Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Freedom Bound in Chains	By : TaintedSensibly Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 58477 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 13
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Harry Potter characters. I did not make money from this story.

Chapter List
- 57
- 58
- 59
A/N: Really important chapter. Lots of reveals and surprises in store. If you guys haven't checked out Pixie56 on Archive Of Our Own lately, more art of Harry and Draco has been added. It's so brilliant! Do me a favor and leave comments and kudos if you have a moment. I'm so excited to see more from Pixie. :D

Surprises and Answers
Draco sat with his back to the headboard, Harry’s head in his lap. He’d had all night to come to terms with what had happened at the trial. Lucius had returned and used a pensieve to show him memories of what had happened after Draco had left. He’d been spared the dementor’s effects, but they had been scary enough just by looking at them that Draco was impressed. He had seen death and knew it, and regardless of the Dursleys still walking around and breathing, they were dead. Honestly, he hadn’t really expected the court to give him even that much, but now it was done. He’d have to be satisfied because he had other things to worry about. Like the boy in his lap.
A soft whimper reached his ears just as Harry’s emotions grew sharper - misery need anxiety. Green eyes blinked open, already wet with tears. Another whimper escaped him.
“Shhh,” Draco soothed, scratching lightly at Harry’s scalp. It was the first time he’d awoken since being spelled by Andromeda. “Shhh. It’s over, Harry. The Dursleys are done. They’re dead. They won’t hurt us ever again.”
Images poured into Harry’s mind of his time with the Dursleys, but what hit him most was the certainty that he was dirty and an overwhelming loneliness. Guilt was there, too, and the horrible feeling that the Dursleys suffered because of him, just as they had always said they would. He was a monster; he was evil.
Draco ached with Harry’s pain as the boy curled up and buried his face in Draco’s lap, sobbing. Draco stroked him and pet him and whispered all sorts of things into his mind and ears. That he loved him, that he was good, that Harry was his now and forever, but Harry continued to weep. He cried for hours. Draco sank deep in the emotions flowing through the bond. He sensed that Harry didn’t need punishment, not exactly, but he wasn’t responding to Draco’s gentle approach, either.
“What do you need, Harry?” he asked in a desperate whisper, but that only made Harry curl up in - despair.
Beyond frustrated, Draco slipped out from under his boy and left him in the dark of their room crying on the bed alone. He practically ran outside. He ran all the way to the woods, tilted his head back and screamed. Draco screamed until his throat was raw and he couldn’t breathe. He screamed until he collapsed to his knees. Frustrated and angry, he pounded his fist against the dirt. What the hell was he supposed to do? WHAT?
Harry’s unrelenting - grief self-hate anxiety remorse terror need - scratched against his mind while the echoes of the boy’s soft cries rang in his ears. Draco screamed hoarsely one last time and sat back on his heels. This wasn’t getting him anywhere! He had to get it together. Layla… What had Layla taught him? She'd taught him how to open his mind to other worlds. Harry’s world wasn’t like Draco’s. It was totally different. It was a completely different reality. He had to try and put himself there if he was ever going to understand what Harry needed.
A soft pop and a tentative call of, “Young master?”, reached his ears.
Lowering his head, he took his eyes off the canopy above him to see Dobby standing nervously in front of him.
“I’m sorry to be interrupting Young master, but Master be asking if Young master and Harry Potter be coming to dinner, sir?” Big lime green eyes peered at him anxiously. “Is you’s hurt, Young master sir?”
“No,” Draco answered hoarsely. “And we’re not going to dinner. I’ll call for a tray later. We’ll eat in our room.”
Dobby gave an awkward bow. “Yes, Young master. Whenever you’s be wanting a tray just ask!”
“Dobby, wait…” Eyes long gone silver, Harry’s throbbing distress and need pounding away like a second heart in his chest, he tilted his head and considered the creature before him. “Dobby, would you ever want to hurt Lucius or Narcissa?”
Dobby gasped and grabbed his ears in shock. “Never, sir! Dobby would never…!”
Draco waved his hand, cutting off his frantic words. “I’m not saying you would, but Harry’s feeling really upset right now and I think you can help me understand him. Just answer as best as you can, okay?”
The little creature grinned. “Of course, sir! Dobby will always help Harry Potter, sir!”
