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
- 70
- 71
- 72
Making Plans
Draco led Harry out of the room by his hand. Harry blushed prettily and gave a shy smile to the waiting Narcissa.
Narcissa smiled gently back and stood from the chair that had been placed in the hall. She shrunk the parchment she’d been writing on and tucked it into a pocket in her skirt. “How are you feeling?”
“Much better,” Draco answered. He gave her an easy smile, his blond hair tucked behind his ears and his eyes a warm grey.
“Good.” She ached to reach out and touch her child’s cheek, but she knew better. “You are still not officially cleared to leave the Infirmary, so you’ll have to check in with Healer Pomfrey.”
Draco sighed. “Fine.” As he followed Narcissa down the hall, he asked, “What time is it?”
“It is Sunday, five fifteen in the evening.”
“Dinner will be served soon,” Draco said and glanced at Harry, hearing the boy’s stomach rumble. Harry’s blush deepened, making Draco laugh softly under his breath.
Pomfrey, her grey hair pulled back into a messy bun, looked cross as she straightened her pristine white apron. Her forbidding frown grew even darker when she scanned them and found them in perfect health. Well, except for the superficial bruising on Harry’s buttocks. She gave Narcissa a very disapproving look, but Narcissa returned it with icy composure, completely unruffled. Unfortunately, it was not within Pomfrey’s authority to criticize her parenting.
Both boys bore new scars - Draco’s back where he’d been burned and Harry’s scalp where it had impacted stairs. Harry’s memory loss also remained, but otherwise they were in perfect health. There wasn’t even a trace of the healing spells and potions that had been in their systems not three hours ago.
“Ah, my boys, it’s good to see you up and about!” Dumbledore said with cheer, arriving at the end of their examination. His robes were a soft gold with green vines along the bottom hem and sleeves. Draco snorted as he noticed the small white flowers tucked into the old man’s waist-long beard. “Your bond is an amazing thing.” He chuckled. “It is a good thing your magic was accepted by Hogwarts and absorbed into the walls or I dare say the whole castle would have felt it. As it is, only myself and Minerva were able to feel the boost to the wards.”
Pomfrey humphed. “Channeling powerful magic while recovering from injury is dangerous,” she informed them with deep disapproval.
Everyone in the room ignored her.
“Can we go?” Draco asked, bored. Harry was hungry.
“Yes, of course, of course,” Dumbledore answered jovially, but then his face took on a serious cast. “Be careful, my boy. Don’t do anything that would land you in trouble.”
“I won’t,” Draco promised. He’d be very sure his revenge wouldn’t be traced back to him. Looking up at Narcissa, he gave her a grateful smile. “Thank you for coming and looking out for us. Tell Lucius I’ll take care of it.”
Narcissa inclined her head. “Write often.”
“We will.”
“Bye, Narcissa,” Harry called softly as Draco tugged him to the door. His beautiful green eyes were soft and filled with contentment behind his round black glasses. “Love you.”
Narcissa teared up and gave him a wave as the boys disappeared back into the school.
…
They were the first to arrive in the Great Hall. Harry sat next to Draco at their usual table and winced as his butt came in contact with the hard wood of the bench. Draco watched through half-lidded eyes as the boy squirmed before finally resigning himself to the painful ache and sitting still.
“I want you to think about something,” Draco spoke calmly. He instantly had Harry’s full attention. “If you’re unconscious or too hurt to heal us when we’re attacked, we might not be able to walk away next time. You have stay safe, Harry. Without you we can’t heal ourselves.”
Harry ducked his head - regret determination. “Sorry, Draco.”
Draco slid his fingers down Harry’s jaw and hooked his chin, gently lifting it up. “Good boy,” he said softly.
Harry stared at him with wide eyes - disbelief longing.
Smiling softly, Draco whispered it again, “Good boy.”
Kids began entering the hall. Voices dropped to whispers as soon as they saw Harry and Draco sitting alone at the Gryffindor table. Draco idly wondered what rumors were being spread about them. Percy would be paying attention to the gossip and would report back to him later.
