Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Freedom Bound in Chains	By : TaintedSensibly Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 58479 -:- 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
- 63
- 64
- 65
Secrets
Lucius made his way purposefully toward the dungeons below the manor. Narcissa was asleep in their bed, a subtle spell he’d cast ensuring she’d stay that way. The boys had left to Andromeda’s a week ago at the start of August, so the manor was silent and still, feeling empty.
A cold smile turned up the corners of his lips as his booted feet stepped with a muffled click onto the rough, stone floor of the dungeon. It was dark, his Lumos flinging dark shadows along the walls as it illuminated his immediate area. It was cold and damp, his every step creating strange echoes.
The cell he wanted was at the far end. A thick iron door with no windows or flaps cut into its surface sealed the cell into an inescapable prison. Runes were carved into the smooth, cold surface, making it unbreakable and masking the presence within. Wards spelled into the doorframe and across its surface made the hairs on Lucius’s arms stand on end, the magic deadly to any who attempted to break in and steal away Lucius’s prisoner.
It took several minutes to pass through his protections, but eventually the heavy door swung inward and his Lumos rushed into the dark hole. A woman was crouched in the corner. Tears streaked her face even as she held up an arm to protect eyes that had been blinded by darkness for weeks. Matted, curly black hair fell past her hips. Her naked body was marble white and unblemished except for the faint shadow of the Dark Mark on her inner left forearm. She was tall for a woman, a few inches shy of six feet, but you’d never know it the way she was curled into a ball, back pressed hard into the corner of her cell.
Dark eyes, heavy-lidded and lined with long, thick lashes blinked rapidly, her skeletal-thin arm slowly lowering. Lucius stood towering above her, watching with cold apathy as she adjusted to his presence. She bared her teeth in a death-head grin. Using the wall for support, she stood, her long hair covering most of her breasts from his view, but hid nothing else.
“Bellatrix.” Lucius said her name with cold hatred in his voice.
It was she who had stolen Draco as a baby and hidden him overseas under the Fidelius Charm. It was because of her that Draco was kidnapped by a pedophile and then sold as a sex-slave. It was because of her that the Malfoy name was in danger of dying out after nearly four hundred and fifty years of surviving a powerful Lineage Curse.
“I want my sister!” she rasped painfully, eyes glittering madly. “I want Narcissa!”
Lucius chuckled. “Three years in my dungeon, Bella, and you still think to make demands.” He stepped forward and viciously grabbed her face. She flinched back, both hands coming up to claw at his sleeve. His robes were spelled impervious, so he hardly felt it. “I promised you that your suffering would never end, sweet Bella, and I keep my word.”
He flung her away from him and her head hit the hard stone wall with a crack. Dazed she sank to the floor, leaving blood in her wake as the rough wall tore her delicate skin. Bellatrix hissed, face contorted with an animalistic rage, as she clumsily tried to pull herself back to her feet. She made it to her knees and swayed, one long-fingered hand splayed against the wall for balance.
Lucius grabbed her by her matted hair. His fingers encountered warm wetness and he grinned cruelly down at her. “You heal so nicely, Bella. Not a mark on you after our last bout of fun.” His eyes glittered a cold silver. “Not like my son, whose scars will never completely fade even with the most potent healing cream.”
“And what scars would you have left had he been left with you!” she snarled up at him, panting with mad fury. Suddenly she was laughing, wild peals that filled the cell. “A little boy who lusts after other boys! Can’t have that! It would taint the Malfoy name!”
Vision going red, Lucius hauled her up and put his hands around her throat. She made not a sound, not even able to choke he squeezed so viciously. His heart thundered in his chest, filling his ears with a repetitive booming.
She wasn’t wrong. He would have made sure Draco understood how abhorrent it was to even think of another boy in such a manor. He would have trained him perfectly to uphold his position as a Pureblood with pride and honor. Draco would have been glorious, a woman worthy of him on his arm who would produce a son made in the Malfoy image. It enraged him that Bellatrix thought what Draco had suffered was in any way better. His son had survived, he’d grown hard and powerful, but he was corrupted and flawed. To imply that the monstrous acts committed on his body were preferable…
Luicus snarled and released the woman. She collapsed unconscious, her face swollen and nearly purple, her bulging eyes vacant. With practiced ease, Lucius cast three healing spells in quick succession. It did nothing for the deep bruising that bloomed along her throat in the shape of his fingers, but it reduced the swelling and helped oxygen saturate her blood. She coughed and sputtered, slowly regaining consciousness.
“Get up,” he growled dangerously.
She was almost on her feet when he lashed out, kicking her in the stomach hard enough to fling her against the wall and bounce off, landing sprawled at his feet.
“Get up!” he bellowed, grabbing her by her hair and hauling her up.
She coughed and sputtered, arms crossed protectively over her middle. He let her go and watched impassively as she staggered and leaned against the wall. Black eyes glittered malevolently back at him.
“You’re going to make yourself useful for once, sweet Bella,” he told her with dangerous sweetness, “and help me keep the Vow I made to my son.” He reached for her with the hand that bore very faint lines just barely visible.
Bellatrix was screaming before he even touched her.
…
It had taken Lucius a week to prepare the ritual site. Lughnasadh was the first of the three harvest festivals and technically was celebrated August 1st or at least on the Sunday closest. Still, the power of the season was strong and it suited him just fine to have other pagan celebrators not in attendance. He didn’t expect company, but he’d still spent hours every night for a week laying down runes and wards to repel wizards and Muggles alike.
The moon was an hour from rising. The sky was clear, each star seeming to pierce through the black veil with almost brutal force. Lucius had created his ritual circle with pebble-sized clear quartz on top of the tallest hill in Wiltshire, referred to as Long Knoll. Dried grass had been burnt along the inner and outer edge of the ring, leaving runes dawn in ash.
