Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Harry Potter and the Goblin King	By : GeminiFaerie Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 29138 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 14
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the Labyrinth, nor any of the characters from said books/movies and I make no money from this story.

Chapter List
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The port key dropped Harry onto a cold stone floor, and he took a moment to catch his breath. Looking around he was surprised to see that Voldemort was nowhere around; he had thought that the port key was designed to take him straight to Voldemort. After a moment, however, he heard a hissing voice-
“Who isss there? Hasss Masster given me another sssnack?” As Nagini slithered into view, her forked tongue tasting the air, Harry knew why he hadn’t been sent directly to Voldemort-Dumbledore wanted him to kill Nagini first; he was probably hoping that Harry and Voldemort would both die in this next confrontation.
‘Probably thought Sev had already gotten rid of the horcrux in me,’ Harry thought, ‘But how does he expect me to kill her? I don’t have anything on me that can destroy a horcrux, although I suppose I could try casting fiendfyre…if I lose control of it though I’ll be dead too. Maybe I should just turn myself over to Voldie and tell him that I’m a horcrux-he should be able to sense it once I point it out.’
As Harry went through his Nagini had gotten closer but she stopped just in front of him.
“I know thisss ssscent,” she hissed, “You are the one Masster wantsss to kill himssself.”
“Take me to him,” Harry commanded in Parseltongue, “I wisssh to sspeak to your master.”
Nagini agreed and slithered out of the room with Harry following closely. She led him down a darkened hallway that was devoid of other life, although Harry occasionally heard a soft murmur of voices from behind closed doors. He briefly entertained the thought of breaking into the rooms and causing as much damage as possible before he was taken down, but his promise to Draco-his promise that he would return-stopped him. He did, however, grip his wand-or rather Luna’s-tightly as he followed the large snake. After several minutes they came to a room with a large, solid oak door and it opened when Nagini hissed a command. Once the door was opened Harry caught sight of Voldemort sitting on a throne-like chair and reviewing some documents, and his scar immediately began to hurt; it was nowhere near as bad as it had been before he learned Occlumency, but there was a faint burning and he couldn’t hold back his gasp of pain.
“Who dares disturb me?” Voldemort demanded, red eyes flashing angrily as he looked up from the table; his glare faded to a triumphant smirk as he saw Harry trailing behind Nagini, “Ah, Harry Potter; it seems the old fool has kept our bargain after all, although I cannot fathom why he would have sent you to Nagini instead of myself.”
“He wanted me to kill her first,” Harry announced, walking further into the room and hiding a wince as the door slammed shut behind him, “See, he told me that you can’t die until all of your horcruxes have been destroyed; the ring, the cup, the locket, the tiara and, of course, the diary have already been destroyed so he wanted me to kill Nagini before facing you.”
“I should have expected such a trick from Dumbledore,” Voldemort hissed, “How did he come to know of my creations?”
“The diary,” Harry replied, “He examined the diary, and then he did research into your past, so now you are left with only two horcruxes.”
“Yes, you have failed in your mission,” Voldemort said smirked triumphantly, “So now I-” he paused as Harry’s words registered; “I had only created six horcruxes and you destroyed five, yet you said I have two left. Explain yourself Harry Potter.”
“You intentionally created six,” Harry corrected, “The night you ki-the night you gave me this scar you accidentally created a seventh horcrux; it’s why we’ve always had a connection. Dumbledore obviously wanted me to confront you after killing Nagini because he thought that by killing your final horcrux with your own hand you would basically be killing yourself.”
“Very clever,” Voldemort mused, “It would not have worked, however it was a well-thought out plan none-the-less. If I killed you it would have weakened me, but not killed me; it would have merely destroyed the part of my soul within you. The both of us would have survived, and another duel would have been required for one of us to live. However, now that I know you are one of my horcruxes-”
“You won’t kill me,” Harry interrupted, “I was hoping you would say that, because I really don’t want to die.”
“I will not let you leave either, Harry Potter,” Voldemort told him, “You shall remain here, my prisoner…unless, of course, you wish to join me? I once offered you power, and I can still give you more power than you have ever dreamed of.”
