(HP) Corruption series

Corruption

Harry opened his eyes slowly and could not stifle the groan that made its way out of his tormented body as the light in the room stabbed at his retinas. He hurt from head to toe; not one part of his body was free from pain; even his teeth hurt. However, at least this meant he was alive, which was something he had not expected at all.

"Potter?" a familiar, yet rather worried voice made it into his consciousness.

"Malfoy?" he replied in confusion.

His inter-house rival had failed to return to school at the beginning of their seventh year three months ago; Harry had not expected to come into contact with him again except on a battle field. Of course as far as Harry knew, he'd been given over to Malfoy to play with; it was the kind of thing the DeathEaters seemed to think was funny.

"Good, you're still your annoying self," Malfoy didn't sound so worried this time, "at least for now."

Harry was very confused; he was pretty sure he should be dead and yet he was somewhere having, what was for them, a polite conversation with Draco Malfoy. He blinked a few times and was rather surprised when his surroundings came into focus; there was definitely something odd about that, but his tired brain could only cope with so many thoughts and he was more interested in where he was and what was going on.

The last thing he remembered clearly was coming out of Honeydukes: there had been an explosion and then everything was a haze of images and sensations; most of them unpleasant. He'd been captured by Death Eaters; that much he knew, and he'd been dragged before Voldemort, but he had not been killed.

It had shocked him at the time, he remembered that much, and then he recalled some sort of ceremony, but they had made him drink something and it caused any memories to be horribly distorted.

"Where am I?" he asked as he realised that his surroundings were actually quite pleasant.

"My bedroom at home," Malfoy replied and suddenly came into Harry's field of vision.

His school rival had changed somewhat; longer hair, less of an obvious attitude, and Malfoy was only wearing a pair of trousers, which really should have sent unsettling thoughts through Harry, but instead caused rather peculiar sensations to run the length of his body.

"Before you ask," Malfoy said shortly, "your being here has nothing to do with me and I'm as much of a prisoner as you are."

It was difficult to gain any proper feel for his surrounding looking at everything sideways, so Harry decided to try and sit up. It was not the wisest idea he had ever come up with. Every cell in his body screamed at him and he only managed to move a few inches before he fell back gasping.

"Lie still," the surprisingly gentle tone from Malfoy shocked him, but not as much as when a cool cloth was placed on his forehead; "they've been working on you for two days and you're in quite a state."

That he was not in perfect health was quite obvious to Harry, but that fact brought with it the burning question, which had been bothering him since he realised it, to the front of his mind again.

"Why am I still alive?" he asked with honest confusion.

Malfoy did not reply, but Harry felt the blanket on top of him being gently rearranged. His companion was avoiding his eyes and he reached out and took hold of Malfoy's wrist, demanding attention. The expression in his rival's eyes as grey irises finally met his gaze rather shocked him; he saw sympathy and anger.

"Because death is too good for those who defy the Dark Lord," Malfoy said quietly; "he wants you to suffer."

For a moment they remained staring at each other as Harry let the reality sink in. This was not the Malfoy he knew; the spiteful child was almost gone completely and Harry realised that possibly the Slytherin had finally grown up.