Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Freedom Bound in Chains	By : TaintedSensibly Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 58479 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 13
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Harry Potter characters. I did not make money from this story.

Chapter List
- 74
- 75
- 76
Samhain
Samhain, or Halloween, dawned cold and dreary, but that did nothing to douse everyone’s excitement for the feast. Upperclassmen told stories of piles and piles of sweats, floating pumpkins and candles, and staying up late telling stories of the dead.
“It’s Wingardium Levi-O-sa,” Hermione said impatiently as Ron again struggled to lift his feather in Charms, the last class of the day.
Ron glared hotly at her. Hermione merely sniffed and put her nose in the air as if he were the one being unreasonable! The gong of the bell in the bell tower rang throughout the school, signaling freedom.
Ron grabbed his bag, flung it violently over his shoulder, and rounded on the bushy-haired girl. Voice dark and vicious, he spat, “I didn’t ask for your help! And don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing with Harry!” Her eyes had grown wide. Everyone had gone silent around them, but Ron couldn't stop. He’d kept it in for far too long. Being assigned as her partner today had been the last straw! “You’re scared he’ll realize how terrible you are if he spends time with anyone normal, so you’re doing your bloody best to keep him from his other friends! Well, I’m not going anywhere, you ugly hag! Everyone hates you! You’re a bloody menace! Why don’t you just shove off?”
Professor Flitwick was too shocked to interfere and Ron stormed away before he could assign a detention. “Oh dear,” he muttered as Hermione fled the room in tears.
Neville ran after her, but Draco took Harry’s hand and went after Ron instead. He didn’t like the way the rest of the First-years were silent with implied agreement. Even Hermione’s roommates looked reluctant to interfere.
The Great Hall was decked out for Samhain. Floating pumpkins and candles hovered above the tables just as promised and treats were piled almost two feet high. The energy in the room was almost electric. They found Ron sitting at the end of Gryffindor table, away from their usual spot. He was poking at a cupcake with a scowl on his face.
“Ron,” Draco called.
The redhead looked up, his expression mulish.
Draco sighed. Harry took the seat to the right and Draco sat on the redhead’s left, boxing him in. “Look. You have every right to be mad if she’s being rude, but you can’t just go off on her like that.”
“Like a know-it-all like her would ever listen to me any other way!” Ron mashed a perfectly fine cupcake flat with his fork.
Draco had to concede the girl was stubborn. “If she really bothers you that much, try and avoid her.”
“Hard to do when you two are always hanging out with her,” Ron muttered stubbornly. “She’s always getting in my face when I’m trying to hang out with Harry.”
Draco frowned at Ron’s resistance. “We have to live together for seven years. You really want to fight that whole time? Besides, it upsets Harry.” The last was said in warning.
Ron glanced to the side and saw that Harry did look worried. Harry had been working so hard, everyone could see it. Ron was being a jerk, putting more on him. He mashed his cupcake even harder. Hermione Longbottom-Pleasant was just so impossible!
Draco saw the Forth-years hovering nearby. Ron had taken their usual seats. Sighing, Draco grabbed Ron’s arm, pulling firmly. “I doubt she’s coming to dinner. Let’s go sit at our usual spot, okay?”
Ron caved as Harry stared at him with big hopeful eyes. Together, they walked to their accustomed table with the twins, the twins’ friends, and most of the First-years. Draco was right. Neither Neville nor Hermione showed up for the feast. Harry fretted through most of the meal, only calming down when Draco told him to pick out the best treats so they could bring it up to Hermione and Neville later.
Draco gave Ron a look, making the redhead squirm. He gave in, saying, “Yeah, okay. I’ll help you bring them up.” The relief on Harry’s face made Ron feel twice as guilty. “Sorry for ruining our first Samhain at Hogwarts,” he muttered.
“It’s okay. Friends fight,” Harry said, forgiving him instantly.
A warning kick from Draco to his ankle kept the, ‘I’ll never be her friend’, behind Ron’s teeth.
