Torturous Affections

Warning: This piece of fanfiction contains questionable themes such as sexual/non-sexual relationships between two males, abuse of power, angst, violence and swearing. Mom and dad, I can swear this is NOT your fault.
Disclaimer: If you still have not yet got this straight, Harry belongs to Draco, and they both belong to you-know-who.

This is in a story set in an Alternate Universe (A/U).
The Geneva Conventions provide for humane treatment of civilians, prisoners, and wounded persons in wartime. The first Geneva Convention was signed in 1864. Guns were invented around the 1300s. Chemicals like formalin (formaldehyde) and lye were not present then. Equipment, such as lighters were also not used. This piece is not intentionally anachronistic. You can choose to assume that it is set in another world, with developments unlike our own.

Dedications: This is for Malfoyslave who I promised this chapter would be out for. She was wonderfully supportive of "Traits of a Malfoy" and also sent one of her delightful femslash stories for me to read.

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It was in a favourable mood that the irrepressible Draco left the dungeons . He licked his lips lightly seemingly savouring the two 'kisses' he had delivered to his prisoner. They were salty, but not particularly tasty, and he more or less preferred the fact that they were delivered with a tinge of hatred and bitterness. Well, so much for another get-to-know-you session.

Well, Draco thought, this is really getting better by the day. The war was progressing in their favour and the prisoner is falling apart. If the little 'interview' were to go unsuccessfully, it would not change much. Unpredictable as the winds of war are, they were howling for himSeeing as how things were, new 'equipment' might be needed in the future. With that in mind, Draco made his way purposefully to the blacksmith.

•

"If I didn't know him better, I'd say he enjoyed the kiss much more than the torture."

"Aww com'on, you can't be serious, Draco screws up practically ever decent looking prisoner. That was just another one of his perks."

"You mean screw. Not screw up."

Loud, coarse laughter followed the unsophisticated joke, and the men challenged each other to a wrestling match.

Throughout the other two guard's debate, Ronald Weasley kept silent. He was brooding sullenly. Having never liked Draco's choice of actions, he definitely did not approve of what Draco was doing to the new prisoner. He did not even understand why guards were needed outside the cell when the prisoner was chained so tightly to the wall, in a state that would have shocked the people, if this was not war they were speaking of.

To make sure you all see the damage, and know never to cross his path on the wrong side.

Inwardly sighing for he knew the voice was correct, Ron shifted his foot and peeped into the cell. The prisoner was slumbering, somewhat peacefully with his head lolled to a corner awkwardly. His state looked rather disturbing but the redhead kept quiet, and turned his head away. If he had once wondered how Draco could treat another human being like this, the answer lurked within a conversation the leader had with Blaise. He simply never saw them as humans – only pawns of war.

Silently Ron wondered if he had made the right decision those months ago. Some guttural instinct told him that he might have been too rash.

•

Draco sat stiffly in his chamber, his thoughts drifting to the news his messenger had brought. The Gryffindors were losing, so it seemed, but here were rumours that the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws would be joining in the fray. That shifted the perspective a little, even if he had been expecting it all this while. Folding his arms, he glared stiffly at the door, as if the offending piece had done anything at all.

The rebel had looked nonplused, almost unaffected when the news was broken, but there were worry lines gracing his forehead now. Time was ungracious, and though the Deatheaters would arrive to aid them soon, he feared they would be a trifle too late. He still resented the fact that the Gryffindors had managed to prevent their rebellion and kick them ungraciously off the land. He was even more offended by the fact that they had then decided to divide the country into three individual states, Gryffindor being the largest.

Incensed by the very thoughts, Draco colourfully cursed Dumbledore to his grave. It was ridiculous how that meddling lump of a fool had managed to come into power in the first place. Many strings were being pulled behind the seemingly innocent political façade. Don't waste your anger on him Draco; a voice reminded slyly, you have other matters to think about.

Just then, a knock resounded on his door and nudged him back to the present. His instinctual reaction was to reach for his dagger and then pulling on an impassive expression, he gave permission for the caller to enter. The news the caller gave him made him break out into a malicious grin. The blacksmith had been exceptionally quick – he had been prepared for part of Draco's request.

•

"Ready for some warm-up?" Came a voice drifting into his awareness.

