Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Spellbound	By : amothea Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 5060 -:- 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
- 2
- 3
- 4
Spe>Spellbound 3: Summer Vacation

Disclaimer:I do not own or make any money off of this story.

Clinking of glass woke Draco; he lay still and tried to catch his dream before it drifted away with consciousness. Draco felt the warmth of the fire flickering with life in a fireplace. The silk sheets stuck to his naked belly with sweat. Draco frowned, confused, his bed didn've sve silk sheets, and he always slept in pajamas, his father would beat him if he found him sleeping without clothes on.

Draco opened his eyes, rolled onto his side, and propped himself up on one arm. A small fire about five feet from the bed barely cast light in the room. He strained to see past the shadows surrounding the bed, to find the noise that woke him. It was silent now except for the crackle of fireing ing the log. He knew this was not his room at Malfoy Manor, nor was it his dorm room at Hogwarts. Draco swung his legs over the side of the bed, his head swam from the effort and he could not remember where he was or how he had arrived, but his instincts clamored at him to run. A dry chuckle from the darkness froze his blood and dried his mouth.

"Who's there?" Draco croaked his throat ached.

"Ah you've forgotten so soon. I'm hurt and here I was waiting for you to wake up so we could continue our fun."

The low voice brought back Draco's memories like a tidal wave; he whimpered with fear. A small rush of adrenaline gave him the strength to stand but with one step, his foot caught on something hard and metallic. Draco crashed to the rug-covered floor. Stunned from the hard fall he froze and waited for Voldemort. Memories from the afternoon floated into his mind like wisps of dreams he barely remembered. Flashes of hands ghosting along his chest, and the smell of rotting flesh, and the red eyes looming over him engraved themselves into his mind. He had to move.

He moved to his knees carefully, blinded in the dim light.

"Voldemort, I know you are there. What do you want from me?" Draco demanded, as strongly as his voice would allow.

Suddenly the room was flooded with light. In the brightness of the overhead lamp, the stark reality is pis predicament hit home. The metal object on the floor was a piece of a long chain that ran from one end of the room to the other, held close to the floor by iron rings screwed into the floorboards. Draco turned around to follow the chain and saw that it ran throughout the entire room with other chains intersecting and forming knots in some places. The bed also had its own set of chains with dark iron handcuffs at each of the four corners. The metal facilitated different positions, including a set of dangling handcuffs from the ceiling. At last, his gaze came to rest on Voldemort who stood by the one entrance into the room, a wooden door with symbols on it. The man was clothed in a black robe with dragons twined in gold patterning the sleeves.

"You are even more remarkable with my marks on you." Voldemort eyed him appraisingly.

Shuddering, Draco moved to cover his nakedness.

Voldemort walked closer, he easily stepped over the various chain links, until he stood in front of Draco. His thighs close to Draco's mouth. "Draco, lift your hands. I want to see all of you."

Draco shook his head and drew back; his head hit the mattress and stopped. Please let this be a dream Draco prayed. Not able to look away from Voldemort's leather clad legs or steel tipped boots.

"I'll say it once more, show yourself to me." This time Voldemort's order held an edge of danger. The steel tip boots moved closer to him, there was not any room for Draco to stand up; he turned his face away as Voldemort pressed closer.

"No." Draco said firmly. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach from fear, not knowing how Voldemort would react to his defiance, yet recklessly not caring.

Voldemort's red eyes flared with fury and in a flash, his steel tipped boot kicked him, hard; hands grabbed his hair and forced him to his feet. Scalp on fire Draco's hands went to his head to grab at Voldemort's fingers to pry his hair free. Voldemort shook him back and forth and then shoved him away. Bouncing on the mattress from the force of the impact, Draco's head hit the metal frame of the bed. Stunned, Draco did not move. No one had ever beaten him like this before.

Blinking back tears of pain, Draco rolled onto his hands and knees and scrambled away from Voldemort's groping hands. His efforts hampered by the plush mattress. This had to be nightmare; Draco thought despairing. This was like one of his dreams where if only he could move faster he would escape the monster, but he could not go any faster.

