The story was inspired by misteeirene's Savior's Saviors. It started a bit as a fanfiction to a fanfiction and has some obvious similarities to the original in the first chapters. I contacted misteeirene when I was in the middle of writing so she could read the first chapter. I got some important feedback and the permission to post this story.

Because I like the cannon I tried to keep to the general story line using lines from the show on occasion.

I apologize before hand for any spelling mistakes and my probably terrible punctuation. English isn't my first language.

I do not own Harry Potter or the Walking Dead.

This story will show and mention sexual violence to a minor as well as homosexuality as the story progresses. Don't like, don't read.

Chapter 1

Prologue

This was the end.

It was officially and totally the end! The end of the world. The end of civilisation. The end of bloody and Merlin forsaken humanity.

And soon it would be the end of Harry's life.

Not that it mattered much anymore, Harry was bone tired and just so done with all of it.

His whole body ached terribly, he felt bruised everywhere. He tried to numb his mind against what was happening to him like he had done a hundred times before. Guiding his mind to some faraway place where he didn't have to feel, to hear or to taste anything.

Where he could pretend that he was ok, that all of it was just bad dream that he could wake up from and he would be save in his four-poster bed in the Gryffindor and Neville snoring in the beds beside him. Dean and Seamus arguing about who was taking the first shower. Hermine would be waiting form them in the common room, nagging them about being late and about homework…

A sob ripped Harry out of his safe place.

The blue eyed boy a few feet away from him was crying, his cheek showed nasty scratches…

Must have happened when Dan pushed him to the ground... even his thoughts felt slow, muddled and distant.

It was as if Harry was watching everything from above, as if this didn't happen to him.

As if he wasn't the one being raped right now but another poor bruised boy with black hair and green eyes.

As if Dan wasn't moving and grunting above him like an animal, ripping into him with each rapid and unrefined thrust.

He wished the other boy would stop sobbing…

It was really troublesome. He wanted to be able to go back to his safe place… Hogwarts…

Harry knew he would never see the beautiful castle again. His home was lost to him… had been lost to him since the beginning of the outbreak.

But maybe he was kidding himself. If he stopped deluding himself, if was honest to himself, he would be forced to admit that he had lost Hogwarts even before. Had lost it in a graveyard in Little Hangleton, he had lost a lot that night, next to Cedric's cooling corps.

Wormtail had betrayed them all again, aiding Voldemort in gaining a new body going as far as sacrificing his own hand and Harry's blood for it.

Harry had fought tooth and nail to get away, even duelled the Dark Lord discovering that their twin wands wouldn't attack each other. There had been an opening for him… a chance to get away, to go back home and fulfil Cedric's last wish. But when Harry thought he had manged to flee his hand just inches away from the cup.

Voldemort had banished his only way of escape… he had been stuck in a graveyard full of Deatheaters…

It had taken four weeks for Dumbledore and a group that called themselves the Order of Phoenix to find him. When they located him he had been ready to lose hope, he had been ready to die even back then…

Dumbledore's words echoing in his head.

"After all to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure…"

But that hadn't been his end…

His rescuers had come in wands blazing and it had been mayhem. Lives had been lost on both sides… Riddle had been killed by Harry in the end, but most importantly Sirius and Remus had been among the fallen.

Thinking about it still tore Harry's heart apart with overwhelming grief, rage and shame. Hermine had called it survivor's guilt…

After the events around Voldemort's demise, after 4th year and the loss of Siri and Remus; Harry had hoped that he would be able to spend summer break with Ron and his family. He had begged Dumbledore not to send him back to his aunt and uncle. But the headmaster had been unrelenting. There were still Deatheaters on the run, out for revenge, out to kill Harry...

The bloodwards had been his best protection, so Dumbledore made it clear that there wouldn't be an alternative. Harry had to go back to Private Drive Nr. 4.

The Dursleys had been just as enthusiastic as Harry to see him there.

Only a week later everything had gone down... Vernon had to go to Atlanta for a business convention and the Dursleys had planned for a three weeklong vacation afterwards. At that point the wards and the blood protection were not strong enough to hold on their own with the Dursleys leaving for more than three weeks... not that they had wanted Harry to stay alone in the house... the horror! Miss Fick had broken her leg again and had been still in hospital.

And Harry hadn't been allowed go to Ron's.