For his ill-fated part, Harry did not know how long he had been sleeping, much less the hours or days he had been strung up on crude display. Drifting between periods of fitful consciousness and disturbed slumbers had not helped him to regain the proper use of his senses. Comforted by the fact that seeing his arms meant they were still there, he chose to remain stubbornly silent.

Draco smiled to himself, watching the prisoner trying to crack open his eyes. Three days without food had made Harry weak, but not ready to surrender. The point served to make the Slytherin even more determined to break Harry, and make Harry his. This however was really not his idea to begin with, for all he wanted was information on his father. Somehow though, with the consistent urging of Nicholase, it had turned out to be something far more sinister.

Remember, what is it you want?

Everything.

Swiftly, Draco walked over and unlocked the chains around Harry's wrist. Both arms immediately fell to haphazardly to his side, like puppet parts uncontrolled by the puppeteer. They dropped like two chunks of lead, sending bizarre sensations into his shoulder blades. Harry felt the blood slowly flowing down his arms and into his fingers. A million ants seemed to be crawling under his skin and prickly, his arms itched. Then there was a hot sensation and thousands of pieces seemed to shatter within his arms, like glass, being smashed against an unrelenting wall.

Draco watched, knowingly.

Gingerly Harry curled and uncurled his fingers, trying to induce feeling back into them. He rotated his wrist tentatively and wobbled his arms. Very soon, he started stretching the full length of his body; blissfully unaware of the hungry looks Draco was directing at him as the Slytherin observed his movements intently.

"I'll have to make the balm," Draco muttered to himself as he ran his eyes down the wounds upon Harry's upper body. Ironically they were the very same wounds that he himself had given. Despite Nicholase's silent protest, Draco argued that they were indeed deeper and more serious than usual.

"What?" Harry inquired, not managing to catch Draco's words.

Surprised that his hostage had heard that, Draco hurriedly transfixed his face into a sneer. "None of your business Potter. Gryffindors like you have the right to remain silent in my domain."

The retort died on Harry's lips when Draco stepped forward and attached his mouth onto them. Draco felt Harry's body invariably stiffen under him and he grabbed hold of Harry's wrist to push them against the wall, preventing any weak resistance. Unfeeling and harsh, the kiss only served as a reminder of happier times to the pained Gryffindor. Before Harry actually realized, he was back into his previous position, with all four limbs firmly secured to the wall.

Draco stepped back and clapped his hands once for Blaise to bring in a wooden box. After mechanically setting the box onto the floor, he quietly melted back into the shadows. Harry noticed warily that that most of the Slytherins had a habit of blending into the dark, as if they were one with it. Briefly he wondered if somewhere along his own intensive training, he had acquired that same skill for more often than not, he found that the unobtrusive darkness called to him.

"Let me first introduce a good friend of mine." Here Draco bent down and opened the lid. "He has been around for quite a little while after getting too excited during one of our private sessions."

Harry's eye widened as Draco brought out a skull, with areas of it still coated in reddish brown-substance. What was the most disquieting fact was that the skeletal piece still retained its dual eyes and as he stared, the milky whites of the dead man's eyes gazed back at him. Harry never once took his eyes off the skull, which gave an odd leering glare. He blanched when Draco tenderly stroked the back of it and smiled.

"Thomas Dickson," he grinned, almost boyishly, " Meet Harry Potter." He paused as if waiting for an acknowledgement. " And Potter, say hello to Dickson."

When he received no response from the black-haired man, Draco forcefully grabbed hold of Harry's chin and pierced his gaze into the emerald one.

"When I command you to do something, you do as I say!"

Yours Draco. Make him yours.

At Nicholase's urging, Draco's eyes narrowed to slits and he placed "Thomas" down before giving the defiant offender a tight slap. Harry's left cheek smashed into the wall and his glasses flew off, leaving his vision ungraciously blurred. Draco split into three moving figures, prancing in sheer viciousness before his eyes. Face smarting, he winced as he felt a slow trickle of blood slide down his cheek.

"That will teach you…" Draco paused abruptly. "Those eyes, you have those eyes, they.. they.."

Taken aback at Draco's sudden change in tone, Harry was silent. He squinted and thought he saw a trace of confusion on the blonde's face. But then it seemed to disappear like a door shutting firmly shut on an outsider. Following the quick disguise of emotions, Harry was quick to attribute it to a trick of the eye as Draco altered his stance again. He hated himself for hoping that it would have been better, hated for thinking that his enemy would feel.

