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Chosen Chains	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 12196 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I am not making any money from this story.

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Chapter Four�A
Culmination of Desires

�� Harry
paused in the act of pulling himself out of the lake when he saw that Ron and
Hermione were two of the people waiting for him. Then he completed the pull,
but he made sure that they saw the boredom on his face and the utter lack of
urgency in his movements.

�� They can�t make me do anything. They�ll
never make me do anything again.

�� Hermione
would probably think that was strange, since she thought he needed orders to
live. But Harry had a very definite idea of who he should allow to command him,
and it didn�t include any of the people around him. It probably included no
one, since no one seemed to want the job.

�� Harry
grimaced and made sure that no trace of his thoughts showed in his expression
when he glanced at the other woman waiting behind Hermione, who must be
Covington from Malfoy�s description. He couldn�t afford to show his personal
weaknesses to someone who wouldn�t hesitate to take advantage of them.

�� Madam
Covington, I assume?� he said, and saw the slight flicker of surprise around
her lips as her smile faded a bit.

�� Mr.
Potter,� she said. �Have your investigations borne fruit?�

�� What a
strange way of putting the matter,� Malfoy�s voice said in an effortless drawl,
and then he came up and stood at Harry�s shoulder as though he belonged there.
His hand even rested on Harry�s back with a brief, violent press, as if he was
telling Harry silently to let him handle this. Harry stared at him from the corner
of his eye. Malfoy chose to take no notice. Instead, he went on speaking in a
slightly dry voice that said they had been partners for years and invited Harry
to share the joke. �We are not trees. We are a highly skilled Potions master
and former Auror, looking into a private matter for the sake of private
loyalties, rather than at the request of the Ministry.�

�� Pardon
me,� said Covington, with a bow that Harry thought would have done credit to
Umbridge when she was trying to impress someone. �I had thought you would not
have known about this chance but for the Ministry.�

�� Malfoy�s
nostrils flared a bit, but Harry wasn�t sure why�unless maybe Covington was
hinting that Malfoy had spies in the Ministry or some other way to hear about
the riddles and the task of finding the key to the wards. He might even, for
all Harry knew. But Harry really wouldn�t have known about this without the
letter from the Ministry.

�� That meant
he could take the lead in the conversation without any self-consciousness, and
Malfoy could stay silent. We actually do
make good partners in that one way, Harry admitted to himself. �We don�t
owe the Ministry a debt because of that,� he said. �Not when you sacked me and
irritated Malfoy because you said that you might shut down Slytherin House.�

�� Malfoy
tensed behind him, then relaxed again. Harry pressed hard against his hand,
trying to send a message without words. She
has to know that you�re interested in Slytherin by now. It�s not a weakness to
say so.

�� We
obviously have different interpretations of the word �debt.�� Covington
inclined her head in a shallower bow. �Have you found what you sought?�

�� Why should
we tell you, when it would be more useful for us to strike a bargain with the
Ministry?� Harry asked, and then waited for her reaction.

�� Covington
pursed her lips as if tasting something sour. Then she shook her head slowly.
�I am not empowered to make those bargains.�

�� Then you
understand that we can say nothing until we meet with someone who is,� Malfoy said,
and made the words sound smart and sophisticated and polished, as if he were
handing over chunks of pure silver. Harry gave him a sideways look of
admiration that Malfoy unexpectedly met. �Come on, Harry. Pick up your robes
and shirt and let�s discuss what we should do next.�

�� Harry
blinked, then picked up the clothes with a frown. Why did he call me Harry? To make the others think we�re closer than we
are, I reckon. I just wish he hadn�t done it without asking me.

�� You�re not going to do that,� Hermione said in
a piercing voice, stepping forwards so that she blocked their way to the
school. Covington was particularly happy to let her do it, Harry noticed. Interesting. �I know that you found
something, or you wouldn�t have a reason to search the lake, and I want to know
what it is.�

�� She still thinks she�s entitled to know
everything I do and say, Harry thought, baring his teeth at her. His magic
crackled up around his sides and arms, this time manifesting as a faint blue
mist that wouldn�t be noticeable to anyone until they stepped closer to him.
Then they would notice it by force. Probably
wants to take notes on my actions and report them to some Healer friend of
hers.

�� What a
mindless bitch you are, Granger,� Malfoy said, in a tone so bored it took Harry
a moment to realize what he had said. �Of course
we could search places and not find the clues. Do you think that because
the lake is a more unusual place, it�s automatically the one where Dumbledore
and Severus would have hidden the key?�

�� Hermione�s
confident look faltered. Ron was the one who flushed and said, �See here��

�� I don�t
have to,� Malfoy said, with the kind of quiet voice that Harry suspected
probably made his customers listen to him when they wanted some impossible
potion and he refused to brew it. �I don�t have any obligation to you. You�re
only two teachers at Hogwarts among many, and my contemporaries at that. You have no seniority.� He gave Harry a
half-smile. �And if Harry has any obligation to you, he hasn�t told me that.�

�� Harry
swallowed through a dry throat and held his head up. The pleading look in Ron�s
eyes still had the power to touch him, maybe because Harry had argued with him
less directly than with Hermione.

�� But he
couldn�t pretend that the conflict between them had never happened, which
seemed to be what they wanted. They could come to him with apologies, and maybe
then he would listen. This wound was
too deep to be papered over, though.

�� Yes, I
don�t think I do, Draco,� he said. The name was less difficult than the words,
or watching Ron�s eyes shut as he looked away, a deep sigh rattling up from his
chest. �They used to be my friends. They lost the right to call themselves
that, and they haven�t made it up to me yet.�

�� Hermione
trembled and then abruptly broke out into words that Harry hadn�t thought she
would use, since she preferred to keep their row as private as possible. �I
don�t think that what you do is wrong!� she shouted at him. �I think it�s wrong
for you. With all the manipulation
and abuse you went through, the way adult men told you to do things that were
good for you and you did them�you still haven�t sorted out what you feel about
Dumbledore, and you probably haven�t gone and talked to his portrait yet,
either�you still think that what he
did was excusable, and you�re still messed
up in the head��

�� Harry felt
pure panic storm through him. Ron already knew what Hermione would say, of
course, but for the Ministry representative and Malfoy to hear would mean the
end of his life as Harry understood it.

�� He
gestured, closing his hand into a fist. A bolt of pure magic, blazing-white,
leaped from his fist and struck Hermione in the throat.

�� She
stopped, her hands flying up as she clawed at her neck. Then she coughed. She
coughed three times, and a large, curved piece of brass fell out of her mouth
and landed with a clang on the grass.

�� Then she
did it again, and more brass came out, and silver, and gold.

�� Harry
licked his lips. He was shaking, but more in control than he had been since he
saw Ron and Hermione waiting for him, because he had caused this, not someone else, and if the silence was
terrible, at least they were staring at him in terror rather than because he
was cowering from it.

�� Think
about what you say,� he told her. �When you do, then you can speak in something
other than carved metal again.�

�� He turned
and made for Hogwarts at a fast, smooth walk, because he thought someone would
stop him if he began to run. His hands were sweating, and he could feel the
magic working down his face as grains of something that turned out to be salt
when he wiped it away.

�� He was so
caught up in his own emotions that it took him long minutes to realize Malfoy
was walking beside him, all the way, as if they had practiced this before, his
hand on the small of Harry�s back.

�� Harry spun
around to face him when he thought they were beyond the point of being heard
and asked in a low voice, �What the fuck do you think you�re doing?�

�� Malfoy wore
a faint smile. Harry would have felt reassured if it was amused, or
contemptuous, or any of the other easy feelings that he had expected Malfoy to
experience around him.

�� It was
speculative instead.

�� And curious.

�� Harry
didn�t bother to hide his shudder. If Malfoy thought being curious about him
was the route to a deeper alliance and solving these riddles faster, he could
shelve the notion, because the last thing Harry wanted was Malfoy prying into
his life.

*

�� It never
would have occurred to Draco to make Granger�s own words literally choke her,
and he wasn�t sure that he would have had the power if it did. But it was
appropriate and amusing, and Potter had acted without that much provocation,
compared to what Draco would have thought it would take.

�� Potter grew
more interesting by the minute.

