Harry Potter, Everything Goes to Hell

Title: Everything Goes To Hell [Terry/Harry]
Rating/Warnings: R for some seriously fucked up head games.
Summary: Harry and Remus find out exactly what’s been going on with Draco.
AN: Based on the situations and characterizations in The_Lightning_War RPG. There’s a fuller description of what had been going on in the RPG here.

Harry and Terry were standing by the lake smoking when Terry tensed suddenly and tossed his cigarette into the grass. Harry had barely turned to see what the matter was when Seamus drove a shoulder into Terry’s middle, throwing them both to the ground.

“Seamus?” Harry asked stupidly. Seamus struck Terry’s nose with a wet smack, galvanizing Harry into action. “Terry!”

Harry lunged forward and dragged Seamus off Terry by the robe collar, nearly catching a fist in the face himself for his troubles.

“Seamus!” he shouted. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“I’ll kill him!” Seamus roared, thrashing until Harry thought his arms might wrench out of their sockets. “Let me go, you fucking bastard!”

Terry had climbed to his feet, seeming not even to notice that blood was pouring from his nose and lip. His expression was completely closed off as he watched Harry struggle with Seamus.

“Let him go, I can handle him,” he said after a moment.

“Not helping!” Harry snarled. He finally managed to swing Seamus a bit to the side so that he could put himself between Seamus and Terry. “Seamus, stop! What the fuck’s the matter with you?!”

“He…bastard…hair…” Seamus seemed incapable of delivering a complete thought in his rage. Without thinking, Harry let go with one hand and slapped him hard across the face. Seamus went pale and still.

“Tell me what’s going on right now,” Harry ordered coldly. Seamus seemed to gather himself.

“He’s been blackmailing Draco,” Seamus hissed, shooting a glance over Harry’s shoulder to where Terry was still standing. “Making him do things, all term, since summer.”

Harry felt cold suddenly, but Seamus had more.

“Must’ve got one of my hairs,” Seamus snarled, lips pulling so far back from his teeth that it must have hurt. “He used Polyjuice. He went down to the dungeons as me, then stayed just long enough so Draco could see him change back.”

“What?” Harry stared down at Seamus uncomprehendingly.

“He stole my fucking face, Potter,” Seamus spat, finally tearing himself free of Harry’s numb fingers. He stood, glaring white-faced at Harry with a heaving chest. “He stole my body and raped Draco with it. Go on, deny it!” he screamed at Terry.

Harry turned slowly to face Terry who had neither moved nor changed expressions.

“Why should I?” Terry said in a blank voice. “It’s true.”

“Terry?” Harry asked in a very small, very hollow voice.

“For his father’s things,” Terry explained flatly, as if he was telling Harry about a Potions exam. “It was stupid things at first, then a few beatings. It got out of control.”

“All term?” Harry asked, feeling dizzy and stupid.

“Since summer,” Terry answered.

Harry turned without a word, walking past Seamus without a second glance, leaving his school bag and robes by the lake, and climbed the hill back towards the castle, concentrating very hard on not falling on his face, even though the world felt like it was spinning wildly underneath his feet.

* * * * * *

Remus looked up from the essay he was grading when his door was pushed open without a knock, surprised to see Harry in the middle of the day, especially Harry without his bag or robes. He opened his mouth to say hello when something in the tight way Harry was holding himself made the words die in his throat.

He got up while Harry was closing the door quietly behind him and came around the desk. He put hands on Harry’s shoulders and examined the confused green eyes that blinked up at him behind thick lenses.

“Harry,” he said gently, “What’s happened? Is it Voldemort? You haven’t been possessed again, have you?”

Harry let out a weird giggle that made the hairs on Remus’ neck raise.

“No,” he answered. “No, I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” Harry let out another little laugh and Remus felt a chill pass through him.

“Please tell me what’s happened, Harry,” Remus asked again.

“Seamus just told me,” Harry answered, having trouble getting all the words out around the giggles he couldn’t quite suppress, “that Terry’s been blackmailing Draco with his father’s possessions all term. And just the other day he…he…”

Harry’s face sort of writhed for a moment, then the laughter took over again, the wrongness of the sound scraping over Remus’ ears like nails on a chalkboard.