A wave of silence followed the abrupt arrival of Professor Quirrell. He was clearly in a panic, running and stumbling. His face was pale, his blue eyes wide with terror. By the time he hit the halfway mark into the Great Hall, you could hear a pin drop.
“T-T-Troll. I-In the d-d-dung-geon,” he stuttered, looking toward the head table where Dumbledore and the other teachers sat. “Just t-t-thought y-you’d like to k-know.” Then he fainted dead away.
There was instant pandemonium.
Dumbledore rose to his feet, his voice magically amplified so all the students could hear him. “Seventh-years, guide your classmates back to the common rooms. Stay inside until you hear from your Head of House! Teachers, escort the children. Minerva, with me.”
Draco grabbed both Ron and Harry by the hands. “Go. Be safe. I’ll catch up in a minute.” He wasn’t about to leave Quirrell. He pulled the two boys’ hands together, placing Harry’s hand in Ron’s.
- anxiety trust - Harry didn’t want to go, but he trusted Draco to make the right decision. If Draco thought he’d get in the way, then Harry needed to leave.
Ron gave a serious nod before getting up and following the stream of their housemates. Percy appeared at his side and Ron shamelessly took his hand, too. They followed the raised voices of the Seventh-years, calling, “Keep together now! Let’s be quick!”
They were in a crush of students from all the houses moving toward the Great Hall doors. Frightened and excited murmurs filled the air. Suddenly the kids next to Harry and Ron parted and a Gryffindor Fourth-year appeared at Harry’s shoulder, eyes wide and voice breathless from their struggle to reach the two First-years.
“Um, I thought you should know that I saw that friend of yours run into a bathroom on the second floor. She was crying.”
Harry’s eyes went wide as he looked to Ron - distress. “They won’t know about the troll!”
“Bloody hell,” Ron cursed, hand unconsciously tightening around Percy’s. Trolls were dangerous. Neville and Hermione were in serious trouble. “Perce…”
“You go on ahead,” Percy decided, letting Ron’s hand go and pushing the boy toward the stairs. “I’ll go get the other two.”
“No way!” Ron decided instantly. “It’s my fault they’re in trouble! I’m going! Arguing with me will only waste time. We need to get them quick.”
Percy gave his brother an angry glare, but Ron was right. They didn’t have time. Turning, he practically ran toward the second floor bathrooms with Ron and Harry chasing after him. It should be okay. The troll was in the dungeons. They’d get the other two and hurry up to the Tower. It’d be fine…
…
Draco hid under a table. It took ten minutes for everyone to leave and then a few minutes after that before Quirrell got to his feet, no longer looking terrified. Draco felt cold. In the weeks that Draco had been spying, Quirrell had acted suspicious as hell, but he’d never dropped his act so completely. It was like he was a different person altogether and it made goosebumps rise along Draco’s arms.
Quirrell strode with purpose down past the head table and out a side door obscured by banners. Draco followed as quickly and quietly as he could without giving himself away. What he wouldn’t give for the map right about now! Not that he really needed it. He had a feeling he knew exactly where Quirrell was headed: the third floor corridor. Quirrell was making his move.
…
A strong stench filled the second floor corridor. Percy knew something wasn’t right even before they turned the corner and saw the bathroom entrance smashed in, debris and dust falling across the floor. A girl’s scream pierced the air.
This isn’t happening! Percy mentally screamed. It couldn’t have gotten up here this fast!
His heart pounded with terror. He’d never been so scared in all his life. Trolls were out of stories and textbooks. The smell, the sheer size, the fear of being hurt, of the younger kids being hurt… MerlinMerlinMerlin…
“Get help!” he yelled as he ran forward to try and save the Longbottoms.
Ron shoved Harry, echoing, “Go! Get help!”, before running after his brother.
Eyes wide, heart pounding with adrenaline, Harry hesitated for a brief second before turning and sprinting back toward the main cross-section.
…
Draco pressed his back flat to the wall and slowly peeked his head around the corner. Quirrell muttered something, his wand moving in intricate patterns. His other hand was splayed palm out toward a door.
