:Cut to corner of the room where Draco is fuming behind his gag, tied naked to a pole with his wrists up over his head while Harry happily tickles his thighs with the back end of a quill:

The lemon is underway, and will be up by the end of the week! Be nice and review, now!)

Something was wrong with Draco Malfoy. He made little to no conversation with his housemates anymore. He was eating less, looking paler than usual, and avoiding eye contact with everyone, including his favorite Professor, Severus Snape. Even his torturing of the Gryffindors had taken a severe nosedive in creativity and general maliciousness, and he only seemed to be doing it to keep his reputation up with the other houses. He didn't even seem to be enjoying it anymore. Of course, no one would have noticed such insignificant things but his housemates, who didn't seem to care, and the boy who had watched him carefully every day for the past four years.

Harry Potter was currently staring at Malfoy from across the Great Hall, curiously keeping track of how many times his housemates 'accidentally' bumped into him as they scrambled to get at the best food. Malfoy wasn't even trying to fight them, letting them get what they wanted and picking at the leftovers. Though his head was held as high as ever, his eyes seldom left the tabletop. The smirk was there, but only on the surface. There was no power behind it at all. The grey eyes that had so often shot daggers at Harry seemed utterly unarmed, looking dull and tired. The look of the Slytherin Prince was there, but only on the outside. It was a mask to hide whatever emotion Draco Malfoy was struggling so hard to keep hidden.

"You're staring at that stupid git again," Ron informed him acidly.

Harry nodded. "Yes, I am." he verified, not caring that Ron was no doubt getting ready to smack him in the back of the head with his potions book. Lucky for the redhead Hermione intervened, taking the book out of his hands no more than three inches from Harry's temple. Ignoring the 'Really, Ron!', Harry continued to stare. His eyebrows twitched in anger when a rather large tremor went through Malfoy's slender frame and he squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. It took Harry a moment to find the reason for this as Malfoy was facing him and the table was in the way, but he did note that Crabbe's thick arm was moving in such a way that made it obvious he was doing something in Malfoy's lap with his hand.

Draco tried to move away, but Goyle's arm snaked around his shoulders and held him firmly in place. Draco was shaking violently, biting his lip. He looked mortified, but at the same time there was something else there that was preventing him from fighting. Several of the other Slytherins had taken to watching Malfoy writhe, and Crabbe's arm made a jerking motion as if he had suddenly gripped something very hard. Malfoy bit his lip so hard that it started to bleed, and he closed his eyes tightly, bowing his head ever so slightly. When he opened his eyes again Harry recognized the look and identified the emotion that had eluded him before.

Draco Malfoy was terrified.

The moment Harry stood up, enraged that nobody had noticed, all heads faced him. He stared and they simultaneously then turned to Malfoy. Whatever they had been doing to him had stopped and they had continued eating. The only indication of it was the small spot of red that Malfoy swiped at absently with his thumb before he resumed his meal.

The mask was back up and flawlessly guarded. Nobody saw that he was still trembling, if only slightly. Nobody but Harry. Harry was being stared at from students and staff alike as if he had gone mad, but he didn't care. Still infuriated, he strode from the hall resolutely toward his dorm, totally ignoring Ron and Hermione's calls for him to wait for them.

Hours later, past curfew for all good little students to be in their beds, Harry wandered down to the Slytherin Dorms with Invisibility Cloak keeping him hidden from unwanted hall monitors. He smiled wryly as he approached the entrance to the dorm. Tilting his head up, Harry hissed the command 'open' in parseltongue. The door slid up instantly. Never let it be said that being a Gryffindor that speaks parseltongue isn't fun sometimes. It hadn't taken long for Harry to figure out that every door, window, and secret passageway in the Slytherin dorms and even the Slytherin Prefect's bathroom opened, closed and locked to parseltongue.

Harry strode in, looking around at all the rich greens and silver trim. The fireplaces, two on each side, were always blazing at full capacity no matter what time of year it was. The couches and chairs were all facing one another, supposedly so that all students could see what their other housemates were up to at all times. Regardless of the suspicious nature of the inhabitants, the room was arranged quite comfortably, and Harry had to admit that he liked it in here... provided nobody was in here with him. This place was beautiful no doubt, but it wasn't a place he'd want to live. The company was less than desirable.

Speaking of company, he didn't have to wait long before two voices were heard coming in through a corridor. Harry pushed himself up against a wall to listen when he recognized the distinct sound of his rival's name whispered in the darkness. Two older Slytherin boys were talking about him, and one sounded very excited.

