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The Devil You Know	By : JBankai89 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 2281 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, I gain nothing from this but a way to pass the time.

Chapter List
- 1-Taken
- 2-Hostage
- 3-Survival
- 4-Home
- 5-Aftermath
- 6-Suspicions
- 7-Confessions
- 8-Recovery
- 9-Verdict
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A/N: I don't do Teen stuff too often, but this was something I couldn't get out of my head, and I needed to write it down. This story is based on the account of the True Crime story of Julian Buchwald and Carolynne Watson, as told on the podcast, Casefile.
Warning: Though this is rated teen, some content may not be suitable for all readers. This story contains attempted rape, and is not tagged as Rape/Noncon because I felt that that would exaggerate the inclusion of it in this story. If you read on without taking these warnings and the tags into account and wind up triggered, that's your own fault.
The Devil You Know

Chapter One – Taken

Draco stood before his bedroom mirror, smiling indulgently to himself as he admired his appearance.

It was clothing much more casual than a Malfoy would normally wear, especially in public. Sturdy dark slacks and dragonhide hiking boots, a fitted deep green shirt rolled up to the elbows and unbuttoned to just below his collarbone, showing off a column of fair, milky skin. He thought that he looked good, but in hindsight, he felt as though he should have expected a less-than-positive reaction from his mother. After all, it seemed as though she had made it her mission to call into question every single decision he made since the war had ended. This included who he befriended, who he dated, and where he spent his time.

And his clothing, apparently.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy!” she cried, “what on earth are you wearing?”

Draco groaned.

He'd been stepping out of his bedroom, and was just about to turn for the stairwell that led to the front hall when his mother's shrill voice stopped him short. The fact that his father was elsewhere was something of a small mercy. He was less critical about menial things like his attire, but he was still happy to voice his disapproval in Draco's other recent life choices.

“Harry's taking me on a nature walk,” Draco explained simply, his teeth clenched a little in anger at his mother's attitude, “I didn't want to get my good robes dirty.” Instead of the explanation placating her, Narcissa's expression soured, and she gazed at her son with a look of deep disapproval.

“That...that boy is a bad influence,” Narcissa complained, and Draco did not bother to try and resist the urge to roll his eyes. Here we go again. “Oh, don't misunderstand me,” she continued quickly, “I am deeply grateful that he helped us stay out of prison, but Draco, he is not right for you.”

“He's only not right for me, in your eyes, because he's male, and as such we can't have a natural-born heir,” Draco snapped, and narrowed his eyes at his mother. Her lips pressed together into a thin line, but she did not contradict him. Not that she would, given that that was the true root of her and his father's disapproval of involving himself with Harry Potter. “I care for him, Mother, and he cares about me. What I do not care about is whether or not the Malfoy line dies with me. Generations upon generations of Pureblood mania, inbreeding, and outright hatred have all but ruined this family. What familial pride am I supposed to have? Harry makes me happy. As a mother, shouldn't that be enough for you, that your child has a happy life?”

When she still did not answer, Draco's eyes narrowed into an angry glare, and he quickly grabbed his cloak before he stormed down the staircase and out of the house.

Outside, he nearly collided directly into Harry, who had his fist raised, and he had been about to knock on the door. Harry's arm fell to his side as he laughed, and he reached for Draco, tugging him close to pull him into a kiss.

“Hey there,” he said, and Draco smiled at him.

“Hello,” Draco replied, “fancy running into you here.”

Chuckling, Harry moved to wrap an arm around Draco's waist, and he felt himself turn red at the intimate touch.

“Ready to go?” Harry asked, and Draco nodded.

“Yeah, let's go.”

Arm in arm they left the grounds of the Manor, and Draco struggled to ignore his mother's glaring eyes boring into his back as they went.

~*~

Harry led Draco in Side-Along Apparition to an area of forest that Draco did not recognize, but there were clear paths winding away from where they stood, making it clear that this was an area frequented by hikers. It was a bright, clear, summer day, and the trees were thick with greenery, birdsong filled the air, and it was coupled with the distant rustle of the other woodland creatures that occupied this particular area of the forest.

“What do you think?” Harry asked as he wrapped his arms around Draco's middle and perched his head on the blond's shoulder. Draco smirked and leant back against him, enjoying the feel of the embrace for a long moment before he decided to answer.

