Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Freedom Bound in Chains	By : TaintedSensibly Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 58477 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 13
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Harry Potter characters. I did not make money from this story.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
Abandoned

Harry sat glassy-eyed and naked on a loveseat that had been set against a far wall of the exhibition room. He was exhausted from the healings and falling into shock over everything that had happened. As for Draco, his back was healed, but his knees throbbed and bled from kneeling on the scrapes he'd earned from the kickball game, his right arm bore a bruise the shape of a man's hand, his jaw ached fiercely after being nearly dislocated, his head was hot and swollen above his ear where he'd been punched, and his mouth was still busted. It was background noise, nothing that required Harry's energy to heal. More dangerous was the exhaustion tugging at his mind.

Turning his attention to Harry, Draco smoothed the boy's dark hair away from his still damp face and kissed his cheek. “Close yer eyes and rest,” he said softly. “I'll be back real quick.”

Despite knowing the clock was ticking, that Harry would collapse soon, that they had to get away, he had to take one last look at their enemies. With heavy feet, he went toward the stage. As he came around the couch from behind, he saw Luongo.

The man was on his back, half sliding off the couch. His face was swollen and splotchy, a dark red and purple. His eyes were open and bugged out, the whites veined in poisonous yellow. He wasn't breathing.

Draco stepped closer and used a finger to open the deadman's mouth just enough to see specks of blood on his tongue. Draco's blood. A cold feeling of satisfaction stole through him. He stepped away from the corpse and went around the stage to the opposite couch. The thug, who'd been jacking off to the whipping, had a face reddened from suffocation and whitish-yellow foam on his lips. Draco looked at the man closely, but there was no blood on his face or near his mouth.

Stepping back, he thought hard. Reluctantly, he let his eyes drop to the blood-coated, now limp dick. There were no cuts that he could see, so how did his poison get inside? But then again, Draco's rapists probably didn't have cuts there either and they had died, too. Crouching for a closer look, an epiphany struck! The hole at the top! That's how the poison got in. Nodding his head, he stood and moved to Harry's attackers.

Cold hatred burned his veins as he stared at the men. The one Draco had whipped had landed face-down next to the bench. His head was turned to the side and looked swollen and splotchy, eyes spiderwebbed with poisonous yellow. He was a match for Luongo.

The other was on his back. White-yellow froth coated his lips, his eyes were bugged more than normal and blood-shot, his face was dark purple and swollen, and his body was contorted from seizures. Clearly, the more poison was injected, the more violent the death.

Draco understood things now. He was poisonous, but only when he charged his blood with that icy sensation that spilled from deep inside his center. If his blood or any other bodily fluid, like spit or sweat, entered the body of another person in any way at all, they were dead. If Draco's poison touched the skin of another person but didn't enter the body, they would merely be very sick, like the times Raymond had broke him open with his fingers.

Satisfied that the men were dead and he had more answers, Draco trudged over to Harry and took his hand. “Come on, Harry. Time ta go.”

Harry stumbled to his feet and moved robotically after Draco as the blond pulled him forward. They went up the stairs, checked the way was clear, and then went back up to the apartment. Draco left Harry outside the door while he dragged a sheet from their bed and covered Brendon.

He bit his damaged lip hard enough to make it bleed again. His hands shook and he felt queasy as the dark blue sheet turned black where it soaked up blood. Gagging, he hurried back to Harry. His boy was growing paler by the minute and he was breathing a bit quicker as they passed through the living room. Draco laid him down on the bed and told him to take a nap.

Fighting through a fog of exhaustion, Draco got dressed in his warmest clothes. Once that was done, he hurried to Brendon's bedroom. He'd never been in there before. He had no idea what to expect.

White carpet, pale gold walls, and apricot and peach bedding wasn't it. It was gentle, whimsical, and pristine. There was very little furniture: a dresser, a nightstand, and the bed. Simple, elegant, and surprising, and it was Brendon's.

Draco clenched his fists and rubbed them roughly against his burning eyes. He had work to do.

Determined, he moved to the closet and threw it open. There were shoes and clothes hanging in neat, color-coded order. he ignored all that and went for the bags up on the shelf that was set a foot below the ceiling. He had to drag a kitchen stool in to reach it, and even then he had to stand on tiptoe, but he managed to pull down two suitcases, a backpack, and a duffel bag.

