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
- 104
- 105
- 106
A/N: Sorry for the delay in updates. I will do my best to get them out faster.
The Starting Line
- January 3rd, 1992 -
“What do you mean the boys aren’t here?” Andromeda stood stiff and forbidding in the receiving parlor of Malfoy Manor. She wore a black skirt with a deep green sweater under a coat. Her hair was up in a tight bun. She had never looked more stern. As she aged, she looked more and more like her mother, a formidable woman indeed.
Lucius stood before her, leaning on his cane, a severe frown tightening his features. It did not matter how formidable she was; he would always be stronger. His eyes were icy as he stared her down. Voice tense with dislike, he said coldly, “It was my understanding that Draco had decided to take Harry to you. Was this not the case?”
Andromeda looked utterly shocked for a long second as realization set in. Worry crept in at the edges of her expression and voice. “We had a disagreement. I had assumed he returned here.”
Lucius snapped up his cane, holding it in a dangerous fist. Eyes narrowed dangerously, he called, “Dobby!”
The little elf appeared in an instant, cowering at the coldly furious expression on his master’s face.
“Find my son and ward. Return when you have their location.” The elf disappeared and Lucius pinned Andromeda in place with a sharp look. “When was this… dispute?”
“A few days ago,” Andromeda admitted softly.
“You had better hope the boys are safe and not stubbornly trying to survive on their own in London in the dead of winter.” Lucius took a step toward her, making her back-step unconsciously. “What was this disagreement about, Andromeda?”
The reminder of why she’d come made her straighten her back. Light hazel eyes hardened once more, her chin rose. “I would like to discuss it with the boys, or perhaps my sister.”
“My wife is unavailable and the boys are missing.” Almost purring, Lucius prowled closer. “You have already proven yourself neglectful. Will you really add to your offense by keeping silent?”
Andromeda turned her body with his motion so that she was always facing the dangerous wizard before her. Her hand tensed, ready to draw her wand from her forearm sheath. “We are in no condition to discuss something of such importance. Let us wait to hear the elf’s news.” Her head cocked. “Where is my sister, Lucius?”
“That’s really none of your concern, Andromeda,” Lucius said almost sweetly, but his mouth curled in a cruel smile.
The sudden pop of Dobby’s return broke their stare-off. The elf wrung his ears, but he stated clearly, “Master, the boys be with Mr. Lupin, sir.”
Lucius gave a cool smile. “You may go.”
Dobby quickly disappeared.
Looking relieved, Andromeda straightened her shoulders. “If you insist on doing this now, Lucius, then I suggest we move this to the parlor.”
Lucius inclined his head and, although the gesture was perfectly polite and proper, there was an edge of mockery in the movement that set Andromeda’s teeth on edge. She detested this man. She hated everything he stood for. In her opinion, he was not capable of one ounce of warmth or goodness. What was the point of power if it was only used to destroy? A man like Lucius would never understand that question. She felt uneasy that she would be talking about such a delicate and discomforting topic with him, but the magical contract made him one of the boys’ guardians and that left her with no choice. She sat stiffly, taking the beautiful love seat in the peach and cream parlor as hers. She straightened her back and lifted her chin, ready to do battle.
Lucius sat across from her, poised in his dark day robes, platinum blond hair neatly tied back and falling forward over one shoulder. One ankle rested on his knee, his cane leaning casually against his chair, and his pale, long-fingered hands resting on his lap. He sat in the delicate armchair as if it were a throne and she a lowly subject presenting a minor complaint about his kingdom. It was almost funny. Once he heard what she had to say, he would no longer look so poised.
She suddenly remembered how absolutely set against this course of action Ted had been. Her marriage had never been so turbulent, but she couldn’t stand by and do nothing when there was a chance she could alter the disastrous course those boys were taking. How could she live with herself if she did that?
Lucius watched, almost bored, as Andromeda gathered her thoughts. Her coat had been removed and folded gracefully over the arm of the love seat. She sat, wider of hips and larger of breast than her sister, but with an identical dignity. They shared the same thin wrists and long necks. The same angle of their features. And a flash of brutal memory overcame Lucius. Of swinging back to strike Bellatrix one last time, rage slowly boiling away to exhaustion with each blow he delivered, and seeing the image of that hated bitch melt into his pale and fragile wife…
Lucius had nearly fainted! He’d literally staggered sideways and vomited in absolute horror. Only the sound of Narcissa’s muffled weeping had brought him back from that black, cold edge. She had refused his help. Not out of anger but out of necessity. As soon as she could stand on her own, she had left him to enter enemy territory. To protect her sons. To correct his mistake. He had never been more in awe of Narcissa. Andromeda, for all their similarities, was nothing compared to her.