�� He kept his
hand in place on Potter�s back until Potter turned around, pinned him with a
gaze that was obviously meant to intimidate someone less strong of will than
Draco was, and whispered, �What the fuck do you think you�re doing?�

�� Draco took
his time about answering. He examined, in a leisurely fashion, the way Potter�s
hair curled, the brightness of his eyes against his pale skin, his long legs
and the lean muscles in them, and the flicker of magic that still snapped
around his hands. Draco could feel the buzzing aura of that power raising his
hair to stand on end, although he stood at least two feet from Potter now.

�� By the time
he finished the inspection, Potter was shifting like a horse with a stranger
handling its feet. Draco looked into his face as he gave him the answer. He
felt that Potter deserved at least that much from him.

�� I think
that I�m confirming our alliance in the eyes of others,� Draco said. �What would
they think if I dropped my hand from your back the minute we stopped speaking
to them? This way, we can encourage them in false beliefs profound enough to
influence the way that they interpret everything else we do.�

�� Potter
gritted his teeth. �I understand that,�
he said, as if Draco had been planning to accuse him of a lack of
understanding. �The problem is, why did you choose that gesture to establish
that suspicion?�

�� The
gesture of the hand on your back?� Draco asked, and moved his hand in as if he
would reassume the position.

�� Potter�s
power formed a series of bright blue spearheads, lining his back and pointing
straight at Draco. Draco nearly gasped aloud as a new vision came to him, of a
potion that might allow him to achieve the same effect.

�� Potter was
an artist, a creative spirit, in the way he used his magic if nothing else.
Trouble was, Draco thought, sneaking another glance at his face, he didn�t mean to be so. It wasn�t something
consciously planned or controlled. He just lashed out with his magic and let
the impulse of the moment guide him.

�� Why does
this bother you so much?� he asked. �And have you ever tried anything to
control your magic? Perhaps you should, before we face another enemy like the
water-snakes. We cannot depend on the coincidence of your Parseltongue to save
us every time.�

�� Potter�s
gaze grew diamond-like with loathing. Draco wondered if it was the person
asking the questions or the questions themselves that he resented, but given
that he had been able to get along
with Draco before this, if during limited periods of time, he thought it was
the questions.

�� And isn�t that interesting?

�� I�ll get
it under control,� Potter said, between teeth that he seemed determined to wear
down with their grinding. �Now. Don�t you think we should look at the riddle
and see what it is? We�ll want to solve it as quickly as possible, before the
Ministry comes up with some new way to make us investigate.�

�� Draco
nodded and followed Potter into the castle, more than willing to show that he
could be reasonable. When Potter started up the entrance hall towards the doors
of the Great Hall, though, Draco took his arm and steered him towards the
dungeons, where Severus�s rooms were.

�� Potter
shied at the touch, but seemed to yield when Draco put pressure on him and thus
dragged him along more firmly. Draco glanced at him and saw that his eyes were
closed, lashes fanned out on his cheeks as though he were nothing but a child
asleep. His breathing had softened and slowed down, too.

�� Then he
opened his eyes, realized Draco was watching him, and jerked away so hard that
he broke one of Draco�s nails and stung all his fingers. Draco refused to show
that it hurt, holding Potter in a firm gaze instead. He knew the source of
Potter�s strange behavior was here somewhere, and he would like to ferret it
out if possible.

�� I�m coming
with you,� Potter said, and bounded off ahead of him, seeming to welcome the
darkness of the dungeons as it wrapped around him.

�� Draco
clucked his tongue as he followed. Yes, there was something strange here, and
he thought it all�Potter�s difficulty with controlling his magic, his odd
relaxation when Draco touched him coupled with violent rejection of those
touches a moment later, his refusal to answer questions�connected.

�� I have to find the binding thread before I
can begin to unknot it, however.

�� Severus
would want to know why he should unknot
it, when Potter was no more than a somewhat annoying waste of time. Draco could
have said that he was doing it to fend off boredom or to make sure that his
ally didn�t do something embarrassing in front of their enemies, and Severus
would have accepted either of those.

�� But the
truth was simply that he was interested, and in the silence of his head, he
didn�t see why he needed any other motive.

*

�� You
survived the first battle? Wonderful news, my boy.�

�� Harry bowed
his head in front of Dumbledore�s portrait and said nothing. He was still far
too aware of Malfoy, who was on the other side of the room in front of the
closed door. He could feel the way his fingers had clamped down, how they had
resembled, for a minute, the cuff of the chains Harry needed, and the imaginary
blast of cool air that had passed through his body in response.

�� I would
not have imagined that you could pass through without a scratch,� Snape�s
sneering voice said from behind him. �It is highly probable that Mr. Malfoy did
most of the work, is it not?�

�� Harry
turned his head, glad for a challenge that he could respond to. �As a matter of
fact, the trap was snakes, and I still have Parseltongue.�

�� Snape
looked properly stunned. Harry turned back to Dumbledore with a feeling of
gratification, only to see Dumbledore shaking his head.

�� Will you
never make peace?� he murmured, as if in appeal to powers that Harry couldn�t
see or understand. �Am I doomed to see the two people who did the most to bring
about our victory in the war always quarrel?�

�� That isn�t
Snape,� Harry reminded him. He didn�t care if his voice sounded brittle and
bitter, the way he knew it did�enough that Malfoy, moving up beside him, gave
him a quick look of wonder. �It�s a reflection. And we�re not here for you to
lecture us. We�re here to read the riddle and the word that unlocks the wards
and hear anything that you can tell us about either.�

Malfoy�s arm briefly touched the
small of his back, the place where his hand had rested when he escorted Harry
up to the castle. Harry arched away from it and turned, holding out his hand.

Malfoy looked at it politely. �We
can shake, if you want,� he said, �though I thought we knew each other enough
by now not to require it.�

�I want the bubbles that we found
in the ring,� Harry said, and his voice was soft and polite and couldn�t crack
steel, the way he wanted it to. Alienating Malfoy while he still held the
riddle and the first keyword wasn�t smart. But Harry intended to leave as soon
as he could, walking away from Hogwarts and talking a long, hot shower in his
own bathroom to wash off the sting of contact.

�� Until he
could go back home, though, his lodgings in Hogsmeade would have to do.

�� As you
wish,� Malfoy said, and dropped both bubbles into his palm. Harry stared at his
face, but Malfoy looked calm and guileless, if a bit bored. Harry shook his
head and started to examine the bubbles. They looked like they were made of a
hard, transparent plastic, but they felt soft and whispery against his palm,
like foam.

�� We hid the
bubbles in Severus�s ring?� exclaimed Dumbledore. �Wonderful! I never would
have thought to look there.�

�� The ring
hardly mattered to me,� Snape drawled. �That would be the reason we used it for
the deception in the first place.�

�� Thus the
point of my remark, my dear boy, that I never would have thought to look
there.�

�� You
included me under that heading,� Snape said. �I would have remembered the
insignificance of the ring to my former self and thus thought to look there, because I retain my former self�s memories
of placing emphasis on meaningless objects in order to distract the eye of an
enemy watching.�

�� Harry
turned the bubbles over and managed to focus on them to the exclusion of the
conversation between the portraits. He thought he would go several kinds of mad
if he tried to follow it.

�� The bubbles
had subtle, hidden hinges on the side. He ran his fingers over them and
muttered a complaint when he realized that they wouldn�t simply spring open.

�� Let me
try,� Malfoy said, and reached out, his hand covering Harry�s where it gripped
both bubbles. Harry tried to pull back, but he didn�t go far enough or fast
enough, and the bubbles bounced around between the closed area of their fists.
Harry opened his mouth to shout.

�� The bubbles
rolled over of their own accord, and then the tops came off. Harry stared down,
and didn�t even try to hide his astonishment.

�� Ah, yes,
I�d forgotten that,� Dumbledore remarked. �All of the people who find the
secret have to have hold of it at the same time, or the bubbles won�t open. You
both found it, so you both have to hold them. I think we arranged the hiding
places of the other secrets along the same lines,� he added thoughtfully, �but
I can�t remember. I don�t mind saying that the lack of those exact memories is
an inconvenience to me.�

�� Malfoy was
still clasping Harry�s hand, and staring at him. Harry wrenched his hand away
and let the bubbles fall to the floor. He didn�t think it mattered if they
broke, and he knew the parchment they contained would flutter harmlessly.