He wished he could use them all, but he knew better. He discarded the suitcases and grabbed the backpack and duffel. A quick rummage through Brendon's closet and he pulled out two thick, wool sweaters. One was dark green, the other was black. He left everything else, shutting the door on Brendon's bedroom forever.

He left the bags in the hallway and raided the office. Here it was all dark woods and blacks and reds. The walls were wall-to-wall bookshelves and a safe sat on the floor under the massive desk. He grabbed the maps from the desk drawer that Brendon had used in his lessons sometimes. Then he crouched in front of the safe.

He was poisonous, but maybe his poison would hurt more than humans. It was worth a try. He thought of Harry being touched, of cruel hands making the sweet little boy bleed. Almost immediately he felt the ice seep out of his center. He quickly swirled his fingers around his mouth and applied his poisoned spit to the safe door.

It took almost thirty minutes. He sat there chilled to the core by the icy power, sweating and panting from exhaustion, as he traced the outside edge of the safe all the way around. Finally, fingers trembling and vision going dark, he could pull the door off. There were papers inside, but there was also money. Draco left the papers and grabbed all of the cash. He stuffed it in the bottom of the backpack under Brendon's sweaters.

Then he moved back to their bedroom. He pulled out Harry's warmest outfit and laid it on the bed. He folded two sweaters each, four t-shirts and two pants each, five pairs of socks they could share, and four underwear into the duffel. Both bags were now pretty heavy, especially because he was almost ready to collapse.

“Harry. Ya need to get dressed.” Draco shook the boy by the shoulder. Harry's eyes fluttered, but that was it. * Harry. Wake up. Now, * Draco ordered with more bite.

Harry's eyes opened blearily. Draco got him sitting and into his clothes. Then he rushed into the kitchen. He grabbed the biggest bowls he could find, ladled soup up to the top in both and brought them to the bedroom. Harry was sitting on the edge of the bed, blinking slowly.

“Eat. As much as ya can.”

Draco felt too sick to eat, but he knew that was stupid. Food would be very hard to come by as soon as they left. He didn't bother with a spoon and began drinking straight from the bowl. The delicious taste of beef and vegetables hit his tongue and made his heart beat faster, made him sweat as the mirage of figures just outside of his vision flickered through his mind. He ignored it until he thought he really might be sick.

When he put the bowl down, it was almost empty. Good enough. Harry, though, had finished his completely. Draco gave him the rest of his bowl and went to fetch their shoes. As he entered the living room, his eyes darted away from Brendon's sheet-covered body. He snagged his shoes and hurried into the stairwell. He stuffed his feet into the sneakers and hurried down to the exhibition room. Harry's shoes and jacket lay by the bench and the two deadmen who were beginning to stink.

Jittery, eyes darting around the room unable to settle, Draco grabbed both before returning to Harry.

Harry sat, sleepy and full, as Draco put the boy's shoes on and tied them snuggly. Standing, he swayed and had to brace himself on the foot of the bed before falling over. Shaking his head hard to clear it of fog, he grabbed the slightly heavier duffel bag and ordered Harry to take the backpack. The boy slid off the bed and did as he was told without a word, his emotions still swaddled in cotton.

Harry kept his eyes on the floor or on Draco, which was fine. Draco still couldn't bring himself to look, either. Silently, they made their way through the living room and back into the kitchen. Harry held the backpack open and Draco filled it: peanut butter, bread that he compressed as flat as it would go, a can opener, a butcher knife, two serrated steak knives. Then he opened the duffel and stuffed in four cans of tuna, two cans of baked beans, a bag of beef jerky, and a box of twelve protein bars that he found in the pantry. Draco then went under the sink and grabbed a handful of trash bags. He also dug through the drawers for as many matches and lighters he could find, but he only found one of each. He put both in the duffel and zipped everything up.

“Alright, Harry. Let's go.” With a grunt of effort, Draco swung the heavy duffel onto his back. His legs shook as he bent to help Harry put on the too large backpack. The little boy staggered sideways before catching his balance by leaning forward. “You good?” he asked, voice tight with effort.

