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Hopeless Delusions	By : LoneWolf91 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 4280 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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
- 1-Hopeless Delusions
- 1
Five years after the Battle of Hogwarts, what has become of the famous Harry Potter? One can only survive with their hopeless delusions for so long, before one cruel act shatters the mask. Will Harry be able to find a better life away from Lucius Malfoy?

Non-epilogue compliant and mildly AU, in that Remus does not die in the final battle.

Lucius/Harry, Severus/Harry, Severus/Remus, Severus/Remus/Harry.

Okay, I'm going to try to update this once per week. It's been beta'd by myself only, so please forgive any mistakes. If anybody would be interested in betaing for me, then that would be wonderful. Drop me an email at Crazymonkeyincyprus@hotmail.com if you're interested, and I'll get back to you. :) Reviews are adored, naturally, but I'm not going to stop writing this if I don't get tons, or anything. It will be Harry/Severus/Remus later on, but not just yet. It's my intention that the non-con will only really apply to this chapter and any flashbacks, so please don't be too put off by that!

Harry cried out in pain as the whip cut into his back, slicing through the skin and prompting rivulets of blood to run down to his legs. His head hung low as the muscles in his arms strained, pulling at the chains that shackled them to the ceiling. His toes just barely touched the ground, and were able to provide no respite for the arms. Silent tears ran down the young mans face as though in imitation of the blood, and his whole demeanor radiated defeat. This was the stance of one long used to such punishment.

The dark haired man did not even lift his head as his Master’s footsteps could be heard prowling around him, having no desire to see the smirk upon the elegant blonds self-satisfied lips. It too was something he was by now long used to, though it did not make him hate it any less. Harry Potter despised being attached so to this man, to be so completely reliant upon something from him that he knew would never come. He craved this man’s approval and affection, but knew without a doubt that he could never earn it. Still, he could never bring himself to give up hope, for what was left without it? So, he stayed with Lucius Malfoy of his own free will... Mostly.

As the dark chuckle rang through the room, Harry flinched, and wondered if perhaps he was beginning to reassess that opinion. For truly, how much longer could he be expected to survive like this? A hoarse scream was wrenched past his lips as the man entered him from behind without preparation, and he thrashed against his restraints, wanting nothing more than to get away from this sadistic bastard. Harry was no masochist, and his flaccid penis bore testament to the fact that he found no pleasure in this act. Not like this.

Tortured screams soon faded to heart-wrenching sobs as his voice gave out and internal bleeding provided a sort of crude lubrication for the act. It hurt no less, but at least it meant that the pewter-eyed man would doubtless find his release and finish sooner than he otherwise might. The grunts from behind him proved this to be likely, and soon the younger man felt the now familiar rush of warm fluid inside his channel. He keened as the softening penis was pulled from his rectum.

Harry could hear harsh, mocking words falling from Lucius’ lips as the man reached up to release his bindings, but made no effort to make out the words as he slumped to the ground, continuing to sob quietly. The booted toe that kicked harshly at his still bleeding back demanded attentiveness, however, so pained emerald eyes turned up to meet icy silver.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll be in the bedroom waiting for me when I return from the ministry today,” the beautiful man was drawling in cruel, aristocratic tones, a cold sneer in place upon his sharp features. “I anticipate a stressful day and you will be a pleasant enough distraction by the time it is over.”

The words made Harry shudder in fear as his eyes were cast down submissively, but he gave the required response in a small, broken voice regardless. “Yes, Master...”

The dark haired man remained motionless in that position until the sound of Malfoy’s footsteps had faded and the door had slammed. With the new silence, the tension seemed to seep out of Harry, and he fell back to the hardwood floor with a sob. I can’t do this anymore! He told himself amidst the despair, and after a moment or two, sat up with a scowl; the expression unfamiliar upon his face after such a long time of only submission and despair.

“I won’t do this anymore,” he stated aloud to the empty room. Why should he? It was clear that his Master would never be happy with anything that Harry could provide, and that even enduring these beatings was not enough to win him even the slightest hint of approval from the older man. Harry Potter had been eighteen years of age when Lucius took him as his own, and now, five years later, a spark resurfaced within long defeated emerald eyes.

