Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

What it comes down to	By : melinda1293 Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 115219 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 7
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Chapter 3. Harry
Harry jerked awake with a cry, his whole body bathed in sweat. For a wild moment, he did not know where he was, or if he was still in his terrible dream. His heart pounded, and panic lingered from a nightmare that he couldn’t distinguish from reality any longer. They were all the same thing now. Having supported him for so long, his arms were completely numb from the shoulders to the tips of his fingers. He ached everywhere, but a screaming in his lower back was drowning his other injuries out at the moment. The pain throbbed with every breath and every heartbeat.
Struggling to get his feet underneath him, Harry pushed his back against the wall, shaking violently, doubling up as much as possible to try and get some relief from the agony that had stolen his breath. When he saw the dried blood trail down his inner thigh, a wave of nausea rolled over him. His stomach lurched, and he dry heaved, which brought fresh waves of pain radiating through him.
Panting, he looked up at Hermione. Of course, he thought miserably, she’d seen the blood, too. She'd seen all that they had done to him. He knew it. He knew she watched him, but he thanked God that his eyesight was so poor because he didn’t think he could stand to see the pity in hers right now.
He had no idea how long he’d been out this time, how long he had before they came back for him, how long he had to steel himself for what fresh horror they had planned today. He only knew that it wouldn’t be nearly long enough. He just hoped to God that when they did come for him, whoever his torturer was, it would not be Bellatrix again.
Turns out, he didn’t have long to wait. Wasn’t that just his luck? The cell door opened, silent to Harry’s ears, and in strolled Macnair. Glancing around the room, he checked that each of the prisoners was present and accounted for. He carried a wooden bucket and a ladle. Water sloshed out of the rim as he walked, spilling droplets of the precious liquid onto the dirt floor. Harry’s throat ached, his tongue going dryer with anticipation, but he would have to wait, it seemed, as Macnair walked first to Ron, who appeared to still be sleeping. A quick hard slap to Ron’s face jerked him out of his slumber. Harry could see that Ron was cursing, though he couldn’t hear them or see clearly enough to make out the words. But he could see the handprint on Ron’s face turning white as his ears turned red.
No matter how much Ron objected to his wakeup call, he didn’t seem to object to the water Macnair offered him. He gulped down all that was offered. Some dribbled down his chin and onto his shirt. Harry’s tongue darted out to lick his dry lips.
Hermione was next, though of course, she was already awake. She, too, took all that was offered. Finally it was his turn. Harry pushed himself farther up the wall, as close to standing as he could manage as he shook with anticipation. Macnair filled the ladle and brought it to Harry’s lips. He gulped it down in huge swallows. Like Ron, it splashed down his chin and his chest. Three more times the ladle was filled, and Harry greedily accepted each of them even though his stomach had started to roll. God, it felt so good on the sandpaper that was his throat that he was actually feeling gratitude to Macnair for what he thought of as a kindness, at least until Macnair leaned into him, running the ladle down Harry’s chest, his belly, and then his flaccid cock.
“Rudolphus told me that he an’ Bella sure did enjoy your company last evenin’ Potter,” he said with a leer. “Said you was a right whore.” Leaning in even closer then so that Harry could smell his breath, he whispered, “I'm lookin’ forward to findin’ out for me’self later today.” With that, he tried to lick the side of Harry’s face.
Harry jerked himself backwards, smacking his head against the stone wall as all the color drained from his face.
Dropping the ladle back into the bucket with a plop, Macnair’s ugly face broke into a wide grin, exposing his yellowing teeth.
“I’ll be seein’ ya’, Potter,” he said with a wink. Then he reached out and pinched Harry’s nipple hard, twisting it between his calloused fingers before releasing it and leaving the dungeon.
He made good on his promise later in the day. Lucius appeared to have no desire to touch Harry in that way. So after another morning round with him and his knives in the torture room, Harry was left alone for an hour or so with a fresh set of bloody wounds, having screamed enough to satisfy Lucius before Macnair was back. He wasn’t alone, though. Two others followed him into the room: that damned giant blonde Death Eater from the café, and Fenrir Greyback. Before they were through with him, Harry was begging for another round with Lucius. It was his first visit from Greyback, and if there was a God, Harry prayed to never have another.