The headmaster had been very frank with him... the Burrow wasn't safe and Harry would endanger the Weasleys. End of discussion! He had nicely played up to Harry's fears of endangering people near to him or being a burden to them. Staying at Hogwarts had been also out of question, since the school wards were in maintaining after the tournament.

That had left only one option... the Dursleys had been forced to take him with them. Harry had never seen Vernon's face get that shaded of purple. He had screamed and raged at Dumbledore, that they wouldn't bring that ungrateful freak on their hard earned vacation. Vernon and Petunia had claimed even to be afraid that Harry would to something freaky with his magic. Dumbledore had seemed a bit troubled by his relatives' attitude to him. But not enough to find another solution... instead he had given them money (from Harry's Gringotts account) for Harry's proportion of the travel expenses.

Harry had watched bitterly how Vernon had greedily pocketed the money.

Their fears of magic were to be calmed by a magic suppressing ritual. An old goblin based ritual that should bind his magical core. It had been invented to sanction wizards' crimes against the goblin nation. The binding of a core was an extremely painful process since it was the centre of a wizard's life force and would lead to death in a matter of weeks.

It fitted goblins mentality to develop such a cruel and slow way to punish someone going against their laws.

Dumbledore had tweaked the ritual a bit. He had cut Harry off from his active magic, but had left him at least with a basic access to his latent magic by waving in runes to stabilise Harry's core. It kept the green eyed boy alive and was theoretically saving his core from being permanently damaged.

Furthermore the ritual was keyed into the teen's core's maturity… Since his magic was still growing the ritual wouldn't keep its effect forever.

Reaching the peak of his magical growth on Harry's 17th birthday the ritual wouldn't be able to contain his powers anymore because it had been impressed on an immature core. Until then only the caster would be able to reverse the binding and it outward sign would vanish. And getting two birds with one stone the ritual would hide Harry while outside the wards of his home.

Magic could only locate Magic!

Nobody would be able to trace Harry. The ritual and the tattoos would function as a form of magical witness ritual manifested itself in the form of wristband-like Celtic tattoos riddled with runes innerving and curling in thin artistic lines around Harry's wrists. They looked kind of pretty…

While never fond of the tattoos, by now Harry hated them and what they stood for with passion... Being blocked from his magic felt crippling. It hurt almost constantly and made him dizzy. Despite having no active access to his powers, magic was still highly emotion and intention based. The magic in his core would still fluctuate, increasing with his instincts trying to assist him and to protect him but the binding was working against that natural defence.

It exhausted Harry immensely. The worst reactions came with the protective flares of his magic. The tattoos would heat up then and forcefully slam down barriers on his core and his magic in agitation. Those moments left him grasping breathlessly in blinding pain. It felt like his magic and the tattoos were simultaneously punishing him.

In the first weeks he had fainted a lot, causing worried passers-by to admit him again and again to a hospital in Atlanta near the hotel. Although to be fair the fainting spells back then were also aided by dehydration and heatstrokes.

The Dursleys had been adamant that he didn't disturb their vacation with his presence, pushing him as early as possible out of the hotel room, without a key or money so Harry had spent a lot of his time strolling around Atlanta in the summer heat. It hadn't gone overly well for him.

But over the time he had become friendly with the head nurse who gave him the pin code for the back door because she got sick of him being hospitalized all the time.

The draining and weakening effect of the ritual seemed to have gotten even stronger over time. Harry had tried everything to get the tattoos off hoping it would cancel their binds effects somehow...everything short of cutting his own hands of.

Scratching, cutting, burning,... Not. One. Bloody. Scratch! Not. A. Single. Disturbance. In. The. Lines! The only thing that his failed attempts had gotten him was some pretty heavy scaring on his wrists around the tattoos.

So Harry had spent the last months getting weaker, and more and more hopeless. With the tattoos nobody was able to track him down in America, not the Deatheaters nor the Headmaster or his friends...

The Dursleys had left him behind in the early days of the apocalypse. He didn't think that they were still alive...

They were never really fit and surviving in this post-apocalyptic world relied a lot on being fast... and running. He just didn't see Vernon and Duddly doing that... maybe rolling... the thought would have made him laugh if his own situation wasn't so shitty.

He was stranded. He was alone. And he felt fucking helpless... The only defence he learnt in the last four years was bloody blocked from him.

Merlin, what a mess!

Harry had survived on his own for nearly nine months after the dead had started to walk. Running, hiding, following his instincts and his guts.

