Chapter Text
The only thing Harry wanted to do was pull his hand away as the white ribbon was tied around his wrist, but he didn’t dare move. Too much was riding on his cooperation, no matter how little he wanted to give it. The feeling of fear, of a desperate need to flee, only intensified when the other end of the ribbon was tied around Draco Malfoy’s wrist.
The Malfoy heir looked positively resplendent in his severe black robes, standing tall with his back straight and his chin jutted out in arrogance. He didn’t flinch when Voldemort bound his hand to Harry’s, nor did he look at Harry. It was like he didn’t care at all that they were about to be bound together for the rest of their lives in holy matrimony.
Or whatever passed for it with wizards.
It wasn’t what Harry wanted out of life, but he’d learned very quickly that his wants never mattered. It had been one of the first things he’d learned from the Dursleys, a lesson reinforced during every tired year he spent in his cupboard. He’d thought that maybe things would be different at Hogwarts, and for a while they had been. Then the war had started with Voldemort’s resurrection in Harry’s fourth year, and suddenly what Harry wanted was unimportant.
He’d gone into training, spent hour after hour learning spell after spell, all for a war that he was expected to win as soon as he could. He’d been pulled from Hogwarts and given special instruction by the Ministry. While he did his best to fight, and he did do his best in spite of the fact that he didn’t want to be a weapon, the war had worsened, and so many people had died. Most of Harry’s friends, not that they’d stayed his friends once he’d begun his training, had survived, but that was something of an anomaly.
The fact was that nobody could kill Voldemort, not even Harry, no matter how many times he tried. And he tried, he tried more than anyone could have reasonably expected. And when every attempt that Harry made was met with failure, Voldemort’s power grew just a little bit more. The situation was nightmarish, and Harry’s inability to do his job properly was what led him here, today, doing this thing that he so desperately didn’t want to do.
A ceasefire, between the Light and Dark in the war. The Dark would leave,would take all of their wealth and their prestige and their pureblood selves and go to a previously agreed upon location, along with every supporter they had. Harry didn’t know where it was; Dumbledore had thought it a security risk for Harry to learn anything of his new home. Ties would be severed between the worlds, with immigration to be determined at a later date should the issue arise. And Harry was going with the Dark, as a symbol of their victory and as a way of ensuring that the Light held up their end of the bargain.
Harry tuned out the ceremony. He knew that he was promising things that he’d only ever wanted to promise to someone he loved, and knew that he was honor bound to follow through with those promises as best as he could. He didn’t want to live the rest of his life with someone who hated him, and there was a small part of him that sincerely believed that Malfoy could come to at least be friends with him in the long run.
It was probably little more than a dream, but he clung to it all the same.
The ceremony completed with a flare of magic that left Harry breathless and shook even Malfoy’s unshakable countenance. Then came the even worse part. The consummation.
Harry had assumed that it would be handled the way that Muggles did, and he had been horrified to find out that he was wrong. Sex magic was apparently a thing that purebloods practiced in rituals, and his marriage to Malfoy would be sealed with it. That meant that they would be watched as the marriage was consummated, as Malfoy… had him.
It wasn’t the worst thing in Harry’s life, aside from the fact that he didn’t want it, didn’t love Malfoy, and was almost certain that Malfoy didn’t want him either. Malfoy did his duty, though, and was almost nice about it. His touches were gentle, and stirred a fire within Harry that he’d never felt before and wasn’t sure that he ever wanted to feel again. It was frightening and overwhelming and in the end Harry was glad when it was over because the entire thing had been terrifying. It hadn’t hurt, it had… it might have felt good if Harry had been given any idea of what to expect beforehand.
And if the feelings from the consummation weren’t enough, the bond blooming open between the two of them was even worse. Suddenly Harry could feel things from Malfoy, things that he didn’t have any interest in feeling, like his resentment and the seething hatred inside of him that told Harry there was absolutely no chance of ever befriending Draco Malfoy.
Then, as the dominant partner in their marriage, Malfoy shut off the bond. The sudden loss of the extra emotions, no matter how negative they’d been, left Harry trembling and reeling and dazed as he was roughly grabbed by the waist and Apparated to his new home, wherever it was.
ooOOooOOoo
The new house was spacious, but Harry scarcely had any time to marvel over the size of it before Malfoy was practically dragging him into the gorgeous building. It was massive, easily as large as Hogwarts itself, and Harry found himself tripping along as he tried to take in some of it.
