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
- 69
- 70
- 71
Recovery
They waited an hour for Healer Pomfrey to finish treating Harry. In the end, he was placed under seven healing spells and was fed two potions: one for inflammation and another to heal broken bones. Promfrey stepped back exhausted and Dumbledore gently guided her to a chair.
“He’ll likely have some memory loss that could span a couple hours up to a full day before the fall,” she reported. “Otherwise, he’ll have a full recovery.” Looking up at the headmaster, she said gravely, “It was a nasty fall, Albus. The poor boy suffered a skull fracture, brain swelling, blood loss, a dislocated shoulder, and severe contusions along his back and hips.”
“Rest a minute, Poppy,” Dumbledore encouraged and looked up at McGonagall. “Please move the beds together so that the boys can sleep in peace. Mr. Weasley, I’m going to have to ask you to come with me to identify the boy you saw on the stairs. Poppy, contact Draco and Harry’s guardians when you’ve recovered, if you would.”
Voices warped in and out of focus and things seemed to be vibrating strangely, but all Draco cared about was the gentle heat from Harry’s body and the feeling of his boy’s chest rising and falling. As McGonagall guided him to lie flat and joined his bed to Harry’s, he flung a protective arm over Harry’s chest. His eyes closed and he finally let go of the excruciating hold he’d maintained on consciousness, giving in to the power of the sleeping potion at last.
…
Ron was brought to the Slytherin common room where the students were forced to line up as Dumbledore and Snape watched. The cold glares of all those hateful eyes made Ron break out in a sweat, but he boldly lifted his chin and pointed to Third-year Adrian Pucey.
“It was him!”
Snape coldly ordered the Slytherins to go to their dorm rooms and remain there until further notice before sweeping out of the room with Adrian Pucey’s arm in his grasp. Dumbledore guided Ron more gently and the four of them made their way to the Headmaster’s office.
Pucey scowled and looked offended, claiming innocence. His wand only showed those spells they were practicing in class and no one actually saw him cast a spell at Harry. Ron went red in the face as a slow smirk curled the Pucey’s lips, but there was nothing Dumbledore could do.
Pucey was a student as much as Harry, and it was their job to act in his best interest. With no evidence, even circumstantial evidence, against him, Dumbledore’s hands were tied. All he could do was warn the boy quite seriously of the consequences of injuring another student while at Hogwarts and dismissed Pucey into Snape’s care.
Dumbledore gazed at the red-faced boy left standing angrily in front of his desk. “The truth will win out, young man. Until then we cannot act without proof.”
Ron stared mutinously back at the Headmaster in silence.
Dumbledore sighed sadly. “You will be held responsible for any retaliation you take,” he warned. “I can’t imagine how that would help your friends.”
“Yes, sir,” Ron answered stiffly. “May I go?”
Dumbledore inclined his head and the boy practically fled his office.
…
As soon as they were in the dungeons and out of sight, Snape spun on his heel. He grabbed a hold of Pucey’s robe and shoved him against the wall. Black eyes glittering with malice, voice dripping with disgust, he said in a low, compelling voice, “You did well to escape punishment this time, Mr. Pucey, but that is only due to the fact that Potter was not killed. Had the boy died, you would have been put under a more… vigorous… investigation. Shame would have been brought to your name, to my House, and you would have been placed in Azkaban, forever doomed to suffer unimaginable torment.”
Pucey looked up at his Head of House, face blanched with fear. His fingers ached as they clutched at the wall he was being held against. “I d-didn’t…” he stuttered weakly.
“Do not attempt to fool me,” Snape snarled, his face less than an inch from the teenager’s. “Let me give you some… advice.” He tightened his hand in the boy’s robe, nearly choking him. “Do not commit murder while at Hogwarts. Do not underestimate the power that destroyed one Dark Lord and precipitated the down fall of another. Dumbledore will act regretful, but he will destroy you all the same if anything were to befall his precious Boy Hero.”
Pucey whimpered, legs trembling.
Snape released the boy with a shove and Pucey cowered against the wall. With a louder voice, he spat with dark fury, “Fifty points from Slytherin, Mr. Pucey, for acting with Gryffindor shortsightedness.”
Pucey grew impossibly paler.
“Get out of my sight this instant,” Snape hissed, cold as ice.
The dark-haired teen fled.
…
Narcissa conjured a chair and placed it next to Draco and Harry’s hospital bed. She gently stroked her son’s soft hair off of his face. He was practically curled around Harry, and she frowned at how still and slack both of the boys’ faces were. They weren’t merely sleeping. They were unconscious. Four days into school and they were already in the Infirmary with critical injuries. She didn’t like it at all.