A firm hand grabbed his ankle, Draco screamed and twisted his foot and yanked as hard as he could but Voldemort quickly cuffed his ankle to foot of the bed. The cold cuff bit into his skin with every movement he made.

"I thought you would fight more, Draco." Voldemort said stroking Draco's bare leg. Draco felt like he ran a mile and he had barely made it to the other side of the bed.

Draco clutched the bed spread with his hands and tried to reason past the panic in his mind. Why was he letting Voldemort see him this way? This was not Draco; he was not some crybaby wimp. Malfoy's do not cry Draco he could hear his father's voice. Pride was all he had left and he would be damned before he let Voldemort take that away.

With his newfound determination, Draco rolled over and faced Voldemort. "Why are you doing this to me? Surely there are better choices of toys?" Draco did not hide the disdain in his voice.

"Ah, so my Dragon has discovered his fangs at last." Voldemort trapped Draco's ankle trapped between his hands. Somehow, Draco kept the revulsion off his face.

"I don't need any reason for choosing you." Voldemort's pale hand drifted up and down Draco's leg, "You are a lovely young boy and you show spirit. When I am finished with you, your soul will belong to me. No one knows where you are and no one is searching for you. We will have the entire summer to get to know each other better. If you think your parents will rescue your misbegotten soul, think again. Your father gave you to me, hap; he; he wants you broken. He lusts after you."

Draco cringed away; horrified by Voldemort's words, and the unsettling suggestion about his father. "I'll do what you want. Just don't hurt me." Draco pleaded desperately. "I know you're more powerful than me and I want to be on your side. Please, I can be of use in other ways! I'll do whatever you want!" Draco inwardly winced. Begging for mercy, how much lower would he fall?

"Fine, give me a blow job." Voldemort said and climbed all the way onto the bed, his robe opened showing bare flesh.

Draco took deep breaths to stay calm; this was not the time to panic. Voldemort crawled closer to him until his robe brushed against Draco's thighs. Draco's breath caught and held at the slight contact. When Voldemort knelt in front of him, the black robe held together with a thin belt, Draco breathed again. "Lay down." Voldemort commanded and Draco obeyed.

He kept his hands to his side even as Voldemort straddled his chest with his knees. Every instinct screamed at him to run, to fight, to escape, but Draco forced himself to remain silent and still, even when Voldemort completely disrobed, baring his bony chest.

Disgusted with himself and shamed beyond words, Draco opened his mouth and accepted Voldemort's cock. The gummy taste and the rank smell disgusted him but Draco managed to control his instinct to fight. He used his tongue to flick at the head and sucked at the foreign object lodged in his mouth. Skeleton like fingers threaded through his hair as Voldemort pushed deeper. Suppressing his gag reflex took an extreme amount of effort and concentration as Voldemort slipped down his throat and held there.

Draco concentrated on breathing through his nose and flung his mind away from this awful moment. He mentally listed potion ingredients and thought of his first Quidditch match, however the image of Cedric's dead body clutched in Potter's arms, a grisly reminder of Voldemort's capabilities, returned often to his memory.

The room was utterly silent except for Voldemort's heavy breathing and his own shallow breaths, until a rough voice broke the silence. "I should have known you'd be a natural." Voldemort gasped pumping his hips. "Your father was good at cock sucking too."

He is lying, Draco ght,ght, and dismissed Voldemort's words to concentrate solely on the task-on-hand, breathing. His jaw ached unbearably and Draco willed Voldemort to finish sooner. It must have worked, because minutes later, Voldemort sped up, and that is when Draco realized Voldemort would not pull back. Draco would have to swallow. A low whimper escaped his throat; Draco tried to use his hands to fight against the ones tangled in his hair, but Voldemort tightened his knees, and trapped Draco's arms at his sides. Draco closed his eyes. The heavy breathing in the room drowned out his whimpers.

"Oh yes," Voldemort gasped, tightening his fingers in Draco's hair.