“Yes,” Harry's soft voice answered him. His head was lowered. Because of the effort to carry the backpack or trying to avoid Brendon, Draco didn't know.

For some reason, Draco couldn't help locking the apartment behind them as if it were a normal day. He also locked the steel door once they stepped outside.

There was a huge and busy crowd of brightly colored people filling the sidewalk trying to get into the club. The loud, muffled music only just registered. He'd grown so used to hearing it at night. Ducking his head and holding onto Harry tightly, he slipped the keys into his jacket pocket. He knew he'd never come back here, but he still couldn't let them go. Brendon's had been the only safe place he had known in a long time.

A few people tried to talk to them, but this was New York. Draco ignored them and they let him go. Once they turned the corner, he offered Harry a small, tired smile. It wasn't even midnight yet. Only two and a half hours had passed since the kickball game and yet everything had changed.

Well, not everything...

Draco shot a glance at the little boy trudging along beside him. No matter what it took, he'd keep Harry safe...

That would never change.

x x x

Harry watched Draco's back as they walked slowly down Ave of the Americans. It was cold. His panting breaths clouded in front of his face, making it damp and cold. The backpack was heavy. It pulled at his shoulders and made his back hurt, but it was smaller than the big duffel Draco wore. Draco was nearly bent in half. Every step grew slower and slower. Harry bit his lip and moved up beside the blond.

“Where're we going?” he asked quietly, hoping not to make Draco mad.

Draco's face was pale and he kept his eyes on the ground. He was breathing hard, shivering and sweating. After a long pause, the answer came to Harry's mind. * Central Park. So big. Can disappear there. Keep Harry safe. Got to make it to the park. *

Harry nodded his head. Things had been fuzzy and grey, but he was awake now. Draco had saved them. Again. Draco had gotten everything together while Harry slept. Harry had to help him now. He knew where the big park was that Draco wanted to hide in. They had gone there once before; he could help!

Looking around, he saw that they were halfway there. The last time they went it had taken half an hour to walk, but with the bags and walking so slow Harry knew it would take longer. Putting his head down, determined to help, he held Draco's hand tightly and plodded forward, pulling Draco behind him.

It was still dark when they finally passed the Central Park marker. Draco was leaning more and more on Harry, and Harry's legs shook with the strain, but he wasn't stopping. Not until he found a hidden place among the winter-bare trees and shrubs. He led Draco to the right, toward the Hallett Nature Sanctuary. He kept his eyes open and focused, dragging a stumbling Draco along behind him.

They passed under whispering tree branches and crunched through the dry leaves and slush. It took several long minutes before Harry found an area shrouded by bushes. He practically collapsed and Draco fell on top of him. Wiggling, legs on fire, Harry slipped from his backpack and the pile. He arranged the bags and maneuvered an unconscious Draco so he was lying propped against them. Then, feeling darkness pulling him down, Harry curled around his Draco and let sleep claim him.

x x x

Draco jerked awake, a spike of pain searing through his body as his muscles protested. Weak morning light filtered down through the bushes and trees around them. He was lying against the bags with Harry practically sprawled on top of him. The boy's wild, black hair tickled his nose and he brushed it away from his face.

They were in the park. He remembered hitting the street, remembered putting one foot in front of the other, and then... nothing. He had no idea how they made it to the park. He looked down at the boy sound asleep on his chest and smiled. Well, he had some idea. Running his fingers through that wild, soft hair, Draco relaxed back against the bags.

And that's when it hit him. Eyes squeezed shut, he let the tears come. Brendon had been strange, but only because he'd been like Draco. He'd understood in a way no adult ever had. He'd taken them in, given them freedom. He'd taught Draco and treated him like an equal. It physically hurt, the loss of him. It burned like acid in his chest and gut. Brendon was gone, but not by some whim of fate. He'd been murdered! Murdered by the Lucchese Family. Draco held Harry tighter. Brendon had been his and they had taken him, they had hurt Harry, and he would have revenge!

Taking a deep breath, he scrubbed the tears off his face and shook the boy's shoulder. “Harry, ya did good, but we need'ta get gone. Come on, Harry.”