“No thanks,” Harry said casually, “I’d rather be your prisoner; I didn’t reveal Dumbles plot because I want you to live-I just know that right now I can’t kill you and I’d rather live to fight another day.”
“As my prisoner you will not have the chance to fight me again,” Voldemort said, “Accio Harry Potter’s wand.” He waited, but nothing happened and Voldemort narrowed his eyes, “Did Dumbledore send you here defenseless then? Perhaps he has decided to sacrifice his pawn regardless of whether or not you were able to kill Nagini.”
“I’m sure that’s what he wanted,” Harry said, “But I do have a wand-” he pulled Luna’s wand out of his pocket, “it’s just not mine. Dumbles said I can’t fight you if I use my own wand because our wands are brothers.”
“I had heard that,” Voldemort said, “Very well; Accio wand.” This time the wand went sailing towards Voldemort and he caught it easily, “I will show you to your room, Harry Potter; I have had several rooms warded to keep prisoners. You will have a house elf to bring you food, however aside from myself and Nagini you will have no visitors; perhaps some solitude will convince you to join me.”
“Not a chance,” Harry replied, “I’ll get out of here eventually; you’ll see. I’ll never join you.”
“We shall see,” Voldemort said, “This way Harry; Nagini will follow us.” Harry walked beside Voldemort back through the hallways, and this time they passed several Death Eater’s; from the looks of awe on their face Harry guessed that they thought Voldemort had captured him-either that or they thought he had been persuaded to join their side. Harry wanted badly to correct their assumptions-he just knew this would be all over the papers by morning-but decided to hold off; Voldemort wouldn’t kill him, but somehow Harry felt that he was not safe from other curses, and he had no desire to experience one just yet.
“You will be staying here,” Voldemort announced, opening the door to a small suite; Harry walked into the sitting room and looked around. He was standing in the sitting room, and the door to the bathroom was off to one side while the door to the bedroom was off to the other. It was actually very nice, if a little gloomy with the drab blue and grey color scheme.
“The colors themselves may make me commit suicide,” Harry said offhandedly, and then jumped in surprise as he felt a spell wash over him; “What the hell was that?” He glared at Voldemort.
“It will alert me if you-or anyone else-attempts to end your life,” Voldemort replied, “You are my property now, Harry Potter, and I am the only one who can destroy you. You would do well to learn my rules, the first of which is do not question me; Crucio.” Harry was unprepared for the pain and fell to the ground, a scream falling from his lips; he thrashed on the carpet for what seemed like an hour before Voldemort released the curse. “When you displease me you shall suffer; please me and you shall be rewarded. Come, Nagini; we must alert the others to our guest." Harry lay panting on the floor as Voldemort left; he heard the sound of a lock clicking, and then he felt several powerful wards being set and he knew that the chances of him escaping on his own were slim to none. Of course, that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try-he just needed to rest a few more minutes while he waited for the pain from the cruciatus to fade away. He lay there, his body aching for a long time, and eventually fell asleep on the floor, praying that he would find a way out of this-and soon.
******
The second he picked up the wand Draco knew it was a mistake; the wand didn’t feel like Harry. Seconds later he felt the familiar tug at his navel which preluded portkey travel, and then he found himself lying on the floor. The potion Severus gave him had not had a chance to work yet, so Draco still felt weak from the curse, and his muscles ached unrelentingly; the travel by portkey definitely did not help matters any.
It took a few minutes, but once Draco recovered from the trip he looked around to get his bearings; he was in a small room, which had shelves full of broken things, a small table with a chair and a mattress atop a metal frame. The room had a single window with bars on it, and directly across from the window was a door, which Draco discovered to be locked. Draco shrugged and pulled out his wand, only to be shocked when his spell didn’t work. He tried several more spells, but none of them worked, and then he attempted to open a portal but that magic failed as well.
“Where the hell am I?” Draco demanded, glaring furiously around the room, “Dumbledore, you old fool! You will suffer for this!”