�� The gesture
distracted Malfoy and made him look down. Harry picked up the parchment that
had fallen near his feet, leaving the other twist to Malfoy, and looked at it
randomly. He wasn�t sure why, but he had expected to see the word that would
unlock the wards.

�� Instead,
he�d got the riddle, and he saw at a glance that it was considerably longer and
more baffling than the first one that Dumbledore and Snape had given them. The
writing was large, and careful, block capitals.

�� UPON FOUR LEGS IT GOES IN THE WORLD,

�� UPON EIGHT LEGS AND TWO TAILS IN OUR LEGEND.

�� CROSS THE SKY WITH THE SUN AND YOU WILL NOT
SEE IT,

�� BUT MORNING AND EVENING IT FLOATS IN BEAUTY.

�� The last
line was isolated from the rest of the riddle and in urgent, small, cramped
letters. Look unto the last.

�� Harry
turned the paper over and cast a charm that ought to reveal any other letters
hiding behind the ostensible ones, or invisible lines that would alter the
message and make it more meaningful. Nothing happened, of course. That was the
riddle they had received, and it was the riddle they would have to deal with.

Then he looked up at the portraits
and made sure to shake his head at both of them. �I think you both liked
driving people mental in life.�

�Let me see,� said Malfoy, and
passed the parchment he held to Harry as if it were the natural thing to do,
while he took the riddle. Harry bristled, but it was hard to have a row with
someone who refused to acknowledge the existence of the thing causing the row,
so he looked at the keyword with a grunt.

�� Sorting Hat. Harry rolled his eyes and
wondered if the Ministry had tried something that simple as a password.
Probably not. They would have decided that it was complicated and proceeded to
more and more arcane guesses, assuming they even knew of the existence of the
wards.

�� Strange,�
Malfoy said. His eyes were glinting when he looked up, though, and he resembled
someone who thought this was a good thing.
Harry studied him warily. He had had one partner like that during Auror
training, someone who took that �thrill of the case� nonsense seriously. He
would hit Malfoy over the head if he had to, just as he�d hit Trainee
Belladonna, to get him out of the way. �What can have four legs in reality and
eight legs in legends? Wizarding legends generally change to reflect the
reality once we know about it.�

�� Right,� Harry couldn�t help but say,
thinking of how many stereotypes there still were of him as a flawless hero out
there.

�� When we
know about it, I said.� Malfoy�s voice rose to a slightly higher pitch, the
only sign that Harry was irritating him. �What are your first theories about
this riddle, Potter?�

�� Harry
stared at him. Malfoy looked prepared to settle down to a debate of several
hours, and then go right out and fight the battle to the death that they�d
encounter if they solved the riddle tonight.

�� I have
none,� Harry said. �I�m going back to my rooms, getting something to eat and
some sleep, and then sleeping some more. I�ll join you in the morning.� He
turned towards the door, hoping that Malfoy would have the sense to let him go.
Secretly, in the bottom of his heart, he must be as eager to be rid of Harry as
Harry was to be rid of him.

�� Stay.�

�� Malfoy�s
hand caught his arm at the same moment as his voice sounded in Harry�s ear. He
was pressing close, literally leaning on Harry this time, as if he meant to
crowd him into the corner. Harry felt his head tip to the side and his eyes
flutter shut.

�� Then he
remembered who he was with, and the potential audience to this�a man who had
done his best to taunt Harry with any knowledge he possessed of him when he was
alive, another man who had manipulated Harry faultlessly and with the best of
intentions, and one who would come up with cruel, subtle insults and try to use
this as an advantage if he discovered Harry�s hidden needs, because that was
just the kind of prat he was.

�� Harry let
his elbow swing into Malfoy�s gut, and took an easy step away from him while he
was doubled-over and gasping. �I�ll see you tomorrow,� he said fiercely.

�� The flames
were crawling up his arms again. It was all he could do to make it out the door
without the wood catching fire in his hands.

�� And, to
make matters worse, Ron and Hermione were waiting for him in the corridor.
Harry glanced up and down quickly, but saw no sign of Covington. That was the
only good thing about this situation, he thought grimly as he faced his former
best friends and prepared himself for battle.

�� Please,�
Hermione said in a whisper. Or at least Harry thought she meant to say that,
from the way her lips moved. It was hard when she was choking on an ingot of
brass that clanged to the floor a moment later.

�� Release
her from the spell, Potter.� Ron had his wand out and pointed at him, Harry
vaguely noted. He thought he should find that threatening, or at least that Ron
meant him to find it threatening.

�� In his
current mood, with the danger that his own body posed to him when he was around
Malfoy, the implied threat made him laugh.

�� Ron�s wand
sliced down, and a brilliant flash of light cut across Harry�s cheek. He turned
his face to the side to accept the blow, licking his lips as the blood from the
slice ran down to his mouth. It gave him a focus and kept him from succumbing
to the spinning world inside his head. The spinning had got worse since the
first time Malfoy touched him today, and it made him think impossible thoughts
and want impossible things. Harry was glad to be able to let it go and
concentrate on a more immediate, if more active, problem.

�� He didn�t
need his wand with all the flames and wild magic leaping about him. He closed
his hand into a fist instead, and the flames boiled up and around his fingers,
then formed into a solid spear of fire. Harry thrust out with it.

�� It caught
Ron�s wand and slapped it out of his hand. The wand hit the floor and started
to smolder. Ron would have scrambled for it, Harry thought, but the spear,
which rested against his groin, kept him rather effectively in place.

�� He stared
at Harry as he stood there. The effect might have been impressive if he wasn�t
standing on tiptoe. Harry, with a slight, malicious sneer that he knew Ron
would resent, stalked a few steps nearer. Ron�s eyes started to water.

�� You don�t
understand yet, do you?� Harry whispered. �I don�t give a fuck about your
precious intentions, or your bloody concern for my mental health. Our
friendship is over. Leave me the fuck alone.�

�� Ron
coughed, and then managed, with that Gryffindor courage that turned into
rashness all the time, �I didn�t think Hermione was right, but now I see she
is. You are sick.�

�� Sick for
doing what I have to to control my anger and my magic and keep me from
destroying everything in sight,� Harry said, with a nod. �Yes, that�s the right
conclusion to draw. It�s not as though I tried everything else and it failed to work. Let�s blame me for what
does?�

�� Hermione
tried to say something and choked on the tin emerging from her throat. Ron
wrapped his arm around her and sneered at Harry. �She would say that it�s not
what you did that�s the problem. Other people could do that and get away with
it, if they had to.� Ron shuddered.
Harry could imagine why; in the days when they were still friends and would
confess things to each other, Hermione had told him that Ron was always the one
on the ordering side, not the ordered-around side. �But since Dumbledore
controlled your life, and other people controlled your life, this is an
unhealthy way of coping��

�� Harry
thought of all the other people who were in the castle at the moment, all the
others who could overhear and might ask prying questions or simply guess what
was happening from the general content of their conversation.

�� Fire soared
up his spine and burst in his brain.

He had had enough.

He twisted the spear of fire, and Ron
had to leap away with a squeal instead of standing there and righteously
lecturing him. Harry extended his hand and cast another spell, trying to use up
the magic that danced around him and knowing it would never be enough. Already
the floor beneath his feet had developed cracks and the ceiling above him was
trembling like jelly, as if about to fall.

�� You can�t
speak about this to anyone who doesn�t already know,� he told Ron, and as he
spoke the words, they became true. Coils of wire manifested in the air and
twisted around Ron�s throat, then sparked and vanished. �That ought to keep you
from spreading news of it around the school like you did with my near-Sorting.�

�� Ron was
gulping in breath as if he wanted to say something else. Harry didn�t stay to
hear it. He took off through the dungeons, towards the stairs, trying
desperately, through tears that evaporated the minute they left his eyes, to
think of what he would do. He had to
have the chains, but none of them would hold for long enough, and brief spaces
of freedom and peace in his current mindset might actually be worse than
nothing at all.

�� A
miraculous thought occurred to him just as he reached the top of the stairs.

�� The Room of Requirement.

�� He altered
his direction and ran towards the seventh floor.

*

�� I still
think this behavior is adolescent,� Severus said, bending over his cauldron.

