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
- 72
- 73
- 74
The End of September
Severus stepped near silently into the Headmaster’s darkened office.
“Severus, my boy, any new leads?” Dumbledore asked quietly.
It was late, the Headmaster’s office cloaked in shadows and stillness. Dumbledore stood out the most in the room with his glowing white hair and beard. He sounded tired and yet alert. Severus stepped silently up to the massive desk and placed his hands at the small of his back.
“The snakes were all non-poisonous species. They’d been cursed to create an intense burning sensation and illness with every bite. They had also been spelled to attack a single target, likely from something of Pucey’s - an item of clothing or even blood or hair. The curse would have degraded over time. Pucey was in no real danger of death, only acute suffering. Malfoy has neither the skill nor the means to collect the snakes and then curse them. However, the spell I found on the door is well within Malfoy’s ability. It is my belief that someone provided the boy with the supplies and instructions to set the trap. How he managed to get around the portraits and the password to the common room is still unclear.”
Dumbledore said nothing for a long minute. His face was in shadow so Severus couldn’t get a clear look at his expression. However, his tone was grave when he spoke. “Did you look into his mind, Severus? Do you know for certain he is guilty?”
Severus tilted his head slightly as he considered his answer. “If you are speaking of Pucey, yes. He was guilty. He did not intend to murder Potter, but he did intend great bodily harm. As for the Malfoy brat… Lucius must have trained him. There were the beginnings of Occlumency shields in his mind. I dared not try and surpass them for fear of alerting the brat to my ability. Weasley was genuinely oblivious.”
Dumbledore sighed tiredly once more, settling deeper into the dark as he leaned back in his chair. “Thank you, Severus.”
Severus waited for further comment or instruction. When none was forthcoming, he turned on his heel and left the old wizard to his thoughts. Personally, he was of two minds regarding the whole incident.
On one hand, he had to admire Draco’s cunning. His ability to formulate the plan, contact the people he needed to make it happen, and then execute it successfully had been flawless. There was no legal way for the Headmaster to prove it had been him. Just as there had been no legal means to prove it had been Pucey. He also admired the fact that Draco would do whatever it took to protect Harry.
On the other hand… Severus felt cold. He knew without a doubt that this boy of eleven years was capable of murder. Whoever had helped them had made sure the snakes would harm but not kill. Had that person not taken that step, Pucey could well be dead right now. Beyond that, the attack had been designed to leave severe psychological damage in its wake. Children had witnessed the brutal attack and had been traumatized. Some would still not enter the common room and were being housed in guest quarters temporarily until their fear could be calmed.
It was clear to Severus: Draco was not a child in the way people thought of children. He was a killer. It was dangerous housing him with other children. It was dangerous leaving Harry in his care. However, war was brewing on the horizon. Realistically speaking, a killer was exactly what they needed to end the Dark Lord for good and keep Harry alive. Severus would just have to remain watchful and protect the children as much as he could.
…
Draco was very careful to maintain an aloof demeanor the week following Pucey’s brutal attack. He made sure to craft the perfect amount of ambivalence so that there was never enough certainty to get him in trouble and equally not enough doubt to erase their fear of him. Between the scars seen on his back, the stories of his gruesome treatment for the potion burn (and his lack of screaming), and Pucey’s attack, Draco was quite pleased with the respect and fear he had garnered. It put a small spring in his step that he couldn’t hide completely.
Besides his victorious re-claiming of Harry, he’d only indulged in two small celebrations. For the first, he had softly bumped Percy’s shoulder the day the details of the attack had finally begun spreading to the rest of the school. Draco had given the redhead a meaningful look, lips curled in a subtle smirk. Percy had shaken his head, but Draco could tell his shoulders sat straighter. Victorious, Draco had hummed happily the rest of that night, knowing he’d put the teen’s mind at ease and had proven his ability to protect who was his.
For the second, he had written a letter to Remus.
Remus,
Thank you. You’re amazing at explaining stuff. Your tips on that spell were really useful. I’m definitely going to pass the test now. Harry’s feeling much better, too. Actually, the kid who our friend thinks did it was attacked a few days ago in the Slytherin common room. There’s rumors Hogwarts did it to punish him for nearly killing Harry. Do you think that’s possible? Whoever did it, I don’t think the kid will be hurting anyone anytime soon. The whole school will think twice about hurting Harry now. Some people even think I did it. Can you believe it? How could an eleven-year-old manage something like that? Well, at least its made people back off Harry and me. Even the bullies in Gryffindor I was telling you about. So you don’t have to worry about us anymore. We’re safe now. Thanks again, Remus. You were really helpful. We’ll write again soon,
Draco
…
Remus had been in a state of constant anxiety until Draco’s letter had come winging to him on Hedwig’s silent wings. He smiled down at the unusually long note. Harry was known to write a lot; Draco usually kept things short and concise. He could practically feel the boy’s victorious exhilaration in the rambling words. He could also sense the boy’s gratitude and care. Remus almost felt like preening. The tension from the last few days fell from his shoulders. The bully had been put in his place, Harry was now safer than ever, and no one had gotten killed. They had won.
