Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Freedom In Chains	By : TaintedSensibly Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 29614 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 7
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. All original characters and plots are mine. No money was made with this story.

Chapter List
- 4
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- 6
Instruction

May 23^rd, 1995

Zabini Manor, Italy

Fog drifted along the ground, an opaque curtain that blanketed the night. Silence dominated the scene until one of the flickering shadows took human form. Squinting, Laine could just make out the profile of an old man, thin with wild hair and bushy eyebrows: Linc! Muffled steps echoed across the distance as Linc approached. The rhythmic sound of his footsteps stopped as Linc paused. For a long moment, he stared down at the edge where land met water, indecision clear on his face.

With a sigh, Linc pulled out a fishing rod. The almost insect-like whirl of the line sung across the water. They heard a small splash as it landed. The line went taut almost instantly. Linc looked unhappy instead of joyful to have caught something. He gave a hard yank and suddenly a hand reached out of the water to clasp his own. A man even older than Linc stepped onto the bank. He wore dark purple robes and had a beard so long that it hung to his knees. Linc glared resentfully, his shoulders hunched.

“You always do the right thing in the end, brother,” the unfamiliar man said.

“You always get lost on the way to doing right, brother,” Linc sneered in a surly growl.

“I do what I must!” Sudden emotion gripped the older man, tears spilling down his cheeks. “What else can I do?” So saying, the bearded one turned and pulled Harry Potter out of the fog. He reached into his robes and took out heavy manacles. “I do what I must to save the world!”

Furious, Linc stomped up to the passive teenager. “Is it a world worth saving, boy? Ever ask yourself that?”

Harry Potter lifted his head. The lightning bolt scar blazed with disturbing blood-red light. Cast on the water, they could now see it wasn’t a lake. It was a river. The dead flowed by, hundreds of corpses, each face twisted in torment.

Harry turned anguished eyes to the bearded man. “Is this the only way?”

“I know no other,” the old man answered in a broken whisper. “No other way but sacrifice.”

Harry glanced once more at the river of flowing death and offered his arms. “Do it.”

Crying once more, the old man chained Harry Potter’s wrists. He turned the bound teenager so that Harry stood with his back to the old man’s chest and faced the river. The manacles must have been lined with miniature razor blades on the inside. Blood began to slowly stream down his hands and onto the ground. The blood pooled at their feet, flowing into the river and obscuring the view of the dead. Erasing them or just blocking them from sight, there was no way to tell.

Linc cackled madly while the older man began to sob. Harry Potter stood motionless, eyes captivated by that red river, as he silently bled to death in the old one’s arms…

… Laine jerked free of the dream vision. His night clothes stuck to his sweat-soaked body, making him feel like the horrible mist had followed him into reality. Frantically, he turned to Hale and brushed his messy hair from his forehead. The scar looked normal, white and only slightly raised. Despite knowing what he’d seen was not real, Laine found himself helplessly running his hands down Hale’s arms and checking his wrists for the deadly wounds. He found perfect, unbroken skin.

He lay back with a muffled sigh. Hale was fine, but Laine wasn’t so sure he was. He felt shaken and sick. These dreams… They were getting stronger. As a child, he’d see glimpses that remained strangely clear when he woke. By the time he’d turned thirteen, the weird dreams had developed into short, choppy sequences. Then last month, he’d had the vision of Severus stepping out of a tornado of fire, claiming to be his father. In one hand, Severus had held a bloody dagger. In the other, he’d had a picnic basket that smelled deliciously of baked bread and apples. After studying psychology off and on over the years, Laine had recognized that these were symbols and not a foretelling of the actual future. It was just his bad luck that the part where Severus claimed to be his father had been literal and not symbolic.

This new dream had been even longer and more detailed. Again it had been full of symbols and metaphor. He just had to figure out what it meant. He felt a deadly calm settle around him. He wouldn’t let anyone chain his Hale. He’d kill anyone who made the boy bleed. That vision wasn’t going to come true.

Making sure Hale was still sound asleep, Laine slipped from the bed and from the room on silent feet. He found the room he wanted on the third try. He stepped silently into the darkened bedroom, his hand lingering on the handle. The well-tended hinges hadn’t made a sound. Carefully releasing the latch once the door was fully shut, Laine moved around the shadowed furniture to the big bed. The knife in his hand rose with not even a whisper of air and pressed against soft, vulnerable skin.

“Wakey, wakey,” he whispered. “Don’t try anything or my hand might just slip.”

Linc’s eyes snapped open as he woke with a gasp. He glared up at the teen, completely unafraid and wide awake. “What do you think you’re doing, boy?”

Laine grinned coldly. “Thought we’d have a little chat before anyone else wakes up.”

“Didn’t know chatting required steel to my throat.”

Linc sneered and let loose a blast of wandless magic, intending to fling Laine away.

Laine was already poised and ready for such a move. His eyes glowed nearly silver as his magic, combined with Hale’s, absorbed the blow.

Linc gasped in utter shock. After a moment’s panicked struggle in which he found he couldn’t over power the teen magically, he collapsed, panting. He was completely at the teen’s nonexistent mercy, and for the first time since he’d woken Linc felt fear.

“I’ve found blood encourages truer answers.” Laine leaned some weight onto his arm and watched apathetically as red swelled up and trickled past the thin barrier. “I know you have a brother. I know your brother wants Hale to do something to stop this war. Most importantly, I know you’re thinking about ways to contact him to let him know where we are.”

