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Flesh of My Flesh	By : lashton Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 9435 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
Title: Flesh of My Flesh
Series: Legacy of Light
Author: L.Ash
Rating: R
Disclaimer: All non-original characters and situations are property of J.K. Rowling, et al. No copyright infringement is intended. No money is being made from the content below.
Summary: In a fit of madness, Lucius Malfoy rapes his only son. Draco flees to Hogwarts where Albus offers him protection from his father�s manipulations and schemes. But all is not as it seems. The consequences of the rape extend far beyond what anyone could have imagined and Draco finds himself developing a spectacular and rare ability: far sight. Post-OotP, Seventh-Year, HPDM slash, RWHG het, Gryff-Slyth!Friendship-fic.
Warning: MPreg, rape/non-con, incest/chanslash, drug-use, dark!Harry, dom-sub!ships.

Additional Warnings: This is intended as a dark!fic. The �R� rating is fully earned. The content below is not suitable for children. If you are under the age of 17 (or the appropriate age equivalent for your area), please turn back now. The material is rated for rape/non-consensual sexual situations, and dark themes including drug-use, under-aged pregnancy, domestic abuse and violence.
Author�s Note: �Flesh of My Flesh� is, yet, un-beta�d. It is intended as a �Prologue� of sorts to a WIP series, Legacy of Light. �Flesh of My Flesh� is half-way completed and is a stand-alone piece. Since this is a draft, I have broken it into sections, but when it is completed, I will reformat accordingly. All feedback is requested and appreciated. Flames will be ignored.

Legacy of Light
Laurence Ashton
Prologue:
Flesh of My Flesh

+++
"Are you cold?"
Draco hesitated and glanced at the boy beside him. His shoulder-length raven hair was caught on the cool breeze and his cheeks were wind-stung and red. Draco smiled at him and shook his head. Already his companion was offering his coat.
"No, but thanks," said Draco, pulling his hands out of his pockets. They continued walking down the softly lit lane in silence. The people on the road were moving slightly away from them and whispering and staring. Draco scowled at them when he passed, and they diverted their gazes momentarily, but Draco could feel their heavy stares returning after a few moments.
"No one's probably used to seeing you about anymore." Draco shrugged. "I just mean, for two years you've mostly kept to yourself, and � "
"Don't talk about that," said Draco, quickening his pace so that his companion had to jog to catch up with him. They turned down a side street called Albatross Pass. Flickering torchlight cast large dancing shadows on the brick walls, making their surroundings almost come alive and loom over them.
"I'm sorry."
"Is this the place?"
Draco looked at the weatherworn wooden door set deep into a red-painted frame. A rickety old sign swayed over the step displaying a sparking wand and the name The Spell Master. Draco scrunched his nose in displeasure and sighed heavily.
"Yes. You'll love it, I promise. The bloke who runs this place is bloody brilliant."
"It doesn't seem particularly safe," said Draco giving a sidelong glance. "Timothy, this isn't normal first date activity." Timothy gave Draco a Look. Draco sighed and looked up at the sign for a moment longer. "You should woo me before you start hoping to get into my pants, you know."
Timothy grinned. "Your father won't find out that you came here, and with a bloke no less, if that's what you're worried about. I told him that I had a high-priority client for him and he agreed to close for tonight. It's just you and me, babe." Draco still didn't look convinced. "Please?"
Draco nodded. Timothy's grin turned feral as he reached for the knob, but Draco did not change his mind. Timothy led Draco into the darkened, smoky room. Draco choked on the thick, wafting incense and Timothy directed him to take a seat in one of the red wingback chairs against the wall. Draco hesitated before taking a seat. Timothy gave him a disarming smile before disappearing behind the folds of a black velvet drapery that separated two rooms.
A moment later, Timothy returned with a tall olive-skinned man with straggly black hair and yellow gapped teeth. Looking at the towering mutant of a man, Draco considered bolting back to his manor and locking himself in his bedroom for the next week. Timothy must have sensed this because he took Draco's hand and led him over to the man, who, it seemed, was wise enough not to try shaking Draco's hand.
Timothy introduced them briefly. The man, Gregory Jones, gave a sweeping bow towards the back room. Draco hesitated before going inside. As they passed, Timothy dropped a pouch of gold into Gregory Jones's hand, and they shared a conspiratorial grin.
