Draco Malfoy, Broken

***TRIGGER WARNING*** - for child abuse.

15 - The Game

They returned to the flat around 7. Draco had found a few pairs of trousers and half a dozen shirts that he grudgingly admitted that he looked good in them. It had taken awhile, much to Potter's annoyance, for him to find matching outfits that he deem acceptable. Potter picked out some clothes for himself without trying them on. He had had a good laugh, too, when Draco had asked where the seamstress was to alter the clothes. Apparently, muggle shops did not have them.

Potter stayed just long enough to cook and eat dinner with his mom and left. His departure had made him feel uneasy. Despite having a great time wandering around muggle London, Draco couldn't help but feel that Potter was there just to watch him because his mother had asked. That he was only there out of obligation. It hurt a little. It was hard to tell if they were friends or if Potter was just desperate for company. As he was.

He scrubbed the dishes for over an hour and took another long shower, before climbing into bed. He wasn't going to get lucky two nights in a row having a relatively calm night.

Draco stood in front of a mirror. He had on dress robes with an extremely high collar wrapped around his neck that was restricting his airflow. His father tightened it more.

"Father," he whispered. "It's too tight."

Lucius Malfoy turned his son around and slapped him. "You will not complain! You are a Malfoy. You are expected to wear the best, be the best and not complain about it!"

"Yes father," he said, shamed.

"If you embarrass me in the slightest... there will be hell to pay."

"I won't..." he started and Lucius hit him, again.

"Do you want me to put it on you, again?" Lucius growled.

Draco shook his head. He hated feeling not in control and the Imperious Curse stripped him of his willpower. "Please don't. I'll do everything...."

"You'd better or a tight collar will be the least of your worries."

Draco lowered his eyes. His father smacked him again. "Keep your eyes up! Do not slouch!"

Draco trembled, uneasily. "Yes, sir."

He straightened his shoulders and lifted his head high like when his father had beat proper mannerisms in him as a child.

"Pathetic." His father turned and walked away.

Draco turned to see Potter watching... like he had seen the whole thing, but did nothing. He hated the feeling. He could feel his indifference. It stung more than the slaps did.

"Harry..." he started, as though begging for a rescue. His father was coming back.

It was after the party, now. He had made the mistake of mentioning that he was second in his class, much to his father's annoyance. Malfoys weren't second, especially to Granger. His father was beyond angry. He backed into the wall and again looked at Harry to help him. He watched. His cold green eyes never leaving him, watching him in eager anticipation.

"Strip boy. You want to embarrass me? Fine! Take off everything. Everything but the collar."

"Dad... please... I'm sorry... I didn't think...."

"Shut up and do it!"

Draco took off his clothes slowly. His father watched him with distaste. He left the detachable collar on. His father stared unflinchingly at him and mocked him. He tried to cover himself with his hands and his father smacked his hands away. He never felt more embarrassed. Potter watched too, the faintest smirk on his face, as though laughing at Draco's helplessness.

"Turn around!"

"Dad..." he started, but Lucius whacked him good with his cane across the stomach. He turned, letting his father have full access to his back.

Lucius shoved him hard into the wall and he braced himself against it, ready for the onslaught of pain. Lucius spread his legs apart, letting everything dangle. He was completely open and it terrified him. His father grabbed the collar and stitched it tighter.

"No... don't..." he pleaded, but a sharp whack between his legs made him quiet.

"Don't you dare complain! You embarrassed the family today. You deserve this. Say it!"

"I deserve this," he mumbled, his voice restricted by the collar that was choking him.

Potter chuckled approvingly. He turned his head toward the wall and waited for the cane. Lucius showed no mercy. The cane hit him across the back, shoulders and his butt brutally. He had to fight to cry out in pain. The collar was suffocating him. His vision faded and he blacked out, both from pain and lack of air. Of course, that hadn't stopped his father. It wasn't as bad as when he had first come home from his first year, even his second year. His father had been irate that he had stayed at Hogwarts at Christmas just to avoid him. He couldn't walk for a week after that.

He laid on the floor, pain remnants lashing through his body. Potter was hovering over him. He shrunk away, bringing his arms to his chest that wasn't bare anymore. There was light coming in the room, but he couldn't focus on anything but the floor. Eye contact wasn't allowed.

"Draco..." Potter's voice called to him, but he trembled more and wouldn't look at him.

The panic was building, like the collar was still wrapped around his throat. He couldn't breathe. Tears filled his eyes. Potter sat down next to him and put his arms around him. Draco didn't fight him as Potter pulled him toward him and up against his body. Potter's arms wrapping tightly around his chest and Draco's head rested on his shoulder.