It was cold, the ground felt like hard ice. Draco was shivering slightly, but it wasn't too bad. Not with all his clothes and Harry curled around him. But it was getting later in the day. Winter or not, there were always visitors to Central Park. They had to get to the North Woods, more specifically the Ravine. It was wild there with only a few rough paths. There were creeks where they could gather water and little rocky hills that hopefully would have a nook they could hide in.

Harry groaned and blinked open his eyes. His hair was ruffled like a bird's feathers. It made Draco smile as he tried to smooth the black tuffs down. Climbing stiffly to their feet, Draco stretched and helped Harry back into the backpack. He got the duffel back on somehow and they began to trudge through the woods.

Draco half expected questions. Like, what are we going to do? Or, what about food or shelter? But none came. Checking the bond, Draco felt a soft hum of – trust acceptance. It made Draco's chest tighter and even more determined to figure this out.

It took all day. Hunger and fatigue clawed at both of them before they found a spot that Draco liked. There was a creek with a two foot waterfall about fifty feet away. The trees and bushes were thick here. A ten foot rocky wall was at their backs and their gear fit in a crevice.

Draco pulled out some bread and peanut butter, the can opener, and one can of beans. Harry was quiet, sitting at his side, their shoulders resting together. Draco was equally silent. He had no idea what they were going to do. Brendon's loss, rage and hate and grief, it all still fogged his mind.

Once the food was done, they went to the stream and drank, then went behind a tree to do their business. It was cold. Their faces and hands were frozen through, but their bodies were warm enough from the winter clothes.

Draco dug through the bags until he got out a big black trash bag and the big sweaters. “Come here,” he rasped, flapping his hand impatiently at Harry.

Harry moved immediately into his arms. Draco got the sweater around them both, and then somehow the second one, too. Then they wiggled like worms crawling into the black trash bag like it was a sleeping bag. The plastic would help them keep in their body heat. It would also help keep them dry from the dew that collected in the night or if it happened to snow or rain.

It should have been funny. Two boys trapped inside one sweater and then another, struggling to climb into a trash bag. It wasn't. Things were too serious. They were both still hungry and even through the clothes and the plastic, it was still cold. Every breath in froze their lungs. But it wouldn't kill them. They'd just have to endure it.

At least until Draco thought of something better.

x x x

Harry knew Draco was unhappy. It was like an itch against his skin that never went away. He did everything he could to be helpful. He set up their meals and tried to make them nice with the little they had. He stayed quiet and attentive. He helped helped put their makeshift bed away in the morning once it was warm enough to crawl out of the cocoon, but mostly he sat silently.

He watched and waited and tried to find any little thing he could do to help as Draco sat and stared off into the woods with dark grey eyes. He'd done this in the Hold, too. Sit for hours, just staring. It unnerved Harry, but he was terrified of interrupting and making Draco mad. So he sat huddled and quiet and kept watching for any little thing he could do to help.

x x x

Draco thought hard.

They had money. But it was their age that was the problem. They were too little to be able to walk around without being questioned. If they got caught, the Lucchese Family would find them and kill them, or ignorant cops would split them up and put them in foster care.

When he'd first been taken to the Hold, Draco had talked to the kids a little. He'd heard all about foster care. Most of the kids in the Hold came from there. Dumb cops assumed the kids ran away or were stolen by their birth families. They were write-offs. No one came looking for them. And the Hold wasn't much worse than some of the places those kids had come from.

No. Draco wouldn't let the cops get them. And he wasn't about to let the mob get them, either. But the mob was also their only means of survival. The mob was made up of criminals; they had connections and the means to live under the official radar. Plus, they were caught up in messy police stuff. They shouldn't have time to mess with Draco and Harry, but clearly the Lucchese felt differently. So the mob wasn't a choice after all.

And that is where Draco stalled. It was a loop of no answers, no vision of victory.

“In any case, I'm affiliated loosely with John Gotti, the Gambino Family Head. They call him the Teflon Don because the Feds can't make charges stick. He's your biggest ally if Amuso or Luongo come after you,” Brendon's words coming back to him.