- fear determination - filled the bond with the flavor of metal. Draco pulled his head back, breathing hard. What was happening with Harry?
Sound hit the air, deep and powerful, with repetitive booms. Draco covered his ears and staggered away from the wall. Slowly he realized it was barking. Eyes wide, he tried to estimate how big the dogs had to be to make a sound like that. What the hell? Was that even possible?
He took another look around the corner to see a massive grey paw fill the entire doorway with claws black and deadly. Quirrell staggered back, casting a fire spell that made the paw yank back, but the barking continued even after Quirrell slammed the door shut.
…
Harry almost ran into Professor Snape. The man had been running up the stairs toward the third floor after seeing his Slytherins to the dorm, but he stopped at hearing Harry’s desperate cry.
“Please! Help! The troll! It has students pinned in a bathroom!”
Severus looked furious, more furious than he ever did in class, and practically flew back down the stairs.
Harry turned and ran after him - desperation fear.
…
The troll was as dumb as a bag of rocks, but it was huge! Three times the size of Hagrid, it barely fit in the bathroom. It had a massive club and a loincloth, hugely muscled arms and legs, skin a moss green color, and sharp yellowing teeth like a shark’s.
Percy attacked it from outside the bathroom, drawing its hungry attention from Hermione and Neville who were huddled terrified under a sink. Their hands were over their ears and they were screaming, torsos curled close over their knees.
Annoyed, the monster bellowed and took another swing at the wall. Stone shattered with a deafening, terrifying crash, making the floor vibrate and the whole world seem precarious. Percy was clipped by a piece of debris and went down to his knees, his shoulder bleeding. Neville and Hermione began sobbing, now clinging to each other desperately.
“Wingardium Leviosa!” Ron bellowed and the club was lifted out of the troll’s hand. With a scream of rage and fear, Ron swung his wand as he would a baseball bat with all the strength in his arm. The club swung around, mimicking Ron’s movement and hit the troll square in the face.
Blackish blood burst from the monster’s face, splattering the walls and floor as the troll staggered and fell against the bathroom wall. Again the floor shook. The bathroom stalls fell toward Hermione and Neville with a bang.
“Run!” Ron cried desperately. He reached his hand forward uselessly, too far away and too slow to stop it. His heart practically leapt into his throat, certain he was about to watch classmates die right in front of him…
Neville grabbed Hermione’s hand, yanking her toward Ron, but the stalls fell with a crash right on top of her. She gave an agonized cry as she slammed face-first to the ground, the stalls pinning her legs brutally to the floor.
“HERMIONE!” Neville screamed.
The troll gave a roar and pushed off the wall, reaching for Neville.
…
* Harry! * Draco called through the bond, an instinctive reaction as his boy’s fear screamed through him.
Draco pushed his head around the corner one last time only to see Quirrell standing inches away staring directly down at him. A demented smile twisted the man’s face. The smell of garlic wrapped around him, hitting Draco’s senses like a punch. How the hell had the man gotten so close without Draco smelling him sooner?!
Draco’s eyes went wide in horror, his heart thundered in his chest as adrenaline soaked his system.
“Well, well, well…” Low and menacing, Quirrell spoke without a single stutter. A faint red glow seemed to come from his eyes. “Finally caught the rat that’s always scurrying around, following me, watching me. Thought you were clever, did you, boy? You’re going to wish you had left well enough alone…”
Draco bared his teeth, backing up and giving himself some room. His magic coiled tightly, waking up from deep in his core with the realization that: Harry needed him; this bastard is a threat to Harry!
“What are you going to do, Professor?” he drawled, heart pounding as his vision went crystal clear, his body and mind primed for battle. He hadn’t been looking for a confrontation, not so soon, but like hell he’d back down now.
Eyes glinting silver, his voice dripped with mocking disdain, “Kill or hurt a student? I’m Draco Malfoy! The whole world knows my name. Something happens to me, your cover’s blown.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that.”