It wasn’t long before their group started arriving. They walked in gloomily, their steps slow, their heads downcast. Hermione noticed them first. She said something and then came running over. Draco smiled and accepted the excited clasps on his shoulders from Dean, Seamus, and the Weasley twins. Harry received a more thorough welcome.
The girls touched his shoulders and arms while the boys pounded on his back. Hermione even touched Harry’s hair. Harry blushed at the attention, but his mask was in place and he smiled up at them, hiding the pain of being jostled on his bruised bottom.
Draco cleared his throat. “We’re fine, guys. Sit down so we can eat.”
As the group began to sit down at the table, giving them some space, Draco noticed that Ron had held back and that Neville was missing. He frowned at Hermione. “Where’s Neville?”
Her happy expression shifted to something more sad. She shook her head, her frizzy hair hitting Harry in the face. “He won’t come down. He thinks it’s his fault.” Her eyes shifted to Ron before looking back at Draco adding, “Harry probably wouldn’t have been hurt if you were there.”
Ron winced and sunk even lower on his seat.
Draco inclined his head slightly to let her know he understood that he had to deal with Ron. He also had to deal with Neville, but Hermione probably didn’t understand that or she’d have worded her answer differently. They ate dinner, listening as the twins and the others filled them in on what they’d missed.
Apparently Ron and Harry had heard from Hagrid about the first ever break-in at Gringotts. Weird thing was, the thief had broken in to an empty vault. What were the odds? Raul, the Sixth-year Gryffindor bully, had congratulated Neville on a job well done earlier that afternoon, which was why Neville was hiding now. They had gotten their homework mostly done and offered to let Harry and Draco copy for tomorrow’s classes.
After dinner, they went back up to the common room. Draco maneuvered through their group to grab Ron’s wrist. He held it loosely, but the redhead still winced. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Ron didn’t answer one way or another, but he followed Draco up the stairs. Harry trailed after them, saying goodnight to the others.
In their dorm, Neville was sitting on his bed. His fat toad sat next to him, croaking sadly. Neville looked pale and exhausted. He stared dully as Harry carefully shut the door behind them and moved to the side, his head submissively bowed.
Draco spun and faced Ron. “So who did it?” he demanded lowly.
Ron fidgeted. “I don’t know… not for sure.”
Draco shoved him hard in the chest, making Ron stagger and his back hit the door with jarring force. He stared at Draco with wide, frightened eyes. “Don’t give me that shit,” Draco hissed. He stalked up to the slightly taller boy, eyes glittering. “You were right there and Harry almost died. I want a name.”
“I thought it was this Slytherin kid, a Third-year named Pucey,” Ron yelled, tears filling his eyes. “He was standing there smug as hell, staring down at us before everyone else rushed over, but he was one floor above where Harry fell, so it had to be by magic if it was him, and they checked his wand and everything and there was no proof! So I don’t know okay!”
Draco waited a moment to let the redhead’s tears slowly dry on his cheeks. “Okay,” he answered softly and backed off.
Ron stared at him in shock. “That’s it?”
Draco lifted an eyebrow, half his hair falling to frame his face. “You’ll be more careful next time,” he stated darkly. It almost sounded like a threat.
Ron swallowed and nodded. He looked over at Harry. “I’m really sorry, mate. I’m… I’m glad you didn’t die.”
Harry lifted his head and gave him a beautiful smile. “Thanks, Ron.”
Ron blushed, his freckles disappearing under the wave of red, and shifted awkwardly again. “So… can I go?”
Draco nodded, his attention was already on Neville. He hardly noticed as Harry and Ron shared a few more words before Ron slipped out of the room. Neville wore an expression very similar to Harry’s - wide-eyes full of pain and need, pale with flushed cheeks, trembling lips. It tugged at his insides.