Lucius walked up the hill with deliberate focus from the northern side, walking in a straight line south as best he could. Long Knoll stood two hundred and eighty-eight meters above sea level at its highest point. His circle was on a small flat shelf of green grass just near that tip, and as he crested the hill his prepared ritual site came into view.
His sister-in-law was kneeling naked, her shins pressed firmly into the ground as her butt rested on her heels. Each wrist was bound by strips of thick leather and magically welded to the ground on either side of her hips. She was placed just inside the circle at the southern point, the direction of Summer and Fire. Her hair had been tied back by another strip of leather at the base of her neck and left to hang long and tangled, pooling on the ground behind her. She was no longer cackling madly or screaming in terror and rage. She was staring up at the stars with an almost childlike wonder.
A man of about thirty years was bound in the center, arms and legs, unable to move more than his head. He had on rough linen pants, his bare chest etched with scars and muscles. His dark eyes were riveted on Lucius, hatred and fear a potent mix within them. Lucius wore identical pants and was also bare-foot and bare-chested. His long, white-blond hair had been pulled up into a bun high on his head bound with a strip of freshly tanned leather.
“Who the fuck are you?” the man spat with a distinctly American accent.
Lucius ignored him. Lughnasadh was a harvest festival, but it was also a summer one. Any spell could be worked at any point in the year if you were creative enough. All things in the universe were connected. However, there were distinct advantages to working certain types of spells in the correct season and an even further boost if you worked it on a day of Power, such as the quarter days - the Solstices and Equinoxes - and the cross-quarter days - the four festivals that sat between them: Imbolc, Beltane, Lughnasadh, and Samhain.
As a family called to the Dark, they celebrated the Darker half of the Wheel with more zeal, which so happened to begin with Mabon - the Autumn Equinox - then Samhian, Yule - the Winter Solstice - and ended with Imbolc. Lughnasadh, however, as both a harvest festival and sitting at the Summer and Autumn’s cross-quarter just so happened to be exactly what he needed.
Summer: Fire Season; it was symbolized by Sword or Flame or Wand. Its seat of power was in the South. Passion, courage, lust, creativity, fertility, virility, desire, romance, force, and enthusiasm were enhanced by the season. Spells and rituals Fire-based would be increased ten fold during summer and revolved around banishings, new beginnings, destroying the old to make way for the new, and obtaining desires. All of which, Lucius so happened to be in need of.
He stepped counterclockwise around his circle as he wished to enact an ending not a beginning and lit the torches placed at eight points around the outside of the circle. The man continued to spit threats and profanity as Lucius moved. Bellatrix continued to gaze at the stars. Once all eight were lit, the torches spread light until the circle and everything within it was clearly illuminated, but they weren’t as large as a bonfire that would draw the notice of outsiders. Lucius trusted the wards he’d placed to keep things private, but there was no sense in asking for trouble.
The quartz crystals that formed the circle glittered with white light. Directly in front of Bellatrix a piece of amber bigger than a water melon sat taller than it was wide and was vaguely shaped like the silhouette of a man. The firelight seemed to glow in the amber’s depths and the American grew quiet. Even a Muggle could sense the power gathering on the hilltop and in the stars. Lughnasadh celebrations usually began in the day under the sun, however performing the ritual at night would heighten the harvest aspect of the festival while still allowing Lucius to draw on the aspects of Summer.
He knelt before the amber and lifted his hands in supplication. “I call the circle to life in honor of the Great Mother Tailtiu who worked the soil so that it would be fertile until She died of exhaustion. I call upon Lugh, her blessed son, who fought a vicious battle with Crom Dubh, a being of blight and pestilence. I call upon Lugh who triumphed and bestowed upon the people the first harvest of grain thus ensuring the people received the Great Mother’s gift.”
He met Bellatrix’s eyes, her attention now focused solely on him. They were revealed to be a dark, ocean blue in the torchlight. He gave her a dangerous smile and stood. She moved not a muscle as he approached her, pulling a dagger from his pants. Quick as a snake, he grabbed her by her hair and cut her ponytail just above the leather tie. She sucked in a quick breath as her now short hair fell into her eyes and over her cheeks, just barely falling past her jaw.
Lucius had already turned away. Kneeling once more before the statue, he dug a shallow hole and coiled the nearly three-feet of dark black curls inside. “I make this offering to the Great Lugh, be he satisfied.”
As he buried the hair, covering it with the displaced earth, a faint hum seemed to rise from the hill itself. Lucius grinned sharply, white teeth flashing in the light. His offering had been accepted.
He stood once more and faced the man tied on the ground. “I make this offering to the Great Lugh, be he honored.”
The man yelled, terrified, as Lucius approached with the dagger in hand, but Lucius merely cut through the leather straps, freeing him. He set the knife on the ground before the Muggle. The man scrambled to his feet, eyes wild and panting.
Lucius regarded him calmly. “You cost me quite a lot of money, you know. I sent my informant out to find you nearly four years ago. They’ve been keeping tabs on you since. Then I had to pay to have you brought here as quickly as possible,” he said almost conversationally.
“I think you have the wrong guy,” the man said lowly, beginning to eye the knife.
“Do I?” Lucius asked gently and began to stalk him, making the man walk in a counterclockwise direction to avoid him. “Are you not one of the people who worked the place referred to as the Hold? I was told it was your job to make pick ups when a luckless child had been found and bodyguard duty when buyers came on board.”
Sweat gleamed on the man’s face and chest. His eyes darted frantically around the circle. He’d already discovered there was some type of invisible force keeping him inside. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”
Lucius voice hardened. “Your denials bore me.” He strode forward, making the man cower back against the invisible wall. “We both know who you are.” He bent and snatched up the dagger and very deliberately placed it in the man’s hand. “There are only two ways you’re getting out of this circle. By killing me or dying. Are you ready?”
The man lunged.