Another gasp of shock escaped Linc’s throat. “How…?” he asked in a whisper.

“Does it matter?” Laine leaned close, filling the man’s vision. A dangerous smile stretched across his face. “I thought I’d help you with your decision.” The knife pressed still further, spilling enough blood to soak Linc’s collar and stain the pillow underneath. “I will not be happy if you help your brother in anyway use my Hale.”

“I’m not on my brother’s side!”

“Then why are you trying to contact him?” Laine demanded in a furious hiss.

“You’re gonna meet him sooner or later anyway,” Linc answered quickly, hoping Laine accepted his logic. “And Harry’s bound for this war whether he likes it or not. Just thought I’d get everything out into the open. What either side does after is no concern of mine.”

“That’d almost be admirable if it weren’t so disgustingly passive aggressive.” Laine lifted the knife and switched his grip so that instead of holding the blade length-wise against the man’s throat it was vertical with the point pressing in just under Linc’s Adam ’s apple. “The only thing keeping me from shoving this blade through your throat is the fact we need to stick around a while to learn magic and killing you would force us to run again. In the meantime, you let me know anything you think might be of interest to me. You’ll do this or I’ll make sure everyone knows about your big brother.”

“Yes. Fine! Get off me!” Sweat beaded across the old man’s face and rolled down his temples.

“Don’t fuck with me or Hale; I’ll kill you,” Laine warned him with absolute truth.

Linc swallowed, cutting himself further. There was no guilt, no hesitation in Laine’s eyes. This was someone who had killed before and felt no qualms or twinges of conscious over the act. In fact, Linc had a suspicion that Laine would only feel pleasure at Linc’s death. Not only that, but Linc would be ruined if his relationship to Albus became public. There was a reason he’d laid the name Aberforth Dumbledore to rest years ago, and he didn’t want it coming back.

He glared hatefully up at the teenager sitting on his chest. He had no choice. He had to capitulate with the brat’s demands. “I hear you.”

“Good.” Swift as a snake, Laine whipped the knife away and brought down the hilt hard against the man’s temple. Linc went limp, instantly unconscious.

xXx

Hale woke slowly as was his norm. Humming sleepily, he patted around for his glasses. As his searching fingers found them, he slipped the metal frames over his ears and blinked a few times. He immediately orientated on Laine. The older teen was sitting with his back to the headboard. He was already dressed in skinny, blue jeans and a black sweater. The sleeves were bunched up to his elbows. One knee was drawn up to Laine’s chest while the other leg dangled over the edge of the bed.

It wasn’t the posture that gave Laine away. It was the brooding look he aimed at the opposite wall, the frown tugging down his lips, and the way his eyes squinted just a bit with tension. Hale knew he’d had another dream vision. Sitting up, he felt the way his hair hung heavily to one side and sighed. He spared a brief envious glance at Laine’s perfectly straight hair hanging smoothly on either side of his face.

Laine tucked his long, silky bangs behind his ear as he turned and focused on him. “Good morning.”

Hale grinned and answered happily, “Morning.” Even after all these years, he felt warm when Laine greeted him when he woke. The Dursleys yanked him from sleep with orders. His first Master had ignored him until after he’d had at least two cups of coffee no matter how good Hale had been. In contrast, it was clear that he’d always come first with Laine.

Laine smiled and tousled his already sleep-mussed hair.

Hale moved to sit beside him, crossing his legs. “What are you thinking about?”

Laine said nothing at first and Hale didn’t press. He would tell Hale what he needed to know. After a moment, Laine turned to face him and gripped Hale’s face gently ensuring eye contact. “We can’t trust these people completely. We have to be more careful than ever before.”

“Yes, Laine. I’ll be careful,” Hale said obediently, although he felt a little disappointed. He wanted to be able to trust Remus and Armand. And he wanted to get to know their father. It still seemed utterly surreal that he might have a father and not ‘a worthless drunk who was better off dead’ like the Dursleys had told him. Hale was eager to get to know Severus better, but he’d been too shy to really talk to the man yet.

He’d be careful, but he’d also give the wizards a chance. Laine could sometimes be too overprotective. Sometimes he shut out good opportunities because he was afraid of them getting hurt. Hale respected the older teen and trusted him to know what was best in most situations, but when it came to trusting others Hale had to take the lead since Laine was simply incapable of it. It’d be nice to stop running. It’d be nice to finally have a real home again.

It was Hale’s deepest wish: to have a home they could keep more than a few weeks. A place with lots of food, where they’d never feel the deep aching hunger that haunted their last few years, somewhere Laine wouldn’t have to get hurt or work so hard to earn money. Maybe, just maybe, this could be such a place.

xXx

Remus watched as Severus’ anxiety grew by the minute. The boys were nearly an hour late for breakfast, but it wasn’t like Severus to be so worked up over something as trivial as two teenage boys sleeping in. Considering what Laine and Harry had been through these last few days, it wasn’t even surprising. Remus could only assume Severus’ tension was due to the potion he’d taken.

“Did last night go well? What did you see?” he asked quietly.

Severus looked away with a tight jaw.

“Severus?” Remus asked more urgently. His hands fisted as his pulse jumped. Tonks put her hand on his arm for support, her hair a droopy brown from worry.

A long moment of silence passed before Severus answered. “It was bad,” he admitted reluctantly in a whisper.

