Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Freedom Bound in Chains	By : TaintedSensibly Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 58478 -:- 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
- 81
- 82
- 83
A/N: Warning! Child Abuse, child molestation, slavery, sexual slavery, human trafficking, drug use (mild?), non-con, shota, a lot of profanity
Seeking Help
Draco staggered over to the tub of hot water that Percy had prepared for him. He felt numb, but at the same time like he would shatter if he moved too fast. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. Someone had gotten inside him, changed him, and he would never have known. The only consolation he had was that he was somehow rejecting what had been done to him, but no matter how he fought, it was too late. He couldn’t undo the violation.
Draco’s legs collapsed and he sank to his knees. His head tilted back, his face twisted in agony, and he screamed so loudly his veins corded on his neck. Gasping, he bent forward, slamming his fists on the cold tile, pressing his forehead hard against the ground.
The surge of rage and fear passed and left him once more feeling numb and vulnerable. He was exhausted. The simple act of bathing seemed beyond him. He trembled as Harry’s love and worry emotions hummed through the bond… Harry’s scar bleeding a thin trail of ruby… Harry’s small body heaving and shaking… the way the darkness seemed be waiting to pull him under… Harry needed him. Draco couldn’t fall apart. Not now. Voldemort would win the battle over Harry’s soul if he broke now.
Draco felt the panic well up again. The sick idea of someone getting inside his head mixed with images of being raped and he hovered on the brink of a flashback. His Occlumency kicked in, locking it away for later.
“Fuck!” Draco screamed hoarsely. He stared blindly ahead, panting and furious. “Get up, you bastard. Get up!”
Beating his hands against the floor one last time, Draco forced himself to his feet. His vision greyed. He wouldn’t make it. Not like this. It would take him days to find his center again. He didn’t have that kind of time.
Staggering, forcing one foot ahead of the other, Draco abandoned the bathroom. Arms wrapped around his thin torso, he forced himself down the cold, stone hallway and up two flights of stairs. Like last time, the door wasn’t locked. He stumbled across the dark room, snores and soft breathing filling the small space. He pulled open the bed hangings of a specific bed and practically fell onto two pairs of legs. He was shaking again, his teeth chattering loudly. His feet were painful blocks of ice.
“Who’s it?” a sleepy voice called in the darkness before the soft glow of a wand tip illuminated the space around them.
Draco was crying, tears streaking his pale face, eyes puffy and bloodshot, tormented as he looked up at George. “Please…” he whispered. “I need… something… please, I know you have potions… I just… I need to think straight… just for a minute…”
George stared in horror at the little boy. He swished his bed curtains closed, activating the silencing and privacy wards, and sat up. He immediately flung the comforter around the boy’s shaking shoulders. “Shit, Draco, what happened?” he demanded, short red hair mussed from sleep and wide brown eyes filled with worry.
“George?” Fred sat up, woken by the movement and cold as the comforter was removed. His expression creased with worry identical to his brother’s when he registered Draco’s trembling frame at the foot of their bed.
“Please…” Draco begged, curling in on himself.
“Get Pomfrey,” George ordered his brother as he wrapped Draco in his arms.
“No!” With surprising force, Draco shoved George away from him. “No. No adults. No fucking adults.” His grey eyes flashed up and pierced first Fred and then George. “I just need something to settle my nerves. I have flashbacks. Of when I was a fucking sex slave, okay? Just please help me. I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine,” he repeated, crumbling into tears again. “Fuck…” he rasped, squeezing his torso in an effort to hold himself together. He was falling apart, couldn’t they fucking see that? Someone had fucked with his fucking mind and he couldn’t remember any of it! He had no idea what had been done to him! Harry needed him to get it together, goddamn it! Couldn’t they see he was fucking begging them for help?
“Alright…” George lifted his hands, palms out, in a sign of peace. He shot his brother a look. Fred looked back. George nodded. “I’ll get you something. Hold on.”