Upon attempting to stand, the young man blanched. This was going to be harder than expected, he realised as the wounds upon his back reopened and blood began to trickle down to the floor once more. Swaying a little, he gritted his teeth and stumbled towards the bathroom. The doorframe provided a fortunate support just as the wizard felt himself start to teeter dangerously, and he pulled himself into the room.

A soft moan of distress left his lips as Harry examined his back in the floor to ceiling mirror. The damage was extensive, and would take at least a full week to heal. Lucius hadn’t seen fit to brutalize him this badly for a long time. The internal damage was likely just as bad, he thought, glancing skittishly down at the mixed blood and semen running in rivulets down his thighs. A glance was all that was needed, and Harry quickly moved his eyes away and gulped. I need to get out of here.

He didn’t feel comfortable running a bath to help ease strained muscles – there was always the risk of the house-elves noticing and reporting his odd behaviour to the master of the house – so instead he started the shower running, flinching when the hot water hit broken skin.

Having cleaned off as much as possible with the wounds still bleeding, Harry almost wished that he hadn’t. He had known that he’d be covered in bruises, but the purpling marks overlaying the yellow of older bruises would ensure that he couldn’t check into any hotel or other decent establishment without being noticed as abused. Even five years after the fall of the dark lord, Harry was still hailed as a hero whenever the wizarding world managed to catch sight of him. Incidentally, that had been rarely, since his Master so infrequently allowed him to leave the manor, insisting upon casting extensive glamours upon any injuries whenever an excursion was unavoidable. After all, it wouldn’t do to have anyone trying to rescue his obedient little pet now, would it?

Harry chewed his lip anxiously as he looked over the bruises. They were too conspicuous; he’d just have to find someplace to crash until those that couldn’t be covered by clothing had faded well enough. Nodding to himself, the dark haired man stepped back into the room that passed as a bedroom for him. The fact that there was no bed was irrelevant, apparently, and nor was there a mattress or blanket. In fact, the only furniture to be found in the room was a well used whipping bench – Harry shuddered as his eyes fell upon it – and a tall mahogany wardrobe. Padding carefully to the wardrobe, he avoided looking at the pool of blood on the floor and shackles that hung from the ceiling that served as reminders of the event that had finally prompted this rebellion.

Having opened the polished double doors, Harry peered in, sorting through the expensive clothes for something that wouldn’t draw attention to a small waif of a man living on the streets. Of course, pet though he may be, he was one belonging to a Malfoy, and it wouldn’t do for him to be seen in cheap clothes, apparently. So, naturally, such an item was irritatingly absent from his wardrobe. Huffing in frustration, the young man shoved the many sets robes along the bar and began to turn away. Just as he was turning, a flash of dark, faded blue caught his eye, and he frowned, reaching down to pick it up from where it had fallen to the bottom of the wardrobe.

“Aha!” Harry exclaimed. It was the pair of jeans he had been wearing when he arrived at the manor with Lucius, the day he had given himself to the older man. Underneath the denim lay a soft, light blue and black striped tee, again, that had been worn that day. A smile graced the young man’s face as he pulled the clothes on, but promptly disappeared when the material of the tee, even as soft and worn as it was, sparked fresh agony as it moved over the skin of the torn back. A tortured moan wrenched itself from the bruised throat, and a pale hand reached out for the wood of the wardrobe, using it for support for a moment or two.

Letting out a shaky breath, Harry straightened, gritting his teeth against the pain and cursing silently as he realised that the blood was doubtless seeping through the thin material already. For a moment, he continued searching for his wand, which had been taken by Lucius for “safekeeping” when he arrived, before dismissing the idea. No doubt it was protected by alarms and the suchlike. The same surely went for his Gringotts vault key, and Harry shrugged, supposing he would have to find some way of confirming his identity and convincing the goblins to reissue a key. Not much else to be done about that until later on.

Shutting the doors of the wardrobe gently, Harry turned and padded softly out of the room. He paused for a moment in the hallway as bare feet met soft carpet, and glanced either way to make sure there were no house-elves lurking, happy to report any misdeeds. He saw none, and nodded grimly. At least he had only to worry about the elves – Narcissa had died shortly after the final battle, and Draco had long since married and moved abroad. Keeping his eyes open and ears perked for any sign of trouble, Harry carefully descended the stairs and headed for the kitchens. Since Lucius had only just left, and they were certainly not responsible for feeding any pet, the dark haired young man prayed that he was right in assuming that they would be absent from the kitchens. If he was expecting to survive without shelter until the bruises healed, then he was certainly going to need some food. He had been denied sustenance the day before, in punishment for some unknown or fabricated defiance. Harry blanched at the thought of what response this blatant one would prompt if he were to be caught.