Severus still had his face averted, and Remus well knew that meant he didn’t want them to see what Severus deemed as weakness. Whatever Severus had seen had brought the indomitable man low. Remus looked to Armand for confirmation and the grief shining bright in the hazel eyes made Remus’ stomach bottom out. Tonks leaned heavy against his side, a shiver wracking her slender frame.

Pained, throat tight, Remus steeled himself to ask for details. Before he could, however, Laine strode into the room with Hale following at his heels.

The teen looked cool and confident. He wore sneakers, jeans, and a black sweater. His hair was hooked behind his ears, his part slightly to the left. Silver earrings glittered in his ears and rings glinted on his fingers. His stride was long and smooth. Behind him, Hale looked sleepy and content. His green eyes behind his glasses were bright and his mouth was smiling.

“Good morning,” the boy chirped.

“Morning,” Remus and Tonks answered feebly back.

“Good morning,” Armand answered more easily. The grief that had shown in his eyes had disappeared completely to be replaced by his more usual neutral expression.

Hale frowned as he took his seat. Concern grew on his face as he looked around the subdued table. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” Tonks straightened away from Remus’ side and pasted on a smile. She even forced her hair into tall spikes, the color brightening to sunshine yellow. “How’d you sleep?”

Laine stared at her, eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Hale smiled back. “Great! The bed’s so nice!”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Remus said softly, a genuine smile touching his face. His worry at Severus’ proclamation eased in the face of the boys’ clear good health.

“We need to concentrate on learning magic,” Laine said as he scooped eggs and other food items onto Hale’s plate. He eyed Armand as the man demurely ate his breakfast. There was still something about Armand that nagged at him.

“I agree,” Severus spoke up even though Laine had been looking at his friend when he’d spoken. “After breakfast, we can begin with a general overview. I have my old school texts. We can use those until we can get more updated publications.”

“Fine.” Laine waved his hand to show he was done with the conversation and went about making a plate for himself.

Hale smiled excitedly, his weight shifting in his chair. “I can’t believe we’re actually going to be learning magic spells and stuff. It’s so unreal!”

“I assure you it is real,” Tonks teased. Her eyes shifted into a green that matched Hale’s.

Hale grinned and stuck out his tongue. “Maybe for you.”

Severus straightened, Harry’s enthusiasm easing the last of his bad mood. “It will be difficult, but I’m certain you will learn quickly. You both have above-average power levels.”

Armand had a sneaking suspicion that magic for the boys would not be that easy. They were fourteen and sixteen respectively, and their magic had matured under unusual circumstances. He said nothing, however. He didn’t want to dampen the high-spirits in the room.

“Where’s Linc?” Tonks suddenly asked.

Armand turned her attention to her. “He requested that I unlock the floo for his use. He said he had business to attend to and that he’d return in a few days.”

“Can you unlock it for me, too?” Tonks asked. “I want to check on my parents. I’ll probably be back by tonight or tomorrow at the latest.”

“The barrier…” Severus reminded, eyebrow cocked.

Tonks flashed him a smile. “Mum turned her back on the Wizarding world when her family disowned her for marring my father.” She turned to the confused teens. “He was a Muggle, you see.” She shrugged. “Anyway, Mum’s magical so she wouldn’t be able to cross the barrier, but they live in the Muggle world, so they should be safe still. I should be able to contact them through Muggle means. You know...” she waggled her fingers playfully at Severus, “the amazing telephone and internet?”

Armand inclined his head. “Of course, Lady Tonks. The floo is opened to you.”

“Thanks!” Tonks gave her lover a lingering kiss on the cheek and stroked over his hair fondly when he blushed. “Bye, Remy.”

“Be safe,” Remus implored her, staring up into her face seriously.

Tonks saluted. “Will do!”

She came around to wrap Hale in a loose hug from behind while he still sat in his chair. Laine stiffed and his hand lifted to push her away, but she backed off before he could. She didn’t seem to have noticed the gesture, though, for she was still smiling with an absurd amount of cheer. “I want to hear all about the spells you learn today when I come back.”

“Good luck,” Hale called with a smile and a wave. “Bye!”

Tonks waved back at him. “Bye bye!” she said and walked right into the doorframe. “Omph!” Hale covered his mouth to hide his giggles and Remus shook his head in bemusement. Blushing, Tonks gave a weak wave and slipped from the room.

That left Remus, Severus, and Armand with the boys. Because there were five of them, they decided the more spacious sitting room would be the best location for the impromptu lesson. Armand took up a position by the door with his arms-crossed. Severus and Remus sat on the couch while the boys sat across from them on the loveseat.

What followed was a three hour lecture on the basics of magical theory delivered by Remus. Severus took the time to study his sons. Laine appeared to be listening intently, but he didn’t once ask a question or seek clarification. Hale, on the other hand, requested paper and pen nearly immediately. He positioned himself on the floor, his legs folded under him as he used the coffee table. He leaned to the left, his body resting lightly against Laine’s leg. He asked several questions and answered anything Remus or Severus asked to gauge his understanding and retention. Hale was a good student. Severus had no way of judging if Laine understood what he was being taught and it frustrated him.

After a light lunch, they returned to the sitting room for a few practical exercises.

“We’ll start with a first year charm. It’s a levitation spell,” Remus explained. He whistled and Hedwig flew into the room with a low hoot.

Hale’s face lit up. He held up his arm and the majestic owl settled near his elbow.

“Thank you, Harry.” Remus smiled and pointed his wand at the bird. A duplication spell later five white feathers were sitting on the coffee table between them.

