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
- 61
- 62
- 63
FREEDOM FOUND IN DEFIANCE
Warning: This story will cover topics such as: Child Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Homophobia, Slash (male/male relationships), Shota/Chan (children together sexually), Alpha/Omega, BDSM, Ownership/Claiming, Body Modification, Bullying, Violence, Death/Murder, Toys, Voyeurism, Rape, Cross-Dressing, Gender Fluid characters, and other sensitive topics. Please be aware of this BEFORE reading.
If such topics are triggers to you, please don’t read. I welcome any feedback but only in regards to making my writing and/or story better. Please don’t send me verbal abuse because I write about dark topics that I feel need to be addressed. I, in no way, endorse child abuse or pedophilia.
xXx
May 1st, 1991
Draco walked across an empty room. His feet sank into the plush carpet at his feet. All was quiet, all was still. He walked toward a dark window. There was nothing beyond it. Just as he was about to touch the glass it seemed to melt. Draco’s heart began to beat harder as he stepped through to the other side.
He was standing in a white room: the floor in white tile, the white walls bare, the white ceiling flat above his head. It was like standing in a large, white box. In the far right corner there was a large pile of something covered with a stark white sheet. It formed a type of lumpy pyramid as tall as Draco at its highest point. His lungs began to scream; he couldn’t draw a single breath. With a shaking hand, he reached forward and pulled the sheet away from the pile.
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… a pile of corpses as tall as he was.
He was screaming now. Screaming like the whole world was ending. He grabbed hold of a limp, cold arm and pulled. Harry’s dead body tumbled from the pile, green eyes faded… staring… empty.
Wailing, Draco collapsed to his knees as his whole world crumbled around him. He pulled Harry’s lifeless body to his chest as he sobbed. Harry’s skin was waxy and cold… repulsive. The smell was nearly overpowering. As Draco looked down at the body in his arms, the corpse’s head fell limp at an unnatural angle. Harry was dead and never coming back…
Draco sat up, drenched in sweat, heart thundering in his chest, tears streaming from his wild eyes. Cool hands touched his wet cheeks and Draco flinched, a sob rising in his throat.
“Shhh…” a sweet voice soothed him. “I’m okay… I’m here, Draco… Yours…”
Draco whimpered as his eyes focused. The room was shrouded in shadows, the sun not yet risen, but he could just make out Harry with his bright green eyes and messy black hair sitting next to him in their bed. He slowly released the painful grip he had on Harry’s thin wrist and flung his arms around his boy. Harry molded to his chest and hummed with - happy love.
Harry’s warm, gentle emotions filled the bond and eased Draco’s terror. Slowly his heart beat calmed and he was able to breathe normally, his harsh panting gasps quieting. * Love you, * he whispered telepathically into Harry’s mind.
Harry smiled against Draco’s sternum and turned his head to rub his cheek affectionally against Draco’s sweat-damp chest. Not quite able to smile yet, Draco lay down, pulling Harry so that the shorter boy lay sprawled half on top of him.
The dream haunted him. The icy terror of having lost Harry, of having failed him, wasn’t easy to shake. The fact that it was an actual memory and not just his imagination made it all the worse. An Unspeakable, Pandora Lovegood, had been summoned by Lucius when they had first been found to study Draco and Harry’s magical bond. It was rare, even for a twin bond, binding them at three points: magic, soul, and mind.
Instead, what Pandora found in her examination was the Black core of Voldemort’s magic that was still attached to Harry’s own. In her attempt to discover how to free Harry from that evil, she had created clones to experiment on. Failure after failure, she had eventually brought Draco to that cold, white room.
It was there that he’d seen with his own eyes the pile of Harry’s corpses, all of them killed painfully in the course of Pandora’s experiments. In fact, he’d participated in one of those experiments. He’d looked into Harry’s green eyes and watched as the boy was torn apart by magic, felt it in the artificial bond Pandora had established between him and the clone. Draco had watched helplessly as Pandora had cast the Killing Curse and killed Harry right in front of him. The memory wouldn’t leave him, even after three years.
Pandora had died studying the Black core inside Harry, but she had left Draco her notes. Notes she had told him never to share with anyone. Not that he would. If the world discovered Harry had Voldemort’s Black core in him, they’d be terrified. They’d lock Harry up, maybe kill him trying to get it out. Draco wouldn’t allow it.
Eyes silver and fierce, Draco stared up at the ceiling and held tight to Harry’s warm, sleeping body. Harry was HIS!Draco was going to save him… He was going to protect him… and he’d DESTROY anyone who got in his way.
xXx
Draco and Harry, wearing nice slacks and sweaters, arrived by portkey just before noon to a small stone circle placed in a field in Ottery St. Catchpole. The weather was a crisp 14 degrees Celsius/ 58 degrees Fahrenheit, but the sky was blue and the sun was bright, making it feel warmer. They carried two small, wrapped packages each. Ted carried even more while Andromeda carried a happy toddler on her hip.
It was May 1st. They were scheduled to return to the Malfoys for the month of May, but it had been arranged that they could attend Beltane and Dee’s 3rd birthday celebration with Andromeda and Ted first. Draco and Harry would portkey back to Malfoy manor as soon as the party was over.
A huge pavilion had been set up on the far side of the stone circle. There were wooden picnic tables, balloons, streamers, and a gaggle of redheads of all ages with a few blonds and brunets scattered here and there. Laughter and shouts filled the air. Draco’s lips tilted into a faint smile as Harry’s emotions came across the bond - happy excitement.