“Polyjuice,” Harry announced suddenly, and Remus swallowed hard, able to easily imagine half a dozen places this could go, and none of them were good. “He turned himself into Seamus and…Draco…”

Remus sucked in a breath, remembering Seamus’ fumbling questions about his sexuality, and suddenly having all-too-clear an idea of what had happened.

“Terry went to Draco as Seamus, is that it?” Remus asked softly, trying to spare Harry from actually saying the words. “He’s abusing Draco sexually.”

Harry nodded slowly, wide eyes pleading for something and still laughing weakly. Each mirthless noise cut into Remus a little deeper.

Remus had heard laughter like that more than once in his life. From several Order members in the course of the first war. From Sirius right after Azkaban, and again in the weeks right before his death. From himself, the November morning Frank Longbottom came to tell him that three of his best friends were dead and the fourth was going on trial for it.

It was the sound of somebody who has had nearly all that they can take. Harry was on the verge of a breakdown, and Remus thought heavily that it was a wonder it had taken this long.

Having nothing else to say, Remus pulled Harry close to hug him. Harry pressed his face into Remus’ neck and shook as if he was crying, but only more muffled laughter came out.

“Terry…Draco…”Harry’s words untangled themselves from Remus’ robes slowly. “The whole time…I’ve been sl-sleeping with him…”

Something finally did come loose inside Harry, Remus felt it give with an almost physical snap, and Harry began to cry at last, clutching at Remus convulsively and gasping harsh sobs against his shoulder.

Remus wanted to murder Terry Boot, wanted to take him by the neck and shake him until his neck snapped, both for Harry’s sake and for Draco’s. He had to settle for crushing Harry to his chest and rubbing his back soothingly.

Harry cried longer than Remus would have imagined possible, cried until no more tears came and he could no longer make noise, but still he pressed against Remus, shaking and hiccupping silently. Remus was still not calm enough to trust himself to speak.

Instead he pulled gently away from Harry, who lacked the strength to keep a hold on him. He went to a bookcase and tapped several apparently random books sharply, then pulled out another and the whole case swung outward a little. He reached behind and drew out the silvery folds of the Invisibility Cloak he had hidden there for Harry weeks ago.

Returning to Harry, he wrapped the soft folds around Harry’s shoulders and tugged the front together. He finally spoke, low and steady.

“Go to my rooms,” he ordered. “The password’s ‘Footpad‘. I want you to lay down and sleep if you can. I’ll come as soon as I’m able, and I’ll bring you dinner.”

Harry sniffled hoarsely in reply, still staring up at Remus. He didn’t move.

“Go on,” Remus tugged the hood over Harry’s face and kissed the top of the invisible head. “I’ll be there soon, I promise.”

He gave Harry a gentle push towards the door, and after a second of lag the door opened just far enough for a thin teenager to squeeze through, then shut again silently.

Remus went back around his desk, pushing the bookcase back against the wall as he passed. He sat down gingerly in chair, staring uncomprehendingly at the work he had been doing before and wanting to do nothing but have a good cry himself.

After a moment he pulled open a drawer and rummaged around for a different parchment, one that had dozens of other handwritings appearing and disappearing on it all the time. He addressed a brief note to McGonagall to say that Harry was safe and that no one might see him around for a bit, and another to Draco, asking if he could come down to his office, today if possible, or tomorrow at the latest. He paused, hand suspended in midair, for a moment before starting a new entry.

After marking his entry [Private], Remus toyed with his quill a moment before simply writing:

Padfoot—
If I can keep either myself or Harry, or both of us, from following you past that damned veil before this term is over, it’ll be a miracle.
I need you — Moony

Remus still had his head buried in his hands when there was a sharp knock on his door.

“Come in,” Remus sighed after a moment. If he hadn’t been fairly sure it was Draco, he might have made some attempt to straighten his ragged appearance, but the teenager had seen his legal guardian in much worse states of disrepair.

“Is something happening?” Draco asked bluntly as he came into the room. One look at Remus and his expression solidified into resignation. “Lay it on me, this week can’t get much worse as it is.”

Remus sized up Draco for a moment silently, now able to read the tightness across his face and the light shaking of his hands with unfortunate clarity. His eyes were just as confused and tired as Harry’s had been, and Remus wondered whether Draco was as close to a breakdown. Maybe he’d already been there and back.

“How’s your back?” Remus asked instead, putting off the real conversation for a few seconds longer.

