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
- 68
- 69
- 70
Quidditch, Potions, Hagrid, and Blood
Quidditch, it honestly baffled Draco. All this effort with Chasers trying to get the quaffle through these little hoops guarded by a Keeper while also dodging vicious Beaters hitting bludgers… and it didn’t matter a whit in the end. It all came down to a one hundred and fifty point snitch.
Draco had no idea why the other players tried as hard as they did since they were essentially irrelevant. In his view, they should eliminate goals and the other players completely. Quidditch was clearly all about the Seekers. And Harry was a Seeker. So much pressure on that one crucial player. Draco would have to keep a close watch. If it became too much, he would remove Harry from the game - Gryffindor be damned.
After explaining the rules, Wood asked Draco to fly against Harry, since he was there, so that he could get a sense of Harry’s skills. “Not that I’m doubting McGonagall!” It was a beautiful morning, perfect for flying, so Draco agreed. The air was cool and crisp, the sun rising slowly over the mountain ridge. The grass sparkled with dew.
“Ready, Harry?” Draco asked seriously. He looked into Harry’s eyes and ordered, “Do your best.”
Harry gave a firm nod.
When they had first started learning fencing from Narcissa, he’d been hesitant to strike at Draco. But Draco had gotten angry and grabbed Harry by the shirt and ordered him to try and beat him. Harry had obeyed.
It had been four years since then. Four years of study under a very skilled teacher in Narcissa and they had grown quite good.
They kicked off the ground at the same time, their broom soaring into the air. The golden ball darted to the side and they shot after it like arrows, their shoulders colliding together. Harry pushed against Draco before rolling under him just as the snitch dove. Harry was in the lead now, rushing toward the grass, the wind streaking past his outstretched hand…
Draco swooped in at an angle, knocking Harry’s hand aside as he flew past. The snitch zipping back into the sky. Harry almost flew off his broom as he flipped tip to tail too quickly, just barely saving himself from a painful crash. He rocketed into the sky, chasing the end of Draco’s broom and their golden target.
Their hands darted in quick jabs and snatches as they spiraled around each other. They moved instinctively with the broom underneath them, trusting it to keep up. Harry came up from under Draco and knocked him sideways only for Draco to come down on him from above like a swooping bird. Harry grunted with the impact and dropped several feet.
His heart thundered in his chest. His thighs trembled, his hands shook. Sweat blinded him and he blinked rapidly to clear his vision. Fatigue was setting in, but he knew Draco had to be nearing his breaking point, too. He dove and then arched back into the air like a shooting star, aiming for the snitch. Draco was coming at it from above. They were going to collide.
“I need to get better, Harry!” Draco’s young voice from memory cried, full of angry passion. “Come at me with everything you’ve got!”
Harry lay flat, milking the broom for every ounce of speed it possessed. He reached out past the handle. He could almost reach… Draco racing closer! They were about to crash… Harry’s closed around the ball a millisecond before Draco’s and they slammed painfully together. The blond had opened his arms, catching Harry and cushioning the impact as much as he could. Their brooms locked together and they began to spiral down, dropping at terrifying speed.
Draco grabbed tight to Harry’s broomstick, held even tighter to Harry’s body, and leaned back. They decelerated too slowly, the ground rushed up. Draco yelled, “Jump!”
They tumbled across the grass, panting for breath. Harry turned his head to look at the blond, grinning. Draco gasped for air and slowly smiled, then he began to laugh, Harry joining in until they were nearly crying.
“Holy shit,” Draco panted. “That was crazy!”
Wood finally reached them, running across the pitch. Whooping, he jumped into the air, his fist high over head as he pumped it. “That was incredible flying!” he cried and helped the boys get back on their feet. He clapped Draco on the shoulder a few times before turning to Harry with a huge smile.
“Great catch, Potter! We’re not going to lose a game with you after the snitch!” Looking back at Draco with a greedy gleam in his eye, he asked enticingly, “Fancy being our reserve Seeker?”