Ron spotted them first. The redhead came barreling over to them, his freckles bright on his ruddy cheeks. “Draco! Let’s try and get ‘em to play baseball!” - Ron had been roped into joining Draco and Harry’s summer baseball team and had become an enthusiast. Quidditch would always come first, but baseball came a close second.
“Hello, Ronald. Let us get settled in and say hello to everybody,” Andromeda cut in, smiling.
Ron went an even darker red as he kicked the ground. “Hello, Mrs. Tonks.”
Draco led Harry and Ted over to the gift table while Andromeda and Dee headed toward Molly at the food table. Bill, the Weasley’s oldest son, was sitting there with a redheaded toddler on his lap. Septimus Weasley, otherwise known as Tim or Timmy, saw Draco and his pale blue eyes lit up. A smile broke across the toddler’s face and he reached for Draco eagerly.
“Hey, Draco. Hiya, Harry,” Bill greeted with an easy smile. He was a dark tan and his hair a bright copper from spending most of his time in the deserts of Egypt as a Curse-Breaker. “Good morning, Ted. Happy Beltane.”
“Happy Beltane, Bill. You look well,” Ted answered politely, setting his packages down.
Draco ignored Timmy’s reaching hands and ran his fingers gently through the boy’s thick, wavy red hair. “Happy birthday, Tim,” he said softly.
Harry ducked in next to him and gave the baby a heart-felt kiss on the cheek. “Happy birthday, Timmy.” He looked up through his bangs and round black glasses, smiling shyly. “Happy Beltane, Bill.”
Bill’s face softened even as he held onto the squirming toddler who was trying to get closer to an aloof Draco. “Are those for the kiddos?”
“Yes!” Harry gave a happy grin and placed the two presents on the pile.
Draco did the same with the two he held and took Harry’s hand. “See you around.” He led them into the crowd, ignoring the way Timmy’s eyes followed him intently. Draco knew if he gave Tim attention, he’d never get rid of the boy and he wanted to have some fun before he was stuck babysitting all afternoon.
He led Harry toward the stone circle. A tall pole had been erected in the center. Long ribbons of every color hung limp around it waiting for the dance. Most of the kids their age were gathered there. The girls were in bright, long-sleeved dresses while the boys wore pants and colorful sweaters. Harry had chosen a pale purple while Draco wore a deep sapphire blue.
Ron, Ginny, Luna, and two kids he didn’t know looked over as they approached. Luna, thick blonde hair filled with colorful ribbons, saw them and smiled. She had on a sparkly gold dress with pink ballet shoes and tiny, real cucumbers hanging from her earrings.
“Prince Draco, Prince Harry!” she said happily and gave a graceful curtsy.
“How are you?” Draco asked softly as Harry gave her a quick hug.
After the experiment with Harry’s clones, he’d seen Luna’s mother in a different light, but Pandora had tried to help them and had left Draco notes so that he could figure out how to save Harry. This girl with big blue eyes and vacant smile had lost her mother because of them. It made him feel responsible for her in some way.
“The devas are bright and happy today,” she answered whimsically.
Ginny loped her arm through Luna’s, her face a bright red the way it was whenever she was around Harry and Draco. “Are you dancing this year? Please, Draco?” Her usual braided pigtails had been exchanged for a messy bun. She wore a pretty, pale green dress and had white ribbons in her hair.
- nervous anticipation -
Draco caught and held Harry’s deep green eyes. They had sat out on the last two Maypole Dances. Harry loved watching. He thought it was beautiful, but he was terrified of messing it up. All the spinning and interweaving of the ribbons seemed too complicated.
* Just follow my lead, * he decided, telling Harry across the bond. They were going to Hogwarts in a few months. This would be a good test of Harry’s nerves and show Harry that he was more able than he thought. *Remember the whole point is for the ribbons to get tangled. You can’t do it wrong. * Looking away from his boy, he gave the girls a polite smile. “Yes. We’ll dance this year.”
Ginny gave a happy squeal and darted toward her mother to tell her the news.
- anxiety trust - “Yes, Draco,” Harry said softly, head ducked submissively.
Draco ran his thumb gently over the back of Harry’s hand.
“Draco, this is Hermione and Neville,” Ron stood leaning on a stone from the circle and gestured carelessly to the two brown-haired kids Draco didn’t know. “Mum invited them this year when she heard about Hermione.” The redhead leaned closer and whispered, “Hermione is a Pleasant. She’s being fostered by the Longbottom family.”
Ron’s whisper wasn’t quiet enough for the two kids not to hear and the girl ducked her head so that her frizzy hair hid her face. The boy’s chubby cheeks went red, but he said nothing, shifting his weight unhappily.
Muggleborns were getting taken from their Muggle families more and more often now. The first few were older and attended Hogwarts already. They had been pathetically grateful for being fostered by a Magical family and a few had even been open about the abuse they had suffered there. Such stories had increased the popularity of Loretta’s Law.
As more families began to foster Muggleborns, an amendment to the law was created for all fostered Muggleborns to change their names to match Loretta Pleasant’s. It was said they did this to honor the girl who had inspired the law that protected and saved them, but Draco took lessons from Lucius and saw another reason behind the name change: it was so that the fostered Muggleborns could be more easily identified.
One reason for this was to prevent the accidental corruption of a Pureblood line. If a Muggleborn was fostered by a Pureblood family, a courting family might assume they were legitimate heirs to that line. A marriage between a fostered Muggleborn and a Pureblood would corrupt the line and had to be prevented at all cost. Of course, there were those like the Weasleys who didn’t care about blood purity and were considered blood-traitors because of it even though their line wasn’t technically corrupted yet.