Warm fluid slid down his throat; Draco gagged. His nose pressed against Voldemort's sweaty pubic hair cut off his supply of air. Voldemort's cock jerked and spewed more sperm into him. The thought of punishment if he failed this task helped him control his impending panic.

Voldemort slid in and out a few more times until the organ softened in his mouth. A few more spurts of semen shot out and Draco swallowed quickly to avoid angering Voldemort.

Finally, Voldemort pulled out of his mouth leaving his organ trailing right above his lips. "I want you to lick me."

Detesting himself, Draco did not hesitate and licked every remaining trace of semen off the limp organ. Voldemort leaned back with a satisfied grin. "You surprised me, Draco. This may not be as painful an experience as I anticipated for you."

Draco sat slowly after Voldemort climbed off him, his muscles sore and stiff. Blood drained from his lips. He crossed his arms over his chest, cold. Draco watched silently as Voldemort retied his robe. "Sadly I don't have much time right now to enjoy all that you are offering Draco, but don't worry I'll be back. Oh but before I go..." He paused near the door; a wand lay on a table holding a lamp. Voldemort pd itd it up. "I thought I should leave you with a parting gift until we meet again, Crucio!"

Draco's world exploded into blinding agony.

****

Inarticulate screams bolted Ron straight from sleep to his feet in three seconds flat. In the dark, Ron could make out Malfoy thrashing against his covers, convulsing.

"Will someone shut him up?" Neville asked and pulled his pillow over his head.

Harry stood next to him for a few seconds before Ron registered his presence. "You'd think his own screaming would wake him up." Harry said in a faint voice, he made no move to help Draco.

Ron hid his surprise at Harry's reaction. He knew Harry hated Malfoy, but he wanted to stop whatever it was that caused those types of screams.

Ron knew he had to wake Malfoy, especially if he wanted to get any more sleep tonight. "Malfoy, wake up." Ron said loudly. He did not want to touch Malfoy, though the other boy's sweat-soaked body shook, limbs ridged with tension. His voice did not get through to Malfoy, so he quickly shook Malfoy's shoulder. "Malfoy, get up you're having a nightmare."

The screams abruptly stopped and Malfoy sat up in bed so quickly, Ron jumped back in fright. Malfoy's chest heaved as if he had just run ten kilometers, Ron could not remember seeing Malfoy this panicked, his eyes were wide with confusion as if trying to remember where he was.

"Malfoy...Draco, are you awake?" Ron asked hesitantly, worried that Malfoy would start acting crazy again. "Um you're safe."

Abruptly, Malfoy swung his legs over the side of the bed and ran out the room. Ron glanced towards Harry; the other boy stared back at him and shrugged his shoulders. Ron knew with that one gesture that Harry planned to stay in their room. "Come on Harry, we can't just let him run all over the place. Someone has to watch out for him and his tricks. Besides, if anything happens to him, my ass is fried. Professor Snape would kill me."

"Ron, it's late and Malfoy does not look like he's in any position to sabotage our house or be attacked by anyone. I am going to bed; if you want to follow him then it is your choice. I'm not going to let him ruin my sleep too."

Drat!

Ron stalked out of the room, thinking he would have to chase Malfoy halfway to Hogsmeade before he found the other boy. Instead, just as he passed the bathroom, he heard retching. Sighing, Ron pushed open the door and quietly entered. He saw Malfoy kneeling in front of one of the toilets puking his guts out. In the bathrooms, dim lights he saw Malfoy's entire body shake like a leaf, and the trembling in Malfoy's hand as it rose to pull the lever to flush the toilet.

When Malfoy sniffed back tears, Ron fought to suppress any feelings of sympathy. This boy had harassed him for four years.

"Malfoy?" hesihesitated, not sure what to say to someone who woke up screaming from nightmares.

"Go away, Muggle-lover." Malfoyoarsoarse voice lacked its usual bite.

"I can't, idiot. I have to make sure you get back to our room safely." Ron did not let Malfoy's insult bother him. As much as he hated Malfoy, he could not pick on him while he was down like this.

With care, Malfoy stood up. "Fine but I need a shower; it would help if you got me some clean clothes to wear."