Could he go to John Gotti of the Gambino Family? The Gambino's territory was based in Queens. He'd have to leave Manhattan and cross the East River. Brendon had made him memorize the route on a map of the city just in case. It would be a half-a-day's walk. He'd need to use the Ed Koch Queensboro Bridge Path. Not that he knew that, since he couldn't read. He knew only the path marked out on the map. He'd count streets and follow the yellow line Brendon had marked.

“Always be prepared, Draco.” Brendon's sharp blue eyes had stared into Draco's for a long second before crinkling into a smile. “But I think you already know that.”

Draco's fists clenched. So he could go to Queens and throw himself on Gotti's mercy. But what if that mercy didn't exist?

A soft touch on his arm had him looking over. Harry was kneeling next to him, head bowed so that they wouldn't make eye contact. The boy had half a power bar smeared with peanut butter wrapped in a compressed piece of bread in his hand. He also had a can of tuna fish open ready to share.

Draco blinked and realized it was almost night; the temperature was dropping. He shook himself and offered Harry a smile. “Thanks, Harry.” He took the offering and raised an eyebrow at the second little sandwhich Harry had made.

Ducking his head, the boy obediently ate it in three quick bites.

Draco sighed. Harry need more food than this. He needed warmth and safety. Draco would have to try Gotti, but if things went bad, he didn't want Harry there.

The sharp memory of Harry's screams and cries as he was raped, Harry's panicked breathing and the burning painpainpain through the bond had Draco breathing hard and almost ready to throw up. He curled around his knees and tried to breathe through the flashback.

Harry's - anxiety worry unhappiness - grounded him as the little boy's hands fluttered, desperate to do something, anything, to help.

“I'm okay,” Draco rasped. “Let's get some water and get in bed before it gets too cold.”

“Yes, Draco,” Harry answered softly, green eyes bright with worry and big in his pale face.

Draco took his hand and led the way to the creek. Tomorrow; tomorrow he'd make the trip to Gotti and see what their options were.

x x x

“I might not be back until tomorrow morning,” he explained.

They were sitting across from each other. Draco held Harry's cold hands in his own. He'd really struggled with the decision of leaving Harry or taking him with him and hiding him somewhere closer to Queens. But he didn't know the area at all. And he could move more flexibly alone. It sucked, he hated it, but he felt Harry was safest here, hidden from the world.

Harry didn't argue. He wouldn't do that, but he stared at Draco with wide eyes, tears rolling down his cheeks, his emotions all but screaming - unhappiness despair fear.

Draco gently freed one hand and used his fingers to wipe Harry's face. “You did nothing wrong. I'm not leaving ya.” His hand firmed on Harry's jaw, forcing eye contact. “You're mine and I'm coming back. Just like I promised in the Hold. I'll always come back to ya.”

Harry gave a low cry and reached forward. Draco pulled him into his lap and held him. They sat like that until Harry calmed down a bit and then Draco pulled away. He put some money in his pocket and stood as firm as he could.

“If I'm not back by dark, it means I probly won't be back 'til morning, so don't wait up. Get in the bed like I showed ya. Eat as much as ya can of the food. When I get back, I'll have a plan and we'll be getting food somewhere else,” Draco ordered, staring hard into Harry's green eyes. Cause we can't keep camping out here, he left unsaid.

Draco couldn't resist Harry's doe-eyed look. He crouched and gently cupped Harry's face. Their lips, cold and chapped slid together roughly. Draco licked and sucked until they were warm and wet. Grinning, he pulled away, gave one last look to the flushed little boy and started his trip.

x x x

Harry watched Draco leave, and in spite of it being a sunny morning, it felt as if all the light in the woods was leaving, too. Things grew dimmer once the blond was out of sight. Harry felt smaller, colder. Crying, he gathered the sweaters, tugged them on, and wiggled back into the trash bag. He curled up there, shivering. Green eyes staring blankly, he felt the dusty cupboard close in around him...

… something tickled his arm. Instinct made him yelp and swat it away. Heart hammering, he calmed and felt hot guilt puddle in his empty stomach. He'd hurt it, the spider. “I'm sorry,” he whispered. “I'm sorry.” He said it again and again, arms tight around his burning belly. But he was alone...

