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
- 86
- 87
- 88
Remorse
Harry woke all at once with a gasp of air. Immediately tears sprung to his eyes and he grabbed at his throat. It felt like he’d swallowed fire. Ron snored softly in the other bed. Harry considered shaking his foot to wake him, but he decided against it. He had no idea what time the redhead had come to bed and it was technically vacation, so with a grimace he crawled out of bed and quickly dressed. The sun was just rising, brightening the room with gentle light as he slipped out of the room and quietly shut the door behind him. No one was in the common room, so he made his way to the infirmary alone.
Draco lay alone in the room lined with small white beds. Harry’s boot heels clicked quietly on the floor as he made his way to the blond’s side. Draco’s expression was peaceful. There was no blood dripping from his nose, no sense of distress or need and Harry’s shoulders relaxed. He gently stroked his fingertips over Draco’s forehead and let his magic trickle down through his touch.
Madam Pomfrey arrived at that point and she gave him a stern look. “You’re here rather early, Mr. Potter. I give you my word I will alert you to any change in his condition, so I’d rather you made sure you got enough rest.”
“Yes, Madam,” he replied, ducking his head submissively. His voice sounded wrecked, hardly above a whisper and extremely hoarse.
Madam Pomfrey’s eyes went wide. “Are you ill, Mr. Potter?” She didn’t wait for a response, gesturing him over to the bed next to Draco’s. “Hop up now. Let me get a reading.”
Harry obeyed, sitting still as she took her wand out and waved it over him. She was just finishing when the infirmary doors opened and Dumbledore entered with Andromeda and Ted in tow.
“Harry!” Andromeda rushed to his side. “What has happened? Why didn’t Narcissa contact me?” She looked both worried and furious as she stroked his hair once before crossing the distance to Draco’s bed. She bent over him, resting her hand over his brow. “What’s his condition?” she demanded of the nurse.
Ted came to stand beside her. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and gave Harry a reassuring smile, his blue eyes as warm as ever.
“He’s in a magically induced coma,” Madam Pomfrey explained, folding her hands in front of her over her white apron. “He and Harry were outside on the Solstice and were caught up in some fae magic.” Disapproval shaded her tone, her eyes cutting to Dumbledore. “At this point, I am only able to monitor Mr. Malfoy’s condition. He will have to awaken on his own.”
Andromeda frowned fiercely at the witch. The nurse was clearly more on the Christian side of the spectrum and did not approve of anything relating to the Wild ways. She looked to Harry for a more accurate accounting. “Harry?”
“Winter came to us,” he croaked painfully.
“His throat is inflamed,” Madam Pomfrey explained. “He drained his magic dangerously low yesterday afternoon and that can weaken the immune system. Let me get him an anti-inflammatory potion and an immune booster. It is likely a precursor to a cold.”
“It’s not Dragon Pox?” Ted asked in concern. He stepped away from Andromeda to place himself protectively at his ward’s side. The magical community had lost too many people to the Pox.
“No, there were no contagions in his blood,” Madam Pomfrey reassured him with a smile. She turned to Dumbledore. “Help me with the potions, Headmaster.”
Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “We will be but a moment. Feel free to stay with the boys for as long as you’d like,” he invited before following the nurse from the room.
Madam Pomfrey shut the door to the potions room firmly behind Dumbledore. She glared up at him. “I don’t approve of this at all, Headmaster. They need to know what I witnessed. The Malfoys should also be informed.”
“It was an innocent kiss,” Dumbledore said gently, trying to soothe her.
“There was more to it than that!” Madam Pomfrey’s face was flushed red and she nervously smoothed the hair that was already pulled back into a bun. She took a deep breath. “I understand they are bonded, Albus, but it can’t be allowed to go too far. You know that. To even remotely promote feelings of a sexual nature between them is reprehensible! Something should be done!”
Dumbledore’s cheerful expression took a more stern cast. “Mr. Malfoy was suffering a decline that you were unable to prevent. It is even possible the boy would have died under your care had it been left to continue. Miraculously, Mr. Potter was able to heal him. Is that not correct?”
Madam Pomfrey’s eyes went wide with horror at the thought of an innocent child dying in her ward. “Yes, but…”
“The boys are too young to accuse them of inappropriate behaviors,” he scolded her. “In any case, we have no knowledge of how their guardians would react to such an accusation. Are you willing to bare full responsibility for any action they may take?”