Ron sighed heavily; he did not want dig through Malfoy's clothes, however after watching Malfoy undress with slow listless movements, Ron realized the extent of Draco's exhaustion. "I'll be back," Ron said and slipped out the door.

****

Relieved at Weasley's departure, Draco turned on the shower and stepped under the hot spray. Tremors shook his body, the force of the dream still lingered in his system; his stomach muscles ached from dry heaving, and the rest of him ached from convulsing in agony. Draco closed his eyes and turned his face into the water, it stung, but he did not mind he opened his mouth letting it fill with water, washing out the taste of bile and semen. The image of white semen coming out of his mouth flashed into his head, Draco flinched and shuddered again. It was impossible what he saw, and yet when he flushed the commode it was there, floating on the surface. The taste lingered in his mouth.

After rinsing his mouth out a few more times, Draco turned off the shower and stood still, the dripping of draining water the only sound in the echoing bathroom. The creak of the bathroom door distracted him briefly, as Weasley returned with clean clothes.

"Um Malfoy, I'll leave these on the bench for you."

The door opened and closed again. Draco cautiously peaked out before he walked to the bench where Weasley placed a new set of nightclothes and a towel. He dried himself quickly and dressed in record time, scaring first year students, with the scars on his body, not high on his list of priorities. He gathered his dirty clothing and met Weasley outside in the hallway.

The dark circles under Weasley's eyes and the tousled hair made Weasley appear older. Draco remained silent as they walked back to their room. They entered cautiously, and Weasley moved on instinct back to his own bed, while Draco threw his clothes on the floor and climbed back into his bed. Draco wanted to sleep again, but each time he closed his eyes, his memories flashed to Voldemort's weight on his chest, and the extreme pain of the Cruciatus Curse. Too restless and scared to fall back asleep, Draco climbed out of bed, grabbed his homework, and headed downstairs...

****

Draco sat in the plush red armchair, reading his potion textbook. He had finished a few more summer homework assignments while everyone else slept. Now with the morning sun streaming through the glass paned windows, Draco's eyes gritty with exhaustion had trouble staying open. He pushed the discomfort aside, and worked through the tiredness, while other students, who woke up early, passed through the common room. They avoided his eyes when he looked up at them. No one offered to go eat breakfast with him, so Draco continued to work on his assignments while waiting for his rts rts to come downstairs.

By the time, Weasley and Potter arrived, both looked as sleep deprived as he felt it was almost too late to eat breakfast but they walked quickly to the Great Hall. Sandra waited for him while he grabbed something to eat, then she escorted him to his first class, potions.

Draco did his best to ignore the whispering and furtive glances. Professor Snape acted no differently towards him and gradually Draco relaxed and concentrated on his work. He finished with time to spare.

Last night he managed to finish the majority of his potion homework, and the scrolls lay in his carry case. After class, he waited until everyone had left before approaching Snape's desk. Snape's hard expression softened so Draco quickly fumbled out his scrolls and handed them over. "I had time last night so I managed to finish most of my make up work for potions."

"Did you get any sleep last night?" Snape asked casually, picking up the scrolls.

Draco nodded his head; he maybe got two hours of sleep. "Some." He said vaguely. There was no way he could talk about the dream he had last night to anyone.

"Draco, come on, we need to hurry." Sandra called to him at the doorway; she panted out of breath. Something must have held her up.

He grabbed his bag and headed for the exit, he did not want to be late to class either, because it drew too much attention to him.

They made it to his Divinations class with time to spare, but Draco knew Sandra would be late to her next class. He entered his class and she ran off.

Incense filled the room like smoke, which made him cough. The Hufflepuff students ignored him. Compared to the alternative it was not too bad. Draco found a spot in the back of the room on the floor where he could lean against the wall comfortably. Professor Trelawney sat and lectured on the meanings of pictures on their tarot cards. The haziness of the room and the professor's droning voice fought against Draco's efforts to stay awake.

He leaned his head back against the wall. Valiantly tried to keep his eyes open and promptly fell right to sleep.