Draco’s blond hair was a mess, almost as wild as Harry’s with grass tangled it in from the tumble they’d taken upon landing. His cheeks were red and his eyes shone with an inner light fueled by Harry’s - exhilaration. “I don’t want to get behind in my studies,” he lied, still panting. He really wanted time to stalk Quirrell.
“You won’t have to make every practice. Just one a week,” Wood negotiated. He put his hands together and actually begged. “Say you’ll do it. Please?”
“I’ll think about it,” Draco allowed and Harry gave him a happy grin. Battling over the snitch had been too fun.
…
Herbology was their first class of the day and was taken inside the greenhouses built on the east side of the castle. Two rows of tables were set end to end so that the students were in two lines. Their professor, a short, chubby witch with grey curly hair and a cheerful disposition told them excitedly about the things they would learn.
Draco paid her only half of his attention. He’d made sure to take the table next to Hermione and Neville. Last night, Neville and told them that the healer was able to heal his broken wrist, but from the way he moved Draco had been able to tell it still ached.
Draco’s worry was misplaced, however, because Hermione made sure Neville didn’t do anything that would strain the injury. Hermione was abrupt and bossy, but she took care of Neville and it was clear the boy appreciated it. She gave Draco a confused look when he smiled at her after class.
History of Magic turned out to be a surprise. They were being taught by Professor Binns, an actual ghost. Draco was impressed. To have access to a first-hand account of history was really amazing. The only problem was that listening to the voice of a ghost for long periods was difficult and tended to put them to sleep. Draco made a note for Harry to find a spell or remedy that would help them stay focused.
Lunch arrived and again Quirrell didn’t show. Draco considered checking it out, but he didn’t want to be too obvious. He’d wait for Percy to get him some information first. It worked out anyway because halfway through the meal Hedwig swooped in on graceful, silent wings to deliver them a letter.
“Who’s it from?” Ron asked, mouth full of sandwich.
“Hagrid,” Harry told him with a smile. “It’s an invite to tea tomorrow. He heard we had a free period after lunch. Can we go?” he asked, turning to Draco.
“Sure.” Draco ruffled the boy’s hair. The soft-hearted man was always a good source of information and Draco was curious why Hagrid wanted to speak to them.
…
After lunch, they had Charms Theory and Magical Theory with the Ravenclaws. Already classes were challenging. In Charms, they had to memorize the seventeen fundamental wand movements and be able to perform them perfectly by next week. In Magical Theory, they had to take notes on the six main aspects of magic. They were to do further research for homework and write an informative essay.
Professor Sophos, a witch in her sixties with wildly curly, silver-streaked black hair and a greek accent, had oh so kindly given them an essay formula to follow. The formula itself was a challenge, let alone the essay topic! Introduction consisting of hook, background, and thesis. Body paragraphs consisting of transition, facts, sources, and analysis. Finally, a conclusion paragraph with transition, summary, and a restating of the now validated thesis.
Draco had to admit it was overwhelming. He looked at the loose parchment they had folded and tucked into their bags with their class notes and frowned.
“We need notebooks,” Harry said softly, guessing what Draco wanted. “It’ll be easier to stay organized.”
“We’ll need at least a dozen of them,” Draco agreed, hooking his bangs back behind his ears as he looked up at Harry. “We’ll add it to Remus’s letter. He can get us what we need.”
On their way back up to the tower from dinner, Percy snagged Draco’s sleeve.
At Draco’s signal, Harry turned to Ron with a distraction. “Did you bring your Wizarding Chess set?”
Ron perked up. “Yeah. Why?”
“I’d like to try again,” Harry told him, making a determined face.
Ron grinned excitedly. “I’ll go get it.”
“How’s Wizarding Chess different from the Muggle kind?” Hermione asked curiously.
“The rules aren’t different,” Neville assured her.
“But I bet Muggle Chess doesn’t bash each other in,” Seamus said excitedly.