"You're dreaming Draco. It's just a dream. Come back to me," Potter whispered in his ear, behind him.

Draco's quick, short breaths slowed. From his viewpoint, he could see he was in his mother's flat, not back at the Manor. Potter's tightened his grip.

"There you go, breathe. I'm right here, Malfoy," Potter said, quietly.

He did. Matching his breathing to Potter's. In and out slowly. He got his breathing under control, but he couldn't stop shaking. He couldn't lose the feeling he had from his dream, of Potter watching him be shamed and beaten by his father and laughing at him. It hurt him more than his father's brutal treatment.

"You want to talk about it?" Potter said, his voice low and concerned.

It wasn't the same person as in his dream. He knew that, but the feeling of rejection and abandonment he felt last night wasn't. He cursed his dream cycle for mixing memory with his muddled, unspoken feelings.

"You're awake. I know it. Come on, talk to me. What happened?" Potter said.

Draco relaxed, feeling content. Though Potter had touched him without permission, yet again, he felt safe, protected. Potter's arms were warm and strong. He resisted the urge to bury his head in Potter's neck. He smelled amazing, clean even.

"I thought we weren't going to play that game," he muttered, shuttering from the thought.

"I have to ask. You don't have to tell me anything. I was... offering," Potter said, his voice awkward.

Draco considered telling Potter about the dream, but he was embarrassed, not just for the humiliation his father inflicted upon him, but the fact that he was dreaming about Potter being there. That was opening himself up to more pain, especially if it upset him. Draco didn't think he could handle it if Potter left, now. This was getting complicated.

"Would... would it help if I tell you about my dream?" he offered.

Draco couldn't help but hear the fear in Potter's voice. Maybe the Chosen One needed some comfort, too. He nodded. Potter's heartbeat quickened and he didn't speak over a whisper.

"I was back at Hogwarts... the battle. I walked out into the courtyard. All my... friends were there... dead... even the ones who didn't...." Draco's heart clenched at the pain in his voice. "I couldn't save them. Then they... came to back to life... their eyes blue and they came toward me... like Inferi. They said...."

Potter's voice hitched and he stopped for a second. Draco could feel Potter trembling and wondered if he should extract himself to look directly at him. Potter tightened his arms as if in response to his thoughts. He wasn't letting him move.

"They said it was my fault... I was supposed to save them. All of them came at me grabbing me and I was back at the underground lake... with Dumbledore. The Inferi were pulling me into the darkness. That's when I woke up... screaming," Potter said, sniffling.

Draco could feel wetness when Potter pressed his face into his hair. Draco forced himself to swallow. That small gesture made him almost hum with content. As intimate as the embrace was, Potter needed comfort from his dreams that had been driving him to drink.

"I'm sorry," he said. "It's not your fault, Harry. You did everything you could."

"Yeah... there are always what ifs though," Potter murmured.

Draco tensed as he realized it was his turn. He didn't know where to start. Potter's dream was acute, direct: Inferi, dead friends, guilt. His dream was about childhood abuse, humiliation and a bunch of psychological issues.

"You don't have to Malfoy. I just wanted you to come out of it. You don't have to go through it, again," Potter said, loosening his hold.

Draco put his hand down to stop him. Fair was fair. Potter had opened himself up, after all. He should at least trust him enough.

"It wasn't even one of my bad ones.... I was 13 and my father had a dinner party. He wanted me to wear this neck collar, as it was so fashionable. He kept tightening it. Whenever I complained... he'd hit me and threaten me worse or even the Imperious Curse. I hated that. But I messed up at the party though... just a comment that I wasn't the best in my class. He was furious. After the party, I knew it was going to be bad. He took me back to my room. He... he made me... strip," Draco paused on the word, surprised he had told Potter that detail.

"He wanted to humiliate me... I guess. He made me leave that collar on though. He tightened more. I could barely breathe. Then he beat me with his cane and his fists until I passed out."

Potter tightened his hold, again. "I'm sorry... that's fucked up. You didn't deserve that."

"He made me say that I did," Draco whispered, tears trying to come out.

"Well you didn't. It wasn't your fault," Potter insisted.

"It... wasn't the worst part," Draco said, amazed his mouth kept speaking.

"What is it?" Potter asked, his head next to Draco's.

"I..." he stopped.

"Draco?"

He shouldn't've said anything. This was going to deep into his fucked-up psyche. He tried to keep his mouth shut.

"Please tell me," Potter said, encouragingly.

"You were there," he whispered and Potter's muscles locked up. He didn't say anything. "You just watched it all happen. You smiled when he hurt me."

