Harry’s eyes were pinched shut but still, salty tears escaped, rolling down onto the thin pillow and the dark hair that curled there. He could feel how he was being violated, taken against his wishes, again. He could feel him moving inside him and the restraints on his wrists and ankles chaffed with every thrust. His limbs pulled taught towards the four corners of the bed.
The first couple of times he had fought it; screamed out, at the alien sensations of another inside him and the pain of the force used. It had been a week since he had had the potion forced down his throat. He had felt his body boil and freeze all at once, melting and reforming into its new female form. He had lost all sense of his surroundings, of his own body; all he had known was the overwhelming pain which seemed never-ending, but in truth, after a few minutes, the pain had gotten too much and he thankfully lost consciousness.
He had woken up naked and strapped to the bed, in the small stone walled room, that was apparently to become his new home. Harry supposed, at that moment, he should have been terrified; he was trapped and all his senses felt wrong. His mind didn’t seem able to process the situation, however, probably due to the tiredness and occasionally uncontrollable shudders that hit his body; after effects of the potion and pain, he supposed.
His female form was petite, even smaller than his male body had been; the curves and breasts making his waist seem unnaturally narrow. His legs were toned but lacked the muscles that his Quidditch playing had formed and his arms were along the same lines. Messy black hair had grown slightly longer and was spread around his head and shoulders. The scar was unchanged, as were his green eyes, but the emotions, that could be seen in them, were not the loving or hopeful ones his friends would recognise.
He was not left alone to test the strength of his bindings for long before two people, he really hoped never to see again, entered the room. The look of glee that was on Voldemort’s face scared Harry more than his vulnerable situation had so far and he failed to notice that Draco Malfoy’s emotion-free face did not match the shock and apprehension that was in his silver eyes.
“Well well, my dear little Harry, what a pretty little girl you do make.”
Voldemort’s voice was breathy and Harry flinched as long cold fingers reached out to caress his cheek in an almost affectionate gesture that turned the Gryffindor’s stomach.
“Scared?” Voldemort hissed mockingly in Parseltongue.
Harry steeled his expression, he would not let the madman’s humiliation tactics beat him, though he suspected this was going to get a whole lot worse before it got better.
Seeing that the boy-turned-girl was not going to respond Voldemort went on.
“I have had a most interesting idea for what to do with you. Already you are weakened at my hand, humiliated and beaten, but young Draco here is going to help me out with this plan of mine. I would take care of this myself but this re-formed body of mine was not made to reproduce.”
These words had both Harry and Draco wide-eyed and trembling, actively avoiding each other’s eyes.
“N… but…. I can’t…” Draco stammered so quietly that his words were barely understandable, taking a few steps away.
“Oh but you can, Draco.” Voldemort turned from Harry to approach the young Malfoy, who seemed to now be frozen to the spot. “And you will, with or without your consent…” Draco didn’t even have a chance to react before Voldemort had raised his wand with a slight, almost disturbingly elegant, flourish. “Imperio”
Draco’s eyes became glazed over and he began to remove his clothing with no regard for his own modesty.
“Malfoy, fight him…! oh Merlin, Draco, PLEASE! Draco, you have to fight him on this.”
The higher pitch Harry’s voice had taken went unnoticed as what was about to happen against both his and Draco’s wishes was dawning on the restrained Gryffindor. The fear was starting to overwhelm him and he pulled on the restraints to no effect, other than to make their snake-faced captor laugh slightly.
“Please… Draco, don’t do this,” Harry implored, feeling tears forming in his eyes as Draco climbed up onto the bed fully naked. The pleading in his voice seemed to just make everything feel so much worse. “Oh, Merlin; not like this, please.”
As Draco moved between his slim legs and placed his hands on the curve of Harry’s hips, a gasp of shock escaped the Gryffindor’s lips and he forced his eyes tight shut, bracing himself for the unknown. Draco used his knees to force Harry’s legs even further apart, which was painful given the bindings on his ankles and Harry desperately tried to move his body away from the hardness, he knew to be Draco, pressing against his virgin entrance.
As the blonde boy forced his way into Harry’s body without patience, a wail of sadness and pain fell from the lips of the newly turned girl. He could feel Draco physically inside his female form, moving without grace or kindness. The act gave him no pleasure and he desperately, without success, tried to let himself be mentally elsewhere and as Draco came inside him a few minutes later, silent tears rolled down his face. Voldemort gave a small cackle of a laugh and left, commanding Draco to follow, leaving Harry alone, naked and violated.