"Look, just remember the rules, alright? Nobody outside these dorms is to know about this training save the Dark Lord himself. Malfoy will be in the showers early to wait for you. Don't be late. Do whatever you want to him, he has to be ready to deal with whatever the Dark Lord has in store for him. Don't make him pass out, and don't touch him outside of the shower. That way we can wash away all of the evidence." the first boy explained.

"Got it. What about leaving marks? Won't anyone notice them?" asked the other.

"No. Nobody outside of these dorms ever sees Malfoy naked. Leave all the marks you want, just don't scar him. The Dark Lord will not be pleased with that. Make him submit completely, but keep him beautiful. That's what he wants."

"I can't believe it. He's getting his just rewards for all the shit he's put us through, you know. Serves him right being chosen as the Dark Lord's personal whore. How long has his training been going on?"

"Since summer break. Now be there at 5 in the morning, and not a moment before or after, understand? You have to let him wash before you touch him after Crabbe's turn, and if you're late he has the right to leave."

Harry winced. That would explain it all right. They left for bed and Harry muttered obscenities to himself in the dark, trying to figure out what he wanted to do about this. Since summer break? That's six months, and Malfoy had only recently been showing signs that Harry could notice. He must have been completely broken. That was the only explanation for the sudden turn in his demeanor after five and a half months. Harry had to do something.

That something clicked in Harry's head and he smiled, making his way to Draco's single room. After so long wandering around down here at night he knew every Slytherin by name, and exactly where they slept. He crept into Draco's room as silently as he could, knowing that he woke easily. He stared down at Malfoy's sleeping face a moment, awed by how angelic he looked while unconscious and unaware. After a few moments of just looking at Malfoy, Harry reached down and set his alarm clock ahead an hour. As he tiptoed out of the room and softly shut the door behind him, Harry whispered...

"See you at 3:30, Malfoy."

Four hours later Harry was already back in Draco's room as his alarm went off. He stood in the far corner and watched as the blonde groaned and rolled over to bat at the clock until he found the switch.

"Bloody hell..." he groaned and sat up, trying to smooth out his bedraggled hair on instinct. Draco soon realized the futility of it and pulled his hand away, staring at it as if it had been acting on it's own. He sighed and got out of bed, turning around to make his own bed before he got ready to go.

Harry smiled at this. It never occurred to him whether or not Draco Malfoy made his own bed or not. Harry himself never did, and left it for a house elf to do while he was in classes. He didn't see the point in doing it if he'd just have to do it again the next day. Draco did something for himself every day. What a surprise.

Draco began to tremble as he pulled the nightshirt up over his head, donning his robe before pulling his pajama bottoms off and gathering his shower things. It was obvious he knew what to expect, he just didn't know who or what they were going to do to him when they got there. Draco muttered something to himself several times, then left after taking a few deep breaths.

Harry waited a minute or two before following. He kept back enough so that Malfoy shouldn't have been able to hear him, but the blonde turned back and scanned the hall a few times anyway. When Draco turned to look behind him again by the open door to the showers Harry carefully pushed through, being careful not to touch him and alert him to his presence.

Draco shut the door, not locking it, and proceeded to the showers. He turned three shower heads to face him and put them all on nearly scalding hot water. Harry watched as he stripped and stepped under the collective streams, crying out as the heat scorched his many new and healing wounds. Harry was shocked at the many bruises, scratches and bite marks that marred his nearly glowing white skin. It didn't take long for the water to turn him an unusual pink, the skin around his wounds starting to turn red. He was determined to stay under the water though, and was scrubbing at his skin as if he were trying to rub it all off.

Harry winced, imagining how that must hurt, and wondering just how dirty someone had to feel inside to be forced to hurt themselves like that. Draco was crying, the pain getting to be too much for him. It was obvious that he was beginning to feel faint.

Harry had had enough of watching.

He went back and locked the door, using parseltongue. Not even the password would open it now. Not that he had anything to worry about, since nobody was expected in here for another hour at least. Harry divested himself of his clothing, still keeping the cloak on the whole time, and stepped where he would be within view of the Slytherin. Harry waited just a moment more before flinging his cloak to the side, standing directly behind Malfoy. The sudden sound of the material sliding off and landing on the floor with a wispy echo in the green tiled room caused him to turn.