In the room a red cloth covered table was set up with two overstuffed black chairs. Along the walls were shelves of glittering potion bottles, crystals, and colorful smooth round stones.
"Please," said Gregory in a gruff-sounding voice. "Take a seat, Mr. Malfoy. Make yourself comfortable." Draco glanced at Timothy, who was rocking back and forth eagerly, and scowled. "I assure you, everything is perfectly safe. Are you allergic to anything?"
"Peanut and fairy dust," supplied Timothy when it seemed that Draco would not. Gregory nodded and went over to his potions shelves and browsed the vials on display. Watching anxiously, Timothy ushered Draco over to a chair and urged him to sit. Soon Gregory returned to them and handed Draco two vials, one of a frothy violent purple liquid, and the other of a clear blue one. Draco examined them both closely and sniffed at them. Gregory looked disapproving but he did not say anything.
Eventually Draco downed them both. They burned going down, and Draco choked over them. They left a foul, sour taste in his mouth and made his eyes water.
Gregory then turned his wand on Draco and sent a burst of red orange light from his wand. It hit Draco square in the chest. Draco's breath hitched in his throat as it made contact. Then, of a sudden, there was a burning in his stomach that spread into his limbs, and he grew lightheaded.
Panting uncomfortably, Draco curled his fingers around the arms of the chair. Timothy touched his arm, trying to be comforting. Draco realized with a jolt that Timothy's touch burned, but nicely, as if he were sitting in front of the fireplace on a bitter cold winter day.
"Are you all right, Draco?" asked Timothy, a shy touch of concern in his voice.
Draco nodded briefly, but he did not trust his voice and so he said nothing. After a moment, the burning receded and Draco was left with a funny little tingle that started in his belly and pushed up, down, and out, arching and passing along all of his nerves. He was left panting and dizzy and feeling oddly happy and free.
"Anything else, Timothy?" asked Gregory, but his voice was skewed to Draco's ears. It was low and rumbling and maniacally smooth and creamy.
Timothy inched his hand over Draco's torso, his touch a billion tiny pinpricks of tickling pleasure. Draco let out a heavy breath and shook his head, trying to concentrate on what was said.
"Do you have anything for manifestations or exhibitions?" asked Timothy in a soft, cool voice. As he said this, he pressed against Draco's stomach and shifted lower to his belt, and Draco, overwhelmed by the sensations that made him shudder and lose focus, brushed his hands away. "And perhaps something to� loosen him up a bit?"
Gregory grinned and turned back to his potions. A moment later, he provided two more colorful liquids for Draco to take. Draco tried to refuse, but Timothy got up and stood behind him, and he drew Draco's head back and poured the first and then second into his mouth, making Draco swallow them on reflex.
Choking, Draco bent over double. A sharp, twisting pain grew in his stomach and he wrapped his arms around himself, wracking with shudders as the pain intensified and shot though his legs and made his toes curl.
"Draco," said Timothy. It sounded as if twenty people had called his name. Draco shook his head to clear it. The pain went away. "Draco.... Are you all right?"
"Fine," Draco rasped as he sat up again. His head was swimming and the room was swirling around him. He grimaced and closed his eyes for a moment to regain his composure. "What� what was that?"
"Shh," said Timothy, running his fingers through Draco's hair. "Don't worry about that.... Thank you, Mr. Jones. We appreciate your services. All matters are, of course, still confidential. We'll be going now. Draco is� tired. I should get him home."
"I� I'm not � "
"Come on, then, Draco," interrupted Timothy, rising. Gregory gave Timothy a little wink and predatory grin.
Timothy led Draco back onto the main road and near-carried him back to the manor. More people stared at them on the way back because Draco moved through the streets leaning heavily on Timothy and his eyes were glassy and wide as if he were inebriated.
After their walk back, Timothy took Draco to his bedroom and urged Draco into bed. Draco remained pliant as Timothy removed Draco's outer robes and loosened his collar and sleeves, and removed his shoes and socks.
