Author: daughterxofxapollo PM
The night Harry comes to age, Remus Lupin is jerked awake by a terrible feeling. The mate he thought had died before he came of age, was alive. Should be happy, right? Except that his mate was dying. Rated for extreme abuse. Slash RL/HPRated: Fiction M - English - Romance/Hurt/Comfort - Harry P. & Remus L. - Chapters: 4 - Words: 13,950 - Reviews: 112 - Favs: 283 - Follows: 430 - Updated: 10-26-12 - Published: 06-04-11 - id: 7051002
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Title: Delicious Soul
Side-Pairings: Ron/Hermione, Neville/Draco, Severus/Lucius, Past-Sirius/Remus, Sirius/Fred/George, Tonks/Kingsley, Voldemort/Bellatrix, Narcissa/Rabastan, Seamus/Dean
Warnings: Slash, Abusive!Dursleys, Threesome, AU, OOC, M-Preg. (Abuse includes verbal, mental, physical, and object penetration. You have been warned.)
Rating: M for extreme explicit abuse.
Canon Books One through Four and part of Five.
Disclaimer: I don't own. All belongs to J.K. Rowling. Some minor plot points may have been used in another story - I do not mean to steal anything. It is done subconsciously, and only when I read through it did I notice some things seemed slightly familiar.
Summary: The night Harry comes to age, Remus Lupin is jerked awake by a terrible feeling. The mate he thought had died before he came of age, was alive. Seventeen, but alive. Should be happy, right? Except that his mate was dying. As he races to rescue his unknown mate, the thought doesn't even pass his mind - who is his mate?
Start Date: 5/31/11
Edit Date: 10/26/12
A/N: I may or may not finish this story
Chapter One: Mine
Chapter Warnings: Slash, Language, Abuse via Vernon in the form of verbal, physical, and object penetration. This is not a chapter for the faint of heart.
Remus woke with a start, his breath harsh as chills traveled like spiders over his spine. His blond hair was mussed from tossing and turning through the night, his eyes were blood-shot and had deep shadows underneath. The full moon had been a week ago so his eyes were fading back to a light brown that swirled with amber in the light. Sweat dripped down his face, traveling down until it rolled off his chin to fall onto the mangled comforter. He hadn't transformed in a while so he should have been getting sleep, but for some unknown reason, he was restless. His wolf had been antsy, itching to get out no matter how far away the moon was, and he had this foreboding sense of dread, as if something terrible was going to happen. Not that terrible things happening was an odd occurence, they were at war, after all. But this... It seemed much worse than some raid or battle, if possible.
A clap of thunder went through the air and Remus's eyes darted up, taking in his surroundings before landing on the clock. Midnight. What could wake me up at midnight? He knew it wasn't the storm; the town had been having thunderstorms all week. Remus wasn't exactly a heavy sleeper, but he had to be after spending seven years of his life with Sirius. Though the habit had faded, that still wasn't a reason as to why he would wake up in the middle of the night.
As if to answer his ponderings, a strange feeling of rightness filled his chest, as if everything in the world was fixed. Remus Lupin was suddenly no longer a werewolf, no longer had to deal with paying for food, and no longer had to help fight off a certain Dark Lord. Euphoria filled him, and the world seemed golden. He'd never felt this happy and at peace before in his life. Everything was right in the universe for that one-second, before everything came crashing down.
Pain ricocheted through his chest and he was out of his bed in moments. Clothes flew everywhere as he struggled to get dressed as some part of his brain, the animalistic side, noticed his frantic movements for what they were. Mate, mate, mate, mate! Mate's in pain! Must save Mate! Dressed and armed with his wand, Remus didn't waste time putting on a coat before he rushed out into the rain. Logic had left him, and he had one goal in mind. To get to his mate.
Lightning illuminated his lithe frame as a silent pop echoed through the night and Remus disappeared from sight.
His mate was hurt.
Harry was laying on his side, curled in a ball as he faced the blinking red numbers on one of Dudley's old clocks, which happened to be five minutes fast. He resided in the smallest bedroom of Number 4 Privet Drive and rested on a long ago broken cot, stained lightly with his own blood. Rejected toys littered the walls, forgotten over time. Thunder clapped outside his window, but Harry took no notice. He was watching the clock, 11:05 it read. Ten minutes until his seventeenth birthday. Ten minutes until he could grab his trunk and leave this house forever, maybe to live with Sirius or Remus. Though the numbers were blurred, his glasses having been crushed due to Dudley reliving the days of 'Harry Hunting', he could tell he had ten minutes left. He sat up slowly and painstakingly, wincing. A wound on his back reopened and his broken rib gave a twinge, but he managed to sit up.