“I do not have all day,” he prompted sharply. He set his foot down and leaned forward, suddenly sick of this woman.
Andromeda let out a tight breath and began. “It has come to my attention that the boys may have developed an… affection for each other.”
Lucius lifted a single, elegant brow. “Affection?”
Andromeda swallowed thickly, tears threatening in her eyes. Her hands clenched over her knees, gripping the material of her skirt. How in the world would she explain this? “They’ve always been private. Secretive,” she began delicately. She looked just past Lucius’s head, staring into her memories. “I… A few years ago, I caught Harry trying on Nymphadora’s dress… And they’ve always been so affectionate with each other… I always brushed it aside, told myself they were just close, they’d been through so much, they were just little boys, surely,” Her eyes finally met Lucius’s and they were hard and determined. “Inside my heart, I knew something was off. That it was not the love brothers, even twins, shared. The boys…” She closed her eyes and took a breath before opening them again and saying clearly, “They are acting as lovers.”
Lucius’s narrowed his eyes dangerously, but he said nothing. He would let her have her say. Still, she must have sensed his growing tension for her chin went up and her eyes burned with inner fire.
“Draco all but told me to my face that they were engaging in promiscuous acts behind their locked door,” Andromeda admitted. Why wasn’t he saying something? Her heart thundered in her chest. Her palms were slick with nervous sweat. “Something must be done to save those boys from acting so inappropriately. Clearly their past has scarred them more than we knew. It is our jobs to correct this damage, Lucius. I propose we separate them. Not permanently. They can still see each other, but Harry should reside with me while Draco remains with you.”
Lucius exhaled carefully. Two and a half years ago, when his stolen son had miraculously returned to him, he would have accepted instantly and been grateful for Andromeda’s understanding. One year ago, when he had discovered just how dangerous Potter truly was, the boy’s very soul corrupted, he would have leapt at the chance, despite knowing it would earn him Draco’s hatred. Even one month ago, he would have agreed and conspired with Andromeda to arrange it so that the boys would have no choice but to comply. But now…
Lucius remembered Draco, just turned nine, with his head tilted back and his cupid-bow lips pressed flat. He had stared up at Lucius through intense silver eyes and said, “Look. I'm not gonna pretend I know what you're feelin'. I get that you lost your kid and want him back, but I'm not your kid. I lived a completely different life. I have my own ideas that aren't yours. That's not my fault, and it's not your fault from the sound of things, but that's the way it is. I don't want ya thinkin' that I've been brainwashed or somethin' by Dumbledore. I'm not with him, either. I'm with Harry, and Harry's with me. We're on no one's side but each other’s.”
Draco had laid his cards on the table the very first day they had met, and still Lucius had not truly understood.
Lucius had watched Draco’s disinterested reaction to the grandeur of Malfoy Manor and the rich history that came with it. However, Potter with his big green eyes, glasses, messy hair, and damnable black collar had thrown himself into the lessons, always respectful and obedient as a Pureblood son should be. Potter, with his awe and sincere devotion, had pulled Draco along with him, and yet Draco had never once lost sight that original declaration:
“I'm with Harry, and Harry's with me. We're on no one's side but each other’s.”
The one lesson Potter had failed utterly: training horses. In Lucius’s eyes, the boy was too submissive, too soft-hearted. It was a weakness. As Lucius’s father had done- and his father before him and his father before him on until the beginning - Lucius had tried to eradicate that weakness. Green eyes glazed, Potter had crumpled into a ball, sobbing, and Draco had intervened.
Voice cold as ice, his son had declared, “We’re done.” And without looking or confirming Potter’s position, he had crouched and grabbed a handful of Potter’s hair. The sobbing had cut off instantly, turning into nearly incoherent apologies.
“If he doesn't learn how to be firm, Draco, society will eat him up!” Lucius had berated him, almost blind with fury at Draco’s defiance. “I'm not trying to hurt the boy! I'm trying to prepare him!”
Draco had released Harry and stood, taking a threatening step forward. Once again the hard-eyed child from the Headmaster’s office had returned. He had stood toe-to-toe with Lucius, barely half Lucius’s height with eyes gone silver. When he had spoken, he hadn't yelled or raged. He had been icy calm, resolute. “Don't tell me what Harry needs, Lucius. Harry's mine, and I say he's done.”