"This isn't normal first date activity," said Draco quietly, sitting up to get a look at Timothy, who was lighting candles and drawing the draperies closed. "And you certainly shouldn't be here. My father � "
"Your father doesn't have to find out," said Timothy. He turned back to the bed and Draco and smiled. "Is your father even home, Draco?"
"Well� no, I don't think so, but.... There are wards. And� I don't think I want to do this anyway."
Timothy sat on the bed beside Draco and ran his fingers along Draco's jaw and nuzzled his neck. Draco pushed at him, but weakly, and Timothy brushed Draco's hands away and pressed closer. Despite himself, Draco moaned and leaned into the touch.
"My father is coming back and you shouldn't be here. You should� should leave. Now."
"No," whispered Timothy in Draco's ear. "You don't want me to leave. You want me to touch you some more."
Draco blinked. What Timothy was saying made sense. Timothy's hands were everywhere, tugging at his clothing and burning into his skin, making his flesh tingle and making his back arch to get closer.
"Don't you want me to touch you, Draco?"
Draco did not get a chance to answer. The door to his room burst open so hard and fast that it bounced back off of the wall. Lucius Malfoy was standing in the doorway, eyes blazing, crazed, wand outstretched.
"Draco!" Lucius screeched. "What do you think you're doing?"
Draco fell back onto the bed, his breath coming forcefully and his head once again swimming. Blurred, he could make out his father storming across the room and he could hear Lucius screaming a hex at Timothy, who flew backwards into the wall. Lucius glared at him for a moment, breathing just as heavily as Draco, and then he turned on his own son.
"You� you betrayed me! You whore � how dare you! How dare you� with another man!"
"Daddy," said Draco, blinking up at his father. "I think � "
Draco's head jerked around when Lucius slapped him. For a moment he stared across the room, cheek throbbing, and watched as Timothy scrambled out of the room. Slowly he turned back to his father, brow furrowed.
"Whore � whore!" Lucius screeched. "I'll� I'll show you! You want to ponce around on me, sell yourself to cheap tricks you pick up in the village? You'll be sorry, Draco! I'll show you what it's really like!"
Lucius grabbed Draco's wrist, and Draco wrenched forward with a yank. The sensation of his father's fingers on his arm was bewildering, light and hard, tingling and sharp all at once. Draco watched with wide, surprised eyes as his father conjured a silk scarf and tied Draco's arm to the bedpost. The silk was cool and soft against his skin, molten almost, and it sent shivers down Draco's spine.
"Daddy?" he asked quietly when his father grabbed his other arms and did the same. "What� what are you doing, Daddy?"
"I'm showing you, Draco. I'm teaching you. You'll never ponce around and betray me again."
"But � " Lucius conjured another scarf and used it to gag him. Through the haze of the spell, a panic was rising in Draco, and he twisted and struggled against his bindings. He tried to appeal to his father using words, but they were unclear and the scarf choked him and he could only make muffled screams.
Like a madman, Lucius tore through Draco's trousers and then pulled Draco's pants off and threw them carelessly behind him. You'll never betray me again, Lucius was whispering over and over again, in Draco's ear and against his skin and between kisses along Draco's hipline.
Draco gave a muffled shriek when a slick finger was shoved inside of him, and he tried to twist away and kick at his father. The spells were working again, but even through heightened sensations, Draco was overcome by panic and pain.
A hand pressed sharply against Draco's hip and forced him still on the bed. Two fingers replaced the single digit, and the fingers pressed against the walls of his anal canal, moving in a tight circle, brushing painfully against his prostate.
Draco screamed again, but the sound was so muffled that it carried no farther than the edge of the bed. Lucius grinned and gave a vicious twist, his manicured nails scratching against the tender membrane, and Draco jerked and tried to scramble back and away.
The fingers pulled out of the tight passage, and Draco tried to close his legs against his father, but Lucius forced them back open. Positioning himself against Draco's anus, Lucius looked up and met his son's terrified, hurt eyes and smiled sadly.
"This is for you, Draco. I can't� I won't stand for it! If you've got to be a pillow-biter, then you'll not be it with anyone else� I can't� I can't let you. You'll see. You'll never betray me again. This will make you understand."
Draco shook his head, as much to clear it from the hazy understanding that the spell incited in him as to convince his father otherwise. But Lucius had already turned away. A hand snaked up Draco's side and came to rest against Draco's Adam's Apple, and squeezed.