Draco walked slowly up to the boy, leaving only a few inches between them. Neville had ducked his head as soon as Draco had started moving toward him, his pale hands clutched at the sheets. Draco slowly slid his school robe off his shoulders to pool at his feet. Then he began to unbutton his shirt. He let the shirt fall to the floor to join his robe. Neville’s breath hitched, but his head remained down.
Draco turned, displaying his back. “Look.”
It was a command and he felt Neville’s eyes slowly lift. He glanced over his shoulder to see the boy looked close to passing out. Horror was written across his face.
* Harry, show him. *
Harry came away from where he stood by the door and went to them. He sat next to Neville and gave him a sweet smile. “These are from the Hold where Draco was before we met.” He gently traced one of the whip scars. “This was from your potion.” He traced the outline of the splotch of scar between Draco’s shoulder blades.
Neville whimpered. Tears streaked his face. “I-I’m s-s-sorry…” he rasped.
You didn’t do it on purpose… He’d probably heard that a hundred times from Hermione already. It was an accident… equally useless. It wouldn’t even touch the guilt Neville felt. He didn’t want it explained away, but maybe not even Neville understood what he did want… what he needed. But Draco did. Neville needed atonement so that he could feel forgiven.
Draco turned and faced the chubby boy with the round cheeks and guilty brown eyes. He bent forward, putting their faces close together as he fisted the other boy’s thick hair. “You were careless. You were afraid and made a mistake. It got me hurt. Added to my scars.”
Neville winced. He didn’t even try to escape the blond’s hold. He stared up at him almost desperately. “Yes,” he sobbed.
“You’re gonna make it up to me.” Draco smiled, slow and dangerous. His fist tightened, making the boy whimper in pain. “You’re going to do our homework for tomorrow and then you’re going to start studying potions. You’re going to study it until you make the perfect potion. To apologize.”
“Yes, sir…” Neville’s eyes widened at the words that spilled from his lips. Draco was the same age as him. He was smaller than him even, but for some reason it felt right on a deep level to call him that.
Draco’s eyes softened. “Good.” He released Neville and gently brushed his fingers over the boy’s damp cheek in reward. “Get to work.”
Neville scrambled off the bed, past Harry, to his school bag discarded in the corner.
Harry began to pick up Draco’s clothes.
“I’m going out of a bit. Stay here.” Draco’s eyes flashed over his shoulder as he pulled on a sweater to wear over his jeans.
“Yes, Draco,” Harry answered easily.
Neville nodded with a hot blush.
“Good,” Draco repeated, almost purring.
Both of the boys flushed with pleasure at the blond’s praise.
Draco searched for Percy. He wasn’t in the common room, so Draco went down to the study Percy had shown him before. Sure enough, the older teen was waiting for him. He was writing an essay at the desk and smiled as Draco approached.
“How are you feeling?” Percy asked quietly.
“Good as new,” Draco answered. He stood next to Percy’s chair, facing the teen, with his back to the corner of the desk. He leaned back against it. They were about eye level with Percy sitting and Draco standing. “What’s the word?”
Percy pushed his glasses higher up his nose. “Some people think it was just an accident. The rest think it was the Slytherins although no one knows who. Nott’s name has been bandied about. The rumor is he was jealous that Harry made the Quidditch team because of the stunt during flying class. Some people are saying the potions accident was rigged somehow to get you out of the way. All part of a Slytherin plan. I kept my eye on Quirrell, but he didn’t do anything out of the ordinary.”
Draco hummed. He glanced down at Percy’s essay. “Can I borrow parchment? I need to write a letter.”
Percy got some out of his bag and relinquished his seat so the blond could sit. Percy leaned his hip against the desk as he watched Draco pen a quick note. He didn’t try reading it. He’d learned over the years that sometimes it was for the best not to know everything. Still, a question burned on his tongue and slipped past his lips no matter how much he tried to hold it in.
“So was it Pucey?” Ron was his little brother. He knew who he’d fingered. He had practically screamed the accusation in front of dozens of witnesses when Harry had fallen.
Grey eyes looked up at him curiously. “You know it was.”