He didn’t get much of a chance as he was escorted to a suite in one of the upper floors (Harry had lost count of the number of flights they’d gone up), towards the back of the house. He was shoved through the doors, but gently so as not to make him trip, and Malfoy followed him through.
“These are your rooms,” Malfoy said, every word cold and clipped. “My parents will be in residence here, and we will entertain guests quite frequently. You are not expected to join us in these efforts, and are, in fact, encouraged to stay away. You have a house elf to attend to your needs. His name is Tally and he will take excellent care of you.”
Harry glanced around the room and swallowed. It was an awfully beautiful room, looked like it belonged more in a museum than anywhere else, and he didn’t know that he wanted to live in it. It was large, airy, and Harry was afraid that he’d ruin one of the lovely pieces of pristinely white furniture if he so much as looked at it oddly.
“Do you have any questions?” Malfoy asked, looking as though he would rather be anywhere but here.
Harry cleared his throat. Maybe… maybe there was a chance that they could make this work. He still wanted a family, after all, so maybe… “Would…” He stopped and took a deep breath, remembering the hatred that had blasted into him in the brief seconds that the bond had been open. “Dinner?” he finally managed to squeak out.
“You’ll take your meals in your rooms, and you are encouraged not to leave your rooms unless you absolutely need to speak to one of us,” Malfoy said, sounding utterly bored. “Tally can find you things to keep you busy. There are books to read, enough that I’m sure you’ll never run out.” Then Malfoy’s lip curled into a sneer. “You might even learn something.”
“I meant-” Harry cut off. What did it matter what he’d meant? Malfoy had made his situation painfully clear in the brief conversation. “Never mind,” Harry said quietly. “Thank you for your time.”
“Let Tally know if you have any questions,” Malfoy said, then turned and left the suite, leaving Harry all alone.
He looked around slowly, wondering if he dared to even touch the couch that looked almost sinfully comfortable. After a moment’s consideration, he decided that he didn’t. Instead, he chose to spend the next few minutes exploring his suite. The sitting room was first, beautiful and terrifying in whites and pale blues, with a large window that, upon further investigation, was actually a door leading out onto a small balcony.
Harry spent several moments out there, breathing in the fresh air and wondering if he could figure out where he was. All he could see, though, was the rushing water close by. They were on a coast, and he had a perfect view of the ocean. At least he was pretty sure that it was the ocean, given how overwhelmingly large it was. It didn’t look like a lake, at least.
He left the balcony behind and headed further into his rooms, finding a study dominated by a large wooden desk and filled to the brim with books. He looked at a few of them, finding several that he would be interested in reading. Malfoy was at least right about that. He could probably spend days just working his way through the books already in his suite, not to mention whatever other books the Malfoys had on hand. Hermione would have been in paradise with access to so many different books, Harry thought. At least, she would have before the war. He wasn’t sure if she’d lost her obsessive thirst for knowledge, given that he hadn’t seen her in person for over three years.
The bedroom was as gorgeous as every other room he’d explored so far, with a bed large enough to fit ten of him comfortably, or so it seemed. It, too, was light and airy and open, with massive windows taking up the far side of the wall that showed him a completely different view. Either they were enchanted or he was in a corner suite. Harry supposed that it didn’t matter, and instead of trying to figure out where he was in the mansion he ran hesitant fingers over the blanket on top of the bed. It was plush and smooth and felt more expensive than anything he’d ever touched in his life. Again, it was far too nice for someone like him, and Harry felt certain that he would ruin it.
There were three doors in the bedroom other than the door he entered through. One led to a walk in closet that was bigger than the Dursley’s old house. It was filled with clothing, all of it of the same quality as his old dress robes from the tournament. There wasn’t a t-shirt or pair of jeans to be found in the entire closet. And none of the clothes were his. He could remember packing his things, but none of them had made their way here.
Harry’s eyes widened in sudden fright as a thought hit him. “Tally!” he called out, before he could stop himself.