“I’m your master now, too, right, Dobby?” Draco continued, watching the elf’s expression carefully.
“Yes, sir!”
“So what if Lucius and Narcissa were really mean to you and I hated them because of it. What if I said you were mine alone and had them killed?”
Dobby’s mouth fell open in horrified shock. He shifted uncomfortably, grimacing as he obediently thought about Draco’s scenario. Draco never looked away, silently demanded an answer. Dobby’s spindly legs and arms fidgeted some more before he finally began to speak.
“Dobby would feel like a bad elf, Young master,” he whispered. “Dobby would feel bad for making you kill your parents. Dobby would never let them die, but Dobby would want to do as you said. It would be very scary, Young master!”
“Yes, I got that already,” Draco snapped furiously, grabbing the elf by the shoulder and shaking him. “But what would make you feel better?”
Dobby blinked his eyes twice. “I’s be scared I’s lose you the way I did Master and Lady, Young master. Dobby would want the bond tight. Dobby would want to feel like I’s couldn’t have helped Master and Lady even though Dobby wanted to. Because Young master is my true Master and anything for Master is okay.” Frustrated with not being able to explain, Dobby grabbed his ears once more, pulling on them hard. “Dobby doesn’t know, Young master Draco! I’s sorry!”
“No…” Draco slowly let him go, eyes unfocused as he listened again to Harry’s heart. “No… I think I know… I know what he might need…”
Without looking back, he climbed to his feet and made his way back to the manor. Narcissa saw him on the stairs, but he ignored her. He very firmly shut the door to their rooms.
The sounds of Harry’s weak sobs reached his ears and he strode toward the darkened bedroom. He didn’t acknowledge Harry in any way. He simply went into the closet and began to gather the things he’d need. All these thoughts were swirling in his head: Layla, Jess and Drey, Brendon, Liam, and even Raymond. Things he’d heard and seen, even in passing collided into inspiration.
“Harry. Kneel in front of the window, facing it, just as you are. No clothes,” he ordered.
Harry lifted his head from his damp pillow. He felt completely exhausted, but he would not disobey Draco. Images from the court wouldn’t leave him alone: Uncle and Aunt, suffering because of him; everyone mad because he was a Freak. Draco had wanted him to do something really important, but he’d gotten it wrong. Now Uncle and Aunt were dead like Brendon. He felt so lost and horrible, but he knew he couldn’t kill himself. Draco still wanted him for some reason. He was Draco’s. He’d learned that lesson well.
“Harry,” Draco snapped, putting bite into his tone.
Harry jumped. He realized he was standing at the window, looking blindly out. Draco had wanted him to kneel! He was so bad! He couldn’t do anything right! He was an ugly, awful Freak! Draco really shouldn’t want him…. His thoughts continued to pull him down into darkness even as he dropped to his knees as Draco had ordered.
“Sit on your heels, toes on the floor, feet flexed. Put your hands behind you so your hands are by your feet and your arms are straight.”
Draco stepped forward and took up one of his scarfs. He tied it tightly around Harry’s wrists and then tied his wrists to his ankles. He felt Harry’s shoulders with his hands. They weren’t too tight. The scarf wasn’t tight enough to cut off blood, either. Good.
Harry’s head had come up from it’s defeated bow, the sensation of being tied breaking through the darkness of his thoughts.
“Don’t move,” Draco ordered, tucking his hair behind his ears as he gazed down at his boy. Harry was still crying, but it wasn’t as loud. He was hearing him. “You’re going to sit there, unable to move, because I asked you to, Harry. That’s all you need to do, and I’ll be happy because it shows you’re mine.”
He pet Harry’s hair once and then left him briefly to grab a book. Once he got the book he wanted, he climbed into the bed and called for Dobby. The elf appeared in an instant, ready to serve.
“Can you light the candles, Dobby? All of them. I want to read,” he ordered. He also wanted to see even the faintest tremors in Harry’s body. Dobby snapped his fingers and it was so. “Thank you. I’ll call when I’m ready to eat.”
“Yes, Young master sir,” the elf answered, never once looking at Harry tied up, naked, his back to the room.