Draco and Percy had slipped away from the group unnoticed a floor below the Gryffindor portrait. There was a room that was used mostly for the random couple who wanted to snog and sometimes studying away from the loud common room, but tonight it stood empty. Draco hopped up onto the desk positioned by a window.
Percy pulled the desk chair out and sat in front of him. Draco propped his feet up on the side of the seat, caging Percy’s thighs in between his Converse. Percy handed him a parchment. Draco unfolded it and pressed it open on his lap.
“His class schedule as well as the location of his personal chambers,” Percy explained. “Apparently he had a run in with some vampires and barely survived before taking the position here. He’s paranoid and scared of his own shadow. I can’t really see him as a threat. Not to mention the curse on the Defense position. For decades Defense teachers have only lasted a year here. Something always makes them go. There’s already bets among the upper years that Quirrell won’t make it past Yule. That vampires will come and get him.”
Draco nodded absently, his attention on the map.
“What exactly do you think he’s up to?” Percy asked curiously.
“I don’t know.” Draco looked up and met the teen’s concerned brown eyes. “Keep your ears open for any rumors.”
Percy pushed his glasses up his nose, confused by the boy’s insistence. “He really does seem useless.”
Draco said nothing to that, his attention back on the schedule and map the redhead had given him.
Percy sighed, changing the subject. “Silvanus Rahl and his gang are still muttering about you being in Gryffindor. The twins have a prank lined up, but there’s no telling how they’ll take it. They hate all things Slytherin, Rahl especially. Lost his father, grandfather, and uncle to Death Eaters. His dorm mates follows his every word. Be careful. They can be dangerous.”
Draco nodded. “Thanks for the heads up. Who should I look out for?
“Rahl’s the one who had you up against the wall. His second in command is Fergus Dougal, dark red hair, pale. They room with Abdul Virk, Archibald Mago, and Eric Greythorne and they are more like lackeys. They’re all Sixth years and want to be some big shot Aurors when they graduate. They’re the best duelers in the House.”
“I’ll be careful,” Draco promised.
“I’ll help as much as I can, but I have a feeling Rahl has something personal against the Malfoys. He’ll be a hard one to stop.” Percy ran a hand through his short curly hair. “Good news is next year is his last.”
Draco smiled wryly. A lot could happen in two years. “Good news,” he echoed.
Percy lifted Draco’s foot and slid out from under it before placing it back on the seat. “I’ll head back. Wait a few minutes and then come after me.”
“How’s your girl?” Draco asked curiously. “Your snake didn’t hurt her?”
The teen flushed red. “No. It was fine,” Percy answered shyly and slipped out of the room.
Draco grinned.
…
The next morning was Saturday. They got dressed quickly and went up to the Owlery. Harry pet and stroked Hedwig's spotted white feathers for several minutes before tying the letters they had written to her leg. Hedwig took off silently into the dawn and the boys tucked themselves up on a window ledge to work some more on Pandora’s notes.
No one would bother them up here so early in the morning and the break was sorely needed. Draco especially was struggling with the constant and abrasive multitude always surrounding them, always watching, moving in ways that Draco couldn’t always predict or control. It put a lot more stress on him than he anticipated.
He’d gone from the Hold, which was an extremely controlled environment, to Liam - where Draco was given a lot of control and privacy - to the Malfoys, who were almost as controlled and rigid as the Hold. The Tonks were a bit more flexible and chaotic, but even they were pretty self-contained. They didn’t socialize with others much (except for with the Weasleys and on holidays) and mostly let the boys do as they wished as long as they had supervision.
Harry was aware of the tension. He sat across from Draco in the same window, their legs brushing. He reached forward and gently touched Draco’s knee. “Please?”
Draco looked up from the notes, distracted and frowning. “What?”
Harry lowered his head submissively, hands folded in his lap. “Please?” he asked again, softly.
Draco smiled, his shoulders relaxing as - devotion compassion - pulsed warmly through the bond. “Yes,” he said and turned so that he was sitting in the middle of the window, his back to Harry. He crooked one leg to set Pandora’s notes on top and set his other foot on the ground for balance.