Draco couldn't keep his tears in anymore. He was now more mortified from a lack of response from the Chosen One, who was behind him, holding him. "I'm sorry... I shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't have...."

"No, it's okay. I'm glad you did. I wouldn't do that... you know?"

"I know," he muttered. His fear of abandonment wasn't leaving him anytime soon.

"Malfoy?" Potter said, like he didn't believe him.

"It's not that I think you'd do that... ever... it's just... I don't know why you are here. If you actually want to be here, or are just making sure I don't kill myself. It's... too much. I owe you everything and you have all the power over me, Harry."

Potter took in some deep breaths. "I'm not going to hurt you, Draco. Please believe that."

"I do," he said weakly. "I just hate feeling this... weak and defenseless."

"You're not weak. You're recovering. You've handled more shit than anyone, Malfoy. It's going to take a second to bounce back."

"Optimistic prat."

"Self-pitying git."

Draco scowled and Potter laughed.

"Really, though," Potter said, his voice solidifying. "I won't use what I know to hurt you."

"I still owe you though. I'm indebted to you. I can't really deny you anything."

Potter pulled his head back and sighed. "You can say no. I'm not going to make you... do... anything."

"I know," Draco said, looking away. They were silent for a few minutes.

"Malfoy... do you dream of me often... hurting you?" Potter asked with sadness.

"Not really... not since you rescued me."

"The first time I came to your cell. You were scared to death of me."

"Yeah... I wasn't exactly... I thought I was hallucinating. I was just dreaming of..." he broke off.

"Yes?" Potter prodded.

"Of our sixth year...."

"When I almost killed you?" Potter breathed, guilt layered in his words. "I'm sorry."

"I've forgiven you," he said.

"That doesn't mean I didn't hurt you."

Draco shrugged. Their time on the floor was ending soon, but he didn't want it to.

Potter breathed deeply. "I have something to tell you."

"Yeah?"

"I wasn't going to say it... but... you told me... about that. Well... you were in my dream, too."

Malfoy rotated his head toward his, but still couldn't make eye contact. Potter did not loosen his death grip in the slightest.

"You were dead, too, and when they all got up, you said... that I didn't get there fast enough. That you were counting on me and I failed you."

Potter's heart was thumping hard. Draco could feel the rumbling in his chest.

"You didn't fail me. I'm out."

"Not soon enough, damnit. I should've just came and got you. You were there for three months and I barely did anything to get you out. I went to their me-celebrations and horse-traded with those sanctimonious sons-of-bitches! I'm sorry."

Draco's blood turned to sludge. Potter's guilt was freezing his insides. Was why he was there? He felt guilty that he didn't do enough. He was only there to fix his mistakes. Draco hated himself for hoping it was more.

"You did the best you could Potter. I'm glad you didn't just bust me out. I'd never be truly free, then. In a year, all this will be behind me. Stop punishing yourself. Not everything is on your shoulders."

"It feels like it is. Chosen One, remember?"

"Son of Lucius Malfoy, remember? My father almost killed me for breaking the family line. He wanted to. I'm sure he would have, as soon as he forced me to impregnate a wife and produced a new Malfoy heir."

Potter pressed his lips into his head, again. Draco's heart spasmed, again."You didn't break the line, you saved it. Your father was the rotten one. He nearly destroyed your family."

"Oh yeah? Gay remember? You think I'm going to "carry on" the line?" Draco spat, slightly astonished that he had admitted it out loud.

"There's nothing wrong with being who you really are. And there are other options. I technically have a son, already."

Draco jumped and turned toward him, but Potter stopped him.

"Tonks and Remus? Their son, Teddy Lupin, is my godson," Potter explained. "Your aunt is watching him for me, but she's too old to care for him as he grows. Whenever I figure out my life, I'll have a son to watch out for. He doesn't have to be my blood. It's how I raise him and show him I love him that matters. Blood is not a legacy, it's how you will be remembered."

Draco shivered at his words, but said, nothing.

"Are you hungry? I can make you breakfast-slash-lunch?"

"Are you going to let me go?" Draco snorted, though he wanted nothing than to stay where he was.

"Maybe," Potter chuckled.

Draco breathed deeply and took in Potter's scent, again. He smelled clean. "Can I ask you something first?"

"Umm... sure?"

"Did you drink last night?"

Potter let out a sigh and said, "No, I did not."

"Why?"

"I was out of Hangover Potion," he said, sarcastically, but then he added, "And you said I shouldn't."