She looked away with a sense of guilt. There had been times in the past where they’d had to report to parents that their teenagers had been caught being promiscuous. The children had not fared well, punished to an excessive degree that made Madam Pomfrey deeply unhappy and had forever altered the child.
She understood that their society lived by very strict rules, especially the higher class. Sexual purity in both boys and girls was to be maintained until marriage. Bastard children were completely unacceptable to a people who prized blood-line purity above all else, but she did not agree with the more heavy-handed actions of some of the more traditional Pureblood parents. It was only natural for teenagers to be curious, after all.
As bad as promiscuity was seen in the eyes of the traditional Purebloods, it couldn’t even compare to the abhorrence of same-sex dalliances. She shivered to think of what Lord Malfoy would do to the children if he suspected their love for each other was sexual in nature.
“I have heard talk of same-sex pairs becoming more accepted in the Muggle world,” Dumbledore said softly, drawing her attention once more. He was staring at the potions lined neatly in her cabinet. “There are some even in the magical world who believe that it is only natural for a select few to be of that nature. They say magic wills as it wills.”
“So it was believed hundreds of years ago, back when we participated in human and animal sacrifices and kept slaves,” Madam Pomfrey snapped. She opened the cabinet and took two potions from the shelves. She gave him a stern look. “The morals of the Church have ensured magic stays pure and good and not corrupted by Evil. It states clearly that such a union is born from Evil and will beget more Evil.”
Dumbledore lifted an eyebrow as he met her eyes evenly. “I know my catechism, Poppy.”
She flushed. “Yes, of course. I did not meant to imply otherwise. I certainly don’t begin to understand the Muggles and their ideas.” She straightened her shoulders. “I will refrain from informing their guardians of Mr. Potter’s actions, but if another such instance occurs, I will have to say something, Albus. For the children’s sake.”
Dumbledore bowed his head. “I leave that to your good sense, Madam.”
She nodded back distractedly and left the room to return to her patients.
Ted and Andromeda were talking softly with Harry, the boy whispering so as not to hurt his throat too much. Ted was a big man with a rounding gut. His yellow-blond hair fell over his forehead, thick and healthy. His blue eyes were bright with both kindness and intelligence. He looked almost Muggle in the casual sweater and jacket he wore, paired with common slacks and boots. Andromeda on the other hand had dark brown hair that she left to fall untraditionally freely around her shoulders and down her back. She wore a long-sleeved dress with a full skirt that was completely acceptable by wizarding standards.
They were an odd pair, but they clearly cared for both children under their care. Surely they would steer the boys from the evil temptations. She certainly couldn’t count on the Malfoys to do the same; they had clearly come to celebrate the Darkest night of the year with the children instead of teaching them to ward against it by preparing for the celebration of the birth of the Lord of the Light.
Madam Pomfrey gave the two parents a warm smile before she gave both potions to Mr. Potter. He swallowed them obediently without complaint even though they most assuredly tasted foul and then continued his story. Pomfrey listened again to the end of Harry’s tale of dancing with a Winter fairy and being told that Draco was undergoing a trial.
“We should pray for his soul,” Madam Pomfrey said gently, casting a worried glance at the boy in the bed. “It is in the nature of Light to forever cut through Darkness and make it flee. Our prayers should do the same.”
Andromeda’s expression bore a shadow of a frown as she looked over at the nurse, and Dumbledore stepped in before words could be said.
“As Lady Malfoy was on the scene during the emergency, she legally had the right to make decisions regarding Draco and Harry’s care. She decided that the boys will stay here as it is quiet and secure until winter break is over,” Dumbledore informed them, eyes twinkling once again. “Is that acceptable to you?”
“Narcissa thinks taking him away from the ritual site might hurt Draco,” Harry added solemnly. His voice already sounded better, only a little raspy.
“Very well,” Andromeda very reluctantly agreed. “I would not want to worsen his condition by taking him away.” She slanted a pointed look at the nurse. “And I trust Harry’s accounting. If Winter promised to return Draco, then I will put my faith in that.”
Pomfrey’s eyes widened, surprised by the remark.
“I do not want any more occurrences, Headmaster,” Andromeda added, hazel eyes flashing as she met the old wizard’s twinkling blue eyes over Harry’s head.
“I’ll take care of Draco,” Harry promised earnestly, looking up at her.
Andromeda melted and wrapped him in a brief hug. “I know you will, sweetie. I’m glad you are alright. I was really worried when I received Dumbledore’s notification.” She smoothed his hair down, trying to tame it, and smiled into his eyes. “Why do such things always happen to you two?”