Harry slid his fingers into Draco’s hair and caressed the blond’s scalp. Closing his eyes on a sigh, Harry gently pressed his thumbs into Draco’s neck. The warmth from his core trickled up and soaked into Draco’s skin and muscle.
Draco sighed in pleasure and began to read out loud so Harry could follow along. Soft groans escaped him every other sentence, making Harry smile, happy he was making Draco feel good. Draco took notes on what he thought a passage meant, adding Harry’s ideas. Harry’s hands continued to knead and press all the tension from Draco’s back and shoulders.
…
They walked into breakfast a little late, just as Rahl and his gang were storming out. Their hair had been turned into huge coarse balls of red and gold cotton and on the back of their robes in huge gold lettering it read, I’m a Gryffindor Bully.
Rahl’s blue eyes were bright with fury when he spotted Draco and Harry. He was still within sight of the Great Hall doors, so he couldn’t do much, but he did bump Draco’s shoulder hard enough to make the boy stagger.
“Out of my way, you fucking snake,” he hissed in a low, threatening voice.
Draco stared after them, eyes cold.
Harry pulled him forward by the hand Draco held. “Breakfast is over soon,” he said softly - concerned.
Draco silently followed Harry to their table that had become a weird mesh of First and Third years. All the First year boys, plus Hermione, and then the Third year twins and their best friends Lee Jordan, Angelina Johnson, and Alicia Spinnet. The twins were beaming triumphantly and the rest of the group was snickering and laughing. Only Hermione seemed to disapprove while Neville looked nervous.
Draco and Harry took their spot between the twins and Hermione and Neville. Dean, Seamus, and Ron sat across from them with Lee and the girls across from the twins.
“Not sure that’s going to make him back off,” Draco admitted as he served himself some eggs.
“If they don’t learn their lesson,” George began.
Fred grinned evilly. “The pranks will only get worse.”
…
“Blood-traitor,” Nott hissed hatefully as Draco entered the Potions’ classroom.
Draco decided to ignore him. Instead, he took notice of the single station that had been placed at the front of the classroom on the Gryffindor’s side of the room. Draco hefted his bag higher on his shoulder and pushed Harry toward Ron. Harry knew better than to argue, especially with the mood Draco was in.
Draco made his way down the aisle and stopped at the single desk. Hermione and Neville sat behind him and Neville gave him a worried look. Draco left it to Hermione to reassure him.
Today was their scheduled potions practical and Draco began to set up his cauldron and equipment with the rest of the class. He’d just finished when Snape stormed in, slammed the classroom door behind him with a loud bang that made everyone jump, and took up a position by the blackboard. He looked furious.
“On the board you will see instructions for brewing the most basic of potions, the Boil Cure.” Snape’s dark eyes raked the class. “It can also be found in your textbooks on page thirty-three. Begin.”
Draco’s eyes widened fractionally. This was only their second Potions class. Was that really all the instruction they’d be given? He scowled and looked at the board as Harry’s - anxiety - scratched at him.
In almost indecipherable calligraphy, the board read: Add crushed snake fangs to your cauldron and stir. Slice your Pungous Onions finely and place in the cauldron, then heat the mixture. Add dried nettles. Add a dash of Flobberworm mucus and stir vigorously. Add a sprinkle of powdered ginger root and stir vigorously again. Add picked Shrake spines. Stir gently so as not to overexcite the Shrake spines. Add a glug of stewed horned slugs. Add porcupine quills. Finally, wave your wand over the cauldron to finish the potion.
Draco opened his textbook. The recipe on page thirty-three was slightly longer with more detail. His glare deepened. Which were they supposed to follow?
“Sir…” Hermione’s voice drew Draco’s attention and he looked up to see that the girl had her hand in the air.
“If I wished to speak to you, Miss Granger, I would have called on you. Now begin. If I have to tell you again, I will be taking points.” Snape’s cold, disdainful voice was cutting.