Breakfast. Cooking the eggs, watching the bacon. The smell. It made him drool and he kept having to suck and swallow and it made his head dizzy, but he couldn't mess up! Had to focus. He turned too fast, wobbled on the stool. Aunt reached out to steady him and Harry looked up with wide eyes, already crying.

Her face was twisted in disgust and she looked at her hand as if it were crawling with bugs. “Filthy freak! Can't even do simple things! Might as well throw you out in the trash! Disgusting thing!” She scrubbed and scrubbed her hands at the sink, hot steam rising from the water, her hands turning pink, the harsh smell of soap rising above the food. “Don't look at me, Freak! Get in your cupboard! I can't stand the sight of you!”

Sobbing, scratching his arm where she touched him, he slunk into the dark cupboard and pulled the door shut behind him...

Working in the flowerbeds outside. Women walking in front of the house. Keeping his head ducked, but unable not to look. The way they whispered and stared and pointed. The looks on their faces. Even they could see it. He was nothing. He was Freak...

Uncle passing him off and walking away without a backward glance. Trash. He was trash... A dog crate. The roar and pressure of massive engines, the pitch darkness. The terror, the constant terror, and being so alone, knowing he was trash, unwanted, disgusting. Knowing it...

He was supposed to be adopted. Going to a mum and dad, Draco had said, but they must have seen him. Saw him and knew he was a Freak. They didn't want him. So they took his picture to see if anyone else wanted him. But it was okay. Okay because suddenly there was a Draco...

Draco with silver eyes who looked at him. Draco saw him. He wanted him. He wanted a Freak and even called him Harry. Like he was a boy, not trash. Draco... Draco hurt and Harry was somehow able to help him. He was able to help! Only Draco touched him. Made his skin sing. Made it feel so good. Draco... Draco... Draco...

Draco was gone. And no one had wanted him. The men who looked at the kids. They all flinched away from Harry. They saw him, saw his skin, his face and eyes. They saw him. Harry saw it so clearly. The knowledge in their faces. He was Freak. He was trash, disgusting, nothing. So why? Why did Draco want him?

Harry didn't know why, wouldn't ever understand, but Draco wanted him. Held him, touched him, kissed him. Took all of him and made him Draco's. And Draco was gone.

Harry was weak. He couldn't help Draco. Not when it had happened. Not when they came. They called Harry names. Took Draco away and hurt Harry... because Harry was trash! That's what you did with Freaks. Hurt and hate Freaks...

But Draco still wanted him. Why? Why did Draco want him? Dirty disgusting Freak. Draco took him to a safe place, to Brendon, but Draco got hurt. Hurt so bad! He got shot in the shoulder. Blood everywhere! His back... The skin was gone! Bone and muscle and blood blood blood. But Draco still said, “Harry first.” Harry first then Draco. Why, Draco?

Draco so hurt in the Hold. Always hurt. Always coming back to Harry. Promised. A promise to a disgusting Freak. Why? Why? …

Freak remembered. The pain in his shoulder and arm as Uncle held him so tight. Held him so their faces were close together. The smell, sharp and ugly from Uncle's breath. The red face and harsh blue eyes. “You're a curse, Freak. A curse. You'll always be a curse, and the people around you are always going to be the ones to suffer. You should have died with your disgusting parents. The world would be a better place without you in it. It doesn't need a freak like you.” ...

Draco always hurt. The BANG! and Brendon ... terror horror ... Brendon was broken. Was this the curse? Was Harry doing all this? Was it his fault?

He couldn't take it. Scrambling out of the trash bag, he got to his feet panting. It was getting dark. The sun was setting. The woods were draped with fog and grey shadows and Draco was gone. Gone and not coming back. There were no Draco's for Freaks. It was impossible. And maybe that was a good thing. He was a curse and Draco would keep bleeding if he was around.

Head tilting back, Harry howled, grief and insanity pouring from him in a piercing cry of pain. He sobbed and cried and screamed. But still there was no Draco.

He was alone.

Chapter end.

A/N: I actually made myself tear up at that last bit. It was very emotional for me to write. I hope I was able to touch the heart of the reader as well.
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Freedom Bound in Chains