Remus leaned back in his chair, tipping it onto its back legs as he laughed. He wished James, Sirius, and Peter were here to… The thought brought his joy crashing to a halt. His chair fell with a loud thud back to all fours. He steeled his heart as pain rushed in. The urge to tip his head back and howl was strong, and he shook his head hard to clear it. He lifted the letter and brought it to his nose, inhaling deeply. He had a new pack now. Draco was pleased with him and Harry was safe. That’s all that mattered.
As the pain bled away, Remus stood with purpose and walked to the kitchen stove. He pulled his wand from his pocket and lit the burners. With gold-flecked amber eyes, he set the letter on the flame and watched it burn.
…
Just as he’d told Remus, the other students began to give Draco a lot more space, which gave him plenty of room to spy on Quirrell. He hadn’t forgotten for a moment the threat the professor posed. Every DADA class, every time he and Harry came too close in the halls, Harry’s head would spike with a dull pain originating from his scar that wouldn’t fade until distance was put between them.
Draco slipped away from the group to spy on him as much as possible and borrowed the map as much as the twins would let him. He watched Quirrell’s footsteps, made note of the places he visited most frequently, the people he talked to most often. He seemed as innocent as Percy claimed, but Draco wasn’t fooled. Then he asked to borrow the map overnight.
The twins had resisted at first, but Draco had managed to convince them, swearing he only wanted to see something and didn’t want to bother them in the middle of the night to check the map.
Fred handed the precious parchment over with an unusually stern look. “Don’t you dare go sneaking off with it. Stay in your room like you promised.”
“Or we’ll be out for blood,” George finished the threat. “We can’t afford to have it confiscated.”
“I swear,” Draco promised, meeting their eyes. He would never endanger such an important asset. He just wanted to see what Quirrell did throughout the night.
Just as promised, he curled up against the headboard of his and Harry’s bed, curtains cracked to let in the lamp light. Harry’s head sat heavy with sleep in his lap. He stroked the soft hair under his hand and settled in to watch.
Sleep tugged at him as the first few hours rolled by, but Draco pushed through that easily. He was obsessed with discovering the man’s secret, with understanding the exact nature of the threat he posed. Nearing two in the morning, Draco perked up, registering that something was happening.
Quirrell’s name… It began to blur at the edges. Excess ink began to darken around the letters in the man’s name, as if it were bleeding. Draco stared, unblinking, as Quirrell’s name became such a mess of ink that it became illegible for nearly an hour. During that hour, his dot remained smack in the middle of the forbidden third-floor corridor.
The ink bled away a little after three, Quirrell’s name became clear again, as the man returned to his quarters at last.
“He’s after whatever Dumbledore’s protecting,” Draco whispered, fingers clenched in Harry’s hair.
Should he tell Dumbledore Quirrell was snooping around? Dumbledore had to know someone kept going to the third-floor corridor, right? Maybe he even knew it was Quirrell already. But what the hell had happened with his name? In the short time that Draco had known about the map, he’d never seen anything like that.
As for Dumbledore, there was no benefit yet to tipping his hand and admitting he knew more than he should. It would only force Draco into explaining how he knew stuff. He didn’t want to lose such powerful advantages so early in the game.
Besides, Dumbledore was actively protecting whatever it was, so Draco had to trust that those defenses would hold. In the meantime, he still had to figure out Quirrell’s connection to Voldemort because there was one there beyond a shadow of a doubt. If Draco played his hand just right, he could maybe get some information about Voldemort’s location, current condition, or maybe even some of Voldemort’s weaknesses.
Draco kept watch the rest of the night, but Quirrell stayed in his rooms unmoving. Harry began stirring just before six and Draco smiled warmly as the boy pushed himself to his knees to face him.
Draco reached forward, cupping Harry’s sweet face, and left butterfly kisses across his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, and eyelids. “Good morning, Harry,” he murmured.
- pleasure love warmth - “Morning, Draco.”
Draco deactivated the map and tucked it away. Harry knew about it and what it did, and he knew of course that Quirrell was bad due to the headaches and that Draco was keeping an eye on things, but he didn’t need to know about Quirrell trying to get whatever Dumbledore was hiding or about the way his name bled into a glob like it had. There was nothing Harry could do about either and Draco wasn’t going to worry him unnecessarily.
