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From: "frulie@gmail.com" <frulie@gmail.com>
To: <sleepyxin@yahoo.com>
Sent: Mon, October 19, 2009 6:53:45 PM
Subject: Re: Please allow me to repost your stories
Sure. That is fine. :)
Dacro |
原文地址：http://dacro.livejournal.com/81176.html
Title: Missing
Pairing: H/D
Rated: PG-13
Warning: Kidnapping, non consent-ish. (you'll see)
I know how she likes the Darkfics, so I tried to write one, but it still manages to be sweetly evil.
Harry had been missing for two years.
Of course one of the first places Granger's team had searched was Malfoy Manor, seemed almost inevitable that they would come, although their timing was a surprise.
Lucius and Draco still smile about it today. It was brilliant. He was right under their noses the whole time, or feet, rather.
Harry lay in front of the sitting room bookcase, bound, drugged, cloaked, and invisibly unconscious only a pace or two from where the Ministry officials and Aurrors stood. There would have been trouble with Moody's magical eye, but thankfully, he had stopped breathing a few years before. A few hiding charms were used as a precaution, naturally, but they were really not necessary.
Oh yes, they still smile, remembering how the dungeons, narrow passageways, and even the servant's quarters were searched, fruitlessly. They decided the Ministry was certainly getting what they were paying for.
It was perfect, really. The war was over, the whelp had triumphed, and had brilliantly lost his mind in the final wand-wrestle for victory. Draco had needed a toy to fix, and Harry was beautifully broken.
He wasn't really a prisoner at the Manor, except for being wand-less and warded in a room with no freedom to come and go as he chose. Draco liked to think of it as a private habitat. A comfortable place to keep and view his pet project, away from everyone, except his father. This secret joy, they shared exclusively. House elves knew of his presence, but Draco took full responsibility for the care and upkeep of his prize possession. He lived for it.
It was almost as if he had been some sort of gift to Draco from the heavens, when he wandered from the Burrow, mounted his broom, and flew until he collided with Lucius' bedroom window. At first, Lucius was of the mind that a 'good Potter is a dead Potter', but as they looked closer, Draco holding back his father's wand, they noticed very un-Potter-like qualities that required further study.
He was bleeding, that was to be expected from such a fall, but he was also smiling.
Very Odd.
He reached out to Draco and Lucius as if he was being reunited with the long ago dead family in his empty head. Draco wished now, that he could have saved that expression on Lucius' face, when the bloodied imp leapt into his arms, broken limbs only hindering him slightly.
Lucius was the first to notice that Harry wasn't able to speak, but Draco was first to mention the strange absence of a wand. It was only a few hours after the fall of the Dark Lord, and they had both watched the battle, from afar, but this didn't seem to be the same Potter.
A few days later, over several glasses of brandy, they had decided that the Weasleys or perhaps Granger had scooped him away so quickly after his victory, that no one would have noticed that there was any damage at all. Everyone looked as if they could collapse at any moment, so a crumpled Potter didn't look any different from a wounded 'anyone else', really.
But there was damage. Oh yes, quite a bit.
When they had cast the healing charms, and easily given him a sleeping draught, Lucius and Draco sat down to hypothesize about how Harry had become the jelly-brained inhabitant of one of their most elaborate guests rooms, the one with the large bath. To this day, no one really knows what happened for sure, except Harry and the demised Dark Lord, and neither one has been much help thus far.
Everyone with a wand was throwing curses like snowballs, making the noise unbearable. Someone hit Harry with something nasty, after he brilliantly brought down the Master with Granger's wand.
The ministry confiscated the wands of the few Death Eaters they had managed to catch, performing recall spells to make lists of the last curse to leave each wand, but they had no idea how to narrow it down. The reporters left the scene with assurances that their hero was fine, and was most likely a victim of friendly fire, a Petrificus at worst.
Bless their nobby heads. They had no idea.
The search started the next morning when Potter went missing from the makeshift Hospital that was hurriedly set up in the Weasley's front room.
Lucius insisted that Harry be kept drugged enough so he wouldn't wake up while they determined his fate. Lucius had thought of returning him for a reward, but doubted the Ministry would think it was anything less than a kidnapping. Running with that thought, he then suggested ransoming, or better yet, auctioning Harry off to the highest bidding Death Eater.
Draco had slightly different plans.