Draco choked and tried to squirm back into the bed, away from his father's crushing hand, but there was nowhere to go. He was trapped, and as he became lightheaded once more, he stilled, and Lucius took that opportunity to shove through Draco's anus carelessly.
Draco gave another screech and a jerk, and he clamped his thighs onto his father's hips, begging a moment's reprieve at least. Lucius hesitated a second, something of the loving father back in his crazed eyes as he smoothed Draco's sweat-soaked hair and nuzzled his neck comfortingly. But the moment soon passed, and he gave his first swift, long thrust, tearing through his child with a wavering smile.
"Tease," Lucius said, his voice low and cold. "You have teased me for years and now you have betrayed me! Whore! You rentboy faggot!"
Draco shifted and squeezed his eyes shut, biting his lip, as if trying to distract himself from the thundering pain. His father was heavy atop him, and the bonds were tight and his fingertips were throbbing and numbing. Draco gripped the bedpost as best as he could and concentrated on breaking it into pieces.
His breathing was shallow and forced, and he was growing dizzy again, and nauseous as well. With all of his strength he yanked on the bedposts. They didn't give, but he succeeded in pulling himself up into a different angle, in which his father couldn't penetrate him as deeply or as harshly.
Then he shifted again and wrapped his legs around his father's waist and used all of his remaining strength to hold his father in place for a moment. Lucius stilled, but then a hand clamped on Draco's chin and nails raked across Draco's face, and Draco's eyes flew open.
"Watch me," said Lucius as he reached back and forced Draco's legs apart. "Do not look away. You will regret that."
The threat hung between them for a moment more, and during that time, they were pressed together, but motionless. Then Draco struggled some more with his bonds; he could feel them beginning to burn and tear his outer layers of skin, but that mattered little to him.
Lucius started moving again, holding Draco's gaze, and Draco didn't dare look away in case Lucius decided to carry through with his threat. His thrusts were swifter this time, more hurried, and finally Lucius shuddered against Draco and gave a spasm. It burned, but as Lucius began to move away, Draco was thankful that it was over.
Draco hadn't expected the jolt of pain that came when Lucius pulled out of him, and he tensed and grimaced. He was still looking into his father's eyes and he could see that the mad glint in them had dimmed and the cool gray were now molten with regret.
Tentatively Lucius released Draco's gag, and Draco gave a few, shuddering deep breaths and swallowed, his Adam's Apple bobbing.
"Draco � "
"Shut up," interrupted Draco coldly. Lucius watched him warily for a moment, and Draco tugged impatiently on his bonds. Giving a jerk in surprise, Lucius hurried to unknot them, careful not to brush against Draco accidentally.
Now free, Draco scrambled away from his father and sat huddled on the other side of the bed. He watched the brightness of his father's gaze dim and go blank and he fought the urge to retch. After all that, Draco still felt a tug of affection and warmth when he looked into his father's eyes, and it was bewildering.
"I� I don't know what came over me!"
"Don't say that!" Draco shrieked. Lucius blinked and looked away, abashed, but Draco's rage was roused, and he sneered and hissed as he shifted. "Watch me."
Lucius looked back at Draco and winced. Draco could not imagine what his father was seeing in that moment, for he did not feel intimidating at all. He felt weak and stupid and whorish. His father had taken Draco's innocence, and Draco felt as if he had done nothing but help him along.
"I'm not blind. I've noticed your� regard for me. But I never thought you'd hurt me."
"I'm so � "
"Don't you dare!" yelled Draco as he tried to move further away, but there was nowhere to go. "You don't get to apologize! You don't get to assuage your guilt and� and make me into your rentboy faggot! You don't get to� to kiss and make up."
Lucius reached out a hand to Draco and Draco jerked away so quickly that he fell over the edge of the bed. His father hurried around to help him up, but Draco bit the hand held out to him until he tasted the copper of blood. Surprised at the taste, the normalcy of his father's blood, Draco yanked back and scrabbled away. He backed against the wall and pulled his knees to his chest and stared as Lucius backed across the room until he too was pressed against the wall. Lucius's hands were in the air, a sign that he meant no harm, one of them dripping blood into the cream carpet, and Draco gave a snort.
