away from the pleasure of it.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried desperately to pretend that this was Ginny, instead. That his first time was with her and not the violation he was experiencing at the hands of Bellatrix, but he couldn’t do that either. A tear leaked out of the corner of his eye and ran down the side of his face, the first one they’d ever gotten out of him.
Suddenly, something wrapped around his throat, a piece of cord, or a rope that was constricting his breath as it was pulled tight around his neck. His eyes flew open, and he bucked wildly in the chair, desperate for air. Bellatrix was still riding him frantically now, her face flushed with pleasure while Rudolphus strangled him from behind. Harry opened and closed his mouth, trying frantically to draw breath, his hands scrabbling at the chair while, at the same time, pressure started building in his balls. The pleasure surged each time their bodies crashed together. Stars started to appear before his eyes. His heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline flooded through him from the panic, and goose bumps erupted all over his body.
Then, as the need for breath overwhelmed him, and his sight began to dim, Rudolphus finally released the cord an instant before he blacked out. Harry immediately exploded into orgasm. His whole body jerked as he gasped and choked, gulping great lung-fulls of air while his seed pumped into Bellatrix, her muscles contracting around him with her own orgasm as she milked him.
When they were both spent and Harry was left dizzy and shuddering, she grasped his face, holding handfuls of hair in each fist and kissed him hard, thrusting her tongue roughly in his mouth and cutting off his air again. Then she pulled back, sucked his bottom lip into her mouth and bit down hard. Harry yelled as blood poured from his lip into both of their mouths. She swallowed it while lifting herself off him and immediately cast a Cruciatus curse on him again. Rudolphus in turn, appeared to have vanished the chair because Harry fell to the dirt floor, arms still shackled behind his back, screaming in pain. His whole body was arching off the ground as he contorted in agony.
It went on a long time. Harry prayed for the blackness of unconsciousness to take him, but it didn’t, maybe because of the adrenaline still coursing through him. He didn’t know and was beyond caring now as he flopped and writhed like a landed fish on the shore. Then it was over, and Harry was left panting, all of his muscles spasming in the aftermath, curled on the dirt floor, naked and bleeding, covered in bruises and coated in Bellatrix’s and his own juices.
With difficulty, he rolled onto his side and then up. Sitting on his knees, his head spinning, he retched, but there was no food or water in his stomach, only a small amount of blood, which he spat out. He remained there on his knees, still panting, praying for it to be over, for a while anyway. He needed some time before the next round to re-group. But then he was abruptly grabbed by the back of the neck, his head forced roughly into the dirt floor. Rudolphus was on his knees behind him now, and Harry instantly knew what was about to happen. Rudolphus hadn’t just come for the show. He fully intended to participate!
“NO!” Harry screamed, fighting wildly to throw Rudolphus off him, but the hand pinning his head to the ground wouldn’t budge, and with his hands tied behind his back, Harry couldn’t push himself off the ground. He heard Bellatrix’s evil cackle of laughter, and a surge of hatred shot through every particle of Harry’s body. He must have become electrified or something for a moment because Rudolphus yelped and quickly released him.
He’d done wandless magic. Something similar had happened once when his uncle tried to strangle him the summer before his fifth year at Hogwarts. Before Harry could struggle up, however, Rudolphus had recovered and seized him again around the throat. Still cursing, he pinned Harry’s face to the ground with one hand. With the other, he grasped Harry by the scrotum hanging between his parted legs and squeezed. Harry stopped struggling immediately, panting hard, his teeth gritted in pain. But when Rudolphus spat on himself for lubrication and he felt the tip of Rudolphus’ cock pressing against his entrance, Harry lost all thought of anything else except getting away as he screamed and fought and kicked like a wild animal.
Oh, God! This couldn’t be happening to him. Please, God no! But he couldn’t get away, and Rudolphus was pressing against his opening.
Harry was whimpering incessantly now, blind with panic as Rudolphus pushed into him, the swollen head now past Harry’s tight ring of muscles. It burned as it stretched him open. Rudolphus growled when Harry squeezed his muscles around him, trying in vain to expel him.
Digging his toes into the dirt, Harry tried to inch forward then, to push himself away from Rudolphus’ invading cock. He heard Rudolphus chuckle behind him, enjoying Harry’s fruitless struggle. Then he stopped his relentless drive forward a moment to watch Harry fight against him, or to draw out the moment, to prolong Harry’s fear before he finally took him.
“Brace yourself, Harry, dear,” Bellatrix told him as she ran her finger down his spine, cackling madly. “This is going to hurt.”
Then Harry heard sounds that made him sure they were kissing behind him, both of them aroused it seemed by what they were doing to him.
Rudolphus gripped his neck tighter, and Harry’s whole body tensed up. Then he screamed, inhaling dirt as Rudolphus gave a single, powerful thrust and rammed into him. It felt like a branding iron had seared his insides. Then Rudolphus pulled back again for another thrust. Harry felt his skin tearing, and he gagged up blood and dirt and bile.
Harry begged for him to stop, bowing up his back to get away from the pain of it, to lessen the depth of his penetration as Rudolphus slammed into him again and again while Harry continued to cry out in agony.
His own blood was mixing with the pre-cum coating Rudolphus, and with his way more lubricated, he struck up a rhythm. After several more thrusts, he let go of Harry’s head and grasped his hips, pulling Harry roughly back into him over and over. Pain radiated through him every time their bodies slammed together, but Harry had stopped resisting. Something inside of him was finally breaking.
Harry’s submission appeared to spur Rudolphus on, and he pumped into Harry harder, ramming into him without mercy. It seemed to go on and on. Through the haze of pain, Harry could vaguely hear Rudolphus’ grunts of pleasure and Bellatrix’s cackle of laughter as they taunted him with lewd comments about what a slut he was, and how much he was enjoying it.
Let it end, he prayed. Please.
Then Rudolphus grabbed him by the back of the head, jerking him roughly off the ground by his hair and grasping him around the waist with his other arm. Harry’s head was tilted painfully far back so that he was staring up at the ceiling now, his back arched, his arms bound and useless between their joined bodies.
Pumping frantically, erratically, and growling in his ear, Rudolphus finally came. Harry could feel his vile warm sperm shoot into him as Rudolphus shuddered, his cock jerking inside Harry with every spasm. When he was finished, he released Harry to fall back onto the dirt floor.
Harry’s cheek hit the ground, and he felt nothing more. It was all fading. Wisps of gray fog seemed to be covering his eyes, and he was so grateful for the darkness finally overtaking him. He’d never welcomed it more. He wasn’t aware of them dragging him back into the cell with Hermione and Ron, of being shackled to the wall nude and bleeding, covered in dirt, blissful nothingness.
~ . ~