Percy bit his lip for a split second before continuing. “There were a lot of people on the landing, Draco. He wasn’t the only one smirking. His wand turned up clean. Are you sure?”
Draco frowned. He put the quill down and sat back in the chair. “Slytherins have a lot of ways of covering things up. He’s a Third-year. I’m sure he could manage it. He also made a threatening statement about Malfoys hooking up with Potters at the robe shop. We also know he’s very firmly on the Dark side. He saw an opportunity and took it. It was violent and impulsive. Not many other people are capable of that. On top of that, Ron was there and his instincts told him it was Pucey. People always forget we’re animals on a basic level. Instincts are often correct.”
He stood and pushed at Percy’s chest with the palm of his hand, warningly. His eyes glittered dangerously as he stared up at the older teen. “I won’t let bastards like Pucey get away with shit because they know how to work the system. Society may need proof, but I don’t.”
Draco’s words were full of double meaning. Percy had been a helpless First-year when he’d been molested. It was always at night while every one else slept and he’d always passed out afterward. When he woke in the morning, drenched in sweat and terrified, there had been no marks, no evidence. It was impossible for a man to break into the dorms. Without proof, no one would have believed him.
Draco had believed, but more than that he had done something about it. It made no rational sense. It shouldn’t have been possible that a kid four years younger than him could protect him from dozens of miles away, but Draco had. Percy hadn’t been touched since. Just as Draco had promised. So as unrealistic as it may seem for Draco to know who did this to Harry, Percy had to believe he did.
“Okay,” he allowed, ducking his head. His posture relaxed as he submitted. “What do you need me to do?”
Draco eyed him for a long minute before nodding. He sat and finished his letter. He rolled it up and held it between his fingers, staring up at Percy through his lashes. “Mail this for me.”
Percy nodded his head. “Okay,” he said again as he accepted the parchment. “Be careful. If you get caught, you’ll end up dealing with the Aurors.”
Draco snorted. He thought very little of the magical government and its law enforcement. “Yeah. I’ll be careful.”
Percy packed up his essay, ink, and quill and put his bag over his shoulder. “I’ll go to the Owlery now.”
Draco said nothing as he watched Percy leave. He didn’t like all this doubt about his ability to protect Harry. He’d have to make sure his revenge was executed perfectly. So that everyone thought twice about attacking Harry again and so that Percy and those he intended to protect didn’t doubt him again.
…
Remus got up from the small dining nook in the cottage in Hogsmeade he’d purchased four years ago to open a window. A barn owl swooped in, a rolled up parchment in its beak.
“Hello, there,” he cooed softly, stroking its feathers.
The cottage was small: two bedrooms and a full bath upstairs, a sitting room, kitchen with attached dinning nook, and a laundry downstairs. It was set far back from High Street on the edge of the town and backed into the mountains where Hogsmeade had been placed. It was an all-magical village set above and to the south of Hogwarts. The main road led to the school on one end and ended at the train station at the other.
He made the walk to Hogwarts and the Whomping Willow every month. He could have walked to the Shrieking Shack from his cottage in minutes, but he didn’t want any of the villagers to see him go in and get suspicious, so he used the tunnel from the school. Plus, he liked to patrol the school’s boarder. It was useless. He couldn’t do much in the great scheme of things to protect anything or anyone, but his instincts still drove him to try.
It made him feel both satisfied and restless to know the boys were now so close. He unrolled the letter, wondering what Muggle things they needed now, and his smile fell. His gut clenched and he had the urge to growl. Someone had hurt Harry and Draco needed help punishing the guilty person.
He strode to the fire in the sitting room and threw the letter in. He’d leave nothing to incriminate Draco. He grabbed his jacket and house keys and strode out into the night. He had a few errands to run.
…
Harry, sweetie, I’m sorry we had to leave you so soon, but Denebola was not comfortable in Hogwarts. The longer we were there the more restless she became. Perhaps she was sensitive to the magic of the school. I can only hope she’ll either grow out of it or more in control as she gets older. It would be a shame if she could not attend.