"I'm leaving," he said.
Lucius nodded. "An� anything you want, anything you need, it's yours. Everything I have is yours to � "
"Don't. You. Dare." Lucius blinked slowly and closed his eyes a moment. Draco waited until his father was looking at him again before he continued. "All night you talked shit about betrayal, Father. How I betrayed you� by� what? Not coming to your bed? So you made me into a whore. A fucking� fucking rentboy. But I'm not. Not now, nor will I ever be, and least of all for you. Keep your gold in your damn pocket. Consider this one fuck on the house."
Draco swiftly dressed pulled on a clean pair of pants and trousers from his wardrobe and grabbed his outer robe and his wand. Lucius watched him closely, still pressed against the wall, hands in the air, and that is how Draco left him.
Once out in the hallway, Draco pulled the door closed behind him and spelled it shut and put an alarm on it that would ring over the grounds when opened again. Then he ran, ignoring the tearing and pain and heartache, adrenaline making his mind clear once again, to the boundaries of the Malfoy property. He darted through the streets until he was a little way away from the manor and stuck his wand out.
With a loud pop, the Knight Bus came careening to a stop in front of him and the attendant, a pimply-faced boy a little older than himself, stepped down and eyed Draco warily.
"What can I do for you, Mr. Malfoy?" he asked cautiously.
"I�" said Draco, looking down at his feet, face flushed and ashamed. "I� I need to get� to go away. I don't have any money."
"Are you all right, Mr. Malfoy?" asked the boy, reaching out to touch him.
"Don't touch me!" Draco screamed, stumbling away. "Please, don't touch me. Don't hurt me."
The boy stood back and to the side. Draco risked a glance and saw that the boy had a strange gleam in his eyes. Draco was reminded of the madness and jealousy in his own father's eyes and he felt tears welling. Swiftly he looked away, down the street, which was no longer bustling with activity. Yet he felt as if there were a million eyes raking over his skin, violating him although fully clothed, and he was humiliated.
"I'm not going to hurt you, Sir," said the boy. "Where would you like to go? We'll take you there right away."
Draco looked at him suspiciously, but he said, "I� Take me to�" He thought for a moment, wondering when he last felt safe out of his father's presence. "Take me to Hogwarts," he said at last.
The boy nodded and stepped aside, and Draco went onto the bus and took a seat in the front. He was still burning inside, and now his guts were twisting and churning, and he stared at his hands, willing himself not to vomit.
There was another woman on the bus. She was old and draped in mottled furs and wore plastic bags on her wrists as if they were bangles. She came over to sit beside him and he winced and moved away. This time she did not follow, but she stared at him unabashed.
"Change of plans," said the boy. "We're headed straight to Hogwarts. Get a move on, eh?"
The bus started up again and it rode through a few of the streets before turning and driving straight at a brick wall. The bus kept going and building speed and it disappeared before it smacked the wall with a loud pop, and Draco saw that they were now screeching down Main Street in Hogsmeade.
The driver stopped in front of the gates to let Draco off, but the attendant was still watching him worriedly.
"Go on," said the old woman who had tried to sit beside Draco. "I'm not in no hurry."
"I'll walk with you," said the attendant. "I'm Stan."
Draco hurried off of the bus and crossed onto Hogwarts grounds. Stan followed two steps behind Draco as Draco gingerly made his way around the lake and across the lawn. By the time that they made it to the doorway, it was already opened and three people were standing there, lanterns out.
"Draco Malfoy," said Professor McGonagall by way of greeting as he approached the trio. Headmaster Dumbledore gave Draco a piercing look, and Draco looked away, refusing to meet his eyes. He was not stupid enough to look upon either him or Snape, who were both skilled Legilimens and could see into Draco's thoughts, especially in his drugged up, distraught state.
"This is the last place that I felt safe," he said quietly.
"Madam Pomfrey is waiting for you in the hospital wing," Dumbledore said softly. "Would you like us to conjure a stretcher?"
Although Draco was feeling lightheaded again and the pain in his bottom made walking excruciating, he declined. He could not trust anyone to use his wands on or for him. It was foolish.