Lucius, heart thundering in his chest, knocked the man’s arm aside and shoved him from behind as he stumbled past. The thug slammed against the invisible wall and bounced off, grunting, his nose broken and bleeding. Spinning around on his knees, he bared his teeth like an animal, eyes locked on Lucius.
“You were there on that filthy boat. You even interacted with a blond child who was kept in the dark depths, a type of pet to your boss.”
The man jumped to his feet, slashing the dagger out at throat level, but Lucius leaned back and kicked him in the gut. The thug slammed once more against the barrier, this time the back of his head impacting with painful force. Groaning, the man collapsed half-unconscious on the ground.
“Brought him food on occasion, made sure he was doing his job keeping the other kids in line.” Lucius stomped brutally on the man’s hand, making him scream and release the dagger. “You may not remember his name. It was Draco.” He grabbed the worm by the hair and pulled his head back. “Draco Malfoy, actually. My son.” And he slid the blade with graceful force across the front of the man’s throat.
Choking and sputtering, the violent gush of blood slowed as the thug bled out. It was an easy death, too easy for filth like him.
Lucius tipped his head back and roared his fury to the heavens. The hum within the circle became a physical force that pressed against his skin and resonated in his core. He glanced down at the thug he’d killed and cast a wandless severing charm to remove the man’s head completely.
Gripping the man’s hair once more, Lucius lifted his trophy. Blood dripped from the neck and hit the ground with a sound like rain. Lucius placed it before the amber statue and knelt. Bellatrix sat across from him on the other side of the stone, eyes bright and cheeks flushed with lust. Her wild dark curls framed her face beautifully. Lucius felt heat pool in his groin as he stared into her eyes.
The amber was glowing with its own light now, brighter than the torches. Lucius, filled with power from the ritual, easily summoned Bellatrix’s left cuff from the ground, pulling her arm with it. She was yanked slightly forward and off balance, her right hand still held on the ground at her side. He held her wrist in place with his left hand and picked up the danger in his right.
He’d been researching how to break magical bonds for years, hoping to convince Draco to sever his tie to Harry. As soon as he’d made the Unbreakable Vow, he’d known exactly what he’d have to do, and he’d known exactly what ritual to use.
He used her Mark as the focus, basically teaching the spell what to target. Bellatrix screamed as he cut into her flesh, outlining the Dark Mark. Blood quickly coated her arm, obscuring his view, but he knew the shape by heart. He carved into her flesh, tracing the faded skull and snake again and again.
Lucius ignored her screams. Chanting in a mix of Latin and old Gaelic, he called upon the power of Summer to break bonds and destroy. He invited it to burn out the old. He called upon the Great God Lugh, the one he’d summoned and honored with sacrifices and battle, on His cross-quarter day, Lughnasadh. He asked the God to grant him this boon.
Chanting, praying, spell-weaving, Lucius swayed with the building power. Bellatrix’s arm remained pinned on the head of the brightly glowing amber statue by the ritual and leather. Her blood coated the stone, somehow not diminishing its light. She thrashed in agony as the raw, wild magic flooded her bond to the Dark Lord. In minutes, she had screamed herself hoarse.
Yelling over her, Lucius lifted the dagger from her skin and flung her arm away. Panting, adrenaline and magic nearly shaking him apart, he deliberately placed his left arm atop the blood-soaked amber statue. Calling for the God one last time, he stabbed the dagger brutally down into his Dark Mark.
It was like being struck with lightning. Pure power - red hot and searing - rushed into his body. The pain was indescribable. It whited out everything…
When he came to, the sun was beginning to rise. The statue had gone dark with Bellatrix’s and his blood drying on it. The dead-man’s head was in his line of vision, as well as Bellatrix who was slumped unconscious behind the statue.
Lucius sat up slowly. He felt strangely empty and yet had crystal clear focus. He felt the way his hair slid around his shoulders, having fallen from his bun; he was aware of the sharp smell of grass and blood; he noticed all the facets of each quartz that ringed him in; but mostly he stared at the white scar tissue on the inside of his left forearm. It looked like an abstract blob in no particular shape. The edges were spider-webbed and thin like a star burst. It was faint and only slightly raised, looking decades old.
He was alive.
He could still feel the hum of magic in his core.
The ritual had worked, and he hadn’t lost his mind or magic. His bond to the Dark Lord had been broken.
Lucius flung his head back and laughed.
…
August passed mostly uneventfully for Draco and Harry. Remus visited nearly every day and supervised their explorations into London, but baseball was over and Andromeda was withdrawn and brooding over Dora. They usually made a few visits to the Weasleys when they stayed with Andromeda, but she wasn’t feeling up to it and Molly had her hands full preparing another child for their first year at Hogwarts. Draco would have insisted, to see Percy, but come September they would be living with the older boy, so he let things be.
The boys returned to the manor to spend the last three days of August with the Malfoys. After dinner, Lucius asked them to join him in the parlor. Narcissa settled in her favorite chair. It was padded with no arms. She sat gracefully, her knees leaning to one side, her pale blue dress falling to the floor. Her back was straight, posture perfect. Her long golden blond hair sat coiled on her head. She gave a calm smile as Lucius handed her a drink of dark amber liquid.
He sat in an armchair at an angle to her own so that he could easily see the love seat the boys had chosen as well as his wife. The boys sat next to each other as was their norm. Harry, messy hair and glasses, was leaning against Draco’s shoulder, perfectly content as he listened to Draco and Narcissa talk.
Lucius took a sip of his drink, feeling smug. He knew Draco and Narcissa were aware of his mood, but they were letting him set the pace. Narcissa was telling the boys about starting Hogwarts: A History together before they left for school and the picnic she’d like to have on the lawn for lunch.
Setting his drink aside, Lucius cleared his throat. All eyes turned to him. Even Harry sat up and regarded him attentively. He gave them a slow, smug smile. “I’d like to inform you that I have successfully removed the Dark Mark.” Three sets of eyes watched with bated breath as Lucius rolled up his sleeve past his elbow, revealing the new scar.