“Not exactly haute wizarding society,” he teased, and Harry snorted as he reached out to swat his arm.

“You can live one afternoon without presenting yourself at a gala or high end restaurant of some kind.”

“Wanna bet?” Draco asked rhetorically, and grasped at his chest, “I'm already having withdrawal symptoms!” he made himself tremble, and Harry rolled his eyes as he took his hand.

“Come on, I'll show you a good time without spending boatloads of galleons.”

Harry tugged on Draco, and with a small smile, he allowed himself to be led into the forest.

Despite the lovely day, Draco and Harry saw no other people on the twisting paths as they wandered and explored. Mottled green sunlight filtered through the trees, springy moss bounced beneath their feet, and the occasional tree root was the only downside to the trek, which had caused Draco to trip more than once, but Harry always caught him before he fell.

It was much more enjoyable than Draco would have expected, though in truth, any time he got to spend with Harry was always enjoyable.

They stopped for lunch upon an outcropping of rock, Harry spreading out a blanket and producing a shrunken picnic basket that had been filled with chicken salad sandwiches, fruit, and a peculiar fizzy sort of pumpkin juice that tickled his nose, which Harry had sworn was a muggle specialty.

“I dare you to offer this to my father the next time you come for dinner,” Draco said as he held up the drink to let the sun refract off the glass bottle, then sipped it again. “Amazing. I never thought muggles were as clever as that.”

“And have him hex me for tarnishing his lips with a muggle invention?” Harry teased, “I'll just bring over a portable telly and tell him everything on it is real...”

“Are you ever going to let that go?” Draco demanded, his face flushing a deep pink as Harry howled with laughter. “It was one time! How was I supposed to know that muggles don't really have sky-ships like that?”

“You could've taken Muggle Studies,” Harry replied between giggles, “then you'd understand that they only pretend to boldly go where no man has gone before...”

“I hate you,” Draco grumbled, and Harry grinned at him, leaning across to brush his lips over Draco's in a light kiss.

“I know.”

They worked off their lunch by weaving back through the forest, Harry pausing frequently to point out particular birds or other creatures that they came upon during their walk.

Draco was beginning to feel a little tired, and though Harry claimed that they were headed back the way they had come, he was beginning to wonder if Harry actually knew where they were going, given that the forest around them seemed to be thickening, not the reverse.

At the same time however, Draco was reluctant to actually leave.

There was a distinct peace in being out here with Harry, in leaning against his side, and merely enjoying one another's company.

Harry was also touching Draco continually—something Draco was not wholly accustomed to, but for good reason.

As a Pureblood, to remain a virgin until marriage was still a common practice, and when Draco was with Harry around his parents, or in public, they could do little more than hold hands. He knew that half-bloods and muggleborns were much freer with their sexual exploits, and for all his bravado, Draco was still a believer in the old ways. He wanted to be pure.

When Draco had admitted this to Harry, he'd feared that Harry might misunderstand him—or leave him.

Instead, Harry seemed to understand his preference, and beyond that, he seemed to want to respect it.

At first, at any rate.

As time progressed, Draco often had to stop Harry before things would get too heated. It wasn't that he didn't want to do it, because more often than not he did, but he wanted to follow in the footsteps of his father and grandfather—he wanted to remain celibate until marriage.

Every time that this happened, Harry would offer Draco a disarming smile, and lean in to peck his lips lightly.

“Sorry,” Harry said, but continued to hold Draco, close enough that he could feel Harry's excitement over their activities, “got a little ahead of myself.”

As every time before it, Draco would forgive him, and they would move on.

Today however, Harry had behaved himself.

Aside from a few chaste kisses, he did nothing more intimate than wrap an arm around Draco's waist, or grab his forearm when he'd spotted something darting through the brush. It was something of a relief, given that Draco always found it exhausting to explain to Harry again why he wanted to abstain from sex with him.

Overall it had been a pleasant, wonderful day, and as they wove through the trees close to sunset, Harry suddenly placed a hand on Draco's arm, stilling his movements, and immediately Draco felt a distinct chill in the air.

“What is it?” Draco asked, and at once Harry placed a finger to his lips.

“I thought I heard something...” Harry began, his voice cryptic and low, and Draco's stomach knotted nervously.