Quirrell laughed, high and insane. The sound was so foreign, so inhuman, it literally made Draco feel cold. His heart beat so hard it seemed to pound at the inside of his throat. Draco clinched his fists, trying to steady his screaming nerves.
“Tell me something!” Draco demanded, stalling. He dug his nails into his palm, cutting deeply, getting his blood flowing. “Who’re you talking to when you’re all alone? I’m betting Voldemort. Do you do it through a mirror? Something else? Well, I’ll just bet Dumbledore will love going through your things to find out, traitor. And he’ll just love to hear about how you’re always creeping around this corridor. Finally found a way to get the door open, huh? Fat lot of good it did you,” he finished with a sneer.
As Quirrell snarled and lunged forward, Draco flung up his hand, splattering the asshole with his potent, magic-imbued blood.
…
As Snape and Harry sprinted onto the scene, they saw dust rolling out of the shattered bathroom doorway and could smell the gut churning stench of troll. Chunks of stone were flung across the hallway. Percy Weasley was on his knees, blood spilling from his shoulder. The sound of children screaming made every hair stand on end. Snape practically flew into the bathroom, wand stabbing forward as he bellowed, “Bombarda!”
The seven foot monster standing inside the demolished bathroom flew with great force right through the wall away from Hermione and Neville. As more debris fell from the roof and more dust filled the air, choking them, it screamed in rage.
Harry ran right past Snape, ignoring the man’s angry call of his name - determination fury. His friends needed him! They were going to die! Troll blood made the floor slick. His leather shoes slid slightly, the heel made him slightly unsteady, but then he was there. Neville looked up at him with such painful hope that Harry almost collapsed underneath it. He was useless! He was going to FAIL! - but still his body moved, still he tried.
“Get to your brother!” Snape yelled, grabbing the younger Weasley by the back of his robes when the redheaded boy tried to go after Harry. He flung him back through the broken doorway.
Huge green hands grasped the edges of the hole that its body had made and began to pull itself through with another wall-shaking scream.
At the crunch of stone under the beast’s hands, Harry looked over his shoulder, green eyes wide and wild, gasping in fast terrified breaths of the stench-filled air. Whipping his head back around toward his terrified friends, he raised his wand, trusting Snape to protect him.
…
Quirrell instinctively flinched backward and flung his arm up to catch most of the blood with his robe sleeve. The cloth immediately began to smoke as if acid had splattered it and Quirrell shrugged his robe off in a smooth gesture, letting it pool on the floor. A few drops had landed on his wrist and the back of his hand. It burned fiercely, disintegrating the skin and searing down through muscle to bone.
Quirrell screamed! His voice distorted the air, layered with a higher pitch, eerily doubled.
Draco wound up to fling more at the bastard, but he felt his arms get yanked viciously backward before he could finish the swing. His arms were magically bound from elbow to wrist, hands falling just below his ass, in a position he had once been terribly familiar with. Ice speared his insides and, with terrible understanding, Draco realized he should have run as soon as he saw Quirrell so close. His stupid instincts had led him to hold his ground instead. Terror opened up a pit in his stomach. He was helpless.
Shit, god no, not again…“Fuck,” Draco gasped, staring in horror as Quirrell’s face seemed to blur for a second.
A monstrous mouth, wide and gaping, blazing red eyes… Draco bit back a whimper and flinched back, his arms hitting the wall hard. With desperate terror, he bit his cheek, the pain hardly registering as poisoned blood slowly filled his mouth.
…
“Wingardium Leviosa!” Harry screamed fearfully, desperate to save his friends.
Harry’s desperation-filled spell slowly lifted the heavy stalls off Hermione. Neville was already pulling on his sister’s arm, screaming mindlessly with fear. As soon as they lifted enough, he dragged her out from underneath. Harry let the stalls drop with a bang and began to help Neville pull her toward the bathroom door. Harry tried not to see how her legs seemed crushed and bowed in weird places or the swath of blood that trailed in her wake…
Tears spilled over Harry’s cheeks while Neville babbled hysterically promising everything would be okay. Hermione sobbed in pain, unable to walk. Her cheek was scraped and raw, blood trickled down her chin from her split lip. She looked battered and small and so unlike herself.