“I noticed the recipe on the board…” Hermione continued hesitantly.
“Ten points from Gryffindor,” Snape drawled, staring her down.
Lavender and Parvati, sitting behind Hermione and Neville, hissed at her to be quiet.
Draco gave Snape a disgusted look. He pointedly chose to use the book recipe instead of Snape’s, not trusting that bastard for a second.
Snape stalked the Gryffindor side of the room, breathing down their necks, making them nervous. He bit out sarcastic comments like, “You call that a fine powder, Mr. Finnegan?” “So skilled are we, Potter, that you don’t have to check the exact temperature of your flames?” “You do have a timer in your kit, Miss Brown, do you not?” “Silence, Miss Granger, no talking in my class if don’t want your mouth magical sewn shut!”
They were almost done, only ten minutes to go, when Hermione cried out, “Wait, Neville!”
Draco turned to face them, his eyes widening as his startled roommate dropped the porcupine quills into a cauldron that still sat on the flame.
The explosion knocked Hermione and Neville back into Lavender and Parvati’s table, making their cauldron clatter to the floor, splashing their ankles with boiling hot potion. Draco was flung back into his own cauldron and it tipped forward, spilling all down his back.
Pain whited everything out. He locked his teeth, grunting, as he crawled blindly forward only to hold himself rigidly still, exerting all his self-control to clamp down on useless instinct. There would be no escaping the searing pain. There was no point in trying to flee. He had to be still and endure.
“You stupid boy!” Snape bellowed.
Kneeling next to Draco, he took in the smoking school robes of Draco’s hunched back and internally winced. He had no idea how the boy wasn’t screaming or unconscious. A quick swish of his wand vanished the robe, shirt, and tie. Red and angrily blistering skin covered Draco’s shoulders and down his spine, but it did nothing to conceal the most horrific scarring Snape had ever seen.
Hermione gasped, her hands covering her mouth in horror.
Draco trembled, on his hands and knees, his head hanging with his white-blond hair curtaining his face, but Snape could see the pain-tensed jaw of gritted teeth.
“Bottle your potions, clean up your stations, and GET OUT!” Snape screamed. Harry and Ron had appeared at Draco’s side. “You two! Get him out of here! Straight to the Infirmary! Brown, Patil, cease your caterwauling and go with them!”
Ron and Harry didn’t have to be told twice. They each got underneath one of Draco’s arms and helped him to his feet. Lavender and Parvati held hands, leaning on each other as they limped after the boys, crying in pain over their burnt ankles.
Draco hissed as they started climbing the stairs, head hanging, clearly in agony. Ron looked pale as a ghost, the smell of potion and burnt skin mixing in his nose. “Bloody hell,” he whispered.
…
Ron and Harry were forced to wait in the waiting room, but Lavender and Parvati were admitted into the Infirmary with Draco. Later that night the girls returned to the tower and told tales of gruesomely burnt skin that had been hardened and peeled from Draco’s back. Draco hadn’t screamed once and stayed conscious for the entire treatment. The story spread like fire.
…
Ron and Harry missed Herbology and lunch as they sat quietly outside the Infirmary. Healer Pomfrey finally let them come and see their friend, but she was visibly disapproving and told them that their visit would be short: “Sleep is essential for healing, but he insists on seeing you, Mr. Potter.” Harry barely heard her. He rushed forward, desperate to be back where he belonged. At Draco’s side.
Harry knelt on the floor by the bed so that Draco, who’d been placed on his stomach, could see him without straining his neck. Ron hung back, staring at the white bandages that covered Draco from shoulders to waist. At least that terrible scarring was covered.
“Draco…” Harry breathed - love concern - pouring down the bond.
Grey eyes blinked at him and he gave a smile. “Harry. I’m okay. Pomfrey said I’ll be outta here by breakfast tomorrow.”
Harry tearfully held his hand. “Please?”
“No,” Draco refused him gently. “No. I’m fine. Maybe get sympathy points.”
Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat. “Alright, boys. Time to go. Mr. Malfoy needs his rest,” she insisted.