“I want to bring them home,” she said lowly. She looked over her shoulder and pierced her husband with coldly angry eyes.
Lucius placed a hand on her shoulder and gently squeezed. They had not repaired their relationship, but the anger and hurt between them had to wait. Their children were in trouble. “I’ll go speak to the headmaster.”
“I want assurances or they are coming home,” she said with finality.
Lucius gave her a little bow before turning on his heel and striding from the room. On the way out, he passed Andromeda and Ted as they arrived. Little Denebola was asleep on Andromeda’s shoulder. Lucius did not acknowledge them in any way and continued on. Harry’s guardian or not, the woman was still a blood traitor.
Ted conjured a chair for Andromeda and she sat across from her sister on Harry’s side of the bed. This was the first time Narcissa had met Denebola. The child lay curled in the nook of Andromeda’s arm sound asleep and Narcissa felt an old pang of remorse. She didn’t dwell on it long, however, too concerned for Draco and Harry.
…
Dumbledore sat behind his desk and considered the furious man in front of him. Lucius was not satisfied in the least with the school's dead-end investigation, and he was down right furious when Dumbledore refused to release the name of the student accused of the crime. The child had rights, and his parents would hold Hogwarts and Dumbledore responsible if those rights were violated.
“If you cannot assure me of my children’s safety while attending this school, Dumbledore, I will pull them out,” Lucius threatened. “And I will make it very clear that it was due to my concern for their safety within these walls. How will other parents react? How will the Ministry?”
Dumbledore understood the man’s anger. He truly he did. “I will have the ghosts patrol the hallways between periods, more power will be allotted to the paintings so they can serve as witnesses, and I’ve been assured by the Heads of each House that they will take steps to better monitor their students. We will keep the boys safe, I assure you.”
Lucius was not pleased. He gave the old man a cold look down his aristocratic nose. “I will interview each House Head. If I am unsatisfied with the measures they plan to take to ensure the students’ saftey…” He paused to snap up his cane into his fist. “We’ll talk again, Headmaster,” he coldly threatened.
…
Severus opened the door to his personal chambers as he heard a knock.“Mr. Malfoy, ” he greeted and carefully blanked his expression.
Grey eyes stared at him with predatory intent. “Professor Snape.” Lucius gave a sharp smile full of teeth. “I have need to speak with you once more.”
Severus opened his door wider, steeling himself.
Lucius strode into the room and seated himself in an armchair placed at an angle to the fireplace as if he owned the room and it was Severus who was the guest.
Severus very carefully chose to show just enough annoyance that Lucius would think he was trying to hide it. When Lucius gave him a knowing, superior smirk, Severus scowled as if further annoyed that Lucius could see through him. Severus crossed his arms, as if defensive, and hid behind a curtain of oily black hair.
“We both know why I am here.” Lucius’s voice was silky sweet and dripping with threat. He leaned forward, his long blond hair sliding over one shoulder to fall gracefully over his chest as he braced his hands on the cane planted firmly on the carpet in front of him. “I want to know, Snape, what steps you are going to take to ensure my ward never again comes to harm by one of your House. I also want a very detailed explanation on how my son could incur such a serious injury while attending your class.”
“Your son was injured when the student behind him made the most basic mistake of adding quills to the Boil Cure potion whilst still on the flame,” Severus recited with absolutely no inflection. “Potions accidents do occur, especially so early in their education. Mr. Malfoy’s clothes were banished within seconds of the potion spilling and he was taken directly to the Infirmary where he received excellent care. I have been informed that by breakfast tomorrow he will be completely recovered.”
Lucius gave a silky smooth, close-mouthed smile. Almost gently, he said, “I believe you mean ‘recovered with minimal scarring’.”
Inside, Severus winced, the comment purposefully bringing to mind the child’s horrific scars. On the outside, he maintained a stoic mask.
Lucius stared at him with the eyes of a patient leopard. “And your plan to control your House concerning my ward?”
“I have… spoken… with the boy suspected of the act and I assure you that…”
Lucius stood abruptly. Tired of playing with his prey. “I want the child’s name.” It was a demand, but when Severus simply stared mutely, Lucius added impatiently, “Do not concern yourself. The child is safe from me.” Grey eyes brightened, hinting at silver. “For now. I merely want to have a discussion of my own with his parents. I will be discrete, of course.”