And while he didn't faint anymore he had steadily gotten weaker. He was starting to fear that the modifications in the ritual weren't enough for such a long term use and the binding of his core was already doing serious damage to him.

He had gotten sicker and he hadn't been careful enough. His gut had been telling him to get moving that day...

Not to stay too long in that house, but he had been tired, had been feeling too sick to move. He had thought that one more hour of rest wouldn't matter. He had never been so wrong in his life. In hindsight he should have trusted his hunches more since they had kept him alive in this fucked up new world. When he finally wanted to move they had already been there.

Harry remembered how surprised they had been to see a teenaged boy stumble out of an abandoned house...a teenaged boy… alone...

"Claimed!"

Just one word but it changed everything. Len had claimed him that day. And after that Harry had ceased to be a human being. He became a thing, a possession. To be used as his claimer pleased.

The Claimers lived by simple rules.

First, if a member saw something they wanted, they had to shout "claimed".

Secondly, they must be honest at all times.

That meant the other men didn't rape him without Len's permission. But they would knock him around and Len would "share" him with them as good for trade.

In the beginning Harry had tried to fight, had tried to escape...

Unsurprisingly Len had beaten him black and blue for that. He punished him for every little resistance. Being not fast enough to comply when he was ordered to suck cock, even the hint of teeth when doing so, for crying to loud while fucked, for fighting back against Len or those he got lent to with his claimer's permission.

The punishment after his fourth escape attempt had been the worst. Len had crushed his glasses, mocking Harry all the while. They both had known that taking his glasses from him was the end of his resistance. His blurry sight just bad enough that he'd be too slow, too vulnerable to run away on his own.

Joe had ordered a group punishment for 'lying' as Harry had been forced to promise not to run anymore after his third attempt. They hadn't been kind to him… beating and whipping him until he lost consciousness.

But to make "the message sink in"... Len had taken a knife to Harry's back...

The wounds had nearly killed Harry. Not wanting to lose his pet Len had been less extensive but no less violent in his punishments after that.

His claimer had taken to starving him methodically... As it was Harry couldn't remember when he last ate something that wasn't grass, herbs or cum. His Claimer preferred him to be weak and helpless.

Too weak to fight him off when he wanted to use him. Too helpless to make a run for it.

And now he laid under Dan, the stinking bald man who had leered at him for months but hadn't found anything useful to trade for some quality time with Len's pet.

Well he did not need to find anything to trade. In the end I threw myself at him. The part of Harry mind that was slowly going insane wanted to laugh hysterical at the irony.

Another harsh trust broke his line of thoughts and ripped a pained scream from his lips.

The blue eyed boy sobbed again. Tony held the kid at gun point all the while palming his cock through his jeans leering at Harry and Dan.

"Look closely that's how it's done. Will be you when Dan's through with him."

Chapter 1

Rick couldn't believe it.

How could it have come to this?

He knew the boy getting raped right in front of them… had seen him before.

Under a bed in an abandoned house…

+++ Flashback++++

Rick was silently cursing while he looked into stunned green eyes.

He had just slept a little when he heard the commotion downstairs. Heard a man getting hurt, begging his boss...

Shit! Shit! Motherfucking shit!

He had hastily scrambled under the bed, hoping he could hide himself long enough to get out. What he hadn't expected was that one of the men would come into room with a child? A boy?! Rick had just been able to see the thin legs in too big pants.

He had listened as the man order the child to blow him for food...

Oh, for fucks sake...

Rick was ashamed but he had closed his eyes then. Had forcefully clenched them shut... because he couldn't stand to see these thin knees on the floor, the thin arms with those frail wrists and hands. Whenever the boy had moved his hands Rick had seen glimpses of tattoos and heavy scaring around delicate wrists. It looked like the boy had tried to… opt out... a few times…

The former deputy sheriff had wanted to press his hands against his ears to block out the slurping sounds, the moans and groans. He couldn't fault the boy for trying to escape if this was his life…

Nothing he had been forced to do since he woke up in that hospital, had felt more horrible, than lying here, hiding himself under a bed while letting a child get raped... He had wanted to scream and curse.

This is what's left of Officer Friendly.

A beaten up mess,

not a fighter anymore,

not a farmer anymore,

just a man, that had failed his people.

A man that had failed his daughter and his son.

Self-pity and shame were cruising through Rick's body. Everything in him itched to be Officer Friendly once again, to get up and knock out the rapist... to help the child.