Draco rose from the couch and padded across the room. He grabbed Lucius’s arm and stared at the slightly paler and shinier skin and then looked up into Lucius’s smug eyes. “How’s this possible?”
Narcissa felt as if time itself had stopped and she stared unblinkingly at her husband.
Harry looked up at Narcissa. The look on her face was hard to describe, but it was clear that she felt something really strongly. He turned his eyes back to Draco, who was holding Lucius’s now scarred arm and quietly demanding answers.
“I did enough research into breaking bonds,” Lucius explained. “I felt confident the ritual I had found would work.”
“Yet you told me nothing,” Narcissa said softly, voice strangely neutral.
Lucius tipped his head in acknowledgment. His smug smile melted into something more solemn. “There was nothing you could have done to help if everything went as planned, and I didn’t want you caught up in the vicinity had the magic become unstable.”
Narcissa said nothing to that, but her eyes clearly showed her dissatisfaction with that answer.
Draco released Lucius’s arm, asking curiously, “Is this because of the Vow?”
His son’s young, serious voice resonated in Lucius’s memory: “Do you swear to preserve Harry Potter’s life to the best of your ability? Do you swear to honor the bond between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy? Do you swear to work toward the complete destruction of the Dark Lord Voldemort so that he can never return?”
He had agreed to all of Draco’s terms thus the three wire-like scars that wrapped his right hand, wrist, and forearm, the Unbreakable Vow now embedded in his very core. He had not required the same of Draco. Instead, he had simply accepted the boy’s promise. Binding Draco to something that could kill him would defeat the purpose of continuing the Malfoy legacy anyway, and the honest truth was that Lucius wasn’t sure Draco was capable of truly caring about something like that. Draco’s concerns would always revolve around Harry.
“The Vow did not require this specific action,” Lucius answered gravely, meeting and holding Draco’s eyes. “However, I felt that the Dark Mark could come into conflict with the Vow in the future and thought to preempt that eventuality. I also wanted you to know I am fully on your side now, Vow or no.”
Draco gave a slow smile that bloomed into a full grin. “Good to know, and congratulations.” He turned to Harry and green eyes caught his expectantly. “Grab Pandora’s notes, please.”
“Yes, Draco,” Harry answered and immediately left the room.
Lucius frowned. “Pandora’s notes? Pandora Lovegood?”
Draco crossed his arms and smirked. “You didn’t think I didn’t have a plan, did you? Harry and I have been working on them since she died, but we don’t know that much about magic, so it’s been slow going.” His expression turned serious. “You can’t use anything you learn in these notes for anything other than destroying the Dark Lord. I want your promise.” He looked back and forth from Narcissa to Lucius. “And you can’t share them with anyone. Not even if you think they could help you figure it out. I had a vision about them. The knowledge within could destroy the world. We can’t risk it getting out.”
“I swear it,” Narcissa promised easily.
“I swear,” Lucius echoed, giving his son a firm nod.
Draco nodded back, his silky hair falling around his face.
Harry returned with a thin leather-bond tome that was taller than it was wide. The pages were uneven and stuck out at odd angles. He passed it to Draco and stood at his side patiently.
“Dobby!” Draco called, tucking his hair behind his ears. The elf appeared. “A table, please.”
The elf disappeared and then returned, both hands outspread. Lottie stood next to him and she maneuvered the parlor chairs and love seats to the walls, making room for the table Dobby had brought. It was the one from the sunroom. The one Draco and Harry studied at during their lessons with Narcissa. It was perfect.
Draco set the book down and opened it. Taking out the loose papers that he and Harry had worked on, he spread them out. “Most of this is Pandora’s theories and experiments on magical cores. Then there’s the research she gathered by other wizards and witches into the study of the soul, which is definitely different from the mind, but other than that they really don’t know much for sure. They have lots of theories, though.” Draco turned a few pages ahead and pointed to a specific section. “This is where Pandora drew several points of connection between magical cores and souls. She completed some experiment that involved wands, a brain-dead wizard who donated his body to further their research, a few Muggles, a living Squib, and some animals both magical and Muggle. Most of it Harry and I don't understand, but we do understand that she concluded that the magical core rests inside the soul. She believed them to be one-in-the-same, actually, based on her results.”
Lucius and Narcissa stared wide-eyed at the diagrams, complicated Arithmancy, runic formulas, and notes penned in a very neat, mechanical way that covered every inch of every page. Then they took in the more childish handwriting on the loose-leaf notes that the boys had been working on in secret for years. A lot of it was definitions as they tried valiantly to understand the extremely complicated notebook, but they had come up with some theories and conclusions of their own, too.
One page in particular stood out to Narcissa and she lifted it in her perfectly manicured hand. “She believed that the Dark Lord’s core is attached to Harry for the purpose of resurrection because it contains or is somehow linked to his soul. You’ve added here that it couldn’t have been purposeful, which might make it easier break.”
“Yes.” Draco nodded. “By all accounts, the Dark Lord came to Godric’s Hollow when he wasn’t supposed to have been able to. Sirius Black was the Secret Keeper. He was at the house first, but I assume he wasn’t there when whatever had happened happened. Hagrid didn’t get to the house until an hour and a half or so after whatever had happened, and Sirius Black was just exiting with a still bleeding Harry in his arms. Hagrid saw the Dark Mark in the sky, but it was fading. He saw no other Death Eaters. He heard no sounds. So if the Dark Lord came with anyone they had long ago fled. I’d love to question Sirius Black, actually.”
“What’s that have to do with Harry’s condition?” Lucius asked diplomatically.
