Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

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
- 52
- 53
- 54
A/N: Freedom Bound in Chains- fanart by pixi56 has new art with Harry added to Chapter 2. It's done in paint with color and is really beautiful work. If you feel like it have a peek and let Pixi know what you think!

This chapter is dedicated to: Babyvfan, without whom this chapter would not be the same. Thank you, Baby!
Experiments and Interviews
Pandora held up a golden key.
The glass wall of the jar began to shimmer and fold inward as if it were melting. She walked into the warped half-bubble, pulling Draco with her. As soon as they were inside, she let Draco go and he looked around him in wonder. They were standing in a white room: the floor tiled, the walls bare, the ceiling flat above their heads. It was like standing in a large box. The half-bubble and the jar were gone as if they never existed.
The temperature was neither hot nor cold, and there were absolutely no sounds or air currents at all. It was a very weird feeling against his skin, and he rubbed his arms as he followed Pandora across the room. She went to the far right corner were there was a large pile of something. The pile was covered in a stark white sheet and formed a type of lumpy pyramid as tall as Draco at its highest point.
“Please remember that experimentation is a crucial part of the process of freeing Harry from the foreign Black magic attached to his core,” Pandora told him, tone brisk as she gripped the sheet.
Draco tilted his head curiously as she pulled. At first his brain didn’t register what he was seeing. Then with a feeling of a knife tearing through his gut, he recognized arms, legs, and heads. Dead bodies…. dead children… It was a pile of corpses as tall as he was.
Almost as if he were in a trance, he took two steps forward and placed his hand on a limp arm. It was cool to the touch. Heart thundering in his chest, he pulled and Harry’s dead body tumbled from the pile, green eyes faded, staring, empty. He gasped, vision going red. They were all Harry. Some had their eyes exploded or filled with blood. Some were bald and deformed, but they were all Harry.
“Draco.”
He dropped to his knees, taking in how many of them there were, how many times Harry had died, and clutched the naked body of his boy, cold - lifeless - not breathing, to his chest.
“Draco!”
Pandora grabbed his shoulder and he came to his feet in an explosion of movement. He slapped her hand away, teeth bared in fury, as magic saturated his body, making him feel almost as if he were vibrating.
She stared back at him impatiently. “This is what happens to Harry every time I severed that tether,” she told him. “I tried every way I knew. Every way. I had to be sure your Harry would be well before we did anything. Magical cores are fragile, complex, and dangerous. I couldn’t risk hurting Harry, so I came here to experiment. These aren’t your Harry, Draco. Your Harry is safe at home. Concentrate. Feel the bond. You know he is well. Think, Draco!”
Panting, shaking, Draco did as he was bid and was immediately aware of Harry’s - peace contentment - through the bond. With gritted teeth, he kept his back to the pile of bodies. “Why are they still here?” he bit out.
Pandora spoke carefully. “I set up this room with specific parameters. I would have to undo the spellwork to get rid of what’s inside. It’s more efficient to keep the room whole until all the experiments are finished.”
When he didn’t say anything immediately, she stepped past him. Bending, she picked up the body he’d dislodged. It took every inch of self control Draco had in him to not attack her. He closed his eyes, but every sound was loud in this void. He heard every rustle, thud, and hiss as she settled Harry’s body onto the pile and pulled the sheet over them again. Not that it mattered. Now that he knew what was under it, he would never forget.
He watched through predatory eyes as she moved to the center of the room. She pulled a weird block of what looked like grey clay out of her bag and pressed black hairs into its doughy surface. Draco remembered sending Dobby to her weeks ago at her request with Harry’s hair. Now he wished he’d asked Lucius what could be done with it before blindly giving her what she wanted.
In horror, he watched as she placed the clay in the center of a rune circle that appeared on the ground. Wand in hand, she chanted harsh, abrasive words. The clay began to expand and become the color of Harry’s flesh. Slowly a baby formed curled up on the floor, messy hair and all. Years passed in a moment, the baby growing into a toddler with chubby cheeks. Pandora stopped chanting once Harry looked the same age he was now.
Draco felt his breath whoosh in and out of his lungs as the black-haired boy blinked a few times before pushing up and coming to a sitting position. He looked at his hands in wonder, grunting. Bright green eyes lifted and locked onto Draco, and they were Harry’s eyes. He clumsily staggered to his feet, naked with his arms out for balance.
As if from far away, Pandora’s voice said, “I’m going to trick your magic into thinking you have a twin-bond with the subject. Then you will use your magic to try and break the tether. We will see if Harry will survive it this time.”