“… Adrian Pucey.” There was no point in hiding it. Lucius would find out one way or another. If Severus resisted, he would incur Lucius’s sadistic revenge and no longer hold the man’s tentative trust.
With surprising speed, Lucius grabbed Severus’s left forearm with brutal force. “Be careful, Severus. If I think for a moment you’re moving against Harry, I will destroy you,” he hissed in a dangerous whisper.
Severus yanked free, heart beating hard and fast. With glittering, dark eyes, he spat, “And should that day ever come, you’d be standing right beside me wearing a mask, Lucius.”
Lucius grinned, all teeth. “I don’t think so. Malfoys are never slaves.” With deliberate slowness, he rolled up his sleeve.
Numb with honest shock, Severus could only stare at the scarred, pale arm that Lucius revealed. There was no hint or shadow of the Dark Mark like there was on Severus’s arm. He couldn’t even imagine what it had taken Lucius to accomplish that; it was thought to be impossible!
Lucius gave a shallow bow. “I wish you luck with your House, Professor Snape. I don’t have to describe what will happen if something of this nature should occur again, do I?”
“… No,” Severus answered lowly.
Lucius gave another little smile, eyes cold, before leaving the professor to think on his words.
…
Draco woke up feeling like shit. He felt dry as a bone and desperately thirsty, his head was pounding and he was pissed off.
“Draco…” A gentle hand touched his hair.
Draco snarled and slapped it aside. He turned dry eyes to see Narcissa sitting next to him. “What’re you doin’ here?”
Her eyes widened in surprise before softening in concern. “It’s school policy to send a report to the parents of students treated in the Infirmary.”
“But why are you here?” Draco demanded again. “We’re fine. Go home.” He wanted to check on Harry. He wanted to be alone.
“Draco…” Narcissa began.
“Get out!” Draco yelled only to wince and scowl as that made his head pound harder.
Narcissa sat frozen.
Madam Pomfrey bustled in, a ward telling her that Draco had regained consciousness. “How are you feeling, Mr. Malfoy?” she asked.
Draco thought his head would explode in fury. Why wouldn’t they leave him alone?
Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, blocking the two women out of his awareness. The bond was a trickle of ambient emotions as Harry slept. Draco realized he was clutching the shirt above Harry’s heart. He could feel every slow rise and fall of his boy’s chest. Harry was alive and warm and next to him.
He took another breath. When he opened his eyes, his anger was buried and he looked at the women with enforced calm. True privacy would not come while they were in the Infirmary anyway.
“… side effects of resisting the Sleeping Potion,” the healer was saying.
Draco didn’t care about what she had to say and didn’t bother asking her to repeat it. He looked to Narcissa, “We apologize for worrying you. We’ll be more careful. You don’t have to stay.”
Narcissa masked her expression due to Pomfrey’s presence, but Draco could see that she was upset by her eyes. “You can come home,” she offered quietly. “We can get tutors as skilled as any you’d find here.”
Draco’s expression softened. He reached over and touched her hand. “Thank you. Not yet. If you would like to help, I’d like to be alone with Harry for an hour or two. In a private room.”
Narcissa nodded and stood. She wore a thin black skirt and boots. A white blouse with a few ruffles falling from her neck and over her chest and a dark grey day-jacket. Diamonds hung from her ears and a diamond broach sat at the base of her throat. “Lucius is talking with the Headmaster now. Let me go find him.”
While she was gone, Pomfrey worked around them in a huff. She was clearly offended by Draco’s request. Andromeda returned with Dee and Ted. The little girl climbed up onto the bed and into Draco’s lap. Draco gave her a hug, but it was stiff. Ted gently scooped his daughter up, sensing that Draco was not in the mood to deal with the toddler.
Draco assured them he was fine and that they’d be more careful; the two gave him a string of good advice and returned home. Shortly after, Narcissa returned with Dumbledore and Lucius as promised.
Dumbledore’s eyes were twinkling as he dealt with a very unhappy Pomfrey, and between Narcissa and Lucius they transferred Harry over into a private room for contagious or especially critically patients. Draco followed them, never allowing Harry out of his sight and climbed into the new bed next to his boy.
“I’ll be in the waiting area,” Narcissa told him before stepping outside. “To make sure no one disturbs you.”
“Thank you,” he whispered, throat tight with gratitude.
She gave him a gentle smile and shut the door.
