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Freedom Bound in Chains	By : TaintedSensibly Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 58478 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 13
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Harry Potter characters. I did not make money from this story.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Chapter WARNING: Bath play with minors (kinda?)

Thank you SlythindorMalfoy, and DinaTheCat, and unlikely-yaoi_pairing for reviewing. I really appreciate it. This chapter is for you guys!

Escape

It had been two months since Draco had devised his strategy to keep Harry. Fortunately, the Brats were only summoned three more times since then, the trend was for Angels and Darks. Life settled into a rhythm pretty quickly and soon it felt like they had always been together in the damp, dark swaying Hold of the boat. Harry continued to heal Draco as much as Draco allowed him, the blond afraid the Master would get suspicious. Draco was also afraid that time was running out.

Harry was on his stomach, bare as the day he was born. He was making a pyramid with bread crumbs. His dark head of messy hair was thick and wild. His cheeks had a healthy flush and his little tongue poked out between his petal lips. Although the little boy was still thin, Draco could no longer see Harry's ribs and knees. He felt proud that he was taking such good care of Harry, but at the same time the boy was now more desirable. The Master was bound to get suspicious why no one wanted him.

Harry glanced up and gave Draco a sweet smile. Draco smiled back, unwilling to frighten the boy. He just had to think of a plan. And really, there was only one plan worth considering at this point: Escape. Draco stared upward, his eyes unfocused. He'd been obsessively thinking about escape for over a year now, ever since he'd been brought to this Hell. It wasn't going to be easy.

The Master always remained aboard and had five to ten handlers working the boat at all times. The yacht they were on, Draco had learned, was called The NorthStar. The Master only docked to pick up clients. It was never the same dock twice, but Draco was able to pick up that they were still in New York and The NorthStar traveled up and down the Hudson mostly, although they did occasionally go out to sea to avoid police notice.

The best Draco could figure it, escape was only possible two ways. One: slip off the boat and onto the docks somehow when clients were on board and security was most lax. He didn't really see this as possible unless there were some type of large commotion. Two: jump off the boat when a storm hits. Everyone bunked down in a storm. It was most possible to escape off the boat without notice then. However, Draco wasn't stupid. The chances of survival in the Hudson or the ocean during a storm wasn't very good. Plus, he now had Harry. He doubted the boy could swim at all, let alone manage storm-thrashing waves.

Which all led back to the fact that Draco hadn't escaped yet. He kept telling himself to wait for the right moment, but it had been over a year and no moment had come. And now he had Harry to worry about. The boy wouldn't make it in the Hold much longer. The Master didn't like to keep the same kid for more than three months. He called it good policy. Draco was running out of time, and he had no idea what to do.

“Draco?”

He blinked and saw that Harry was kneeling next to him. His big green eyes peered into his face anxiously. Draco offered a smile and pulled the boy into his side. “It's okay. I'm just thinkin'.”

Harry snuggled in, his hands gently stroking Draco's stomach, making Draco want to melt into a puddle of goo. Draco dropped his cheek on top of the boy's messy hair and took a deep breath. Harry even smelled good.

He'd have to go with option one: escape when the boat was docked. As for the needed commotion, if Draco could get close enough to the Master somehow and bite him, he'd kill the bastard once and for all. That was what Draco most wanted in all the world, but the Master was usually very, very good about keeping some space between them. At least until Draco was in a position where he couldn't bite or was nearly unconscious with pain. But if he could do it, if he could kill the Master, that could be what he needed to escape.

Draco's breath slowed and deepened. This would have to be done perfectly. “Harry,” he said and gripped the boy's hair gently, pulling so the boy was looking up at him. “I wanna play a new game. I wantcha to run up the stairs and back. I wanna see how fast you can do it.”

Harry smiled, all eagerness to please him. “Okay, Draco!” He jumped to his feet and ran for the stairs.

“Quiet!” Draco hissed. “Ya gotta do it real quiet, too!”

The little boy nodded his head. He took a funny running position and then went as fast as he could up the stairs, quiet and light on his feet. When he came back down, he was red-cheeked and panting. His grin lit up the dark.

“How'd I do, Draco?” he asked.

Draco counted the steps: ten. Harry was already breathless. They'd be caught in minutes. He shook his head with a mock frown. “Nah. You could do better. Watch.” Draco ran up the steps, down, back up again, and down before he was panting. That wasn't really impressive either. He'd have to practice with Harry.

“Wow, Draco!” Harry bounced on his toes. “You're fast!”

“You're turn.” Draco smiled and gave Harry a push. The boy obediently ran up the stairs agin.