The healer assured me you would be well and Draco promised the same. More importantly, Narcissa refused to leave your side. I knew she would make sure you are safe there. It was the only thing that made me feel comfortable enough to go. The next time I have need to come to Hogwarts, I’ll leave little Denebola with Remus in Hogsmeade.
Ted sends his love. Denebola tried to eat the edge of this parchment, so I take that to mean she also misses you. Be careful, Harry. The world is filled with troubled people. Be on your guard, but do not let it get in the way of your happiness. Draco, I know you are reading this, too. This advice goes for you as well. Don’t let this ruin your experience at Hogwarts or let it land you in trouble.
Congratulations on your Sorting to Gryffindor, both of you! And on making Seeker, Harry. The youngest in a century! And Draco as reserve! I know you two will accomplish so many great things. I’m very proud of you.
All my love,
Andromeda Tonks
Harry handed the letter to Draco and returned to his breakfast. Draco read it quickly and tucked it into his bag. Neville had written the homework due for today’s classes three times and given them each one, so that they’d be ready. They had Xylomancy, Potions theory, lunch, DADA theory, and their Charms practical. It was definitely going to be a busy day.
…
They spent the fist half of Xylomancy opening themselves to the universe and magic. Hermione and most of the boys were very suspicious and embarrassed by this process, but the other girls took it seriously. Even tomboys Fay and Kell. Harry, of course, approached all of their classes with earnest concentration while Neville was always nervous.
Draco tried his best to block out his roommate’s low level anxiety, Ron and Seamus elbowing each other, Dean’s snickering, and Hermione scoffing. He let Professor Mopsus’s deep voice roll over him.
Their professor chanted in a foreign language before transitioning to English. He asked for enlightenment and wisdom, asked that his pupils be given signs and messages that they could understand. As the minutes dragged on, the class grew more calm and slowly became still. There was a hypnotic quality to the man’s voice and it even seemed that his one blue eye seemed to glow while the brown one seemed to grow darker.
They were told to partner up and wander the grounds to look for twigs, fallen branches, or drift wood to examine. Slowly the class grew more animated as they left Professor Moss’s vicinity. They began to laugh and play. In contrast, Draco remained quiet and wandered away from the group toward the forest edge with Harry in tow.
Draco felt almost meditative. He walked with no direction, no thought. Just let impulse guide him. He felt at peace like when he got Occluding just right, but without the sense of effort or strain that it took to maintain. It was effortless.
The morning was crisp, an autumn chill in the air. Clouds hung toward the north, threatening rain. They walked in silence for several minutes, just taking everything in. They found a fallen tree limb just out of sight of the lake and Hagrid’s hut. It had fallen on a rock and the base had cracked before tumbling to the side. The leaves were dry and dying, but one side of the branch had more, the other was barren.
As Draco stared at it, he could feel something. Like the branch had fallen according to a pattern in the universe and not randomly. It felt significant in a weird way. As if from a distance he could hear Harry drawing what they had found as best he could in the Muggle notebook Remus had mailed them that morning. Minutes passed and Draco continued to stare enraptured. Eventually Harry began to quietly flip through their textbook, trying to look up meanings that matched the branch they had found.
“The rock represents conflict,” Draco whispered lowly, almost as if he were half-asleep. “There are two paths from that conflict. One that leads to…” He groped for the word, but it wouldn’t come. Instead he gestured at the thin, naked twigs on the leafless half of the branch. “The other is more… full of possibility.” He gestured at the side of the branch that still had leaves, dying as they were.
“Very good, young Malfoy,” Professor Mopsus walked up the hill and stopped at their side. He also stared at the branch. “It is clear one path is more favorable than the other,” he agreed, voice low and soothing.
Draco nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you, Professor.” He gave a respectful bow of his head and took Harry’s hand.
The bell had sounded. Class was over.