“You there!” A woman’s voice came through the door, high-pitched and waspish, “Be quiet if you know what’s good for you! You’re the reason why we lost so much money, but the old man promised to give us more if we helped him. He put up protections around the house so none of your nonsense will work here. You’ll stay in that room until I decide otherwise, and if you make our neighbors suspicious you will be punished. Now, if you want something to eat tomorrow you’ll keep quiet!”
“I don’t know who you are,” Draco spoke in a soft, dangerous voice, “But when I get out of here I will make you pay for your treatment of me.”
“That settles it!” The woman screeched, “No breakfast for you; no lunch either!” Draco heard the sound of the woman walking away from him and growled in frustration; what was going on? Where had Dumbledore sent him to? He looked around the small room in disgust and then decided to examine things more closely; perhaps he would be able to find some sort of clue to his whereabouts. Draco went over to the bookshelves fist, but didn’t find anything worthwhile; pretty much everything was broken, except for several books which were covered in a thick layer of dust. On the wall above the bed he saw a piece of paper that had been used to make a calendar that someone had used to faithfully count off the days until September first. In fact, there were several of these hand-drawn calendars, dating back to the year that he himself had started at Hogwarts. A sneaking suspicion began to form in his mind, and Draco felt that the handwriting was familiar, so he took all six papers down off the wall and sat down to examine them. The first one had nothing but a calendar on it, so Draco set it aside. The second had a crudely drawn broom and a snitch, as well as the hoops from Quidditch. The third had more brooms and snitches, as well as a picture of a giant snake and a bird that Draco realized was supposed to represent a phoenix. The fourth calendar had an hourglass, a hippogriff, a large dog and a house, while the fifth calendar had a maze drawn all the way around the edges. The last calendar simply had a curtain hanging between two pillars, and the words “I must not tell lies” written numerous times around the edges.
‘This is where Harry stayed every summer,’ Draco realized, looking around the room with new eyes. He remembered Harry told him that all of his cousins’ broken toys wound up in here, and so likely the only things that actually belonged to Harry were the hand drawn calendars, which Draco carefully folded and placed in his pocket. He remembered hearing about a loose floorboard as well, and after several minutes he located it and pried it up. In the hollow beneath the floorboards were several birthday cards from Harry’s friends, as well as several scrolls which were covered in Harry’s handwriting. At first Draco assumed them to be old class assignments, but then he caught sight of his name on one and couldn’t help but read it.
‘Well here I am back at Privet Drive. They hate me more than ever now and have locked me in my room. Poor Hedwig never gets to go flying anymore. Why did they send me back? I told Dumbledore-the headmaster of my school-that my relative’s don’t want me, but he wouldn’t listen. I’m not surprised adults never listen. I would rather be anywhere but here. I would even rather stay with Draco Malfoy ad his family even though I’m sure they all hate me too. At least if I was with them I would still be part of the Wizarding World. Sometimes I think about when Draco wanted to be my friend and I feel bad for not accepting. I think he was trying to be nice in his own way, but he made fun of Ron who is the first friend I have ever had and I can’t be friends with both of them. It doesn’t matter anyway because I am in Gryffindor like my parents and Draco is a Slytherin so we have to hate each other. I do wonder what I could learn from him though. Ron is very nice but he does get mad easy. His older brother Percy is a know-it-all but he’s nice too. I really like talking to the twins Fred and George because they are very funny and like to prank everyone. Hermione is also a good friend even if I didn’t like her at first she is a Muggleborn like my mom which makes her special. Ron and Hermione helped me stop Voldemort from coming back he tried to steal a stone that would give him a lot of gold and immortality but we stopped him. Dumbledore said he will try again though. I don’t think I trust Dumbledore he seems nice but he eats too many Lemon Drops. I can’t wait to go back to school next year!’
Draco read through Harry’s accounting of his first year and shook his head in disgust; the Muggles locked Harry up for the summer? Who did that to a child? Well, now that he was here and Harry was nowhere around to stop him-Draco refused to think about where his fiancé actually was at the moment because it would just cause him to panic-Draco could enact a little revenge upon them. If, that is, he could ever get his magic to work. He frowned; for his magic to have failed meant that Dumbledore had put up wards to block it-which meant that the wand had obviously been a trap just for him, but why? Was it just to get him out of the way so that he would be unable to save him? Or did Dumbledore have something else in mind?