“That it wasn’t purposefully done. The Dark Lord couldn't have intended whatever happened that night. Something went wrong. He either meant to kill Harry and it backfired in a weird way or he meant to make a full transfer, but if he meant to make a full transfer, he would have brought Death Eaters. They would have expected his body to be destroyed and would have taken Harry, thinking he was their Lord. They didn’t. Harry was left, bleeding but relatively unharmed for Sirius Black to find and remove from the house. Therefore, I can only conclude that the Dark Lord tried to kill Harry, something weird happened, and the Dark Lord was struck with something that would have killed him. Somehow a temporary bond formed and a part of the Dark Lord’s core or soul, however you want to look at it, got attached to Harry in an effort to survive.” Draco looked to the messy-haired boy at his side. “This is where Harry’s theory comes in.”
The boy blushed a bit and shifted on his feet nervously, but then he settled and lifted his eyes. He pushed his glasses up his nose. “Since the Black core is only a piece compared to mine or Draco’s that means that the bulk of the Black core is still somewhere else. If it had died, the Black in me would be more active and trying to survive. Right now it’s sleeping because the bigger part of itself is surviving, so it has no purpose, like clothes in a closet until you need it. If we can un-attach it without making it protect itself, then we could store it in a different place.” He carefully took the book and turned to a different page. “See, this is the diagram that made me think of it. See how the wand’s core surges when the wood is snapped, sometimes casting powerful, unintentional spells? It’s instinct. It knows it’s being damaged. It wants to survive, but a good wand maker is able to re-core a wand without the core reacting like that. It should be possible with me, too.”
“That supports what I saw during the experiment Pandora took me to witness,” Draco added, voice low and cold. “The Black core just… expanded and began gobbling up the magical core it was attached to to get more power, but the container couldn’t take it…” Draco swallowed down the nausea.
Narcissa and Lucius were silent for a long minute, just taking all of this information in. Eventually, she said, “So you think it’s possible to re-core the Black into another container, but there’s no one who would have experience doing such a thing without damaging Harry.”
Draco tiled his hand back and forth in a ‘sort of’ gesture. “Yes, but I think the bigger problem is making sure only the Black core is removed and not Harry’s core. We’re not sure how to separate them without the Black core seeing that separation as an attack. There are very few wand makers that can successfully work with double-cored wands. None of them are British. In fact, most of them are from India and China.”
“The answer might be here,” Harry admitted, gesturing to Pandora’s notebook. “But we don’t understand a lot of this.” Guilt laced his voice. “It’s taken this long just to get a basic understanding of what she’d found out.”
Lucius gently picked up another page of their notes. “Thank you for sharing this. We will apply ourselves to the problem and make unraveling its mysteries a priority.”
“Make a copy,” Draco ordered and placed his hand possessively over Pandora’s notebook. “We’re going to keep working on the original, and I want you to send me weekly updates.”
Lucius and Narcissa agreed, Lucius adding, “I want updates on your progress, as well.”
…
Over the next three days, Narcissa was very clingy, her sadness palpable. The boys took no lessons. Instead, they had picnics, rode horses, and spent a great deal of time talking about Pandora’s notebook and Hogwarts. They even started reading Hogwarts: A History together. The school was founded in 990 A.D., and a lot had happened there in the one thousand and one years since it had been built.
On the morning of September first, Lucius pulled Harry aside as they gathered in the receiving room in preparation of flooing to King’s Cross. The small boy wore his school robe open over an expensive white-button down tucked into tailored black slacks. If you looked closely, you’d see that the shirt’s white buttons were made from imported Arita porcelain and perfectly carved into the shape of daisies.
Harry also wore black boots that were actually a girl’s shoe. They had a two inch heel to put him at the same height as Draco with lace on the sides and back and were tall, coming above the ankle but not quiet to mid-calf. These particular shoes did not tie. Instead they buttoned closed and had one row of silk buttons on each side. Around his neck, a thin, black ribbon was tied into a loose bow and held his wide, folded over shirt-collar closed, hiding the leather collar underneath.
Harry looked back at Lucius with an open expression, black-framed glasses shielding his remarkably green eyes. His messy hair fell in a tumble over his forehead and his ears. He looked like a fine and proper gentleman with an eccentric flare due to his floral buttons and feminine shoes.
Lucius knelt. For so long he’d tried to hold himself distant from this strange child. Quiet and yet with a core of fierceness; intelligent and yet so unconfident; devoted to Draco in a way so few people were capable of being, vulnerable and yet strong; Harry Potter was a complicated mix of qualities. It was hard not to be fascinated.
“I would have felt more anxiety about Draco attending school were you not accompanying him,” Lucius told the patiently waiting child. Green eyes blinked at him and Lucius smiled. He touched Harry’s cheek gently. “I am confident you will look out for him.”
Harry gave a big, sweet smile. Surprising Lucius, he stepped forward and hugged him gently around the neck. “I’ll take are of Draco,” Harry promised with utter seriousness before pulling away.
Draco came to stand beside him, taking his hand. He met Lucius’s eyes and gave a nod of acknowledgment. Lucius returned the gesture and got to his feet, his heart pumping with surprising warmth from Harry’s affectionate gesture. He was more strongly affected by Harry’s forgiveness than he had expected to be.
Narcissa gave each boy a fierce hug, but she lingered over Draco. Her son had cut his hair, so it fell exactly to his jawline. He had tucked both sides behind his ears, but a thin piece of his bangs too short to reach had fallen to frame his face. His grey eyes were clear and alert. His school robes were fastened, but she could see the collar of his white-button up. She knew he’d closed his robes to hide the fact that he wore Muggle blue jeans. On his feet were a pair of black, high-top shoes that were mostly cloth with a rubber sole, the brand Converse stamped on the side. She smiled with affection, knowing they’d never break him of his love for Muggle fashion.
“Be careful, Draco,” she reminded her son. “Remember the consequences of being seen as deviant or dangerous, especially at this age.”
She had been determined to drill into his head the dangers of the Wizarding world discovering they were gay as well as the horrible consequences of seriously hurting or killing other children. She was certain Draco understood, but she would still worry.
“I’ll remember,” Draco promised, rolling his eyes. “It’s getting late. We should go.”