Menacingly, the Slytherin leader advanced towards Harry, a silver object held between his fingers. On it was a dragon, carved regally on one side. Its eyes were green, studded emerald. There was a clink as Draco threw it up and caught it deftly between his middle and index finger. His ring hit hollowly against the metal, breaking the insipid silence.

With a dexterous flick of his wrist, the object revealed a flame, glowing gently within. Something about the way Draco handled the lighter made Harry cautious. The Slytherin's expertise clearly showed that he had done that many times before – far too many times for comfort. The flame drew nearer to Harry's face, and with each dance, Harry felt his eyes wandering, becoming more unfocused.

Click.

In a movement barely seen by the naked eye, Draco coaxed the flame into a renewed fervor. Slowly, leisurely, he placed the flame just beneath Harry's fingers, the same ones that only just started to regain their awareness of the surrounding. The warmth, or rather the heat, lingered just long enough for the burning sensation to cling at his skin, but not long enough to scar.

"Pretty, pretty, pretty," Draco breathed. "Those fingers. Better not move them too much, or they may just lose their use."

The blaze traveled excruciatingly steadily, up Harry's arm, near his elbow, then his biceps. He could smell the hair burn; hear the sizzle as they were reduced to little spots of crinkled black blobs. Prancing mockingly at the skin near his neck, then down as it grazed lightly around his chest, the flame wound its disdainful descend. He squirmed, unable to bear the heat, and yet incapable of escape.

Indifferent as the flame, the blonde pushed the lighter closer to Harry's skin. The naked light wound it way, casually at first, around Harry's right nipple, embracing the taut cherry nub. A keening noise found its way into Harry's throat as it got hot, too hot. Mockingly, he felt the cool metal pressed in the area under his nipple, as Draco let the flame continue to encircle the sensitive spot. He pulled at the chains at his wrist, although the old abrasions started to sting again.

"M-mal-l-foy," Harry croaked. "You son-of-a-bi…"

Cold fingers closed around his throat, effectively cutting off his speech.

"Don't. Don't you even try insulting my parents," the Slytherin growled hotly. "You'll pay Potter, you'll pay. For that slip of your tongue."

•

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A/N: Despite the kind words of reviewers, I think this story is likely to be abandoned or put on hiatus after this chapter. It is indeed taking too much out of me, and although five chapters are already on the computer, I fear I cannot keep it up. I am sorry to those who have supported it thus far. Reviews and encouragement have helped me tremendously, and it might help now, but I cannot guarantee anything. All blame is mine.

As it is customary of me to thank my reviewers because they have been awesome in thier encouragement, here goes:

Hypersensitive: You, as always, are lovely. I can't thank you enough for your continuous support and fic dedication
Relle: KILL ffnet. Have you seen their 'site update' note? Its evil.
Eyriess: Thank you for your compliments. Both rewritten and reposted, so is this chapter. I do hope I won't be a great disappointment if I really stop. Its the same direction though, just little add-ons. Salt's lovely my dear. Heh.
Crybaby-xx: The review was delightful. I'm glad you thought it interesting.
Anitra Pachelbel: Thank you for the fav. =)
Fyrelement: Extraordinarily written? Rare? Wow, you're fantastic. I can't believe you think so highly of me, even going to call it 'exquisite'. Honoured that you dropped by, and thank you so much for your encouragements.
Lost Gryfindor: Girl you rock, have you got a plot yet?
XiaoBai: Yep, he's not totally that way though. It'll come out in later chaps, I think. I know. Salt on a small wound hurts enough. Thank you once again. =)
Quirkerstein: Unedited parts on on paper though. Heh. Ouch to ffnet. It's just done the same to a friend. Turn on? Wonderful, I accomplished something. The lovely praise made my day dear, and quirks we all have indeed.
Lil' Eowyn: Thank you once again for another lovely review. =)
Emerald Tigriss: Actually, its only be taken down once. ;) Thank you for the fav.
Devilserpent: I agree, but I'm a little lazy now. Thank you for the review.
Thank-yous also sail out to nocturnium13, Siren of the Darknessflame, Shadow Kitty, Eliza, lilypurewhite, sinner, AquaSpirit, ura, lurk i do and Sam.

Due to the fact that a reviewer has emailed me stating that she cannot see half of the fic, I have re-uploaded this chapter. After which, I will be discontinuing this more or less. Sorry.

Shadafakup