It had been a week since that first terrible time but the bruises were still visible. Though which were from that first time, and which were from the times since, Harry was unable to tell. His hips and legs were decorated with a multitude of bruising in a variety of states of healing and colouring, his wrists and ankles fared little better.
The pain of where Draco pressed himself against the damaged skin was sometimes worse than the intrusion of his erection now, but that did not make the knowledge that he was being raped for the seventh time in seven days any easier to bear. Voldemort no longer bothered to accompany Draco, apparently having grown tired of watching after the first few days, and simply send Draco, under the Imperio curse, to do his bidding.
Harry was trying to think of happier times, imagine himself somewhere else when he felt something wet fall onto his breast. In shock, his eyes flew open and his head turned, and at that moment his and Draco’s eyes met. The silver and green orbs both heavy with tears waiting to fall like those on the pillow and the one the Slytherin has let fall onto the Gryffindor beneath him.
The Imperio curse meant that Draco continued to thrust into the petite female form of his school rival, but his eyes were full of regret, self-loathing and Harry was sure he saw fear.
“Ssss…” Draco tried to speak despite the curse controlling him, the sounds that escaped were less than a whisper. “Ssssooor…” another tear fell.
Harry found himself unable to look away.
“Sorry?” Harry whispered in confusion.
Draco seemed unable to respond, but the silver eyes told him that that had been the word he had been trying to force out.
“Please fight it, Draco. Please,” Harry begged again.
It seemed that he was unable to fight off the curse still but he came only a few moments later. The sensation of Draco’s seed inside him drew a whimper from Harry at the knowledge of what that could lead to; of what Voldemort hoped it would lead to.
Draco climbed off the bed; he threw a thin blanket over Harry’s abused body and dressed quickly. He managed to glance back at the tiny girl on the bed with the restrained tears now soaking his pale cheeks, before heading out the door. Alone once more Harry let his emotions flow, cries of grief and anger, desperation and sadness. The sound echoed in the small barely furnished room and stopped only when the trembling girl finally fell into a restless sleep.
A large man, Harry believed might have been Goyle Senior, brought a small bowl of water, another of cold soup and a piece of bread, as he had done every day since Harry had been brought here. Another man, Crabbe Senior if Harry’s suspicions were correct, stood just inside the doorway; a guard should Harry find the strength to fight; as if he would have stood a chance even against Goyle. The restraints were released and Harry automatically curled up into a ball, holding tightly to the blanket.
After a few moments Goyle grew impatient, as he did every day, and forced the bowl of soup under Harry’s nose and demanded he ate; the Gryffindor complied. He had refused the first day and ended up being force-fed the food and since then, had decided this was not something worth fighting against the death eaters on. Goyle permitted Harry to relieve himself in the chamber pot in the corner of the room before casting a simple cleaning spell on the mess and Harry’s body.
“Back on the bed.” Goyle growled out.
Again, Harry did as he was told; his refusal the first day had resulted in a full body bind spell which had not been removed till the next day, an experience he did not want to repeat.
The bindings were reattached while Harry stared aimlessly at the bare stone ceiling. How long would he be here; the single week that had passed felt like a month and he feared how much worse this could all become should Voldemort’s plan come into fruition and he fell pregnant.
Harry was left with much time to think, to wonder what the madman wanted with a child, that was something he didn’t stand a chance of understanding yet; so he was left dwelling on the events of his capture, wondering how long till he was found, wondering if he ever would be found at all.
The plan had been working; the Horcruxes were all gone, bar that dreadful snake, Nagini. Even the one inside Harry himself was gone now, the lack of pain in Voldemort’s presence proved that. Harry remembered Dumbledore telling him he could go back; that he could finish the war, stop the man that had once been Tom Riddle. However, he had opened his eyes to himself face to face with none other than Bellatrix Lestrange and oh how she did roar with rage upon seeing that the Boy-who-lived had survived once more.
Voldemort’s fury was unprecedented and Harry feared that what was left of his sanity left him at that moment; his plans and his vision for the world coming second to his all-consuming need to be powerful over Harry Potter; to control Harry Potter. Binding Harry in ropes and returning to Malfoy Manor; Voldemort left the death eaters to take control of the school, meaning many of those who had fought for the Order of the Phoenix were likely either dead or had had to flee.
They had come so close, so little of Voldemort’s soul remained, but with Harry left powerless to help and without any idea as to who was left alive, the end of the war, the freedom they had fought so hard for, seemed like a faraway dream.
The next week passed much as the first did and Harry was glad he was feeling more and more detached from the reality around him. The rapes didn't stop, though Harry was sure he heard Draco try to apologise a couple of times and maybe some of the aggression was lessened; maybe it was just his need to hope.