In any case, as Loretta’s Law became more and more popular and kids were taken from their families at a younger and younger age, the rightness of it had become murkier to Draco. Lucius speculated that Muggleborn fosterlings would become a type of servant to the adopting family and a symbol of status. If the child was actually abused, all the better. They’d be desperately loyal to the family who wanted them.
Draco had never met a Pleasant in person and he was slightly curious which way this Hermione fell. Was she an abused child or had she been swept up in the Pureblood demand for a Muggleborn to foster?
“Thanks, Ron,” Draco said calmly and reached forward to push the girl’s hair away from her face so he could see it. “Hi, Hermione. I’m Draco Malfoy. This is Harry Potter. It’s nice to meet you.”
Her expression was guarded; she had already learned a degree of shame for what she was. However, she hadn’t flinched when Draco moved his hand toward her face to touch her hair nor was she afraid to look in his eyes.
“I’ve read about you in the papers, of course,” she stated stiffly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She then gave an unpracticed curtsy.
Draco gave her a cool smile. He doubted she had been abused, or at least not to the extent Draco would consider abuse. Not like he and Harry had been in the Blackmarket Hold where survival had been a very real daily struggle and not like Percy who had been molested for most of a year by a mysterious man in the Gryffindor dorms.
“Have you ever danced around a Maypole?” Draco asked casually, losing interest.
“No,” she admitted reluctantly and flushed red in embarrassment, clearly sensitive to being made to feel lesser.
“I haven’t, either!” Neville chimed in suddenly, still red in the face. His eyes darted nervously, unable to maintain contact long. After his outburst, his voice dropped significantly. “I… My family doesn’t… celebrate… much…”
Draco lifted an eyebrow. It was the boy who actually showed evidence of abuse and he was the Pureblood. Neville was shorter than Ron but a little taller than Draco. He was plump with mousy brown hair and brown eyes. There weren’t any marks on him, but with magic there wouldn’t always be.
“It’s my first year, too,” Harry chimed in after receiving Draco’s subtle nod. He gave Neville and Hermione a warm smile. Hermione visibly relaxed, but Neville remained tense. “Draco says you can’t do it wrong. The ribbons are supposed to get tangled.”
“We can show you baseball, too!” Ron jumped in enthusiastically. “It’s a Muggle game, so I bet Hermione knows about it. Draco is the team captain on the summer team we belong to. We’re the Yellow Jackets!” he told them proudly, puffing out his chest. “We took second place in last year’s tournament. Practice starts again next month. It’ll be our last tournament before Hogwarts, so we gotta win it!”
Draco smirked. “Oh, we will,” he said confidently.
“Why are you wearing a collar?” Hermione suddenly asked, eyes looking intently at the black leather collar that sat snug around the base of Harry’s throat and only partially covered by his sweater.
Harry’s hand lifted to cover the collar protectively. He still harbored a fear that someone would take it from him. It symbolized Draco’s claim on him, the loss of which terrified him to this day.
“It’s some Muggle fashion,” Ron answered annoyed. “Don’t you know that?”
Hermione went red in the face, frowning, but before she could respond, Draco thought it best to leave. Chokers were a fad among Muggles, but they were usually worn by girls and didn’t usually resemble dog collars. It would be best if the Wizarding world didn’t realize that.
“Come on, Harry. Let’s get some food.” He took Harry by the hand and gave a polite nod toward Neville and Hermione. “You are welcome to play if you would like to join us.”
As soon as Molly saw them, she gave them huge hugs. She had Dee on her hip. The little girl was always smiling and giggling, her dark brown curls bouncing and her blue eyes sparkling. Where Tim was silent and hadn’t spoken yet, Dee babbled and giggled constantly. She was a delight and everyone doted on her.
Draco caught sight of Madam Longbottom. She was a severe woman who wore dark maroon and black even on this bright and festive day. Her hat and bag had animal fur and feathers. Death seemed to shroud her.
Everyone ate and drank, the adults getting a bit tipsy. Eventually they gathered the kids who wanted to participate in the Maypole Dance. Harry and Neville looked very nervous and anxious as they took up their ribbons. Ginny was the complete opposite. She had been crowned May Queen again this year and wore a huge crown of white and pink flowers. Luna smiled vaguely, looking content, while Hermione had a frown of intense concentration. Ron just wanted to get it over with and play baseball. Draco shook his head and gave Harry a reassuring smile.
Bill began a happy jig on the fiddle while Ted piped along on a flute. Andromeda and Molly shook tambourines. A jaunty song somehow came out of all the noise and Ginny began to skip around the pole, pushing everyone along. They ducked and jumped over each other’s ribbons. It soon became a game and they ran around laughing and spinning. Their ribbons became shorter and shorter until they all met together at the base of the pole, red-faced and out of breath. The adults clapped and roared their approval and fathers came to lift their daughters on their shoulders. Ginny and Luna looked thrilled, but Hermione stood alone next to Neville with no father to speak of. Even Dee was lifted carefully onto Ted’s shoulders.
Ron was able to wrangle ten people into playing baseball not long after. Draco was always catcher and Harry always played pitcher. Ron, Arthur, Bill, Ginny and Molly were the Reds. Andromeda, Neville, Hermione, Luna, and Ted were the Nots. They took turns fielding and batting in turns. Having more adults on the team gave the Reds the advantage during batting, but the Nots had the advantage during fielding. It was a close game, but the Reds took it in the end much to Ron and Ginny’s delight.
