Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

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
- 1
- 2
- 3
Chapter Two – Hostage

When Narcissa next woke up, she found herself stretched out on her bed, still fully dressed, and with a cold compress applied to her forehead.

Narcissa blinked several times, but she could not recall going for a lie-down, and therefore she had no idea what she was doing there.

“Mistress Narcissa is awake!” a sudden small, squeaky voice cried, and Narcissa sat up sharply as one of their house elves bounced into the room, looking deeply cheered that she had woken up. “Master Lucius will be happy to see that Mistress is no longer asleep!”

It all came rushing back.

The letter, Lucius arriving home, and the contents that that foul parchment had contained.

If you ever want to see your son again, you will not contact the fucking Aurors.

She shivered.

“Where is my husband?” she asked the creature, and its ears drooped a little.

“He is in the lounge with guests. He is trying to find Master Draco.”

Wondering if Lucius had called on the Aurors after all, she jumped up and hurried down to the lounge. She was in for a shock however, for the guests that the elf had mentioned were not Ministry officials—at least, not fully qualified ones.

Sitting across from Lucius when Narcissa entered the room were the two unlikeliest people to enter this house of their own volition. Even seeing them there, Narcissa wondered fleetingly if she was experiencing some sort of highly detailed hallucination of some kind.

“Mrs Malfoy,” Hermione Granger said as she nodded politely at the older woman. She was pale, and there was a haunted look in the girl's eyes that she had not seen since her imprisonment in their dungeon so long ago.

It was then that she noticed that there was not one parchment note upon the table between Granger, Weasley, and her husband, but two.

“What's going on?” Narcissa asked as she joined her husband, and he took her hand silently. “Why are you two here?”

“See for yourself,” Weasley said, his voice shaky as he pushed one of the notes across the table towards Narcissa. She looked down at it, her brow furrowed with confusion. It was a different note, just as threatening, and in the same hand as the one that had been wedged in the Manor's gates.

Pathetic attention-seeking boys who imprison innocents are foul, loathsome creatures.
Snivelling false heroes will get what's coming to them.
If you ever want to see your friend again, you will not contact the fucking Aurors.

“I don't understand,” Narcissa said as she glanced up and she frowned at her husband, “this is...it's...” she trailed off and pressed her fingertips to her temples. Lucius laid a comforting hand on her knee.

“Our theory is that whoever kidnapped the boys used these notes to throw us off, given that they probably thought it was unlikely that Mr Weasley and Miss Granger would seek us out, or vice versa.”

“The first forty-eight hours are critical,” Granger said, “that's what everyone says. If we're to have any hope of finding Harry and Draco alive, it'll be within that time period.”

“I still don't know if contacting the Aurors is a good idea,” Weasley added with a grimace, “what if it gets back to the kidnapper? They might panic and kill them.”

“Assuming they haven't been killed already,” Lucius filled in.

“Don't say that, Lucius!” Narcissa burst out, and the two younger adults stared wide-eyed at her. She ignored them as she rounded on her husband. “Draco is not dead, how dare you give up on him so easily!”

“I am trying to be realistic, Narcissa,” Lucius replied evenly, apparently unruffled by his wife's tone. “Holding onto false hope will not be a helpful strategy.”

“By that logic, it sounds like we've got nothing to lose by contacting the Aurors,” Granger said, her voice badly shaking. Weasley wrapped a consoling arm around her.

“We certainly have more chance of finding them if we contact the authorities,” Lucius added, “this could very well be a bluff, to keep us from pursuing them.”

“B-but what if it's not a bluff?” Granger asked in the same trembling tone, “wh-what if whoever has them does kill Harry and Draco if they find out we contacted the Aurors?”

“We haven't the resources to find them ourselves, Miss Granger,” Lucius replied icily, as though speaking to her civilly was a real trial for him. “It's a catch-twenty-two. If we do nothing, they die. If we do something, they may die, but they also may not. I will not be held hostage by some madman.” Narcissa did not miss Lucius's soft whisper of, “not again.”

With that soft, simple statement, a decision was made.

Narcissa stood without a word to anyone.

She could feel the eyes of her husband and the two former Gryffindors follow her every movement as she approached their large, ornately carved fireplace. She reached for a small brass pot with a tightly sealed lid that sat upon the mantle. She opened it, and extracted a pinch of glittering powder.

“The Ministry of Magic, Emergency Services,” she said in a dull, hollow tone of voice, as she tossed the powder in.

~*~

The first thing that Draco was aware of was pain.