…
King’s Cross was a mess of people. For some reason Draco thought of the word gaggle. He wasn’t even sure what that word meant, but it sounded good. There was a gaggle of people. They made their way toward the end of the train and found Andromeda with Dee on her hip with Ted standing by a pillar. Ted’s whole face softened as he caught sight of his boys. Andromeda smiled, Dee reaching her little arms out toward Harry with a giggling laugh.
Harry accepted Dee in his arms. The toddler was almost half his height, but she flung her arms around his neck with clear joy and wrapped her legs around his waist.
Ted shook Draco’s hand. “Do your best,” he told the blond. “Try and make as many friends as you can. You won’t get this time back.”
“I will,” Draco said to appeasing him. Friends weren’t exactly on his to-do list.
“Learn as much as you can,” Andromeda added, kneeling and pulling Draco into a hug.
“I will,” he repeated. He turned and pulled Dee into his arms. The little girl went willingly, her dark curls soft against Draco’s cheek as she pressed her head against his.
Harry hugged both Andromeda and Ted. They gave him different advice, basically to ‘have fun’. Draco snorted in amusement. They knew that Harry always did his best and would make friends with everyone if it were up to him. Harry was also the one who enjoyed learning new things and would listen with equal attention to any lesson. Draco, on the other hand, only focused if he thought what he was learning could be useful. Once he focused, however, Draco was a very dedicated student, gobbling up as much information as he could get his hands on at an incredible rate.
“Bye, Dee,” Draco whispered into the little girl’s ear. “See you in summer.”
Harry gave her a hug while Draco was still holding her. “Love you,” he told he sweetly.
As Draco passed her back to Ted, Dee began to cry. Harry ducked his head - guilt - piercing the bond. Draco grabbed his hand firmly in his. He gave Narcissa and Lucius, who stood impassively, a wave before turning and giving a more casual salute to Andromeda and Ted.
“We’ll write,” he told all four of them and tugged Harry toward the train.
Their two school trunks followed them, Hedwig’s cage secured on Harry’s trunk. Lucius had spelled them weightless and added a magical tether. Once they were on board, they only had to tap them with their new wands to cancel both spells.
Most of the children and teens around them were loud and jostling each other. Parents were yelling out comments and commands. Laughter rose in bursts above it all. Draco cut through them with single-minded purpose, moving toward one of the doors of the train. He’d written Percy very specific instructions. Basically whichever of them arrived on the train first was to secure an empty compartment toward the back.
Through the open compartment doors, Draco could see kids getting settled on the two benches facing each other and lifting their trunks into the netting above. Draco continued down the wood-paneled, narrow walkway, often having to press himself flat to a wall so other kids could pass.
The third to the very last compartment was empty. Draco left Harry there to stand guard and checked the last two on either side. There were kids in all of them with no sign of Percy. Draco turned back, shoving his floating trunk upward to duck under it, and hurried inside the empty compartment Harry was defending.
A girl about fourteen or so was saying something about she and her friends usually using this compartment. Draco put his hand on her arm and gently applied pressure, causing her to step to the side, and planted himself next to Harry in the doorway and looked up at her with a polite smile.
“Sorry for taking your usual spot, but we’re new and promised our friends we’d save them seats. We’re all kind of nervous and promised each other we’d stick together. They won’t be able to find us if we leave this compartment and there’s six of us.” He’d already assessed that these compartments would only hold about six students comfortably, so his lie made it clear he couldn’t ‘share’. “If you let us use it this year, I promise we’ll make it up to you.”
By this point, another girl had joined the first and they had realized who Draco and Harry were. They agreed instantly and wished them a good ride with their friends. Giggling, they moved off. As Draco remained in the doorway giving his spiel to whomever tried to enter - only two more groups of students, all of which went away as easily as the first two girls had - Harry busied himself with their trunks.
Clever boy that he was, he decided to push and shove the floating trunks into the netting before tapping them with his wand and canceling the spells. He had to stand on the bench seats to do it, but eventually he got them in place. They were too heavy for him to lift without the spells. Hedwig’s cage he settled safely on the floor under the window.
A loud whistle pierced the air and the volume of voices outside the train increased. Draco looked out the window at the surging crowd of families and late students and, when he turned back, Percy stood in front of him. Draco gave a smile and stood aside, letting the redhead into their compartment.
Percy looked a lot different from the eleven-year-old boy they had first met. Now, Percy had just turned fifteen last month and stood at five feet seven inches. He was still thin but with wider shoulders. His eyes were the same brown, however he now wore glasses. They were black and cat-eyed shaped and horned-rimmed. His hair was nearly the same, cut short in the back and longer at the front, letting the tight curls spill over his forehead.
“Percy,” Draco said in welcome as the older teen shut the compartment door behind them.
“Draco,” Percy replied, tone formal and stuffy.
Draco smiled, amused. Percy could act all high-and-mighty with everyone else but them. They had seen Percy at his lowest and their relationship required them to be honest and intimate with each other.
“How are you?” Draco asked, patiently waiting for Percy to get comfortable.
The redhead took out his wand and cast the few locking and warding spells that he knew at the door. He turned back to the two eleven-year-olds and pushed his glasses up his nose. “I’m well, thank you.”
“We’re going to have to keep our eye on Pucey and his group,” Draco said, taking a seat next to Harry. “He’s already made some comments while we were getting fitted for school robes.”
Percy nodded and added, “His group consists of about twelve in Slytherin from various year groups Third-year and above with a few hanger-ons that change. There are a few in Ravenclaw who have also said some things that make me think they’re Dark sympathizers as well.”
Draco nodded, Percy had already told him as much in his owled reports.
The seats in the compartment were comfortable with padded benches and a slightly curved padded back. The window was small, but allowed them to see the platform outside. Another whistle blew, followed by three quick bursts. The train lurched forward. Parents stood waving as they train very slowly pulled out of the station. Soon bright sunlight came streaming into the window and the buildings of London began to pass by. The train gathered speed with another loud, long whistle blowing.