Draco immediately turned to Harry. The boy lay sleeping, his lips slightly parted, dark lashes resting on his cheeks. Draco ran trembling fingers through the boy’s hair. He found the slightly raised scar above Harry’s right ear and a little to the back. Closing his eyes, he tried to breathe through the knowledge that Harry would have died from that fall in the Muggle world.
Working with careful determination, he managed to strip Harry of his hospital top and pants. He quickly stripped out of his own and settled between Harry’s legs. He leaned on his forearms so that his chest didn’t crush Harry’s, their stomachs and groins pressing against each other. Opening his thighs a bit, he spread Harry’s legs wider and felt their body heat meld into a soft warmth that soaked into Draco’s bones.
“Harry,” he called softly. Dropping his head forward, his hair brushed Harry’s cheeks a second before their lips gently touched. “Harry,” he said directly into the boy’s mouth. Draco licked a slow line over those petal soft lips. “Harry.” He laid a careful kiss on the boy’s bottom lip. Another on the corner of his mouth, then his cheek. Dipping to his ear, he called again, “Harry,” and traced the outside of that delicate ear with his tongue.
The boy shifted, his eyebrows tensing as dazed green eyes fluttered open. A dry groan escaped his throat.
“Harry,” Draco breathed. He leaned to the side so that he could free one hand to stroke the boy’s cheek and run his hands through his hair possessively.
Harry leaned into the touch, but he was confused. Where were they? What happened? Slowly the memory of Draco getting hurt in Potions returned. “Draco…” - concern fear - His voice rasped dryly. Something was wrong.
Draco helped him sit up and knelt between Harry’s legs. He gave the boy a tall glass of water and drank one himself.
Harry obediently drank the whole cup, but his eyes were locked on Draco. Something was wrong, he thought again, the certainty settling on him like a physical weight. Draco didn’t look right. He almost seemed triggery as if he were on the verge of a flashback, but he was focused completely on Harry as if it were Harry who’d been hurt and not Draco…
“Hush,” Draco ordered as he took the empty glass from the boy and set them both on the bedside table.
Harry ducked his eyes, trying to obey - worry.
“Don’t worry, Harry. You’ll heal us both,” Draco whispered. He cupped Harry’s face in his hands and kissed his lips.
Harry opened his mouth, inviting Draco in, but the blond kept the kiss superficial, just a meeting of two lips. Harry’s hands clenched in the sheets.
Draco leaned back, caressing those soft cheeks with his thumbs. “You’ve lost some time. What’s the last thing you remember?”
“You getting hurt,” Harry answered, eyes downcast submissively. “Snape banished your robes and shirt. You were burnt. Ron was next to me. Snape was yelling. I don’t remember anything else.”
“That was yesterday morning,” Draco informed him, still gently brushing Harry’s cheeks with his fingertips. “You and Ron brought me to the Infirmary. Pomfrey wouldn’t let you stay. I told you to stay away from Quirrell and stay with Ron. You went to visit Hagrid and went to class. On the way to dinner, someone cast a spell that pushed you down the stairs. You got hurt pretty badly. I felt it all through the bond. We’ve been in the Infirmary all night. Narcissa, Lucius, Andromeda, Ted, and Dee all came. Andromeda, Ted, and Dee went home once I woke up and told them we were fine, that we’d be careful, but Narcissa and Lucius are still here. They helped talk Dumbledore into letting us be alone for a bit and got us this room.”
Harry was trembling at this point - guilt self-hate. Draco had been hurt and healing, and Harry had made him worry. He knew Draco would have been furious that Harry had been hurt while away from him. Draco had probably hurt himself trying to get to Harry. He’d hurt Draco! He’d worried everyone. He was a no-good freak! Why couldn’t he do anything right? He had to be more careful! He had to be aware! He knew the school wasn’t a safe place. How could he let this happen?
Draco simply watched as Harry absorbed everything that had happened. He continued to stroke the boy’s cheeks, now wet with a stream of tears as the boy punished himself with - anger guilt self-hate regret unworthiness.
“I’m sorry, Draco. Sorry for causing everyone trouble. Please? Please, Draco…” Harry lifted his eyes to beg. He needed to heal Draco, to make sure any damage he’d caused was fixed.
Draco gave him an almost cold smile. “You first, Harry. Always you first.”
Harry paled. He’d been hurt bad, then. He felt a spike of - anxiety. He’d have worried Draco bad in that case. Draco was mad at him.
“You fell down the stairs, Harry. Bruised you up pretty good. Dislocated your shoulder. Cracked your head open. You lost so much blood. It was red everywhere. You even lost your memories. They were yours and now they’re gone forever. You can’t even tell me who did this to you. Who almost killed you.”