It was a throbbing pain that seemed to lance through his skull like an electric shock, and it made his eyes water.

The second thing he noticed was that he was very cold.

But it's summer, Draco thought groggily, why am I cold?

He shifted experimentally, and realized two very alarming things at once—the first was that he was naked, and the second was that his wrists and ankles had been bound together.

Draco's eyes snapped open.

He did not know where he was. There were trees, thick, and growing densely together. The dim light of oncoming evening made it hard for Draco to see, and therefore he could not study his surroundings beyond the simple sight of the thick trunks that surrounded him.

Draco's breath escaped him in terrified pants as panic began to set in.

Where was he?

Where was Harry?

What was going on?

Movement in the shadows sparked Draco's attention, and he felt a wave of dizziness wash over him as he recognized the form of his kidnapper.

He wasn't overly tall, indeed perhaps an inch or two shorter than Draco was, but from Draco's position, it was difficult to tell. He was slender, not overly muscular from what Draco could see, but beyond that, Draco had no idea what his kidnapper looked like, for he was still hooded and cloaked.

He wore black robes; they were fitted but not constricting so as to not inhibit his movements, and under the hood he seemed to be wearing some sort of balaclava. Black boots and gloves covered his hands and feet, and he was crouched near to Draco, barely a foot away.

If he had noticed that Draco was awake he made no sign, but continued to stare at Draco in eerie silence.

Suddenly, he reached out a hand to touch Draco, and ran his fingers along Draco's side, as though mapping out the shape of him.

The feeling of those gloved fingers made Draco's skin crawl, and with some difficulty he jerked himself out of the reach of his captor.

“Don't you dare touch me,” Draco hissed, though his voice shook badly through his attempt at bravado. His kidnapper did not react, though his breathing did become audibly laboured. He reached out to grip onto the bonds of Draco's wrists with one hand, and he used the other to force Draco onto his back.

“No!” Draco protested, and thrashed violently as the man climbed on top of him, still fully clothed, and he used his weight to pin Draco in place.

Panic truly set in as Draco continued to fight, certain now that the man's intent was to rape him, then probably murder him.

He would not let that happen.

The man huffed in frustration, and he drew a knife. He pressed the glinting blade to Draco's throat; the silent order was clear—don't move.

Draco immediately froze, and his captor set the knife aside. His free gloved hand now moved to caress Draco's upper chest, as though determined to map every contour of Draco's body to memory.

Draco whimpered, and tears began to film over his eyes.

“Please,” he said, trying a new tactic, “don't do this. Do you want money? I have money, I could—I could make you a very rich man, just, please, don't do this...” Draco hissed sharply when his kidnapper pinched one of his nipples, not hard enough to hurt, but certainly hard enough to shut him up. This small touch caused his fear to amplify, and his breath hitched as he trembled violently.

The man never removed any of his clothing, but continued to idly touch Draco, as though he had all night to see to the task.

He bowed forward as though to kiss Draco, and Draco could feel his hot breath through the balaclava. He clenched his eyes shut, and whimpered as the hot breath trailed from his mouth, along his cheek, and towards his chest. All the while, he held down on Draco's wrists with one hand, and used the other to trail down from Draco's chest, to his abdomen, and lower still.

“No,” Draco panted, and began to struggle again, his eyes bulging with fear, “no, please! Don't, don't do this!”

Fearful tears sprang to Draco's eyes again, and he squirmed even more fitfully as his captor grunted above him. Draco could not tell whether it was from the exertion of trying to hold Draco down, or frustration at his reluctance.

The blade bit into Draco's throat again. It dug into his flesh more securely, and Draco hissed in pain as it sliced into his skin. He froze as a thin trickle of blood slid down his chest. It felt hot against his freezing skin. His captor once more tosses the blade aside, and went back to touching Draco. His movements were slow and deliberate, and Draco shivered as he tried to think of what to do. His only constant thought however was, where is Harry?

Where is he? Draco wondered in a panic.

What did you do to him? He silently asked his captor.

Harry's always here, why isn't he here now? Draco thought, his feelings just shy of betrayal in his panicked state.

The rapid thoughts made Draco even more frantic, and his body trembled as he warred with the temptations to both keep still and try to fight off his attacker all at once. He had no idea what the right course of action was. It was Harry who was the fighter, the protector—not him.

Draco didn't know what to do.

His kidnapper once more reached below Draco's waist, and when he began to touch him, Draco's fear spiked.

His vision became hazy.

He could not see or hear.