"He called for us just outside of Malfoy Manor," supplied Stan in a concerned voice. "We brought him straight to you."
"Thank you, Mr. Shunpike," said Snape, the first time he'd spoken. "About the fee�"
"Free of charge, Sir." Then he added, quieter. "That's policy, at least. Good� goodnight. Goodbye, Mr. Malfoy. I hope all turns out well for you." Stan tipped his hat and walked away.
"Let's get you inside," said McGonagall in a soft, oddly soothing tone. Draco walked slightly behind them to the infirmary where, as Dumbledore had said, Madam Pomfrey was waiting up for him. Draco fret over what they might know about what happened back at home as Pomfrey healed the bruise forming on his cheek and cast a general healing spell that counteracted the potions he'd taken earlier.
"You'll have to tell us what happened so that I can heal you properly, now," said Madam Pomfrey, hovering over where Draco had seated himself on the edge of a cot. "I won't know what to look for otherwise."
"That's not entirely true," said Draco, hoping that she would take the hint and not push the issue. "And I'm fine now, thank you. I don't need anymore healing."
"Please don't lie to me," said Pomfrey. "I only want to heal you, to fix you right up and � "
"You can't fix me," said Draco so fiercely that she took a step back in surprise. "I can't be healed. This is permanent."
"You are not a healer, Mr. Malfoy," said Pomfrey. Draco was aware of the burning gazes of the three who had met him on the doorstep. He willed himself to shrink into nothing and disappear. "I'll be the judge of that."
"Don't judge anything. I'm fine. It's all right. What happened� it doesn't matter. I asked for it, anyway, I guess."
Snape moved closer and placed a hand on Draco's shoulder. Draco winced and jerked away.
"I'd rather not be touched," he said by way of explanation when Snape looked at him curiously. "I've had enough of touching."
"I see," said Snape. Draco knew that he had said too much. Now they all knew what had happened to him. "Who did this to you, Draco? Who is it that hurt you?"
"It's too late to do anything about it," said Draco. "I'm here now, and safe, and that's all that matters. He won't come after me again, I assure you."
"Look at me, Mr. Malfoy," said Dumbledore in a commanding voice that made Draco want to obey. He looked over, with the intention of looking away but he could not. Watch me, said his father and began thrusting and grunting again. Do not look away. You will regret that. "We will make him pay for what he has done to you."
"I don't want payment of any kind," said Draco fiercely. "I'm not a whore for money or for revenge or for justice. It's over, at least. He can't get to me here, and I don't plan to leave. I would just like to take a shower."
"If that is what you want," said McGonagall in a worried voice. "Poppy will have to check you first, of course."
"She can't see me like that."
"I am afraid that she must, my boy," said Dumbledore. "The damage may be worsened."
Draco felt himself tearing up so he squeezed his eyes shut and lowered his head, letting his fringe fall into his eyes. The four adults shifted around him quietly, filling the room with palpable awkwardness.
"Please," said Draco in a soft tone, practically begging. Preparing to respond, one of the four sighed loudly. Knowing what the answer to this would be, Draco nodded in acquiescence, biting his lip in order to hold back a sob. He needed to endure only one more violation, he tried to tell himself, but the thought of being exposed after having been used thus, and by his own father, no less.... It was enough to shatter him into a million shards of helplessness and self-loathing. "I understand."
"It will just be you and me," said Madam Pomfrey, as if this would comfort Draco.
As he readied himself to submit to Madam Pomfrey's invasive probing, Draco could taste blood.

+++
Lucius crouched against the wall in his son's bedroom, head in hands. He hadn't moved from this spot in the hour or so since Draco had left, forever. Across the room, the navy silk sheets were stained and wrinkled and half-strewn across the floor, painting the picture of Lucius's guilty mess. The smells of sex and fear and blood were still fresh in the air, assaulting Lucius and he squat prone, silently weeping.
What had he done?
He could not be certain what madness had come over him. When he had felt the pull of the wards, the spells he'd long wove around Draco for Draco's own protection and prosperity, a rage had frozen his heart to stone and set his nerves aflame with jealous wrath. His son would take a lover.