Severus took over the lesson. “Put the bird on the seat back, Harry, and we’ll get started.”

Hale obeyed and Hedwig hooted again, nibbling at the wild black hair of her master. Hale giggled and Laine slanted him an indulgent look. The older teen mimicked the adults in front of him, lifting his wand parallel to the ground over a white feather. Severus demonstrated the wand movements with Remus echoing him at a slightly slower pace. Hale quickly got into position and copied the moves as well. They ran through the movements a few times until both boys had it down perfect.

“Now say, Wingardium Leviosa, picturing the feather lifting gently into the air.” Severus demonstrated, making his feather float a few feet off the table.

“Make sure you enunciate. Emphasize the ‘gar’ and ‘o’ sounds,” Remus added helpfully. “Win-gar-dium Levi-o-sa.”

Forty-five minutes later, Laine was beginning to question the wisdom of using wands. Sure he could get more elaborate and long-term effects with spells that his wandless magic couldn’t, but who cared about floating feathers? Hale watched worried as Laine blew up another feather. It was obvious the teen was struggling to do even that much. Laine’s face was damp and shiny from exertion, his hair hung limp and stuck to his cheeks and forehead making his resemblance to Severus obvious.

“You’re using too much magic. Do not put forth energy. The wand with draw as much as you need without assistance,” Remus repeated patiently.

Laine glared at him. “I don’t see how floating a stupid feather will help me protect Hale better.”

“It is lucky you are not the teacher then,” Severus snapped. “It is essential to learn the basics. This is a simple spell. There is no reason for you to be struggling so.” He gestured sharply to the feather in front of Harry that floated a few inches above the table. “Harry seems to have no such trouble. Perhaps because he put forth effort during the lecture on magical theory.”

Hale and Remus leaned back in their seats, eyes wide. They had no idea how to stop this fight.

Laine’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Do you want me to repeat back the lecture word for word? I can.”

“That is beside the point!” Severus glared, his composure breaking. “Try again! Let your magic flow through your wand.”

“I AM letting it fucking flow, you bastard!”

“Obviously you are not doing it successfully,” Severus snapped back.

“Maybe you just suck at teaching!” Laine was red-faced with fury. “I got the umbrella spell okay.”

Severus bared his teeth. “Then you should have no trouble with this. If you’d just do as you’re told…”

Laine flung his head back like a startled horse. “You want levitation, I’ll fucking give it to you!”

Pure magic writhed around Laine’s arms, so concentrated it became visible. The blue-tinged ropes of light snaked and lashed out at the air. Static made everyone’s hair except for Laine’s begin to stand on end. The furniture – all except the seats they were in – began to rattle and then lift into the air. Severus was forcibly reminded how powerful his son was. Not everyone could make their magic physically manifest on command. It was baffling to see such a controlled, powerful display of magic and watch the boy blow up feather after feather while trying to cast a simple spell.

Armand stepped forward, moving for the first time since the lesson had begun. Hale perked up. He gave the man a hopeful smile. He didn’t want Severus and Laine to fight, and if anyone could calm the two hot tempers, it would be Armand. “I may be able to help,” he offered.

Severus flushed a red to match Laine at the implication Armand would do better than he with the older teen, but he said nothing. Hale grabbed Laine’s now magic-free arm, love trust coursing through their bond.

Laine took a deep breath and let his anger go. He ran a hand through Hale’s hair, making the boy melt. Keep working with Severus and Remus. He stood and when Hale reached out to grab his shirt, Laine brushed his knuckles down Hale’s cheek. I’ll be fine.

Hale nodded, letting him go.

Laine didn’t look at the other two men as he stalked from the room. Hale would be safe enough as long as Laine didn’t go too far. Severus rubbed him the wrong way, but Laine trusted him with Hale. Remus, on the other hand, wasn’t trusted with Hale. Not when Laine constantly caught Remus staring at Hale with clear longing. The parlor was close enough, on the other side of the marbled foyer, and that was where he led Armand.

Laine crossed his arms as he turned to face the dark-skinned man. “Do you really think you’ll do better?”

“Of course not,” Armand returned easily. “I think you’ll do better.”

Laine cracked a grim little smile. “Alright, let’s do this.” He took up his wand again and cast Wingardium Leviosa for the hundredth time that day. He honestly tried to do as instructed let the wand draw the needed magic from his core, but something went wrong. It felt like the magic was being wrenched from him. Light sparked and sputtered at the end of his wand before flaring painfully bright and dying.

Armand waited for his eyes to clear before lifting his own wand. “The problem is that wand magic is in part passive, and you cannot be passive. You must always have control.”

“Are you calling me a control freak?” Laine asked evenly, blue eyes pinned to Armand. The man had his thick, wavy hair up in a bun at the base of his skull. He wore a cream-colored button-up with gold cufflinks. His slacks were a dark brown that was nearly black, his shoes matching. The earthy tones complimented his coloring. He was a beautiful man.

Armand bowed his head toward Laine, holding the pose for a long second before answering. “I would never imply you are a freak of any kind, but essentially, yes.”

Laine smirked. “Go on.”

“You’ll have to approach magic a little differently than most.” Armand raised his wand. “Lumos.”

He managed to cast extremely slowly without disrupting the spell. Laine remembered that Armand had done the same when he showed him the Umbrella Charm. As before, Laine felt the spell being cast whereas with Severus, and even Remus, it was too quick to really discern. He scrunched his brow and tried to duplicate it. It took half a dozen tries, but then his wand lit up as it should.