White replaced the darkness of the forest as he cried out in fright, and when Draco's vision began to clear, he found that he was still tied up, but the kidnapper was no longer on him. He was now about three feet away, slumped down against a large tree, and the front of his robes were smoking, but undamaged.

He appeared dazed, but it did not last long as he jumped up, stormed across the space, and picked back up the knife.

He pointed it at Draco with a shaking hand, and the last tendrils of Draco's pride crumbled, and desperation took hold.

He called out.

“Harry!” he screamed as loudly as he could, “Harry, help me, please!”

Draco drew a breath to call out again, but amazingly, his kidnapper did something that he did not expect.

He ran.

It was fully dark now, and Draco could not be certain in which direction the kidnapper had run off in. However, he could hear him crashing through the forest as he tore away from Draco at a full run. Silence fell again when Draco heard the telltale crack as his kidnapper Disapparated.

Silence descended, and as Draco's heart rate slowly returned to normal, he realized that he was now faced with another problem—he was alone in the woods, naked, and tied up, with no way to escape.

Draco shivered, and squinted in an effort to see if there was any sharp rocks he could use in an effort to free himself, or nearby shelters he could wiggle his way over to, but the trees blotted out the moon and the stars, leaving him in complete darkness.

His thoughts returned to Harry, and a great sadness weighed upon his chest. For all he knew, Harry was dead right now, and it was only by sheer dumb luck that enabled Draco to escape the same fate.

If I'm found alive, the Aurors will definitely think that I did it, Draco thought miserably, I'll spend the next hundred years in Azkaban for being accused of killing my boyfriend. I probably won't even be allowed to mourn him properly...

A single tear streaked Draco's cheek as the gravity of the situation overwhelmed him again. A small hiccough of a sob slipped past his lips, and a crushing guilt replaced his worries for thinking of himself when Harry could very well be dead.

“Harry...” Draco whispered, and squirmed in his bindings, but it did no good. They were too tight, and he could not wiggle out of them, no matter how hard he tried.

A soft rustling distracted Draco from his morose thoughts, and his head snapped up in alarm.

He stared wide-eyed into the blackness, his heart in his throat. Had the kidnapper come back?

A low, pained groan broke through the silence, and Draco smiled with relief.

He knew that voice.

“Harry?” Draco called out, “you all right?”

“I'm brilliant,” Harry answered back sarcastically, his voice groggy, giving the impression that he'd just regained consciousness. “You?”

“Been better,” Draco replied, and he heard Harry laugh weakly. “You tied up?”

“Yep,” Harry said, “you naked?”

“Yep.”

The both laughed, the weak sarcasm helping to break through the desperation of the situation nicely.

“Hang on,” he said again, and Draco heard rustling as he moved, “I've found a sharp rock, let me see if I can get these ropes off...”

He fell silent, and Draco listened to him move about. A moment later, he was pushing his way through the foliage, and Draco saw his dim outline above him.

“Hey there,” Harry said, and moved to run a hand through his hair.

“Hey,” Draco replied, “think you could get these things off me?”

“Yes I can,” Harry replied, and Draco felt Harry's hands at his wrists, fumbling with the knots.

It did not take long for Harry to untie him, and Draco sat up, rubbing his wrists as he took in the sight of Harry before him.

Both young men stared at one another for a full second of tense silence before Draco threw himself at Harry, and they embraced each other.

Draco buried his face in the crook of Harry's neck, while Harry rubbed his back and kissed his temple lightly.

“I thought you must have been dead,” Draco whispered, a soft sob lodged in his throat, “I thought—I thought—I thought that man killed you and then went after me next...”

“It's all right, I'm right here,” Harry replied just as softly, and kissed his temple again, “we're gonna be okay. He's gone, we're fine.”

Draco's hold on Harry tightened, and he shivered slightly.

“We better find some shelter for the night,” Harry murmured, “I haven't got my wand, and I couldn't find it in the dark...”

“I don't know where mine is either,” Draco replied, “so I suppose we're stuck here...”

“For the moment,” Harry replied consolingly, “we'll look for our wands and clothes and stuff in the morning, then we'll Apperate straight to the Ministry, yeah?”

Draco didn't like the idea of being stuck in a forest all night without a stitch on, but what choice did he have?

It was a small comfort that he wasn't alone, and he felt strengthened by Harry's arms around him.

“Come on,” Harry said encouragingly as he drew Draco from his thoughts, “we better get out of the open, or we'll freeze to death.”

With an arm at Draco's waist, he helped him stand, and together the pair wandered into the dark in search of somewhere to camp for the night.
- 1
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Devil You Know