Harry chose their clothes for the day and they got dressed quietly so as not to disturb Neville. They were just about to head to the common room to get some studying done when Neville sat up with a yawn and blinked sleepy brown eyes.
“Good morning…” he said softly.
“Good morning, Neville,” Harry greeted. He gave him a worried look. “I’m sorry. Did we wake you?”
“No. I, uh, wanted to ask you something. Before you, um, left.” A slight blush dusted the other boy’s cheeks. His hands tangled together in a show of nerves. “Um, I was, um, wondering if you would come to d-dinner with me tonight, here in the, um, common room to celebrate H-Hermione’s b-birthday…” he trailed off into a whisper, eyes pleading.
Draco considered the request. For the last week, since their fight in the common room, Draco and Hermione had taken to pretending the other wasn’t there, even if they were walking next to each other or sitting across from each other at meals.
“I-I haven’t r-really…” Neville stuttered quickly, clearly taking Draco’s thoughtful silence as reluctance or refusal, “tried to, um, do a birthday for someone else before. H-Hermione wasn’t a-adopted until last, uh, December, so this is the first b-birthday I’ve been able to, um, celebrate with her and I w-want it to be special because she, um, really made me feel s-special on my b-birthday in July…”
Harry gave an excited smile. “My birthday is in July, too. July 31st.” He glanced at Draco for confirmation. He’d had six birthdays so far and it still felt unreal that he’d even have one like everyone else.
Neville’s eyes widened and he smiled, some of his nerves falling away. “Mine’s July 30th.”
Draco shook his head fondly at the two smiling boys. He put his hand on top of Harry’s head and ruffled his hair, saying, “We’d love to join you, Neville. Hermione and I may not always get along, but we’re friends.”
Neville’s eyes went wide once more. “T-Thank you, Draco!”
Draco inclined his head and tugged Harry to the door. “I’ll leave the details to you, then.”
“O-Of course! I’ll make sure everything is ready!” Neville called as Harry pulled the door shut behind them.
Draco asked Harry to keep him awake throughout the day and the boy dutifully poked and prodded the blond when it looked like Draco’s eyes were getting too heavy. It wasn’t really the ideal time to try and make-up with Hermione, but when was life ever ideal anyway? Grumpy and grumbling, Draco nonetheless arrived in the common room dressed in what Harry had picked out: a silk, white shirt and blue blazer with red cuffs that was tailored to fit him perfectly.
Harry had also dressed up. He’d chosen his black lace, high-heeled shoes, thigh-high silk socks with slender semi-elastic bands encircling his thighs to hold them up, black pleated shorts, dark blue shirt, black vest, and thin bow tie with the loops hanging nearly halfway down his chest.
Draco reached out to thumb the line on Harry’s soft thigh where skin ended and silk began. “You look amazing,” he whispered, voice husky, eyes heavy.
Harry blushed prettily. “Thank you, Draco.” He looked up through his long lashes. “You look amazing, too.”
Draco gave a soft laugh and took his boy by the hand, leading him to the common room.
Neville and Hermione were already there. Neville had pulled a table in front of the fire and covered it with white tablecloth. He pushed four chairs up to it. They didn’t match of course, some were higher than others, but it was cozy.
Hermione looked up at them in surprise when she saw them come down. She’d thought they had already gone to dinner and it would just be her and Neville. Her eyes grew even wider when she saw that they were dressed up. “Harry! You look… Wow!” she exclaimed, cheeks red.
Draco smirked as Harry smiled happily.
“Thank you. You look nice, too, Hermione. Happy birthday,” he said politely, giving the girl a graceful bow.
Neville blushed in shame, wishing he’d thought to dress up. He’d been so focused on dinner, he hadn’t even thought to put on his dress robes. He glanced at Hermione out of the corner of his eye and thought maybe it was okay that he hadn’t dressed up because Hermione hadn’t either and he knew she was sensitive about being different or the odd-one out. They both wore comfortable sweaters; Neville in his school slacks, Hermione in a knee-length skirt. Hermione had also pulled her hair back into a low ponytail, revealing more of her face than she normally did.
“Happy birthday, Hermione,” Draco echoed and gave a half-bow that was just as graceful as Harry’s if not as deep.
Hermione was too surprised to answer.
Neville beamed happily at them. “Thank you for coming. Have a seat.”
Hermione and Neville were already sitting across from each other, so Draco and Harry separated and sat in the remaining chairs. As soon as they were sitting, four soups and sets of silverware appeared before them.
“I spoke to the House Elves,” Neville confessed.
“It’s my favorite,” Hermione murmured, carefully lifting the spoon.
“I think that’s going to be a theme tonight,” Draco told her dryly, a smirk curling the corners of his mouth.
Hermione ducked her head, smiling. “True.”