Some of the bruising seemed to be fading and the damage to his wrists and ankles improved when he learned not to fight against his restraints. Not that he could find the strength to do so any more; his restricted diet, and that he had barely been allowed to move from the bed for so long, left Harry’s muscles weak and his determination broken.
After three weeks Harry could no longer find the tears to cry and would stare at the wall, only moving when a pair of death eaters would come to pour soup down his throat; Voldemort had finally done it, he had broken Harry Potter.
This seemed to only make Draco more determined; the lost look in those green eyes scared him. He longed to see Harry fight back but it had become clear that Draco would have to fight for both of them now.
Harry had managed it; he had learnt to let his mind drift into his own world, where he was free where he was flying; on brooms, on the back of dragons, on thestrals. He didn’t notice that Draco was slowly managing to fight off the Imperio curse more and more, that he was being taken almost lovingly and that almost all his bruises were gone.
It had been nearly a month when Draco managed to push through the mental barriers of the Imperio curse and momentarily took control back; he blinked in surprise, feeling like he was taking breaths of air after being underwater for too long. He was kneeling between Harry’s legs, his hands gripping the rough blankets of the bed, either side of Harry’s head.
‘No’ he thought, ‘I will not do this again.’
The Gryffindor was, as had become normal now, staring at the wall, eyes wide but unseeing. He was a broken man-turned-girl and for the first time ever Draco wanted to save someone else more than he wanted to save himself.
“NO!” Draco cried out loud as he pushed himself up on to his knees, drawing Harry’s attention to him for the first time in weeks.
In a room on the other side of the mansion, the Dark Lord paused as he was about to Crucio one of the lower ranked death eaters, for not finding enough information fast enough about the Order of the Phoenix. He had felt the Imperio on the young Malfoy boy break, he was being defied. Hissing a cry of frustration he apparated to outside the heavy door of Harry’s stone prison.
Draco was still kneeling between Harry’s legs, both boys wearing matching expressions of surprise when Voldemort slammed the door open. Red eyes flashed with rage as he threw Draco against one of the stone walls with an easy swish of his wand; Harry could do nothing but watch wide-eyed, suddenly aware of the dangers Draco had been risking by fighting the Imperio.
“You defy me boy? You think your mind is strong enough to keep me out, that you do not have to obey your master?”
Voldemort used a silent spell to keep the blonde pinned to the wall, spread eagle, and his feet unable to reach the floor. The snake-faced madman pressed so close to the young Malfoy that the breath of each word could be felt but still Draco didn’t look away and maintained eye contact.
“No master,” Draco was thinking quickly, he had to explain his actions. “I… I was concerned that he may already be with child and did not wish to harm the child if he is.”
This seemed to have been the right thing to say because Voldemort allowed him to slide down the wall such that he was able to stand again; though his legs were shaking so much he was barely able to stay upright.
Without another word the madman turned on Harry and waved his wand, muttering a spell under his breath. Harry’s eyes were fixed onto the Silver ones that were nervously watching Voldemort; Draco was protecting him but why? Weren’t they supposed to be enemies? Harry supposed not so much anymore, Draco had not identified him when he had been at Malfoy Manor and Harry had saved him in the Room of Requirement that day.
Draco let out a quiet, almost inaudible whimper as a smirk spread across Voldemort’s face.
“Well young Malfoy, seems your protective instincts are to be trusted. Come.” The last word was a simple order which Draco didn’t even consider not obeying, following the tall, cruel man from the room.
At the doorway, he met Harry’s eyes, which were wide with apprehension and mouthed the only words of comfort he could find. ‘It will be okay.’
Harry’s stomach was doing summersaults and his head was spinning, his breath felt rough and hot in his throat. Already? He had assumed he had time. He cursed himself for having eaten and drunk the meals given to him, they probably contained fertility potions. He couldn’t even defend and protect himself at the moment, how was he to protect his child.
This wasn’t just his child though, this was Draco’s child too; wasn’t family everything to the Malfoy’s? Harry felt his heart flutter. Maybe Draco meant it when he said it would be okay. Draco had already risked everything to try to help Harry. What lengths would he go to to protect his own child?
“Father.” Draco strode into the library where his father was reading some text that he was not familiar with.
“Draco?” Lucius placed the book down on the table in front of him, turning to face his son.
Draco looked pale and his brow was furrowed with thought and anxiety. Lucius waved a hand, indicating that he should join him on the sofa and he raised his eyebrows in question at his son. The younger Malfoy took the seat but after meeting his father’s eyes for a few moments, turned his attention to the floor in a very un-Malfoy like show of apprehension.