Fred watched his brother leave and turned a concerned frown on the blond who looked one minute away from a complete meltdown. Sex slave? That hadn’t been in the papers, he thought, horrified. Bloody hell…
Draco took deep breaths. He thought about Harry and his promises, but it was like trying to catch the end of a writhing snake. He wasn’t weak, damn it! He was strong! He just had to goddamn breathe! He’d been through this before… held down, beaten, raped, bled and tortured… He’d won; Raymond had fucking died like the animal he was! But this time thinking about the past made him feel weak instead of strong. He’d been small and scared and it had hurt so fucking much. It had destroyed him in ways he still didn’t comprehend. He didn’t honestly think he could survive that again. He really didn’t.
George returned to see Draco rocking back and forth at the foot of the bed, eyes staring blankly at nothing. Fred’s hands hovered in the air, hesitating on touching the boy, clearly terrified of making things worse. He shot his twin a desperate look.
“Draco…” George called unsurely.
Dead grey eyes slowly shifted over to him.
George shivered. “I have something. It’s a lot more powerful than a Calming Draught. It will make you feel floaty. Clear your mind. Lots of kids strung out before the big exams take it.” He lifted a test tube full of a thick, pale blue substance. “How much do you weigh, do you know?”
“Seventy-seven pounds,” Draco answered in a monotone with hollow edges.
George looked to Fred to double check his math.
Fred answered, echoing the number he’d come up with, “Thirty-five kilos, so…”
George nodded. “About seven milliliters, then.” He cast a spell at the tube and a good third of it vanished. He hadn’t expected the kid to be so light, but come to think of it, Ron was tall for his age. That’s why he probably weighed more. He handed the vial to Draco.
The boy stared at it blankly for a long second before he unwound his arm stiffly from his torso and reached for it with a numb hand. The blue goop had an iridescent shine to it. Draco didn’t think it would help. The feelings inside him were too strong, howling and tearing him to shreds. He’d been stupid to come. Stupid to think there was any hope. There was no such thing in this ugly fucking world.
He tipped the vial back. The thick potion slid out almost the consistency of jello. It had no flavor, but it made his tongue and throat tingle. It settled in his belly and expanded, warming up gradually until he blinked and realized he was breathing easily. Most of his shaking slowly stopped except what was caused by the cold.
He blinked and two identical faces stared back at him worriedly. He gave a tentative smile, testing to see if he still could. His lips curled upward obediently, but the expression fell as he sighed and took stock. He didn’t feel great or suddenly invincible, but the screaming inside had been silenced. He’d been cut free.
“How long will it last?” he asked quietly, cold sweat slowly drying on his skin.
“Twenty-four hours give or take.” Fred waffled his hand back and forth.
“It depends on each persons receptibility and the size of the dose,” George continued.
“We think we got it right, though,” Fred added. “So it should last you until tonight.”
Draco nodded. He reached forward and caught George’s hand. “Thanks,” he said quietly, sincerity shining in his eyes.
George nodded, but he wasn’t happy. “You need to talk to someone.”
Fred agreed and asked carefully, “How often does this happen?”
“Not often,” Draco answered honestly. He looked away, unable to meet their gaze. “I saw a Mind Healer. He taught me a spell that helps me manage it, but…” He hesitated and then decided to trust the two. He met their eyes. “Someone recently cast a spell on my mind and it messed me up a bit. Scrambled my control.”
The twins gave him solemn looks as they said together, “You need to tell Dumbledore.”
Draco nodded, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. He climbed from the bed. “I got to get back. Harry will be worried.” Fred and George shared a look, but Draco already knew what they were worried about and added, “Percy’s staying with us tonight.”
The twins relaxed a little at that.
Draco thanked them again and slipped from the room on silent feet. It was fucking freezing and he hurried back to the warm bath he had left behind. He had a lot to think about while the artificial peace gave him room to breathe.
xXx
He made it through the next school day, but after their last class Draco felt as if there was an hourglass in his head and the last of the sand was quickly trickling through his fingers. He stood and took Harry by the hand. His friends called after them, but Draco ignored them, pulling Harry into a shadowed hallway. He made sure no one had followed him and slipped into an unused classroom. At the back, there was a tapestry that hid a secret passage.