They ate mostly quietly. They shared a few murmured comments about school work, but that was about it. Halfway through the main course, Draco rolled his eyes. There was a huge elephant in the room and Draco was sick of avoiding it.
“So, Hermione, what did you usually do for your birthday before coming to Hogwarts?” He met her surprised eyes with a serious stare.
A heavy silence fell around them before Hermione straightened her shoulders. “I didn’t have many friends, so my parents would usually take me on a vacation for a few days. I had such good grades, I could always make up any work from school later. We’d go to France or Spain. Somewhere in Europe anyway.” She spoke in a strong voice, but her lips trembled and her eyes grew wet. “They were really busy, you know. Because they were both doctors, so traveling for my birthday was always pretty special. They’d be in such good moods and tease me and stuff. They… they thought me pretty odd, I guess, but… I think they loved me.”
“Of course they loved you,” Neville spoke fiercely, all nervousness gone. “They were your parents.”
Hermione gave him a wobbly smile. “We… We were all pretty surprised when the Ministry came and said I was a Muggleborn. They evaluated us for a month and decided my parents wouldn’t be able to provide an environment that would nurture my magical development. They… They were made to forget me and I… I was spelled to forget their names and address… so I wouldn’t be tempted to try and go back. They couldn’t erase them completely from my mind, though, because that would be too damaging, so… I still remember them a bit. Things like traveling for my birthday, anyway…”
“How’d you end up with the Longbottoms?” Harry asked quietly. He could tell she needed to talk about it, but he didn’t want to make her feel like he was pushing. “If you don’t mind my asking?”
Hermione shook her head to tell him it was okay. “I was kept at the Ministry. In an apartment there. People came and gave me tests for a week or two. Health, magic, intelligence, personality… I guess to make a report that potential families could review. I was interviewed a few times. Madam Longbottom was one of the ones to come interview me. She must have liked something about me and put in a bid for my adoption. So did another family, but I…” She cast Neville an affectionate look. “I liked Neville. He was so shy and concerned about me, so I agreed to the Longbottom’s bid. They… They cast a spell on me and Madam Longbottom… So I’d feel at home with them. It’s like… Nothing was familiar to me, but it felt like home… They felt like family.”
Neville gave her a big happy smile. “I’m so glad you picked us,” he said earnestly. “I-It was hard before you came, but you… You made everything better. I-I really love you, Hermione.”
Hermione sniffed and came around the table to hug Neville tightly. “I really love you, too, Neville.”
Harry smiled at them, - happiness - sparkling through the bond.
Hermione pulled away from Neville and wiped at her eyes. She looked over to Draco. “Thanks for coming, Draco. I know… we don’t always get along…”
Draco shook his head, cutting her off. “We get along fine. You’re a brilliant witch, Hermione. Sometimes you don’t understand what’s between Harry and me. We’ve been through some pretty tough times, too, and that’s made us different, but I don’t expect you or anyone else to understand that. I just wish sometimes you’d trust me a little more. I’m your friend.”
Tearing up again, she gave him a big smile. Besides Neville, Harry and Draco were her first ever friends. “I’ll try and remember that.”
Draco tilted his head, mouth crocked in a half-smile. “Good. Now lets have some birthday dessert. It’s my favorite part.”
Neville and Harry giggled while Hermione laughed.
…
Draco slept like a rock, making up for the lack of sleep the day before. Harry woke him up thirty minutes before class and he still felt groggy. They didn’t bother with breakfast, instead getting dressed and heading to their first class. Low-level anxiety thrummed through the bond throughout the day. Gryffindor’s official Quidditch Try-outs were at seven that night. Draco stuck closer to Harry’s side than normal, reassuring him that he’d do fine.
It was Oliver’s first year as captain and he decided to open up each position on the team. At first, the others were pretty upset, feeling like their hard-earned place was in jeopardy, but Oliver told them that if they worked hard then they had nothing to worry about since they had more experience.
As it stood, they had last year’s Beaters, Fred and George, Oliver as Keeper and Captain, and one Chaser from last year, Angelina Johnson. Alicia Spinnet was trying out for Chaser and had played as a reserve Chaser the year before. Then there was Harry and Draco, of course, who had been recommended as Seeker and reserve Seeker by Oliver and Professor McGonagall. That left them with the third Chaser spot that had to be filled, while all the other positions need to be safeguarded from someone winning it out from under them.
Just over fifty kids showed up to try-out. Oliver had everyone run a mile, complete fifty sprints, and perform various difficult maneuvers on a broom. Those that handled quaffles or bludgers also had to prove their arm strength and accuracy. Either no one else thought they had the skill to be Seeker or they were afraid to challenge Harry and Draco because no one else applied for the position. Draco and Harry were set loose against each other.