…
Hermione was very surprised when Neville quietly asked to use the individual desk in Potions. It wasn’t a practical, it was only theory, but Neville wanted to make it clear that he was studying hard as Draco had told him. The image of Draco’s scar haunted him. He was desperate to get that weight off his chest, to breathe freely again. He didn’t deserve to and he was bound to mess it all up, but he couldn’t help striving for forgiveness anyway.
Ron was equally surprised when a huffy Hermione came to be his partner. He stared at her like she had three heads or something until she gave him a glare that could have melted a glass cauldron. He quickly turned his attention to the lecture and his notes after that.
As the class wore on, he grew increasingly uncomfortable and aggravated. The girl kept making soft tsking noises and would reach over to actually draw an X over some of his words because he got the note wrong. It was aggravating as hell. He could fix his notes later himself, thanks! She made him feel like an idiot, so he of course hated her by the end of class. He shoved everything messily into his bag, glared at her when she opened her mouth to lecture him, and stormed out of the class.
Draco stared as the flushed and embarrassed Hermione snapped at Neville to, “Hurry up!” He frowned. The girl was clearly upset and he didn’t like how that threw Neville off balance. The boy began to stutter and actually tripped over his own shoe lace in the hall, spilling his things everywhere. Draco tensed to intervene, but instead of screaming at the flustered boy, Hermione dropped to her knees and helped him clean up with tears on her cheeks.
Draco hurried Harry past them, preventing him from helping. He knew that would only make Hermione more embarrassed and likely piss her off again.
Draco sent Harry on to the table with the order to cool Ron down if he could and waited for the twins. He didn’t have to wait long. He gave the teens a friendly smile and asked, “Can I talk to you a moment before lunch?”
“Of course,” George answered ecstatically.
“You’re our favorite trouble-maker, after all,” Fred agreed with a huge grin.
They pulled him into a broom closet a few doors down from the Great Hall. Draco brushed his hair out of his eyes, sandwiched between the two Third-years. His chest was pressed up against George’s chest while Fred pressed up close to his back.
“What can we do for you?” Fred asked, giggling.
“Isn’t so tight in here when it’s just us,” George admitted ruefully.
“He looked smaller before we crammed him in here with us,” Fred agreed and rested his chin on the top of Draco’s head.
Draco shrugged him off as best he could. “I have a revenge plan in play, but I had to make a little adjustment. Instead of having it go off in the Great Hall, it needs to happen in the Slytherin Common room. I got a few friends who can help me with opening the portrait, but do you have any advice on how to get there from Gryffindor Tower and not get caught? The portraits are all more alert than normal. I never see them sleeping now.”
“Dumbledore’s not messing around,” George said wryly.
“He was pretty furious that Harry was hurt,” Fred sighed and leaned as far back as he could, trying to give the blond space.
“You should have heard his lecture Saturday night at dinner…” George trailed off and met Fred’s eyes. Silent communication passed between them.
Draco waited impatiently. It was getting hot crammed in here with these two.
“Should we, Forge?” George finally asked out loud.
“I think we should, Gred,” Fred agreed.
“We haven’t even let our dorm mates see what we’re going to show you,” George whispered, staring intently down into Draco’s eyes.
“You gotta swear to keep it secret,” Fred added and gripped Draco’s shoulders tightly.
The flashback came hard and fast, nearly making him throw up, but before it could come clear, the spell Snape had taught him snapped into place, distancing him from the memory and giving him back control.
Draco forced himself to stay still. It felt like all the air had been knocked out of his lungs. Sweat beaded his face, his hands shook, and he felt nauseous as all hell, but he could hide it. “Of course. I swear I’ll never reveal what you show me,” he promised after a few seconds, voice even.
“That room you go to with Percy sometimes. Go there tonight. Midnight,” George whispered and burst out of the closet with dramatic force.
Fred tumbled after his twin, laughing and carrying on.
Draco stepped over the brooms and mops calmly, but his face was pale.
Harry knew something wasn’t right without Draco saying a word. He hovered at Draco’s side and became loud and friendly, drawing everyone’s attention away from Draco’s withdrawn, disconnected behavior.