“Well, I suppose the only way to find out is to wait around for Dumbles to come see me,” Draco mused out loud, “Either that or convince the Muggles to give me some answers…before I hex them, I suppose.”
Since he was unable to do anything else at the moment Draco read through the rest of the journal-type pages Harry had left behind in this room. He wrote at least one at the end of every school year, but most summers he wrote several entries, detailing not only what happened at school but also what the Muggles did to him over the summer. By the time he finished reading through fourth year Draco had started to feel tired, so he reluctantly stretched out on the bed; the pillow smelled like Harry, bringing his worries about the brunette to the forefront of his mind. He lay there fretting for several hours before finally drifting into an uneasy sleep just before dawn.
Draco woke up just before noon, according to the clock sitting on the floor next to the bed. After stretching out his sore muscles-how in the world did Harry sleep on this thing?-Draco got up and resumed his examination of the room from the night before; he had gotten distracted by Harry’s scrolls and had not yet had a chance to look in the wardrobe. Opening the doors he wrinkled his nose at the large, torn and faded clothing that was revealed; these were obviously the clothes Harry wore at home-after his fat cousin had already worn them practically to rags. Sitting on the bottom of the wardrobe were jeans and shorts, and Draco didn’t see anything else so he started to close the door when a sparkle caught his eye. He turned back to the wardrobe and moved the jeans aside carefully until he uncovered a mirror; the glass was shattered, but Harry had tried to repair it-the shards of glass were in the antique frame but several pieces were missing, and Draco found them on the bottom of the wardrobe as well, along with a bottle of paste. Taking up the mirror and the loose shards Draco moved over to the small table and set to work trying to fit the shards back in place; the mirror he had recognized as belonging to the Black family, and if he could replace all of the shards it should repair itself-that is, if Dumbledore’s wards didn’t interfere in that as well.
For several hours Draco worked on the mirror, until his neck and shoulders began to ache from leaning over and then he grabbed up another scroll-the last one-and sat down on the bed to read it. This scroll was longer than all of the others, and actually went into great detail about their fifth year. Draco winced when he read what Harry had written about him-last year was not his finest and he was not proud of his actions; he’s also had no idea the true number of times Harry had been in detention with Umbridge, and he vowed to get revenge on her as well-once she was release from Mungos, of course; it seems the centaurs had driven her quite mad.
That evening Draco heard a soft sound out in the hallway and a moment after that a tray was pushed in through a cat flap in the bottom of the door.
“Hey! Muggle! Let me out of here!” Draco yelled, “I know who you are; you’re Harry’s relatives and I will make you pay for how you treated him!” There was no reply, and Draco scowled as he realized that whoever had pushed the tray through had already gone. With a sigh Draco picked the tray up and took it to the table; after reading Harry’s scrolls Draco had expected the worst, so he was surprised to find that the Muggles had given him a baked chicken breast with brown rice and the cup of water was cold. Having gone without breakfast and lunch Draco was nearly starving and so he quickly ate the meal given to him and drank down the glass of water. About twenty minutes after he finished eating he heard a series of clicks outside the door and then it opened to reveal a very large Muggle-he had a gun in his hands and it was aimed at Draco.
“You there-to the bathroom now,” the man said gruffly, “You have five minutes and if you try anything funny I will shoot you. You do know what this is, don’t you freak?”
“Yes, Harry has described a gun to me Dursley,” Draco replied calmly, “Which way is the bathroom?” Vernon gestured with the gun and Draco obligingly went to the bathroom. After doing his business and washing his hands Draco looked at the door, and then at the small window above the toilet, but shook his head; the window was too small for him to get out of, and he already knew he was on the second floor. Draco reluctantly left the bathroom when Dursley knocked on the door and he allowed the man to take him back to the bedroom, but when they reached the door he quickly turned and grabbed the gun from the obese Muggle and used it to hit him upside the head. The man let out a pain-filled cry of outrage, but Draco ignored it and ran for the stairs; he had just about reached them when a hand grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him backwards before slamming him into the wall; his head connected painfully, and then he received a fist to his gut, knocking the wind out of him.