Try-outs came to a halt as the Gryffindors stared in awe. Draco and Harry were clearly not holding back at all. Dangerous dives, rolls, and feints - the two boys battled each other for the Snitch, almost catching it several times, only to be knocked off course by the other. Eventually Harry’s hand once again closed over the golden ball. It was Draco who crashed into him this time. Their watchers tensed, expecting a fight to break out in the heat of the moment, but soon realized that Draco was rubbing Harry’s hair, congratulating him.
In the end, everyone kept their positions and Alicia was made an official Chaser along with Second-year Katie Bell. Reserve players were named and told to make it to at least three morning practices and one evening practice or be in danger of losing their spot. As for the starters, they would have practice five mornings and three evenings a week.
Sweaty, dirty, and drunk on endorphins, the group of fourteen Quidditch players chanted battle songs and cheers, arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders as they celebrated becoming an official team. They spilled into the common room and the twins snuck off to grab butterbeers and snacks from the kitchen. An impromptu party started, someone producing a radio and playing the Wizarding Wireless.
Draco, slouched on the couch, one arm across the back as he smiled at the silliness. He had to send mental reassurances as Harry was pulled into dancing with their new, rowdy teammates. * You’re doing good, Harry. You’re making everyone happy, * he whispered into Harry’s mind as worried green eyes locked onto his.
The - guilt uncertainty - that began to bubble up through the the bond slowly fizzled out to be replaced by - happy embarrassment.
…
Three days later the twenty-third of September arrived. The Autumn equinox, Mabon, when day and night, light and dark, were in perfect balance for a brief moment before darkness began to rise in supremacy. It was the first of three harvest festivals. Andromeda and Ted performed the celebrations and respected the Cycle, but not with the depth of true belief the way the Malfoys did. Narcissa and Lucius, of course, tried to pass on that belief to Draco and Harry.
Draco could acknowledge the power invoked by their rituals on the Holy Days, but he still wasn’t particularly religious. He believed in his own power above all else, so he fell more along the lines of Andromeda and Ted. Harry, on the other hand, had no trouble believing in a power greater than himself and had embraced the Pagan religion more earnestly. Therefore, Draco inquired of Percy how celebrations were handled at Hogwarts.
Percy glanced around the busy hallway at Draco’s innocent question. None of the students around them seemed to have heard, too busy making their way to the Great Hall for lunch. Percy gently grabbed Draco’s arm, pulling him toward an empty classroom.
Draco let himself be guided, mentally giving Harry the instructions to stay close to the others and save him a seat.
Percy pushed up his glasses and gave Draco a curious look. “Since you weren’t raised in the Wizarding world, I didn’t think you’d be Pagan.”
Draco shrugged. “I’m not really, but Harry practices.”
Percy leaned against a desk. Draco mirrored him, placing one foot outside Percy’s right foot and the other on the floor between the teen’s long legs. Percy had that thoughtful look that he sometimes got when he was trying to understand something complicated.
“We have two weeks off for Yule and a week off for Ostara, the Spring Solstice, to return to our families, but there are no official celebrations at Hogwarts besides feasts days on both Samhain and the Winter Solstice, which most still call Christmas. Many witches and wizards have adapted a weird blend of the Pagan and Christian faiths. Most families that I know of don't attend church regularly, but they don’t identify themselves as Pagan, either. True Paganism isn’t socially acceptable. It’s believed to lead to the Dark as it was the Dark families who resisted the conversion to Christianity. They continued to practice the Old Ways and often lashed out at Christians, which triggered the Witch Burnings that turned the Church against magic-users in general.”
Draco didn’t really understand all of what Percy was saying, but he did have a question. “Your family holds small festivals on the Holy Days.”
“Yes, most witches and wizards still have Pagan traditions and rituals. It’s a part of our magical history, but they still mostly identify as Christian. It depends on each individual family where they fall on the Pagan to Christian scale, some are more Pagan, some more Christian in terms of their practices. It’s rare to find either true Pagans or true Christians anymore really.”
Draco thought of being tied to a bed with Latin being chanted over him as he was burned and tortured for being demonic. He definitely didn’t believe in the Christian god. He’d seen nothing to validate that belief. On the other hand, he had experienced the power invoked in the deep woods, so if he had to choose, he’d definitely say he was Pagan.
On the whole, completing the rituals didn’t matter to him one way or the other. It wouldn’t change anything. Harry, however, had grown very devoted. He’d found peace and solace in the rituals. It comforted him to know that they were a part of something bigger, connected and interdependent to all life. Comforted him to know that he was a part of that web just as all living things were.
It infuriated Draco. Would the world that Harry took such joy in ever stop forcing Draco to have to prove to Harry that he wasn’t a freak, wasn’t bad? Harry was submissive and gay and Pagan. Things that the world would reject and scorn him for. It made Draco’s hatred for society burn deeper and brighter. It made him want to clear the board and create a society that would welcome all that Harry was.