****

Draco's nerve endings blazed with pain; he had long since lost his ability to scream, his body grew weaker and he felt his mind slipping away as the agony continued to assault his body. Then abruptly the pain ended. His body fell limp to the mattress all his muscles locked in pain relaxed instantly from sheer exhaustion.

Tears stained his cheeks but he had no strength to wipe them off his face, Draco wanted to sob in horror but only had enough energy to turn his head towards the door, and Voldemort. He had not noticed him entering the room; Draco had no clue how much time had passed since Voldemort left him with the cruel curse.

"Are you still sane?" Voldemort asked, and sat next to him. Draco could not flinch away from the hand that came up and smoothed the hair from his brow.

Draco wondered at the question, was he still sane? His mind gibbered at the thought of going through that again and he almost sobbed but managed to bite it back in time. He had no desire to show Voldemort his weakness.

The hand moved from his forehead down his wet cheek, and rested on his neck, one pad of Voldemort's thumb settled on his pulse and pressed. Draco shuddered at the contact, his body already stronger with each passing moment. "Well boy, are you going to answer me?" Voldemort leaned closer.

Draco swallowed and stared nervously into those strange eyes, conscious of the hand resting on his throat. "I'm sane," Draco, whispered, it hurt; he must have torn something in his throat with all his screaming.

A smile twisted in maniacal good humor on Voldemort's face. "That's good I left the curse on you for ten minutes, it drives most people insane at about twenty minutes but it varies. I don't want my toy broken on the first day." Voldemort laughed at his own joke while Draco stared up into the face that would rule his nightmares for years to come.

Draco did not fight when Voldemort's hands roamed over his body and touched in places no one should have a right to touch without permission. Some of the touches caused goosebumps to rise on his flesh and others left him warm and tingling. Voldemort's hand closed nd hnd his penis. Draco closed his eyes and prepared for another one of Voldemort's cruel tricks, but the hand remained gentle in its slow strokes. His hips rocked into the hand. His body quickened with the first flush of pleasure he had ever experienced at someone else's hand. He gripped the arm above his head, his sweaty palm held on while the rest of his body tensed.

Voldemlay lay down, his chest against Draco's back. A gentle nudge and Draco lifted his leg to give Voldemort greater access to what the man wanted. His fingers hurt where they gripped the arm above his head but he could not let go. The hand on his penis shifted strokes making them harder and faster, bringing Draco to the brink of orgasm, and then Voldemort stopped. Draco moaned and arched his back, aching for the hand to return. He did not know half the tricks the other man seemedknowknow.

In his pleasure-dazed state, Draco felt every slight motion of Voldemort's fingers drifting down his back and down the cleft of his ass. One finger entered him without hesitation and Draco flinched. Immediately he let go of the hand above his head. Draco intended to reach down and stop Voldemort, however his other arm held him from being crushed into the bedcover. Draco barely let go of Voldemort's arm when a strong hand gripped his wrist and pulled it over his head. Draco's head cleared quickly as he realized what Voldemort wanted, he tried to struggle, his his position was perilous. With a quick move, Voldemort pulled his finger out of him shifted his free arm under Draco's upraised leg and lifted it high, leaving him completely open to the swift invasion of Voldemort's cock which tore through him with no mercy.

The pain wiped all traces of pleasure from Draco. Had he the voice, Draco wanted to scream; instead, each thrust elicited pitiful whimpers of pain. Dizzy and nauseous, Draco struggled uselessly as Voldemort continued to rape him.

Voldemort thrust harder and faster before slowing. Draco gasped for air during the break in the relentless assault. In too much pain to care what anyone thought of him, Draco cried silently. Voldemort shifted his angle and thrust again. The pain changed into something different and Draco grew hard. He did not fight when Voldemort gripped his cock and resumed his efforts.

His orgasm when it hit shattered him, Draco passed out to Voldemort's laughter.