“It’s better,” Draco seemed to relax a tiny bit, and he flexed his shoulders slightly. “The salve really did help, it isn’t bleeding anymore. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Remus shrugged. “I am your guardian after all, Draco.”

There was another moment of silence.

“You might as well go on and tell me,” Draco sat on the very edge of the chair in front of Remus’ desk. “Whatever it is isn’t going to get any easier, judging from your face.”

“I know what Terry Boot has been doing to you,” Remus said softly, suppressing a sigh at Draco’s suddenly closed-off expression. “Or at least, I know about the Polyjuice, and I’ve good guesses as to the rest.”

Draco closed his eyes and sagged back against the chair, so pale Remus imagined he could see blue blood vessels pulsing beneath the surface of his skin.

“What are you going to do?” Draco finally whispered.

“Nothing, unless there is something you would like me to do,” Remus said quietly. “Does he still have all of your family’s things?”

“He gives them back one or two at a time,” Draco answered weakly, eyes still shut.

“How many are left?”

Draco shrugged lightly. “I’ve no idea. A half-dozen of my father’s journals at least. Who knows what else he’s got. It’s two, three weeks of meetings at least.”

Remus clenched his hands, fighting the wolf instinct to smash something with everything he had. He took several deep breaths before he was sure he could speaking without his voice shaking.

“I wanted you to know that I knew,” he said at last, voice low but even. “So you’d know you could talk about it if you wanted to.”

“Thank you,” Draco whispered dully. Needing to move, Remus stood and came around the desk. He touched Draco’s shoulder gently and felt the boy flinch at the touch.

“Draco, don’t do this much longer,” Remus pled softly. “What he’s doing to you…you’re going to be damaged permanently sooner or later. And I’m not talking about those cane marks.”

“I don’t have a choice,” Draco answered hollowly. He looked up at Remus, desperation strewn across his face. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to,” Remus repeated. “But if there is anything I can do, anything, Draco, please tell me.”

“There’s nothing anybody can do.” Draco dropped his eyes. “I’m just going to have to take it until he’s through. I was managing…” Draco’s voice started to shake. “When it was just him, when I still had Pansy and Millie and…and Seamus. Now, I can’t…the whole time I’m with them, I’m wondering if it’s really him.” Draco cut himself off with a hurking intake of breath before the last few words came out in a tumble. “I can’t even look at Seamus, that bastard’s taking everything from me, everything…”

Draco broke off at last, long past where any normal person would have been unable to stop tears, but he kept struggling against his, blinking angrily.

Remus wanted nothing more than to hug Draco tightly, but was fairly certain that sudden physical contact would do more damage than good to a recent sexual abuse victim. Unable to do nothing any longer, Remus reached out a hand to Draco, allowing him to accept it if he wanted it. Draco stared at it for a moment before taking it gingerly, his hand feeling cold and clammy to Remus. Remus tugged him up out of his chair gently and pulled him close slowly, giving him plenty of time to pull away.

Draco stiffened when Remus slid arms around his thin back. He relaxed by degrees, returning the hug awkwardly, as if he had not received a proper one for a some time. After so much time with Harry, Remus was very used to this and simply held on, letting Draco move closer or draw back as he chose.

Draco stepped back after a few seconds, and Remus dropped his arms. Draco looked a little less like he might shatter at any moment, but he was still shaking slightly and wore a pinched expression. He stared at the floor rather than meeting Remus’ eyes.

“I know we aren’t very close,” Remus said after a moment. “Sometimes, Harry comes by just to talk, even if nothing in particular is wrong. I want you to feel that you can do the same, any time you want.”

Draco nodded once, still staring at his feet. Remus reached over his desk and opened a drawer, then pulled out a squat jar.

“More salve,” Remus explained, handing it to Draco, who clenched a hand around it. “Your back shouldn’t need any more as it is now, but…”

Remus trailed off with a sigh and Draco nodded again.

“I’m going to make some incredibly strong tea now,” Remus informed the pale teenager. “You are more than welcome to stay if you want.”

“I…no, thanks,” Draco finally dragged his gaze up from the floor and gave a quirked half-smile. “Pansy’ll worry if I miss dinner.”

Draco paused at the door to thank Remus softly again, then slipped out, shutting the door firmly behind him.