Snape cast spell after spell, giving them the chance to drag Hermione clear of the rubble and the shattered doorway. The troll bellowed. Its skin smoked and steamed as it staggered back, but it was determined. Eyes red and frothing at the mouth, it flung itself forward again and again, trying to smash-break-eat them!
…
Quirrell stood over Draco, his expression cold, eyes burning red, and cast another pain spell. He’d dodged the mouthful of blood the boy had spat at him like a wild thing and reflexively brought the child down with a spell that caused many grown men to weep like a baby. The child had hardly shown a reaction.
“You’re powerful, boy,” Quirrell whispered softly, caressing the words almost seductively. “Murderous. Dark. You’ll be a great weapon in my hand.”
Quirrell watched fascinated as the boy went rigid, muscles tensed into corded lines, but still he didn’t scream. That only delighted Quirrell more. He released the spell and the boy went limp, crumpled on his side with his arms bound behind him and blood trickling out of his mouth. His blond hair had long since fallen from behind his ears, fanning across his cheek, darkened and damp with sweat.
“I’m temped to see if Cruico would win a scream from you, but that would leave evidence behind.” He crouched and gently stroked the boy’s hair, moving it away from his face so he could see it better. “You won’t be telling anyone about this or me, I’m afraid.” He smiled darkly. “But do not fear, I will not forget our time together, Draco Malfoy. I have great plans in store for you and your inborn power.”
As Quirrell’s burnt and damaged hand grabbed Draco face, a spike of pure agony split Draco’s head open as if it had been brutally cleaved in two. Draco bared his bloody teeth in a vicious grin. He fought the invasion with everything he had, his body going into a full-blown seizure, but he lost.
Lost, broken… underneath a man once again, he had everything he was twisted cruelly. Draco’s psyche screamed in utter agony that thrilled the man ripping him to pieces… The terrifying howls of three massive dogs filled the corridor.
…
Dumbledore and McGonagall arrived just as Harry and Neville managed to drag a sobbing, whimpering Hermione out of the bathroom. Dumbledore’s blue eyes blazed with power he usually kept hidden. His white hair and beard seemed to lift slightly as if on a breeze. His movements were strong and fast. McGonagall wasn’t nearly as flashy, but she was efficient and confident. With Snape joining them, fury lacing every spell, it was over within a few minutes. The troll was left bleeding, unconscious, and bound.
“I will take care of the troll,” Dumbledore said gravely. “Minerva, see to the school. Severus, take the children to the infirmary.”
“There is something I need to check on,” Snape insisted.
“Very well,” Dumbledore allowed after a brief hesitation. He turned sharp eyes to McGonagall. “See to the children. I should only be gone a few hours.”
She bowed her head. “Yes, Headmaster.”
…
The pain was indescribable as Draco’s mind was brutally torn open. His defenses only slowed the monster down, did nothing to stop it. He was helpless. Chucks of memory, of who he was, was shoved this way and that, his mind being forcefully remade.
Helpless, torn apart, Draco’s consciousness sank into a place that he once knew so well. He knew no amount of begging for it to be over would stop the mind-shredding pain. The only thing he could do was hunker down and endure. It hurt, hurt, HURT! He sobbed and whimpered brokenly as it went on and on.
In his mind, the image of Quirrell fractured, shattered painfully as his memories and consciousness were pulled apart like taffy. Quirrell was made harmless, Draco’s paranoia and deadly intent shifted to Snape, Harry’s headaches an allergy to garlic, nothing to worry about. It was all Snape, the traitor, the one who was a danger to them all…
Quirrell grinned as he stared down at the small boy. He was crouched before the child, looming over him, hovering too close. The boy sat against the wall, breathing hard, eyes glazed with acute suffering. Tears streamed down his face as he made these soft sobbing sounds. Eleven years old, so young, but his mind had been so tangled and full of blades. In time, he’d become something fierce and formidable. Quirrell caressed the child’s face, nails thick and yellow against the soft, pale skin of the boy’s damp cheek, before hearing footsteps approaching. He reluctantly pulled away.