Potter finally let go of his bear hug on him. Draco missed Potter's warmth already. But he rolled off and chambered to his feet, turning to make eye contact for the first time. Potter had indeed showered. His hair was still flecked in moisture. Potter even had clean clothes on. His green blazing eyes were watching him, concerned. He lowered his eyes to the floor.

"Thanks," he mumbled, awkwardly. Undoubtedly, he would have been trapped in his mind for a great deal longer, if it weren't for him.

Potter nodded.

Draco frowned when he realized that his mother was gone. "What'd my mother say?"

"Just that she couldn't get you up. She seemed okay, though sad," he replied and then sighed. "She's tough. She's handling it. It was worst when you were... gone."

Draco lowered his shoulders. His stupid decision to just plead guilty had hurt her beyond reason. Of course, he had thought they'd just kill him and be done with it.

"Come on, precious angel. Time for food," Potter said, smirking.

Draco looked at him incredulously, all morose thoughts gone.

"What? I waited near a week without bringing that up. I think it showed tremendous restraint," he laughed, walking past Draco toward the kitchen.

Draco clenched his jaw, slightly embarrassed, but only slightly. He smiled despite himself and even more when he considered that Potter had said it on purpose. He followed into him into the kitchen.

Potter pulled out a box from the cupboard. "Pancakes, okay?"

"Sure."

Potter pulled out a bowl and a measuring cup.

"You want some help?"

"You want to cook?" Potter asked, looking at him.

"I can measure," Draco said, hopefully.

Potter laughed. "Nope, you're going to cook. You got to learn some time. The directions are on the back."

Draco huffed, but picked up the box. He found the recipe. "1/2 box or...."

"Are you planning on eating ten pancakes?"

"No...."

"Then just the ½ box recipe will be fine," Potter chortled and put the mixing bowl in front of him.

"2 cups of mix," Draco said aloud and pulled out the bag out of the box. The white powder had multi-colored chips in it.

"Why are there..." Draco started flipping the box over. "Funfetti chips in it?"

"Because I like to pretend I'm a kid."

Draco raised an eyebrow at him, but Potter gave him a smile. "Okay. Is this flour?" he asked as he poured out the mixture.

"Yes and no. It's a premade mixture. Flour is an ingredient. Much like boomslang skin is an ingredient in Polyjuice Potion."

Draco looked at him, again. "How do you know that?"

"Oh, we brewed it in our second year," Potter said, smiling mischievously.

"Y-You brewed Polyjuice Potion?" he stuttered. It was a NEWT level potion.

"Yeah... well it was more Hermione than me and Ron."

"Why? How? Doesn't it take a month to brew?" Draco said, marveling that Hermione had accomplished a semi-illegal NEWT level potion in their second year. No wonder he was second best.

"Well... we let it brew in Morning Myrtle's bathroom after the Chamber of Secrets was opened."

"How did you get shredded skin of a boomslang?"

"Umm... we stole it from Snape."

Draco's jaw dropped. "You stole ingredients from Snape?"

"Yeah... remember when a firecracker landed Goyle's cauldron?"

Draco glared at him, as he had gotten doused in Swelling Solution. "That hurt, Potter."

"So'd getting my nose broken. We'll just say we're even then."

Draco frowned. "We'd be going for a while if we are going to figure out what cancels out what."

"It's a good thing we're in the middle of making pancakes or we'd have a lot of talking."

Draco snorted, but started measuring out 2 cups of confetti-flour mix. He frowned at the rough measurement. It wasn't exact. He kept shaking the powder so it'd be in line with the one on the cup.

"It's cooking, not potion-making," Potter said, again. "It can be rough and be completely fine."

Draco didn't believe him, but dumped the 2 cups of flour in the bowl. He measured out 1 ¼ cups of water and then said, "We need ¼ cup of Crisco Vegetable oil and an egg."

"Canola oil is fine," Potter insisted, handing him a bottle of oil. Draco huffed, but measured it. He was about to pour it in the when Potter stopped him. "Crack the egg into it first."

"But it doesn't say...."

"Muggle companies are lazy and don't put all the directions on the box," he said, with a laugh. "Put the egg with the oil and whisk them first. It's easier. Then dump it in and mix."

"How are you supposed to know what to do without proper directions?"

Potter laughed, "Experience is supposed to help."

"Ph." Draco mixed the potion together.

Potter wrapped the rest of the bag up and put it into the box. He read it and said, "You know you used the wrong recipe?"

"No, I didn't," he said, affronted.

"You used the waffle recipe."

"There's more than one recipe on a box? What kind of muggle trick is it?"

"I know. They are crafty But it's not a big deal. It'll be fine."

"We used the wrong recipe!"