�� But it has
revealed something interesting to me,� Draco murmured, bending down to cast a
spell on his boots that would keep him from making any sound on creaking stairs
or slippery stone, and then rising to add a Notice-Me-Not Charm to his body in
general. �I wouldn�t have learned it if I hadn�t been listening at the door.�

�� Severus
sneered at him over his shoulder. �I question whether this information is worth
the trouble you have taken to learn it.�

�� You can do
that,� Draco said, and stepped out of his rooms.

�� Weasley and
Granger were shuffling up the corridor towards the entrance hall, bent like old
Muggles. Draco passed them with a sideways glance that, if they could have seen
it, would have stung them with its contempt. Their faces were worn with shock.
Draco hadn�t seen what Potter had done�opening the door might have attracted
unwanted attention�but he had felt the backwash of magic against his senses.
Potter had left them alive and not covered their flesh with suppurating wounds,
and that was all they deserved.

�� Draco came
out into the middle of the entrance hall and listened avidly. Covington would
probably be down the stairs to trap him in a moment; he thought she had only
let them go by the lake because she had sensed that it would be unwise to push
Potter just then. He had to locate Potter and learn what he was about before
she showed up.

�� Potter
wasn�t trying to be silent, perhaps because he thought his magic would warn
anyone with sense to stay away from him. A pattern of stone-dust, accompanied
by the pounding of feet and the shrieks of offended portraits, drifted down
from above. Draco smiled and took the first staircase he saw.

*

�� By the time
he reached the corridor on the seventh floor, Harry was sweating blood.

�� He turned
and paced up and down in front of the wall, his head whirring with so many
different thoughts that he wasn�t surprised when the door failed to appear
after three turns. He shut his eyes, conjured a metallic wrist-cuff that closed
down hard enough to render his arm numb and gave him a bit of clarity, and formulated
his requirement carefully in his head.

�� A place where I can find what I need. A
place where I can subdue my danger and my magic and get them both under control
with the only method that works.

�� Holding the
words to him as if they were precious glass heirlooms, he began to walk back
and forth. Time shifted around him. The wrist cuff began to melt. Harry still
held onto the words and remembered to count the turns with what felt like a
superhuman effort.

�� He opened
his eyes at the end of the third turn, and there it was, an iron door with a
grated window that looked into nothing, like a prison. Harry opened it.

*

�� Draco
realized quickly enough what Potter was making for, and began to hurry. If
Potter managed to vanish into one of the tangle or maze of rooms that one room
could become, Draco would never catch him.

�� And it was
imperative that Draco catch him. He didn�t know why, but it was.

�� The iron
door was still there when he rounded the corner, and Draco stopped and slowed
when he realized that it wasn�t fading. He studied it thoughtfully. What could
Potter want inside an Azkaban cell�that was what it looked like�that would so
frighten and appall his friends? Draco had honestly thought Gryffindors were
less judgmental than that.

�� Only one
way to find out, of course.

�� Draco
gripped the handle. It felt odd in his hand, sweaty, as though it retained
moisture from Potter�s. Draco flung the door open, only to find that it
wouldn�t fling, but came with an odd, slow shudder and a screeching of hinges.

�� He looked
into the room, and stopped. He could feel surprise locking his feet to the
floor and his throat shut.

�� The room
was dim and low, the ceiling dipping until Draco wondered that Potter could
stand upright in it. The floor and walls were made of iron, great, hinged
plates of it like the one that made up the door. In the center was a bed with
metal posts and a steel headboard that had rings projecting out of it, and
which completely lacked sheets and pillows. Chains lay across the bed, ending
in the rings on one side and cuffs on the other. Potter was frantically trying
to lock the cuffs around his wrists, but it seemed they wouldn�t close.

�� Draco
shuddered. The reaction rose deep in his feet and made its way to his chest
without rhyme or reason. Draco couldn�t name the emotion that made him short of
breath or made his limbs shake. He had never thought of a scenario like this
before, never dreamed of it, but�

�� It made
sense. Maybe that was why he did what he did next, because this sight created a
matrix that rendered Potter�s odd habits when Draco touched him, the disgust of
his friends, and even the vision Draco had had in the lake with Potter kneeling
bound in front of him rational and comprehensible and as simple to understand
as the properties of bicorn horn in first-year potions.

�� Draco
stepped into the room and shut the door behind him.

�� As Potter
whirled to face him, eyes brilliant with madness, Draco snapped his fingers and
spoke to the chains on the bed. �Hold him.�

*

�� Harry saw
Malfoy, and he knew he had to destroy him. There was no other word for it. The
magic caught at his hair and his face in a white blaze, and he lunged forwards,
wanting to use his teeth, like a wolf, knowing he had to use his magic, and
envisioning himself tearing Malfoy�s face off�

�� Then the
chains closed around his wrists, locking into place effortlessly, the manacles clicking shut into seamless circles of
steel.

�� And the
magic went away.

�� Harry still
reached the full extent of the chains and fell back, the way he always had when
struggling against the bonds he had conjured himself. But now there was no
magic to pick them apart and strike at the weak places in the links. He could
feel the magic coiled sullenly inside him, forced flat and motionless. He would
get it back, he thought, but he couldn�t have it now.

�� Why not?

�� Harry
raised his head and saw Malfoy standing by the door that led out from the room,
studying him. His arms were folded, his legs were crossed, and one of his feet
tapped the floor. He smiled. The smile made bars of violent light cross Harry�s
vision, and he screamed and caused the chains to rattle with his lunge forwards
again.

�� Resist all
you like,� Malfoy said. �I don�t think these chains will break.� He paused, and
then added, �Even if I don�t understand why,
yet. Why was I able to fasten them when they wouldn�t work for you?�

�� Go away,�
Harry said. His fury nearly choked him, and for long moments he could only
stutter until he forced the insults out of his throat again. �Bastard.
Arsehole. Scrapings off Voldemort�s boot. Snape�s little fucktoy. I hate you.�

�� It sounds
as if you do,� Malfoy said. �But I think I have a bit more experience with
extreme states of mind than you do. I did what I needed to survive during the
war, while you were able to be a hero. That got me used to living with shame
and deciding that it didn�t much matter, as long as the shame stayed a private
experience.�

�� Then you ought
to be able to understand exactly why
I hate you!� Harry tore to the side. This was the point at which chains made of
his magic would have shredded like tissue, and rage tore with sharp claws at
his belly when these didn�t, although he also felt another burst of cloudy
freedom. The combined emotions made his head spin and increased his desire to
spit and yell. �You�re going to take this out of here, and tell Snape, and��

�� But I�m
not,� Malfoy said, in a soft, controlled voice Harry hated and envied him for.
�This is your business. And mine.� He came a few steps further into the room,
boots clicking against the floor. His steps were far more firm and confident
than Bradley�s steps had ever been under the same circumstances, or even the
steps of Muggles Harry had paid, who understood all about this game and how it
was played.

�� Harry
stared at him, panting. Malfoy looked back at him with mild, curious eyes, with
the kind of gaze that said he was uninstructed but willing to learn.

�� No. This is mental.

�� Harry wound
his fingers in the chains, bent his shoulders, and jerked as hard as he could.
The rings bounced and clanked in their settings, the headboard vibrated, but
nothing parted. Harry tore again, and again, and the only things he had to show
for his efforts were blood blisters along the sides of his hands.

�� And a
growing peace in his head, a draining of the anger that made it hard even to
think of new insults for Malfoy.

�� You
struggle like this all the time?� More quiet clicks of the boots as Malfoy
moved closer. Harry raised his head, blinking away the dazzle of bliss that
wanted to occlude his vision, and saw Malfoy standing at the foot of the bed
now. His gaze was solemn, inward, as if he were waiting for a signal of some
sort to make sense of the scene in front of him. �You can�t simply lie back and
give in when you feel yourself chained?�

�� Harry
curled his lip. That had been the part that always disconcerted everyone, even
the paid Muggles. �Yeah,� he said. �That�s about the size of it.� He measured
the distance between him and Malfoy with his eyes, then shifted so that his
heels were beneath him. �And that�s my twisted, demented secret that my friends
can barely tolerate.�

�� He leaped
forwards, trying to claw Malfoy�s arms if he could do no worse damage. And he
thought he could. At the very least, he could wrestle Malfoy onto the bed
beneath him and strangle him with the chains.