Draco returned his attention to Percy. The teen was staring pensively out the window. “No one’s bothered you at night?”
Percy turned his eyes to Draco. “No.” There was relief in his voice as well as gratitude. “The snake still works.”
“How faded is it?” Draco stood and crossed the narrow space between them.
Percy carefully lifted his glasses from his face and set them on the seat next to him. He turned sideways, facing the door instead of the window and pulled his red button-down from his slacks. He leaned forward, exposing his lower back.
A faded red snake lay curled in a ball with its triangular head resting on its top coil. There was no movement, looking like a decades old Muggle tattoo. Draco lightly ran his fingers over it, noticing how it was too faded to see the distinct scales anymore. He could barely sense his magic. It was definitely time to renew it.
Percy had his head bowed forward with unconscious submission as Draco examined him. Warmth bloomed in Draco’s stomach and he stroked the tattoo again, this time in approval. “Are you ready?” he asked softly.
Percy nodded, but he knew that wouldn’t be enough.
Draco used his thumb nail to trace the outline of the snake. “Are you ready, Percy?” he asked again, always demanding a verbal answer.
“Yes. I’m ready,” Percy whispered.
“Make sure the compartment is locked tight. Take your shirt off and get on your knees. Bend over the seat.” Draco’s eyes flashed to Harry as Percy moved to obey. “I want you ready and sitting on the bench next to him. Leave your boots on and hook your heels on the edge of the seat. Spread your thighs.”
Percy had flushed red, but he was soon naked to the waist with his pants unbuttoned so that they barely covered his butt. He buried his head into his folded arms and waited. Draco’s attention was on Harry, however.
The slender boy had slipped out of his robe, untied his tie and unbuttoned his white shirt. He then shimmied out of his pants completely. Draco had seen him dress that morning, but the image of Harry in thigh-high, black silk socks and black high-heeled lace boots still took his breath away. It made Harry’s legs look like they went on for days and Draco had the urge to lick the line where silk ended and flesh began.
Harry set his back against the padded wall of the compartment and set his heels at the edge of the seat as Draco had ordered. Then he spread his thin, pale thighs, exposing himself completely, his knees bent and held next to his chest by his arms. Percy was directly next to him, his chest flat on the seat, his side touching Harry’s booted foot. A white-silver dragon with blue highlights on each tiny scale was inked with incredible detail into the skin on Harry’s right side. The tattoo was Draco’s claim on Harry, telling the world the boy belonged to him.
It was about four inches long and three tall. It had tiny silver scales along its triangular snake-like head that doubled in size above the cat-like eyes to form two crests that rose off the back of its head. Larger scales also pointed outward along its back and long tail, reminding Draco of Harry's messy hair somehow. Probably because the scales weren't in orderly roes but slightly jumbled and almost lying flat. Like Percy's tattoo it was growing slowly larger and longer over time.
Two white-silver leathery wings curled upward like a bat's. It had four scaled paws with three, multi-jointed talons on each foot. Its body was muscular and round, also like a cat's. There were hints of blue in the shadows of the scales and wings, but mostly the dragon was a pure silver-white. Its eyes, sitting on the sides of its rounded face, were a deep, dark green - the color of Draco's magic - only a shade or two darker than Harry's eyes, which were pale emerald in color.
The dragon’s wings were spread, the head arching in a sensual line as Draco watched. Its tail dropped to curl in a loose spiral on Harry’s lower stomach just above the boy’s groin. Draco knelt between Harry’s spread legs. He licked at the dragon’s tail, causing it to curl more tightly and Harry’s member to stiffen.
Humming, Draco reverently put his lips to the top of the silk stocking and licked and sucked at them, soaking the material and wetting Harry’s inner thigh with his spit. He was obsessed with that transition from silk to skin, had been from the very beginning when his boy began wearing them.
Harry moaned quietly, his head falling back to rest against the wall, pink lips parting sensually. Pleasure desire submission - pooled through the bond like warm syrup, increasing Draco’s own desire ten-fold.
As Draco bit down on Harry’s silk-covered thigh, the boy arched in a beautiful line, thighs spreading impossibly wider. The sounds of Harry softly panting breaths filled the compartment and Percy groaned into his arms. Draco used his palm to press firmly against Harry’s penis, pressing it against his lower stomach. His thumb caressed the juncture of his groin and thigh, making Harry shiver.
Draco turned his attention to Percy. He reached forward with his dominate left hand and scratched gently at the faded tattoo. Percy’s hips involuntarily rocked against he bench seat. Draco smiled wolfishly and asked again, voice husky, “You ready?”
Percy pressed is forehead into the seat and tilted this head down so that his mouth was clear. “Yes!” he stated firmly, sweating and wanting to get this over with.
Draco took his hands off both boys and unfastened his school robe, letting it hang open. He unlatched his pants and bent forward to lick a hot line up Harry’s small, hard shaft. Harry bit his lip hard, a muffled whine escaping his throat as shocks of almost painful pleasure burst through him.
Draco, all silver-eyed and focused, stood and pressed their groins together. The blond rolled his hips sensually, the heat of the pressure making Harry’s nipples hard while the sting of the dry friction made him gasp. He watched through dazed eyes as Draco bit into his palm.
Draco’s magic filled the compartment with a deadly energy and his teeth sank into his skin like butter. The smell of hot, fresh blood saturated the air instantly. Draco reached over and pressed his bleeding hand against Percy’s tattoo. He pressed against the teen’s back in a rhythmic pattern, forcing the older teen’s hips to rock against the seat. Percy groaned and picked up the rhythm voluntarily. Draco grinned, sharp and bright as he watched the boy work toward his own pleasure.
* This one is mine, * he thought fiercely and his magic responded. Blood and magic absorbed into the snake. Slowly, it began to gain more color and life, recharging with Draco’s power.