Draco's eyes went wide. "P-Potter?" he stammered, looking more frightened than Harry had ever seen him before. He trembled under the stream of steaming water, not daring to move. No doubt he thought that Harry had switched sides. Not only that, but he was now in the most vulnerable position possible and at the mercy of his rival.

Now given a full frontal view of the other boy, Harry let his eyes wander over the almost femininely thin form. The bruises were mostly confined to his wrists, ankles and neck. It was pretty obvious he had been bound at some point, and the rope or whatever they had used to tie him up with had been tight enough to tear at his skin. Scratches were healing and bleeding anew from the harsh scrubbing all over him, and Harry knew they must have had to try hard to get at all of him like that. Not an inch of him below his neck was without some kind of scratch. The bite marks, he noted with sadness, were all confined to Malfoy's neck, shoulders, abdomen, and his upper and lower inner thighs. Those areas were all very sensitive, and must be agonizingly painful with all of those crescent shaped wounds all over. Now that his silky platinum blonde hair wasn't slicked back Harry could tell a small patch of it was missing above his right ear, and his hips bore small puncture wounds that could have only been caused by being stabbed repeatedly with the tips of his housemate's wands. It seemed like sacrilege, to mar such pretty white skin like that. Harry was amazed he was still standing, let alone able to keep under that harsh battering of overly hot water.

Draco was looking him over as well. The taller, darker boy more built and scarred from his battles and rough Quidditch matches. Harry's hair had grown out a bit, just brushing the tips of his shoulders, and was somehow more tamed now that it was weighed down. As his eyes trailed lower he gasped and backed up a bit, turning a slightly darker shade of pink on his cheeks. Even flaccid, Draco could tell that Potter was very well endowed. Eyes shining, Draco bowed his head and waited patiently for his training to begin.

Harry brought his eyes back up to Malfoy's face, then started to walk forward at an even and controlled pace. He noted with growing sorrow, how Malfoy became increasingly upset with every step as Harry came closer to him. By the time he got to the blonde he was pressed against the wall, gasping and cringing as he cried. Harry winced at the water's painful sting. He reached behind Malfoy and grasped his waist, pulling him forward and against his chest. The smaller boy made a terrified sound in his throat and Harry shushed him lightly. Immediately he took a deep breath and held it a moment, not making any more noise. It was released however, and joined with a confused look upward when Harry reached behind Draco to turn down the water to a comfortable and much more bearable temperature.

The cooler stream ran over Draco and he let out a small sigh. His eyes closed and he swallowed hard, tensing when Harry ran a finger over the sore patch on his scalp where his hair had been ripped out. Harry gave him what he thought was an encouraging squeeze and stepped back a little so that he could see Draco properly. He let his hands wander over him everywhere, pausing to inspect a particular wound before moving on to the next. Harry was relieved when he determined that none of them would scar except for a few bites on his left thigh that would require a bit of help healing properly.

As Harry explored Draco's skin, the pale form trembled violently, occasionally bracing himself for what he felt certain would turn into a slap or pinch instead of the gentle caresses he was receiving. After a while he started to relax marginally, letting his hands rest on Harry's shoulders while he knelt and inspected the lower wounds. Draco jerked and hissed, biting his lip when Harry's hand found the crevice below Draco's tailbone and pressed gently at it curiously. Harry's hand easily slipped in, and felt the abnormal warmth and slickness there. He almost smiled. Draco was smart. No matter how very sore he was from his previous encounters he had still screwed up enough courage to prepare himself for the next one. Intense grief radiated off of Draco suddenly and Harry looked up at him, frowning.

"I... I'm s-sorry." Draco whispered, emitting a small hiccupping sob. "I'll wash it out if you want..."

Harry stood and Draco cringed, his entire body going taut. Harry shushed him again as he started little whimpering cries when Harry tilted his chin up with two strong fingers and kissed his cheek. Harry smiled at him as sweetly as he knew how.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Draco." he assures him. The Slytherin looked so confused and upset for a moment that Harry feared he wasn't going to believe him. "I swear. I'm not here to molest or violate you, Draco. I'm going to make sure that nobody ever hurts you like that again." Draco's eyes flashed for an instant, as if to say, "How dare you let me think it for so long, then!" But it was only an instant. Draco broke into weak sobs, leaning into Harry's chest and holding onto his neck for support as he cried. Harry held him and just let him cry himself dry. It didn't take long, as the smaller boy was still tired and his injuries had sapped what little rest he had acquired that night right out of him. Draco swayed a bit and Harry leaned him against the wall, grabbing the bar of soap from Draco's little basket of bathing supplies. He washed him all over, even shampooing his hair and carefully avoiding the sore patch. Harry then held Draco under the stream to rinse and turns off the water, picking him up and carrying him to the bench not far behind them.