“I’m going to talk to Dumbledore,” Draco said calmly, still towing Harry by his hand. Suddenly he stopped, took a deep breath, and faced the other boy. “I took something from the twins that’s kept me calm, but that’s going to wear off soon. I’m going to need need you.”
Harry looked solemnly into Draco’s eyes - love determination protective. “I’ll be strong, Draco,” he promised. He thrilled at the chance to take care of the blond. He loved him so much.
Draco released Harry’s hand in order to cup his boy’s face in his palms. He stepped forward and gently pressed their lips together. Sliding his tongue into Harry’s mouth, he deepened the kiss. Harry kissed him back, coiling his arms around Draco’s neck and filling Draco’s chest with a powerful surge of - love devotion.
Draco pulled away, smiling a soft smile that only Harry ever saw. He carded his hand through Harry’s dark, tangled hair. “Love you,” he whispered.
“Love you, Draco,” Harry echoed back, catching Draco’s hand in his.
Draco smiled for a moment longer, staring into Harry’s eyes, before turning and continuing to the Headmaster’s Tower. They didn’t speak, they didn’t need to. They ascended the moving stairs up to Dumbledore’s office door in perfect sync.
“My boys! What can I do for you?” Dumbledore asked cheerfully. “I was just preparing to go down to dinner.”
He was standing by the stairs that lead to his personal apartment in brilliant white and red heavy winter robes. Fawkes sat perched next to him, red and gold feathers a blaze of glory. He trilled, the sound sweet and pure. Draco found the song clearing his mind, slowing the sand trickling away in his head, and he gave a polite smile of gratitude to the bird.
“We need to talk,” he said calmly. “Sit with me. This might take a few minutes.”
Dumbledore looked genuinely curious. He led the boys across the room to his desk and took the seat behind it, gesturing to the two chairs placed in front of it with a benevolent hand. “What can I do for you? I hope there hasn’t been any more trouble?” he asked in concern.
Draco took one of the seats, but Harry decided to stand at his side to be closer. Harry's eyes dropped to where their fingers were linked together on the armrest. Draco’s hands were a tiny bit bigger, his fingers pale and slender but strong. They were warm, too. He shivered in pleasure as Draco’s thumb unconsciously swiped across his palm.
Draco eyed the old man before him. He was powerful and vastly more knowledgeable, but Draco couldn’t fathom what the crazy bastard was thinking. He was screwing everything up, making so many mistakes. At least, from Draco’s perspective.
Dumbledore stared back at the two children, his smile falling as the silence stretched. The Malfoy heir stared at him as if he were a bug to be dissected while Harry looked downward, standing stoically at the blond’s side, their hands entwined.
“I’ve been attacked,” Draco finally voiced. “My mind has been violated and altered.”
Dumbledore tensed, staring across the desk. “My dear boy, that is a serous accusation…”
Draco cut him off. “Cut the crap, old man.” The words were disrespectful, but his tone remained level and calm. “We both know that there is an agent in this very school working for Voldemort, trying to get the Philosopher’s Stone. A stone that could possibly bring Voldemort back to full power. A stone that you could destroy but have not yet done so because you lack permission. And that person attacked me, Dumbledore. Did something to my mind.”
Dumbledore leaned back, expression grave. “Permission is not to be so carelessly disregarded, Mr. Malfoy. As it is, I am bound to protect the stone and will do so until I am able to convince Nicholas to change his mind. It was one of the costs of convincing my old friend to let me protect it. Had I not made that promise, Voldemort would already have the stone, as you well know by the break-in that happened the very night I was able to transport it to safety.”