Macnair released him from the wall and meant to drag him to the table in the middle of the small room. Harry fought with everything he had, cursing and spitting as it took all three of them to pull him towards the table. He showed remarkable strength, and his growls were more like an animal than Greyback’s, but the battle was hopeless. The three of them were just too much for him to overcome.
In a moment of sheer panic, adrenaline burst from him. A powerful wave of energy blew them all backwards off their feet and sent them crashing into the walls. Harry couldn’t even comprehend this latest bit of magic, but scrambled for the door. He might have been yelling, or sobbing, or both, his vision tunneling so that the only thing he saw was the exit.
His escape attempt was over before he got three stumbling steps towards it. The blonde Death Eater had recovered first and delivered a powerful blow to Harry’s kidney. Harry dropped to his knees, unable even to breathe. Another to the side of his head, and he saw stars, stunned senseless by the impact. Their second effort to get him bent over the table was much more successful, and once he was secured, it was over.
They were a lot more interested in their own pleasure than Rudolphus had been. One of them cast a lubricating spell on him before roughly inserting two fingers into his arse, stretching him so there would be less discomfort for themselves while he pleaded with them to let him go. More fire erupted into Harry as the healing wounds from Rudolphus’ invasion the night before were re-opened, fresh blood mixing with the lubrication from the spell.
Then they took turns with him, rutting behind him, grunting in pleasure as they ripped him open. Macnair first, who jerked Harry’s own flaccid cock throughout the assault as if somehow hoping to pleasure Harry, or maybe to humiliate him more by attempting to get him to ejaculate or at least get hard during the brutal rape. The blonde was second, whose dick was just as enormous as the rest of him, stretching Harry so that he thought he might actually rip in two as he lifted Harry onto his toes to better accommodate for his size and height. Then Fenrir finally, who was the most savage of them all, his filthy nails dragging through Harry’s scalp as he yanked his head back while he slammed him into the table over and over again in a wild frenzy. Biting Harry on the back and shoulder with his razor sharp teeth when he came, the head of his cock swelled inside Harry so that they were fused together for long minutes after his release, just like a pair of dogs Harry had seen together near the park once. The image made him gag.
When he was able to free himself, Fenrir licked the wounds on Harry’s back and shoulder, sealing them with his saliva as Harry shivered with revulsion. Harry wondered vaguely if he would be like Bill now, wanting his steak rare, and then, in a bemused sort of way, wondering if he should get a fang earring for his ear, too.
“Delicious,” Greyback growled into Harry’s ear, licking the blood from his lips as he rubbed his spent cock against Harry’s thigh.
“I’d like to keep that tight little cunt of yours all for myself, pup. You’d be my little bitch and scream like that for me every night. It won’t matter to me if it’s during your bleeding time again or not. I like a nice bloody cunt, myself. I’ll even let you suck my cock clean again afterwards, and have you lap all your juice off my balls with that little pink tongue of yours. Would you like that, pup?” he asked, rubbing his finger in circles against Harry’s torn hole.
Harry shuddered again with disgust and impotent fury, his fingers curling into fists on the table.
“Oh, the things I could do to you. But maybe the Dark Lord will at least let me have another taste of your sweet, tender flesh before he kills you,” he continued, slapping Harry on the arse and squeezing the cheek, his nails digging in the flesh. “Maybe a nice mouthful of this succulent piece right here.”
“Go…fuck…yourself,” Harry wheezed.
The others snorted with laughter, and Greyback growled, baring his bloodstained teeth at Harry as he leaned into his face.
“I’ll have your liver, boy, and eat it right in front of you after I’ve fucked you raw again,” he spat while the other two continued to chuckle behind them.
“Get…get in line. Dogs like you… don’t get… first dibs.”
That shut them up. All three went quiet for a moment. Then Greyback’s guttural growl grew into a roar. Harry didn’t hear the spell he cast, only knew that it was a new one as his body was suddenly screaming with the pain of what felt like a thousand hot knives penetrated his flesh. He only knew that it went on for a very long time, until his knees had long given out and he lay stretched across the table, supported and held up only by his wrists.