Lucius had mistaken Potter for weak because he had weaknesses. He had seen Draco as the protector of a lost cause that would only take more and more from his son, giving nothing back, but Lucius had very quickly seen how wrong that was.
Draco’s near catatonic form had been crumpled behind Potter’s slender body, the boy’s arms outstretched in a shielding gesture. The pressure of powerful magic hung in the air and Potter’s green eyes literally glowed behind his glasses. His expression had been even more terrifying than Draco’s could be, almost inhuman, especially coming from a normally docile and sweet child, and Lucius had watched, horrified, as black smoke spilled from Potter's open mouth.
The smoke had solidified into a huge black snake with a dark green pattern going down it's back. Ten feet long and a good four inches wide, it had been one of the largest snakes Lucius had ever seen. The drag of the snake's scales on the bathroom tile had made the hair on the back of his neck and arms rise. The snake's head had lifted, waist high, with jaws opening to reveal long fangs. The snake would have killed them all had Lucius made even a single mistake in that moment.
Behind the deadly monster, Potter had stared at the snake, expression coldly determined, and had begun to hiss like a snake himself. Lucius had never felt so terrified as he had then, the sound bringing back the years he’d knelt at the Dark Lord’s feet, and claws of ice had gripped his lungs. From that moment on, he had never underestimated Potter again.
He did continue to underestimate their bond, however. He had worked in secret trying to find ways to sever it. He had found none. In fact, the more he had studied, the more certain he had become it could not be done, but even that had not led to him accepting the bond.
Not even when he saw them dance, moving as one in a way he had never seen before. Even he was awed by them. And, yes, he had witnessed last year’s Yule rendezvous. He had seen Potter wearing a deep green ball gown, hair tamed into near curls, lips and eyes accentuated with makeup. Had he not known Potter’s gender, he would never have doubted he was a little girl. Even Lucius had admitted, even if only to himself, that they were a beautiful sight, and he had said nothing about the photographs Narcissa kept hidden away.
He had not accepted it even when he watched Draco and Potter fence, fierce and bold, a unit even when acting as each other’s opponents.
Not when he saw them flying or riding bareback synchronized.
All of that and more had eaten slowly at his resistance, but the lessons he’d been taught about the repulsive act of two boys coming together as lovers were entrenched. What had finally broken through the last of his denial and his refusal to truly understand was the boys actions at Hogwarts…
With painful clarity, he remembered Draco sitting vigil, injured and exhausted but no less dangerous, over an unconscious Potter who had been flung down some stairs. Lucius had known good and well that he’d need to take no action for revenge, the look in his son’s eyes had told him Draco would pay back Potter’s spilled blood three times over. And as distressed as he was that his son was facing such opposition, he had never been so proud…
It was watching Potter flying during a Quidditch match with remarkable speed and skill, pushing himself past his limits, and knowing it was all for Draco - to impress him and earn his praise. Then watching the boy nearly flung off his broom and Draco, fierce and intelligent, flinging up the banner, protecting his partner, allowing Potter to take his rightful victory…
It was seeing Potter coming out of the Winter storm dressed in a wedding gown, standing strong when Lucius had expected him to collapse.
It was when he listened to Dumbledore’s report of Potter, a child of eleven years, willingly going into a battle even hardened adults would have hesitated to enter all because Draco had ordered it done. And then hearing that Draco had saved Potter at the last minute by brutally and yet cleanly removing the threat…
It was that exact moment Lucius had felt the wall crumble into dust in his mind and had seen with new eyes the truth of the love between Draco and Potter. In their actions, he had seen Narcissa, and so was able to finally recognize their bond for what it was. It went way beyond gender. Beyond age. Forged in sacrifice and blood, but also in trust and a deep, true joy. It was in that exact moment that he could see the reflection of his deep abiding love shining from their eyes.
Narcissa - who unflinchingly performed a powerful, sacrificial ritual to find their son. The son born from their union.
Narcissa - slender and beautiful, long hair falling over her pale skin, looking up at him with eyes as blue as the sky, as she first recounted the stories long forgotten by the world of a sacred bond: Dominus et delicae. She spoke of those stories several times over the years, always at night, often when she was wrapped in his arms and Lucius could not escape her words.
Narcissa - eyes shinning with pure love as she watched the boys dance in private.
Narcissa - taking Potter by the hand and leading him gently down the path of the Wife. The pride in her eyes when he excelled and thrived. He had taken to those duties as if born for them, and Lucius could so clearly see the future Narcissa envisioned.
Narcissa - disappointment and loneliness in her beautiful eyes every time he had been unable to believe with her. Still, she had never given up trying to reach him. Not once.