The boy clumsily wobbled toward Draco, reaching toward him, eyes bright and smiling. Draco caught him as he tripped and held him to his chest. He felt like Harry. The same skin, the same smell, the same curves and edges. The boy made babbling sounds, blinking wide green eyes in wonder. He reached up to pat Draco’s face; Draco caught that clumsy hand and held it tightly.
Without looking away from the boy’s face, he asked, “And if I can’t?”
“Then the subject will die and we’ll know if you should attempt it with your Harry.” He looked up at her and she gave him a small smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll break the false bond before you suffer the backlash.”
That was the last thing he was worried about. There was a living, breathing Harry in his arms and she wanted him to try something that she thought would kill him? Something that would add the boy’s body to the pile behind him? It made him sick and furious, his skin blazed hot.
“Draco,” she called, drawing his attention from the boy wiggling in his arms. “The more I’ve studied that Black magic, the more insidious it’s become. We cannot leave it attached to Harry’s core.”
Draco swallowed hard, arms tightening around the copy of his boy in his arms. Harry squeaked and flailed, trying to get away from his harsh grip. Closing his eyes, he deliberately released the kid. The boy fell to the floor in a tangle of clumsy limbs and began to cry softly in confusion. It physically hurt to turn away from those eyes filled with tears. Draco shut everything out the way he’d learned in the Hold. Nothing existed outside of his own mind.
Harry had something attached to him. Something dangerous, something that killed him when it was messed with. It was likely something to do with Voldemort, the evil wizard who tired to kill Harry. The one who carved a lightning shaped scar into Harry’s head. The same dark, evil force Draco had seen in his vision that long ago night when he’d tasted Harry’s blood for the first time. Again and again, Draco had promised he’d take care of Harry and he was going to keep that promise. No matter what it cost him.
Opening his eyes, he turned around and stared dispassionately at the kid on the floor. The boy had stopped crying and was watching them, sucking on four of his fingers. Curiosity and trust radiated from the boy’s innocent face. Draco looked up at Pandora and nodded his head.
She gave him a genuine smile. “I knew you’d understand. Go stand in the circle, please.”
Draco did as instructed, watching through apathetic eyes as she coaxed the kid to his feet and helped him wobble back to the circle. Draco sat where she told him to and helped the kid sit in front of him. The boy kept reaching for Draco’s hair and face, babbling incoherently and smiling. Draco tried to pretend it wasn’t Harry’s voice he heard. He forced his attention to Pandora’s chanting and away from the kid who looked like Harry.
He watched impassively as he felt a bond establish itself between them. He could feel the boy’s heartbeat as if it were next to his own in his chest and the wonder and innocence of the newborn mind. He grabbed hold of those wandering hands and stared into those green eyes, feeling pulled by Pandora’s magic into the boy’s core.
A great gold river bathed him in gentle illuminessence. There were no shadowed spots or burnt umber colors, only bright and sparkling gold. It was breathtaking, and Draco felt his resolve waver. There was no way he could damage or sacrifice something this purely beautiful. Sweetness and gentleness soaked into his skin as Harry’s heart continued its stead rhythm.
From the corner of his eye, something dark caught his attention. Then, he saw it, the Black form connected by a thin tether to the rolling waves of golden magic. It was disgusting. It didn’t belong anywhere near the gorgeous river. It was absolutely offensive to Draco’s senses and he lashed out instinctively. Reaching deep inside, he released the iron hold he had on his rage and hate, swinging it like a blade. He pulled on everything he had and flung it through the newly formed bond, a poisonous green sword.
The Black magic hissed like acid as his magic hit. It swelled and screamed. Dozens of new tethers lashed out. The gold river darkened as a suction-like force began pulling Harry’s magic up through those bridges. Spiky and violently undulating, the Black began to grow. Harry’s screams filled his ears, high-pitched and terrified. Fear and pain hit Draco like a psychic blow through the bond. He tried to stop it, tried to get between them, but he only got pulled into the suction as well.
It was worse than any game with Raymond. It was as if his very essence were being shredded. He was pulled inexorably into the vile darkness. Right before he was about to black out from the agony, the bond was severed forcefully.
On his hands and knees, panting as if he’d been drowning, Draco could hardly think through the all-consuming pain. He watched through tear-filled eyes as Harry went into seizures. Violent ones that had the little boy’s bones braking as his limbs thrashed against the floor. Blood filled those innocent green eyes while white-yellow bile bubbled and splattered from the boy’s mouth and nose. The acidic stench was terrible, and Draco began to gag. He crawled forward. His heart slammed against his chest, panicked and terrified, and Draco couldn’t breathe! He reached for his boy.
“Avada Kedavra,” Pandora intoned and a terrible pale green flashed past his reaching hand and struck Harry’s convulsing, broken body.
