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Angel Of Mercy	By : AttentionDeficit Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 10161 -:- 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.

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This Chapter goes to every single person that had to wait so very long for it, for every person that reviewed and has made all the writer's block I have been facing easier. Thank you alll! Special thanks go to reviewers: Paige Taylor, Silverkitten, moriah93ohio and M.C.B. for being the only reader to have told me they have read Impulse and like the blend of the two books.
THe-Sponge-Who-Could-Fly has made this chapter and every chapter after this easier to read and write. She is my beta, the reason I haven't quit on myself and this story yet. This chapter and the one after this are both dedicated to her.
Bad Turns To Worse…
I’ve lost it, I must’ve. I’m walking back to my room after lunch. Why did I let him convince me to agree to that? I’m not ready to spill it all… Am I?
No, I’m not. I won’t be able to share the shit I’ve been through without breaking down. Maybe that’s the point of therapy. Maybe it is not necessary for me to keep it all together, I mean I’m not at home, this isn’t that shitty manor where everything has to be precisely timed and there isn’t anybody trying to make me obey their ideals. Maybe, just maybe, I can be the me only one person has seen…or maybe not, since the only person who ever saw me like that, betrayed me.
Confused, Confuse, Confusing.
‘Officially confused,’ tattoo it on my forehead. I’ve no idea what to do. This is like the question everyone has the answer to, but no one can explain it. Yes or no? It’s not that hard, is it?
I am now pissed at myself for being indecisive. Decisiveness is supposed to be a masculine trait. Clearly I lack that one.
Confused, pissed and now feminine, isn’t this just the best day ever in this loony bin. Maybe, it’s a bad idea to spill my guts out, maybe I just shouldn’t do it. Maybe I should just feign amnesia around him now, pretend I never heard or agreed to what he said.
Maybe I should stop saying maybe and make a damn decision! Or I could just roll over and die.
I like that last idea, a simple exit. If only dying was that easy, like truly wanting to die and just when you roll over, you die. Simple and effective, like nothing else in my life. And that last thought is such a whinny little bitchy one. I hate people who whine and yet I can’t help but do it myself.
Draco, I command you to decide. NOW!
Any time now…
I’m waiting…
Fine…let’s make a list of pros and cons of telling.
Pros… Okay…cons, terrifying, nerve racking, self-sharing, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong… Wait…is it wrong? This could be the best thing I will ever done for myself. I don’t need to be afraid of my past. It hasn’t been great or even alright but it is still apart of me. In ways it helped shaped the person I’ve become. I mean, I don’t like the person I’ve become but, I can change that, can’t I? I can’t change my past so maybe I should just live with it…?
Fuck…I can’t decide.
What does this mean to me if I do tell?
I get to kiss him again. I get to see just where these feelings for him spring from. That makes me want to spill. I really want to know. I can’t believe it but I want to know. And there’s my answer, yes, I will tell someone what I’ve been through.
And yet, all that I think of is, that the moment I enter that room I might clam up, freeze, shut down. I might become too terrified to open my mouth. I’ll need a technique. I’ll need to stare at something, something that’s moving and not at all attached to Granger or anywhere near Granger. A picture or a clock. I’ll find something when I’m in there.
“HA! I made a decision!” I say to the ceiling. Now I am not feminine anymore, well, okay, I still am. I like blokes, how could I not be. That’s a stereotypical thought. But, everyone thinks stereotypical thoughts, don’t they? I’ll ask someone about it later, someone who’ll know enough about thinking more then talking. Someone who’s talked to themselves more in a year then they’ve talked to anyone else in five.
“Draco, it’s time for your session.” Derek says, as he quickly sticks his head in the door.
I nod once and try to prepare myself for what’s to come.
~*~
I’m at Granger’s door. It’s a wood oak kind of color. The door sticks out, compared to all the whiteness here. Maybe the white is here to help people think positively. I mean, what does white resemble? Purity, wholeness…something like that. It’s a stupid color for this place then. Who is whole or pure here?
Anyway, I knock on the door and Granger answers in slow and tired voice, “Come in.”
I open the door and, there she is, sitting in her chair right behind her desk writing the date on a scroll of parchment. She’s dressed in light blue wizarding robes and her hair is pulled up and clipped making her appear professional but still attractive…for a female. I must be changing, referring to Granger of all people as attractive.
“How are you today, Draco?” She asks staring at me with a kind smile.
“I feel like sharing a little of my past with you today.” I state simply, as if it means nothing, as if both Granger and I aren’t at all aware of the amount of control I’m giving up from telling her this.
“Well, that’s good news. Whenever you want to start.” Granger said, leaving the room dead quiet. For that quick moment, it felt like an infinite silence, a silence that would never ever have to end and I would never have to share my story and we could just sit in silence for the rest of eternity. But, then I heard the tick of a clock. The clock was hanging on the wall, to the right of Granger’s desk. It read ten forty-seven. I sat there, starring at the clock till it reached ten fifty before I started talking.