Dee and Tim opened their presents shortly afterward. They received clothes and a few toys. They even blew out the three candles on their shared birthday cake. It was shared because Molly and Andromeda had both gotten pregnant on Samhain, or Halloween, night while they were caught in a faery ring. Exactly six months later, they had both gone into labor on Beltane or May 1st. The women claimed it was because the babies were special and had a special connection to nature, but the truth probably had something to do with fairy magic.
As the sun began to set, a bonfire was lit. Bill and the other adult males leapt over the flames to the applause and gasps of the watching crowd. It was a purifying ritual while the Maypole was masculinity wrapped in femininity, the symbol of fertility and sex. Draco knew most of the couples here would be getting it on tonight and he looked to Harry, his everything.
The firelight softened the boy’s face and illuminated his happy smile. Draco squeezed his hand and pulled him closer so that he could stand behind him and wrap him in a hug. * Love you, * he whispered into Harry’s mind.
- LOVE gratitude happy - came rushing back.
Draco smiled and pressed his face into Harry’s messy black hair to hide it.
xXx
June 28th, 1991
Draco was sitting on the couch, leaning against the arm. Harry was on the floor between his legs, Draco running his hand rhythmically through Harry’s soft, messy hair. They both had Earth Science textbooks propped up in front of them. The living room fireplace flared with green fire. Draco looked up lazily, expecting Dora to step free with Andromeda and Ted. His eyes widened however when Dora practically leapt through the fire and spun around, her open school robe flaring, her hair a bright, flaming red.
Andromeda strode from the fire equally up in arms. “… no thought to what this would do to the family!”
“What, Mother? Represent the family with honor?”
Dee, who had been asleep on the rug with a blanket and pillow, sat up and began to cry. Harry looked up at Draco and received a short nod. He then immediately moved to the toddler and pulled her into his arms. She quieted, watching with big blue eyes as her older sister and mother continued to scream.
“Honor! That’s a fine thing to put on your grave! I’m sure it will be very comforting!”
Red in the face, Dora grew a few inches to be slightly taller than her mother and stepped forward so they were less than a few inches apart. “I like how much faith you have in me! I haven’t died yet, Mother!”
“The Aurors is no place for you, Nymphadora!”
“And you think you know what my place is? I’ll decide my own place! I will be starting the Auror program!”
“You thoughtless, stupid girl!” Andromeda lifted her hand to strike her daughter across the face, but Dora knocked her arm away with enough force that Andromeda staggered.
“I’ll grab my things,” Dora said coldly, her hair turning a dark, jet black. “A friend will put me up.”
Ted looked sadly on as his daughter stormed past him to the stairs up to her room. Andromeda, furious and crying, stomped into the kitchen without saying a word.
Draco stood and set his book aside. “Come on, Harry. Let’s tell Dora goodbye.” He held his hand out expectantly.
Harry stood with some effort, hefting Dee onto his hip. The girl’s feet dangled to Harry’s knees, but he managed. The sound of Dee sniffling was loud in Harry’s ears and - remorse guilt - flooded his heart.
“This had nothing to do with you.” Draco came up behind Harry as they reached the second floor landing. He slipped his fingers between Harry’s skin and collar, pulling it snug against Harry’s throat in warning.
Draco maintained his grip as they ascended the stairs to the third floor. He walked behind Harry, arm stretched up to maintain his hold on the collar. By the time they reached the top, - calm acceptance - had replaced the heavy emotions from before.
They found Dora in her bedroom. Her Hogwarts robe was gone. In its place she wore a pale blue, baggy button up shirt tucked into pale blue jeans with huge pink flowers all over them. Her light brown belt matched her work boots. She had rolled the shirt’s sleeves to halfway up her forearm. Her hair was short and frizzy around her head, still a dark black. Her eyes brightened to blue, matching Dee’s, when she turned and saw them in the doorway.
“Well, we knew it would be like this,” she said ruefully with a smile, her hair going brown. “I’m sure it will blow over in a few months, maybe a year tops. You boys will be going to Hogwarts in a few months, so you probably won’t even notice.”
Dora hefted her duffle bag over her shoulder and came over to ruffle Dee’s curls. “I love you, little Dee Dee.” She kissed the girl’s chubby cheek. She turned to Harry, giving him a sweet smile. “Just Owl me if you need anything, okay? We’re family. No matter what.”
“I love you,” Harry told her tearfully. “I’m sure you’ll do amazing as an Auror.”
She flashed them a seemingly carefree grin and turned to Draco. His grey eyes watched her calmly. She handed him a thick envelope. “I catalogued all the good hiding spots in Hogwarts as well as a few interesting little tidbits. Give ‘em hell, will ya?”
“Good luck.”
Dora patted his shoulder bracingly once before pushing past him on the stairs, leaving for good. They could hear Andromeda yelling something to her before a door slammed loud enough they could hear it on the third floor. Dee put her head down, tucking it against Harry’s neck, crying softly. Harry stared wide-eyed at Draco.
The blond pulled Harry into his arms, Dee held safely between them. Harry tucked his face against Draco’s neck. “It’s going to be okay, Harry. They’ll make up. Dora’s gonna be great and Andromeda will be proud. Trust me.”
“Yes, Draco,” Harry answered softly, relaxing into Draco’s hold.
xXx
July 2nd, 1991
Just shortly after dawn Narcissa carried the letter the boys had brought to her from her older sister down to the informal breakfast room. It was one of her favorite rooms. It had cream wallpaper with a pale brown diamond pattern. The ceiling was white, but you could see fat wooden beams crossing along the top. A soft yellow chandelier that looked like bare tree branches with about a dozen golden candles hung from the center.