Draco considered that. The problem was that Dumbledore had too much ranking. None of Dumbledore’s people would go against his order and destroy it. Even though they probably understood that Dumbledore had been forced to make that promise and it wasn’t actually the best strategic choice. That meant Draco and the others would have to move forward as planned and Draco would have to do it himself.
“And the attack on me? How is it that you were unaware of such a thing?” he asked lowly. He thought about Percy, about Lily Potter. “How many students have had their minds broken and you sat here with no clue?”
“Contrary to popular belief. I am not all powerful, my boy. No witch or wizard is,” Dumbledore said sadly. “As it stands, most of the Mind Arts are of surpassing difficulty and the punishment for committing such an act is quite severe. Attacks of that nature are exceedingly rare.”
Dumbledore sat there calmly, back straight, hands folded before him on the desk, lecturing as if they were talking about some classroom theory. Draco’s temper slowly grew. His hand tightened around Harry’s. Harry stood alert. Ready to jump in at any moment, his attention riveted to the blond at his side.
Dumbledore continued, oblivious. “This is a very good thing as wards, unfortunately, cannot detect Mind Magic as it is not inherently Dark. The Obliviate is the exception, of course, as it is a spell with the sole purpose of destroying or erasing memories, but Legilimecy attacks, as well as the Imperius Curse, their purpose is to change or alter not destroy.”
Draco stared unblinking at the supposedly powerful and wise wizard across from him. Voice as cold as the arctic, he said, “You’re wrong. They do destroy.”
Dumbledore’s eyes widened before they softened. A compassionate expression softened his features. “I’m sorry, my boy. That was callous of me. I do not mean to say it is not a horrific act to alter another person’s mind.” Dumbledore stared kindly over his glasses. “It pains me more than you can know to learn that you have suffered so here at this school. I will do all in my power to discover who is behind this horrible attack.”
Why did that sound like an empty promise? Draco took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. After a moment, he was able to say, words clipped and sharp, “What about me?”
Dumbledore steepled his fingers. “I believe you are aware of Occlumency.”
Draco nodded his head once.
“That is the only way to heal and reorganize your mind, I’m afraid. Of course, there are potions that can help make you more receptive or induce a trance-like state to help, but that’s all anyone can really do to help you.” Blue eyes sparkled as Dumbledore gave Draco a confident smile. “I have faith in your ability to recover, my boy. You have a very unique mind, after all.”
Coldly, Draco growled. “Faith?” His eyes glittered with rage.
Dumbledore’s smile fell as he began to sense not all was well with the boy. He tried to reassure the child. “The fact that you are rejecting whatever alteration may have been made proves that your mind is not easily manipulated. Most people do not realize they have been altered unless someone else points it out to them. The trouble then becomes that that person is now who they are. To alter them in an attempt to return them to their former self is in essence committing the same crime, so not much progress or experimentation has been done in that area.”
“That’s a load of crap,” Draco declared, eyes narrowed on the older wizard.
“Is it?” Dumbledore looked at the boy curiously. “If Harry could be altered, say to be a regular child with no trauma, to be the boy he was meant to be before he was subjected to abuse, would you allow it even knowing it would change who he is at a fundamental level?”
Draco bared his teeth. “I’m not talking about rewriting a whole past. I’m taking about correcting the damage created by someone attacking another person’s mind!”
“So you are,” Dumbledore agreed calmly. “But you do understand my point as well?”
Draco understood in the sense that he could comprehend the words coming out of Dumbledore’s mouth, but it was still a load of bullshit. “In essence you are saying that the person after being mind raped is a new person and so can’t be mind raped a second time to fix the first mind rape.”
Dumbledore’s expression was completely shocked at the boy’s crude choice of words. “Mr. Malfoy…”
“Well, to hell with that thinking, sir,” Draco drawled the title with heavy sarcasm, grey eyes flashing silver. “I’m talking about healing something real. You’re talking about philosophical crap that doesn’t fucking matter! If you think for one moment someone doesn’t bare marks, damaging marks, after being mentally attacked, you are very much mistaken. And to leave a person in that state because of some theoretical shit about protecting their current personality is cruel.”