However, it would seem as if luck was for once on his side, and he made it to the kitchens unscathed. Peering around the doorframe before entering, Harry breathed a sigh of relief to see the cavernous room deserted; pots, pans and assorted cooking equipment clean and stored neatly. It didn’t look as if the house-elves would be returning any time soon. Still, Harry saw no reason to tempt fate by dawdling, and stepped quickly into the room, moving quietly to the pantry towards the rear of the room. He entered, pushing the door too slightly behind him. He was just scanning the shelves in search of bread, when the squeak of a familiar voice had him freezing in place.

“I expect the bathrooms to be spotless by the time Master Malfoy returns, Pippy. All of them, this time, please. You know what happened last week and we do not want a repeat of that, do we?” It was the head house-elf, Mitzy speaking, and thankfully, she didn’t seem to have noticed Harry’s presence, shielded as he was by the partially closed door.

“No, Mitzy,” came the softer voice of Pippy as she left the kitchens. She was a rather young, inexperienced elf who had indeed missed a bathroom in the cleaning a week previous. Lucius’ reaction upon finding out was not a pretty one. Both Pippy and Harry had felt their Master’s displeasure that day. She sounded cowed and obedient, and Harry flinched to think that that was very much how he himself sounded most of the time nowadays. You know it’s time to leave when you can draw more similarities between yourself and the house-elves than differences.

Holding his breath, Harry waited for the second of the pair to leave, but his eyes opened wide in panic when he hear shuffling footsteps moving closer to his hiding place. He remained frozen, not moving a muscle as he heard the sound of the magically chilled cupboard’s door being opened. What was going on? Was Mitzy hungry, and grabbing a snack? Harry fought to hold back a gasp when a small bundle wrapped in greaseproof-paper was placed upon the floor just inside the room.

“Mr. Harry Potter should leave quickly,” the dignified little squeak informed, and now Harry did gasp. She knew he was here? And was giving him food? What? He blinked as she continued in her tones unusually eloquent for that of a house-elf. “Mitzy will need to be informing Master Malfoy of his pet’s disobedience before long, but is sure that she can be finding some urgent jobs to be doing before then. Mr. Harry Potter would do well to leave quickly,” she repeated, and with that, the shuffling of small steps could be heard retreating from the room.

For a moment, Harry could do no more than blink stupidly, but after a moment, a grin split out upon his face. “Bless you, Mitzy,” he whispered, in lieu of having found the composure to thank her directly. That had certainly been unexpected!

Grabbing the bread from the shelf, along with the small package, up in shaking hands, Harry poked his head out into the kitchen and glanced around quickly before dashing towards the hallway. The kitchens were located on the ground floor of the manor, and opened onto the hallway leading to the side door, used for inconspicuous entry and departure. Perfect, Harry thought to himself as he caught sight of the door and dashed towards it, moving as quickly and silently as he could. There was a coat rack just beside the door, and the dark-haired man eyed it warily for a second before grabbing one of the heavy outer robes in simple black, throwing it about his shoulders hurriedly. Lucius’ robe dwarfed him, naturally, but it was far better than nothing.

Flinching as the heavy wool thudded against his back, Harry took one final glance back into the manor that had been both his home and his prison for the last five years. A lone tear traced its way down the too-thin cheek as he silently mourned the lost time, and the death of that hope for acceptance. At least while he had stayed, Harry could attempt to earn his Master’s love. With leaving, that hope, futile as it may have been, was demolished. Lips bloody from so long being worried between small white teeth curved up into a sad smile as large, tennis ball green eyes gazed inscrutably at him from the top of the stairs. I’ll get you out of here, Mitzy, he silently promised the peculiar little elf. Her act of kindness in such a time would not be forgotten. This he promised with his own jade eyes, before turning and running from the manor. Maybe if he left faster, then it wouldn’t seem quite as frightening?

Maybe not.
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Hopeless Delusions