Draco wasn’t stupid. He didn’t have that power, and clearing the board would only devastate Harry. Harry was forever attached to people and things. Instead, Draco would have to see about changing the board he did have to play with.
“What are you thinking?” Percy asked quietly, fascinated by the look of intense concentration on Draco’s face.
Draco lifted his eyes, looking up through a thin lock of blond hair that had fallen from behind his ears. “Weighing Harry’s social favor against how much it would cost to make it public that he’s Pagan…”
Percy’s eyes widened and offered. “I don’t think Harry being Pagan will change peoples minds about it. Not while he's still so young. They’ll think he’s being influenced, probably by the Malfoys.”
Draco nodded, clearly unhappy. “The Malfoy name is in good standing right now with the public, but Lucius garnered a lot of heat during the war. If it comes out he’s raising us as Pagans, people will remember their suspicions. So…” He pressed off the desk and stood in front of Percy. Now that his decision had been made, he looked confident again. The regret that had shaded his eyes was gone. “So we’ll have to keep it mostly secret for now. I’ll have to convince Harry he’s not bad. Again. But he’ll be okay. At least until I can figure out a way to change what people think about it.”
Percy bowed his head, in awe over this boy’s determination and utter confidence that he could change the world. “I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
Draco reached forward and gently stroked Percy’s arm from shoulder to elbow before turning and slipping out of the room. He didn’t head toward the Great Hall, however. Instead he hurried to the owlery to pen a quick note before rushing back down to rejoin Harry.
Hermione rolled her eyes as Harry’s face lit up with delight at Draco’s return. Draco was always disappearing. It drove her crazy that she couldn’t figure it out, but it also made her less suspicious about Draco’s involvement with the attack on Pucey. Clearly Draco was involved in some other project. She still thought he had something to do with it, though, but she’d learned to keep her questions to herself.
There was only ten minutes left of lunch, but Harry had made Draco a sandwich, ready for whenever Draco returned. Draco scooped it up and ate it with slow but determined focus. Talk picked up again around them.
They had all learned by now that asking him what he’d been doing was a waste of time. In fact, Draco’s strange comings and goings were so normal, most of them didn’t even bat and eye. Only Hermione seemed bothered by it and she glared at Draco until the bell rang and they had to make their way to their next class.
That night, at the end of dinner, Hedwig swooped through the windows of the Great Hall and delivered a letter to Harry. Harry stared at her in surprise. He cooed and stroked her feathers, handing her choice pieces of meat, while Draco untied the parchment attacked to her leg.
“Who’s it from?” Hermione asked, trying to see the label.
Draco stared her down, making her flush and glare in frustration, before relenting. “Hagrid. Wants Harry to visit. Has something to show him. We’ll be back by curfew.” He ignored everyone’s questioning stares and offers to join them, took Harry firmly by the hand, and led him away.
The air had a cool bite to it and Draco was glad he’d told Harry to pack sweaters int their bags. They stopped a moment to pull them on, putting their school robes back on after. The mountains stood majestically around them, the forest a living thing that cast its shadow over the green hills. Hagrid’s hut sat next to a massive pumpkin patch, the pumpkins already round and fat, promising to grow even fatter. Hagrid opened his door at their nock and beamed down at them joyfully.
“Arry! Draco!” he boomed. “Come in!”
Draco hustled Harry inside and saw that everything he’d asked for in his note was there: candles, apples, a sharp knife, a goblet and a bottle of wine. “Thank you for celebrating with us, Hagrid.”
The giant man reached out and patted Draco’s head with delicate force. “It’s no problem, boys. Glad I could help.”
- love devotion gratitude - Harry couldn’t believe Draco had set this up. He knew it was for him.
In that moment, Harry felt such love for the blond that he didn’t really know what to do with the feeling. It spilled over his cheeks in the form of tears. Draco gave Harry a silver-eyed look, focused purely on him, and it made Harry warm to his toes, a shiver tickling his spine.
Harry accepted the apples that were set in his arms and watched as Draco took the knife and goblet. Hagrid took up the eight candles and wine. Together they made their way into the forest where no one from the castle could easily see them. Draco had explained that these rituals were private, done with family only. Harry wondered how many other kids were out here, making their own offerings in the privacy of the night.
Hagrid led them to a small clearing where a tree had fallen and left a break in the canopy. It let them see the sky, which had turned a beautiful pale orange as the sun began to set. Draco and Harry got busy setting the candles in a circle around them. One to each of the four corners - north, east, south, west - and the cross-corners - northeast, southeast, southwest, northwest.
“Take the lead, Harry,” Draco commanded softly.