“Stupid freak!” Draco looked up and saw that his attacker was Harry’s cousin; the boy glared at hi with watery blue eyes and punched him in the gut again, causing Draco to fall to his knees as his vision wavers. “How dare you attack my dad? I’ll teach you, you freak! You’re no better than that freak cousin of mine! At least he knew his place!” Draco glared up at the obese teen in front of him and received a knee to the nose, causing blood to pour out.
“Good man Dudley,” the elder Dursley praised his son, “I’ll take it from here; you tell your mother that this freak is to get no more food until I say so.”
“Okay Dad,” Dudley agreed, turning to go downstairs without a backwards glance at the boy he left bleeding on the floor. Dursley Senior grabbed Draco by the arm and drug him back to the bedroom where he threw him down on the floor.
“I told you no funny business boy,” the man glared down at the young wizard, “Now I’m going to teach you a lesson you won’t soon forget.”
“Do your worst, idiot Muggle,” Draco sneered, getting back to his feet, “You are nothing but a pathetic waste of space; no wonder the Dark Lord wants to eradicate you all! You are nothing but animals; no-you are worse than an animal! You are a monster, and when I get out of here you and your family will spend the rest of your life paying for how you have treated me.”
“Enough!” The man thundered, backhanding Draco; “You pathetic little worm! How dare you speak to me like that! I’ll teach you to mouth off to your betters!” The Muggle advanced on Draco and, without his magic, he was unable to effectively fight back; the next several minutes consisted of Vernon Dursley beating Draco, cracking a rib and giving him a black eye and a busted lip, along with numerous other injuries to go along with the ones Dudley had given the boy. For the past fifteen years he had been forced to put up with his nephew’s freakish behavior and had been unable to properly take out his frustrations on the boy because of instructions from the old man, but he had no such instructions about dealing with this freak and so he didn’t hold anything back, and when he was done the young wizard lay in a heap on the floor, blood flowing from numerous lacerations.
“Let that be a lesson to you freak,” Vernon said, spitting on the crumpled form at his feet before turning and walking from the room. He returned a few minutes later with a bucket of water and some rags, and saw that the boy had pulled himself up into a sitting position on the floor, although he still looked shaky. “You will clean up this mess,” Vernon commanded, “and I do not want to hear any noise out of this room. The more you defy me the longer it will be before you can eat, understand?”
“I understand,” Draco croaked, his voice hoarse from crying during his beating; Vernon nodded in satisfaction, and left the room again; Draco listened closely ad he heard the sound of a key turning in a lock-but it was only one lock, not the four or five that had to be undone when the fat Muggle had let him out of the room. Draco glared at the closed door and then the bucket of water before sighing in resignation; he was in no position to fight back without his magic, and if he continued to aggravate the Muggle he would likely end up dead before he could manage to escape, so it would be best to go along with things for now. He crawled over to the bucket, wincing as his ribs protested the movement, and picked up one of the rags. He dipped it in the water and used it to wipe the blood off his face and hands before reluctantly starting on the floor. After about an hour he had gotten as much of the blood up as possible and he moved the bucket of dirty water up against the wall. Looking down at his clothes he saw that they also had blood on them, so he changed into some of the overly-large clothes in the wardrobe, grimacing at the cheap material; well, at least they were clean.
Draco thought about working on the mirror again, but he was afraid the Muggle would come back and take it from him, so instead he sat on the bed and stared at the wall until he heard footsteps approach the room again. The door opened to once again reveal Vernon Dursley, and Draco shrank back at the sight of the man, which brought a smile to Vernon’s face.
“Good,” Vernon nodded as he looked around and saw that the floor was clean and Draco was wearing normal clothes, “Bring this bucket to the bathroom and dump out this nasty water.”
“Yes, sir,” Draco said quietly, moving stiffly as he picked up the bucket and carried it to the bathroom where he dumped it down the tub; afterwards he washed the bucket and the tub under Vernon’s supervision, and then he was given a few moments alone to take care of business before being led back to the bedroom where he was once again locked in-but again he only heard one lock before the large Muggle walked away.