Draco read a few chapters, checking on Harry frequently. At first Harry continued to shake and dark emotions continued to saturate the bond. Slowly, however, Harry’s shoulders began to relax. His back loosened up, his breathing became easier, and through the bond came relief. His breathing calmed. But as the second hour neared, Draco watched intently as Harry’s muscles began to grow tight with strain from being held in that position. He began trembling again, but Harry was no longer crying. He was staring out the window, his emotions calm and muted. Sweat glistened on his skin. Draco snapped the book closed and Harry didn’t even jump. He was deep in his mind.
Padding up behind his boy, Draco gently stroked his hair. * You’re a good boy, Harry. You’re mine. * He gently rubbed his hands over Harry’s warm shoulders, his arms, and unbound his wrists. “Stand and face me.”
Harry mutely climbed to his feet, clumsy and unsteady as blood flowed more freely and his muscles slowly unclenched. His eyes were peaceful, but underneath that peace the dark emotions still waited. Harry needed more.
Draco stared deep into his eyes, inches from Harry’s face. “I killed the Dursleys because I had to. It wasn’t up to you. It was my decision to make and I don’t want you worrying about it.”
Harry’s peace trembled. Tears welled up once more - sorrow confusion regret trust love.
“You’re mine now, Harry. You’re such a good boy for me. Holding these poses. Listening to me. You make me happy. You take care of me.”
Harry’s mouth opened, but his throat was too dry to speak. His - doubt confusion NEED - said what he was thinking for him, though.
Draco gently touched the boy’s tear-stained cheek. “You’re taking care of me by listening. By showing me how much you trust me. How much you love me. You give yourself to me and that makes me so happy…” He stared a moment more into Harry’s eyes before dropping his hand and stepping back. “Now I want you to lift your hands up like this…”
He gently put Harry’s hands up to shoulder level with his elbows bent. The same gesture for when someone points a gun at you. He tied the scarf around one wrist and then tied it around Harry’s throat, and then connected it to the other wrist. If Harry lowered his hands, it would tighten around his throat and cut off his air supply. If he raised them it would loosen again so he could breathe. Raymond had taught him this one. Of course, Raymond had put weights on his arms and rutted against his chest while watching him struggle and suffocate, but that memory wasn’t welcome and Draco shoved it away. That had nothing to do with what he was doing for Harry.
Focusing all his attention on his boy, Draco showed Harry how it worked, briefly cutting off his air. “I want you to keep your hands up, but when you need to rest, go ahead, but if you don’t breathe for too long you’ll fall down. I’m going to be sad if that happens. I never want you to hurt yourself, Harry. I want you to stand here and hold this pose because you know it makes me happy. It’s going to be hard, but I know you can do it for me. Because you’re mine.”
Harry slowly nodded - hope happy determination LOVE.
“Good boy,” Draco said again, this time with a warm, loving smile that was just for Harry. He ran his hand through the boy’s wild hair once before returning to his book.
He watched carefully. Harry dropped his hands every few minutes and cut off his own air supply for thirty seconds or so. The time between not breathing began to get shorter and shorter as Harry’s arms grew weaker. Nearly an hour later, Harry’s arms were shaking badly and he was sweating and panting for air in between being choked. He was completely out of it, totally unaware of the room. He didn’t even twitch as Dobby came and Draco made some requests. A table was brought in with a chair. Food and water were brought.
Draco gently grabbed Harry’s wrists just as they were about to sink down and he rubbed them. “Good, Harry. You did good. You’re mine.”
- accomplishment submission peace love -
Draco let him catch his breath, carefully unraveling the scarf. He helped Harry stagger to the chair and sat him down, rubbing firmly at his throbbing arms.
“Now, I’m going to feed you. Because you’re mine to take care of,” Draco explained. He very firmly tied two scarves together so that he had a really long rope. He wrapped it around Harry’s torso and the chair, tying the boy tight to the back of the chair with his arms pinned by his sides. “It makes me so happy taking care of you. I love that you’re mine.”
Harry closed his eyes on a sigh - unworthiness need. He didn’t deserve Draco’s love or deserve to be taken care of, but he was Draco’s and it made Draco happy. He wanted to make Draco happy. He loved Draco so much. He kept his eyes closed, and slowly, as Draco lifted food and water to his lips, Harry’s emotions settled and he found that quiet place again. The one he’d found when he’d been tied and unable to move.