“I guess it all started in sixth year, well actually right before it. I was summoned by Voldemort and he gave me a task. It was to be punishment for my fathers blunder at the ministry. Anyway, he told me to kill Dumbledore. Throughout sixth year I tried and failed to kill him. Finally, I managed to fix the cabinet leading into Hogwarts in the Room of Requirements. I let the Death Eaters lose in the school and then proceeded to find Dumbledore and accomplish my task. But, once I was face to face with the headmaster, he showed me that maybe I could have a life beyond my parent’s world. Then, Snape and some other Death Eaters burst in and murdered him. I still have nightmares of Dumbledore begging for his life and then falling to his death like a rag doll. Before I truly realized what had happened, I was being pulled down the stairs by Snape. I remember curses flying and people screaming, but, I feel like it was someone else’s memories, like I was there, but not as me physically, rather in some metaphysical form.
I remember Potter chasing us and screaming at us. Then, we were outside of Hogwarts and Snape apparated us away to Malfoy Manor, where Voldemort was waiting for us. He, voldemort that is, was pleased that Dumbledore was dead but, still, he was angry at me for not being the one to kill him. On that night I got my first dose of what the cruciatus curse felt like from Voldemort. The curse seemed to gather strength as it was cast repeatedly. I believe that he wasn’t even that angry at me, but that by torturing me and the others into complete submission was his sick way of celebrating.
But life went one and Voldemort became more terrifying, gaining control over the ministry and outlawed his name from formal and informal speech. All the while my mother and I stayed in the manor, looking after the prisoners and just staying out of sight. It wasn’t easy, but it could have been a lot worse. He tortured me a few times when he was bored or when he just wanted to humiliate me. Normally, he would make me strip while all the Death Eaters around cheered. There weren’t a lot of single females around and, if there were any free females, they were protected by their fathers or future husbands. So, I was the next best thing. I had was young, with flawless skin unless you looked very closely, silky hair and, I acted wanton just so I didn’t get hurt too much. In my eyes, it was easier for me to act like I loved the attention, rather than showing how much I hated it. I thought, if I showed how terrified I was I would get raped, and I hadn’t been raped by them so I guess I was right. All the Death Eaters ever did was grab at me and laugh, cheer, or ask me stupid things. It was all harmless--”
“Draco, being treated like that is not harmless. It has the potential to destroy the mental image you have of yourself or make you think anything of a sexual nature is nothing more than a waste of time. It can truly damage you.”
“Maybe, but I’m fine about anything having to do with sex.”
“Really? Then why don’t you tell me what you think sex is about?”
I stare at her blankly for a second before moving my gaze back to the clock. I know what she wants, she’s asking about love. How sex can be about love, the joining of two people prepared to actually be there for the other, prepared to give themselves to the other completely, instead of just for a night.
“I honestly can not answer that. I can give you some speech on how sex can be about love, but I, personally, have never felt it.”
“Fair enough, continue whenever you are ready.” I guess Granger really is an okay person. I know she has had training enough to know not to push any other question she might have on me. But, it’s nice to know that she can keep her cool even when it comes to me.
“Everything was pretty easy going for a while. Life fell into a routine of hiding, being a stripper, hiding some more and being tortured. That is, until I found Luna Lovegood in the prison cell. She was passed-out the first time I saw her. I was doing my routine task of emptying the bathroom bucket, and I saw her, but I couldn’t bring myself to wake her. At the time she was the only prisoner. The day before, a young man named Moritz Stiefel, after being imprisoned for a little over a month, was tortured to death by Voldemort. Moritz was the only male prisoner that I liked, I wanted him to get out of the prison cell. Sometimes, I even tried to smuggle him food and water besides the tiny bit that Voldemort allowed the prisoners to help sustain themselves. I guess I had a crush on Moritz, though it seems morbid, when I knew it was almost a hundred percent likely that he would be dead before Potter killed Voldemort.
“I believe Luna was what made me finally realize that Voldemort was eventually going to kill me if I stayed under his power, and if he won the war. Her unconscious, dirty, crumbled body made me realize that I was nothing more then a working prisoner for the man who was ultimately going to kill me. So, unknown to Luna, I started to fight against Voldemort using her as my instrument. I would bring her food and water as often as I could. I tried to bring her potions too, but I was caught. And I learned what the worst thing in the world to feel is.”
“And what do you believe is that, Draco?”
~*~
THIS IS PART ONE OF TWO! The rest is written and waiting for a large amounts of reviews before it is posted.
This story is now edited! Yes, this is the right time to cheer! THANK YOU THE-SPONGE-WHO-COULD-FLY!
Moritz Stiefel is a character from Spring Awakening. An amazing musical I am going to go see in April. He dies of suicide, so in a way he is already used to torture and would not mind dying by the hand of a mad man instead of his own hand. Well if he thought like me he wouldn’t mind.
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Always know someone out there loves you and if you feel like committing the big S. Don't. Talk to someone. Somebody will care.
-Laura
-Attention Deficit.
Editors Note:
Trust in someone. It may be a little hard to find them but they are out there. Confront your reasons and try to resolve them. Trust someone whose been in that situation as I have. It still hard to cope, but continue trying and you’ll be a better person for it. I hope I don’t sound like a sap, but it’s true. At least…that’s what my counselor said.
-Laila
-The-Sponge-Who-Could-Fly
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Angel Of Mercy