A last gurgling breath hissed out of the boy’s throat, tormented eyes went dark, and Harry’s limbs went still as death, splayed at awkward angles, his head lolling to the side. Draco stared helplessly into those empty, blood-rimmed eyes. The empty space where the new bond had been left a gaping hole in his chest.
Pandora crouched, completely ignoring the corpse behind her. She cast spells that slightly dulled the agony, and Draco began to shiver violently. He stared blindly through her body, still seeing those dead green eyes, Harry’s face contorted in agony.
A firm hand gripped his jaw and cheeks. “Focus, Draco. You’re hyperventilating.” Releasing him, she stood and lifted Harry’s body into her arms. The little boy’s legs, arms, and head hung limply.
The memory of Harry’s screams wouldn’t stop echoing through his head.
“I’ve seen this reaction again and again. No matter what is wielded against that magic it somehow stimulates some sort of survival instinct.” She pulled the sheet off enough to add the new body to the pile. Harry fell onto the others with a meaty thud, the muffled slap of naked skin against skin. “If it were simply magic, that shouldn’t be possible.”
Dragging the sheet back over the pile, she turned and began to spell the room and her robes clean. Draco watched her through unblinking eyes, still shivering, his legs hugged tightly to his chest. She could clean all she wanted. He would never forget her holding Harry’s dead body in her arms.
She cast non-verbally, allowing her to keep talking. “I have a theory. Somehow the Black is not just simply magic but a small magical core. The only thing I can think is that the Dark Lord somehow lost a piece of his core and it attached to Harry in some type of transference at the moment of his death. Possibly it happened because of the prophecy that connects them.”
She began to pack her bag and once she was finished, she held her hand out to him. Draco stood without taking it. He would not forget that she was able to create and kill Harry dozens of times without showing an ounce of emotion, to hold his small dead body in her arms and feel nothing.
Pandora waved the key in a complicated pattern. The pale white braid that fell heavily down her back swayed softly side to side as she moved. Arms wrapped tight around his chest, Draco’s teeth chattered as he watched the walls begin to disintegrate into blackness. The pile of bodies in the corner shook and became unstable.
They toppled, falling across the floor. Draco saw evidence of burns on on small hands and pale arms, cuts and stab wounds on stomachs and torsos, strangulation bruises on throats. Others had their eyes closed and looked as if they were simply sleeping - if it weren’t for the deathly pale color of the skin and the unnatural stillness. One in particular had dried tears on his cheeks. He’d cried hard before he’d died - confused, scared, hurting.
Draco knew they weren’t his Harry, but they looked like him and were made from him. He wanted to take care of their bodies. He wanted to smooth each face and kiss each cheek before saying goodbye, but Pandora was already leaving. He took one last look before following her.
They stepped back into the softly ticking Time chamber. Nothing looked different. In fact, it looked as if only a minute had passed. But he was different. He’d lost something and he didn’t think he’d ever get it back. I watched Harry die, he realized with bleak horror. Harry died and I couldn’t save him.
“What prophecy?” he asked hoarsely. His insides felt shredded.
Pandora turned to him, expression blank, but he saw the realization that she’d said something she shouldn’t have in her eyes.
Reaching out, he grabbed her wrist in a punishing grip and practically growled. “I said, what prophecy.”
She winced. Yanking her arm back, she led him to the back where there was a door. She opened it and they stepped into a dark warehouse filled with hundreds of rows of shelves like a library. It was dark; he could only see the shelves in front of him. The others faded into the gloom. Thousands of small, smoke-filled glowing orbs filled each shelf.
Pandora strode down the walkway and stopped seemingly at random, turning between two shelves. She walked down the aisle. Stopping, she lifted an orb and said, “Only seers and those whom the prophecy speaks of can hear it, so I do not know its contents. Only that it involves Harry Potter and something to do with the Dark Lord. I will give you the opportunity to see if you can hear it. If you cannot, I will Obliviate the knowledge of this room and that a prophecy exists from your mind.”
Draco wanted to spit poison in her face. He probably would have just on general principle, but he still ached terribly inside. He didn’t think he’d be making poison any time soon. Glaring, he held out a pale, trembling hand. She set it gently into his palm and watched him curiously, obviously interested in what would happen. Draco felt a strong and powerful abhorrence for Unspeakables.
Nothing happened at first, and he could see her losing interest. Desperate to know what was happening to his boy, desperate to keep his memories, he closed his eyes and dove into the bond. It hurt. Draco pushed forward anyway. Breathing in the pain, letting it run its course, he opened himself to Harry.