During the course of Percy’s first year at Hogwarts, someone had been molesting him at night, holding him down and taking their pleasure from his unwilling body. Draco had been furious; furious that Hogwarts wasn’t safe, furious that kids were being raped. He’d claimed Percy and put his protecting mark on him, turning him into his spy at Hogwarts.
Percy was writhing against the bench seat now, his head flung back, sweat darkening his hair and rolling down his extended throat. His face was slack with pleasure as Draco’s hot magic poured into him, reasserting his claim and protection. The promise of that absolute safety nearly brought Percy over the edge. He was grunting now, mouth working at the air as he teetered at the edge.
Draco’s face went pale as he lost a dangerous amount of power. His head dropped forward just close enough that Harry could lick in quick desperate jabs with the very tip of his tongue at his blood-smeared chin. The taste of Draco’s blood was intoxicating, and as Draco continued to rock against him pushing pain and pleasure through his entire body, Harry’s magic began to rise, catching and matching Draco’s power, bolstering it.
Draco’s eyes brightened as Harry’s magic joined his. His thrusting hips picked up speed, energy rushing through him. Percy came with a choked cry, his body going rigid before collapsing limply forward into his own mess. Draco ripped his bleeding hand away and shoved it toward Harry’s hungry mouth. Harry latched on as if he were starving and sucked and licked at the deep bite.
Draco groaned as Harry’s healing magic pierced through him with sharp stabs of pleasure that went straight to his core. He tore his hand away and grabbed Harry’s thighs, pulling the boy’s heels and butt off the edge of the seat. He bent over the smaller boy and rutted against him in earnest.
Harry’s long legs and feet bounced as Draco thrust against his body. The magic tightened like a spring, green eyes glowed to match Draco’s silver, and then they came together, bodies tightening and Draco’s hips pressing in with bruising force.
Harry’s mind went blank as his toes curled. Draco collapsed to his knees, sliding down Harry’s sweat-soaked chest and resting his head in the boy’s damp lap. They panted and gasped, trying to get their wind back. Percy was just beginning to sit back on his knees, cheeks a furious red as he looked at the mess smeared across the seat, his stomach, and groin.
Draco slid off of Harry and sat with his back to the seat. He didn’t bother trying to do up his pants or cover himself. His whole body tingled with the aftermath of their orgasm and sex magic. He slapped at the outside of Harry’s thigh.
Harry obediently sat up and sank to his knees on the floor. He put his mouth to the heated skin of Percy's lower stomach, making the redhead’s blush cover his entire face. Satisfaction pleasure - thrummed through him, knowing he was being useful. He quickly licked Percy clean, the teen covering his eyes and holding tensely still. Then he turned his face to the seat and began to suck the mess off the upholstery.
Draco watched his boy with a contented smile curling his lips. Harry’s happiness filled him with sunlight. Seeing Harry bent over, his white shirt falling just short of the bottom of his butt cheeks, his thighs encased in silk socks and wearing heels as he sucked Percy’s cum from the seats made him feel incredibly hot. He’d never get enough of Harry.
“That’s enough. My turn,” he said roughly.
He grabbed hold of Harry’s hair as the boy turned and happily descended on his lap, licking and sucking Draco clean of the small amount of clear fluid that he’d ejaculated. Draco tugged hard on Harry’s hair, bringing the boy’s mouth to his face where some of Harry’s cum had smeared across Draco’s cheek.
As Harry’s hot, wet tongue ran over his skin again and again, Draco turned his head and captured Harry’s mouth in a deep and nearly violent kiss. Draco’s tongue scoured every inch of the inside of Harry’s mouth, stealing the taste.
Percy, heart slowly calming, pulled his shirt on and fastened his pants. Languidly, he watched the two boys make-out. The passion in their eyes and mouths was undeniable. It made him think of a particular Ravenclaw girl in his year.
As Harry sat back, straddling Draco’s waist, a thin line of spit connecting their swollen mouths, Percy announced, “I’ve been exchanging letters with a girl. If I… if we…” He gestured at Draco and Harry meaningfully. “Do you think the tattoo will hurt her?”
Draco pushed at Harry, making the boy climb to his feet. He accepted Harry’s hand and stood. “Turn around. Lift your shirt.”
Percy faced the window this time and bent forward, lifting his shirt and exposing the now bright red snake with each tiny scale etched in perfect detail fading from blood red to almost black along each edge. It peered at them through yellow-green eyes at the small of Percy’s back. It was half the size of Draco's clenched fist when curled up and about seven inches long when stretched out. It was growing with Percy, gaining about an inch every year they recharged it.
Draco fastened his pants and sat heavily on the seat as Harry hissed at the tattoo.
“Your host wants to find a mate. Will you know the difference between his mate and the man who hurt him?” Harry asked the blood snake. He stood in his open dress shirt, stockings, and shoes, but he didn’t feel self-conscious. For too many years Draco and he had gone with little to no clothes, so nudity didn’t bother them.
The snake titled its ruby head curiously.
“Do you know when your host is scared or upset?” Harry asked in a different way.
This time the snake nodded.
“A short time ago your host was feeling good and had some of his clothes off. Did you want to bite?”
The snake flexed his neck in pleasure and shook his head.
“That’s right. Do not bite unless your host is scared or hurt, okay? When people come against him and take his clothes off and your host feels good, do not hurt them.”
The snake nodded again and yawned before curling up and resting its head on its red coils to go to sleep.
Harry smiled as Percy turned around and sat normally on the seat. Harry told him what he’d discussed with the snake and Percy smiled in relief.
“Thank you,” Percy said, voice soft and sincere. He carefully kept his eyes away from Harry’s mostly naked body.
Draco smirked, smug satisfaction radiating from him, as he pulled Harry in close to his side.
Chapter end.
- 63
- 64
- 65
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Freedom Bound in Chains