He was Draco’s. There was nothing he could do. Not now, not ever. Draco was amazing. He was the one Harry had given himself to. He would take care of things. Harry didn’t need to worry. He was tied; he couldn’t move or do anything wrong. All he had to do was hold trust Draco, follow Draco, and Draco would be happy. He could let go; he could let it all go. Draco had complete control…
Harry ate everything Draco gave him and drank nearly a half a pitcher of water. Draco knew just when his belly started to feel too full and stopped. Draco was so amazing - LOVE trust.
“Your turn, Harry. Stand up. I want you to feed me.”
Harry felt electrified as the scarf-rope came undone. He stood and gladly picked things from the tray for Draco to eat even as his arm muscles burned in agony as he lifted them. He trembled under Draco’s unblinking gaze.
Draco ate everything Harry chose with a smile. Relief nearly sweep Harry off his feet even as his whole body ached and burned from being tied and held in weird positions for hours. When Draco was done eating, he took Harry’s hand and they used the bathroom together one at a time until they were clean and had brushed their teeth.
The sky had gone a light grey as they climbed into bed. Dawn was coming. Gently, Draco told Harry to lay on his side with his knees bent toward his chest. The scarf-rope went back on, tying him in a fetal position, binding his wrists and legs. Draco then spooned up behind him, practically wrapping around him like a second set of ropes and holding him close.
* Good boy. I love you, Harry. I love that you trust me, love that you’re mine. I’ll take care of you. Always. You don’t have to worry about anything. I know what to do, so rest. You don’t have to do anything right now. Just sleep. You don’t have to worry or think. I’ll tell you what to do. I’ll tell you when and where. I’ve got you, Harry, and I’m never going to let you go. *
Sighing, Harry closed his eyes, tears slipping free to bead on his dark lashes, but this time it was because he was - relief grateful LOVE. He had never felt so safe and warm before. He was Draco’s completely and Draco was in control. All the fear, and guilt, and responsibility lifted from his heart. He understood now. He was finally free.
…
Andromeda stared at the plate of scrambled eggs in front of her with a frown.
Teddy watched her with worried eyes. “Are you okay, Dromeda?”
“I feel sick. I’ve felt sick ever since that trial,” she admitted and pushed her plate away. Frustrated tears filled her eyes.
Ted set his fork aside and stood. He came around the table and wrapped his arms around his wife. “Dromeda, you saw some traumatic things. You need to give yourself some slack.”
“I just… He was hurt so terribly, Teddy!” Her hazel eyes looked up at him with desperation. “It was horrible. He was so small, so terribly thin… and his eyes so empty, so broken.”
“That’s in his past. He is not that little boy anymore,” Ted soothed.
Andromeda grabbed his shirt in two clenched hands. “I know some of that’s because of Draco, but…” She pressed her face hard against his stomach. “I can’t help but fear that Harry’s sick because of his past. How could he not be? And Draco… He was a sex slave! They’ve been so twisted… Don’t you see they need to be healed? That feeling that way about each other is just proof of that?”
Ted soothed her and stroked her hair, trying to get her to calm down. She was breathing hard and gagging, almost about to throw up. Eventually he guided her to the couch and pulled her into his lap, holding her tight. Once she was calm, he began to speak.
“You care about them and that’s a good thing, Dromeda. You’re a good woman, but fear is poisonous. Fear would make you believe the world is something it’s not.” She lifted her head to argue, but he pressed it back down to his shoulder. “Just listen. I’m not trying to change your mind. I just want you to think about it again. If you’re fear is correct, then you’ll come to the same conclusion.”
“Teddy…” she sighed, but she went limp in his arms.
“Good.” He began to rock just slightly. “Your fear could be correct, but we should decide if it really is or not, and that requires logical thinking. Truth is logical. Always. Truth is never random. So! The only way I see of looking for logic in this situation is cause and effect. Think about it this way: a rotten or poisoned tree can only bear bad fruit. That is logical. Only a healthy tree can bear good fruit. Okay?”
She tentatively nodded her head.
“Well, what kind of fruit did the past make? You described Harry very eloquently. He was physically unhealthy. His demeanor was beaten and broken. He was frightened and hardly spoke, and when he did, he never spoke more than a frightened whisper. Right? That’s a lot of very bad fruit and it came from a very poisoned tree.”