Harry opened his mouth to protest - I’m not worthy!
“I need it to be you,” Draco whispered, silver eyes glinting in the dying light.
Harry straightened his spine. Anything for Draco!
He looked to see Hagrid waiting with a still patience that so few people had. He watched them with gentle, accepting eyes.
Harry took a deep breath and set the apples in front of the west candle, toward setting sun. He accepted the goblet and wine and set them to either side. He then handed Draco and Hagrid each an apple.
“Please stand behind me,” Harry asked softly, head ducked humbly.
Hagrid and Draco obediently took positions behind Harry as the boy faced west. Harry took the long match Draco struck and turned to his right, beginning to light the candles in a clockwise direction, opening their circle and making it come to life.
“Today is Mabon, a spiritual day that marks the Autumn equinox. A day when Light and Dark, Day and Night, are in perfect balance,” he began, voice low and rhythmic. The forest seemed to still around them, a gentle, listening presence. “It is a day to renew wards, to be thankful for all the blessings in our lives, and to prepare for the darkness of the winter months.”
Harry lit the last candle, the west candle, the flame of the match singeing the tips of his fingers. “While we celebrate the gifts of the earth, we also accept that the soil is dying. We have food to eat, but the crops are going dormant. Warmth is behind us, cold lies ahead.”
A breeze whispered through the trees. The shadows grew darker. A barely there electric hum settled in their bones and blood. Harry closed his eyes and tried to find that place Narcissa summoned with her words, her belief. When he spoke again, his voice had taken on the cadence of ritual, almost like a song.
“The apple is sacred, a symbol of the gods, and holds the knowledge of the ancients inside.” He bent and took an apple into his hands, lifting it on two cupped palms, presenting it to the west. “Tonight, I ask the gods to bless me with their wisdom.”
The wind blew, cold and stinging as Harry gracefully sank into a kneel. Draco passed him the knife and Harry brought it up, the edge glinting silver, reminding him of Draco. He brought the knife down in a smooth arc, neatly cutting the apple in half. The smell of apples filled the clearing, more than could be explained by simply cutting one apple.
“Five points in a star, hidden inside. One for earth, one for air, one for fire, one for water, and the last for spirit.” Lifting his hands, Harry offered each half, flesh facing upward, revealing the black seeds set in that powerful star-shaped pattern. “I call upon the Wise Ones, the ancient gods to hear my devout prayer. As the sun moves away and fire fades to be replaced with the chill of night, I will reflect on the guidance of the gods and let the cool autumn rains that come wash over me, cleansing my heart and soul.”
“We call upon the Wise Ones,” Draco echoed. He took a bite of his apple and then set it in front of Harry and the wildly flickering candle. Hagrid mimicked him, eyes bright and attentive.
A deep thrumming could just barely be felt under their feet. Something ancient and powerful stirring to life. They could almost hear the forest breathe like something alive.
Harry tilted this head back, eyes closed as he took in the energies around him, basked in the feeling of the universe acknowledging their offerings and prayers. In that moment, tenuous and precious, they were connected to something greater and Harry’s heart filled with soul-deep gratitude for all he’d been given.
Slowly, eyes opening, he picked up the wooden goblet. His other hand poured the wine, filling it, letting it overflow and soak into earth beneath his knees. “The Wild God returns this night to the belly of the Mother. The mother goddess tonight becomes the Crone. As the Wheel of the Year turns, the earth dies a bit each day. I willingly follow the old gods into the darkness, where they will watch over me, protect me, and keep me safe.”
True dark slid over their clearing. Hagrid looked around in amazement as he felt something soft and yet implacable settle around his shoulders. Draco bore the weight easily, eyes fastened on Harry’s thin back, watching as his boy brought the cup to his lips and drank, watched as that slender throat swallowed.
Green eyes, glowing faintly in the dimness of oncoming night, turned and met his own. Draco grinned, fierce and powerful, and accept the goblet. He stared unblinking into those unearthly green eyes as he drank from the cup. A woodsy, rich flavor rolled over his tongue. It felt warm and unexpectedly thick, like honey. The aftertaste became metallic, like blood. It only made Draco grin wider as he passed the drink to Hagrid.
The large man drank, handing the goblet back to Harry when he was done. Harry, still on his knees, had to look away from Draco to accept it, but he could still feel the blond’s eyes on him. It set every nerve in his body alight.
“Wise Ones, old gods, I thank you for Draco, his protection and care,” Harry said with such raw honesty it made Draco harden in his pants.
“I’m thankful that I have Harry,” Draco echoed, holding his boy’s eyes, promising him the bite of teeth and the heat of passion. Harry whimpered in response.
“I’m thankful that I got a place to belong and friends to share it with,” Hagrid boomed, grin white and force in his wild, dark beard, his beetle-black eyes glittering.