Fire burned through Draco’s veins. The potion the twins had given him was running out. Vicious anger and helplessness and fear were churning beneath the surface. Terrors held at bay by Occlumency flickered in the shadows of his mind, ready to pounce. It made Draco dangerous. It took him back to the time when he’d been savage and bloodthirsty. Dumbledore literally leaned back as the boy’s expression became feral and wild, his voice thick with threat.
“I say put your theory to the test,” Draco hissed, leaning forward. “Why don’t you hike those robes up and bend over this fucking desk. We could call up…” His mouth twisted into a cruel smile. “…Snape. Harry and I will watch as he knocks all your magic aside like it’s nothing and rapes your ass and mouth and degrades you in the most brutal way. He’ll hurt you, truly hurt you, and you won’t be able to stop it or talk your way out of it because you won’t fucking matter beyond the fact that you can give Snape pleasure. He’ll make you scream in agony and you’ll actually believe him when he calls you a slut and a filthy whore because he’ll make you cum. You’ll cum even as he’s making you bleed. Even that will be his. I dare you, Dumbledore. I dare you to know what it feels like to have your body stolen from you and made into a thing, just a fucking tool for another man’s pleasure.”
Draco was panting now, eyes wild and dark and cruel. “Tell me after that if you would turn down the chance of being healed afterward because it would ‘destroy who you are now’.” His fingers stabbed at the desk with every word. “I’d like to see you stop yourself from laughing in the asshole’s face who says that because what the fuck do they know about being destroyed?”
Draco came to his feet, leaning in closer to the older wizard. He thrilled in the horror in Dumbledore’s eyes, the tears streaking his face and wetting his beard. “Are you picturing it, Dumbledore? Well, let me tell you it’s a thousand times worse than what you can possibly imagine. Increase that thousand to a million times worse when it’s your fucking mind that’s invaded, the very core of who you are attacked!” Draco slammed his palms flat to the desk. The noise making Dumbledore flinch. “Now tell me that coming up with a cure is complicated and shouldn’t be done,” his hissed in absolute disgust, eyes diamond hard as he stared hatefully across at the Headmaster.
The Headmaster’s lips parted a few times, as if he were trying to speak, but nothing came out.
Draco gave a cold little smile and re-took his seat. Voice and face suddenly masked into something resembling calm, he continued, “I have to say, Dumbledore. I’m not really impressed. Harry and I are fucking essential if you don’t want your pathetic little world to go up in flames and yet you’re doing a really piss poor job of protecting us. We need time, Dumbledore. Time to grow up. If you can’t get us that, then what fucking good are you?” He flicked a gyrating metal circular thing that sat on Dumbledore’s desk and it toppled to the floor with a clatter.
As Dumbledore’s continued to stare mutely, his attention shifted to Harry as the boy lifted his head for the first time and entered the decidedly disturbing conversation.
His hair no longer shielding his face, Harry looked surprisingly fierce. His green eyes were hard with stone cold determination. He looked Dumbledore dead in the eye and said coldly, “You better be able to help Draco.” He didn’t bother with an ‘or else’, but it hung heavy in the air between them anyway.
“My boys… I never said I wouldn’t help you,” Dumbledore protested softly. He stood shakily, his red and white robes swishing softly as he moved. He leaned heavily on the desk, as if he would fall without that support, and sat in the chair next to the boys. “What happened to you both is beyond anything any human being should ever have to endure.”
Tearfully, he reached for them. Harry shifted his body between the old man and Draco so that Dumbledore grabbed his arm instead of Draco’s hand. The blond was tensed as a drawn bow. Harry knew the signs of an impending flashback and was in full-blown protector mode.