Making the room look bigger, there was a big golden-framed mirror on one wall that sat above the wall’s halfway mark. Underneath the mirror, on the lower half of the wall, was white wood with a small lip at the top. The table was dark and carved in a rectangle that could fit three dinning chairs on the long sides and one chair at either end. The floor was polished hardwood, and there were two narrow windows that stood floor to ceiling and showed a small hedge garden. On the center of the table was a low bowl of white flowers and two golden candlesticks with white candles lit.
Each place setting had china plates that sat on top of each other, each slightly smaller than the one on the bottom with many silver forks, knives, and spoons surrounding it. It was a picture of elegance and high-born etiquette, and Lucius matched the room perfectly.
He was already dressed immaculately for the day, his long hair tied back at the nape of his neck, his day robes perfectly tailored to his form, and his cane resting against his chair. His eyes softened as he took in his wife. Narcissa was adorned in a white dress that was reminiscent of Grecian robes. Large pink flowers graced the semi-sheer fabric. Her long golden hair was pinned up on her head, revealing her long neck.
“Good morning,” she greeted her family.
“Good morning, Narcissa,” Harry answered back, smiling.
“Good morning,” Draco said more simply.
“I received a notice from Andromeda,” she informed them as Lottie, one of their two house elves, began serving. “Nymphadora graduated the top of her year.”
“A fine achievement,” Lucius praised and cut his eyes meaningfully toward Draco. “It is a good example to follow.”
Draco ignored this. He would do as well as he wanted to, but Harry felt sharp - anxiety - always needing to please. Draco squeezed his hand firmly under the table.
“She has also been accepted into the Auror Apprentice program,” Narcissa added.
“If that is the course she’d like to pursue, she clearly has the scores for it.” - Lucius’s words were supportive, but his tone expressed doubt.
“It’s a dangerous field,” Narcissa agreed quietly. “Hopefully Denebola will pursue a more peaceful course.” Her worried eyes fell on Draco.
Draco gave a careless shrug. “It’s not something I’m interested in.” If he needed to kill someone or investigate something, a group like the Aurors would only slow him down.
Not knowing his thoughts, Narcissa gave him a relieved smile and returned to her breakfast, the conversation dropped in favor of discussing the playdate they had scheduled with Draco and Harry’s “closest” friends.
These friends were the ones approved by Narcissa of course; families loyal specifically to Lucius Malfoy. Pansy Parkinson, a member of one of the twenty-eight Sacred Bloodlines, as well as Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle - Purebloods but whose lines were contaminated a few generations back by Halfblood spouses, preventing them from being considered one of the Sacred.
As luck would have it, Draco didn’t mind his mother’s choices. Pansy was an emotional girl and sometimes thoughtless, but she was quick and witty. She also genuinely liked both Harry and Draco. More importantly, she was obedient, prepped by her own mother to make Draco happy as a potential mate.
As for Vincent and Gregory, they were products of too much inbreeding. Their two lines had this strange chemistry, intermarrying again and again. Even now Vince and Greg’s mothers were sisters. Their fathers were first cousins. Thus the uncanny resemblance: both blond, hulking boys with watery blue eyes. They also had difficulties with reading and writing.
Vince especially had a hard time with words. When he spoke, it was slow, making him sound dumb. Most people didn’t have the patience to wait for him to get them out and just bowled right over him. It was a shame because Vince was remarkably insightful, which Draco had used to his advantage a few times already.
As their mothers sat in a garden having tea, Draco led the others toward the woods. It was hot and the shade and privacy were welcome.
“Of course father doesn’t think I need to bring all my dresses with me to Hogwarts. I know I can’t wear them under my uniform, but I want to be prepared for any eventuality,” Pansy chattered on to Draco as they walked between the trees. Harry, Vince, and Greg were slightly ahead of them looking for birds in the trees and other animals, their soft voices a soothing backdrop. “Slytherin has a reputation to uphold, after all,” she continued, tucking her shoulder-length black hair behind an ear as she looked over at him with bright eyes and flushed cheeks from the exercise.
“I’m not going to Slytherin, Pansy,” Draco told her with a wry smile.
Pansy almost tripped, too busy staring at him to see the tree root in front of her feet. “You can’t be serious! You’re the very definition of Slytherin!”
Draco smirked and came to a stop, leaning back against a tree and folding his arms smugly across his chest. “Which is why I won’t be in Slytherin.”
She could only gape at him, wide-eyed.
Grey eyes watched Harry. The boy looked so small compared to the taller, bigger Vince and Greg. “I’m not going to be separated from Harry. He’ll have more supporters in Gryffindor.”
“Gyffindor!” Pansy gasped. “He’s not a Gryffindor, either, Draco!”
He chuckled. “Neither am I, but I’m even less a Hufflepuff.”
Pansy made a choking sound. “I would say so!”
“Gryffindor is where we’ll meet halfway.”
“Even if that were true, how are you going make that happen?” Putting her hands on her hips, she stood across from her friend with a very demanding expression. “You don’t just get to pick!”
Draco stared unblinking back at her, eyes sharp. “I will.”
She huffed, crossing her arms and looking away. She could never hold his gaze when he got like that. “Are we allowed to be friends in this plan of yours? You know Gryffindors and Slytherins don’t get along.”
Draco pushed off the tree and tugged playfully at her hair. “I’d never let a good resource go untapped.”
She scowled, making him laugh. “Gee, thanks.”
xXx
July 31st, 1991
One month later, it was the last night before they head back to the Tonks’. It was also Harry’s 11th birthday, and Dobby woke them before dawn to deliver a very important letter.