�� His
shoulders wrenched back hard enough that Harry heard a warning pop. He hissed
between his teeth and sagged against a pillow that hadn�t been there a minute
before, bewildered. He knew the chains
had been long enough to let him reach Malfoy a minute ago. What had happened?

�� Why did
the pillow show up?� he muttered, the only audible sign he would give of his
confusion. His arms felt like dissolving puddles of syrup, and his eyes kept
wanting to close. And now he was getting aroused, but even that was soft and
gentle, blood flowing to his groin in undulating waves.

�� Because I
required it,� Malfoy said. He was right beside the bed now, studying Harry with
great interest. �Just as I required the chains to be shorter.�

�� Harry
turned his head sharply. He had needed something that would slice through the
mist in his head, and that did it.

�� You have
no business here, Malfoy,� he said. His throat felt metallic, like the bed, and
the words rasped and scraped against it. �Why don�t you go spread rumors about
the perverted Harry Potter, instead of being here?�

�� Malfoy
leaned towards him, face intense. Harry kept one eye on his hands, ready to strike
if he tried to touch him, but Malfoy made no move to do that.

�� Yet. Harry bared his teeth in warning
and waited for his chance. Yes, the chains were reacting to Malfoy�s presence
in strange ways, and it helped; Harry already felt healthier and stronger than
he had since he had come to Hogwarts. But there was no way that he would allow
Malfoy to play more of a part than that.

*

�� Potter was
so fascinating that Draco would have checked for infatuation charms if he could
have taken his eyes from him.

�� But he knew
it wasn�t magic, or at least nothing more than the magic of the Room, which had
permitted Draco to come in, shorten the chains, and render the bed more
comfortable. It was the presence of two heated bodies together, of Potter�s
need and the rising force in Draco that drove him to answer that need, of
something Draco had never considered and yet which seemed like the thing he had
always wanted to do.

�� It was the
force of revelation.

�� I want to do this. It�s new. It�s strange.
It�s curious.

�� He felt
rather the way he did when he first began experiments with a potion. Would he
succeed? Would he fail? What unexpected consequences would appear along the
way, to force him to change his initial plans or do something that would change
even his intentions? The number of his plans that had gone perfectly was very
small. On the other hand, the right mixture of success and failure made brewing
piquant. Draco would have found it boring to succeed at every attempt.

�� He reached
out and tried to touch one of Potter�s hunched shoulders, wondering what it
would feel like.

�� Potter
lunged, his teeth clacking together. Draco pulled back, staring at him, and
then laughed. He had wondered why Potter would try to bite instead of strike
him, but Potter already seemed to have learned that the chains would keep him
from touching Draco unless Draco willed it. He was clever and learned quickly.

�� I want
this,� he said, in answer to Potter�s question and to have a chance to voice
his own thoughts. �Nothing you can do will drive me away.�

�� Potter gave
him a faint half-smile. Then he pushed off the bed with his heels and somehow
whirled his lower body around�he moved too quickly to let Draco see how he had
done it�and kicked Draco hard in the legs.

�� Draco
gasped in pain and stood up, because he thought it would be more dignified to
do so than to sprawl on the floor the way the force of Potter�s kick might have made him do. He stared at
Potter.

�� Do you
always fight like this?� he asked.

�� Potter
snarled. He didn�t make any noise, but there was nothing else Draco could call
the sustained baring of his teeth, combined with the wild look in his eyes that
made him seem as if he would take another bite out of Draco. �Always,� he said.
�Still want to risk being in bed with me now, Malfoy?�

�� You need
this,� Draco said. �That means there must come a time when the fighting stops.�

�� Fuck you, Malfoy.�

�� Potter
lunged against the chains again, and this time went sprawling back on the bed
with a cry as the chains shortened themselves. Another pair of manacles had
appeared at the foot of the bed, Draco noticed, with cuffs invitingly sized for
Potter�s ankles. He moved towards them.

�� Potter
flailed out and hit him squarely in the groin with one foot. Draco hissed,
tears coming out of his squinted eyes. Then he seized his wand and Stunned
Potter. While Potter lay motionless and gaping at the ceiling, he grabbed the
manacles and fastened them around Potter�s feet.

�� Then he
lifted the spell and jumped back as Potter twisted his head to the side and
nearly succeeded in closing his teeth on Draco�s hand.

�� Dear,
dear,� Draco murmured, his heart pounding with the excitement and shock. �Am I
going to have to put a collar on you as well, to keep you from interrupting
when we start playing?�

�� Not play.�
Potter�s words were beginning to slur, but Draco doubted that came from pain of
any kind. His eyes were glazed, his pupils dilated as though he�d had a really
good drink�or a really good fuck. �You don�t�understand. This isn�t play to me.
I only get myself chained up because it helps�with the anger. Didn�t�give you
permission to put the manacles on. Take them off.�

�� Of course,
if you like,� Draco said, and moved towards the chains, slowly, keeping one eye
on Potter all the while. He was a much better judge of people in extreme
situations than he used to be, and he didn�t think he�d judged this one
wrongly.

*

�� Harry
hadn�t felt so close to the edge of pure, peaceful, natural sleep in weeks.

�� But that
was wrong. What he felt wasn�t weariness. The emotions buzzed and shone and
zoomed along inside of him, and coursed through his body as magic no longer
could. Harry gave a weak kick at the manacles, more to check that they were
there than anything else, and felt a deep, thick, inexplicable satisfaction
when he heard the clink of the chains and felt the pressure of the cuffs around
his ankles.

�� He thought
he was close to sleep because he hadn�t been this relaxed in weeks. Perhaps not
ever. He�d never thought of chaining his legs in exactly this way. Most of the
time, Bradley and the other people he had tried to convince to do this only
felt comfortable with the arms, and Harry had thought he was, too.

�� Now he
realized that maybe what he could live with wasn�t what he needed.

�� He glanced
up at Malfoy, who was reaching towards the chains, ready to loosen them, and
his pride returned, a sudden surge of pure emotion that at least didn�t have
any anger. Yes, maybe he did need this, but Malfoy wasn�t the one who was going
to give it to him.

�� Yes,� he
said, although his voice wavered. �Take them off.�

�� Only
Malfoy�s raised eyebrow said that he was surprised. He unbuckled one cuff and
then reached for the second.

�� Harry
closed his eyes. The room had begun to spin again instead of stabilizing the
way it had when he wore both ankle chains. That made no sense, and it wasn�t
something Harry would tolerate. He gritted his teeth, told himself that Malfoy
was more intolerable than being a bit dizzy, and waited.

�� The second
chain loosened.

�� As though
the loosening had been a signal, thoughts of Ron and Hermione blossomed in his
head again. Harry felt the anger rise in him as he thought of their petty,
simpering excuses, their smug sureness that they were right, and their claim
that he had to face and deal with his �issues with authority figures� in a way
they approved. It wasn�t enough that he had found something that worked and
hurt no one. They couldn�t be happy for him. No, they had to disagree and coo
at him about how he had to do the acceptable
thing, the right thing�

�� You�re
burning,� Malfoy said softly.

�� Harry
opened his eyes. The stupid blanket that either the Room or Malfoy had added to
the bed was on fire, and the flames were actually stinging his skin. It seemed
some magic had come to the surface after all, but Harry had lost the ability to
keep it from hurting him. He swore, rolled over, and kicked at the burning
blanket.

�� A stream of
water, conjured by Malfoy, poured down from above and put the fire out. Harry
buried his head in his still-chained arms and tried to make them the focus of
the universe.

�� Why are
you so opposed to me being the one to give you what so clearly need?� Malfoy
asked from above him. His voice was calm and cool and interested, and he
sounded as if he couldn�t care less about the answer, as if it was merely one
of a series of things he was interested in and would like to know, and he would
ask another question if he couldn�t get this one solved.

�� You hate
me,� Harry said, lifting his head with an effort. The chains were making his
arms ache. He rolled over and stared up at Malfoy, hissing as his shoulders
popped. The one he�d wrenched earlier still hurt, and he winced. He didn�t
really relish pain that much; he just accepted it as a natural consequence of
defying the chains. �Why would I want you to assist me with something so
intimate?�

�� Malfoy
smiled. The smile looked strange on his face, and Harry started, realizing only
then how much he had braced himself for a sneer. �I don�t think it�s that
intimate, is it? I tie you up, and then what? How would it work if you were
with someone you trusted?� he added with exaggerated patience when Harry
hesitated.