****

Draco jerked awake; his head hit the stone behind him with enough force to leave stars dancing in his vision. His heated, slightly sweaty face burned. Luckily, everyone stared towards the front of the room. Draco's stomach trembled with the force of the memory, there had to be something wrong, he never dreamed this vividly. Draco rubbed his eyes and tried to pick up where the teacher went with the lesson. More stuff about tarot cards, not that they would do him any good. He already knew his future. It was fucked.

****

The rest of the day passed quickly and Draco found no other opportunities to sleep, exhausted he managed to make it to dinner. On the bright side, no one had attacked him today. The Slytherins even ignored him when he entered the Great Hall.

Potter, Granger, and Weasley had saved him a seat but ignored him while he ate his dinner. With each of Weasley's side-glances the mark burned. Draco waited for Weasley to give him an order; no one had ever gone this long after activating the spell without displacing it by fucking him. He hoped Professor Snape and Dumbledore would find a way to remove the mark before it really started to hurt.

The ham, potatoes, corn on the cob, and roll lay mostly untouched on his plate; Draco pushed the potatoes around with his fork and tried to ignore Wesley and Potter talking about Quidittch. Granger spoke in a low voice about the new Seeker on Slytherin team. Strangely, the news of someone replacing him did not upset him, as it would have a summer ago. For Draco his old life went up in ashes the moment Voldemort touched him.

Later, Draco studied in the Gryffindor common room. He ignored the stares and whispers, compared to the alternative, it could be worse. He did not feel safe in the bedroom after what happened the night before. Weasley and Potter played Wizard's chess at the table near the fireplace. Granger studied in the library. His fellow Gryffindors occupied the other tables. Draco worked on his summer assignments and his current homework; he gradually relaxed though his stomach hurt from hunger.

To sit in a room without anyone's lustful gaze upon him, to have the choice to wear clothing or not, he used to take these small luxuries for granted, not anymore.

The hours flew by as Draco wrote on one scroll after another, soon the clock chimed the 11^th hour and Draco looked up from his task and noticed the mostly empty room. The only students still downstairs had heavy books open; quills flew across sheets of parchment. Draco stood, sthed hed his sore muscles, and quietly gathered all this work into his bag. He went upstairs, carrying the bag over his shoulder. His new roommates looked at him briefly, before they continued to ready for bed.

Draco felt safer with their company; however, he still gathered his shower supplies cautiously, peered into every shadow for signs Voldemort hiding.

Despite his worries, Draco arrived at the boy's bath safely. He started the shower, stripped off his clothing, laid them on the bench, and stepped under the haterater. The dream from this afternoon weighed heavily on his mind; the first time Voldemort raped him. Draco shuddered and leaned his head against the wall, and let the water beat down on him.

Draco remembered waking alone his body numb, raw, swollen, and leaking, completely bare on the black covers. He waited for the pain to subside. His leg muscles ached from Voldemort's harsh treatment. Slowly he slid off the bed, his legs barely able to support his weight as he explored the room. He had found a door that opened to a bathroom; it had a toilet and a shower, but no mirror and no other niceties. Finding toilet paper under the sink was a pleasant surprise. The shower hurt especially when he used soap to clean his lower region. He braced his hand against the cool wall, dizzy from the warm water and shock. His stomach ached from hunger, fear, humiliation, and a shame that went straight to his soul. Tears escaped his tightly clenched eyes, while his mind raced to find a solution to his dilemma. How could he escape? How was he going to survive? The water turned cold and he felt the first tendrils of real rage at his father for giving him to Voldemort. Rage he suppressed through months of torture, abuse, and servitude.

Three months later with wat water beating down on Draco's head in the shower, he remembered the sweet feel of rage and hatred. Blood pounded in his skull and to every part of his body, he felt more alive now than he had in weeks. In the small shower stall at Hogwarts, Draco beat his fists against the slick wall; he hated himself and the people who did this to him.

He wanted the wall to be Voldemort's face, or his father's, or any of the other number of men who used him. He wanted the wall to be him, for not fighting back harder. Draco felt the shame eating him up inside, unmanning him. What girl would ever want him now? He despaired.
- 2
- 3
- 4
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Spellbound