Narcissa - beaten and bloody and unrepentant. There was no hesitation in her as she went back to the House of her childhood. Willing to fight for that future she saw. Willing to die for it.
Lucius had never not loved Narcissa. He had simply become so entangled in his own fears and desires that he had not realized he had turned his back on that love. By shutting Narcissa out, by dismissing her input, he had unintentionally chosen to fight alone, and in so doing had abandoned her to do the same.
Looking back, Lucius realized they should have struggled together and clashed until they were able to stand on the same ground once again, side-by-side. He loved her deeply, so deeply and completely that only a blessed few would be able to understand. And yet Lucius knew Draco and Harry would be able to understand such a love. Yes, he could admit it now, the same unwavering bond burned between the boys. The way Lucius and Narcissa were meant to be, so to Draco and Harry were meant to be.
And here sat Andromeda, her voice the voice of the fears and doubts that had ruled him even just a month ago. Instead of a thick rug and elegant coffee table, he saw the long stretch of bloody terrain of terrible mistakes that sat between them. Terrain that she had not yet crossed in order to get to where he sat now. And he almost had sympathy for her.
Was it possible to bridge that gap? Was it possible for her to break free of those entrenched lessons of childhood, the fears and doubts, and to find faith without having to walk that bloody road with her own two feet? Was it even worth the effort of trying? In a few weeks time, Lucius expected their custody contract to be dissolved and a new one formed in its place with Black as the co-guardian of the boys.
Lucius, seeing the resemblance of his wife’s features in her face, stood slowly to his feet. His expression of disdain faded to be replaced by frank honesty. “I doubt you will understand what I am about to tell you, but I find myself desiring to say it regardless.”
Andromeda shot to her feet to meet him head on. She twitched her wrist so that her wand dropped into her hand, and braced herself against his wrath that she would level such a profane accusation against his son and Heir. Arguments to convince him of her sincerity already began marshaling behind her lips.
“I will start with this.” Lucius set his cane centered before him and placed both hands over the snakehead. His feet and stance were planted so firmly it was as if he was rooted to the spot and would never be moved. “I have been aware of the boys’ unorthodox relationship from day one when Draco demanded unequivocally to share the same room and bed as Harry.”
Andromeda’s mouth feel open in utter shock, mind wiped empty as all her arguments were blown away.
“I was raised to detest same-sex unions as you were. I still do not believe they are acceptable.” He raised his hand to forestall the outburst of relief he could see blooming across her features. “However.” He set his hand back down over the head of his cane and stared at her intently. “I have since come to accept that the boys are outside that rule.”
Andromeda sat heavily on the couch. She felt completely numb. Lucius Malfoy of all people, the staunchest, most conservative Purebloodist, was implying that he accepted the boys as lovers? It was unfathomable!
“I will say one final point and then I will ask you to leave.” Lucius snapped his cane up into one hand, eyes burning silver with an inner fire. “I appeal to your sensibility as a witch. You are Pagan and I suggest you remember it! You are no ignorant Muggle nor were you raised shackled by puritanical Christian law. You have felt great and wondrous Power moving through the world around us! A Power greater than us.” Passion rose in his voice. “Draco and Harry are bound by such a Power. Their minds and souls, their magic, are connected in a way we cannot possibly understand. Try to imagine it, Andromeda. Their bond is such that a physical relationship is almost superfluous! To impose on them the same expectations that we would on those who do not possess such a rare and magical bond would be to act against our Faith.”
Tears rolled silently down Andromeda’s cheeks, but she was not weeping. In fact, she seemed completely oblivious of their existence as she stared up at him, an expression of almost incomprehension on her face.
Lucius lowered his voice, his eyelids falling to half-mast to lessen the impact of his silver gaze. “Consider, Andromeda, they may yet find themselves attracted to females and will welcome one or two into their circle. As strange and untraditional as that may be, we must remember our true Faith. We are beholden not to society or even tradition, but to a Power far more mysterious and awesome than mundane social norms. I have spoken with Draco. He has assured me that he understands his duty as the Malfoy Heir. Harry, as well, has shown nothing except respect toward our history and has evidenced true faith in our Ways. I have been given no reason to believe they will fail in their duty as Heirs to their Noble Pureblood lines. I have, therefore, come to believe their relationship sacrosanct, and I assure you my wife shares my beliefs on this matter.”
Turning with a snap of his robes, he put his back to her and to her weaknesses that uncomfortably mirrored his own. He had done his best. For Narcissa. He owed Andromeda nothing more. “What you come to believe is your own accord. I trust you will see yourself out,” he said cooly and strode from the room, allowing her no response.