- relief gratitude joy - sang through the bond as Harry clutched his acceptance letter from Hogwarts. No matter how much Draco had reassured him that he was going to Hogwarts, Harry still thought it was possible for the school to decide they didn’t want him.
Draco smiled as the messy-haired boy beamed happily at Dobby and thanked him profusely. He was practically hugging the letter to his chest. Dobby, of course, gushed about how great Sir Harry was, and the two babbled over each other with huge grins plastered across their faces.
“Enough,” Draco chuckled and gave a yawn. “I suppose we might as well start our day.”
“Do you think we can go shopping today…?” Harry trailed off - guilty excited. He ducked his head and let his bangs hide his eyes.
“I think Narcissa will be thrilled to take us shopping,” Draco answered wryly. The woman genuinely loved to shop.
Sure enough once they dressed and made their way to the breakfast room, Narcissa took Harry’s letter with a happy smile. “Congratulations, Harry! I do believe this calls for a little trip to Diagon.”
- happy -
They made trips to Diagon a few times a year, but today felt different. It felt like Harry was seeing it for the first time. All the buildings were sort of wonky and leaning toward each other and toward the cobblestone street. Most of them had huge windows so that you could look in without going inside. There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels’ eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon…
“May we get our wands first?” Draco asked Narcissa politely, his grey eyes gleaming. He was very much looking forward to being able to wield spells.
“Of course!” She led the way easily through the gaggle of witches and wizards. People seemed to realize who she was and part for her.
The boys followed in her wake, walking hand-in-hand, causing excited whispers to erupt behind them wherever they went. Lucius came after, expression impassive, his silver cane-head gleaming in the morning light. There was an even wider space around him than his wife, giving him plenty of room to keep an eye on his family.
Ollivander’s wand shop wasn’t too far down the alley. It had a grey exterior and seemed kind of slumped. Two rounded-out glass windows with several window panes revealed a very narrow interior with shelving floor to ceiling with slender boxes of wands. A tiny bell chimed when they entered. The boys stood next to Narcissa with Lucius lurking behind them as usual. There were no lights on in the building. The only the light came from the front windows. It cast the back of the shop and the narrow walkways in deep shadows.
A man with white frizzy hair that stood up around his head appeared out of the gloom. He wore a frayed coat and a grimy white shirt with a thin scarf tied around his neck. He should have looked ragged, but the energy around the man made him seem eccentric instead.
“First customers of the day,” the old man spoke softly, a leering grin appearing on his face. He had milky white eyes, but he wasn’t blind. He looked dead at Narcissa and said, “Willow, nine and a half inches, unicorn hair. Very supple wand. Good for long incantations.”
“Yes,” Narcissa inclined her head, smiling in amusement. “It has served me well.”
Those white eyes shifted to Lucius. “Ash, ten and three quarters, dragon heartstring. Very stiff wand. Packs quite the punch. A dueler’s wand.”
Lucius said nothing. He remained stoic against the old wizard’s gaze.
Draco took a subtle step forward so that he was slightly in front of Harry when those eyes fell on them. Harry moved in closer to his protector, but he kept his head up and his eyes even. His public mask was firmly in place.
“Ah, I can tell you’ll be a difficult one,” Ollivander murmured. He lifted his hand as if he was going to stroke Draco’s face, but he stopped before his surprisingly graceful fingers came in contact with Draco’s skin. Muttering to himself, he disappeared among the gloom.
“There are only three core types used in the UK,” Narcissa informed them when Draco turned curious eyes up to her. “Dragon heartstring, unicorn hair, and phoenix feather. The way the core is combined with the variety of woods and the length of each wand makes each one unique.”
“Quite so!” Ollivander enthused as he returned as suddenly as he had gone. He had an arm full of about nine wands. “The wand chooses the wizard. That much has always been clear to those of us who have studied wand lore. These connections are complex. An initial attraction, and then a mutual quest for experience, the wand learning from the wizard, the wizard from the wand.”
He set the wands on the counter near him and opened the first box. A very dark wooded wand was lifted from the padding inside and handed to Draco to try. Draco took the wand and frowned at the sensation of freezing cold, as if the wand were ice. Ollivander snatched it away, muttering again as he quickly re-boxed the wand and presented the second. This one was very pale. Draco grasped hold and they felt a rush of magic and then the sound of something toppling in the back. Harry’s eyes went wide.
“No matter,” Ollivander dismissed and snatched the wand away. “Let’s see…”
Draco tried four more wands. It was the eighth that lit up with a soft light like a sunbeam, warming the air around them and sparkling gold.
Harry gasped - joy awe love - his green eyes bright and happy behind his glasses.
Draco gave him a smirk, his head tilted proudly as magic seemed to shimmer under his skin. This was his wand, no doubt about it. His hand made a possessive fist around the slender bit of wood.
“Hawthorn, ten inches, unicorn hair,” Ollivander murmured in pride. “Semi-flexible. A very protective wand and versatile. This wand is full of contradiction and embodies duality.”
“Thank you, sir,” Draco told him politely, giving him a half bow. “It is perfect.”
“May I see it?” Harry asked shyly.
Draco unclenched his fist and presented his new wand on both palms so his boy could see.
Narcissa leaned down slightly to also get a good look. It was beautiful really. Dark, nearly black at the handle, it had a slightly raised lip and then became a shade of brown. It was very smooth and straight, no curves or bumps or knots.
“A very good wand,” she approved.
“Now… Let’s see which wand chooses you, shall we?” Ollivander asked, looking eagerly at Harry.
Harry blushed, but he kept his head up.