�� Harry
licked his lips. He would be mad to confess the truth to Malfoy. Wouldn�t he?

�� But the
Room wouldn�t give him what he really required on his own. That was all too
clear, with the way the chains had refused to fasten until Malfoy had commanded
them to. And Harry could feel the sick coil of the anger in his belly. He was
so tired of feeling that way. This
was the only cure he had ever found.

�� Of all the
people in Hogwarts at the moment, laughable as it was, he would still trust
Malfoy the most with something like this.

�� Give me
orders,� Harry said, closing his eyes so that he didn�t have to see what
Malfoy�s face would look like when he said that. �It doesn�t matter what.
Simple orders will do. Fifteen or twenty minutes will do.�

�� Malfoy was
silent instead of gloating or refusing the way Harry had expected. Then he
said, �And then I fuck you?�

�� Harry
couldn�t help staring at him. Malfoy poised with one knee on the bed, head
tilted as if he was examining the muscles of Harry�s stomach.

�� Why would
you want to?� Harry asked. �No, you
don�t have to do that.�

�� Malfoy gave
him another smile and reached down to touch Harry�s stomach, then ran his hand
down Harry�s leg. Harry had to shut his eyes as the intensity of the sensation
overwhelmed him. His skin was tingling again, sensitized, and the storm of
anger was sinking back to join his magic in being trapped far beneath the
surface.

�� Oh, I want
to,� Malfoy said. �But I�m not going to do it until I�ve heard you make the choice,
declare that you want me.�

�� Harry shook
his head. Malfoy kept surprising him. �I would have assumed that you�d like the
fact that I�m in a difficult position and turning to you because you�re the
best of a bad lot,� he said. �It feeds your idea of power, and don�t you get
off on that?�

*

�� Draco felt
his jaw tighten. It was with an effort that he forced himself to relax and give
Potter a condescending look. It wasn�t rational to expect Potter to know why he
would be insulted by that, after all, and Draco prided himself on his
rationality.

�� I was the
best of a bad lot during the war,� he said. �I was the only one who could save
my parents, and I could only do that by cooperation with the Dark Lord. I
didn�t have any choice. And I wasn�t anyone�s first choice for anything. The
Dark Lord only used me as a torturer because it amused him to see the sick
expression on my face. Severus only went on the run with me because he had no
choice. My friends wouldn�t stand with me until I threatened and bribed them.�
He had to pause and take a deep breath so that the memories of a hurt, despised
teenage boy wouldn�t overwhelm him. �After that, I promised I would only
associate with people who came to me willingly.�

�� Potter
sucked his lip, looking up at him. His eyes were dark, and Draco wondered if he
would have to turn his back after all and walk out of here. He didn�t want to.
There was something that made his breath catch about seeing Potter chained up
like this, something that made him want to
give Potter orders, and although it was a new thing to him, it wasn�t something
hurtful or that he couldn�t face.

�� Then
Potter�s eyes seemed to clear, and he nodded.

�� Speak it,�
Draco ordered, pressing his hand down into Potter�s stomach and making him
grunt. �I want to hear you say it.�

�� Potter
scowled at him, and fought an obviously long and silent battle with himself.
Draco waited, never moving his hand or his eyes. This was unexpectedly�easy, he
thought. If Potter had put on chains, he himself had shed them when he stepped
into this room.

�� Yes, all
right?� Potter said at last. His voice was heating up again, and he had ground
his fingers into the chains hard enough to tear open bloody slashes along them.
�I want you to�to order me about.� His face was flushed.

�� To fuck
you?� Draco asked softly. His mouth was dry now. He swung his other leg onto
the bed and removed his hand from Potter, which made his palm itch. He wanted
to reach back down and touch him again at once.

�� Potter shut
his eyes. There was sweat on his forehead, and his breathing had sped up to the
point that Draco would have been concerned about him if he had thought there
was anything legitimate to be concerned about. But he didn�t. He waited,
instead, and Potter finally gratified him by snarling, �Yes.�

�� Draco
didn�t smile. Neither did he lunge down and grasp Potter�s mouth in a furious
kiss, though he thought Potter might have preferred that; it would have given
him less time to think. Instead, he kissed him coolly, pressing his palm back
into place on Potter�s stomach as much to hide the shaking of his hands with
excitement as to indulge his desire to touch Potter again.

�� Strip,� he
said, sitting back on his heels.

�� Potter gave
him a dirty look and lifted his chained wrists in silence.

�� That�s up
to you to figure out,� Draco said, and gave a deep laugh, surprising himself.
Yes, he was flying, or felt as if he was, the taste of Potter�s mouth in his
own and the feel of Potter�s skin beneath his hands propelling him to new and extravagant
heights. �And don�t talk,� he added, when Potter started to open his mouth to
complain. �Groaning, whimpering, and sighing are perfectly acceptable.�

*

�� Harry
locked his teeth together and shifted back against the headboard so that he
could have more slack in the chains to work with. Even then, it took him four
tries to get a grip on the bottom of his shirt because his hands were shaking
so hard.

�� The cool metal
of the headboard against his back should have grounded him, but it didn�t. And
he was horribly afraid that he looked stupid, with his flushed face and rapidly
fluttering eyelashes and glazed eyes that made him have to blink before he
could see anything like a normal person.

�� Bradley and
the other Muggles hadn�t ordered him around like this. Bradley tended to give
the orders in a nervous voice. The Muggles would snap and sound like Aurors
arresting a suspect. Malfoy alone spoke in this detached, cool tone, as if he
wanted to see what Harry had to offer before he would concede to become
emotionally involved.

�� It was wonderful. Just what he needed. Coolness
to soothe the fire inside him. The anger had swirled away as if going down a
drain; the magic was sleeping so far beneath his skin that Harry could no
longer feel it.

�� He couldn�t
have said that it was what he needed, though. Malfoy had already taught him
something new about himself, plucked a desire from thin air that Harry didn�t
know he had and given it body and breath.

�� And that was bloody terrifying.

�� It�ll be all right, Harry told himself
as he got the right grip finally and managed to pull the shirt back until it
caught in the chains where they stretched over his shoulders. Then he had to
maneuver his arms some more until the chains and his wrists both popped and the
shirt worked free. We�ll only be together
for a few more days, however long it takes us to solve the riddles and get
around the Ministry. You can endure that long.

�� He did
wonder, though, as he started work on his trousers, if it would be possible to
become addicted to Malfoy�s way of handling him in one session. That could be
disastrous when he left Malfoy behind.

�� It didn�t
matter, he reassured himself again. He would deal with it the same way he had
dealt with not being able to get what he needed from Bradley all the time:
ignore the issue, and sometimes take the smaller steps of chaining himself with
magic or hiring Muggles when it became intolerable. Somehow, he would get
through it. He would live.

�� He stripped
himself quickly of trousers, and followed it with his pants. Then he turned and
glanced defiantly up at Malfoy. He knew that he didn�t look like a model or the
impossibly beautiful young men he sometimes saw in Muggle magazines. He had too
many scars. He was too thin. He had lived too long under stress, and that
showed in the boniness of his legs and the way his limbs sometimes waved about
because he didn�t know how to handle himself.

�� But Malfoy
watched him with a greedy expression that made Harry shiver, because he
realized now that Malfoy might want to devour him, and he wasn�t sure that he
could prevent that or hold it back.

�� Very
nice,� Malfoy said, in a murmur so soft that it was hard for Harry to
distinguish from the rustling of the sheets as Malfoy leaned forwards. �Very nice. Now, sit still. I�m going to
bind your feet again.�

�� Harry
shuddered so hard that Malfoy, staring as obsessively at Harry�s stomach as he
was, couldn�t have missed it. He raised an eyebrow. �Do you object to that? Nod
if you do.�

�� Harry
licked his lips. He wasn�t afraid of being bound. He was afraid of what it
would do to him, of the intensity of sensation he would experience.

�� Malfoy
seemed to know that, because his face turned bright with his sneer. �How have
you survived so long? Most people I know like this are comfortable and at home
with their desires. The ones who aren�t confine them to fantasy. They don�t
come halfway like you and then hesitate as if they�re about to run home.�

�� Harry
glared at him and thrust his feet out. Malfoy could chain him, fine. He would
be the one who had to deal with it if Harry suddenly panicked or started
thrashing around and hit him in the face with his elbow. He would be the one
who had to deal with it if this was a less than satisfying sexual experience
for him.