…
Draco, Harry, and Liam had spent all day moving the little Liam owned into the new apartment. It had a very similar floor plan to the apartment that Drey and Jess owned: open kitchen that flowed into a living room, a spacious bath, and two bedrooms. Thank god for the elevator. Even with it, Draco felt bone tired. Harry looked tired as well, although his - contentment - glowed warmly between them. They were still over the moon about being reunited with Liam.
“Good night,” Liam called from the couch as Draco took Harry by the hand and led him to bed. It was a bit early, but they could both use a good night’s rest.
“Good night, Liam. I love you,” Harry answered, sincere and sweet, looking over his shoulder, a smile tugging at his lips.
Liam gave him an answering smile.
Draco closed their door and crawled into bed. They were borrowing Liam’s spare sheets and a comforter from Jess at the moment. They could go shopping for their own stuff later.
Harry hummed softly and tucked his head comfortably on the blond’s shoulder. He rubbed Draco’s arm slowly. “Love you, Draco,” he whispered.
“Love you, Harry,” he answered back, barely above a whisper. Exhaustion pulled him under.
… Sound hit the air, deep and powerful, with repetitive booms. Draco covered his ears and staggered away from the wall. Slowly he realized it was barking. Eyes wide, he tried to estimate how big the dogs had to be to make a sound like that. What the hell? Was that even possible?
He took another look around the corner to see a massive grey paw fill the entire doorway with claws, black and deadly. Quirrell staggered back, casting a fire spell that made the paw yank back, but the barking continued even after Quirrell slammed the door shut.
Draco’s heart thundered in his chest as he tried to focus on what was in front of him. Harry’s - terror - sent adrenaline zinging through his system. * Harry! * he mentally called, an instinctive reaction as his boy’s fear cut through him. He’d take one more look, try and figure out what that bastard was doing and then he’d go after Harry.
Draco pushed his head around the corner one last time only to see Quirrell standing inches away staring directly down at him. A demented smile twisted the man’s face. The smell of garlic wrapped around him, hitting Draco’s senses like a punch. How the hell had the man gotten so close without Draco smelling him sooner?! Draco’s eyes went wide in horror.
“Well, well, well…” Low and menacing, Quirrell spoke without a single stutter. A faint red glow seemed to come from his eyes. “Finally caught the rat that’s always scurrying around, following me, watching me. Thought you were clever, did you, boy? You’re going to wish you had left well enough alone…”
Draco bared his teeth, backing up and giving himself some room. His magic coiled tightly, waking up from deep in his core. His panic began creeping in as he realized: Harry needs me; I’m in deep shit!
“What are you going to do, Professor?” he drawled, heart pounding as his vision went crystal clear, his body and mind primed for battle. He hadn’t been looking for a confrontation, not so soon, but like hell he’d back down now.
- and interposed on the memory another ran simultaneously over the first: Brendon, sharp-eyed, confident even with a gun to his head -
Eyes glinting silver, Draco’s voice dripped with mocking disdain, “Kill or hurt a student? I’m Draco Malfoy! The whole world knows my name. Something happens to me, your cover’s blown.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that.”
- just like Brendon, threatening his would-be killer, buying time, trying to control the situation -
Quirrell laughed, high and insane. The sound was so foreign, so inhuman, it literally made Draco feel cold. His heart beat so hard it seemed to pound at the inside of his throat. He clinched his fists, trying to steady his screaming nerves.
“Tell me something!” Draco demanded, stalling. He dug his nails into his palm, cutting deeply, getting his blood flowing. “Who’re you talking to when you’re all alone? I’m betting Voldemort. Do you do it through a mirror? Something else? Well, I’ll just bet Dumbledore will love going through your things to find out, traitor. And he’ll just love to hear about how you’re always creeping around this corridor. Finally found a way to get the door open, huh? Fat lot of good it did you,” he finished with a sneer.
- BANG! -
As Quirrell snarled and lunged forward, Draco felt his arms get yanked viciously backward before he could fling the blood. Ice speared his insides and, with terrible understanding, Draco realized he should have run as soon as he saw Quirrell so close. His stupid instincts had led him to hold his ground instead. Terror opened up a pit in his stomach. He was helpless.
- Brendon’s body toppling even as blood, hot and metallic sprayed the wall. -
Shit, god no, not again…“Fuck,” Draco gasped, staring in horror as Quirrell’s face seemed to blur for a second. A monstrous mouth, wide and gaping, blazing red eyes… Draco bit back a whimper and flinched back, his arms hitting the wall hard.