Nothing good would come out of it. They'll kill me before I could help the kid... The ex-sheriff had tried to convince himself.

God, Michonne and Carl were still out there. He had to warn them, to protect them...

They came first! They had to. They were all that was left of his family.

And now the rapist lay snoring on the bed while the boy...teenager…? - Rick hated himself even more, because that kid looked only slightly older than Carl. - The boy was looking at him huge green eyes, eyes nearly too big for his thin face. The kid seemed severely malnourished, collarbones and a shoulder peeking out of the collar of his to big shirt. The teen looked stunned, mouth hanging just a bit open. Green eyes ran over Rick beaten up face.

Cataloguing everything. He's observant…

If he notifies them to my presence I'm done are at least three other guys in the house maybe more. Shit!

Rick's brain was running a hundred miles an hour.

He could feel sweat pouring down his back, still starring at the green eyed boy in front of him. His blue eyes trailed over the kid's skinny features and the fighter in Rick observed all possible weak points.

If boy proves to be a hindrance I might have to kill him. I don't want to but I will if I have to...

He's such a waif-like little thing… I could snap his neck with one hand and cover his mouth with the other…

It might be a little struggle but it shouldn't be too loud… I could take him out before he alerts them and make a run for it. If I can take them by surprise it should be possible.

Dying here and now just wasn't an option.

Sorry kid!

Rick tensed even more, ready to fight his way out if necessary. He would taking the risk if he had to... Willing himself to kill the abused child if he had to…

Silence stretched...

Both of them measuring each other.

And then... the boy heaved a silent sigh. All tension bleeding out of him, made his face look softer, smoothing out.

A shaking hand brought a finger to bruised looking lips... Rick flinched inwardly when he remembered why they looked that way... signalling him to be quiet. Rick knew that the boy meant to promise to stay silent as well.

They shared a look of understanding and a tiny nod. Rick had to rest his head on the floor boards for a moment in heart-wrenching relief. With closed eyes and clenched fists he fought down a sob. He had been ready. He had been ready to kill the boy, to snap his neck if it meant to get back to Carl and Michonne.

He would have hated himself for it but he would have done it. Murdering strangers no matter how old they were meant nothing compared to protecting his family.

He had failed them at the prison. Had failed to take action and it had costed them dearly…

Never again!

Suddenly there was the sound of heavy steps coming to the room.

"Yo! Comfy?" Tony's rough voice woke the man on the bed. The teen tense. But noticed that he carefully avoided to look under the bed.

Good, best not to draw any attention to himself or the place under the bed.

The two rough men started then to lay into each other. Their verbal sparring about the bed escalated quickly into a real fight.

"Out of ma way pet! I'm gonna show that piece a shit. Under the bed with ya!" At rapist's growling command, the raven haired kid squeezed himself under the bed next to Rick.

Together they watched wide eyed how the two men fought. Their breaths hitched when the one wearing a bandana fell to the floor and stared directly at them. Thankfully the first men had started choking the guy on the floor, because Rick had obviously been seen. It was their luck that the choked man couldn't get the words out and was already losing consciousness and couldn't try to tell his attacker that there was a stranger under the bed.

As soon as the situation had calmed a little the boy lost no time crawling out from under the bed. His master seemed pleased to see him; smirk clear in his voice. Rick could hear the belt and fly being opened again.

"There ya are! Fightin´ gives me terrible cockstand." He laughed cruelly. The kid must have shown some kind of negative reaction to that.

" What? Were ya hoping to be done with me fer today? Should be thankful to tha asshole, wouldna been able to go again so soon. But now I'm all fired up. Come here... Take care of it, so I can go back to sleep."

The second time was even worse for Rick.

Now that he knew what the boy looked like he couldn't block out the pictures his brain conjured, the sounds were burning themselves into his memory.

The boy had helped him and protected him. And Rick... former deputy sheriff… lay under the bed like a coward. Hot tears were burning in his eyes and obscured his vision.

He tried to think about Carl and Michonne being still out there. That they came first! Always!

A heavy groan from above the signalled the approaching end. The bed started to shake with heavy trusts.

Chants of "Fuck, Fuck, Fuck! …..Like that Bitch! …. Here it COMES!... Uhrg!" filled the room.

Rick wanted to scream... and he wanted to kill the scumbag on the bed.

Soon after he felt the weight on the bed shift and snoring followed nearly immediately. The boy's face reappeared under the bed.

