Title: Passive Aggressive
Fandom: Harry Potter
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Disclaimers: Harry Potter belong to me? I could only wish. Nope, not mine. These delightful characters are the sole property of J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers Studios, and a few other people I'd name if I could remember them. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is made. This is purely to silence the voices in my head.Notes: I know I didn't particularly need any new fics, but this is an old plot bunny that sank it's teeth in and just wouldn't let go.
Summary: Years after the War is over, Draco struggles with the boredom of victory.
Warnings: slash. occasional obscure references to sexual abuse and slavery.
Two bedraggled figures met on the road under the cover of a cloud covered moon. After exchanging safe words- you just couldn't be too careful these days- they gave a furtive glance around before vanishing into the forest. They traveled well beyond earshot of the road before settling down against an old oak. One offered whiskey, the other a bit of stale biscuit. The war made both commodities scarce- especially if you were on the losing side.
There was a general exchange of information, news and whatnot, before they finally got down to what they'd really met for.
"I don't like it. Surely we can come up with something better, something... safer."
"Don't reckon it matters if we like it or not. You know what he's like when he's set his mind. A thousand blood-thirsty dragons couldn't change it. We just have to trust that he knows what he's about. If he succeeds, he could free the wizarding world of those bastards, once and for all.
"But this is an all or nothing sort of plan. If anything goes wrong, he could.... die...."
The pair were silent for a long moment, each contemplating that. So many had been lost to the cause already, it didn't seem fair to lose this one. This one especially who was so important, not only to them but to the world in general. If this plan failed and he was lost, they would all be lost. It wasn't something either of them really wanted to think about, but there it was.
"Don't think like that," The taller of the pair pulled the other one close for a quick hug. "It'll be fine. We just have to trust him. He's never let us down before, he won't now."
The smaller sniffled a bit, but managed to offer a watery smile. "Of course. I believe in him."
And in the end, that was really all they could do. Suicide plan or not, it was the only thing anyone had come up with since they'd lost the wisdom of their old leader. Now the one who'd been thrust into his place was going to risk everything he was for one last bid for freedom.
"Oh, before I forget, if we don't hear directly from him in a fortnight, we're to go into hiding. All the rebels. No matter what we hear in the news about his fate. We're absolutely not to take matters into our own hands or avenge him. Not even a rescue attempt if he ends up captured. Insistent on it, he was. Those who can blend back in are to try and live their lives while the rest of us who are too high profile are to hole up somewhere."
"Until he calls us back."
The blonde sighed and ran one hand through his hair as he walked down the corridor, barely aware of his silent shadow. The wizarding world had grown so.. so.. boring lately.
He never thought he'd be missing the 'good old days' of war and treachery, but he was.
Draco Malfoy had never really thought beyond winning back when he'd thrown his lot in with his father and Voldemorte. All that had mattered to his young reckless mind had been that they overthrow the Light and take their proper place among wizards. The purging of Mudbloods had been a fun game and the battles with the Order had been an invigorating challenge.
He'd never stopped to consider what would come after.
There was no one to spy on, no one to challenge him, no one to test his wits or skill on.
The day he'd foiled Harry Potter's last grand scheme and brought his rival before the Dark Lord, he'd secured his ties to the Death Eaters and ensured that his was the second most powerful position in the hierarchy. Even his own father had to defer to him.
He was the Man who'd caputred The Boy Who Lived. He had single-handedly wiped out what little resistence and hope the Light had held onto.
He'd been ecstatic, sure that his life's goals had finally been met.
He hadn't realized that in meeting his goals, he'd left himself with nothing to replace them with.
There was nothing to do but idle his time away. Voldemorte ran the Wizarding world with an iron fist and a singular attention for detail that left little for his second in command to do. Torturing those of lower rank than himself had lost it's appeal years ago. There weren't too many Mudbloods running around to kill anymore and for whatever reason, the Dark Lord had decided to leave the Muggle world be for a while.
Truly, if it hadn't been for his reward from the final defeat he'd have gone mad by now!