Quirrell stood over Draco, his expression cold, eyes burning red, and cast an agonizing pain spell. “You’re powerful, boy,” the monster whispered softly, caressing the words almost seductively. “Murderous. Dark. You’ll be a great weapon in my hand.”
Draco went limp, crumpled on his side with his arms bound behind him and blood trickling out of his mouth. His blond hair had long since fallen from behind his ears, fanning across his cheek, darkened and damp with sweat.
- Brendon dead, mutilated, lost to them forever -
“I’m temped to see if Cruico would win a scream from you, but that would leave evidence behind.” Quirrell crouched and gently stroked Draco’s hair, moving it away from his face so he could see it better. “You won’t be telling anyone about this or me, I’m afraid.” He smiled darkly. “But do not fear, I will not forget our time together, Draco Malfoy. I have great plans in store for you and your inborn power.”
A spike of pure agony split Draco’s head open as if it had been brutally cleaved in two. Draco bared his bloody teeth in a vicious grin. He fought the invasion with everything he had, his body going into a full-blown seizure, but he lost…
Draco sat bolt upright, gasping for breath and soaked with sweat. The room was pitch black. Harry was next to him, saying something soft and soothing. Draco sat, arms wrapped tight around his body, and just shook, teeth chattering.
Quirrell could have killed him then. The bond between Harry and him would have shattered. If Harry survived it, he’d have gone insane. His life would have been forfeited. His gorgeous green eyes, the vibrant sea of his emotions, all would have gone tragically dark. Why? Because Draco thought he was stronger than he was. He thought he could control any situation. Fuck! Brendon had thought the same and he’d ended with his head exploded right in front of them! Just a sack of raw, bloody meat, no different from anyone else! Draco had to get stronger. He had to do better. They had only made it out of that shit-storm because of fucking luck!
Oblivious to Draco’s feverish thoughts, Harry did his best to soothe the blond. It took a good hour before Draco was calm enough to go back to sleep, and Harry lay awake long after, running his hand through Draco’s sweat-damp hair as he continued to hum.
Since Hogwarts, Draco had seemed bitten down and hard, the way he had been when they were still slaves in the Hold, but he’d seemed okay. He wasn’t. The trauma of everything was far from scarred over. Between the flashback and Draco’s night terrors coming back, Harry realized that Draco was far from recovered, and he made a silent vow to himself to do whatever it took to help him.
…
- January 4th -
They didn’t have much food in the new apartment, so cereal was all they could have for breakfast. They didn’t have milk, so Harry had run three doors down to borrow some. Liam chewed thoughtfully. He sat in jeans, boots, and a sweater, hair pulled back at the back of his head, dark blue eyes even darker than normal. He didn’t like Draco’s insistence, but he understood it. Still…
“You sure?” he asked carefully, knowing what Draco would say but still having to ask.
Draco sat with his hair tucked firmly behind his ears, grey eyes bright silver. “Yes.”
Liam nodded and chewed for a minute. “What about Harry?”
Harry froze in place, his attention riveted to the blonde - hope determination.
Draco stirred his cereal, not really seeing it. His expression was so serious it made him look five years older. “I’ve thought about this a lot.” He set his spoon aside and faced Harry directly. “You’re vitally important.” He held up his hand at the instant look of denial on Harry’s face. “You’re vital,” Draco repeated, “because you can heal us when we take damage. If you were to get hurt training, hurt like you got when you were shoved down those fucking stairs, you wouldn’t be able to heal me if I needed it. I could take permanent damage or even die before you came around enough to help me.”
- horror fear - “Draco…” Harry’s voice shook, tears filling his jewel-bright eyes.
Draco gave him a grim little smile. “But I know how badly you want to get stronger. Just like I do.” He took a deep breath. “So I thought it might be better for you to train with Liam while I train with Drey. He can teach you how to wield a gun and maybe some throwing knives. It will let you keep some distance, but also allow you to do damage.” Draco reached over and put his hand over Harry’s where it rested on the table between them. “It’s still dangerous, but it’s the only thing I could think of. Liam can teach you a few hand-to-hand moves, too. In case you’re ever grabbed or something.” His hand tightened almost painfully around Harry’s. “But I want you to stay away from close combat as much as possible. I want you to use magic and guns and whatever you have to to take out the enemy from a distance.”
“Yes, Draco.” Harry bowed his head as he submitted to Draco’s decision.
“Good.” Draco released him and turned his attention back to Liam. “Well?”