They took turns racing up the steps, playing Draco's “game” until their calves and lungs burned. Even though Draco pushed him, Harry never complained or balked. Dripping with sweat, visibly trembling and hardly staying on his feet, Harry got into position again and again. Draco was just as weak, red-faced and cramping, he flung himself at the stairs again and again.

“Okay...” Draco finally gasped. “Enough... Let's take... a break.”

They collapsed on their blankets, dripping sweat. Draco smiled. The little boy was so cute with his face flushed and his wild hair heavy with salty sweat. Harry smiled back, happy to have Draco's attention. The tray was delivered. Draco forced his feet under him and jogged up the stairs.

He almost dropped it on the way down, but he managed to keep it steady. He placed four of everything next to Harry and brought the tray to the Pets. The kids were staring at him wide-eyed. They thought he had lost his mind.

Draco dropped the tray carelessly, eyes soulless. “Eat.”

The kids scrambled for the food. Draco turned his back in disgust and went to make sure Harry ate his portion.

xxx

Ten food trays came and went, signaling the passing of about five and a half days since the start of their “game”, and they could now do ten sprints up the stairs before they really began to feel it. Draco was stronger and faster than Harry, but he was also bigger by a few inches and heavier.

Red-faced, sweaty, Draco smiled at Harry. “You're getting good.”

The little boy was bent over, hands on his knees as he gasped in breaths, but he was beaming at Draco's praise.

Suddenly the door opened with a bang. Draco moved instantly. He grabbed Harry's wrist, tight enough to bruise, and practically dove away from the light and toward their blankets. Without missing a beat, he began rubbing Harry down with a blanket while Harry clumsily tried to do the same for Draco as the Master yelled for the Brats.

Heart pumping smooth, Draco's eyes hardened. He could feel it. This was it. He was going to kill the Master today. “You gotta do exactly what I say, okay?” he demanded, grabbing Harry by the wrist agian and towing him over to the group of three Brats.

“Yes, Draco,” Harry whispered, eyes wide and frightened. “I'll be good.”

Draco softened his hand and pet the boy's hair softly, talking fast. “The Master is going to get real sick. It's not gonna be pretty, but you gotta ignore it and run, okay? You gotta go fast, Harry. You can't let nobody grab you, you hear me?”

Terror stole across Harry's face as his breath came fast. “Draco?”

“What the hell's taking you so long, slut! Move it!” the Master bellowed.

Draco turned and practically leapt on the youngest of the Brats, a kid only a little bigger than Draco. He reached between the boy's thighs and pinched right behind the balls. He knew from experience that was a very sensitive spot. The boy howled in agony.

“Got a crybaby,” he called. “We're on our way up!”

He turned back to an almost frozen Harry and fisted his hair firmly, getting Harry's attention, but he kept his voice low and soothing. “You just be fast and listen to me right away. You do that and I'll be so happy. You want to make me happy, right?”

Harry gasped and his fear melted a little into something more determined. “Okay, Draco. I'll be good.”

Draco flashed his eyes to the kids. “Move,” he growled, low and menacing.

The kids scrambled up the stairs, the boy he'd pinched limping and sobbing. Harry walked just behind the kid with Draco taking the rear, almost pressing against his back. It was a comforting feeling.

They stepped into the hallway and Draco was yanked back by his arm and backhanded viciously in the face, over mouth and cheek. Lips split and fresh blood spilled. It spattered his bruised and scarred torso. The red color sat vibrant on his pale, sun-starved skin.

Draco stared up at Raymond, unaffected, grey eyes dull.

Raymond grabbed the boy by the hair and tilted Draco's head back on his slender neck to the point Draco made a wheezing sound as he breathed. “Don't ever keep me waiting, slut,” he growled in the boy's face. He flung him forward toward the clutch of frightened Brats, cowering against the walls of the hallway. “Get them cleaned up. But not you, Draco. I want to see all that lovely red on you.”

Draco took Harry and the crying boy by the hand and lead them to the room with tiled floors and soapy buckets. He snarled at the others to clean off and saw to Harry himself. Those green eyes were still too wide, but he wasn't shaking. He watched Draco's every move, ready to obey.

Draco grinned and kissed him hotly, practically shoving his tongue in Harry's mouth. The boy would have melted against him, but he held him back, afraid Harry would erase the blood on Draco's skin. Their mouths came apart, spit and blood strung between them. Draco tongued his lip and felt it was still busted. Harry hadn't healed him without permission.

“You're such a good boy, Harry,” he praised, causing the boy to blush and duck his head.

Draco smoothed his hand over Harry's bare shoulder and reached for the sponge in the soapy water. He soaped the boy's chest, over the pink nipples, and thin stomach.