Rick had never seen a child looking that dead. Big eyes were red rimmed, tears were swimming in them but not falling; lips puffy and red. His face was carefully blank.

Rick wanted to reach out to the boy, wanted to say anything to make it better… anything to take that blank look away from the boy's face. Carefully he stretched out his hand to the kid to offer a bit of comfort.

The movement seemed to break the dark haired child out of his withdrawn state. He made an abrupt gesture clearly rejecting Rick's attempt to touch and comfort him.

Instead impressive green eyes narrowed in irritation and a frail hand dismissively waved Rick's concern away.

The silent "Let it be. Not important now." quite clear in the room between them. Again the younger male indicated for Rick to stay hush, a little more insistent than before.

The older man had seldom felt so conflicted about anything but forced himself to get a grip. Clenching his fists he sent a tiny nod at the green eyed boy holding the intense gaze trying to convey how much he wanted to help, how sorry he was that he couldn't... wouldn't… It earned him a small nod in return and a slightly strained but soft and sympathetic smile.

The air of apprehension between them sent an icy calm through Rick's head and body. Hiss trembling eased by a dreadful and cold clarity. They were on the same page… knowing that there was only one way this could go in the end. Rick would have to leave soon and he could only go alone.

And while the older of the two was still at odds with this, the kid had already met reality heads on with a wry acceptance.

Downstairs they could hear the other Claimers looking through the house.

Their time was running out.

They had found a woman's shirt...!

The boy shared a wide eyed look with blue eyed man, who had tensed up at that information...

"There are others with you. Others that are not here now but could probably come back at any moment". Was the wordless message conveyed by incredibly big green eyes. Heaven the kid was fast at connecting the dots.

Rick responded with an agreeing grimace.

I need to leave! Now!

Rick could see the understanding in the kid's eyes... the boy looked determined.

"Go! Now!" was silently communicated.

Rick hesitated. He didn't know how to leave the green eyed teen behind. Sensing his hesitation the boy gave him sequence of facial expressions...

A resigned smile, that seemed to say:

"Thank you but we both know you wouldn't make it with me."

An eye roll that looked so much like Carls when he thought that Rick was being an idiot, the kind of eye roll only teenagers could really do...

And a scowl combined that with that determined look told him to get the fuck moving and stop wasting precious time.

Getting out of that room felt like the hardest thing he ever did.

Every step away from the boy filled him with more shame and guilt.

++++ Flashback end++++

And now his shame had caught up to him.

They had come out of the dark, silent in a way that reminded him of Daryl, holding him and Michonne at gun point.

"Today is the day of reckoning, sir! Restitution rightening the whole universe!" The grey haired leader of the group had said and he wouldn't show them any mercy, that was clear.

Rick had killed a man when he fled the house, leaving him to turn and now his comrades wanted revenge. Maybe this was karma…

A balding stocky man had pressed his body against the car, licking his lips, disgustingly excited, leering at Carl inside.

"I claim the boy!" The man with the blue eyes flinched at that, feeling Michonne doing the same.

They had both understood what was implied with that claim, it was clearly written in their desperate and hateful expressions.

The small fat man had wasted no time and had pulled Carl out of the car holding a knife at his throat... Rick felt nauseous. Breathing getting more and more raged the bastard was burying his face into his boy's neck inhaling his scent, dragging his tongue over the Carl's ear. That pig started to rub his crotch against his boy.

Rick built himself up for a fight. His muscles tensing, hand reaching for his weapon.

"Listen! It was me. Just me!" He argued, hoping they would let at least Carl and Michonne go.

Joe grabbed him pressing the barrel of the gun to his head.

"I don't think so, ma friend...but we're reasonable man. First we'll have the boy. Then the girl. Then we shoot you and we will be square." He laughed cruelly.

Rick could see the man holding Carl. He threw his son to the ground. Grubby hand were merciless ripping at Carl's clothes. The swine then used his body weight to hold his boy - his baby boy - down. Grunting in excitement when Carl struggled trying to free himself. Carl got visible more and more desperate in his attempts to escape, straining to get the stinking man off him. The man was already ripping at his pants...

Rick knew what these men were capable of... had witnessed it! Rage flooded his system. These men raped kids. His child could end like the boy with the dead green eyes.

Rage and desperation flooded him! He needed to do something! Anything!

He just couldn't let this happen. Not to Carl! Not after losing Judith...