�� Malfoy
laughed at whatever he saw in Harry�s face, and linked the cuffs of the chains
around Harry�s feet. Then he bent and whispered to them, and suddenly the
chains shortened on both sides, so that Harry found himself stretched taut
across the bed before he even thought about what might happen.

�� He shut his
eyes. God, he was dizzy with the relief that coursed through him, the sudden
ease of stress and the feeling that he was cradled and held, as if the chains
were protective armor guarding him from the world. He moaned.

�� Good,�
Malfoy said, his voice throbbing down deep in Harry�s midsection. �Spread your
legs.�

�� That wasn�t
easy for Harry to do, either, given the chains on his ankles, but he had long
since accepted that Malfoy didn�t care about that. It made it more exciting,
actually. Malfoy was trusting Harry to find the solution, and that was about
the level of authority that Harry could handle right now. He drove his legs
apart as far as they would go, and groaned again when his bonds pulled in
resistance.

�� The bed
dipped. Harry blinked, frowned a bit when he realized that sheets now covered
it�when had that happened?�and tipped his head back to look at Malfoy.

�� Nod if you
require much preparation,� Malfoy whispered.

�� Harry
nodded to him. He could feel his face heating up more. Malfoy was still
clothed, and Harry was naked. And�well, fuck, it wasn�t as if he did this all
the time. Bradley didn�t always fuck him. And Harry had held off as long as he
could before he went to Bradley or someone else for his relief.

�� Ah,�
Malfoy said, and looked even more pleased than usual. Instead of pulling lube
out of a pocket, though, he started to undress.

�� Harry�s
eyes focused on his cock when it emerged first, and it was so dark with blood,
against Malfoy�s pale skin, that he didn�t think he could look anywhere else.

*

�� Potter�s
eyes were wonderfully large as they focused on his erection. Draco gave one of
his private smiles and shoved his trousers and pants down his hips with one
motion, before he went back to his shirt.

�� Potter�s
body was wonderful, as well. He seemed to act as if he had hideous blemishes,
but Draco didn�t see why. There were no Weasley freckles, for example. There
were scars, but Draco carried his own share of those, like the silvery scars on
his chest he was now revealing to Potter�s eyes. He was perhaps thinner than
was fashionable, but that made it more exciting for Draco. He imagined that it
would be like fucking a slim, lithe cat.

�� Besides,
Potter was held-down, trapped and helpless, on the bed, of his own free will.
Potter could have had freckles and Draco would still have enjoyed it.

�� He dragged
off the last of his clothes and sat still, letting Potter look at him all he
liked. Potter was already biting the inside of his cheek and sucking on his
lip. Draco enjoyed those expressions of lust, especially since he�d forbidden
Potter to speak. He wondered if Potter knew he was making them.

�� He glanced
once at the manacles holding Potter�s feet and pondered if he should lengthen them
so that Potter could spread his legs more. Then he shook his head. Potter would
have to actually be in pain before Draco would want to change anything about
this moment.

�� He reached
out a commanding hand, and the small table he had envisioned, with the pot of
lube on it, manifested by the time he finished the gesture. Draco smiled
again�he didn�t know the last time he�d smiled so much�and uncapped the pot,
dipping his fingers into the liquid inside. It was orange, and orange-scented.

�� Draco
rolled it between his hands as he studied Potter thoughtfully. He was going to
enjoy this, yes, but he hadn�t really done this sort of thing very often. He
thought he wouldn�t want to do it with anyone other than Potter.

�� He didn�t
know if he could get Potter to do it again,
though.

�� Think about that later, he told himself,
and reached down to Potter�s arse. You
don�t even know that this is going to be good enough to want to repeat.

�� Potter
tensed and shivered when Draco stuck his fingers in, and when Draco added more
lubricant, it didn�t make any difference. Draco looked up and found that his
face was pale, his eyes shut and his breathing shallow.

�� Do you
want to stop?� Draco asked. Potter could still nod even if he couldn�t speak a
refusal. Besides, Draco thought he would break his self-imposed rule of obeying
Draco�s orders if he was in real danger.

�� Potter
opened his eyes and gave him a dirty look. Draco shrugged and slid his fingers
home. Potter�s breath caught, and his face turned paler still. But he didn�t
groan in pain or scream a rejection, so Draco pushed his fingers further in
still, sighing aloud at the thought of the warmth that would surround his cock
soon.

�� Up,� he
told Potter. �Spread your legs further.�

�� Potter
grunted and heaved himself up, his eyes opening with a calmer, saner look in
them. He used the order as a means to cling to sanity, Draco thought as he
spread his fingers and slid a third one in between them. Why? Who knew. Draco
wasn�t yet interested enough in the intricacies of Harry Potter�s psychology to
spend a lot of time thinking about them.

�� Potter was
regularly closing and opening his eyes the next time Draco looked, for all the
world as if he were trying to blink a signal to someone. Draco rolled his eyes
and chose to ignore that. His attention was for that wonderful warmth, easing
open and shut now in nearly the same rhythm as Potter�s eyes.

�� He tried to
reach Potter�s prostate, but didn�t manage to. He shrugged. He could always
order Potter to fuck himself on Draco�s cock.

�� Then he was
putting the lubricant aside with a hand that, annoyingly, shook�at least Draco
didn�t think Potter was in the right kind of mood to notice�and pressing
himself into the sheath that Potter�s body had become with a groan.

�� Potter
stopped breathing altogether. Draco didn�t mind the extra tightness, but he�d
prefer not to have to stop their fucking because Potter had fainted.

�� Breathe,�
he said, in the same light, cold tone he had used to give the other orders.

�� Potter
choked on air or his tongue but began breathing again, a surprised expression
on his face. Draco slid all the way in and waited to hear what other sounds he
would make, to see what other expressions he would have.

�� Potter�s
mouth fell open, his face twisted and reddened, and he spent a few moments
panting in what looked like agony. Then he gave a groan that shook as much as
Draco�s hand had, and his head banged back against the pillows, flattening one
and scattering the other. His second sound was a tiny whimper.

�� An ecstatic whimper.

�� Draco
smiled. He�d had too many lovers not to recognize the sound. He pushed himself
forwards once again, taking a grip on Potter�s hips, and released as much
tension as he could in the thrusts of a brutal, hard fucking.

*

�� No one had
ever been inside him like this.

�� Harry�d had
lovers before. Of course he had. Sometimes the Muggles he paid had fucked him.
He�d been Bradley�s lover in other scenarios and situations than this
particular one, especially since Bradley was so jumpy about doing this unless
Harry spent several days talking him into it first. It had been fun enough,
pleasant enough. Even with the Muggles, Harry had drifted, paying more
attention to the chains around his limbs and the orders they gave until the
moment when they began to stroke his cock.

�� But this
time�

�� It hurt,
and it was glorious, because Harry could hear the orders echoing in his head,
feel the chains around both his wrists and ankles, and feel, too, the
relentless push of Malfoy�s hips all at once. Malfoy demanded that he pay attention, rather than floating away into a
world of his own where he only had to experience the most powerful and pleasant
sensations. And that made Harry, in turn, more aware of things like the
roughness of the blanket beneath his back and the ache in his hips where he was
spreading his legs against the pull of the manacles.

�� How was
Malfoy doing that? Was it just that he wasn�t a Muggle, or that they were
fucking in a magical room that would obey his will as well as Harry�s?

�� That had to
be it, Harry decided with a slight gasp as Malfoy forced himself deeper. There was
no reason for this to be so different from his other fucks except that the
ankle chains and magic were involved.

�� Malfoy
rocked above him. Harry stared up and found that Malfoy�s eyes were fixed on
his face, his expression keen with pleasure, his face flushed with blood that
made it darker than Harry had ever seen.

�� Push back
with me,� Malfoy said. �Move with me.� And those could have been things that
anyone would say to a lover, which would have broken the spell for Harry,
except that he used the same tone of voice. They were demands. He didn�t care
about Harry�s comfort or the problem the ankle chains would present.