Laine stared at Armand, torn between a sense of accomplishment and dark suspicion.

Armand was aware of Laine’s tension but chose not to remark on it. “You will have to judge how much power is required for each spell and then memorize how to release exactly that amount.”

“How did you know?” Laine asked in a whisper, eyes narrowed. Did he know exactly how far Laine’s need for control went?

Armand tucked his wand away and placed his hands behind him at the small of his back. He shifted his gaze a little past Laine so their eyes were not locked. “I understand what you are to Hale and Hale to you.”

Laine took a threatening step closer to the other man. “And will you interfere?”

Armand shook his head gently. “No.”

Laine stopped his advance with a frown. That familiar feeling was back. For some reason Armand put him at ease. He believed the man when Laine trusted no one. Still suspicious, Laine let it go for now. He shifted his shoulders to ease the tension in them and lifted his wand again. “Let’s continue.”

Armand complied.

Laine focused completely on the magic, pushing everything else out of his mind for now.

xXx

Armand stepped silently into the dark potions lab underneath the house. Severus stood brewing, hands moving in precise sweeps and gestures as he chopped, sorted, and stirred. His lanky hair was already heavy from the fumes that swathed his face. Armand stopped just short of the man’s personal space and waited patiently for his friend’s attention. He stood there just short of an hour before Severus spoke.

“What do you want?”

Armand smiled softly. “You are not a bad father or a bad teacher.”

“Can he cast?” Severus didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge Armand’s statement in any way.

“He can.”

“Then that’s all that matters.”

Armand gave a short bow. He knew Severus would finish soon. Brewing potions was like meditation for Severus, and he’d need all the calm he could achieve before viewing the next set of memories. So Armand did as he was bid and gave Severus what he needed. He left the potions lab as silently as he’d come.

xXx

November, 1985

Ten years ago

Booming thunder encompassed the world. It rattled the walls and shook his bones. Freak darted forward where the door should be. It swung open as his slight weight pressed against it. Light flooded over him and into his sensitive eyes. Panting, he huddled in the hallway. A stick thin woman towered over him with a heavy metal ladle in her hands. She was the cause of the thunder, the god of his world.

“Get cleaned up, you worthless freak,” she hissed threateningly.

Freak nodded jerkily and scurried as fast as he could to the bathroom. Three days this time. He knew because he kept count of the meals they had in the kitchen. He could hear and smell everything from the cupboard. Meal time was the worst parts of his day… when hunger burned the brightest, the smells from the kitchen torture…

They had never locked him away for that long without at least opening the door to throw him bottled water. Seventy-two hours. He was good at counting even though he was only five. It kept him calm sometimes, to count and count and count…

The boy moaned in agony. His insides were on fire with need, but his mind was too numb to understand its message. Dots of light danced in his eyes so he shut them tight. He knew the way without them, anyway. Good thing because he was jumbled.

Another door banged against a wall as he stumbled through it. A cool tub pressed suddenly against his shaking hands. He flung himself forward, frantically searching for the faucet. Liquid bliss spilled over his mouth. His tongue, so swollen and dry, almost stopped it from passing into his throat.

Whimpering fills his ears. He imaged he’d turned into a puppy. What fun it’d be to have a tail! To be so small that he could hide safely away when his family was mad! But he deserved it. Didn’t he?

He shook his head and went back to daydreaming.

Maybe they’d love him if he were a puppy. Puppies were so cute and lovable, after all. They’d hold him, and feed him, and take him for walks. He could sleep curled up warm at the end of the bed. Or maybe they’d let him sleep outside with the wide open yard and a sky full of stars over him.

But it wouldn’t happen. Freak was a boy; a very bad, ungrateful boy. No one would ever love him.

Freak didn’t realize he was crying until the heavy hand hit him hard on the back of his head. He looked up through blurry eyes to see his aunt. She was screaming at him, but he couldn’t quite make out the words. It didn’t matter. He knew what she was saying. She only ever hit him with her hand if he was crying. Usually, she used a ladle, a pan, anything she could grasp to hit him with.

Guilt burned him like acid. He almost threw up the water he’d drunk. He’d made her touch him. Now she’d scrub her hands red to get his filth off her. He was so bad, so filthy.

Exhaustion wrapped around him. For the first time, he wanted to sleep and never wake up. He wanted to stop moving, stop breathing, stop hurting…. Just stop.

As if guessing he couldn’t hear her over the pounding in his ears, Aunt grabbed him by the arm and dragged him over to his cupboard. She reached in and took out the best of his secondhand clothes. Freak went to reach for them, but she yanked them away so she could throw them hard in his face.

He picked them up and shakily began putting them on. He pressed himself firmly against the stairs for protection.

Vernon came down and they all moved into the kitchen. The huge man kissed his wife good morning and patted his son proudly on the shoulder as he took the seat next to him. Petunia smiled and placed big plates of food in front of them both. Freak didn’t even look up. He knew he didn’t deserve food. Instead, he curled up and tried not to listen to the happy chatter going on at the table.

Aunt Petunia scrapped what was left on their plates, which wasn’t much, on the floor in front of him. “Eat quickly. And don’t leave a speck on my floor!”

Shocked and happy, Freak fell on the food and ate it straight off the floor, licking it up. A puppy, he was a puppy!

“Disgusting freak,” Vernon growled and stepped on his fingers.