Harry broke into sobs. His gut churned with so much anxiety and guilt that he was on the verge of being sick. He hated himself. He was always hurting the people around him, always hurting Draco. Causing him trouble and scaring him. He wasn’t worthy of Draco’s love. The darkness under his skin oozed to the surface, making him feel filthy and like clawing his skin right off his body just to escape it. Wails of grief built up in his chest and throat and choked him.
He felt as if he were going to shatter apart when a hand fisted his hair with painful force. The pain ground him and brought Draco and the room swimming into focus. Silver eyes pierced him straight through.
“I’m going to give you your punishment, Harry. That’s my job, not yours. Now roll over. Lay on your belly.”
Harry obediently lay back and rolled over as Draco got off the bed out out from between his legs. He trembled with anticipation. Needing so very much. Needing to be made clean, to atone, to suffer for his sins. He needed to apologize and earn forgiveness.
“Sorry, Draco, so sorry, I’m sorry, Draco, sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Draco, I’m sorry…” he babbled into the pillow, crying helplessly.
Draco lifted the hairbrush that he’d noticed on the bedside table. There was also a lamp and a thin glass vase with three white flowers. It was wooden and heavy, the bristles made of soft hair, but he wasn’t interested in the bristles. He turned it so that he could feel the solid back. He whacked it into his palm and felt a satisfying sting. He turned to Harry and tugged on his leg.
“I want you bent over the edge, Harry. Legs on the ground.”
The boy obeyed, crying broken little sobs. The bond boomed with his - GUILT hate NEED.
Draco smoothed his hand over Harry’s soft skin. “It’s going to hurt, Harry.”
Harry went limp, pliant and needy.
“Ready?”
“Please, Draco, please, sorry, so sorry…”
“Hush,” Draco commanded and Harry instantly became quiet, swallowing his pleas and sobs.
Draco placed a hand on the small of Harry’s back for balance and brought the brush down with a smack on Harry’s ass.
Harry’s hands clenched in the sheets as the burn registered. Another smack. Tears fell down his red face, soaking the bed underneath his head. Smack! He had to press his face into the sheets to muffle a pained cry.
Draco breathed slowly through his nose and out his mouth as he laid down a steady pattern of hits. Harry’s skin slowly turned pink and then red. The heat that radiated from the boy’s skin increased with each blow until Draco could feel it an inch away.
* You’re mine. You have to be careful. Nothing can happen to you, Harry. I love you. You scared me so much, * he whispered into the boy’s mind as he laid down another three blows.
Harry’s back glistened with sweat and he practically choked on the sheets to keep his cries muffled. As the pain and heat bloomed into an inferno, he felt the guilt and hate fall away. Draco loved him. Draco would make him clean.
Draco slowly realized that he was crying, tears wetting his face, making his blond hair clinging to his cheeks. Realized the tangle of sharp emotions choking him were his own. He could have lost Harry! He should have been there! Harry looked so small bent over, his butt cheeks turning a dark red as he brought his arm down again and again with more and more force. Draco was trembling. His whole arm vibrated with exhaustion. He couldn’t catch his breath.
Harry tossed his head back with a gasp, consumed by the burning pain, blind to everything else. He arched into each blow, tears soaking his face. It took him several minutes to realize that the punishment had stopped. He turned his head, his butt screaming with every heartbeat. Draco was sitting on the bed next to him, stroking his hair.
“… it’s over… it’s done… so good, Harry… love you…” the blond murmured, a soft whisper.
Harry felt like he was floating, as if he were dreaming. Filled to bursting with love, he carefully stood, forcing his legs to lock and not collapse under him. Panting, it was his turn to cup Draco’s face.
The blond was crying, his eyes dark and lost. It was Harry’s turn to heal. Murmuring back at the blond … “love you… thank you, Draco… yours, I’m yours…” Harry got Draco situated on the bed on his stomach.
There was a new blotchy scar between Draco’s shoulder blades, erasing the white lines and ropes embedded on his skin from his time in the Hold. Harry knelt between Draco’s legs and braced himself on his hands before leaning down to trace the new scar with his tongue - loveLOVElove - beat like something alive in his chest, in his soul.
Every move made Harry’s butt ache and burn, burn so bad. It felt amazing, wearing Draco’s mark, feeling the impact of Draco deep in his skin. The heat and pain made his love burn hotter, made his magic strum to life.
