Through his Mind's Eye 2

Draco tried to wriggle out of Thorfinn’s grip, but Thorfinn pulled his right arm behind his back, elbow bowed, painfully stretching the arm, the shoulder. Thorfinn’s free hand seemed to roam his body everywhere at once. He pinched a nipple, fondled his balls... Draco hated every bit of it, tried to get away, despite the pain in his shoulder. Thorfinn’s hand closed around his cock, squeezing slightly. Draco stopped moving, afraid Thorfinn would grip him harder. That would be really painful.

For a moment Draco looked up. He saw Yaxley and Wormtail, watching with rapt fascination. Surely they were already waiting eager for their turn...

Draco looked aside and saw his father standing there. It was the first time in his life Draco saw him crying.

Draco quickly lowered his eyes in embarrassment. Thorfinn was still pumping his shaft. With shame Draco remembered how aunt Bellatrix had made him harden... It was happening again. In a desperate attempt to break free, Draco thrashed out with his free hand, hitting Thorfinn squarely on the forehead.

Thorfinn let go of both his right arm and his cock for a moment, and Draco tried to crawl away. But Thorfinn quickly got him, performed a headlock. His head jammed under Thorfinn’s armpit, Draco noticed with alarm that his backside and buttocks were freely on display.

Wham! A stinging, burning pain as Thorfinn hit his buttocks with the palm of his hand. Wham! Wham! Draco couldn’t help but cry out each time his buttocks were hit, each time stinging, burning pain spread through his bottom. It was years ago that Dad last had spanked him, and he had never hit him with such a force.

Finally the spanking stopped and he was released. Draco didn’t dare to object when Thorfinn positioned him on all fours on the floor. Resting his head on his hands, he obediently raised his burning arse. He felt Thorfinn’s cock press against his opening then he slowly pushed in...


Draco awoke with a small scream. Panicking he looked around... Hogwarts... He was repeating the year... as was Potter...

Potter! He had brought back the memories! No, he had not really... It had started getting harder and harder to keep them at bay long before Potter had told him that he had seen everything.

Draco shuddered, trying to force back the memories... But they just came back... After Thorfinn he had just raised his bum like a whore, letting Yaxley, Dolohov and Wormtail fuck him. It hurt less that way. Macnair and Yaxley had then asked Voldemort whether they were allowed a second round, which was granted. Fortunately only to them. Macnair had fucked his mouth while Yaxley had taken him from behind. Draco had almost passed out from the double assault.

With an unwilling grunt Draco stood up and went through the dark dormitory to the bathroom. None of his roommates were awake, fortunately.

Draco slipped out of his pajamas and stepped under the shower. With closed eyes he let the hot water cleanse his skin.


Weeks later

Draco enjoyed the shower after Quidditch practice. He had become seeker of the Slytherin team, as always. The hot water ran down his skin, cleaning away all the sweat and dirt. The talk of the other boys only halfway reached his ears. They were boasting about their adventures with girls.

“And then I shoved my cock down her throat and said: ‚Suck it, bitch!’“ Alexander Brandybock roared.

Draco froze. Suck it, bitch... That was what Macnair had said to him, at the end, when he’d fucked his mouth.

Draco stumbled back, his breath catching in his throat. Macnair had grabbed his hair while his cock moved in his throat, gagging him. While he was still afraid that he might stifle on the thing in his throat, he had been grabbed by the hips and another hard cock had driven in...

“Malfoy, what’s up?“ Brandybock asked.

“Feel sick...“ Draco mumbled and hastily left the showers. He stumbled through the changing room, outside into the snow and retched.

Slowly he raised up, when his stomach was emptied. The snow quickly turned to small water drops on his naked skin. It couldn’t go on like that.


He was intent of getting drunk. Sitting alone at a table in the Hog’s Head one saturday evening, Draco stared into his second glas of scotch.

The door opened. Draco looked up: Potter and his friends. They were greeted by all the other customers like the war heroes they were, people were fighting over who might buy them their first round of drink. Draco shrugged and raised his glass of scotch. The flames of the fireplace were mirrowed in the fluid, it looked like gems or liquid gold... Draco took another sip. And another.

His glass was almost empty, maybe he should get himself a new one... But then suddenly someone put a bluish cocktail in front of him, and another one next to it.

Draco looked up. Harry Potter sat down on the seat opposite of him. What...

“Hi Draco,“ he said, “how are you?“

“Fine,“ Draco lied. Judging from Potter’s raised eyebrows it was clear to him that it was a lie.

Potter drew his wand and said “Muffliato“. At Draco’s questioning look he said. “No one’s gonna hear us now.“

“Great,“ Draco snarled sarcastically.

Potter looked earnestly at him. “You look worse each day.“

“Thanks,“ Draco replied. “It’s your stupid questions! They bring back all the memories...“

“You believe it’s because of me?“ Harry Potter said.

Draco shook his head. “No,“ he said. “’Though I’d like to blame you.“ Carefully he looked at the proffered glass. “What’s this?“

“Aberforth’s specialty,“ Harry said, taking a sip of his own drink. “He calls it Ariana’s dream.“

Draco took a sip. Tasted of cream, rum and butterbeer. There was a question that had been nagging at him all along: “How much did you see?“ he asked.