“Must think I’m too injured to put up another fight or try to escape right now,” Draco muttered, then winced as his rib twinged again, “And he would be right. I need to heal before I try anything again.”
“Boy!” there was a rap on the door and he heard the woman’s voice this time, “Turn off that light! It’s time for bed and I won’t have you up all night wasting electricity!”
“Yes, Mrs. Dursley,” Draco responded, turning off the light and sitting back down on the bed. He waited until he heard the Dursley’s all come upstairs, and then he waited another hour, before moving the loose floorboard and picking up the flashlight that had been hidden there; Harry had told him about the flashlight and how to use it one night when he was talking about his childhood. Draco then took the sheet off the bed and placed it on the floor up against the door, rolling it up so that no light would show underneath the door. He gathered the mirror shards and sat on the floor against the opposite wall and turned the flashlight on so that he could work on the mirror again. He was able to replace several pieces before the flashlight started flickering, and then it went out. Draco considered turning the regular light on but he was afraid a neighbor might see the light and rat him out, so he reluctantly put the mirror and the flashlight back under the loose floorboard, retrieved the sheet from the floor, and went to bed. Despite the aches and pains from his beating, it didn’t take Draco long to fall asleep.
Things went on in a similar manner for a week; Draco managed to avoid another beating like the first he had been given, but he had been hit a few times since then, mostly for mouthing off. After his second day with the Muggles Draco had been given chores to do, and if they were not done correctly he would not get fed, and sometimes Dursley Senior would smack him around a bit. Dursley Junior hit him a few times as well but that had nothing to do with his chores and everything to do with despising Draco. Over the week Draco spent more time working on the mirror and it was now mostly complete, and he had also explored the room further, finding a few more of Harry’s belongings hidden here and there.
It was now Draco’s eighth day with the Muggles, and he had been surprised when Petunia had come in and ordered him to shower and change his clothes; after his shower-which had never felt so good-Draco changed into a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt that were actually close to being the correct size, and then he returned to the bedroom, having been told that he would have no chores today. He was in the room for two hours when the fat Muggle came up to tell him that they were going out for the day and he, Draco, was to stay in his room and not break anything. Draco waited until he heard the car pull out of the drive, and then he gathered up the pieces of mirror once more.
It would have been easier to work on the mirror while sitting at the desk, but he could hide it more quickly if he sat on the floor, and so the floor it was. The house was silent for several hours when Draco heard a noise downstairs. He tilted his head, listening carefully, and could make out footsteps on the stairs. He knew it wasn’t the Muggles because he hadn’t heard the car return; could he be rescued? He wanted to think so, but he was a Slytherin, and practical, so he quickly hid the mirror and moved to the bed, picking up the book he had been reading whenever the Muggles didn’t have chores for him to do.
It seemed an eternity before the mysterious person reached the second floor landing, and then it took even longer for the lock to be opened. Finally though, the door swung open and Draco was able to see who had come to visit him. The sight before him was enough to enrage Draco to the point that he forgot about his injuries and the minor aches and pains caused by life with the Dursley’s.
“You!?” Draco cried, jumping up from the bed and ignoring the pain from his ribs, “What the hell are you doing here?!”
AN: Yes, the new chapter is finally up…and I am mean enough to leave it as another cliff hanger! Bad author! I have started the next chappie, but I’m not sure when I’ll be able to finish it. I’m working on getting to the end of the story, but I don’t want to rush it too much and have it come out crappy. Or, do like some authors who lose their muse and jump forward 2-3 years with the epilogue “Once he escaped Harry was able to retrieve the wand and he challenged Voldie to a duel. The Final Battle was observed by many, and Harry was, of course, successful in the end. He and Draco got married and with their combined powers were able to defeat Dumbledore as well. The two former rivals went on to have lots of babies and lived happily ever after. The end.” I could do that, but I won’t, so the chapters will probably take a while. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, and I hope you like the chapter!
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Harry Potter and the Goblin King