Lucius’ eyebrows rose even further. That complicated things.
“The Dark Lord must be pleased.”
Draco just nodded and the two men sat in silence. The air was tense, both dwelling on their wish to protect that unborn child, which was, after all, a Malfoy; Family.
“Father?” Draco pleaded for a response, forcing his voice to not betray the desperation he felt.
“Draco, you will do as the Dark Lord commands, I beg you; do not act impulsively.” Lucius’ voice was stern and commanding.
Draco met his eyes, allowing Lucius to see the unshed tears there.
“Father, I have to do something. I may not have chosen to conceive this child but this is still my son or daughter we are talking about.” Draco voice cracked as he begged.
“You may have fathered this child...”
Both Malfoys jumped to their feet and turned to face their master at the sound of his cold voice, falling to their knees with bowed heads.
“...but the child is mine, Draco.”
Neither Malfoy dared breathe too loud, let alone speak. This was not a conversation that they should have been caught having and Lucius found himself glad that, despite his own desire to protect his grandchild, he had at least had the sense to maintain the façade whilst in the same house as the Dark Lord. He cursed Draco’s stupidity.
“It would seem, Draco, that the only thing I can trust you to do lately, is to protect Potter and your bastard child.” Voldemort moved around the room to the kneeling Malfoys and summoned Draco’s wand into his hand. “I shall be kind and allow you that. Nott, Goyle. Draco here will be keeping Mister…” Voldemort cackled before correcting himself, “… Miss Potter company.”
This was not something they could fight and found themselves resigned to their fates. Lucius watched on as Draco wore a look of fear and horror; he had no choice but to allow himself to be dragged in the direction of the room where Harry and the unborn Malfoy child were being kept.
Harry had fallen into a restless sleep and he had nightmares filled with images of children, with various combinations of Malfoy and Potter traits being snatched from his arms and handed to Voldemort; his and Malfoy's desperate screams of fear for their child echoing in his ears.
He awoke suddenly when the door to his room was slammed open and could only look on in shock when the slender form of Draco Malfoy was pushed inside with enough force to make him fall to the ground before the door slammed shut behind him.
He scrambled around for a moment getting to his feet, throwing himself against the heavy door, pounding on it with his fists.
“NO! Damn it, No!" Draco stopped, knowing such attempts were more for his own frustrations than in any real hope of escape. "Oh …” He paused, unable to find the word he was looking for. “…Shit!” he managed eventually as he rested his forehead against the unmoving door.
“Draco?” Harry asked hesitantly.
The blonde rounded on him as if he had forgotten he was in the room too, but on seeing him, was at his side in seconds.
“Oh, Salazar, I am so sorry, Harry, I tried. I never wanted to hurt you like this; I wanted to get us both out...” He wrapped his hand around the cuff at Harry’s wrist and seemed to be focusing very intently on it.
“Draco…. What are you doing?”
“Trying to at least free you from these bindings; now be silent so I can focus.”
“But you don’t have a wand,” Harry pointed out, wondering if the blonde had finally lost it.
“Honestly, are you sure you are even a wizard at all Harry?” Draco chastised, “Wand-less magic is possible if you want something enough.” He glared at Harry’s surprised expression. “And yes, believe it or not, I am pretty set on the idea of getting both you and our child out of here as soon as possible.” Draco sighed. “Is the idea of OUR child ever going to stop being weird?”
Harry chuckled, the sound felt alien. It had been a long time since he had had anything worth chuckling over. He supposed he still didn’t really, but yet Draco had managed to make this terrible situation seem just a little bit better; maybe even comical, even if only for a few seconds.
They settled into an uneasy silence while Draco tried with all his might to release the restraint on Harry’s wrist; Draco tried for what was maybe an hour before taking a seat with his back against the stone wall and allowing tears to fall.
“Thank you for trying, Draco.” Harry’s voice was shaky but his words sincere. “You ready to tell me what you did to make them throw you in here with me?”
Draco shook his head and Harry let it go, for now, turning his head to the side so that he could attempt to sleep once more.
Draco awoke, feeling very uncomfortable from having fallen asleep where he sat against the stone wall and floor, with Harry’s screams ringing in his ears.
“No! Please… help me….!”
Draco was on his feet in seconds and realising that Harry was having some kind of nightmare, knelt on the bed to shake him awake.
“Harry, Harry, wake up… Harry!”
Draco was getting worried. Harry wouldn’t wake and he sounded so scared, tears were on both their faces.