"Let him go!" Out of the dark a small body literally threw himself at the rapist. Everyone seemed startled at that sudden interruption.

The green eyed boy! Rick recognized him! The kid he had left behind... He was here. He was alive!

Relief wasn't enough to describe his feelings. Rick had wondered if he had left the teen behind to be killed either by the walker in the bathroom or by the living survivors for not telling on him... Wondering if he had loaded more guilt on his shoulders.

The underfeed body didn't do any damage but brought the man out of his momentum.

When the balding man saw, who had disturbed him he seemed amused... even disgustingly delighted. Greedily taking in the other boy's slender body.

"Are ya offering ya self instead?" The man's beady eyes were glossed over in lust. He was already getting off Carl and advanced on the older teen.

The other men had pulled themselves together by now and had started laughing, mocking the raven-haired teenager.

"Playing hard to get for months and now he's throwing himself at Dan like a desperate whore."

"Didn't get fucked since the night with the new guy. Should have said so that ya gagging for cock!"

"Always knew Len couldn't give it ta ya enough. See how easy he is."

A long haired man growled at that. "Shut ya trap, Billy!" He looked angry enough to start a brawl.

The green eyed boy had flinched at the comments but didn't back down. He watched the approaching man warily...

"If you'll leave him alone... then yes, I'm... I'm offering... That's want you wanted, right?" Rick was surprised by the soft British accent. The voice wavered slightly but the teen stayed resolute.

The fat man groaned at that, slobbering over the thought alone.

"Oh, your such a pretty thing… such a pretty, pretty little thing!" He wasted no time. He all but jumped on the older boy, pushing him to the ground, tearing his too big trousers off.

Without further undo he was on top of the too thin teen. Licking, biting, and rubbing himself against the young body under him. Fumbling with his fly he hastily and clumsily pulled his stiff cock out of his pants. Harshly pressing the boy into the ground as he brought them both into position, his hard-on poking the kid's ass.

Rick felt the pressure in his head building up, blood thrumming in his ears, the only sounds seemed to break through the waves of his maddening rage and desperation were Carl's sobs, those ragged hectic breaths that spoke of lust filled excitement... and the pained scream of the green eyed boy when he was breached without any care or preparation.

This scream, like a wounded animal, was like the kick-off for all hell to break loose.

Like so much in Harry's life the situation had escalated pretty quickly...

Daryl was only the third day with the Claimers when the shit hit the fan. After they got on the move again Len had started a pissing contest with other archer.

Over a bloody rabbit... and maybe a bit over Harry…

Len had tried to trick Joe into punishing Daryl for stealing his claim; only to get beaten himself. Harry felt a little vindictive about this and part of him had been happy to see their roles reversed for once, a further plus was that Len had lost consciousness afterwards, so Harry had gotten around a threatened fucking.

And tonight just when Daryl had decided to scout the area for some food they had stumbled on the blue eyed man he had seen under the bed and who had killed Lou in his escape.

The bearded man was with a beautiful black woman with dreadlocks and … a samurai sword... which looked…well...wicked! A kid seemed to be in the car.

It was without a doubt the beaten up, blue eyed man he had met under bed.

Harry could remember his own numbness that day.

He had resigned himself to his fate and gotten on his knees.

Had tried to empty his head... to do what Len expected from him. What had kept him going was that Len had quite literally dangled a carrot before his nose and promised him some real food for a blowjob.

He had been solely focused on getting Len off. He knew how to do it by now... he had lost count how often he got hurt when he hadn't done it right.

Hollowing his cheeks, building a rhythm. Up and down. Trying to breathe through his nose. Using his tongue for more stimulation. He had gotten the hang of it, knew the mechanics well enough.

He had learned to ignore Len's low growling, his mocking taunts or a half shout "God... Yess...Fuuuuucking Bitch! "

Harry swallowing cum had become near constant thing. He knew by now how to take a breath, relaxing his throat so he could take a cock as deep as possible, so he wouldn't have to taste the sperm. Every time feeling disgusted and detached at the same time.

The first time he had vomited on Len after a forced blow job. His claimer had beaten that out of him quickly. Harry didn't threw up any more... he just felt nothing most of the time.

Numb.

At least semen is supposed to be high on protein and it was a kind of fluid... had supplied a laconic part of his mind from a faraway place. In a fucked up way Len was feeding him on a regular basis...