They both fell silent, but Draco didn't hear anything out of the ordinary. Harry's tense expression did not change however, and that alone heightened Draco's fear immediately. Harry was training to be an Auror, after all, he would know better than most when something didn't feel quite right.

“Wait here,” Harry said suddenly, and his hand dropped to squeeze one of Draco's. “I'll be right back.”

“Where are you going?” Draco asked at once, and Harry offered him a reassuring smile. He leant in and pecked Draco lightly on the lips, then brushed his free hand across his cheek.

“I'm just gonna check things out, don't worry,” Harry replied, and kissed him again. “Don't move, I won't be long.”

Draco opened his mouth to protest, but before he could even utter a single syllable, Harry had slipped into the trees, leaving Draco alone.

Draco leant against the tree with a huff, and stared at the spot from where Harry had disappeared from view.

God knows I care about him, but it'd be nice if he didn't act like I was some sort of delicate flower in constant need of protection...

The sudden thought immediately soured Draco's mood, and he crossed his arms while he vowed to have a word with Harry once he got back.

Five minutes passed by, and Harry had not yet returned. Draco was more or less unconcerned, though he began to tap his foot impatiently. The war had made Harry more than a little edgy, after all, it was no surprise that he had become overly cautious, even in places where he didn't need to be. Draco heaved a sigh and crossed his arms, hoping that Harry would return soon.

Five more minutes passed, bringing the total time up to ten.

Then twenty.

As it approached thirty minutes, Draco was beginning to get worried. Had something happened? He shuddered to think it.

He ignored Harry's earlier request that he stay put, and he stepped off the path in the direction his boyfriend had gone, determined to find him. This was just ridiculous.

The space he stepped into, just off the narrow paths, was thick with undergrowth and upturned roots, making it incredibly difficult to navigate.

Draco's clothes caught on branches, and he stepped through spider silk, but he could find no trace of Harry Potter. Even a simple Location Charm did not seem to work, but Draco guessed that that was less of a malevolent thing, and more to do with the fact that he was getting nervous, and his mind was not in the proper state for casting that sort of spell.

Draco hadn't deviated from the path for very long, maybe two hundred metres at most, when he was thinking of going back to the path to wait for Harry. Perhaps he'd gotten lost, Draco supposed, and forgot that he could simply Apparate back to the spot where he'd left Draco behind. He often thought as a muggle did, after all, and this would not be the first time that he'd forgotten that he was a wizard.

Draco moved to turn back, and at the same moment he heard a twig snap directly behind him.

He whirled around, but in his shock, he had only time to take in the sight of a man, hooded and cloaked, standing at his back, before pain beyond pain lanced through his head, and the world went black.

~*~

Narcissa had been taking her afternoon tea in the lounge.

It was lonely, with her husband at the Ministry for one of his Wizengamot-Ordered check-ins, and her son off with that boy, it was only her and the house elves in the vast Manor.

From the lounge, Narcissa had a perfect view of the front garden, and the black, iron-wrought gates that circled the house.

It was then that she noticed the parchment.

A scroll of parchment, wadded up, tied crudely with twine, and forced through the slats in the gate, a tiny shock of off-white against the black bars.

This was particularly strange to her, given that most normal people would just use Owl Post, not cram a letter into their gate.

Narcissa finished her tea, stood up, and swept outside to see what the piece of parchment was.

Up close, the parchment looked similar to how it had seemed at a distance—it was folded into a rough rectangle, not a scroll as she had first assumed, it was tied shut with twine, and it was worn at the corners, as though it had been handled very often—it did not look new.

Confused and curious, Narcissa unfolded the note, just as Lucius Apparated on the other side of the gate. She did not immediately look up at him, preoccupied with the note in her hands. Lucius tapped the gates with his wand and they opened to admit him, and at the same moment he witnessed Narcissa let out a blood-curdling scream before she sank to the ground in a dead faint.

All the blood drained from Lucius's face as he ran forward, and he snatched up the note with trembling hands. He read the short note, then sat down heavily upon the nearby stone bench. He had just barely managed to keep himself from toppling over.

He read the note again, and then a third time.

Lucius dropped it to the ground, and buried his face in his hands.

Even junior Death Eaters are still Death Eaters.
Marked pretty blondes will get what's coming to them.
If you ever want to see your son again, you will not contact the fucking Aurors.
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The Devil You Know