Freak whimpered but didn’t stop eating. Dudley laughed and made barking sounds. Freak pretended that Dudley was playing a game with him because they were friends. Boys were always friends with their puppies.

“Go get your bag for school, Duddykins, and wash your face, love.”

Freak looked up to see her lovingly smooth Dudley’s blond hair and kiss his forehead. Dudley beamed at his mother before running out of the room. He wondered what this place called school was like. Aunt said he couldn’t go because everyone would see instantly what a freak he was. It sounded like a nice place, though; a place where you colored and played games outside and counted a lot.

“Wash the floor, freak,” Aunt growled, pulling him from his thoughts. “Your germs are all over it.”

Freak scrambled over to the sink and reached underneath for the cleaning supplies. He quickly cleaned the spot where he had licked the floor. Dudley had returned by the time he was done, and he scrambled back to his cupboard only to be drawn-up short by a meaty fist.

“Not today, boy. You’re coming with me.” Uncle lifted him to his feet and pulled him to the front door by his arm.

Freak was excited. He’d never been allowed outside before! That changed when he was taken to the back end of the car. The trunk lid was lifted and he stared in terror at the small hole. Uncle grabbed him by the neck of his shirt when he whined and tried to pull away. He lifted Freak completely off the ground, choking him.

“Keep your mouth shut, boy. You’re a worthless piece of shit, you filthy freak. No one wants to hear from you.”

Freak locked his jaw, keeping his cries silent as he was flung down into the trunk and the lid was closed. It seemed to go on for hours. The car was getting hot and the air tasted funny. Freak curled in a ball, crying silently. After a long time, he realized that he had to pee and he bit his lip. He knew if he peed himself in the car he’d get a beating for certain.

Finally, the car pulled to a stop. His uncle came around and opened the lid. Freak was dragged out by his arm. It hurt, but he was just so glad to be free. Freak looked around for a bathroom, but they were in a big parking lot.

“You’d better be good, freak, or you’ll regret it.”

Freak nodded vigorously and followed his uncle toward another car. Men climbed out when Uncle approached. They talked. Something about no one knowing about Freak. Uncle got a big, thick wallet and quickly turned back to his car. Freak tried to follow, but a strong arm wrapped around his middle and lifted him up. He grabbed onto the man so he wouldn’t fall.

“You’re coming with us, kid,” the man said gruffly.

“S-sir…” he stuttered as that arm pressed on his bladder. He was ignored and warm tears spilled down his cheek as he peed himself.

“What the fuck!” The man dropped him, face red with rage.

Freak’s whole body was jarred as he dropped painfully to the hard concrete. A kick slammed into his chest. Pain exploded as all the air was knocked out of his lungs, his body flying several feet. The shame and self-disgust that burned his insides hurt almost as much as the kick. As he lay, unable to breathe, he realized his uncle had finally gotten rid of him. His last thought was that he deserved it. Blackness pulled him under.

xXx

Thirty hours later

Cold November air seeped through the small holes on the top of his crate as Freak pressed himself against them. He’d woken up hours ago. Two hellish hours he’d huddled in the crate, knowing he couldn’t hope for better. Not even his family wanted him. Just thinking of them made him sick and afraid. Bruises bloomed on his shoulders and back from the jostling he had received during the flight. It had been so terrifying - the noise, the pressure - that he’d vomited bile. The smell clung to him and made his eyes sting. His legs burned from where he peed himself, a rash forming.

Just when he thought for sure he’d break and begin to cry, noises sounded throughout the large, cold place. Light broke the heavy darkness and he curled tighter to wait. Eventually people came and grabbed his crate. It tipped and slammed forward as he was dropped. Unprepared, his head cracked against the side of the kennel.

“Fuck!”

“Dog must've gotten sick.”

“I don’t know why these rich bastards have to tote their animals with them wherever they go.”

“Think of the animal. Poor things.”

“Poor things, my ass. They’re probably eating caviar off their master’s plates at night.”

They laughed.

Freak wasn’t tempted to cry out. He knew better. No one wanted to hear from freaks. Even if they saw him, they wouldn’t help. Bad boys deserved punishment. Head spinning, sick and exhausted from fear, he tumbled into darkness.

xXx

the Hold

Locked in the empty bottom of a boat, damp wood creaked and swayed encircling the kids trapped inside. The only source of light came from four dim electric lamps. The only noise was the sound of the choppy waves surrounding them and the bleak sobs of children. They were in the Hold, or as Laine liked to call it, Hell. Nearly a dozen, naked children huddled under blankets. Some were crying; others stared despondently. Soon they’d be sold on the black-market to clubs and rich men, to seedy doctors for their organs and blood. The lucky ones would be illegally adopted.

Laine shifted uncomfortably. His back ached horribly with even the slightest movement, but he’d have to get up soon. It was almost feeding time and it was his job to tend to the goods.

He was used to children coming and going. None stayed long. This was just a holding place before the goods were sent elsewhere. He had enough going on just trying to keep himself out from under the Master’s sadistic punishments, so it sucked that he had to share his corner with the new brat. Especially since the kid was so young; the young ones like this were so whiny!

Fortunately, he only rarely had to deal with very little kids. Too young and they were only good for one or two weeks, the abuse eventually killing them. Laine had been taken when he was as little as this boy, but his secret power had kept him alive. Most of the others down here were Laine’s age or a few years older.

The little boy at his side stirred. The messy head of dark hair lifted, revealing a gaunt, frightened face. Laine saw that expression every day, and he scowled in annoyance that he’d have to deal with a weepy kid when all he wanted was some time to rest. “Bout time ya got up.”