Unaware of how on edge the children were, Dumbledore looked at the boys with soulful eyes filled with empathy and compassion. Lips trembled in his white beard, and when he spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. “I am so proud of you both for coming and asking for help. I had no idea that you had been attacked, Draco. Of course I will help you.” Dumbledore released Harry’s arm and straightened in his chair. “I have books of incredible value that will guide you on how to strengthen your Occlumency. I will also contact a Mind Healer if you should think that would help, although I caution you that anyone, even an ally, entering your mind right now could further damage it.”
“If you summoned a healer, could you keep it from my parents?” Draco asked. He leaned back in the chair, his posture relaxing now that they were talking about concrete solutions.
Dumbledore lifted his eyebrows in surprise.
Draco sneered. “Don’t pretend you don’t understand. If Narcissa and Lucius find out my mind was attacked, they’ll take me out of Hogwarts. It won’t matter what I have to say about it. And I’m not leaving until I know the stone is out of Voldemort’s reach for good. It’s too important. Harry’s at stake.” Draco’s eyes hardened once more. “But don’t think that doesn’t mean I won’t walk right out of here with Harry if I think the danger has become too much. We’re awfully close to that point now, Dumbledore.”
Dumbledore smiled, the twinkle coming back into his eyes. It was faint as he was still reeling over Draco’s little speech, but it was there. “I understand, my boy. I will support any decision you make.” He stood, hands grasping his robes to free his feet to walk. He moved to the bookcase partially hidden by the stairs that lead up to the Headmaster’s apartment. “I would indeed have to inform your parents if I called a healer to the school, but I am certain the books will help you more than a healer could. In the meantime, I will work harder on Nicholas. He will be appalled that you have suffered such an attack and I’ll double my efforts to discover the Dark agent at the school.”
Dumbledore returned with three books. One was the size of a textbook, bound in battered and torn black leather. The other two were smaller and thinner, the size of journals. One looked almost new, the leather cover a deep blood red. The last was brown and as worn as the larger one. Harry released Draco’s hand to accept the books with a soft thank you.
Draco stood and met Dumbledore’s eyes. “I’ll let you know if they help.”
“Thank you, my boy. If you need me for anything at all, you are always welcome here,” Dumbledore said gently, staring sadly over the rims of his half-moon glasses.
Draco gave a final nod and led the way to the door, Harry trailing after him.
Draco wrapped his arms around his torso. They had been talking to Dumbledore long enough that dinner had started, so fortunately the halls were empty and so was the common room. He blinked as he realized he was already standing in the center of their dorm room. He was only vaguely aware of Harry shutting the door behind him and then he was somewhere else…
Draco glared resentfully at his Master’s back as he was made to crawl to the showroom with a fucking cinderblock balanced on his back. It was heavy as shit and seemed to get heavier with every passing second. Draco was cursing under his breath and sweating profusely by the time he made it to the showroom.
Master walked beside him, crop in hand. He cracked Draco hard across his already welt-laden ass. The cinderblock trembled, almost falling off, as Draco tensed and hissed at the agonizing sting. There were three men there. They looked up from the kids they had chosen and laughed at Draco’s humiliation.
One of the men, fat and bald with brown eyes and greying beard, called out,“If looks could kill, Raymond, I think you’d be dead!” The girl he’d chosen was lying across his thighs on her back, her legs spread as he thrust thick fingers into her folds. A particularly harsh jab made her whimper and burst into helpless sobs. She was ignored.
“Don’t know if I’d appreciate my slave lookin’ at me like that,” the one in the middle said darkly. He was practically drooling over the boy shivering on his lap, barely sparing Draco or Raymond a glance.
The fucking block was really starting to hurt his back now, felt like it’d snap his spine in two. Draco glared murderously up at his Master. The fuck did he want from him?!
Master stared back, a sick smirk gracing his features. “Take it to the table.”
Draco crawled across the room, panting and sweating, until he reached the low, table-like stage that sat in the middle of the room. Raymond kicked the block off of Draco’s bare back. Draco hissed as it took a fair bit of skin with it.
“Bring yours here, Mr. Wilson,” Raymond told one of the clients.