“You keep focused on me. Do everything I say, Harry, and we'll live together, away from here. Promise. I'll take real good care of ya, Harry.”

Draco moved the soft sponge up between Harry's legs before he turned him and had him bend forward. Harry pressed his hands flat to the wall, pliant in Draco's hands.

“Love you, Draco.”

“Love you, too,” Draco whispered, voice raw as he ran washed between Harry's cheeks and over the tiny hole. The boy gave him no resistance. He was loose and relaxed, trusting Draco completely. Heart thumping, he stood and dropped the sponge back in the bucket. “Let's dry you off.”

Gathering a white towel, he held his arms open to the green-eyed boy. Harry turned into Draco's fluffy embrace happily. He practically rubbed against the towel, enjoying the touch of the soft cotton as Draco patted him down. A small sound escaped him, almost like a purr.

Draco promised himself he'd give Harry more things to enjoy and feel against his skin. He'd give Harry real food, warm food, that would fill him up. He'd give him sunshine and laughter. He would! They'd get out of here and Draco would make everything good for Harry.

xxx

Draco stepped into the viewing room last, herding the kids. He kept Harry right in front of him and within reach. He was on high alert. Master stood a few feet away like always. He'd only step close if he came up behind Draco. There was only one man in the room, but Draco knew instantly this wasn't just any rich bastard who loved to use kids.

He sat on the couch. There were no jokes and posturing. There was no drink in his hand. He sat with his ankle resting on his knee, his slacks fitting perfectly so only a little of his boots - leather and pointed slightly at the tip - could be seen. He wore a silk button up of steel-grey. His arms rested along the back of the couch, his body language open and commanding. His brown hair was swept back off his square face. His eyes were a dark blue. There was no gray in that hair and his body was not fat. He was thin and muscled. He did not engage the Master, merely looked over the Brats that Draco ushered in.

This wasn't what Draco would have wanted, but nothing had changed. He couldn't stay another night trapped on this boat. He knew it in his gut. Harry wasn't safe here anymore. Draco would find a way to destroy the world before he let Harry suffer. Not his Harry.

As if sensing Draco's thoughts, green eyes peered over a thin, bare shoulder to meet his eyes. Draco stared back unblinking, eyes fierce. Harry's eyes dropped and he looked ahead once more. Draco let his lips curl up in a slight smile.

“I don't want them on the table,” the man spoke, voice deep and even. He moved an arm to point at the floor in front of his crossed legs. “Here. And give me a twirl.”

As Draco led the first Brat forward, he met the man's eyes, trying to see which way he'd jump when Draco made his move. Interestingly enough, the man stared back, not once looking at the trembling Brat quietly crying. Wary, Draco stared back, taking in every tiny detail until they reached the indicated spot.

Draco turned an uncaring eye to the child and applied pressure to the girl's shoulder. “Turn.”

The girl began to do so, but clumsy and fast.

“Slower,” Draco hissed.

The girl did as she was told and Draco briefly stroked her shoulder in praise to keep her calm. He split his attention between the girl and the man. He realized he hadn't met a man like this one and had no way to guess what he'd do.

xxx

Brendon watched the small blond boy with his undivided attention as he led a naked little girl forward. Even the strongest men or women quailed under his gaze. The boy, however, merely watched back, one wolf-minded soul evaluating another.

He'd been sent here to gather a toy for his brother's business associate. He could care less what weak-minded men sought for pleasure. The fake dominance and illusion of power disgusted Brendon. He figured he'd pick the first child he was shown and go home, but the boy interested him.

He almost chuckled as the boy effortlessly mastered the terrified child, having her bend to his will with perfect control. He knew without a doubt that these games disgusted the boy as well, and not for the reasons an abused child would find it so.

Brendon's eyes lifted to the seller, really seeing him for the first time. Raymond was all bulky weight, dark hair, and mean eyes. The type who believed he could master the world by beating it into submission.

The second child was brought forward. A boy.

If Brendon exerted himself at all, in less than a week he could have Raymond hanging on his every word, desperate to please him, and Brendon wouldn't have to beat him once. Because the truth was, the man was weak-souled. He had no true self-control and therefore could never truly dominate another. He could only abuse, terrify, break. That's why the pathetic bastard had been attracted to the business of selling children in the first place.

Brendon really did smile as he looked back to the little blond. Raymond had only half-convinced himself that he controlled the little one, but the truth was clear for all to see. Even though the boy showed evidence of sustained abuse - bruises, scars, blood-coated skin, underfed and pale from lack of sunlight - it was the man who stood out of reach, who approached the boy carefully. Oh, he postured well, but Brendon could see it plainly. The boy was half in control already.