A house elf appeared before him, a stern looking little thing that wasn’t at all reminiscent of the elves he’d known in the past. “Master Halfblood calls?” the elf asked, his little lips curling in disdain.
Harry flinched. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “I just… what happened to my things?” To his trunk that had his only pictures of his parents, and the cloak that had been passed down from his father, and all the letters that Sirius had ever sent him, hidden carefully away so as not to be found by anyone else?
Tally’s sneer deepened. “It is in storage,” the house elf said severely. “Clothes were unsuitable, so it stays in storage.”
“Can I have it please?” Harry asked, hoping that he didn’t sound as desperate as he knew that he probably did.
The elf snapped his fingers and the trunk appeared in the walk-in closet. “Master Halfblood’s things are safe,” Tally said shortly. “Does Master Halfblood have anything else to bother Tally with, or is Master Halfblood contented with only wasting five of Tally’s minutes?”
“Thank you, Tally,” Harry said around the sudden lump in his throat.
Tally disappeared with a pop and Harry found himself sitting on the floor of the walk-in closet, his head in his hands and his eyes closed to hold off the tears that wanted to fall. Even the house elves hated him here.
He couldn’t live the rest of his life like this. What was he going to do?
ooOOooOOoo
Dinner that night was painfully awkward. Tally brought him his food, then stared at him while he tried to eat it. The painfully intense gaze would have made it difficult to eat, but even worse was the fact that Harry had never tried the food given to him. It was strange, and tasted very different, and he wasn’t sure if he liked it.
Still, he didn’t doubt that this place was like the Dursleys. If he didn’t eat what was given to him, he knew that he wouldn’t get another meal. So he tried to eat the oddly spiced chicken and noodles, and was grateful to have milk to wash it down with. It was far too spicy for him. He’d never in his life eaten anything like it. The Dursleys didn’t like foreign food, and even if they had, they never would have fed it to Harry. And it wasn’t served at Hogwarts, either.
Harry managed to eat about half of it before his milk was finished and his mouth was still burning. “Could I… have more milk?” he asked tentatively. “Or some bread?” His stomach was still growling, after all, his body not content with the meager portion of the meal that he’d eaten.
“Master Halfblood isn’t satisfied with anything, is he?” Tally sneered. The elf disappeared, and then reappeared with a single slice of plain bread. He also had a glass of water, which he handed to Harry.
Harry took small sips of the water in between bites of food, but it did nothing to help the fire on his tongue. The bread helped, but that was gone very quickly, in spite of the small bites of it that he took. Harry didn’t bother to ask for another piece. “I’m finished,” he said quietly to the elf, even though his stomach was still rumbling in discontent.
The elf just sneered at him. “Wasteful,” he sighed, and clicked his tongue at Harry. “Master Halfblood wouldn’t want dessert then, would he? Since he cannot finish his meal.” There was something ugly in his expression, something that said that he knew exactly why Harry couldn’t eat it.
Dessert sounded nice, but… Harry wasn’t going to engage in an argument with a house elf. “No, thank you,” he said, pretending like he’d been asked.
Tally didn’t respond, but instead popped away, leaving Harry alone once more.
Harry sighed and lowered his head to rest on his arms. This was terrible, and it was only the first day. How could he live the rest of his life like this? What if… what if he didn’t? His eyes darted to the balcony, which was unsecured. If he could just make it out…
No. What would that do to the ceasefire? If he escaped, would it ruin everyone else’s chance for a good life? He couldn’t do that to anyone.
Harry stood slowly, feeling far older than he actually was. He took a quick shower, ignoring the massive bathtub with all of its faucets for soaps and perfumes and the like. He dried off, then slipped into a pair of pajamas from the massive closet. They were soft and warm and comfortable. Harry was almost frightened to wonder at how much they might have cost.
The bed was cold and lonely when he slid into it, but Harry still closed his eyes and tried to sleep. It wasn’t like he’d ever shared a bed with anyone, anyway, so he shouldn’t feel too uncomfortable. But he did. He couldn’t… he couldn’t seem to drift off.
Maybe it was because the room was so empty? He was the only one there, after all. That hadn’t been the case in years. Sure, when he’d spent his summers with the Dursleys he’d slept alone, but that hadn’t been for a long time. In Hogwarts, he’d been in the dorms and there had always been other people around. Then, after Hogwarts, during the worst of the war, Harry had slept in rooms with other Order members when he was lucky enough to sleep at all.