Liam pushed aside his dirty bowl and sighed. Fact was he hated it. Violence was the only way Liam knew. It was a normal part of daily life. He had grown up on the streets of New York from about the boys’ age, but oddly enough thinking about the boys growing up like that set him on edge. He wanted better for them. That meant jack shit, of course. Reality wasn’t one to give you what you wanted.
“I get it. This ain’t America, though. Gun laws are really strict. We’re gonna have to find some place abandoned to practice shootin’.”
Draco nodded. “Start with some hand-to-hand for now. Stay in town because I may need Harry.”
Liam frowned as Harry went pale. They really didn’t like this plan.
Draco continued on, ignoring that. “I’ll talk to Remus. If we could get a portkey that will bring me to him if I need it, you guys could go further out. Or maybe Remus can teach us to Apparate.”
Liam had to say it. “Draco, just because Harry can heal ya, doesn’t mean you should be reckless. The goal is to stay in one piece as much as possible so you can keep on fightin’.”
Draco gave a sharp nod. “I know. I’m not going to hurt myself on purpose. I just want to be extra prepared. Accidents happen, especially since I’m just learning.”
Liam relaxed at hearing that, so did Harry.
Draco stood and came around the table. He was dressed much like Liam - jeans, sweater, sneakers. He bent and kissed Harry’s cheek before stroking his hair. “I’ll see you later tonight. I’ll call if I need you.”
Harry leaned into the caress, eyes closed. Liam smiled. The affection between them was really adorable.
As he passed, Draco set his hand on Liam’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze, and then with a wave, he slipped out the door and went to train with Drey.
Liam really didn’t like it. Drey was skilled, no doubt about it, but she was also a loose canon. She loved fights and blood way more than was good for her or for Draco, but Draco had made his decision. He turned to face Harry, who was watching him with a solemn expression, and forced a smile. “Well, guess that means it’s you and me today.”
“Don’t go easy on me,” Harry said, voice low and serious. He sat straight, confidence and determination practically oozing from him as he held Liam’s eyes. This was not the same timid little boy Liam had once known. “Please, Liam.”
Liam’s smile disappeared and he gave Harry a nod of respect. “Yeah. Alright.” Taking a deep breath, he said, “Let’s do this.”
…
Remus took a deep breath. He ran a hand through his hair. It was much shorter than he usually wore it, but he had long ago stopped trying to hide the scars that decorated his face. The faint white lines that bisected his right eyebrow and the long one that ran under his eyes and across the bridge of his nose were nothing compared to the deep puckered scars that indented each cheek. The Auror who was his escort stood patiently at his side and did not try to rush him, but it didn’t take more than that breath before Remus was reaching for the door handle and walking through to the room on the other side.
Sirius was bone white. His hair was long and streaked with grey. It had a dull, coarse look, but it still had a natural wave, almost a curl. He’d been scrubbed clean and now wore jeans, boots, and a thick woolen sweater despite the layered heating charms that made the room a warm 80 degrees fahrenheit.
“He hasn’t said much since we brought him to the Ministry early this morning. A few fits of giggles and some weeping, but he’s mostly been quiet. It’s like that with them at first. The shock of not being in that place,” the Auror had told him. “A familiar face might help or he might freak out. Don’t be shocked if he does. It will take time before he’s stable again.”
But the smile that lit up Sirius’s face was the same one Remus remembered from ten years ago. “Moony!” He came off the cot he’d been sitting on, one foot propped up on the thin mattress, and strode across the room to wrap Remus in a tight hug. “My god! You look so old!” he said with a laugh.
Remus smiled and hugged him back just as tightly. The door had been shut behind him, the Auror on the other side to give them some privacy. Remus pulled back and held tight to Sirius’s shoulders. “It is so good to see you,” he said, voice thick with too much emotion. “I missed you, Siri.”
Sirius shrugged him off and paced to what served as the bathroom.
The toilet and sink were set into a little alcove at the back of the room. It was only as big as necessary and it didn’t have a door or curtain so that it could be easily seen from the entrance. There was a small window with artificial sunlight filling the small square panes (they were too deep underground for true sunlight to reach them). And there was the single cot. Remus would only be able to take three or four steps across the width of the room and about the same from the entrance to the toilet. It was small, but it was clean and warm. Most importantly, there were no Dementors.
Sirius filled a small plastic cup with tap water and brought it back to Remus, his smile still in place. “I’d offer you something stronger, but I know how you don't like to drink. Sit! Tell me all about your travels.”