Bloody fucking hell! I'm beyond messed up. He needed to stop thinking fucked up stuff like that before he couldn't hold back the hysterical giggling that was building up inside him. He was going nuts...

He had been incredible tried... of everything for the longest time by now.

Dying had sound like a better option every bloody day.

The blue eyed man from under the bed looked a lot better than the last time. Back then he had been trembling and sweating, ugly discolorations all over his visible skin and obviously unable to defend himself against the Claimers, let alone taking Harry with him.

The man had been as shocked as Harry to see him.

The blue eyed man had been afraid but ready to take on the world if necessary.

He had understood that the Claimers were bad news that he would be dead if they found him.

These people, the blue eyed man and the dark skinned woman, had to be the family Daryl talked about.

Where the hell was Daryl? Fuck!

The man and the woman hadn't noticed the approaching group yet... Harry had started to look around... there had to be something he could use to draw their attention... Carefully Harry had moved a few feet to the side right into a leaves heap.

At the rustling both the man and the woman had grabbed their weapons, alerted!

But it had been too late Joe had already been behind the man pointing his gun on thy guy's head. Tony had the woman on gunpoint kicking away her sword... Merlin, what a mess!

Len and the others had closed in on them weapons raised.

Harry had watched on as Dan had looked into the car, making pleased sounds...

Shit... That's never a good sign.

Clenching his shaking fists, silently cursing Harry had gone closer to the group. Dan had found the boy... Carl, had Daryl said.

Merlin's soggy balls, Daryl where are you?!

The boy, Dan had pulled out of the car, was younger than Harry... good looking with chestnut brown hair and familiar blue eyes. Eyes thatwere now wide with fear, fear for his father, the woman and himself.

Harry had felt nauseous. He knew what would follow… had lived through it himself and he just couldn't stand the thought that it could happen to anyone else… He just couldn't let his happened.

His saving people thing Hermine had called it once… but right then he hadn't allow himself to think about her or the life he had at Hogwarts, his friends, the Weasleys, his magic… his home and the first place where he truly belonged….

He hadn't been able to allow himself to think at all or he wouldn't have been able to go through with it. He would have frozen up in fear and panic.

So he had launched himself unthinkingly and unbraced into Dan throwing the man off the other boy.

The disgusting and stinking man had taken the offered chance in a spilt second. Harry had heard the mocking of the other and Len's aggression. He knew if he survived the night that Len would probably kill him for the humiliation alone.

This was the end. No doubt.

He didn't dare to think otherwise. Hope was poison these days.

At the beginning he had hoped a lot:

That someone would find him, help him...

That he would be able to flee...

That he would be able to hold out long enough for his magic to return...but that would be still months away.

His magic would be still bound until his 17th birthday. And with his magic bound nobody from home would be able to find him. And he was too weak to flee, too handicapped without his glasses to make it on his own.

Harry spent hours on hours on marvelling his bloody bad luck. But being at odds with reality changed nothing, hoping it would get better was futile.

Hope brought him only despair and chagrin. Hope would be eating him up until there was nothing left of him.

He knew that he was giving up and thus breaking his promise to Daryl, but he had tried and it wasn't enough.

So he chose to go out of this mess with one last good deed, sparing the younger boy pain of rape.

Harry was already feeling detached from the situation. His body moved on autopilot, his conscious thoughts coming to a halt. Harry knew what was expected from him.

Harry was distancing himself more and more from different fragments of reality... trying not to see, to smell, to feel, to taste...

Dan tore his clothes away, licked over exposed skin rubbing his erection on Harry…

I'm not here. I can blend it all out. I've done this a hundred times before.

Despite knowing what would happen the familiar pain of being penetrated with force and without any preparation yanked him out of his carefully built aloofness, ripping pitiful whimpers from his throat.

Opening a window of reality to touch him, to make him feel, see, taste and hear… he couldn't help the groan of pain at the onslaught of sensations.

He couldn't stand to look at Dan moving above him, Harrys own blood slicking his thrusts.

Turning his head he could see the blue eyed boy… could hear his sobs…

He really wished that he could pull his blanket of detachment back around him but it wouldn't come to him any longer leaving him unprotected and at the harsh mercy of reality.

It was too much. All of it was too much…

I'm sorry Daryl. I won't be able to keep my promise.

This is the end of the road.

Another harsh thrust had his whole body convulsing in pain, muscles locking up and he was screaming his lungs out.

All hell broke loose.