- worry disquiet unease - and under that surface emotion there was - unconditional love trust - and under that - self-hate unrelenting despair pain - Draco remembered the way Harry’s blood tasted on his tongue, remembered the vision of evil, and suddenly words began to fill his mouth like warm, thick peanut butter:
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…."
Draco staggered. The fragile ball fell from his hand and, with remarkable speed, Pandora caught it an inch from the ground. She set the orb back in its place and stared at Draco with her head tilted slightly to the side.
“Interesting.”
“What?” he snapped, wrapping his arms tightly over his stomach once more. His hair hung in damp strands around his face. Sweat rolled down his temples and his shirt stuck uncomfortably to his chest.
“You spoke the prophecy the way a seer would, likely due to your hemopath abilities,” Pandora explained. Her head cocked slightly to the other side. “More importantly, this orb hasn’t gone dark. That means this prophecy has not been fulfilled. It speaks only of Harry’s or the Dark Lord’s death. That means the Dark Lord isn’t dead.”
Draco let it sink in for a moment that Pandora now knew that Voldemort would be back. He tried to calculate how bad that was.
“I do not think the Dark Lord is possessing Harry,” she continued, oblivious to Draco’s nearing hi breaking point. “There is no sentience in the Black. No, I’m still convinced it is a piece of magical core. If I am correct, we must somehow detach it before the Dark Lord returns. He will do whatever it takes to get it back.”
“And that bothers you?” he asked, sneering hatefully.
Large blue eyes looked at him with surprise. “Of course it does, Draco. I do not support mad Black wizards. They destroy too much.” She spun, her braid lashing the air. “Come. You need to get home and rest.”
Exhausted, he didn’t bother pointing out she had destroyed plenty in that barren white room. He knew people like her would never understand how terrible their actions were. So he followed her silently. He wanted out of here. He wanted Harry safe in his arms. Even with the bond wide open, he was still afraid of what he’d find when he returned to the manor. Dead green eyes haunted him.
They left the Ministry the same way they had entered. Once they were outside, Draco stood stiffly as Pandora grabbed him and Apparated them to the ward boundary of the manor. Draco dropped to his knees and threw up, his stomach convulsing in great heaves that had tears streaming down his face. Curled over his middle, he lifted his head and looked at her through cold eyes.
Pandora stared back, measuring him. “I will forgo the Vow of Silence,” she decided. “You’re magical core is unstable. Any further strain and your core could be permanently damaged. Instead, I am going to count on your practicality, Draco. If you reveal to anyone the secrets of the Department of Mysteries, I will no longer lend you my assistance. Without me, there is no hope of freeing Harry from the terrible core fused to his own.”
“I’ll keep your secrets,” Draco spat.
She gave a nod. “I’ll contact you as soon as I know more.”
Draco watched her disappear. For a long minute he just rested, trying to get his breath back. Eventually he climbed to his feet. Alone, he made his way across the grounds. It had seemed so peaceful before but now he looked at the world through bleak eyes. It was as if a depth of color had been removed. More than once he fell, dizzy and sick, but he’d push himself up and continued on.
Just as Pandora had promised, he reached the front door of the manor only an hour after they had departed. Lucius and Narcissa were waiting in the foyer. Narcissa gasped upon seeing him and immediately caught him in her arms. Draco allowed it. It was either her embrace or falling on his face.
“What happened?” Lucius demanded in a furious hiss.
Draco looked up at him. His hair had dried and hung limp and messy. His face looked grey; dark circles ringed his eyes. There was an emptiness in his gaze that hadn’t been there before. Lucius’s hand tightened around his cane. He wanted to hunt that woman down and make her bleed for what she’d wrought in his son.
“She showed me what would happen if I tried to overpower the Black magic attached to Harry’s core,” Draco answered numbly. “Let’s just say I’m not gonna try it anytime soon.”
“You’re shivering!” Narcissa exclaimed, horrified. It was summer. There was no reason for Draco to be so cold.
“It had to be done,” Draco snapped and pulled out of her arms. It had to be done, right? “I’m going to bed. Please leave me alone for a while. Dobby!”
“Yes, Master?” Dobby asked, eyes wide as he appeared.
“Take me to bed,” Draco demanded tiredly.
They immediately disappeared and landed right on the bed. Draco’s legs gave out and he fell face first onto his pillows.
“Draco!” Harry’s warm hands gripped his shoulders and rolled him over - worry love.
Draco stared up into his boy’s face. The green eyes behind round black glasses were filled with recognition and intelligence. Tears filling his own, he reached up to bury his hands in that wild dark hair. “Harry…” he whispered brokenly.
Harry’s expression softened and he leaned down to kiss him. Pulling back, he tilted his head into Draco’s touch. “Love you, Draco. Let me?”