The boy blinked large eyes, obviously not tracking things well.

Laine eyed the skeletal chest littered in old and new bruises. Unknowingly, his face softened. “I’m Laine. I saved you food.” He freed his arms from under his thin blanket and handed over a bit of bread and cheese.

Two huge eyes stared up at him in shocked wonder, as if Laine were the most amazing person in the world. Surprised at the unusual reaction, Laine shifted uncomfortably and shoved the food closer. The boy reached for it and froze as he caught sight of the thin red welts and cuts striping Laine’s arm like a candy cane from wrist to shoulder. A little hand wrapped around his to pull it closer.

“What’re you doin’? Let it alone,” he snarled, half in pain and half in anger at the contact. He hated being touched.

“You’re hurt,” the boy rasped.

“Shit, you think?” He yanked his arm away. “Jus’ eat.”

The boy ducked his head, distressed, but he said no more and obediently picked up the food. However, the deep dark eyes never left the injured arm.

Laine watched as the boy chewed slowly. The kid was crying, his tears wetting the hard bread. Feeling a pang of pity for the obvious pain caused by the simple act of eating, Laine figured maybe he could talk to the brat some, keep him distracted and quiet. “People wanna adopt kids, you know? But gettin kids is hard. Takes lots of time and money, so they pay for kids from the black-market. It’s like a secret store. Your here ‘cause someone wan’ed a kid like you, and the sellers found you. This is the place the kids who’re for sale are held, but you won’t be ‘ere long. Your new mom and dad will pick you up soon.”

“I never had a mummy and daddy ‘afore,” the boy mumbled, still nibbling at the bread. “Are you going to be ‘dopted, too?”

“Nah.” Laine’s voice turned brittle as he considered his own situation. “Most here don’ go to adoption. People need toys ta play with. I was a toy but no good at it. Woulda killed me ‘sept the Master thought I could be useful. Most of these others will be toys, too.”

“How can you be a toy?” the boy whispered, hunching away as if afraid to be struck for the question.

Laine shrugged, tense. “It ain’t a good thing, so be glad you’re goin’ to a mommy.” He felt a flare of jealousy at that reminder and glared hotly.

The boy whimpered, flinching.

Laine nodded, satisfied that his feelings were understood, and turned his back. He was done talking to the kid. He closed his eyes, cheek against his knees, trying to rest. His greasy, shoulder-length hair fell into his face, further shielding him. However, before he got too far into his quiet place, the Hold door banged open. The children jumped. Some began crying loudly in fear. Laine tensed. Whenever he had to bring up kids to show for a potential buyer or for photos, the Master liked to play with him a bit and he’d hardly recovered from the last games. Stupid kid bothering him and taking up all his rest time.

“Laine! Bring up the Angels.”

He obediently stood and stepped forward, the blanket falling away from his naked, scarred body. He gestured to the group of blonde kids. Most stood obediently, too scared to do anything else. The two that refused to move, he took by the hand. The rest followed him like ducklings as he led them over to the stairs. They began the long climb toward the massive body blocking the bright light from the other side.

This doesn’t matter. I can’t change anything. I just have to survive, he told himself sharply. I have to survive so I can kill the bastard and escape.

By the time he reached the top and stepped within reach of his Master, the fear and anger slowly disappeared. So did everything else. He was empty. Nothing could hurt him anymore.

A large hand, almost as big as his head, reached for him. The thick fingers wrapped around his neck and squeezed cruelly. Blood and oxygen were immediately denied him, and Laine swayed, knowing he’d black out in seconds if he wasn’t released. He prayed that Master would hold on. He didn’t want to be awake for this.

xXx

Three hours later Laine led the children back down into the dark, damp of the Hold. He stood stiffly, holding his body rigid in the hopes that if he didn’t move the pain would lessen. The children were crying softly, clinging to each other. Two were missing. Laine put them back in their corner and whispered that they needed to be quiet. Task done, Laine returned to his corner. He hesitated when he saw the small body curled up there. He’d forgotten about the boy.

His best bet would be to ignore the pest. Laine slowly crouched and dropped carefully into a sitting position. His breath hissed out as dots danced before his eyes. Thin strips of skin an inch wide were peeled from his chest, leaving bare, oozing muscle. His throat burned from all the screams his Master had torn from him.

As soon as the boy saw the wounds, his little face twisted with horror. Laine would have snapped at him, but he was ignoring the kid and thus couldn’t talk to him. Instead, he closed his eyes and began to mentally map out the groups of kids he was supposed to take care of. He often did this just to get away from the pain for a while and to be sure he didn’t forget anything. He didn’t want to give his Master any more excuses to hurt him.

The first group was called the Angels – unused, blond children. The second group was called Brats. These were the unused dark-haired children. The Darks were the third group. They were the unused children who weren’t white. Newbie’s were any kids, no matter their coloring, who were older than ten and had no experience. The last and smallest group was called Pets. They were the children with experience as toys or slaves. Pets were always least in demand. Laine was technically a Pet, and he was the youngest of that group.

A single tray of food was delivered twice a day; one at dawn, the second at dusk. It always had a good amount on it. Laine rotated who received food. Sometimes if a child was being especially difficult, he’d withhold food from the whole group. The rest of the hungry children would then gang up on the trouble maker and Laine’s problem would be solved.