* * * * * *

Remus didn’t see Harry in his rooms when he entered, but wasn’t concerned. He set the tray of food he had procured from the kitchens down on a table and leaned into the bedroom.

A soft sigh came from nowhere, and a shallow dent in Remus’ blankets shifted slightly. Remus chuckled and reached down to tug the hood of the invisibility cloak off Harry’s face before the kid suffocated himself.

What is it about Potters and Invisibility Cloaks? Remus mused to himself, thinking of all the times he’d seen James do the same thing. It’s like they think their problems will leave if they can’t find them.

He turned to leave the room, planning to let Harry sleep as long as he needed to, when Harry began to whimper. Sighing, Remus sat down on the edge of his bed and shook Harry lightly by the possibly-shoulder.

Harry came awake with a start, glancing around wildly. He looked around the room in confusion before focusing on Remus, then slumped a little back against the pillows.

“Nightmare,” he whispered.

“I know,” Remus said, reaching over to smooth down Harry’s sleep-wild hair soothingly. “I brought sandwiches and soup, and tea if you aren’t up to either of those.”

Harry agreed to tea and possibly soup, and Remus even talked him into half a sandwich, although Harry only took a few bites before shredding the rest beyond recognition.

“If he would have been a Death Eater or something,” Harry finally said suddenly, “I would have understood that. This doesn’t make any sense.”

“Sixteen-year-olds don’t, a lot of times,” Remus said. He suppressed a wince as he thought of several of the more horrible things he’d helped the other Marauders do during his teenage years. “They grow out of it, most times.”

“I’m not sure you grow out of being a sexually abusive sadist,” Harry replied miserably, shredding his sandwich still further. “It was stupid of me to think I could even have a relationship. It was stupid to even try.”

Remus thought his heart might break for the Boy Who Might Live If He Survived His First Breakup.

“Harry, listen to me,” Remus said firmly, reaching over to force Harry to look up at him. “I won’t pretend this whole situation isn’t unbelievably horrific. But it’s never stupid to love somebody, or even just be attracted to them. And it’s never ever stupid to try and take whatever happiness you can find with them.”

“Better to have loved and lost, Remus?” Harry shrugged him off. “You’ll pardon me if I snort derisively just now.”

“I’ll pardon you if you do a lot worse than that before this is all over,” Remus reassured, thinking of several things he’d like to do personally to the Ravenclaw responsible.

What he did do was to pretend he didn’t see the look of cold calculation forming on Harry’s face.

* * * * * *

Draco found Harry already waiting for him inside the Forbidden Forest at their usual time on Monday, but the dark rings under his eyes and pale mien didn’t say he was raring for a fistfight. Draco said as much.

“You don’t look so brilliant yourself,” Harry shrugged. “I want to talk to you a minute, then we can beat the crap out of each other as usual if you want.”

Draco eyed Harry dispassionately for a moment before sitting slowly on the ground beside him, carefully avoiding resting his still-healing back against the tree behind him.

“I’m the one who told Remus about Terry blackmailing you,” Harry told him bluntly. “I was with Terry when Seamus attacked him, that’s how I found out. I wasn’t really in a state to think about it at the time, but it wasn’t my secret to tell, and I’m sorry.”

“He already knew most of it anyway,” Draco shrugged after a few moments, “so don’t worry about it.”

“When do you see Terry again?” Harry asked.

“Tomorrow night,” Draco answered guardedly. “Why?”

Harry didn’t answer, but he leaned over to pluck several hairs out of Draco’s head with deliberation. Draco said nothing and did not interfere while Harry pulled a small vial out of his pocket and dropped the hairs into it.

“Polyjuice takes a month to brew,” Draco stated, as if he was mentioning a bit of random trivia.

“Yes it does,” Harry nodded, tucking the vial back into his robes. “Spend tomorrow night where no one will find you. The Room of Requirement should be good enough.”

“You don’t want to do this, Potter,” Draco said angrily, wondering why he wasn’t going to stop Harry. He felt a burst of fury when Harry didn’t answer and began stripping off his shirt, twisting around so Harry could get a good look at his back.

Harry remained silent, but Draco felt him touch one of the deeper grooves and suppressed a wince. When Harry withdrew his hand, Draco yanked his shirt back up but didn’t re-button it before turning around. There was really no point if they were going to fight in a minute.