That had to be the problem. But what could Harry do about that? It wasn’t like he had any friends that could come over and visit with him, and he couldn’t imagine Malfoy wanting to be near him. Tally would laugh at him if he asked the tiny little elf to keep him company, so…
So maybe the solution was to move someplace smaller. He gathered the comforter and several of the pillows that littered the massive bed and moved in the direction of the closet. Yes, it was still massive for a closet, but it was smaller than Harry’s bedroom. He set himself up on the farthest side from the entrance, hidden beneath some long robes. It was smaller, more intimate, and Harry found himself relaxing at the perception of safety.
Of course he wasn’t any safer here than he was on the bed, but it felt like he was. Harry closed his eyes and finally managed to drift off to sleep.
ooOOooOOoo
Tally hated his nest and dismantled it every morning, but that was okay, because Harry hated Tally. The elf was deliberately antagonistic and cruel to Harry, and Harry was tired of it. So he grew more antagonistic with the elf, became cruel in a way he’d never thought possible.
He supposed the extended isolation was getting to him.
It had been a month since the bonding ceremony, and the only person Harry spoke to was Tally, who hated Harry very much.
It didn’t help that this particular morning the sight of his breakfast was making him nauseous. The eggs were cooked perfectly, just the way he liked them, and the sausage was so hot that it was still sizzling ever so slightly. The toast was beautifully buttered, but Harry couldn’t stand the sight of any of it.
He gagged. “Take it away,” he begged, and shoved at the plate.
“Master Halfblood doesn’t want his favorite breakfast?” Tally asked, sneering. “Now Master Halfblood is just deliberately wasting Master’s hard-earned money. Master Halfblood is squandering Master’s wealth,” the elf lamented. “Would Master Halfblood like some Galleons to toss into the ocean, perhaps?”
Harry snapped. “You know what? Yes. I absolutely would. Give me some Galleons and I will go throw them in the ocean right now,” he snarled.
The elf’s head jerked back as though he’d been slapped. “Master Halfblood is… joking?” the elf tried.
“No,” Harry said. He shook his head and shoved the plate further away from himself so that the smell of the food would hopefully stop making him feel queasy. “No, Master Halfblood is not joking. You made the offer, so get me some Galleons that I can throw over the damn balcony!”
“Tally does not have access to Galleons,” the elf said primly. “Tally was being facetious, a fact which a more intelligent Master Halfblood would have known.”
“Then take this damned plate and get it out of my face,” Harry snarled.
When the elf just blinked at him, Harry lost what was left of his temper. He picked up the plate, still full of food, and flung it at the elf’s head. He missed, but only because the plate was heavy and he hadn’t actually expected it to be. The plate shattered upon impacting the ground, and ceramic shards exploded everywhere, along with bits of food.
Harry sat in his seat, panting, as the rest of his rage drained away like it had never been. He stared at the mess he’d made and tears suddenly sprang to his eyes. The elf was right. He was wasteful, shamefully so. All that good food, and he’d just thrown it away. Literally. What had he been thinking? Who knew when his next meal would be? Surely Tally would retaliate.
But the elf did no such thing. He snapped his tiny little fingers and the mess disappeared. The elf stared at Harry for several long seconds, then he was gone as well.
Harry closed his eyes and let his head fall into his hands. What was wrong with him? He knew better than that. He knew better than to anger the person responsible for taking care of him. Hadn’t his time with the Dursleys taught him better than that, anyway?
The tears came, and Harry didn’t fight them. He’d really messed up.
ooOOooOOoo
“Master Halfblood will eat!” Tally was screaming. It was three months later, and things had gone from bad to worse. Harry had wrecked many, many more plates, shattered them when Tally didn’t get rid of them fast enough.
Harry’s head pounded and the world spun dizzily around him. His stomach churned at the thought of eating what was in front of him. “I won’t,” he snarled. “I can’t!” He didn’t know why his stomach felt the way it did, but the thought of eating the greasy, fatty meat in front of him was making it even worse.