Vernon hadn't taken well to being threatened at the end of Harry's fifth year. Before then, it had mostly been neglect with a few beatings thrown in. He had impossible chore lists and was punished constantly, but only with lack of food. Only if he did something major did he get a real thrashing. Now, though? The chores had grown harder and more ridiculous, often tedious. Any food at all became scarce. While they let him keep his school things with promise he would not use them, he was beaten daily. From dropping a dish, burning food, or even for something as obscure as "contaminating the morning paper with his freakishness." This had been going on for two summers now. Every year when he returned to school, he was careful to apply glamours on the train and show no pain, no discomfort. Every once in a while he'd catch a concerned glance from his teachers when he limped or skipped a meal. Harry's stomach seemed to shrink every year, being unable to hold much food without throwing up. He was the shortest kid in his year and probably the shortest in the sixth and fifth years too due to living in a cramped cupboard for the first eleven years of his life.
Harry had to get out before tomorrow. His uncle had found out the one thing that could have possibly made him more of a freak then he already was. He had discovered Harry was gay. And if there was one thing Vernon hated more the motorcycles or even wizards, it was homosexuals. Harry had no doubt in his mind that he would die tomorrow if he did not escape. His uncle had gone to sleep without touching him that night, leaving the beating to Dudley, as he had an important meeting in the morning. But Harry had a sinking feeling in his stomach that he was just planning, waiting for the opportune moment to pounce. If he was going to kill Harry, he'd have to make sure Harry suffered as much as possible before he went. And the teen didn't plan on staying around long enough to find out what that meant.
Eight minutes. Harry slowly stood, biting his lip to hold back a gasp of pain. Hobbling over to his trunk, he pulled it back over to the broken cot, taking a seat with a sigh of relief. He didn't notice that the sound of his trunk scraping across the floor had happened during a calm spot in the storm, making it louder than he would have wished. Glancing around the room to make sure everything was packed, Harry froze like a deer in the headlights when he heard his uncle's snores falter for a moment.
Six minutes. He heard a muffled grunt, a bed creak under enormous weight. His uncle grumbled, heavy footsteps thudding against the ground as he made his way to his door. Harry's breath caught in his throat. This wasn't boding well for him. Emerald eyes darted to the window, which had been barred again last summer. Glancing towards the door, he tried to calculate how much time he had to make a break for it. Not much, judging by the thundering footsteps that were sounding closer and closer every passing second. Despite being disrupted from his slumber, his uncle was making a beeline towards his room, as if to make sure Harry couldn't escape. Harry was out of time. He pushed the trunk hastily away with his feet, wincing as it scraped along the floorboards. It was soon at the end of his bed, and he scampered backwards, gasping for breath at the pain in his ribs. Curling into himself at the top corner of his bed, Harry couldn't help but think that this feeling, this absolute terror for his life, not someone else's, was the feeling one must get before they died, before their life was snatched into Death's cold grasp.
Five minutes. Locks slid open outside his door and he squeezed his eyes shut, waiting and listening. The door creaked open slowly, which he was sure his uncle did purposely, to add dramatic effect. He didn't speak yet - probably saving his voice for the actual beating. His uncle tended to yell bruising words at him while he punished him. Harry's eyes opened just as lightning flashed across the room, outlining his uncle's obese form. In that glimpse of the man, Harry saw the cruel, sadistic smirk, beady eyes filled with loathing, and a metal bat held at the ready in his hand. Eyes closed again, he heard the air whistle past the bat as it struck his shoulder, along with the shattering crack of his bone. He didn't make a sound. He couldn't. Showing it hurt, showing pain through any sounds at all just enraged his uncle.
"Well, freak?" Another hit, this time along the back. "No one to help you this time, none of your freaky friends to save you now?" Vernon grunted out, hit after hit, watching with cruel satisfaction as blood stained Harry's shirt. The boy in question was biting his lip to keep from crying out, not letting himself even whimper.