Draco made it through lunch, DADA, and Charms. He even made it through dinner, but he could feel his control slipping. The spell wouldn’t last much longer. Harry made a big deal about his stomach hurting after eating almost half a pie all by himself during dessert, giving Draco the perfect chance to disappear with Harry up in their room.
The others laughed and Draco smiled indulgently, leading Harry away. Harry had managed to whisper in Neville’s ear during dinner, asking him to give them an hour or so before he came up to bed. The boy had agreed.
Draco collapsed to his knees just inside their dorm room. He hugged his torso, his control slipping as a violent and painful memory trembled deep in his mind, ready to consume him. Harry didn’t try to touch him. He knelt at Draco’s side and spoke lowly, softly.
“You’re okay, Draco. No one’s going to hurt you. You’re safe now. I’m here…”
Draco gave a full body shudder and curled over his knees, forehead pressing hard into the floor. He bit his lip hard enough to make it bleed, trying to keep in his screams… He was there. In the Hold. In the dark, damp swaying. Men came barreling down the stairs. They never came down. Not since Draco had taken over. They were fast, but strangely quiet.
They pried up boards that made up the floor, revealing dark squares. Like tiny coffins. The men gagged the crying children. Tied their hands behind their backs. Tied their ankles. Then they started shoving the tussed-up kids into the holes before putting the boards back into place. Shutting them in.
Draco was yanked forward. He stared with empty eyes as his hands were quickly and efficiently bound. He knew what was coming. His heart hammered in his chest. The bruises and welts felt icy cold against his skin. His ankles were tied. The gag came toward his face. No. Not that. He already couldn’t breathe. His chest was tight with terror. The smell of piss filled the air. A few kids had wet themselves in fear. He shook his head as the gag pressed at his mouth.
The man grabbed a fistful of his hair and brought their faces together. “You make a sound. The smallest sound. I’ll take you apart piece by bloody, screaming piece,” he growled, his breath hot and heavy against Draco’s face.
Then he was grabbed by his shoulders from behind. The grip tight and heavy. He was shoved in the box with three other kids. Skin against his, warm, wet, wiggling. Pressed in tight. An elbow in his gut, hands scratching at his hip, a knee pressed against his balls, his cheek against a boy’s shoulder, the rub of a girl’s gag rough against his back. They were all naked and terrified. The boards came down and it went pitch black.
He could hear the muffled gasps of the kids pressed against him, on him, beneath him. Feel it as if they were his own. Every breath was a struggle, their lungs labored around him. Piss dripped on his skin, stung his marks. Draco didn’t make a sound.
His hands worked, dug into skin, drew blood, as if trying to claw his way out, but they were useless, bound at the small of his back, pressed into another kid’s body. The girl behind him strained against him. He could taste her panic, her terror. She thrashed as much as she could with being pressed in so tight. Then she went rigid and then still.
Draco shuddered. He knew. Knew she was dead. He gulped in the tainted air. It felt thinner. He couldn’t breathe. Oh god get him out of here he couldn’t breathe he was going to die get them off get them off me god please…
“… please come back. I’m right here, Draco. With you. You’re okay. You’re safe…”
Harry’s voice. Draco slowly cracked open his eyes. He realized he was digging his forehead into the rug, his arms wrapped tight around him as he curled into a painful ball on the floor. His face was soaked with tears and sweat. His clothes clung to his body. Muscles stiff, he carefully uncurled and gasped in air, desperate to breathe again. He was shaking.
Harry lovingly helped him to his feet and stripped him of his clothes. He wrapped Draco in a robe and towed him to the bathroom. There, Harry washed him in cool water before bundling him back up and taking him back to their room. Neville was there. He watched them worriedly, but he didn’t say anything. Only Harry’s soft sweet voice filled the room. Talking about nothing, just a soft voice in the darkness.
Draco was pulled into bed. When he tensed at Harry’s touch, the boy carefully gave him enough space so they wouldn’t touch during the night. Numb, Draco fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. He never made a sound.
Chapter end
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Freedom Bound in Chains