�� It was so refreshing to have someone just give
Harry what he needed and otherwise seek his own pleasure that Harry complied
without thinking about it, pushing back as hard as he could. Shocks ran through
him, both because Malfoy had found his prostate and because Malfoy was suddenly
pressed deeper inside. Harry had thought he was deep before, that he couldn�t get any deeper. Now he knew better.

�� He started
to say, �So good,� but that would
have meant violating the order. It was astoundingly easy to push the words down
and just moan in approval.

�� Yes,�
Malfoy said, and kept it up, a stream of mindless yeses as he moved above Harry, head thrown back, eyes dreamy.

�� Harry
watched him hungrily. He looked even better when he lost that keen focus of
attention and Harry could feel that he didn�t matter, that he wasn�t that
important in this situation. In fact, maybe that was the difference. Most of
his lovers had to keep a focus on him to please him, and Bradley liked to know
what Harry thought every step of the way.

�� Harry was
sick of all that attention, though. He got it enough outside of the bedroom, if
not as much of it as he used to. He could use a little ignoring.

�� Now Malfoy�s
expression stabbed him forcefully in his brain, which Harry knew was just as
much an erotic organ as anything in the body. He writhed and lifted his hips
and yelped and yowled, and couldn�t have said why.

�� It did
bring Malfoy�s attention back to him, though. He smiled a bit and reached out
to stroke Harry�s cock.

�� Harry shook
his head frantically, and would have spoken if he�d thought it would have any
other result than Malfoy stopping at once. He didn�t know much about this new
version of Malfoy who was willing to do things like sleep with him, but he did
think that he was a man of his word, and that he would slide out of Harry
altogether if Harry violated one of his orders.

�� Oh?�
Malfoy retracted his hand slowly, fingers spread as though he wanted Harry to
see them all and understand what he was giving up. �You want to come
untouched?�

�� A storm of
roaring shot through Harry�s head, and he felt like himself for the first time in almost a year, although he could feel
his face painfully flushing at the same time because of Malfoy speaking those
words aloud. He bobbed his head in exaggerated fashion and then tilted it back
against the pillows, welcoming what he knew was going to happen.

�� The anger was
gone. The magic was gone. He was the man he wished to be and couldn�t be most
of the time, someone who felt happy.

�� The
happiness mingled with the pleasure as white flashes crossed his vision and his
hips jerked up. Harry lifted his head in time to see himself coming all over
Malfoy�s stomach and his own, the wetness leaking down his legs and getting on
the blankets. Then he lost all that strength and let his head fall back,
because he didn�t have a lot of choice.

�� Oh,�
Malfoy said, voice breathy and restricted. His
hips tensed, too, and he buried himself so deep that Harry croaked out one more
cry of protest. Then he came, bouncing and sighing, his breath rattling out
through his teeth at the last.

�� In the
aftermath, Harry shut his eyes and lay there. He was drained, empty, still,
spent, at peace�

�� And himself.

�� That was
what he really sought in those adventures with Bradley and the other Muggles,
and now with Malfoy. Not to be dominated, not to be free of control, but to be
himself, the person he could remember being before the war and his unreasonable
anger. He got to lie there with random thoughts drifting through his head and
feel his hands as though they belonged to him. His mind was clear in the way
that he wanted it to be, without succumbing to other impulses.

�� One
experience of control was necessary to free himself from the control of
everything else.

�� Harry
smiled. It was a bright, pointed thought, at least halfway intelligent, and he
knew that he never would have had it ordinarily. He flicked his eyes open
lazily and moved his hands out from the sides so that he could look at the
chains around his wrists.

�� Mind
removing these, Malfoy?� he asked.

*

�� Draco
didn�t let himself fall on Potter, because that was undignified.

�� And because
he liked the position he was in, his elbows resting on Potter�s stomach, his
head dangling, his cock still buried and twitching. The wetness drying on his
stomach would bother him in due time, as would kneeling between Potter�s legs
like this, but right now it didn�t.

�� That had
been�intense. Exhilarating. The kind of experience that brewing a new potion
often gave him, without the danger.

�� Draco
opened his eyes and looked down at Potter. He was smiling. Draco licked his lips.
It might not be a bad thing to be able to cause smiles like that, always
provided, of course, that one didn�t have to pay too high a price for it.

�� He would
have reached down and stroked Potter�s cheek, but just then Potter opened his
eyes and spoke, violating Draco�s
order. Draco was brought back so suddenly to the world outside the Room that he
actually missed what Potter said, until he glanced up in annoyance, rattled the
chains, and asked, �I said, would you take these off?�

�� Draco
licked his lips again. �I think you�ve forgotten something, Potter,� he said,
and if his voice was not quite the whipcrack he wanted it to be, it was a good
approximation.

�� Oh, that
you ordered me to be quiet?� Potter shook his head. He was sitting up now,
though he had the sense to lean back against the headboard enough so that the
chains wouldn�t cut into his skin more than they already had. �Well, that�s
over, now. But I think the Room still has to have your command to get rid of
the chains, so��

�� The chains
around Potter�s ankles and wrists abruptly sprang open. Potter stared at them,
not looking more surprised at the moment than Draco felt. Then he shrugged,
grinned, and pulled away from Draco. Draco gasped as he slid out, but Potter
didn�t bother glancing at him. Instead, he rose and started to cast Cleaning
Charms on himself.

�� Draco fell
on the bed and stared blankly at the solid, bending curve of Potter�s back. How
could he leave something so intense behind him as if it had never happened?

�� Where are
you going?� he asked. His voice was a rasp. He didn�t like that, and turned to
pick up his own wand.

�� Out,�
Potter said. �Thanks for fucking me like that. It gets the anger out.� He was
getting dressed now, and making for the door of the Room at the same time.

�� You never
stay with your lovers?� Draco asked. �Not even when they�� do this for you, he was going to say, but he didn�t want to reveal
that the experience had meant more to him than Potter. He settled for pinching
his lips shut instead.

�� Potter
stared at him over his shoulder. He stared for so long that Draco finished the
Cleaning Charms and reached for his own clothing. He remained still after that,
though, because he didn�t want Potter to think he was using the clothes as a
shield.

�� Potter
pushed his straggling curls back over his shoulders, shoved his foot into a
final boot, and shrugged. �It�s not about the sex for me,� he said simply.
�That�s just a convenient conduit. If I could find some other way to get rid of
the anger, then I would.� His face darkened for a moment. �And that way, I
probably wouldn�t have fought with Ron and Hermione.�

�� That was
the source of your row?� Draco tried to take pleasure in this new knowledge, to
stop feeling like he had just been kicked. It was difficult.

�� Potter
nodded. �They think it�s pathological for me to like being ordered around by a
big, powerful man after that�s what Dumbledore did.� He flushed abruptly. �Not
that you�re big. But the point stands.�

�� Draco
struggled for long moments to find the right words. �What�s pathological,� he said at last instead,
�is your attempt to say that it�s not about the sex for you. Haven�t you ever
thought about why that�s so? Haven�t you ever tried to find a lover who
wouldn�t mind doing this for you?�

�� Potter�s
face closed as tight as the wards of Severus�s lab. �I don�t ask questions like
that,� he said shortly. �They never go anywhere I want to go.�

�� Draco
realized a moment later why that would be true, and cursed himself for a fool.
Granger and Weasley kept trying to get Potter to question the foundations of
his sexuality. He wouldn�t want to do the same thing with Draco involved.

�� Potter
flung open the door and left, sending it spinning against the wall. Draco
watched him go, and then sat in motionless thought for a few more moments.

�� He knew
only two things at the end of that period of thought, however.

�� He wanted
to do that with Potter again.

�� And this
was considerably more complicated than Potter just being able to take orders
from him, and Draco being able to give them.

*

�� polka dot: They
don�t want to make that decision yet, not until they�ve seen what the Ministry
has to offer.

�� EarlyDawn:
Thank you! I think Ron and Hermione feel their friendship with Harry gives them
the right to be concerned about him, but there�s a long distance between
feeling concerned about someone and trying to stop them from doing something.

�� red713:
Thanks! I�m afraid I can�t do much about the angst in this chapter; it�s much
thicker.

�� Night the
Storyteller: Harry doesn�t intend to talk with anyone if he can help it.

�� Shadow
Lily: Thanks! I hope you liked this chapter as well.
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Chosen Chains