“Oh, Merlin, please wake up Harry,” he begged quietly
“Help me… Draco, please stop them,” Harry pleaded in his sleep. "Please, stop them!"
“I am right here Harry, I won’t let them hurt you, it is just a nightmare. Oh, Salazar…”
Draco closed his eyes and begged for a way to be able to comfort Harry, to put a stop to whatever was distressing the normally brave Gryffindor so.
A small clink of metal made Draco’s eyes fly open, to see Harry’s restraints falling away. He had done it, wand-less magic; apparently, he wanted to comfort Harry more than he had thought.
Without even stopping to think, Draco lay down on the bed next to the small girl and pulled Harry into his arms, her head against his chest, as she automatically curled into a self-protective ball. Harry’s shouts of fear had turned to gentle sobs as Draco gently ran a hand over her hair and after maybe ten minutes they were both asleep again.
Harry awoke feeling safer and more comfortable than he had done in at least a month and it took him a few moments to realise that not only was he no longer restrained but that he could hear the heartbeat in the chest he was sleeping on. There were arms wrapped protectively around him and to say he was reluctant to move would have been an understatement, at least until he looked up enough to recognise exactly whose arms it was that he had woken up in.
“Draco?” Harry mumbled, before the name and implications sunk in.
He pushed the boy off him, whilst shuffling towards the other side of the bed, accidentally going too far and falling to the floor.
Harry struggling from his arms, and the sound of the girl's body hitting the floor, woke Draco from sleep and he was alarmed to see Harry scrabbling backwards to get away from him. By the time the blonde was fully awake he was watching the small girl, with her knees pulled up to her chest, back against the wall, sobbing quietly behind the dark hair which was hiding her face, the thin blanket pulled tightly around her small frame.
“Harry?” Draco moved around to the other side of the bed. He laid his cloak over her back before moving to take a seat on the floor, facing the Gryffindor, whilst maintaining a space between them. “Harry?” Draco tried again.
Harry didn’t respond but his sobs seemed to lessen after a few minutes. He mumbled some words but, as his face was pressed against his knees, Draco couldn’t make out any of the words.
“Harry, I really need you to look up, I can’t understand what you are saying.” Draco felt like he should be making snarky comments but was unable to bring himself to be anything other than comforting to the trembling girl in front of him.
After a few moments, Harry forced his eyes up to meet Draco’s.
“You freed me? How? What happened?” Harry's voice was quiet and shaky, his fear as clear as day.
Draco furrowed his brow in concern at the memory of the nightmare Harry had apparently been stuck in.
“You were screaming out in your sleep, I tried to wake you, you were shouting for me to help you, but I couldn’t and… well… then the restraints were gone… then… errr…” Draco shuffled slightly awkwardly. “Well, then I… kind of held you and … well, you seemed to calm down enough to sleep properly again. Guess I must have fallen asleep after that.”
“Oh… uh… thanks.” Harry said quietly, looking away from Draco.
“Harry?” Draco asked hesitantly.
Slowly the Gryffindor looked up again, but he did not speak.
“Can you tell me what your nightmare was about?”
Harry frowned slightly and shook his head.
Draco dropped his gaze to the floor again as they fell into another slightly awkward silence.
“You know I won’t hurt you right?” Draco asked after a few minutes, he almost sounded concerned, “either of you,” he clarified, nodding his head in the direction of where their unborn child was growing.
Harry had almost managed to forget for a moment that he was now with child and looked down at his belly. He slowly wrapped his arms around himself. Draco had only tried to help him recently and he had felt so safe when he woke up in his arms. Was it so wrong, feeling safe in Draco’s arms?
Harry chanced a look up at the blonde again and reminded himself that this was Draco’s child too, that the Slytherin had had no more say in its conception than he had. It was difficult to remember though and images of Draco violating his body would flash through his mind.
Draco was still watching Harry questioningly and eventually was rewarded with a small nod.
“Yeah, I know, Draco. It’s… it’s just all a bit weird, and I can’t help but… I don’t know. I just can’t just trust completely right now,” Harry tried to explain.
“That is understandable.” Draco nodded.
The door swung open loudly and they both looked up to see Goyle Senior frowning at them both.
Draco tensed, preparing himself to defend Harry, an action the pregnant teen didn’t miss. However, the Death Eater didn’t even enter the room, he slid a tray of food across the floor and cast cleaning charms, before sealing them inside their stone prison once more.
“Hungry?” Draco inquired with a small trace of his usual smirk lurking around the corner of his mouth, to which Harry managed a small, almost shy, smile and a nod.