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Chains	By : LilithConnor Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 2710 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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- 1
Chains.

Why, this is hell, nor am I out of it.

I tell thee I am damn�d and now in hell.

Draco shifted his weight carefully, trying to ease the
chafing around his neck. The fingers in his hair tightened painfully, informing
Draco that his master did not approve of the movement. Draco submitted
instantly, trying to ignore the pull of the iron collar around his neck. He
could feel eyes upon him, mostly disgust, though some gloated in his public
shaming. Only one gaze filled with pity. That damn Granger girl. The part of
Draco that remembered Malfoy pride resented this � how dare a Mudblood feel
pity for him? � but the rest of him had to hold back tears at how far he had
fallen. His father had always insisted on Draco learning the correct way for a
Malfoy to behave in public, and crying was expressly forbidden. No weaknesses.
At least his father could not see him now, was not subjected to seeing Draco�s
very public hell�

***

For Draco, the nightmare had begun in that last battle,
watching his regal father topple to the ground as Snape, the traitor, stood
victorious over him. Draco had raced to his father�s side but Lucius was gone,
leaving only a noble husk. He had been vaguely aware of Snape kneeling beside
him, but Draco had no anger left for Snape�s betrayal. Somewhere in his mind, a
numb voice noted that at least his father had died in battle, at the hand of
someone he respected, and that Snape seemed as grief-stricken as Draco. He was
rewarded with a brief epiphany into the relationship between his father and
Snape, but it had seemed irrelevant next to the crushing weight of his grief.

Wrapped up in his private world of mourning, he was
oblivious to the monumental events occurring around him. The death of Dumbledore
and Harry Potter�s final, fierce duel with Lord Voldemort passed him by, as did
the jubilation when the Boy Who Lived became the Man Who Killed Voldemort. It
was only when Draco was dragged from the body of his father to be flung at
Potter�s feet that the reality had come crashing in. He had stared into his
nemesis� emerald eyes and felt the beginnings of terror.

�Well, well�Draco Malfoy.� Potter had said with a cruel
smirk far removed from his usual Golden Griffindor grin. �No�he�ll not go to
Azkaban with the others. Keep him in Grimmuald Place for now.�

Three months he had been locked in that dark house, his
wand burnt to ashes, kept far away from any contact with living beings. His fear
had bred in that darkness and begun to swamp him as he had contemplated what his
fate might be. Despite the collapse of his future, he did not want to die;
neither did he want to be imprisoned for the rest of his days. The solitary
confinement to the house was driving him out of his mind; he dared not think
what a cell would do to him. The Dementors might be long since destroyed but
there were other kinds of guards, other kinds of torture�Draco had refused to
cry, even at the loneliest and most terrifying hours of the night. He was all
that was left of the Malfoy�s � he had to carry on with dignity.

When they finally led him blinking into sunlsunlight, it
was to find that the whole world had been turned upside down. They say the road
to hell is paved with good intentions. This one was paved with the very best.

After the carnage of the Second War had been cleared up, a
kind of peace had settled over the wizarding world. However, most of the
Ministry had been killed or imprisoned � Potter was taking no chances with the
few remaining Death eaters � and those left in authority were leaderless and
afraid. Tentatively, they had asked Potter for help, and he had responded with
suggestions and recommendations that his close associates � namely the Order
members � be placed in positions of power. All very sensible; these were the
most trustworthy and reliable people in this new age, so Hogwarts was given to
Hermione Granger and the Minister of Magic position was conferred on Ron
Weasley. Naturally, these two consulted Harry every time there was a decision to
be made. Potter grew to enjoy power, as so many had before him, and slowly his
suggestions became commands, and almost without anyone noticing, Potter took
control of the entire wizarding community. The other wizarding nations
automatically deferred to him and so the Boy Who Lived progressed from the Man
Who Killed Voldemort to the Lord Who Ruled All.

Draco had collapsed in hysterics when this was explained to
him. It was too bloody ironic.

They had taken him to a great mansion, Potter�s personal
residence, where his council sat and his will was made real. Escorted into an
enormous hall, he had seen the long table -�reminiscient of Hogwarts in a sick
way � then lifted his eyes to the raised dais, and the black marble throne that
sat above all else. His knees had shook at the sight of Potter, imposing in
black robes, sitting regally on that throne, his only symbol of power the wand
in his lap. His guards had had to half-drag, half-carry him the length of the
hall, and thrown him before the dais, leaving him to a private judgement. It had
been him and potter, and Draco had not been able to look up.

�Scared, Malfoy?� laughed the new Dark Lord.

An old memory of a student duel floated through Draco�s
mind. So long ago now�

�At least you have the sense to kneel before me.� Continued
the voice, much deeper than his predecessors, yet just as cold. �I am almost
expected defiance�but you are too afraid to even look at me.�

That stung through his fear and Draco lifted his head
angrily, poised to lash out in scorn. The expression on Potter�s face turned the
words to dust in his mouth.

Hunger.

�You look good on your knees, Malfoy.�

Sweet Merlin, no. Oh, please, no.

�But then�you�ve always looked good. For all those years in
school you looked good�you were always tempting me�� Potter was watching him
closely, watching the colour drain Draco�s face and the fear creep across his
features as he began to understand. �And now you�re in my power. Now, you belong
to me.�

Potter was rising, stepping down and�no, hell no,
Draco could see his erection through his robes�he blinked fiercely, driving back
tears, this could not be happening�

�Never, Potter.� Draco rasped, overcoming his fear as
Potter closed the distance between them. Draco was not averse to having a male
lover, had done so frequently in the past, and was even prepared to admit that
once or twice he had thought of Potter and wondered�but this was no proposition.
Draco would be no man�s sex toy. Ever. �You�ll have to kill me. I�d rather die
than belong to you.� He spat, trying to put conviction into the words.

Potter grinned, resembling a particularly bloodthirsty
shark, and raised his wand.

�Crucio!�

Draco screamed, writhing in agony, back arching as he
scrabbled at the air. The pain was too intense, sweet Lord it hurt and he
was going to die, he had to be dying�I don�t to want to die, I want to live,
oh, please, I want to live�abruptly it was over and Draco lay panting on the
floor.

�You�re lying, Malfoy.� Potter�s face was too close, too
damned close. �You don�t want to die. You want to live. You�d do anything to
live.�

Draco stared in those mocking eyes and could not lie.

�I�I don�t want to die.� He admitted brokenly.

�So, you have a choice.� Potter�s pupils dilated, the black
swamping the green. Slytherin green. Why had Draco never thought of that? �You
can submit yourself to me�or I can kill you. And we both know you don�t wan
d
die. So it�s a yes or no answer, Malfoy. Do you belong to�Draco turned to stare at the man who had held him as a
slave. Harry was smiling sadly, clothes still in disarray, flushed and
dishevelled. Draco stared at the body he knew so intimately, at the face of the
most powerful Lord the world had ever seen.

At the lips of the man he couldn�t live without.

Freely, willing, Draco approached the throne and knelt
between Harry�s legs, resting his head in his master�s lap.

�Harry.� He whispered as familiar fingers began to stroke
his hair. Draco closed his eyes, smiling, and did not see the light of triumph
in Lord Potter�s eyes.

Some chains are forged far stronger than iron.

Here will I dwell, for heaven is in these lips,

And all is dross that is not Harry.

&n">
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Chains