True, he had always thought of Harry as quite attractive. If he were really being honest with himself, he'd have to say that Potter was extremely easy on the eyes, but with a sandpaper personality that had always rubbed him the wrong way. He thought it would be a shame if he couldn't play with the nice body, now that the annoying Gryffindor bits were gone.
After all, Harry wasn't a vegetable. He could move about, dress and feed himself, although Draco was happy enough to do those things for him. Harry was like a small child in a man's body, without the bothersome tantrums, and the talking back. Perfectly behaved, with no fire remaining.
Lucius convinced himself that Draco's desire to 'keep' Harry all stemmed from never allowing him the dog he always asked for as a child. Better late than never. Besides, this 'dog' would be a rather nice trophy, and smelled considerably better. He saw something odd in the way Draco stared hungrily at this new addition, addiction, but had to admit that Potter 'was' rather fetching, even with the new blankness behind his green eyes.
Weasley, the one who had been Potter's childhood mate, showed up at the front door about a week after the search of the Manor. Flanked by several copper-haired siblings, and a Ministry official or two. He begged for Harry's release, as if knowing he was there. Lucius had to control his laughter, but still managed to look sufficiently frightening as he slammed the door in their startled faces. Upstairs Draco brushed a mop of black hair, counting after every stroke to one hundred, then started over.
That was Draco's favourite part. He would spend hours with Harry, prattling on about every little thing, and Harry listened. He listened and smiled. Often he would curl up, head in Draco's lap, as the wooden brush and flawless long fingers ran through his hair. Harry would silently trace patterns on Draco's knee with one finger, while listening to Draco tell him how beautiful they both were.
Lucius has become used to Draco's obsession, but still often watches in awe through the wards on the open bedroom door. His son has changed.
It's been two years since Draco slept in his own bed.
The first night alone with Harry, Draco wondered why such a gift would fly into his father's window. Why would Harry allow himself to relax in Draco's arms, slowly undressed by a virtual stranger, and stand silent while being washed by a pure-blooded tongue?
He didn't search too far for the answers. He really didn't care about truth after that night.
He wondered if he would be the one driven mad when his affections were barely noticed. Harry would do as he was told, kiss splendidly when commanded, and follow directions flawlessly, as if baking a cake. But all the Gryffindor impulsiveness, and sexy seeker reflexes were lost. Draco could work around all that, but he ached for Harry to respond of his own free will, or say his name, even once.
Glorious, tainted gift.
One year after the fall of the Dark Lord, the Wizarding world debated about whether it was appropriate to celebrate the anniversary of that victory, while still pining away for their champion. The Prophet compromised, by calling it a Day of Reflective Celebration.
Lucius remembers reading the headline, while watching Draco bathe their now familiar house guest. Starting shortly after the Weasley 'visit', they had instituted this new family ritual. Every morning, Draco would fill the bath with scented water and the green bubbles Harry seemed to like, although it was hard to tell. Both would bathe while Lucius watched over them, reading the news of the day, or one of their many books.
Lucius was close to anger the first time he had walked in, searching for Draco, only to be greeted by the sight of his son in a foamy bath, slowly washing Potter, pressed against him, eyes closed. He stood there silently, watching Draco plant tender kisses around damp hair and soapy cheeks, wrapping his legs around the unworthy half breed. At the same time, Lucius had to admit a stunning vision when he was blessed enough to witness one. He joined them from that day on, watching over them both.
It didn't really surprise Draco when no one from the Muggle world came looking for Harry. After a year and a half, most of the Wizarding world had moved on. Yes, most thought him long dead by now, although most of his friends kept looking, pathetically vowing to never rest until his body was found. Draco laughed out loud when Lucius read the Prophet's theory about how Harry had fulfilled what he had come to accomplish, and was now on his way to fight for other victims of oppression.
People will believe anything you tell them.
Late at night, when Harry's naked form is obediently wrapped around him, Draco still asks himself this question. Would a life on display in St. Mungo's be worthy of all that Harry used to be? He imagines Granger or perhaps even Lupin would have volunteered to care for him, but they would always be searching for glimpses of who he was. They wouldn't understand who he is now. Yes, this was the proper place for him.
Draco was starting to understand why Harry's friends still searched, although he was mostly content with this vacant, pretty version of his former enemy.
On the two year anniversary of the Day of Reflective Celebration, the search was officially called off. Harry played with the shiny silver ring on his left hand, while Draco brushed the dark hair, counted to one hundred, and started over again.
END
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发表于 2009-10-21 00:09