"They don't care, either, you freak! You worthless waste of space!" Another crack went through the room, the pain forcing Harry to open his eyes "You fucking faggot! We give you a home, shelter; we've clothed your back for years and even found the kindness in our hearts to feed you, a worthless FREAK that was dumped on our doorstep because no one else cared enough to take you! You parents just had to go and get themselves blown up! I bet they hated you too! Who would want a worthless piece of shit like yourself? A faggot like you, a poofter!" He threw in a hit, sometimes even a kick for effect, as if to get the message to sink in. Harry felt anger swell up inside him, but not at the man who was beating him. No - at himself. I am a freak, a waste of space. Vernon's right, no one could like me, no one could care. His thoughts continued, colored with self-loathing, so distracted he actually let a whimper of pain out. That caused Vernon to hit harder, panting with renewed effort. "SHUT UP, BOY!" He dropped the bat, letting it to clatter to the floor, and yanked Harry's head up by his hair, causing him to gasp in pain as his injuries made themselves known. Multiple broken bones, he could tell already. There was no way he could survive this. That, though, he had expected. A sadistic smile crossed his uncle's face.
"I'll show you how we deal with freaks around here." He had obviously prepared this before entering Harry's room, for he pulled five strands of rope from his pocket. Harry knew what they were for, he had done this before. His uncle liked to make sure all of him was hurt, and usually had Harry near naked for this special punishment as well. So it was no surprise as he was yanked harshly, each wrist and ankle being tied before one went up to go in his mouth, gagging him. He bit the sweaty rope in pain, his injuries being jostled this way and that. Then, his uncle left. Glancing up when no immediate pain came, he saw his uncle enter his room again, this time with a metal flashlight. Harry stared at it, confused, as his uncle ripped all his clothes from his body.
"You're going to learn your lesson freak, and then I won't ever have to worry about you darkening this household ever again." Emerald eyes widened with realization as he felt meaty hands on his arse. He started to struggle, eyes wide with panic as he tried to speak. Cold metal touched his entrance and he screamed around the rope.
"Happy birthday, freak!" Cold metal tore his insides as it brutally entered him, sending unimaginable pain through his body, bloody and bruised. The last thing he saw before he passed out was his clock striking 12:05. Happy birthday, indeed.
Remus was in such a hurry, he didn't find anything unusual when he apparated to Number 4 Privet Drive, didn't make the connection in his frantic brain. All he could do was follow the pull to his mate. The smell of blood was emanating from the fairly normal house and Remus growled under his breath. Striding to the door, he drew his wand with hands quivering in anger. Opening the door, he carefully followed the smell of blood up the stairs and to the first door on the right, near the middle of the hallway. Multiple locks adorned the door, along with a cat flap that had Remus growling again, quietly so not to alert the enemy, the person who dared hurt his mate. The smell of blood reeked here, and Remus didn't even bother with alohomora. No, he kicked the door in, angered beyond belief at the sight before him. A fat muggle, with a bloody bat lying next to him, was pounding a metal thing in and out of his precious mate! The same mate that was bound to a broken cot, completely unconscious. He growled loudly, startling the whale of man, who jumped back from his mate as if he had been burned, turning to look for the source of the sound.
"WHO THE RUDDY HELL-"
"Stupefy!" Remus ground out, watching with a sick satisfaction as the man fell in the middle of his rant. Stepping around the man, he rushed to his mate's side, not taking in the boy's features, just easing the flashlight's handle out of his mate's abused entrance. Remus choked on anguish and fury, wanting to turn around and torture the man for all he was worth, but he needed to tend to his mate first. He could come back later to deal with the man responsible for all his mate's pain - right now, his mate's life was slowly slipping away, and that was his first priority.
The broken man was lying on his stomach, so he couldn't have seen his face if he wanted to - he didn't care who is was, as long as he was safe. Untying the rope that bound and gagged him, Remus wrapped him in a slightly bloody, ragged, and threadbare blanket. Lifting him gently in his arms, he winced as his mate let out a soft moan of pain in his sleep. Glancing down to get a glimpse of his precious mate's face, Remus froze. From unruly black hair, matted with blood, to the lightning shaped scar that adorned his forehead, Remus instantly recognized his mate, his godson, the man he already had an unconditional love for, and after only knowing they were mates for approximately six minutes. But it didn't matter now. Right now, all that mattered was making him safe. Amber eyes glancing at the packed trunk, he grabbed it with one hand while carrying his surprisingly light mate in the other arm. For once glad for the special port-key Albus had insisted on him having, he spoke the password before disappearing.
Words in the Unedited Chapter, just the story: 2,264 (One of my shortest chapters. Ever.)
Words for Unedited Whole Chapter: 2,698 (I talk too much, obviously.)
Not much added in this chapter, but LOTS of grammatical mistakes.