In all of Draco's years, Lucius felt a sinful and treacherous regard for the boy, but he had long mastered those unholy desires, squelching them into the shadows of his soul. He'd tried to prepare himself for the day when Draco would no longer love him most of all, when some unworthy tramp would steal away Draco's affections and attentions, leaving Lucius cold and lonely, and for awhile, Lucius thought himself triumphant. Then the wards alerted him to Draco's condition, and, returning home to contain Draco's virtue for a little longer, Lucius also thought he'd managed his wrath as much as could be expected of him. Until, that is, he saw the boy, some dirty-blooded hooligan from the village who presumed to court Lucius's pure, precious son.
And what Lucius had done afterwards�. The look in Draco's eyes�. You have teased me for years and now you have betrayed me, Lucius had said to Draco, and though the words and acts hounded Lucius with pain, humiliation, and guilt now, what hurt Lucius most had been far worse. Draco had believed in him � believed Lucius when Lucius called him a whore, a tease, a betrayer � had believed that he, Draco, deserved Lucius's traitorous touch, deserved it because he had somehow unthinkingly encouraged it.
"Lucius," said a quiet voice above him, hissing. In surprise, Lucius jerked and looked up, blinking at the wand aimed between his eyes. His wife stood over him, hair swept into a sleek chignon, still wearing a silk ball gown and traveling cloak, yet, because her eyes were wide and dark, and four bloody half-moons were painted in her palms from where she'd made a fist, she managed to look wild. "Where is Draco?"
"He is gone," said Lucius, voice gruff and breaking. "He will never return."
"What have you done to my son?" she demanded, fingers curling around the wand end until her knuckles were transparent white. Lucius glanced behind her to the bed in disarray, and Draco's torn clothes strewn about the room. He could not prevent gagging at the sight. "You� you tore at him," she whispered. "You destroyed him."
"I don't know what came over me. The wards� I saw� he� with one of them, and�."
A fire burned in Narcissa's eyes as she leaned slightly forward, looking as if she were going to lunge in a feral wrath. But she drew back and took three shuddering breaths, each growing more ragged until Lucius was certain that she fought back tears.
"I always knew�. But I didn't think� I was foolish." She choked and glanced at the bed, then turned to Lucius, baring her teeth, a savage light in her eyes. "I am going to kill you."
Draco jerked awake, struggling to breathe. His chest was tight and pained and he choked as he tried to swallow his breath.
"Lumos," he whispered, and a pale golden light shot out of his wand tip to illuminate the room. The walls were painted yellow and familiar paintings hung on the walls over the rows of beds. He was in the hospital wing at Hogwarts, safe, alone. There was nothing to be afraid of.
"Mr. Malfoy?" said the sleepy voice of Madam Pomfrey as she came into the room in her dressing gown and night cap. Draco turned his wand on her and glowered at her through the dark. "What is the matter, child? Did you have a night � are you having trouble sleeping?"
"I� yes," said Draco. Adrenaline jolted through him as Madam Pomfrey came closer and he could see the wand in her hand. "Stay away," he told her, watching the wand warily.
"Mr. Malfoy � "
"Don't�. put that thing away."
Madam Pomfrey's lips twitched, but she seemed to be sympathetic and complied with his request, shoving the wand into her pocket, where it remained in plain view. She came closer still and Draco tensed.
"What happened?"
"I saw� my father," said Draco. "Mum is going to�. Would you tell Dumbledore to keep her from hurting him? Please."
"It was only a dream, Mr. Malfoy."
"It was not."
"All right," said Madam Pomfrey. "I shall speak with the Headmaster immediately. Please get some rest, Draco, and try not to think on your father. All will be well."
Madam Pomfrey made a hasty exit from the infirmary. Only when the door closed behind her and her footsteps faded down the hall did Draco relax once more. He sighed heavily and slumped against his pillows.
"Daddy."
As Madam Pomfrey had suggested, Draco blinked away his tears and curled on the bed. He turned the light out from his wand and lay still in the darkness, feeling it creep over him like a thousand roving hands; the sensation sent swirls of nausea through his gut and he bit his lips to keep from weeping as he wished to do. Eventually the world blurred into a warmth of color and Draco drifted to sleep.
All through the night he clutched his wand in his fist, untrusting of even the shadows. Untrusting especially of the shadows.
TBC
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Flesh of My Flesh