“Until next time, Draco,” he whispered softly.
…
Severus strode down the third floor corridor, breaking into a run as he passed the sound ward and heard the howling, barking madness of the cerberus. He unlocked the door to the chamber with the first trap and was immediately set on by the monster. He dove away from the doorway, but a claw still managed to nick his leg. His slammed the door, heart thundering in his chest. A quick bandage spell stopped the bleeding, but something wasn’t right. Something must have agitated the beast to be so ready for violence. The beast’s barking was deafening.
Concerned, he hurried down the hallway, trying to see if anyone were fleeing the scene and ran smack into Draco Malfoy. The boy tumbled backward, falling hard on his butt. His eyes were wide and wild, a snarl twisting his features. Severus narrowed his eyes as blood slowly trickled from the boy’s nose and out the corner of his mouth. Tears streamed down the boy’s pale cheeks.
“Draco, what happened? Are you well?”
Draco got back on his feet, swaying slightly. Sweat dampened his face and darkened his hair. “Could ask you the same thing,” he said lowly, voice thick, hoarse. “Something you need over here? I’m sure you have other things you should be doing than lurking around this corridor.”
Severus had no time to argue with the boy. Something had clearly happened. He had to find the traitor; they had to know which of the staff was contaminated. “Harry was taken to the infirmary. I suggest you go there as well.”
“And leave you here to steal whatever it is Dumbledore’s protecting?” Draco took an aggressive step closer, eyes glittering with malice. “How long have you been in Voldemort’s service, traitor?”
Severus reeled back as if struck. “I don’t know to what you’re referring,” he said numbly, his mask slamming into place from long years of practice. “Why don’t I escort you to the infirmary. You’re obviously unwell.”
Draco said nothing to that, letting a sneer of disgust speak for him, but he followed the man when he turned and made his way back down the corridor. At least it got Snape away from the third floor corridor for now.
Draco stared grimly at the professor’s back. He’d make sure Snape didn’t get his way and that Dumbledore’s item stayed safe from Voldemort. Once Draco figured out how Snape was keeping in touch with the Dark Lord, he’d reveal him for the bastard traitor he was. The taste of salt and blood filled his mouth, making him grimace and his stomach roll, but his silver eyes stayed focused on Snape’s black-robed shoulders.
…
Harry looked up as Snape strode into the infirmary with Draco in tow. He took one look at Draco’s pale, blood-streaked face and ran to his side - worry love. Draco opened his arms, holding Harry safe and close, but his eyes remained narrowed on Snape’s form.
“You’re bleeding,” Harry murmured, reaching up to gently wipe some of the blood away.
“Just a nose bleed,” Draco dismissed. His attention finally shifted to Harry. “What happened?” he demanded, carding a hand through Harry’s dust-coated hair.
Harry dutifully told the story of his adventure - pride worry.
Draco’s grip tightened in Harry’s hair, distressed that the boy had come so close to danger and he hadn’t been there, but Harry was proud of himself. Draco could feel the tentative belief that he’d done good a flicker through the bond. If Draco got mad or scolded him, Harry’s fragile self-worth would be crushed to dust and three times as hard to bring back to life.
“Good boy, getting help,” he murmured. “You saved their lives.”
- happy pride - Harry smiled, hiding his face against Draco’s shoulder. “But Hermione’s still really hurt…” - worry guilt.
“She’ll be fine. Pomfrey is a good healer, remember?” Draco closed his eyes and just held his boy close.
He had to do better. He had to protect Harry! The fact that Harry had run into Snape of all people, alone for that brief moment, made chills run down his spine. He opened his eyes and stared malevolently over Harry’s head at Snape. Snape was fucking lucky Harry hadn’t been hurt or Draco would have killed him, consequences be damned.
Dark eyes stared back at him, expression blank, and Draco bared his teeth in a dangerous, blood-coated grin.