Draco gave a nod of permission and then Harry was kissing his face gently with soft butterfly kisses. The boy took hold of his clothes and worked them off Draco’s limp body, kissing any pale skin he could reach. Arms, chest, hips, legs - Harry’s lips and hands graced them all, worshiping Draco’s skin. - lovelovelovelove - radiated through the bond, filling Draco with the sweetest warmth.
Slowly Draco’s shaking stopped and he reached out, grabbing a fistful of Harry’s hair. Harry obeyed his tug and settled on top of him, naked skin to naked skin. Pulling their mouths together, Draco kissed him. Hot and wet, he pressed his tongue into Harry’s mouth, making him moan. Draco reached down with his free hand and gripped Harry’s hip, rocking against the boy’s soft body. They were both stiff now and sensitive. Rubbing together shot shivers and tingling pleasure through their skin.
Even having the warmth and pleasure of his boy in his arms, Draco didn’t think he’d ever feel clean again. The image of Harry - broken, dead, discarded - wouldn't leave him. * Heal me, Harry, * he begged.
Harry gasped. Draco needed him! Draco wanted him! - LOVE joy -
Closing his eyes, head flung back, Harry arched his chest up off Draco’s, pressing their groins harder together. Draco groaned under him, his panting breaths all Harry could hear. Reaching deep inside, he offered all he had, wanted with all he was to heal his Draco, make him whole, protect him from his hurts. Deep inside, Harry felt it. The heat that lived there just for Draco. It rose up and filled him.
When Harry opened his eyes, there was a soft glow to them. Draco watched with a dazed expression as his boy rocked slowly on top of him, making them both gasp and groan. Draco stared in wonder; it almost seemed like golden sparks glittered around Harry’s messy hair, forming a there-and-gone-again halo. Harry was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, lovely and selfless and full of unconditional love.
Hot tears spilled down Draco’s cheeks as Harry’s warm magic filled him like the ocean tide. Washing through him with something like sunshine and then retreating with a gentle caress only to push powerfully forward again, filling him completely. Draco’s core reacted to that familiar, loving touch, rising to meet Harry with every push-pull, locking together and spiraling.
Every hurt, every fear, every raw spot cooled, soothed. Draco writhed with pleasure, calling Harry’s name. Harry trembled above him, caught in the spell of their magic. His head was flung back, face radiant and suffused with pleasure, lips parted as he gasped and moaned. He clutched at the hands Draco held out to him, needing them to keep his balance as he rocked his hips against Draco’s faster until the pleasure burst over them, hot and electric.
Throbbing, sweat cooling on his skin, Draco smiled as gentle fingertips grazed his cheeks, wiping his tears away. The sweet, contented hum of the bond nearly lulled him to sleep. Cracking his eyes open he turned his head to check on his boy.
Harry lay next to him, his face close, watching him with a look of utter devotion. Draco melted inside. It seemed impossible that the love he felt for this boy could be contained in his small body. Turning onto his side, he dropped an arm over Harry’s waist and pulled the boy even closer so that Draco could feel his every soft exhale against his throat.
* Thank you, Harry. You’re such a good boy, * he praised, caressing the boy’s mind with his words. He could feel Harry blush hotly against his skin and smiled.
“Yours,” Harry murmured - peace contentment LOVE.
“Mine,” he answered back, a promise, and held him tight. * You’re mine. *
…
Lucius and Narcissa sat in silent tension as they waited to see if the boys would come down for breakfast. They had missed dinner the previous night and they were both concerned about Draco’s condition. So when they heard the scuff of shoes outside the dinning room, they held their breath, not sure what to expect.
At first, nothing seemed too different. Draco led Harry by the hand, wearing his normal t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. Harry followed, wearing his day uniform: dress shoes, white socks, and a white button-down shirt tucked into blue shorts. However, Harry’s head was up instead of ducked shyly and seemed more focused and aware of the room, measuring both Lucius and Narcissa carefully as they sat. Draco seemed more subdued and faded. He still seemed a bit pale and circles still ringed his eyes faintly.
Belatedly, Narcissa greeted them, offering her usual, “Good morning, Draco, Harry.”
“Good morning, Narcissa,” Harry answered politely. “Good morning, Lucius.”
Draco said nothing.
Lucius shared a look with his wife, just a casual glance to anyone watching from the outside, but they knew each other well and that look spoke volumes of their worry.
It was Harry who prepared the plates once Lottie brought in the morning dishes. He handed Draco his serving first and waited for the blond to take a bite before he began to eat. His attention remained focused on Draco through the entire meal. Narcissa didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing.
When Draco finished, Lucius cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “We can reschedule with Ms. Skeeter.”