The third child was brought forward. Another girl.

All throughout the lovely show of true control, those grey eyes would flash over, keeping Brendon in sight, watching every move Brendon made. They were bright with adrenaline, burning with repressed action, and Brendon began to realize that the young child was about to make a move. The boy was furiously working to place the unexpected Brendon into his likely very carefully crafted plans.

And then something beautiful happened. The boy took the smallest and fourth child by the wrist.

To the untrained eye, the boy repeated the exact same routine he had with the other children. But Brendon was different. He felt his pulse jump as the dark-haired boy's eyes lifted to the blond's face the instant he was touched. They dropped to the floor not because the dark-haired child wanted them to but out of obedience. He'd been told to look away, likely before they'd entered the room.

The little boy moved with the blond in perfect tandem, attuned to the blond's every move. His wolf-boy's whole demeanor changed. It became charged with power and purpose. Those eyes were no longer grey as they stared Brendon down but shining disks of silver, looking more wolf-like than ever.

Brendon instinctively tensed, shifting his weight and putting his feet flat on the floor at this genuine challenge. He had to breathe deep to relax again. He had no interest in touching what was not his, and the little dark-haired boy was very clearly not his.

Brendon's amusement and pleasure at meeting a like-minded soul disappeared in a flash. Indomitable or not, the blond was a child. He'd survive this place, it would actually forge him into an unstoppable force, but the dynamics had shifted completely once the blond had bonded the submissive. The blond would not be able to protect the dark-haired boy here and that would be absolutely unacceptable. The boy was planning on making a break for it.

The small brunet was turning in a graceful circle, his body unconsciously leaning toward his blond protector. The blond was staring at Brendon fiercely, his hand briefly flickering to caress and sooth the smaller boy. Brendon met that shinning silver gaze and inclined his head.

“Good choice!” Raymond suddenly boomed.

Brendon's eyes flashed up to meet the man's. “I'll take him now.” Rising gracefully to his feet, he flicked his fingers. “You have this one well trained,” he remarked. “I hope I can expect the same from the other.” - He very carefully did not say 'with mine'.

Raymond's piggy eyes squinted as he grinned. He moved closer to them, strutting and sticking out his chest, proud and showing off - weak. “Draco is mine.” He reached forward to lay a possessive hand on the boy's head. “You'll have to...”

Fast as a striking snake, Draco whipped around and lunged at that hand. Brendon's face split into a fierce grin as he heard the little boy growl as he clamped down, tearing flesh with his bare teeth.

xxx

Heart pounding with searing hatred, the world slowed into crystal images. He felt the Master reach for him. Thousands of hours under this bastard boiled to the surface. All the screams, the agony, blood, cum, and tears built into a ferocious growl as he turned on the bastard at last.

Draco felt hot, throbbing power deep in his gut as he launched himself forward and bit down on the man's guilty hands. Skin tore, blood splashed his tongue, and Draco howled in victory as all that hatred and pain and power lashed forward faster than any whip ever could into that open wound.

Raymond flung him away with a furious, terrified bellow. The sheer force of the blow sent Draco skidding across the floor until he came up hard against the legs of the table. Draco practically howled with laughter. He sprang to his feet to see Raymond stagger back, face already swelling and going splotchy. Then the man collapsed and began to seizure. Draco darted his eyes to the buyer, but he was staring at Raymond in fascination.

“Run!” Draco barked.

Harry moved instantly. The little boy bolted for the only door. Draco was hot on his heels. One more look back and he saw the buyer chuckling, and then his eyes faced front, on his boy.

“Right!”

They careened around the corner and sprinted down the hallway. Draco shouted directions. They finally reached a ladder and they scrambled up it, still not out of breath. The hatch at the top took both of their shoulders to open and the night air poured over their faces.

Draco shoved Harry up, found the dock on the far right and pushed Harry that way.

“Hey!”

“Stop!”

The cries came from different directions and Draco pounded after Harry, glancing left and right to see huge men running toward them. One lifted a metal gun. Draco flung himself forward and tackled Harry to the ground just as a bang sounded.

Grabbing Harry roughly by the arm, he pulled the smaller boy to his feet. “Keep low! Go fast!”

Draco's bare feet slip-slid on the varnished deck as he scrambled after his boy. Harry was gasping now, clearly terrified. Draco was too focused to be scared. The boat dipped and swayed gracefully against the level wooden dock. It was all he could see.

“Jump!” he screamed and shoved the boy forward.