Harry looked up at her in confusion. “Go?”
The potion Draco had been fighting was going to win the battle and pull him under soon. It made him crazy to know Harry would be out of his sight for a whole afternoon and night, but the fucking nurse made it clear his boy wouldn’t be allowed to stay. Fuck.
Doing his best to focus, he looked into Harry’s distressed eyes. “Meet Hagrid. Tell me what he has to say,” he ordered softly, eyes closing. “Stay away from Quirrell. You get a headache, you go the other way ’til it’s gone. Hard rule.” A sliver of grey could be seen between long blond lashes. “Harry, stay with the Weasleys. Never… be alone…” The grey disappeared, Draco’s eyes closing as he slipped into a potioned sleep.
“Yes, Draco,” Harry whispered, holding tight to Draco’s hand.
“The boy needs undisturbed rest,” Pomfrey scolded softly. “Off with you now. You’ll see your friend in the morning perfectly recovered. There’s no need for all this fuss.”
Ron felt a pang as Harry’s head hung and his shoulders hunched. He knew how upset Harry must be. Ron had rarely ever seen them separated for more than a few minutes at a time. It was a strange concept. They were like a packaged deal. Like Fred and George. In fact, he was having a hard time picturing Harry getting up and leaving Draco’s side, orders be damned, and he braced himself to pull his friend away, but Harry did. He got to his feet and gave Ron a smile that trembled a bit at the edges.
“Will you come with me to see Hagrid?” he asked quietly, clearly trying to be brave.
“Yeah,” Ron answered, chest tight. “Course I will.”
He offered his hand, blushing, but he knew he’d done the right thing when Harry gave him a truly grateful smile as he took it. Silently, Ron promised the unconscious blond that he wouldn’t let anything happen to Harry. For one, Harry was his friend. For two, he didn’t want to die.
…
Hagrid’s hut was down the side of the hill that Hogwarts sat atop. It was about a ten minute walk, so it wasn’t a short distance. The hut sat just outside the Dark Forest, the shadow of the tall, ominous trees falling over them, but it had an incredible view of the lake.
A dog began barking as soon as they knocked on the door. Deep bass barks that made Harry and Ron step way back from the door. Hagrid shouted something and then the door was opening and Hagrid was beaming joyfully at them.
“Arry! Who’s that ya got with ya?” Hagrid stood in the doorway beaming happily. “Down, Fang!” A big black mastiff with hanging cheeks and drool was wagging his tail and trying to push past Hagrid’s big legs to get at the boys. “Tha’s Fang. He wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Hagrid promised.
“This is Ron Weasley,” Harry introduced. “He’s in Gryffindor with Draco and me. Ron, this is Hagrid. I met him on Diagon when I got my school supplies. He’s the one who gave me Hedwig for my birthday.”
“Cool,” Ron said politely, but his attention was still on the huge dog.
“Well, nice ta meet ya,” Hagrid boomed. “Any friend of ‘Arry's is a friend of mine. Come in, come in!” As the boys stepped in and fended off the overly friendly, slobbery Fang, Hagrid gestured to the table. “I made tea and cakes.”
The boys hopped up on two large stools while Hagrid plopped down across from them, still smiling happily. Ron and Harry shared a glance as Hagrid placed cakes down in front of them with loud thunks. He also gave them small cauldrons of tea. Ron giggled.
“I wan’ned to congratulate you on Gryffindor,” Hagrid boomed happily. “I was Gryffindor when I was in school. It’s the best House if ya don’t mind me sayin’.”
“You were?” Harry asked and tried to figure out how to eat the cake that was about the size of his head.
Ron leaned close. “Maybe we shouldn’t eat it.”
Harry elbowed him gently. “Hagrid, can you break this into smaller pieces for me?”
“Course, I can! ‘Ere, let me.” He got out a huge hunting knife and whacked the cake into fist size chunks.
Harry thanked him and dunked it in his cauldron of tea, hoping to soften it up.