Draco shook his head, speaking for the first time. “I forgot.” He frowned and glanced at Harry who looked back calmly. After a short moment, he turned to Lucius. “No. I’m fine to do it today. The longer we wait the worse it will be.”
Lucius considered insisting, but Draco was right. At least his son’s eyes were clear and direct, his voice firm. Harry’s green eyes pierced into him. It was such a rare occurrence that it made Lucius pause, but he couldn’t decipher the expression on the boy’s face. “Go get changed, then,” he finally said. He waited for Harry to frown or nod, but the boy merely continued to look at him, watching. “Ms. Skeeter will be here shortly.”
Draco nodded and led Harry from the room.
Narcissa looked to her husband. “Lucius.”
“I know, Cissa. I know.” He’d be careful. If Draco looked to be under any amount of stress, he’d intervene and send Skeeter on her way.
…
Draco chose the outfit he’d worn to the French restaurant: dark blue jacket with three-quarter sleeves and red cuffs, grey sweater with a low neck, white button up, red tie, knee-length black shorts, black ankle socks and black dress shoes. It didn’t take much thought. He just walked into the closet, grabbed his clothes, and flung them on the bed to get dressed. He felt calm, like everything was frozen in place - an eerie stillness. Even Harry’s emotions through the bond seemed muffled. However, the fog cleared a bit when he saw Harry step from the closet.
Harry had chosen the Malfoy-blue outfit, as Draco thought of it. It was the one with the royal blue long-sleeved day-coat. Three small silver buttons decorated the cuff with two silk black bans that accentuated Harry’s thin wrists. The coat folded open halfway down the chest, revealing a white button-up underneath with a pale blue, thin bowtie around his throat, hiding the black collar from view. Two rows of large silver buttons ran down his chest to his waist where the coat flared slightly, stopping at the tops of Harry’s thighs. The look echoed a skirt, but the matching royal blue shorts coming from the bottom softened that effect. In the back, cinching the waist tight, was a large black bow made of silk. Knee-high black silk socks and black-toed white ankle boots with black laces and two-inch heels were on his feet.
Draco smiled warmly, taking the boy into his arms, amused they were now the same height. “You look perfect.” He kissed his cheek.
Harry blushed and smiled back - happy.
Holding his hand out to his boy, Draco felt a little less numb and a little more awake. “Let’s do this.”
“Yes, Draco.” Harry took his hand easily and followed him from the room, protective love - softly filling the bond.
…
Lucius left his family and ward in the sitting room as he leaned on his cane and waited for Rita to cross the half-mile difference to their front door. He’d been glad to see a bit more life in Draco’s expression and had given Harry a nod of approval for wearing blue. Narcissa, of course, had smiled warmly at Harry and told the boy how smart he looked, causing the boy to blush. There was still a little bit of steel in the boy’s spine, which was also all to the good.
Finally, the knock came, and he waved the door open, a polite smile fixed to his face. He hadn’t kept in close contact with Rita since Hogwarts. He’d had no real use of a gossip columnist since the end of the first war, but he’d always been careful to send her holiday greetings and been cordial when he’d run into her in public. He’d saved her goodwill for a time such as this, and he planned to make good use of it.
Rita gave him a smile, still wearing her seemingly favorite bright red lipstick, and offered her hand with her pointed nails painted a matching blood red. She wore a fashionable skirt-suit, her curls in an artfully messy up-do. The jacket was burnt orange and came to two long points in the front and a short ruffle in the back. The skirt was dark black and tight around her legs, falling to mid-calf. Dark purple glasses sat on her nose, attached to a black beaded chain that hung around her neck. Altogether it should have been hideous, but instead she pulled it off as high-fashion.
“Thank you for coming, Rita,” Lucius said charmingly, bending over her hand. He didn’t kiss her skin. Poisons could be coated there. She had been in Slytherin just as he had.
She batted her lashes at him. “It’s a pleasure, of course, Lucius. It’s been too long since we’ve seen each other.”
“I wish it were under more auspicious circumstances.” Lucius gave her a nobly suffering look. “It’s a shame what the media has stooped to. Exploiting children. Shameful.”
“Absolutely,” Rita gushed, pressing a hand to her chest and giving him a most sympathetic look.
Lucius nodded his head and gestured down the hall. “The sitting room is this way, if you’d be so kind.”
Rita made complimentary comments about the manor as they walked. As soon as they entered the room, Narcissa stood and offered her hands. The boys stood to one side of her, waiting patiently for their turn. Releasing Narcissa, Rita turned to them with a large smile.
“Mr. Potter, Young Mr. Malfoy, it is a pleasure to meet you.”