Again Ollivander reached out, almost touching Harry’s face, before turning and heading deep into his store. Harry waited nervously, holding tightly to Draco’s free hand. A thought had come to him. What if none of the wands wanted him?
* You will have a wand, * Draco stated firmly into his mind.
Harry’s blush deepened, but he relaxed at Draco’s proclamation. His confidence didn’t last long, however.
Ollivander tried over a dozen wands on Harry and they all rejected the boy - the curtains caught on fire, one whole section of wands had flown from the shelves making a huge mess, Ollivander’s hair had turned a puke green, and one wand actually bent in half, much to Harry’s horror.
Harry’s hands were shaking now, terrified of grasping another wand. Tears filled his eyes, but they were forbidden to fall, trapped behind a public mask that was about to crumble any minute.
Draco stood behind his boy, wrapping him in his arms. * You’ll find your wand, Harry. Be patient. *
He would have soothed Harry, telling him it wasn’t his fault, but he knew from experience that when Harry felt guilty, comfort only made him feel worse and not understood. Harry needed to be controlled, punished, or given tasks of atonement. It was the only thing that made him feel better. However, Draco’s options were limited as they stood at the front of Ollivander’s shop with Narcissa next to them and Lucius behind them. All he could do was give a warning pinch to the soft tissue of Harry’s lower stomach.
Harry lowered his head in acceptance at the small sting - shame fear submission.
“Here we are!” Ollivander’s voice came loud from the back of the room. He appeared a moment later with a single dusty box in his hands. “Nearly eighty years old, it is. Give it a try.”
Harry didn’t move to take it. It had a dark brown handle that looked like the bark of a tree, uneven and rough. The section above the handle was a little thinner and lighter, but it still wasn’t as polished as Draco’s before smoothing into five inches of polished, smooth wood.
* Take it, * Draco ordered.
Harry’s hand immediately lifted and grasped hold of that rough-hewn handle. Immediately, streamers of red, gold, and silver spilled from the tip like ribbons. Warmth radiated up his arm and pooled in his belly. Harry gave a shocked gasp and looked almost desperately up at Draco as the blond came to stand beside him.
* Good boy, * Draco praised, briefly touching Harry’s flushed cheek.
Harry ducked his head and practically melted as Draco pulled him protectively against his chest, hugging him with Harry’s new wand trapped between them. Harry was shaking in reaction, nearly overwhelmed with emotion - relief gratitude unworthiness.
Draco looked up as he pet Harry’s hair, the boy’s damp face pressing against his collarbone. Ollivander stared back with weird intensity. Draco tightened his hold on Harry and lifted an eyebrow. “What is it?”
“Eleven inches, holly, phoenix feather. Nice and supple… But it is curious, very curious…”
“What’s curious?” Draco asked sharply.
“Is there something unusual with his wand?” Narcissa asked a bit more politely.
Harry unfolded from Draco’s embrace, giving the blond more room to move if he had to. He clutched his new wand to his chest.
Ollivander’s white eyes stared unblinkingly at Harry. “I remember every single wand I’ve ever sold, Mr. Potter. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather - just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother gave you that scar.” He lifted and pointed with a slender finger directly to Harry’s forehead.
Draco felt Lucius go tense behind him and would have rolled his eyes if his heart wasn’t pounding a mile a minute. Lucius had withdrawn from Harry since Pandora’s death. He was certain the boy was doomed or would become possessed by the Dark Lord. He’d done all he could to convince Draco to break his bond with Harry and had only grown colder and more distant with each of Draco’s refusals. This would only reinforce Lucius’s paranoia.
- horror acceptance sorrow - It wasn’t news to Harry that he was a disgusting freak. Draco was his only redeeming grace, so it didn’t surprise him that he had the same wand as the monster who had killed so many.
“The Dark Lord’s wand was holly?” Draco questioned, deciding to address Harry’s world-view later. Narcissa’s hand clutched his shoulder fearfully.
“No,” Ollivander answered in a whisper, his attention shifting to Draco. “Thirteen and a half inches, yew, phoenix feather. A powerful wand, terrible but great.”
“Then it’s not the same,” Draco declared to everyone in the room. He took Harry’s hand. “Come on.” Looking up at Narcissa, he informed her, “We’ll be waiting for you at Madam Malkin’s.”
Harry obediently followed in his wake, his hand securely clasped in Draco’s. The magic of the day had disappeared. He hardly looked around, his head ducked and his face hidden, his mask having fallen away. His new wand was still in his hand and he stared down at it numbly.
“Good morning, madam,” Draco said politely as they entered the robe maker’s shop.
The plump woman gave a big smile. “Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter, good morning.” Other customers began to whisper loudly, all eyes on them. Even Malkin’s assistants had stopped to stare.
“Before we go for our fitting, would it be possible to use your lavatory?” Draco asked, using the high-class manners Narcissa had drummed into them over the years.
Malkin, of course, gave permission and pointed the way even though it was staff only. It was partially hidden by a staircase and a mountain of swatches and textile materials. Draco pulled Harry into the small space with him. It was tiled with a toilet and sink, barely larger than a cupboard, but it was spotlessly clean.
Draco shut the toilet lid and had Harry sit on it. “Give me your wand,” he ordered lowly.
Harry obediently lifted his wand, eyes on the floor.
Draco took it from him. As soon as his fingers closed around it, he could feel a response. A low hum that resonated deep in his bones. It wasn’t his wand, but it was his twin’s and it recognized him. He gave a slow smile, eyes on the bowed head of messy black hair.
* Look at me, * he told him.
Harry’s face lifted, his green eyes going round behind black-framed glasses.