Tears rolled down Harry’s face, overcome with a joy so powerful, he almost wanted to scream. Instead, he lifted his hands and yelled joyously into the night, “The Wild God has gone to rest in the Underworld. I look to the darkness for renewal and rebirth!” He dug his fingers into the wine-damp earth and lifted them up high. “Earth, symbol of security and stability, bring peace and harmony into my home this season of thanksgiving. May the earth, the soil, the land, ground me and protect me and those whom I love and to whom I belong. As I will, so it shall be!”
Harry poured the rest of the wine over the west candle, extinguishing it. Simultaneously, the remaining seven candles went out with a hiss. Harry arched his back as an electric current ran up his spine from the ground. His magic sparked and crackled deep in his core in response. Hagrid’s gasp and Draco’s soft exhale told him they were feeling it, too. Their offering had been accepted. They were being blessed!
The smell of apples, wine, and blood rose again, saturating the air. Energy danced along their nerves, tugged at their hair. The trees swayed in a sudden gust, almost echoing Harry’s wild cry.
Panting, Harry lowered his arms, expression exuberant, cheeks red and damp, eyes unnaturally bright. “Thank you for celebrating with me,” he told them.
Draco, grinning, swooped Harry up into his arms, bringing the smaller boy back to his feet. He almost kissed him right there, but Hagrid’s presence stopped him. “You did amazing,” he said instead, voice rough with desire. * Love you, Harry. Want you. *
Harry flushed, his face turning red - desire need joy.
“That was incredible,” Hagrid agreed. He bounced on the tips of his toes, energized.
It took them only a few minutes to clean up. They said goodbye to Hagrid, Draco and Harry again thanking him for helping with the ritual. Hagrid waved them off and they walked back to the castle with Harry wrapped in Draco’s arms.
Draco made sure they were out of sight before pushing Harry up against a courtyard wall and ravaging his mouth. Harry was sweet and pliant, opening to Draco readily, a needy whine rising softly in the back of his throat. Draco mentally ordered the boy silent as he sank to his knees and opened Harry’s pants, taking the thin, stiff member into his blazing hot mouth.
It didn’t take long… Harry’s head was flung back against the wall, his mouth gaping open silently as he sucked in one breath and another, his nails clawing at stone… He came, eyes squeezing shut as stars erupted behind his eyes. Slowly he sank, his robes hissing as they dragged against the wall. He dropped to his knees, trembling and dizzy.
Draco sat back on his butt, legs spread wide, and practically tore his pants open, gripping himself with almost bruising force.
“Please?” Harry begged prettily, long lashes fluttering over still-dazed eyes.
Draco shivered, hand falling away, eyes staring at Harry with almost primal hunger. “Yes, Harry,” he groaned. “Come here.”
Harry crawled across the few inches that separated them and licked up Draco’s stiff shaft. The feel and flavor of Draco’s warm, soft/hard skin made him whimper-moan. He closed his lips around the tip and slid sensually down Draco’s shaft.
Harry whimpered again as Draco grabbed him roughly by the hair and began lifting his head up and pushing it down at a quick pace - satisfaction pleasure need. He closed this eyes and sucked hard, loving the feel of Draco’s dick sliding along the inside of his cheeks and the roof of his mouth. Loved the way it tapped at the back of his throat.
Draco gave a short, barked cry as pleasure rolled over him, crashing like a wave, setting his body on fire. Harry moaned long and deep, eyes fluttering closed - pleasure joy - singing through his soul as Draco gave a growl and Harry felt the splash of the blond’s pleasure across the back of his throat and tongue.
Their magic rolled out into the night, a rippling wave that made the energies of the night sparkle and come to life. Golden flecks of light, like dancing fireflies, exploded in a shower of sparkles across Hogwarts grounds.
Draco stared up at the little sparkling lights with a soft smile. “Well, shit…” He muttered, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, too much. He pulled Harry up so that he was sitting next to him and not sprawled face-first across his lap. “Look, Harry.”
Harry blinked, eyes wide as he leaned against Draco’s side. “It’s so pretty…” he murmured sweetly, reaching forward and touching a sparkle with the tip of his finger. It rested there for a long second before flickering away into nothing.
“Yeah,” Draco agreed, looking at the side of his boy’s soft face. Harry’s lips were shiny and wet, swollen and red. His cheeks flushed warm and his green eyes glittered in the twinkling golden light. “Pretty…”
The magical little fireflies lasted long after the boys finally climbed to their feet and made their way to bed. They danced and shimmered, twinkling like little stars, only to slowly dim and fade away as morning drew closer.
Chapter end.
Thank you for all the well wishes. They really mean a lot to me. I have the best readers in the whole community. :)
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Freedom Bound in Chains