Harry made the leap and crumpled to his knees as the second shot went off. Draco felt something push him forward in mid leap. He sailed over the dock and almost went into the water on the other side.

Harry was screaming. There was pain. Searing pain.

Draco shoved it aside as he rolled, hands clawing at the wooden planks to stay on top. He felt several nails tear away. He grit his teeth and stood, fury moving him forward. He was not going to get this far only to fail.

“Run, Harry! RUN!” he snarled.

The boy's eyes were wild, but he spun and took off down the dock toward the shore. Draco stumbled a few steps before catching his stride.

“Brendon O'Shea!”

Draco looked back at the yell, but he didn't slow. The buyer had a gun and was blocking the dock so the Master's men couldn't shoot or go after them. He gave Draco a jaunty salut. Draco whipped his head forward before he caught his foot on something and wiped out. He saw Harry reach land. People were screaming as the naked boy ran past. Draco pinned his stare on that bare back and ran.

xxx

All the screaming and running and loud bangs were bad, but the image of blood spraying out of Draco's shoulder was the worst. But Draco had said to run, so Harry ran. He wanted to make Draco happy. He wanted to be good the way he was only with Draco. Draco loved him. He would make everything okay if Harry could just listen and be good.

Sobbing, Harry practically collapsed in a tiny alley only a few feet wide. He couldn't run any more. His side hurt bad and his feet were throbbing in hot agony. He looked behind him, and for a terrifying moment, Draco wasn't there. Then the blond was filling the mouth of the alley and stumbling in after Harry.

Harry gave a cry of utter relief and practically flung himself at the blond. Draco gave a cry of his own, but he caught Harry and held him close. They were both panting, their bare chests rising and falling rapidly, slick with sweat. Harry's fingers ghosted over Draco's shoulder and he moaned at the gushing blood and hole he found. Draco put his back to the alley wall and slid down before tipping over completely.

“Draco!” Harry screamed, more terrified in that moment than he had been all night. “DRACO!”

He knelt and put his mouth to the gushing wound. Swallowing quickly as his mouth was filled again and again, Harry wrapped his body around the other boy's. He closed his eyes and just let himself fall into everything that was Draco:

Kisses gentle touches watching eyes smiles food love warmth being needed being wanted promises rules being good Draco Draco DRACO

Harry gave it everything he had. Until the world greyed out and Harry felt like they were swaying, like back on the ship. Until the mouthfuls slowed and his belly was almost too full of the hot liquid that was Draco.

xxx

Draco moaned as he was drug back to consciousness. Pain and pleasure pounded him in waves that slowly ebbed and he realized he'd already reached the peak and was falling down the other side. He barely remembered the alley and didn't remember passing out at all. All he knew was he was laying on slick pavement, Harry was wrapped around him and was burning hot as a furnace.

He lifted himself up on his elbow and hissed as his shoulder pulled. Harry's mouth fell away from his skin and he saw a ragged circle of raw skin where he'd been shot. He felt only a little light-headed and knew Harry had just saved his life.

He cradled the boy's head gently to his chest as he sat more fully. Harry was almost completely out. He was ghostly pale and looked as thin has he had when he first arrived in the Hold. All the extra weight Draco had managed to put on the boy was gone. The green eyes were dark. Harry was losing consciousness.

“Harry,” Draco rasped. He shifted the boy up so he was more firmly in his arms, his head resting on Draco's shoulder. “Harry. We're free. You did so good, Harry. I love you so much. We're free!” he laughed for the first time in years. “Free!”

Harry gave a weak whine, eyes fluttering closed.

Draco had never felt so full of emotion. He stared into Harry's lax face, the boy having spent everything he had to save Draco. He stared and felt such pure love that he didn't think he'd ever be able to contain it without bursting.

The feeling grew and grew until Draco was panting harshly and tears spilled over his cheeks. He stared until he was suddenly curling forward and putting his mouth on Harry's shoulder, on the place that mirrored where Draco had been shot and saved. He put his mouth on that spot and bit down, letting his love spill forward into that broken skin.

Draco's eyes widened, shocked at what he was doing, but he could feel his power wasn't going to hurt Harry. He'd never hurt Harry.

He felt all the blood that Harry had swallowed, felt his power reach for that blood in Harry's belly, Draco's blood. Through that blood, it spread throughout Harry's body, making him Draco's.

And he felt Harry's power still echoing inside his own body, felt that healing warmth meet and meld with Draco's deadly power and circle between them, fold and entwine and separate only to circle again.

It was powerful. It was overwhelming. It was perfect.

And then Draco tumbled into blackness knowing nothing at all.

Chapter End
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Freedom Bound in Chains