He dries Draco off gently, keeping his touch light so as not to upset his wounds. Harry then dries himself and lays the towel on the bench and sits, pulling Draco onto his lap. The Slytherin suddenly cringes and starts babbling in French, sounding terrified. Not many people knew that the Malfoy household's main language was French. Like most Pure-blood families they liked to keep to their roots, and the Malfoy line had originated in France. English was Draco's second language. Harry knew it though, and it didn't surprise him when Draco started babbling like that. He pulled him close, ignoring the squeal of protest, and rocked him steadily, muttering comforting words. Soon the episode passed and Draco just sat there, allowing himself to be held.

Harry starts to run his fingers through Draco's hair, brushing it back against his head in what he knew was the blonde's preferred style. It fell into place easily and Harry smoothed it out, smiling when Draco moved his right hand to touch his hair to make sure Harry had done it right. Draco takes a few deep breaths to calm himself and bites his lip a moment, shivering from cold now that they were no longer under the shower's stream.

He swallows hard, "Y-you didn't..."

Harry chuckles, feeling Draco tense in response. "Did you think I was?"

Draco nods, seeming almost ashamed at himself for thinking Harry Potter would lower himself to rape. "I did... not anymore. What do you want with me, then?"

Harry hums as he thinks that over, trying to figure out how to respond without scaring Draco any more. "I don't want to see you suffer." he answers simply. Draco huffs a small laugh, then turns his head away.

"I don't deserve that... I'm not even a Malfoy anymore. I'm just a whore."

Harry sighs, wrapping Draco's towel around him to keep the trembles down. "Look at me." he says, and Draco obediently complies, never thinking that he had a choice. Upon meeting those eyes Harry knew that the blonde truly believed in what he had just said, and he frowns. "How much pain did they have to put you through before you started to believe that?"

Draco winces and turns away again, tensing as if he is going to try and spring out of Harry's grasp, but he stays put. His shaking intensifies and he strains slightly against the arms that held him so securely. He takes a breath and wipes his eyes free of the moisture in them. "What are you going to do with me, Potter? What do you want?" he whined.

"I want to help you."

"Why? Why did you let me think that you were here to fuck me just like everyone else for so long? Why do you have to be so damned gentle with me when pain is the only thing that I'm really accustomed to? Why do you want to help me after all the nasty things I've done to you?" He was openly wailing now, body wracked with the force of his sobs. "Pourquoi la boîte't je vous déteste?" (1)

Harry rocked him again, letting this second fit pass as he had the first. Draco slowly calmed, and was reduced to more little hiccupping sobs. He groaned, head lolling to the side and resting on Harry's shoulder. Harry kissed his forehead and he sniffed lightly, pulling his towel tighter around himself.

"I'm so tired..." he groaned. Harry picked him up and dressed him in his black robe, gathering his things. Draco noticed what was going on and he tensed, struggling gently. "Where are you taking me?" he asked, tone almost demanding. "Not to Pomphrey?"

Harry smiled. "No. I'm taking you to the tower with me." Harry set him down on the bench and dressed, folding his invisibility cloak and putting it in Draco's basket. He held out a hand to him. "Come on, lets get some of your things."

Draco gapes at him, shaking his head. "You can't just... they'll come after me! I'm OWNED!" he protested, though weakly. Harry huffed and picked him up again, carrying him to the door. Draco's struggles persisted until he heard the hissing, and saw the door open smartly. Draco's bewildered look turned to recognition and he looked up with surprise at Harry. "Let's see them come after you when they can't get out of the dungeon." Harry smirked.

Draco soon found himself outside the Dorm entrance and Harry turned back, hissing a loud command at the door. Draco saw it close and metallic snakes slid out from the wall from little passages that he could have sworn were never there before, latching together in the middle. He heard similar things happening inside the dorms, every door and window locking their prisoners securely inside. Harry turned and took Draco up the stairs, never loosening his grip in the slightest.

Draco let his head rest on the larger boy's shoulder, as scared as he was relieved. Somehow, he thought, everything was going to be ok. Harry would make everything ok.

(This was pretty much a midnight babble. It will probably not be continued, as it was just an inspirational piece. I've got a million of them.

:Points to the review button:)

(1) "Why can't I hate you?"