“I’m glad they’re dead,” she whispered harshly.
“Shhh. We’re talking about something else right now,” Ted admonished and cleared his throat. “So what fruit do Harry and Draco make together?”
Andromeda was silent. “Harry smiles. He’s happy. He’s putting on weight. He’s so loving and considerate toward everyone. He adores Draco, but maybe too much?”
Ted shook his head. “No. That’s fear again and not actual evidence. You have to see an effect before drawing the conclusion that his love is too much. Evidence like Harry only wanting to be with Draco and not letting anyone else into his heart. That would be bad fruit. It would be obsession.”
“He does only want to be with Draco, but…” She sighed. “He let’s others into his heart, too. He cares about everyone and he likes to spend time with Dora even if Draco’s not with him. Like the time I found him…” She trailed off. “He was so afraid. Began screaming and saying he was bad. That’s bad fruit.”
Ted arched his eyebrow. “Yes, but was it Draco’s fruit or the poisoned tree’s fruit?”
She sighed again. “Not Draco probably. Draco was protective of Harry and did his best to cheer him up the next few days.”
“Okay, so Harry shows no bad fruit from being with Draco,” Ted decided. “What about Draco?”
Andromeda frowned. “He’s so intelligent but coldly so. Sometimes it’s like an animal is looking out from his eyes. He’s obsessed with Harry. Totally focused on him. He would never care about any of us, I think, if it weren’t for Harry. He’s barely under control.”
“Yes,” Ted agreed. “I think so, too. However, I think all of that is fruit from his poisoned past. I think it’s very good fruit indeed that he is responsive to Harry and will join a group for him. Without that connection to society, he’d be lost. Overtime, more good fruit will be born and maybe some of Draco’s poisoned fruit will fall away. I definitely think that as terrible as Harry’s past was, how horrible he looked and how horribly he was treated, he’s been healed and given more good fruit than Draco. Partly because Draco actively works to cut away all the bad fruit from Harry’s heart and life. Harry has not yet been able to do the same for Draco. Eventually, though…” Ted smiled, big and true. “Eventually, because of Draco’s good care, Harry’s going to be able to stand a little bit stronger and he’ll begin to see for himself all the bad fruit Draco carries and begin to help pare it away. Harry’s still so young. Younger in a way than Draco, but he’ll grow, Andromeda. Their love is true, and if it begins to become poisoned, we will see bad fruit appear. Until that day, do not let fear convince you the world is something it’s not. Do not let fear poison your heart or poison the boys. They’ve had enough poison, Dromeda, and so have you.”
Andromeda lifted her head and flung her arms around his neck. “Oh, Ted. How do you do it?”
“I think logically,” he answered with a laugh. “Now. Let’s see if we can fix you something.” He gently slid her off his lap and onto the couch before happily making his way to the kitchen.
Andromeda watched him go with a smile and shake of the head. “Are you sure you’re a Hufflepuff and not a Ravenclaw?” she called playfully, a wobble still in her voice. She truly loved that man. And she felt better, too, about everything, so why did she still feel she was going to be sick?
No, really. She was going to be sick.
Bolting up she ran for the bathroom and began to heave bile into the toilet. Ted found her and gently held her long, dark brown hair away from her face.
“Do you have another flu, love?” he asked in concern.
“No…” she lifted her head and looked at him. “I think… I’m pregnant…”
Ted froze.
Andromeda had struggled with Dora. Their daughter’s birth had not been an easy one. It had almost killed Dromeda. The healers had told them it wouldn’t be easy for her to conceive again, not with the scarring that even magic couldn’t help, but just to be safe, she had taken a yearly contraceptive. It had been fourteen years since then. After five, the contraceptive should have rendered her infertile, but she had continued to take it, just to be sure. It wasn’t like there were other side-effects besides the infertility after long-time use. It was perfectly safe for her to use since she actually welcomed that result. So it should have been impossible.
Ted adored his wife and daughter. They were his world, but… He couldn’t bare to lose Andromeda. The thought terrified him past all reasoning.
“It just hit me…” Andromeda was saying, oblivious to her husband frozen in terror. “It feels like…”
“We’re going to St. Mungo’s,” Ted decided abruptly.