“What’s this?” Ron grabbed a Daily Prophet from the floor, desperate for anything as a distraction so he wouldn’t have to eat the cake. It was dated a few days ago and had a theft from Gringotts on the front page. “Someone broke in to Gringotts? That’s impossible!”
Hagrid became nervous. “Tha’s nothing. Just kindlin’ for my fire.”
Harry looked over Ron’s shoulder to read the article as the redhead insisted, “No one’s ever broken into Gringotts before and gotten away, have they?”
“Why would they break into an empty vault?” Harry asked and suddenly remembered Hagrid saying Dumbledore had asked him to get something from Gringotts. Something important. “This happened the night of my birthday. The day we met,” he added, looking up.
Hagrid cleared his throat and took the paper from Ron. “How’re ya liking Hogwarts, ‘Arry?”
Ron looked startled as the paper disappeared from his hands.
Harry stared at their host curiously, but he answered, “I like it. Classes are really interesting.”
“Draco’s having some trouble,” Ron informed him. “Some Gryffindors don’t trust him because he’s a Malfoy.”
“Where is Draco?” Hagrid looked toward the door as if the boy would walk in any moment.
“He’s in the Infirmary,” Ron answered when he realized Harry wouldn’t. At Hagrid’s shocked look, he clarified, “He wasn’t attacked or nothing. Just a potions accident.”
“Well.” Hagrid reached forward to put his large hand gently on Harry’s head. “You tell Draco not to think on it. People are always hatin’ somethin’. Pay it no mind and hold yer heads high.”
“I’ll tell him,” Harry promised and fished his cake out of his tea. It was still hard, but he was able to bite off a piece. Ron watched him with fascinated horror. “Mmm. It’s good,” Harry complimented.
Hagrid smiled happily. “I’ll give ya some ta take back to Draco. It might make ‘em feel better.”
“That’d be great. Thanks, Hagird.”
Ron giggled again and whispered, “More like finish him off, you mean.”
Harry elbowed him again.
Hagrid showed them around his house and pumpkin patch. He even showed them a few feet into the Dark Forest. He talked cheerfully about all the creatures who lived there, most of them making Ron’s eyes big.
…
McGonagall gave them a stern look as they arrived to her class out of breath, but she started her lesson without taking points. Harry paid extra attention and took very detailed notes to be sure Draco didn’t miss anything.
“Think you wrote enough down?” Ron asked him wryly. Harry had filled an entire parchment and the class had been their practical!
“I think so,” Harry answered unsurely, not sure if he had.
Ron laughed and flung an arm around his shoulders. “Let’s head to dinner. I’m starved.”
They talking about Hagrid and the forest when, one floor above the entrance hall, something shoved Harry from behind.
Harry flew forward with frightening force. His shoulder clipped Dean’s and flung him into Seamus, both boys hitting the wall hard. Ron grabbed for Harry’s robe, but he wasn’t quick enough. Harry hit the stairs with a terrible impact and then tumbled.
It almost seemed to happen in slow motion and too quick to remember at the same time. Ron ran down to where Harry was sprawled, blood spilling in a growing pool around his head. Ron dropped to his knees. He was screaming. So were the girls. Dean and Seamus were still getting their feet back under them. Ron looked up.
Leaning over the second floor railing was a smirking Slytherin. Ron screamed, this time in rage. He jumped to his feet, but the boy disappeared as a crowd of students on the way to dinner rushed to look over the railing to see what was going on.
Suddenly, McGonagall was there, grabbing him by the shoulders. “What happened here, Mr. Weasley?” Other professors were trying to get everyone who’d rushed out of the Great Hall to move back. Dumbledore was levitating Harry, rushing him to the Infirmary.
Shaking, Ron looked into McGonagall’s eyes and said, “Draco’s gonna kill me,” before bursting into tears.