Remus accepted the cup, still elated to be in Sirius’s presence and that his friend seemed okay. Better than Remus had ever expected. He sat on the cot and took a sip. “I traveled around Europe for most of it. Didn’t cross any big oceans until I went to New York. Stayed in America for about a year before returning.”
“America!” Sirius went to the window and looked out for a second before turning back around and practically flinging himself next to Remus on the cot. He slouched with his back to the wall and brought up his foot to hook it on the edge of the metal frame. “Must’ve had girls all over you, with your sexy British accent. Hear American girls go nuts for that.” He laughed, wild and free.
“Not really.” Remus shook his head, smiling.
Suddenly, Sirius fell silent. His expression became moody. “Thought it was another dream. But you came.” He fingered the thin sheet next to his hip. “How’d you pull this off? How long’s it been?”
Remus felt his heart crash into his stomach. He bent and set the cup on the floor before turning his body to face his friend. “It’s been just over ten years, Sirius.” His voice softened, became gentle. He spoke slowly and watched Sirius carefully. If the information became too much, he’d stop. “Harry and Draco, his bonded twin… They discovered Peter, Sirius. With the new evidence, the Wizengamot has agreed to give you a fair trial.”
Sirius launched himself at his friend. He grabbed Remus violently by his shirt, nearly choking him. “Where is he!? Where!?” he screamed.
Heart thundering in his chest, Remus gripped Sirius’s skeletally thin wrists. “He’s dead! He’s dead, Sirius! He’s dead!”
Sirius flung himself away from Remus and paced the floor. As Remus caught his breath, Sirius muttered and flung his arms around in wild gestures, almost completely unaware of Remus still in the room. Tears in his eyes, Remus let his friend wear himself out. When Sirius finally began to calm down, he looked at Remus in almost child-like bewilderment.
“James…?”
The question broke Remus’s heart. All he could do was helplessly repeat, “He’s dead.”
Tears fell from Sirius’s eyes. He staggered back, arms wrapped tight around his chest as his back hit the cell wall. There was a knock on the door, warning Remus his hour was up. Remus got to his feet, crying with his friend, and pulled Sirius into a tight hug.
“You are going to get a trial. The truth will come out, Sirius. You are not a Death Eater. You did not betray James to Voldemort. You did not kill Peter.” Remus pulled away to look into Sirius’s pain-filled, pale blue eyes. “You’re going to go free, but you have to keep it together. James is gone, Sirius, but Harry is here. He’s here and he needs a godfather. James’s son needs you. So be strong, Sirius. We’ll be together soon. You hear me? You have to stay strong.”
The door opened and the Auror stood waiting, wand in hand.
Remus forced a big smile onto his face and hugged a silent Sirius tightly one more time. Before he turned, he pulled a photograph out of his pocket. Harry with his thin-framed, oval glasses and messy black hair, sat on the couch in Remus’s cottage. He wore a dark red sweater and slacks. He had a shy smile on his face and he lifted a thin hand to give the camera a small wave. Sirius took the photo and stared at it dumbly.
As Remus followed the Auror out, Sirius said not a word, and the door shut behind them with a terrible finality. Remus felt his hands clench; he had to get Sirius out of this place!
“The Mind Healer assigned to him has been cleared to speak with you,” the Auror informed him.
Remus wiped his face, erasing the path of his tears, and straightened his shoulders. “Yes. Thank you. I appreciate it.”
Remus learned a lot of what he already knew from the Healer. Sirius had always been unusual. He had quick mood swings even as a teen and was famous for his impulsive behavior. Turns out, that saved him while he was in Azkaban. That and the fact he was an Animagus. Apparently his brain was wired to withstand really highs and lows and so was able to bounce back from the effects of the Dementors a little better than others.
They still had a negative effect, Sirius would linger in his lows a lot longer than he would have had he never gone to Azkaban, and his highs won’t be quite so high any more, either, but with treatment and a little help from potions, he should be able to lead a relatively happy and normal life eventually. Remus had literally wept at the news. Now they just had to make sure Sirius stayed out of that place.
The trial was scheduled for the day after tomorrow on the sixth. Lucius had pledged his support and Dumbledore was working hard on his end, as well. With the Healer’s verdict that recovery was possible, Remus dared to have a little confidence that Sirius would soon be freed.
Chapter end.
Sorry for the delay in updates. I promise to keep trying my best to get chapters out there. That being said, how many of you would be adverse to quickening the story pace and me adding more summary? For example, how many are okay with a summary of Draco and Harry’s training instead of “seeing” it?
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Freedom Bound in Chains