The bald one got up. He sat her on the table. His right hand glistened from when he’d had it pressed inside her. She was still crying.
Draco was trying to catch his breath, sitting on his butt, his knees bent beside him in a frog-like position. His back throbbed; his arms burned. Raymond grabbed him by his oily, blond hair and hefted him to his feet.
“Draco will do the honors,” he drawled. “We do it and it would take the damn thing right off. Draco will do it just right. Won’t you, slut?”
Draco had no idea what the fucker wanted. His heart was slamming in his ribcage, anxiety making his skin crawl and his head spin.
“You’re gonna make sure Mr. Wilson’s precious will never be able to get away from him.”
Draco stared as the big man held the girl’s leg out with a punishing grip on her thigh. Suddenly he knew what the bastards wanted him to do and felt sick to his stomach.
“Aim for the ankle and shin,” Raymond said softly, bending down to speak directly into Draco’s ear. “You mess this up, slut, I’ll bash your face in with it.”
In his mind’s eye Draco saw that heavy block rushing at his face, could imagine the crunch of bone, the way his face would break, the horrific pain and death that would follow. Fuck! With that terrifying promise ringing in his ears, Draco bent and hefted the heavy weapon. He wished he could reach the Master. He’d gladly burst his head open! He’d beat him with it until his skull was pulp!
As if from a distance, Draco felt himself lift the cinderblock over his head. His legs and arms shook with effort. The girl was screaming in terror now. Mr. Wilson was watching with wide, excited eyes as he held her down. Draco focused on the thin limb held out for him and brought the cinderblock down with all his strength. He could feel the brutal crunch all the way up his arms. The girl flung her head back and shrieked in agony.
“Good. Now the other one!” Mr. Wilson ordered. He straightened her other leg. The girl was thrashing, hysterical, but he easily held her flat.
Draco could hardly breathe. Shit, he was tired and this was a lot of fucking work. He looked to Raymond, wiping sweat from his face.
“Do it,” his master ordered, eyes cold.
Draco grimaced and struggled to get the heavy cinderblock over his head again. He gave a little yell as he brought it down. It took him off his feet this time and he clung to the block to keep himself from falling. The girl made a sound like a wounded animal before passing out. Both ankles were twisted in unnatural positions, her shins looked slightly misshapen. Already some swelling began to appear. Draco knew he should be horrified, but he felt kind of floaty.
Raymond wrapped the girls feet, ankles, and shins in tight bandages. He gave a brief lecture on the best way to make them heal pretty but still hinder her mobility. “Cuddle her a lot. Be sweet and she’ll love you for breaking her legs,” Raymond advised, laughing.
Draco shuddered, desperately glad he was never cuddled by his Master.
Finally the men left with their new property. Raymond stared down at him and Draco felt the numbness fade. Could feel his heart begin to beat harder. Terror brought tears to his eyes. He knew that look. Master was about to hurt him, hurt him bad.
“Put your arm on the table.”
Draco stared up at the bastard and set his jaw. He didn’t move. He wasn’t going to help Raymond hurt him. He wasn’t one of those fucking brainwashed kids.
Raymond bent down slowly, never breaking eye contact. He lifted Draco’s arm and placed it on the table. Draco was shaking at this point.
“You’re nothing but my fucking toy, slut,” Master told him with brutal honesty. “I can do whatever the fuck I want. Now if you move your fucking arm even an inch, I swear to god…” He bent close. Close enough that Draco could feel his hot breath against his face. “I’ll fucking rip it off completely.” He grabbed Draco’s wrist and pulled hard. Draco’s chest came up hard against the side of the table and his socket almost gave. He gave a choked cry of pain, free hand scrabbling helplessly at the table.
“I won’t! Fuck! I won’t fucking move!” Draco screamed, sobbing in both anger and fear.