“Remus has been healing them for better than two weeks,” Draco informed him coldly. “So I suggest you put your misplaced Gryffindor self-sacrifice back in your pants and let me finish things for myself.”

“Don’t show up tomorrow,” Harry repeated stubbornly. “I blew your cover, I’ll take the hit for it and we’ll be even.”

“You don’t want this one,” Draco hissed, clenching his fists till his knuckles were white. “Terry’s furious Seamus found out. I can’t even imagine what fucked up thing he’s got planned for me.”

“Then be glad you won’t be there for it,” Harry shrugged with maddening calm. He stood up and dusted the moss off his pants. “Come on, I don’t have all night to kick your arse.”

It was one of the fiercest fights they’d had yet, and Draco wondered more than once what personal demon Harry was exorcising on his face and how Terry Boot was involved.

“Potter, tell me why,” Draco asked as he watched the black eye and cuts fade from Harry’s face.

“If someone was blackmailing me with my father’s things, I would have murdered him in cold blood,” Harry answered, carefully polishing his glasses rather than meeting Draco’s eyes.

“That’s not the reason,” Draco said with certainty.

“It’s a good one, though,” Harry shrugged, turning his back.

* * * * * *

Draco, slumped in a suitably comfortable chair, was slightly surprised when the door to the Room of Requirement clicked open, but not shocked when a white-faced Harry Potter fell through the doorway and supported himself against the table that was suddenly in exactly the right spot.

With a humorless smile, Harry tossed a schoolbag at Draco’s feet, wincing at the motion. Draco knew from his face what was in the bag without looking.

“How?” he merely asked, feeling numb.

“You may have something to lose from telling people that Terry Boot beat you to within an inch of your life with a cursed object,” the smile grew slightly feral, “but I sure as hell don’t.”

“Potter…” Draco swallowed hard, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he was free of Boot.

“Don’t,” Harry commanded, pulling himself up to sit on the table with a groan. “We’re even.” Harry took a few deep breaths before announcing quietly, “I’m going to be sick.”

Feeling like he ought to do something while Harry retched into the dustbin the Room had so thoughtfully provided, Draco stepped closer and touched Harry’s shoulder awkwardly.

Harry couldn’t entirely swallow the cry of pain, any more than he could hide the tacky feel of the robes over the shoulder where the schoolbag had rubbed.

“Let me see,” Draco ordered firmly. He pulled the jar Remus had given him out of his pocket. “I thought I might be needing this.”

Harry had bled right through his shirt underneath the robes, and Draco was not ashamed at all at how relieved he was to have missed this beating. Harry was clearly trying not to be sick again as Draco helped him peel the shirt off his back, ripping open whatever wounds drying blood had managed to close.

“I require,” Harry said weakly, “not to throw up anymore because it makes my back peel off.” Draco gave another sharp tug, and Harry grabbed for the bin hurriedly.

“Guess even the Room has limits,” Draco said.

“Worth a try,” Harry gasped, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

They were both silent, except for Harry’s small noises of pain, as Draco smoothed a thick layer of salve over the cuts and welts.

“Give it a few minutes to dry some,” Draco told Harry when he was finished. Then, after several heartbeats, “You shouldn’t have done this. Not for me.”

“Didn’t do it for you,” Harry replied faintly, without lifting his head from where it was leaning on the side of the dustbin. “Do me a favor and I’ll owe you one.”

“What?”

“Hate me forever,” Harry tried to sit up and hissed in pain. “The only thing that makes my life bearable lately is knowing I’ll get to pound your face in every Monday.”

“I was going to do that anyway, Potter,” Draco gave a dark laugh, “so you can have that one for free.”

“It’s ridiculously ironic,” Harry’s grim laugh turned into a dry heave, “that there’s only two people I can depend on, and you’re one of them.”

As he was picking up the bag, Draco shook his head slightly.

“I wish I could have seen that bastard’s face,” he murmured. Harry made a harsh noise, but when Draco turned, he assumed it was only from Harry trying to get his robes back on.

“Remind me next time we’re in Dumbledore’s office and I’ll Pensieve it for you,” Harry spat in a weird voice. “You can even keep it, along with every other memory I have that involves Terry Boot.”

And finally Draco figured out that he wasn’t the only person Boot had been fucking with.