"You used the wrong recipe, but it's food, not magical potions. It won't kill us and taste fine," Potter maintained, then pulled out a griddle and handed it to Draco.

Draco set it on the stove. Potter dumped some oil on it and it started to heat up. Draco didn't see how he turned on the burner, again. Potter just stared at the oil as though waiting for it to do something.

"Sorry, had to wait for it to get hot. Pour it out in little circles. You should try to keep them separated, but it's okay if they touch."

Draco slopped the pancake mix onto the flat griddle and made a mess of it. Potter wouldn't stop laughing.

"Here's a spatula to flip them. Wait until it starts bubbling."

"Bubbling? Isn't this supposed to become a pancake?" he asked.

Potter laughed again. His face was becoming red. "Merlin, you're worse than Ron. Did you never go into a kitchen in your life?"

Draco glared at him, blushing.

"Alright, see the bubbles? Just wait until half of the pancake has them and use the flipper to flip 'em."

"Flipper?"

"The spatula. You want to scrap the bottom of the pan."

Draco waited and then after he got an approving nod from Harry, he scooted the spatula-thing across the metal surface. The pancake bunched up and squished together, but he managed to flip it. It was deformed.

"What I'd do wrong?"

"Oh, the first one always does that. Try the others."

He did and the rest flipped fine. Perfect brown circles. Draco smirked.

"There's no real trick to deciding if they are done. It's by feel. Sometimes the pan gets hotter, so you don't want to cook it as long as the first time."

Draco took the plate Potter offered him and scrapped up the deformed pancake and flipped in into the plate. It was light brown on the bottom. Potter nodded in approval. The others came off just fine, too. Potter poured more oil in the pan and then signaled him to dump more pancake mix onto it. He was cleaner the second time. Potter was right, the bubbles appeared faster and he turned the knob on the front of the cooking machine. Draco flipped them and after a minute put them on the plate. He turned the knob-thing, again. The heat went off.

Potter carried it to the table and set it down. He grabbed butter and syrup, while Draco got two plates and flatware.

"Looks good," Potter praised.

"Are we not making anything else?"

"Nope. We are having pancakes and that's it."

"Okay," Draco shrugged.

Potter sat down, lifted the stack with his fork and took the deformed one from the bottom and started buttering it. Draco looked at him weird.

"I like the messed up ones."

"Uh huh," he muttered and took one from the top. He buttered it like Potter and poured a healthy quantity of syrup on it, then put another one on top and did the same. He added a third, but noticed Potter was staring at him.

"Like pancakes, huh?"

Draco flushed red, again, but watched Potter eat his one deformed pancake with a smile.

"It's good," Potter said.

Draco slid his fork through the pile and took a bite. Merlin, it was good. They were the best pancakes he ever had. He kept eating until his plate was empty. Potter took another two pancakes and ate them one by one, also satisfied.

"Those were great! Does all muggle cooking taste better?" Draco asked.

"Sometimes, but that's the best pancake mix. I think I like the waffle recipe better, though. This pancake mix is different than the kind at school. The house elves probably just make it from scratch."

"Scratch?"

"The powder mix is pre-made, remember? They can make it using flour and other ingredients. I don't know how to make it, myself."

"Oh..." he said.

"But not bad for your first meal, huh?" Potter said.

"It was relatively easy," he conceded.

"So what do you want to do, now?"

Draco shrugged. He had no idea what he could do in a muggle flat. Potter humphed, looking around. The place was a little dirty.

"We could clean up the apartment."

"Umm... why?"

"You want your mom to do it?"

"No, but... can't you just use your wand?"

"It doesn't clean as good, surprisingly. I've been decontaminating my house this summer. Besides, it'll help us focus."

Draco didn't miss the us part. Was Potter still on tenterhooks as much as he was? He nodded. He'd had detention at Hogwarts after all where he had to clean by hand. So they went to war. Scrubbing the counter, stove, cabinets, floor and the icebox, before heading to the bathroom. Draco almost found the exercise relaxing... if his hands and back didn't hurt that much. Potter took clothes somewhere to wash and Apparated back. Draco swept his mother's room, but didn't want to do much more. He scoured his room though. Potter stripped his bed and took his bedding to get washed, too.

Three hours of work resulted in a clean, nice smelling apartment. Draco felt like he accomplished something. He smiled despite his pain. He liked cleaning, more than he ought to. Potter knew what he was doing. He nodded and suggested that they start dinner. Draco nodded and went on to his next cooking lesson.

Sorry I was gone so long! Family time and a lot of driving. I wrote a few chapters though, so I'll be posting another chapter really soon. I just have to edit it!