Raymond laughed and let go of Draco’s wrist. Draco kept his arm still. Even as Raymond picked up the cinderblock. The echo of that girl’s legs breaking, the feel of it, the sound of her screams… Draco began to hyperventilate between his sobs. He was terrified, but if he moved he knew Raymond would do as he promised and cripple him. He had to stay strong. He had to stay strong so he could kill this fucker once and for all! His left hand came up to hold his right arm still the bicep. He was shaking like a leaf.
Raymond didn’t slam the cinderblock down with all his strength like Draco had. Instead he brought it as high as he could and simply dropped it. It fell like a hammer. Draco’s vision went black; pain shot up his arm as the two bones in his forearm fractured. He went limp, wheezing and crying, pinned in place by the heavy concrete cinderblock.
He hardly even felt it when the Master grabbed him by the hair with one hand to keep his head steady and began to jack off with the other, aiming his dick at his agony-contorted face. He felt the bastard cum, though. Felt it hit his tear-soaked face. Could taste it on his lips. Draco hated him so fucking much!
“I’ll kill you,” he promised hoarsely, tears and cum dripping down his flushed cheeks.
Raymond laughed and kicked the block off his arm. Draco screamed. He kept screaming as Raymond wrapped tight bandages around his arm to hold the bones mostly in place.
xXx
Neville opened the door to their dorm and immediately froze. Draco stood close to the center of the room facing the center bed that wasn’t usually used. Harry was standing next to him, talking softly but not touching the other boy. Green eyes glanced Neville’s way but then went back to looking at Draco.
Hesitantly, Neville shut the door and stepped over to his bed. It gave him a better view of Draco’s face. His heart sank into his stomach. Draco was staring blindly forward. He was crying and the expression on his face was a mask of pain and anger. Looking down, Neville noticed Draco was clutching his right forearm with his left hand. He wondered if Draco had hurt it.
Harry’s soft, gentle words could just barely be heard over the blond’s harsh breathing. “You’re safe, Draco. You’re at Hogwarts. I’m here. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. It’s okay. Come back. You’re not there anymore. We’re safe now…”
Neville tore his eyes away from the two and stared helplessly down at his bed. He didn’t know what to do to help. This wasn’t anything like what had happened last night. Draco wasn’t scary or violent. He looked devastated, and the way Harry was speaking, so soft and full of love, brought tears to his eyes. Draco was hurting! He was hurting bad! Neville’s fists clenched in helplessness.
“Neville,” Harry called. His voice still soft, his tone soothing. “Can you get Draco and my pajamas and robe out for me. Lay them on the bed. Draco’s going to be really tired when he comes out of this.”
Neville nodded quickly, surprised he was being allowed to help. “Yes, of course,” he said softly, trying to match Harry’s tone.
He hurried to the armoire his friends shared. Harry talked him through where their night clothes were kept and Neville set them out on the bed. He drew the curtains closed on their bed except for on the right side where they could climb in and pulled down the sheets. He went around the room, turning off the lamps until only the one by his bed was lit. The whole time Harry kept talking to Draco softly, encouraging him, but he never once touched him.
Neville watched from the corner of his eyes as he changed and got ready for bed. He was just crawling under the covers when Draco seemed to shudder with a loud gasp and blink his eyes. Harry immediately enfolded him in a hug. At first Draco allowed it, a confused sound rising up his throat, but then he pushed Harry away, arms wrapped tightly around his torso.
“I’m fine,” he rasped, even as he shook violently.
Neville wisely lay still, pretending to be asleep as the blond glanced in his direction.
He peeked open his eyes to see Harry hovering by the blond’s side as they changed for bed. Neville thought he saw dark spots on Harry’s chest and stomach, but it must have been weird shadows. Then the boys were crawling into their curtained bed. Neville could hear them softly murmuring to each other for a few minutes and then there was silence.
Neville finally reached over to put out his light. He lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. He had no idea what his friends had been through, but he was beginning to understand that it was something truly horrible. He felt determination well up in his chest. He was going to help them. He didn’t care what he had to do; he was going to help them!
Chapter end.
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Freedom Bound in Chains