He bundled his wife up in a coat, not even caring that she was still in her nightgown. The walk to the Leaky Cauldron was a blur, but soon they were flooing to the magical hospital. They had to wait for an examination room, but soon enough they were with a Healer.
“Congratulations, Mrs. Tonks. You’re pregnant. About three weeks, I would say. You probably conceived around Samhain,” the young woman told them cheerfully, a big smile on her face that slowly melted when she saw the worried looks on their faces. “Are you okay?”
Ted explained that Andromeda had almost died in childbirth and the fact she’d been on a contraceptive for thirteen years and the Healer grew serious. Andromeda went through hours of tests. Her blood, magic, and uterus were all examined. Her old charts were consulted and the Healers were absolutely stumped.
“You’ve been healed,” the Healer finally concluded. “There is absolutely no evidence of the scarring your records depict. There is not even trace amounts of the contraceptive you used or any other kind, either. You are perfectly healthy. It’s been ten years since your last scan. Likely your magic has slowly healed you over time without you knowing it. It’s very rare, but magic has done stranger things.”
Joyous, Ted and Andromeda embraced and kissed, delighted. They were very careful not to share their opinions: that it was the faerie circle that had healed her and their feverous coupling that had conceived a child. The Wizarding world had a very big stigma regarding fairies and babies.
In the past, witches and wizards would stumble into faerie rings and come away with child only for that child to grow into strange or extraordinary people. Well, the ones that were allowed to grow up, anyway. They were more often spirited away before the age of eleven, sometimes as babies or as young children, leaving many families to grieve and suffer that painful loss. Changelings, they were called. So Andromeda and Ted knew better than to say anything to the Healer.
Andromeda rushed home, got dressed, and owled the other women from the circle, asking them to please join her at her home, giving them the address. She explained it was urgent, and even if they were slightly unwell, they should attend. Not two hours later, she had Mrs. Weasley, Mrs. Fawcett, and Mrs. Diggory sitting in her small living room. She didn’t beat around the bush.
“I’m pregnant. It should be impossible for reasons I will not explain now, but I’m pregnant,” Andromeda told them bluntly. “It is likely you are as well because I think it was the Samhain circle.”
The women were shocked, but Mrs. Diggory became horrified.
“I can’t be pregnant!” she yelled. “Not by those creatures! What would my husband say?”
“Rebecca, calm down,” Molly tried to sooth her.
“I will not be calm!” Mrs. Diggory snapped furiously. “You’re telling me that a changeling might be growing in my stomach! A godless creature!”
“You weren’t raped by a fairy,” Andromeda argued. “You were with your husband. The magic of the circle just made conception more likely.”
Mrs. Diggory deflated, tears rising in her eyes. “You can’t be sure of that. Not with their illusions and magic.”
Silence descended on their group for a long minute.
“Well, I thought something was strange, but I’ve been on a contraceptive for over five years. Told myself it was impossible.” Molly smiled at Andromeda, tears in her eyes. “It’ll be difficult, but a baby is a blessing. Even if it’s half-fairy, it’s half me, too.”
“You aren’t afraid of having it stolen or it not being… fully human?” Mrs. Fawcett asked. “I come from gypsy roots. There are records…”
Molly huffed, her ample bossom heaving. “I know some really great people who aren’t fully human. I don’t buy into that whole line about non-humans being equal to monsters. Any child of mine will be decent, and if the fairies come for my baby, I’ll have to show them I’m not a witch to be messed with.”
“But if the baby disappears regardless?” Mrs. Diggory demanded in disgust.
Molly grew more serious and gently took the other woman’s hand. “If my baby goes to live in another realm, at least he or she will know they have a piece of me with them always.”
“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Fawcett said softly, standing. “I can’t in good conscious give birth to a child and raise it knowing there is a high probability that it’s going to be taken to live with inhuman creatures. They could be fairy slaves for all we know. The fae aren’t human, Molly, and evidence is clear they don’t much like humans. What could they possibly want half-human babies for? Nothing good,” she said reasonably. “As I said, I come from gypsy roots. I’m too realistic to hope for some happy ending here.” She turned to Mrs. Diggory. “I know of herbs that will make you miscarry.” At Mrs. Diggory’s wide-eyed look, she continued, her voice sharp, “It’s hardly grown more than a tiny group of cells attached to your uterus at the moment, so it won’t even make you ill. If you’d like the recipe, owl me.” Without another word, she gave a dip of her head and let herself out.