…
“I’m sorry, Severus,” Poppy said softly. The room was dark, the children spelled into a deep sleep as they lay in her hospital beds - for observation, she’d told them. “I scanned Mr. Malfoy twice. There’s nothing wrong with him that I can see beyond exhaustion. He had a bitten cheek and punctured palm, all easily healed.”
Severus stared at the eleven-year-old boy tucked into the narrow bed. Harry lay in the bed next to him, their hands reaching across the space between them, fingers linked even in sleep. Draco looked so small, so young. Severus was deeply disturbed by their earlier confrontation. Something had happened and Severus feared for the boy.
What did you get yourself into? he thought, feeling grim.
“Thank you, Poppy,” he said, voice equally soft, and spun on his heel, making his robes flare. “I must report to the Headmaster.”
…
Harry woke shortly after dawn. He was exhausted, but the night before had left him feeling like he was rattling inside his own skin, too anxious to sleep. The blurry outline of Draco in the next bed soothed him and he held tight to the blond’s hand. He almost made it back to sleep when he heard Neville’s soft crying.
Harry frowned. Sitting up, he grabbed his glasses off the nightstand with his free hand and slid them on his face. He blinked a few times to clear his vision and saw that Neville was in hospital pajamas and stood next to the bed across from him. It was Hermione’s bed. Looking to his other side, he saw Percy sound asleep.
Harry carefully climbed out of bed, noticing that he wore hospital pajamas, too. Gently placing Draco’s hand on his chest, he tiptoed across the room. Neville looked up at him, eyes red-rimmed and tormented. Harry’s heart clenched. He wanted to help, but he had no idea what to do. His eyes unconsciously darted back to Draco’s sleeping form. He would know. Draco always knew.
“I couldn’t help her,” Neville rasped hoarsely. “She’s really hurt, Harry.”
Harry looked to where his roommate gestured and saw that there was something on Hermione’s legs underneath the blankets. Some kind of cast or brace.
Harry bit his lip, his heart suddenly pounding harder in his chest - uncertainty guilt. He could heal her!… But if the wound was very bad, it would make Harry weak and dizzy and possibly pass out. He could even hurt himself because he always lost a dangerous amount of weight when he healed big things without Draco’s magic bolstering his own.
His throat tightened and he became aware of the collar at his throat. Unconsciously, Harry relaxed; his nerves settled. “Madam Pomfrey’s a really good healer,” he repeated Draco’s words to himself as well as to Neville.
Percy sat up, woken by the boys’ voices. He rubbed tiredly at his eyes. “You two should still be sleeping. What’s going on?” He was topless, a big white bandage wrapping his shoulder.
Harry looked to Neville, but the other boy had no intention of speaking. “Hermione’s hurt,” Harry finally said and glanced back at Draco worriedly. “And Draco won’t wake up.”
“Hermione’s going to be fine,” Percy told them, voice and eyes gentle as he slipped on his glasses. “I heard Madam Pomfrey talking about it. She’s going to need treatment for a few weeks, but she’ll make a full recovery. As for Draco, Madam Pomfrey said he was exhausted. She probably gave him something to help him sleep.”
Neville ducked his head. “I just wish I could have helped her before she got hurt in the first place. I… I was so scared. I didn’t know what to do and she got hurt.” Large tears rolling down his raw cheeks, Neville looked up at them and confessed, “I wish I were stronger.”
Sympathetic tears filled Harry’s eyes as he reached forward and took Neville’s hand. He knew exactly how Neville felt. “Me, too.”
Percy tried to get them back into bed, but they stood by Hermione for almost half an hour before Pomfrey came to check on them. She ordered them breakfast trays and told them to get back in bed and take it easy.
All five of them had been excused from classes for the day. Ron had been as well, but he had insisted on going back to the Tower last night. (He hadn’t trusted Pomfrey to release him in the morning and judged it better to avoid her clutches if possible.) He knew both Harry and Hermione would worry about missing class and had promised to take notes for them. Harry and Neville shared a grin at that. Maybe those two would finally stop fighting now.
Chapter end.
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Freedom Bound in Chains