“Master Halfblood will eat or Tally will have to involve Master!” The elf sounded bitterly angry about that idea. “Tally has never met someone so ridiculous as Master Halfblood.”
“My name is Harry, you stupid, wretched creature!” Harry screamed back at the elf. He stood up, shoving away from the table. He staggered as the world tilted around him, but managed to stay on his feet. “You do whatever you want; I can’t eat that!”
He’d tried to force himself to eat a meal like this once, the first meal he’d been served after his first broken plate, and Harry had bitterly regretted it as he’d thrown up over the toilet. He was never going to make that same mistake again. So he left the dining area, stumbling more than walking, just barely staying on his feet. He couldn’t have said why, but lately his balance had been off as well.
He managed to keep to his feet, though, and made it to his nest in the closet. He’d never adjusted to the bed, though he’d tried several times. It was too big, too lonely. At least the closet felt small and safe, and Tally had finally given up on ever winning that battle, so his nest was now fully intact all the time.
He curled up and closed his eyes and breathed in, trying to relax. He was so tired; he hadn’t been sleeping well lately. It probably had something to do with the fact that he hadn’t been eating well, either. But resting helped, so Harry kept his eyes closed and breathed slow, deep breaths, and hoped that he would feel better in time for lunch.
He couldn’t have said how long had passed when he heard a voice outside of his closet. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” The incredulous voice belonged to Malfoy.
Harry flinched and sat up, scrambling back as far as he could. Tally had told. Tally really had told on him. Harry didn’t know why, maybe because the elf had threatened it before and had never actually done it, but he’d never expected it.
“Tally said that Master Halflbood likes to sleep in the closet,” the elf said, probably repeating what he’d said before Harry had started paying attention.
“First of all, Tally should be using his name,” Malfoy said dryly as Harry heard the closet door open. “And he is aware of that. Secondly, Tally should most assuredly not be allowing Harry to sleep in a bloody closet when he has a perfectly good bed to use.”
“Tally tried!” the elf snapped. “Master Half… Master Harry is the most difficult human Tally has ever served!”
“And I’m sure that none of that has anything to do with the fact that you’ve been calling him Master Halfblood, right?” Malfoy asked. He sounded almost amused. “Get out, Tally, and make yourself useful. I’ll assign another elf to Harry.”
Harry peeked through the robes to find Malfoy standing at the entrance to the closet, obviously looking for him. Harry immediately scooted back as far as he could, but the motion was apparently enough to attract Malfoy’s attention. Only seconds later, Malfoy had pulled the robes out of the way and was staring down at Harry, eyebrows raised.
“What are you doing, Po… Harry?” the Malfoy heir asked, sounding utterly exasperated.
“I was sleeping,” Harry said, his voice hoarser than he’d expected it to be. “You woke me, arguing with my elf.”
“You know that isn’t what I meant.” Malfoy looked around, grimaced, then settled on the floor across from Harry. “You aren’t eating, and Tally says that you’ve been sleeping in the closet?”
Harry looked down. “Don’t act like you care,” he said. “I’m aware of my position here. You just need me to stay alive and in relatively good health. Where I sleep and skipping a few meals won’t impact the Dark’s position.”
“Have you even looked in a mirror lately?” Malfoy asked, incredulous. “Please, Harry, you’re like a skeleton. You have bruises under your eyes instead of just shadows. Are you ill?”
Harry shrugged. “Does it matter? It’s probably not going to kill me.”
Malfoy reached out and touched Harry, using a hand to gently raise Harry’s chin. Or at least, that had probably been his intention. As it was, he jerked his hand back seconds after the contact occurred. Harry shuddered with the loss, because for a second he’d almost not felt ill.
“Po… Harry, are you a carrier?” Malfoy asked, his voice going oddly urgent.
Harry just stared blankly at him. “Carrier for what?” he asked, confused. He didn’t think he carried any diseases, but that would explain why he felt so ill, right?
“Carrier for… you don’t know.” Malfoy laughed, the sound strained. “Right. Because why would anybody have ever tested Harry Bloody Potter for something like that.” He shook his head. “You need to see a Healer. Immediately.”
He stood, then, and extended a hand to Harry. Harry looked at it, then deliberately ignored it as he got to his feet. He wished he hadn’t, then, as the world spun around him and everything went black.