Mrs. Diggory stared at Molly and Andromeda for a long moment before silently following Mrs. Fawcett from the room.
“I’m keeping it,” Molly said softly.
Andromeda took her hand. “Me, too.”
Molly smiled, tears rolling down her cheeks. “I have a feeling that the Diggorys and Fawcetts won’t be friends any longer.”
“No,” Andromeda agreed. “I’m sorry.”
Molly shook her head. “It’s a good thing the Weasleys are a big family, then. No room to get lonely.”
Andromeda squeezed her hand. “We may have only just met, but I’d be honored to be considered your friend.”
Molly smiled. “Of course. Thank you.”
“The only worry I have is that I think my Nymphadora will get along too well with your twins.”
The two women looked at each other with identical expressions of horror and began to laugh.
…
Lucius threw his riding gloves onto his desk and grabbed the glowing chalice from the shelf. He’d cut his riding lesson with Draco short as soon as he felt the ward activate. Huld had something to report.
He quickly settled into his desk chair and activated the cup. “Yes?”
Huld’s voice drifted up from the depths, bland as always. “I found Lady Malfoy’s father. He was in a hidden convent. I broke a barrier to get to him, so he has been exiled and the convent will be moved. He’s returning to England. I believe he plans to acquire Grimmuald Place. He was not the one who took your son. You owe me one payment.”
“Very well,” Lucius agreed, frustrated beyond measure. “And the others?”
“Getting into Azkaban was equally challenging, but in a different way. However, I was successful in interrogating both suspects. Sirius Black is innocent. You owe me one payment.”
“Yes, yes, it’s yours,” he snapped impatiently, leaning closer to the cup.
“I have discovered very interesting information. For the cost of a third payment, do you want to buy my knowledge?”
Lucius hesitated. Huld had already extracted an enormous sum from him. All to be told nothing of real worth. However, Huld had come highly recommended. If the man felt he had something of value, he most likely did. “Yes. I will pay.”
“Sirius Black is innocent of the charge of betraying the Potters. The Potters switched to Peter Pettigrew fearing Black was a too obvious choice. When they were betrayed and murdered, Black went after Pettigrew and was framed for the man’s murder as well as the dozen Muggle witnesses. It is unclear how Pettigrew managed all this.”
Lucius smiled coldly. Very interesting. If Andromeda continues to distress Narcissa, then he may have to begin to set things in motion that would free Black and have him replace Narcissa’s sister as the boys’ secondary guardian. A man six years in Azkaban must be broken enough by now to be easily controlled. He would have to keep it in mind.
“And Bellatrix?” he asked, holding his breath.
“Bellatrix Black had a vision of the future while taking the Dark Mark, as is apparently common. Part of that vision involved your son intwined with another male. When your child was born some years later, she remembered her vision and grew obsessed with saving him from the Pureblood practice of breaking those with this inclination. She studied the Fidelius Charm and made alterations that would allow her to hide the boy’s identity. She placed him in an orphanage in America across the sea to help hide him further from location spells. She also charmed the child so that he would not be adopted. She wanted to protect him from the possibility of an abusive home. It was her plan to check on him frequently, but within the year she was incarcerated in Azkaban.”
Lucius felt something beginning to rise from deep in his core. It filled his stomach and lungs, and rose up his throat. It was joy and bloodlust mixed. He wanted to throw his head back and howl. He had her! He had the one who had stolen his son!
Nails digging into the desk next to the chalice, Lucius forced himself to talk. “I appreciate your hard work, Huld. Four payments will be placed into your account as soon as the bank opens tomorrow.”
“Pleasure doing business, Lord Malfoy.”
The chalice went dark. Lucius stood over it, panting for several minutes before he managed to get his breathing under control. Very calmly, he cleaned the chalice and set it back in its place. Then he went to his room and changed into suitable clothes for visiting Knockturn Alley. He would need to find a team capable of breaking into Azkaban and stealing a prisoner without getting caught. Lucius would have her. By New Year she would be in his dungeon. He didn’t care how much it cost.
Chapter end.
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Freedom Bound in Chains