Draco gasped as he felt Harry hovering over him, felt the heat of Harry’s love and magic soak deep into his body as the boy began to trace every single scar with his hot tongue. Halfway down his back, Draco began moaning, his hips began to rock against the bed as pleasure coiled and tightened in his gut.
Harry’s sweat dripped onto Draco’s back as he worked his way down Draco’s beautiful body. He could hardly contain his - joy pleasure desire - as Draco began thrusting against the bed. Harry was making him feel good! Draco, Draco, Draco… he chanted in his mind, completely lost to their spiraling pleasure.
Gently kissing the small of Draco’s back, he whispered a desperate, “Please…”
Draco groaned deep in his chest and lifted up on his knees. He turned his head sideways on his forearms and growled, “Yes, Harry. Lick me open. Do it. Make me cum.”
Harry almost exploded right there. Draco had never let him touch him there since that time in the Hold. Their first time. It was a cherished memory. That Draco would allow him this once more when he didn’t deserve it … - GRATITUDE LOVE -
He gently spread Draco’s cheeks and pressed his face close. He licked at Draco’s hole, getting it wet and soft. The sounds of Draco’s moans and gasps made Harry feel like he was on fire. Eyes fluttering closed, he pressed his tongue forward into that tight opening, and licked inside the rim. The taste was bitter and musky and Draco…
Harry groaned hungrily and pressed ever closer, clinging to Draco’s hips.
Draco was grunting now, his hips rocking back on Harry’s face, setting the pace for Harry’s tongue to follow. Draco’s fists tore at the sheets. Pleasure spiked up his spine. So fucking good! He was so close. He freed one hand to reach between his legs. “Yes… Harry, mine… you’re mine…” he growled.
Sharp stabs of shocking pleasure, Harry’s hot mouth and his stabbing, wiggling tongue, the hungry little noises Harry made, god it was all coming together. Thrusting back, pressing Harry’s tongue as deep as it could go, the pleasure rolled through him like thunder. Blinded by stars, Draco spurt clear fluid over his fingers. Head thrown back with a guttural cry, he collapsed on the bed.
Dazed, thrumming with the orgasm, Draco rolled on his side to see Harry kneeling on the bed, cheeks red, lips flushed and swollen, hair a mess, and his green eyes blazing. The bond practically screamed with - need desire LOVE. Their magic was still locked, filling the room with a thumping, incomplete power. Draco shivered and gave a slow smile. He shifted so he was lying on his back, his legs on either side of the gorgeous boy.
“Touch yourself, Harry,” he whispered low. “Show me. Show me how good I make you feel.”
Harry whimpered, his eyes falling closed as he touched his stiff member with tentative fingers.
“Open your eyes.”
Harry obeyed and blushed as Draco stared back at him, eyes silver and lazy and happy. Harry practically melted into that look.
The taste of Draco on his tongue, the sounds of Draco’s pleasure still ringing in his ears, the pain throbbing hotly, add to that the soft brush of his own fingers on his dick and it was nearly enough to send him over the edge. He gave a whole body shudder, flushed and heated and almost there, Draco watching every move, his every expression. He was open and vulnerable and all Draco’s.
Draco’s smiled that small, sweet smile that only Harry saw, and Harry sobbed, overwhelmed with how much he loved him - would do anything for him… “Not yet,” Draco purred.
Harry whimpered and made his fingers even lighter to keep from cumming, just a feather’s touch, and it was still almost enough… “Please please please please…” he begged. Magic and pain and desire and love twisted the air into knots oh god he couldn’t hold back it was coming…
Draco sat up, all languid grace, and gripped Harry’s hips. The tips of his fingers pressed into the blazing heat of Harry’s ass. The boy tossed his head back with a soft cry, hand frozen as he barely hung on to Draco’s command to hold it, to wait. Their magic swirled and throbbed, filling the room with power on the verge of crashing down…
Draco licked up Harry’s exposed throat and whispered into his skin, “Cum, Harry.”
Harry screamed, flinging his arms around Draco’s shoulders and tucking his face against Draco’s throat as his whole body curled forward. Howling magic broke over them in a wave, making Draco moan as he clung to his boy. Magic filled them to overflowing, healing their hurts, washing them clean, and they collapsed in a sweaty, panting heap wrapped in each other’s arms.
“Good boy,” Draco whispered on the edge of unconsciousness. “Good boy, Harry.”
Harry curled in closer to Draco’s sheltering warmth and let sleep pull him under.
Chapter end.
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Freedom Bound in Chains