Then they left him there, strapped down to the table. Blood and spunk ran down both of his legs with the stench of blood and sweat and sex hanging heavy in the air. Harry didn’t know how long he remained like that, drifting in and out of consciousness, but it felt like a long time later when his arms were finally released from their bonds. Without their support to hold him up, Harry slipped to the floor, lifeless as a rag doll. He wished he could lay there on the dirt floor forever, but of course, he was denied.
“Get up, Potter,” came a familiar drawl, though it sounded scared.
It took a moment for Harry to realize that it was Draco who was with him then.
“God, you reek, Potter. Scourgify.”
Harry felt the cleaning spell scrubbing the dirt and filth from his body, leaving him feeling red and raw all over and re-opening half the cuts on his battered body. Opening his eyes, Harry saw the familiar blond head and pale pointed face of Draco Malfoy looking down on him with a mixture of fear and disgust.
“What do you want, Malfoy?” Harry mumbled, his voice barely a whisper.
“I have food for you,” he replied. “Get up and get in the chair at the table, and no funny stuff.”
Harry just stared up at him, dumbfounded, but after a moment or two, he lifted himself laboriously off the floor and over to the chair Malfoy had set near the table. The lure of food was too strong for him to ignore, and so he did as he was told. Slowly he sat down. It hurt like hell, but it was the first time he had had the luxury since his last round with Bellatrix. That thought brought back a wave of memories, and the sight of the table where his most recent violation had taken place made him queasy. Still, when Malfoy pushed a plate with a cheese sandwich and half an apple in front of him, he forgot about everything else besides his aching hunger. He devoured the sandwich in three bites. In another two, the apple was also gone.
“Water,” Harry croaked out, and after a quick, “Aguamenti,” a glass of cool water was slid his direction. Harry gulped it down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Dizzy then, he slumped back into the chair, feeling extremely full. His stomach must have shrunk in the last few days without a scrap of food.
“Ron and Hermione?” Harry asked weakly.
“I already took them theirs.”
Harry nodded.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, and then awkwardly, Draco asked, “Do you want more water?”
“Yes, please,” Harry responded. He was feeling extremely full, but he took what was offered, not knowing when, or if, it would be offered again.
When it was gone, Draco vanished the plate and glass with a quick wave of his wand. Harry eyed it, but had no real hope of resting it from him. He was just too weak to try and overpower Draco, and he didn’t think Draco would just hand it over if he simply asked nicely. Before Harry could formulate a plan to attempt to try, the door opened, and two people entered. One was Dolohov, but the other Harry didn’t remember ever seeing before.
“Oi, Draco! Whatcha’ doin? Havin’ a nice little chat with the Boy Who Won’t Be Livin’ Much Longer?”
“No, I was just…” Draco stammered. “I just brought him some food. Mother’s orders.”
“Well, run along back to your mummy, boy, ‘cause we got some business with Potter here.”
Draco didn’t leave, however. Backing against the wall, Harry’s childhood nemesis watched as they dragged him, unresisting, from the chair. Going to work on him almost immediately, they pummeled him with their fists and kicked him in the ribs when he was down. But no matter how many times Harry fell to the ground, he still struggled back to his feet again, swaying and spitting blood.
Draco watched the brutal scene, his face filling with horror. Every time Harry staggered back up, he found Draco’s eyes, the green boring into palest gray. After another punch to the gut, Harry doubled over and dropped to his knees again, fighting to hold on to his meager meal.
“Stay down, Potter,” Draco warned him. “Stay down, you stupid git!”
But he wouldn’t. Harry pulled himself up yet again. The Death Eaters were becoming more and more furious with every failure. Finally, a savage kick by Dolohov to Harry’s right leg caused him to howl in pain, a loud crack signaling the bone giving way in his shin. Harry went down again and didn’t get up this time. They weren’t finished, though, and he curled into a ball as they continued to kick him in the ribs and the back, everywhere they could reach.
“Stop or you’ll kill him!” Draco yelled in panic. “And if the Dark Lord finds out, we’ll all be dead!”
They did stop then, and Harry was grateful. His vision was going gray, and he knew he was going out again. He heard Draco cast one more spell before he lost consciousness.
“Episky.”
Then there was a wrenching pain in his leg before it went hot all over.
Harry sighed in relief, then knew no more.

~ . ~
- 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

What it comes down to

Chapter 3. Harry