First Draco and then Harry shook her hand. “Nice to meet you,” they echoed each other - Draco with a cool smile, Harry with a blush.
Lucius came forward and gestured Rita to a seat. She sat in the indicated armchair and Narcissa returned to her place on the couch, the boys sitting next to her. Lucius stood by his wife, resting his hip against the side.
“Would you care for a refreshment?” Narcissa asked politely. “Our elf will be able to supply you with anything you need.”
“That is very kind of you. I’d love a cup of tea.” Rita reached inside the leather bag she’d brought and took out parchment charmed to lay stiff and flat when opened and a very large feather quill. She positioned them on her lap so that they’d be ready when she needed them.
Lottie came and Narcissa gave her orders. While they waited, Rita’s attention turned to Harry.
“That is a very lovely outfit, Mr. Potter. May I ask where you purchased it?”
“Oh, it’s a Trancy original. We took a weekend in Paris not long ago and picked up a few things,” Narcissa answered for him. Her cool smile showed she approved of the clothes, but that she wasn’t so impressed. Instead she gave off the air that they were nearly common. “As is Draco’s attire.”
Rita’s eyes widened. “I’d love a few photographs at the end?” she asked, unable to completely mask her excitement.
“Of course,” Lucius agreed. “If the boy’s aren’t too tired. Interviews can be stressful,” he added, subtly hinting that she wouldn’t get anything unless this went the way he wanted.
She smiled, showing her teeth. She heard the warning loud and clear. “Of course. It’s terrible that such a joyous time must be polluted with such difficulties.”
Lottie returned, serving their drinks and setting out a few cookies and scones.
“This is lovely, thank you.” Rita directed this compliment toward Narcissa, not the elf, and Narcissa accepted it with a graceful nod of her head.
“I am hopeful that this interview will put such ugliness behind us,” Lucius spoke once first sips were had. “Cuffe blatantly disregarded my ward’s right to privacy and implied Mr. Potter was unsafe within these walls. Not only did he insult my honor, he willfully disregarded the fact that I was cleared of any criminal charges by Ministry and have done nothing but support the community as Head of the Malfoy House since.”
Rita held her cup in one hand and wrote a few notes with the quill in her other. She nodded her head agreeably. “I understand your frustration.”
“I’ve received multiple death threats and other nasty messages since that unfortunate article,” Lucius continued. He gave her a frown and shake of the head, as if he couldn’t believe what other people would stoop to.
Rita made a noise of sympathy.
“We wish you to clear our good name and tell the world that Harry is safe and prospers under our care,” he concluded.
“He certainly looks well cared for,” she agreed, eyeing his very expensive, very exclusive clothes. “Well, Harry. May I call you Harry? What would you like to tell the world about the Malfoys?”
Harry gave her smile that had a slight nervous cast. “They’re good to take me in.”
“I see.” She wrote that down dutifully. “You were adopted by them because of the twin bond with Draco, correct?”
“Yes,” Draco answered for him, short and to the point.
Her eyebrow lifted, but she did turn her attention to Draco. “How did you two meet, if I may ask? It’s quite the story. You were missing for so many years and suddenly returned with the Boy-Who-Lived in tow.”
“We were both kidnapped but by different people. Somehow we found each other in New York.” Draco glanced at Harry, soothed by the - trust - in the green eyes gazing back at him. “It was like we were drawn together. People tell us that it should’ve taken time, but it began the moment we met.”
Rita wrote quickly, barely glancing at her paper, her eyes glued to the boys.
“I don’t know where I’d be without Harry,” Draco said honestly, looking back at Rita.
“Draco takes care of me,” Harry spoke up, voice surprisingly strong, looking Rita dead in her eyes.
Draco smiled and took Harry’s hand. “And Harry takes care of me. Honestly, everything else comes second.”
“How long has the bond been in place?” she asked with interest.
Draco looked to Lucius, knowing he’d have a better concept of dates from their medical records. Things like that didn’t really matter to him.
“The Asclepius in America dated the bond as forming at the end of 1985, so it’s a few months shy of being two years old,” Lucius supplied. “Our personal healer, Master-Healer Iason Greengrass, confirms that date.”
“I see. Yet you only recently returned to your parents, Draco,” Rita pointed out. “Why did it take so long?”
Draco shrugged. “I didn’t know about the Wizarding world.”
Rita’s eyes widened and looked to Harry curiously. “It’s my understanding that you were with your previous guardians until two years ago. Surely you were informed about the Wizarding world?”
“I’m sorry, Rita,” Lucius cut in. He put a reassuring hand on Narcissa’s shoulder, stilling her frown. “He can’t talk about his previous guardians with an investigation is ongoing. I’m sure you understand. Suffice it to say, Harry was unaware of the Wizarding world until his return to us.”
