Life Debt

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Published: June 23, 2021

Harry knew some time had passed, when his wits started to return. He realized that he wasn't lying on the floor, but on something soft. There was a warm blanket covering him, too. His eyes opened, almost daring to believe that he had been saved, but the hope faded. Even without his glasses, he could see the familiar padded bars of his dungeon cell. It smelled the same, too: piss, blood and shit. But there was a figure sitting against the bars across from him.

He curled up, enjoying the faint protection that the red, soft, silky blanket provided him. He hadn't felt so warm and comfortable in months, but this could just be the newest form of torture. He was shaking and barely able to control the panic as the figure came closer. He didn't look at their blurry face, but a hand reached forward and set his glasses down in front of his head. He didn't move.

"Put them on, Potter," a man said, softly.

Harry frowned and remembered the voice from before he drank the potion. He wasn't used to them saying his name. Pet... dog... slave... but never Harry or Potter. In fact, Voldemort said that they shouldn't use it, as they wouldn't want someone to accidentallyf overhear that he was alive. Harry considered this and still didn't move. He didn't want to see and leaned away from his glasses. There was nothing he wanted to see.

"Now," the voice ordered, sterner.

He winced and his hand, his now unbroken hand, inch forward. He stopped to look at it, wondering why it wasn't hurting anymore.

"I healed it. Just put your glasses on, so we can talk, Potter," the man said, gentle, again. There wasn't that aura of cruelty that Harry expected his torturers to have. He seemed... nice... almost concerned.

He grabbed the arm of his frames and slowly put them on. His vision came into focus, and his eyes widened as he took in his visitor. Blonde-haired, pointy-nosed, and had deep grey eyes that were staring at him.

"M-Malfoy?" Harry whispered.

"Glad to see that you haven't lost your wits... or your mind, Potter," he sneered, staring at him.

Harry trembled, feeling more vulnerable than when Fenrir's cock was pounding into him. This was the ultimate win for Malfoy, his childhood rival and the arrogant, loudmouth kid whom Harry had put in his place countless times during their days at school. Harry had always won their battles, and now Malfoy can take his revenge. Maybe he should have let him die in the Room of Requirement. His breath hitched and stuttered a bit. He stared at the stone floor, ready for more abuse.

"Potter, I'm not going to hurt you... well... unless someone breaks through my wards to intrude on my time with you," he said, his voice irritated.

That only made Harry start to panic more. Fenrir, Bellatrix and other Death Eaters were different. Older and stronger, but Malfoy was just like him, an equal but no longer. Tears came out and he was shaking more, clenching the blanket for protection.

"Calm down. I said I wasn't going to hurt you. I healed you, idiot."

Harry met his eyes, again, fear not at all diminished. Malfoy was not looking amused nor angry. But he was hard to read.

"Breathe, Potter. I just want to talk."

Harry scanned the room, not trusting any part of this. They never asked him questions... well, questions that weren't rhetorical. They asked him if he enjoyed what they did to him. They hurt him if he didn't answer correctly or sassed them back. The shaking started back up as he thought about what they did to him.

"Potter? You still with me?" Malfoy asked, almost concerned.

Harry focused on him. "W-Wha-What?