He thought it was one of his better ideas. He remembered what he’d been willing to do for food when he’d been hungry and thought it would work well here, too. And he didn’t want to have to fight with the bigger, older kids, especially since he was hurt all the time. Thankfully, most of the new kids were scared and weren’t up to challenging him. They’d be gone soon anyway.

His thoughts were broken when he felt something damp touch one of the cuts on his stomach. He flinched, his eyes flying open as terror sent his heart rocketing. Sweat rolled down his face and chest. The salt stung, adding to his misery. Laine quickly registered what had touched him. It wasn’t his Master. It was that annoying little boy again. He was kneeling in front of Laine, a dirty blanket in his hand.

Laine hissed and shoved him hard. He’d learned that it was better to let his wounds heal without aid than to clean them up with anything down here. His last bout with fever had been a nightmare that he never wanted to experience again.

“Sorry. Just wan’ed to help.” The boy ducked his head. Dark messy hair spilled forward and hid his vulnerable expression. “Didn’t it feel better?”

Laine was about to snap that of course it hadn’t when he paused. Now that he was thinking about it, his stomach did hurt less. He looked down and his eyes widened. The oozing muscle the boy had been tending had stopped bleeding and had scabbed over. Even better, it was now pleasantly numb. “It does,” he whispered, awed.

“I can do the rest. Please?”

Laine was too shocked to say anything.

The boy took that as permission. He grabbed the blanket and dipped it in his cup of water again. Delicately, with all the care in the world, he began to wipe at the injuries once more. Laine sat still under the gentle ministrations. He felt tears burn his eyes as the constant pain he lived with began to diminish. The cooling sensation spread. It felt like heaven.

The boy stopped, misunderstanding his tears. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“No.” Laine quickly brushed away his tears. “It jus’ don’t hurt no more.”

The little boy smiled a blindingly bright smile; one so pure that Laine felt it on his skin, like how he imagined warm sunlight would feel. He let the kid continue to heal his many wounds, just soaking in the sensation of being cared for. He stared down at the boy’s head and felt that a strange tight sensation in his chest.

He noticed instantly when the hand granting him such rare relief wavered. The kid was paler than ever before. His eyes were half closed with exhaustion and his whole body shook slightly. The blanket fell from the trembling hand, and the boy was about to topple over when Laine grabbed him.

“Sorry,” the child whispered. “Wan’ed to finish.”

“You did,” Laine lied easily, shocked a second time when he realized the boy had hurt himself. For Laine. Even though Laine had been mean to him. “I feel all better now.”

“Tired,” the kid confessed.

“Sleep. I’ll take care of you.”

The boy smiled tearfully, soft sobs shaking through the tiny shoulders for several minutes before he finally succumbed to sleep.

Laine lay on his healed side, staring at the sleeping boy beside him. “I’ll take care of you,” he repeated before he too drifted into surprisingly peaceful dreams.

xXx

May 24^th, 1995

Zabini Manor, Italy

“Harry…” Severus moaned, eyes snapping open. He was drenched in sweat and his heart raced in his chest. He jerked away as something touched his face.

“It’s me,” Armand voiced softly.

Severus felt himself relax as his friend bathed his face with a cool cloth in silence. He appreciated the time to gather his composure. It wasn’t getting any easier to witness the lives of his sons. He dreaded what would happen to them. But how could he be any less strong than his children? They had survived that hell. Severus had no right to fall apart just from witnessing the horror.

“Some would say Harry had it better. At the Dursley’s, he wasn’t hurt the way Laine was abused. He wasn’t molested or raped.” Severus pulled away from his friend’s gentle ministrations. He sat up and grabbed a potion sitting ready at his bedside. It was a simple painkiller. The headache throbbing behind his eyes threatened to develop into a migraine if he didn’t take care of it. He looked over to see Armand sitting next to him, calm and patient as always. “They’d be wrong.”

Severus looked away, staring at the far wall. “The Dursley’s didn’t molest Harry, but they made him think he was disgusting. They called him a freak so much that Harry believed it was his name. He felt guilty for being struck because he’d made them touch a filthy thing like him. At least Laine fought. At least he knew it was wrong. Harry was shipped in a dog crate across the sea on a Muggle airplane and he didn’t call out once for help! Workers were standing right there, laughing, thinking Harry was a rich person’s animal. Harry could have gotten help, but he literally couldn’t imagine being given any!” Severus choked and went silent. The pain he felt for the broken five-year-old was excruciating.

Armand wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I’m sorry, Severus.”

He shook off the comforting arm. He didn’t deserve it. “Harry was taken to a boat and thrown in the cargo hold,” Severus rasped. He wanted to get this over with. “There were so many children there. A whole catalogue of children to be trained and raised as toys! The Dark Lord would have been pleased and taken copious notes!” His laugh was bitter and short lived. “That’s where they met. Laine’s master owned the boat, and Laine worked in the hold, keeping the kids calm and organized.”

“How old were they?” Armand asked softly.

Severus leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, and put his head in his hands. Two nights of memories and they were still very young children. How many more nights would it take to see the entirety of their pasts? “Laine’s nearing seven if he isn’t already. Harry just turned five a few months prior.”

“They’re here. They’re healthy and strong,” Armand repeated. “We’ll protect them.”

Severus said nothing, too overwhelmed to speak.

A crack signaled the arrival of a house elf. It had a beatific smile on its face. “Master Armand, Mistress is home! She wishes to see you in the sitting room!”

Chapter end.

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Freedom In Chains