Draco stood, posture commanding and arrogant, feet braced, hips canted. He held Harry’s wand up to his mouth. Pink lips parted as silver eyes stared down at him and a slick tongue pressed firmly against the wood. Harry’s breath caught at the sight, his eyes glued to Draco’s mouth.
Heart pumping steady and strong in his chest, thrilling in Harry’s attention, Draco slowly wrapped his tongue around Harry’s wand and dragged it down the length of the stick. Sensually up one side and down the other until the whole thing glistened slightly from his spit. Harry was panting softly, cheeks burning red and feeling hot.
* You’re mine, Harry. All of you. Every inch. Everything of yours is mine. Even this, * Draco whispered into his twin’s mind. He placed the tip of the wand at his lips and slowly slid it into his mouth, pressing it in until it hit the back this throat before sliding it just as slowly out. “Open your mouth, Harry.”
Harry opened his mouth, Draco placing the wet wand horizontal so that he was biting down on it in two spots. His tongue lapped at it, sucking Draco’s spit from it.
“Don’t drop it and don’t hurt it,” Draco purred. “Don’t make a sound.”
He pushed open the red day jacket that Harry had chosen to wear that morning. As Harry’s breath caught, Draco slowly untied the thin, maroon tie at Harry’s throat and unbuttoned the pristine white shirt. He thumbed the boy’s nipples before pinching them sharply.
Harry arched into the pain, his eyes squeezing closed. He didn’t make a sound.
Draco smiled softly, filled with love. He left off torturing Harry’s nipples. Still smiling he undid Harry’s belt and button, unzipping the boy. Neither of them wore underwear. Draco knelt and pressed his face into Harry’s crotch. He wrapped his arms around Harry’s thin waist as he began to slowly lick in circles around the boy’s small member.
Harry was sweating now, his whole body arched in a tense line. Draco got him nice and wet and stimulated before turning his head and bit viciously down on his favorite place on Harry’s inner thigh.
Harry went rigid, not breathing as the sharp pain shot through his whole body like lightning. The second bite on his other thigh nearly made him scream. He would have if he'd had any air at all. Tears soaked his face.
Then Draco was licking him again, between the two points of molten agony. Harry's jaw loosened, the wand trembled, but he caught it with his teeth at the last minute. Hot, searing pain and throbbing pleasure - he couldn’t get his breath.
Yours, I’m yours, Draco, magic’s yours, body’s yours, free me, save me, hurt me, Draco, yours… Thoughts and words filled up all the spaces not filled already with the pain and pleasure, trapped and unspoken, chained by Draco’s order of silence… and he was coming apart!
Draco’s shoulders and face were damp from sweat. Harry’s pleasure and pain had stormed the bond, bringing him over the edge with his boy. He shifted his hips, his hand lifting from between his legs. There was a small damp spot in his pants from where he’d cum. Mostly clear and only a small amount, it wasn’t like Raymond’s cum yet, but he knew in a few years it would be.
Harry lay in a limp puddle on the toilet seat. His shirt and jacket hung open, his wand between his teeth with his chin and chest slick with drool. His pants were falling off his hips and exposing his wet, now limp member. He was a gorgeous sight. Draco leaned up to kiss Harry’s drool-slick mouth, his tongue tangling with Harry’s around the wand between Harry’s teeth.
“Good boy,” Draco praised, breathless and hoarse, as he leaned back. “Now get dressed. Malkin’s waiting.”
- LOVE gratitude - Harry spat out his wand, catching it in his hand. “Yes, Draco,” he murmured softly. He looked down at his wand and felt warm again. The two bites on his thighs burned and throbbed like acid, comforting him. Whatever the wand hand been, it was Draco’s now, just as Harry was.
He held it carefully, cherishing it, as he clumsily buttoned his pants and shirt, straightening his jacket. Draco’s warm grey eyes watched him as he leaned against the door. Harry felt safe under that gaze and smiled softly as he washed his hands and face, running his damp fingers through his hair, trying to smooth it down.
Draco pushed off the door and kissed Harry’s cheek. He took the boy’s hand and led him back out into the shop. Narcissa was there, Lucius was not.
Narcissa gave them a serene smile. “Are you ready for your fitting?” she asked.
Madam Malkin fitted them herself. She put them up on stools in front of the big mirrors while her assistants worked on a few other people. Draco arranged it so that Harry was to the left of him on the outside of the line next to no one but Draco. Draco on the other hand was next to a tall teenager around thirteen or so. He had cropped dark brown hair, heavy dark eyebrows, and thick lips. His dark eyes met Draco’s in the mirror and he gave a sharp grin.
“Going to Hogwarts this year?” the boy asked, his voice breaking toward the end.
“Yes.” Draco continued to watch him with no expression.
“I’m trying out for Chaser this year. Interested in Quidditch?”
“We’ll see.” Draco shifted his attention to Harry for a minute, checking on him, but Harry was standing calm and patient as Malkin measured the slight changes in their dimensions from last year.
“Potter, huh?” the boy said, voice low. Draco snapped his attention back to him. “Wouldn’t think in a million years a Malfoy would get involved with a Potter.”
“That so?” Draco asked quietly, a dangerous glint in his eye. “How rude of me. I don’t believe I caught your name?”
“My name’s Pucey, Adrian Pucey. Third-year Slytherin.” Pucey gave another sharp smile. “What House are you hoping to get into?”
“Oh, I have a feeling the Hat will know exactly where to put me,” Draco drawled and gave a sharp smile of his own.
Chapter end.
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Freedom Bound in Chains