“I apologize,” she gave in, a hint of regret in her eyes. “So you were already in New York, Draco?”
Draco sighed softly, knowing the woman would pick and pry until she had what she wanted. He met her eyes in that way he had that unsettled so many adults. “From what we can tell, I was taken straight from here August 15th, 1981, to New York, to keep me hidden from my parents, I guess. I lived in an orphanage for a few years. I was taken care of there, but there was a fire and it burned down.”
“How terrible!” Rita cried all fake sympathy. She was loving every minute of it. Her pen practically flew across the page. “And then what happened?”
“It was chaos after the fire and someone took me right off the street. I was held by the kidnappers for a year before Harry and I met.”
“What did they want you for?” she asked, hushed and eager.
Draco shrugged, feigning boredom. “Mostly as an errand boy. I was given jobs to do and stuff. I can’t really go into detail about it, but basically I was free labor.”
Her eyes narrowed as thoughts and scenarios flew through her mind, but a warning look from Lucius kept her mouth shut.
“Harry came to the same place I was coincidentally. He was going to be adopted by a family on the Muggle black-market, but that fell through. I couldn’t escape before, but now that we had each other, we managed to run away. We lived on our own for almost a year before a wizard on vacation recognized Harry. Then my parents were called and Harry’s magical guardian. Now we alternate between their houses every month.”
“Sounds busy,” Rita murmured, looking at Lucius questioningly. All of this was an amazing story and hard to believe. There was clearly a lot being unsaid and that made her instincts practically burn, but she knew better than to push and get kicked out now.
“It’s a Black solution regarding a joint-custody,” Narcissa informed her. She lifted her hand to affectionately stroke Draco’s hair once. “It gives the child an equally strong foothold in the traditions of both parents.”
“We learn a lot with Andromeda and still have access to Muggle London,” Draco explained. Lucius and he had talked about this earlier. It would be good to emphasize that Harry wasn’t being poisoned by a Dark family. It would also make the Malfoy family seem less threatening by the fact that they allowed it. “We grew up there, so it’s familiar.”
“That is not something we could give him,” Lucius acknowledged. “I am not convinced of the benefit of having such knowledge, but it is part of Harry’s heritage and I respect my son’s bond.”
Rita’s eyes were wide behind her glasses as she scribbled furiously on her paper. “You clearly care very much about both boys. Cuffe seems to have been very mistaken indeed.”
“Draco and Harry’s wellbeing are my top priority,” Narcissa said calmly, voice going cold, her blue eyes flashing with warning. “I am very offended that anyone would think differently. I am a Malfoy, but I am also a mother.”
Rita lifted her eyebrow. “They are very fortunate to have such loving parents.”
“Would you care to see our horses?” Harry asked, innocent and sweet.
“I’d love to, and I’d love a tour if it’s available?” She gave Lucius her most winning smile. “Malfoy Manor is such a mystery. My readers would love photos of such a historic house.”
“I think something can be arranged,” Lucius answered, amused at her unending ambition.
“This is such a lovely room.” Rita took out her camera. “May I take a photo with you sitting just like that? I will give you copies of any photographs I take.”
Lucius and Narcissa shared a quick look before Lucius agreed. He stood straight and tall, his hair tied back, wearing a dark blue day-jacket nearly the exact same shade as Harry’s and black slacks. He made sure he was holding his cane just right so the gleaming silver head could be seen. Narcissa sat next to where he stood in a simple ivory summer dress, her hair up in an intricate coil. Draco was at her side and Harry sat next to him. They gave the camera their polite smiles and Rita spun the dial for ten seconds, taking the photo.
She continued to take pictures as Lucius took her on a limited tour of the manor, allowing her to see the areas where they entertained. She was nearly overwhelmed at the history, art, and gorgeous architecture by the time she was led outside. They found Narcissa sitting in the shade on a bench in he garden. The boys were a bit further off on the grounds and petting their stallions. Rita quickly asked for permission, eyes wide at the picturesque scene, and Lucius gave it. Rita used the zoom and took several pictures of the boys with the horses. She also took a few of Lucius and Narcissa in the garden, treating them all like celebrities, which is just as it should be in Lucius’s opinion.
Eventually, Rita departed, promising to work on the article and send it over to Lucius for final review and permission to turn it in to her editor at Witch Weekly. Of course, there was no doubt that it would pass through. An exclusive featuring Draco and Harry would sell faster than they could print it. In fact, Rita had stars in her eyes, knowing she’d be the writer of the most read Witch Weekly article the magazine had ever produced.
Chapter end.
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Freedom Bound in Chains