The thought made him smile. He gazed back at the small form following him so closely. Amused silver met bland green. "Whatever would I do without you, Harry?"
Potter didn't respond, but then, Draco hadn't really expected him to. It had been years since his capture and the subsequent torture that had taken the other man's voice.
He didn't know everything that had been done to Harry, but he'd heard the screams. It had annoyed him quite severely to know that someone else was torturing his prize, but the Dark Lord had assured him that they were merely training him to be a proper pet.
When his rival had been released back into his custody, he'd been a changed man. Although, calling what Harry had become a 'man' might be reaching a little, Draco had to concede. He sighed and ruffled the shaggy black hair. It was a bit like having a particularly slow dog, he mused.
Well, perhaps not, he thought as he dropped a small kiss on the pert nose. He'd used Harry for any number of things over the years that he would not have even considered with a dog. He had more discerning tastes than most of his fellow Death Eaters after all.
"Are you hungry, Harry? I think I'd like a spot of tea and some crumpets." Not bothering to wait for a response he knew wouldn't come, Draco continued on his way to his private rooms. There he summoned a house elf and settled himself in one of the plush armchairs near the fireplace. "Tea and crumpets for two."
The house elf dipped it's head and cast a sad glance over at the silent Potter before disappearing with a flashy poof.
Not long afterwards, it returned with it's burden and placed it on the small table nearby. Potter waved away it's first attempt to serve and with another dip it was gone.
It had bothered Draco for a long time, this insistence Potter had for doing the serving when they shared a meal or tea, but in the end he'd taken back his protest of it. It was the only thing Harry ever took initiative in anymore. And while Draco would never admit it, it was about the only thing that reminded him that his pet was indeed Harry Potter and not just some lifeless doll.
Besides the sex of course. Though more often than not, Harry just obeyed and stared back as blandly as usual, every now and then there'd be a response. Especially after those occasions when Voldemorte insisted Potter be the 'entertainment' at a meeting or ceremony. For the first few days afterwards, he was always especially careful and gentle with his traumatized companion. Those times Harry's eyes took on an almost wistful look and he almost seemed to participate and desire their interludes.
Draco hated sharing his things, especially when those who borrowed them returned them in less than pristine condition, but he wasn't stupid enough to think he could say no to the Dark Lord. Second in Command or not, Voldemorte was still his master and Draco had come to suspect the use of his pet had become the wizard's favorite demonstration of that fact.
He'd love to be able to tell the old bastard where to shove it one day.
Harry finished pouring Draco's tea and knelt beside the chair, offering up a crumpet.
"Thank you, Harry." He ate the offered food slowly and neatly. Even without an audience, he was sure to be as aristocratic as possible. When he was done, he smoothed the dark hair back and sighed. "You should eat something too. You're too thin."
No response aside from the blank green stare he'd come to expect. He reached over and took another crumpet, tearing a piece off and holding it up to Harry's lips. It was always like this after Voldemorte had him for a few days.
It would take at least a week to get him to eat on his own again.
One day, Draco imagined, Harry would just give up and die. That thought made him cringe inside.
What had started out as a mean-spirited game to torment his former rival had become something else somewhere along the way. He'd come to care for his pet in ways he knew he shouldn't have. Draco honestly didn't know what he'd do if lost Harry.
For certain the boredom of the Wizarding World would do him in before anything else without the diversion of Harry's presence.
"I do miss your fire, though." He mused aloud when Harry turned his face away from the last offered bite and instead curled against Draco's leg. "You never had the greatest wit, but every now and then you came up with something truly amusing. And competing with you gave my life purpose."
Small hands curled loosely around his ankle and Draco played with the raven hair as he gazed down at the other man's figure. Potter had never really grown up, he mused. Oh, his mind had been old long before it's time but his body had never hit a final growth spurt. Malnutrition, he'd always assumed. It made him look more like a child than a grown man.
A beautiful child that made Draco do things completely out of character. Things like fall in love with a pet doll.
He leaned down and nuzzled Harry's hair. "Let's go to bed, shall we?"