“I woke up when it was Thorfinn’s turn.“ Potter said.

Good, so he had not seen how he had raised his bum for the rest of them... He shivered slightly at the memory.

Potter looked at him worriedly, but didn’t say a word, so Draco asked: “And you’ve seen it all through the Dark Lord’s eyes?“

Potter nodded his head. “Seen what he saw, felt what he felt... it was quite horrible.“

“Why?“ Draco asked.

“Because he was such a sick fuck,“ Harry answered. “Taking delight in your torture, the crueller the better... And all this only because you were not able to cast an Unforgiveable...“

“I was the next time he ordered me to,“ Draco replied. “He told me to use the Cruciatus on Yaxley and Dolohov because of some mistakes they’d made... Weird, but I didn’t enjoy it a bit. Even though they both had raped me, Yaxley even twice.“

Harry’s eyes widened. “Twice?“

Draco closed his eyes, trying to fight back the memories, but they kept pushing. “Yaxley and Macnair asked for a second round,“ he pressed out.

Draco felt a touch on his arm. He flinched, opening his eyes wide.

“Sorry,“ Potter said, pulling back his hand as if burnt.

Draco raised his glass to take another gulp of the cocktail. His hand was shaking, so that he almost spilled it. Angrily he put the glass to his lips and almost emptied it to the bottom. Potter was staring at him wide-eyed.

“I think your friends are waiting for you,“ Draco said pointedly.

Harry looked at him scrutinisingly for a moment, then raised and walked back to their table.

So finally he got rid of the stupid Gryffindor. For now.


Christmas came as it always did. Draco was not particularly looking forward to it. Sitting in the Hogwarts Express, he stared out of the window, ignoring the other Slytherins who were sharing his compartment. They ignored him as well, acting as if he wasn’t there.

It was a long ride, but finally they reached platform nine and three quarters. Draco stepped out of the train, levitating his trunk behind him. He scanned the platform... there, his father was waiting over there, wearing an elegant tailcoat, his hair flowing freely down his back. Slowly Draco approached him. “Draco,“ his father nodded at him, “good to see you.“

Draco nodded back, shook the extended hand, then followed his father to their carriage. The driver heaved his trunk inside, then Draco and his father sat down. Shortly afterwards the carriage started driving.

“So, how is your last school year so far?“ his father asked lightly. “You didn’t send us any letters like you used to.“

Draco shrugged. “A bit lonesome.“ What had made him say that?

His father nodded. “Yes, I can imagine you feel alone now that Crabbe and Goyle have left school.“

Left school he called it? “Crabbe is dead,“ Draco said, “and Goyle is in Azkaban.“

Lucius’s jaw hardened and he looked out of the window. Completely ignoring what he had just said, he asked: “How is your new DADA teacher?“


They held polite smalltalk during the drive home. Nothing too serious, not once they mentioned the war. Finally they reached the gates of Malfoy Manor. Draco felt like a heavy weight was lying in his stomach. The last year, when Voldemort had made Malfoy Manor to his head quarters, had been so horrible... Draco stepped out of the carriage, swallowing. His mother was standing at the door, smiling brightly.

Forgetting all manners, Draco run up the stairs to hug her tight. She let it happen, but only lightly patted his back. “Now, Draco, come in, it’s cold.“

Draco followed her into the entrance hall and stopped dead. It all looked... different.

There was loads of new furniture, a new couch, a new cabinet... all refurbished.

Narcissa laughed affectionately. “Do you like it? I did a bit of redecorating, you know, I was so fed up with all the old stuff... I thought it was time for something new.“

When Draco followed her through the hallway he cast glances into the rooms. She had redecorated everything.

Draco cleared his throat. Narcissa looked at him questioningly. “Is it because you didn’t want to be reminded on HIS reign here?“ he asked.

Her face grew cold. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.“


Draco had never before felt so awkward at home. Narcissa probably had refurbished the house not to be reminded on Voldemort anymore, but somehow it just made it impossible for Draco to forget what she was denying. His parents behaved as if Voldemort never even existed, not once mentioning any event of the past year.

When Draco said that he regretted that Snape, his favourite professor at Hogwarts, was dead, they quickly changed the topic. As they did any time Draco talked about anything even remotely connected to Voldemort.

So he spent most of the time in his room. Draco felt sheltered there, he had even when the Death Eaters had been here. Even after the rape, because here it was where his father and Severus had brought him for revalescence.

Yet even his room seemed stifling at times, large and luxurious as it was. One morning, while he was in the bathroom, he found a way to get rid on some of the pressure weighing on him.

He was shaving, and his thoughts wandered... Aunt Andromeda had asked them whether they’d visit for her birthday this summer. She was one of Narcissa’s sisters, Draco had not seen her in years. The other one of course... His hand started trembling.

Dammit! There, a small cut on his jaw.

Sighing Draco wiped away the remaining lather. The cut was just small, it would stop bleeding soon. Draco put away the razor. His gaze fell on the other blades in the small box where he kept them. Draco took one into his hand. It was sharp and shining.

Without really thinking, he touched the razorblade to his arm and pressed. Blood came out in little red drops. Draco felt strangely calm and relieved when he watched them flowing down his arm.

He left the bloodied razor blade lying on the marble bassin. The houseelves would take care of it.

Two days and he would return to school.


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