…
Draco felt - TERROR - scream along the bond, followed by bright flashes of pain, and then ominous silence. * Harry! * his mind cried out, but there was no answer. Anxious, angry, Draco pushed through the layers of darkness swaddling him, trying to breach the surface. His arms and legs felt heavy and floating at the same time as he churned them uselessly, trying to move.
He hit the floor, but it almost felt like it was happening to someone else. He couldn’t barely feel it. The shock was enough to get his eyes to crack open at last, however. Bright light stabbed into his brain, rendering him just as blind as before. Snarling, he slapped his hands onto the floor in front of him and pulled himself across the cold tile.
* Harry! * Spots dipped and swayed as some focus returned to him. Undulating walls, a gooey floor that waved gently up and down… He grit his teeth and pulled himself another foot forward. * Answer me, Harry! * Draco’s heart beat sluggishly, but it should have been racing. Terror clawed at his insides. * Harry, where are you? Harry! *
“Mr. Malfoy, please return…” Pomfrey was saying as she stepped into the Infirmary proper only to gasp upon seeing the boy dragging himself semi-conscious across he floor. “Mr. Malfoy!” she cried and rushed to his side.
The boy was dripping with sweat and panting. She turned him onto his back and he shoved weakly at her, his face twisted with fear.
“Mr. Malfoy… Draco… It’s just a dream, child. Come now. Back to bed.”
“Harry…” he moaned, tears welling in his eyes. “Harry…”
Pomfrey frowned. “Come now.” She sat him up. The boy trembled in her arms. “Everything is alright.”
Draco pushed at her with surprising strength. “Get away from me,” he hissed lowly.
Pomfrey watched shocked, her hands up over her mouth, as the boy pulled himself up on all fours and crawled his way to the nearest bed.
Draco couldn’t feel his hands, but that didn’t fucking matter. All that mattered was Harry. His boy needed him. * Harry, answer me right fucking now! * He pulled himself to his feet and swayed drunkenly only to collapse after two steps.
“You’re doing yourself injury!” she cried and gently putting a supportive arm around his shoulders. “I must insist you come to bed this instant. It was just a dream. Mr. Potter is fine, I assure you.”
The doors swung open and Dumbledore strode into the room. Pomfrey gasped and Draco knew the form floating behind the old wizard was Harry. A little of his fear left him. Harry was here. Draco had him.
“Set him on the bed,” Pomfrey was saying as if from a long distance, voice urgent and distressed. “What happened?”
“He fell down the stairs I’m afraid,” Dumbledore answered.
“Pushed…” Draco said hoarsely. Something cold and dangerous coiled in his gut. He watched through unblinking blurry eyes as a red stain soaked into the white sheets under Harry’s head. The bed dipped, causing ripples of shadow to overtake his vision, but Draco refused to look away. Harry needed him.
Dumbledore spoke from right next to him. “How do you know, my boy?”
“Know…” Draco insisted, slurring, but he didn’t fucking care if Dumbledore believed him or not. Draco knew the truth. His hands curled into dangerous fists.
“What has he told you?” Dumbledore suddenly asked.
McGonagall’s voice answered, “He believes a Slytherin used a spell to push Harry. However, he didn’t actually see the boy cast a spell. It could be that the boy was smiling simply because he thought it amusing that Harry fell.”
“He didn’t just fall. He went flying forward, Professor!” Ron’s voice protested hotly. It was thick and sounded as if he had been crying.
Draco’s eyes narrowed and he held tightly to the knowledge that Ron knew who’d done this to Harry.
“Draco… I’m sorry…” This time Ron sounded small and afraid, but Draco had no time for that. All his attention was on Harry and the healer chanting over him.
“Draco also reports that Harry was pushed,” Dumbledore continued. “He must have felt something through their bond.”
“We must get to the bottom of this,” was McGonagall’s quiet response.
“Yes,” Dumbledore answered and the old man put a supportive hand on Draco’s shoulder.
“Don’t touch me,” Draco said coldly, not once moving his eyes from Harry’s pale face.
Dumbledore’s hand left him and there was silence in the room after that.
Chapter end.
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Freedom Bound in Chains