“Please be more prompt and thorough with your letters home,” Ted added, scolding the boy lightly. “You promised to keep us updated with your situation here.”
“Sorry, Ted.” Harry reached out and Ted easily took his hand in his larger one.
“I understand you’ve been preoccupied, son,” Ted reassured him, giving the small hand in his own a gentle squeeze. “Please do make the effort, though.”
“I will,” Harry promised.
As Dumbledore invited them to have breakfast with Harry in the Great Hall, Harry’s attention had returned to Draco. He reached under the blond’s collar and pulled out the necklace with the charmed coin. Very gently, he lifted it over Draco’s head and put it around his own neck.
He was ashamed it had taken him so long to think of it, but Draco had a mission and Harry was determined to see it through in Draco’s stead. The adults didn’t understand the significance of the necklace, so no comments or questions were asked. With a sweet smile, Harry took Ted’s hand again and led the way to the Great Hall.
…
The Tonkses left shortly after breakfast. The Weasley brothers had arrived just as they were preparing to leave and Andromeda visibly relaxed, knowing that Harry was not alone or friendless in the castle. She kissed Harry’s cheek and left feeling more at ease.
Harry waited for the Weasleys to finish eating and decide what they were doing for the day. Percy had some correspondence to take care of and the twins were already whispering together, so Ron suggested they visit Hagrid.
Together they went back up to the Tower to grab their warmest robes. The sun was bright in the sky, but there was at least a foot of snow on the ground, put there by the winter storm on the Solstice. They smiled as their feet crunched through the perfect white fluff as they made the trek down to the Grounds Keeper’s cabin.
They weren’t even halfway to Hagrid’s when they spotted the half-giant heading toward the forest. He had a lantern in his hand and wore an enormous satchel across his chest that was filled with something lumpy. Fang trotted at his heels.
Ron called out, waving his arm.
Hagrid stopped and turned, and they saw that he wore a dark expression.
“What’s wrong? What’s happened?” Ron asked, worried.
“Nothin’ to concern yerselves with,” Hagrid answered, unusually brusk. “Now’s not a good day to visit. Go on back to the castle now. Off w’ya.”
“Hagrid.” Harry met the man’s dark eyes boldly. “We can help you.”
Hagrid sighed, his hard expression melting into one of sorrow. Tears glittered in his eyes. “I suppose’n you could at tha’. Alright. Stay with me now.”
Ron was suddenly reluctant. He refused to let anything happen to the smaller boy. He’d failed spectacularly already this year, but Draco was absolutely correct. It wasn’t going to happen again. He gave Harry a worried glance, but Harry’s shoulders were set, his eyes full of determination. Sighing, Ron got his wand out and held it down by his thigh. He trailed after the two, alert to anything that could be dangerous and recited in his mind the most effective defensive spells he knew.
Oblivious to Ron’s concern, Hagrid led them deep into the forest. It was mid-morning, going on noon, but it was dark and shadowed under the forest’s canopy. Hagrid’s lantern cast light over the ground in front of them, allowing them to walk safely. Instead of bounding off and investigating, Fang stayed close to them, ears perked and head lowered.
It took them almost an hour before they came upon it. Ron gasped softly, his hand tightening around his wand. Harry stood frozen, horror filling his eyes with guilty tears that rolled down his pale cheeks. Hagrid knelt down slowly, head bowed, while Fang gave a low mournful howl.
The corpse was mangled. Chunks of white flesh and dark muscles had been torn from its neck, side, and abdomen. Silver blood had soaked into the ground, and the snow melted as soon as it touched it. The blood left a wide circle of uncovered decaying soil, killing the plants in the vicinity. Horrifically, the unicorn’s hair still shimmered in the light of the dappled sunlight. Still breathtakingly beautiful, the golden horn still had a soft sparkle, but the unicorn’s eyes were wide open and dark, devoid of life. A stillness hung over the body, chilling the boys to the core.
“It’s the third one,” Hagrid said, voice low and rough. “Don’t know wha’ could be doin' it. Not many things will attack a unicorn. An’ I don’ know of anythin’ with a mouth that small. Was a vicious thing though, almost bit her to th’ bone.”
Harry felt sick, the phantom memory of blood and flesh in his mouth, the screams of a horse, competed with the ghostly remembrance of Draco biting him all over this body, claiming and punishing. The duel sensations made Harry break out into a sweat and he wrapped his arms tightly around his chest.
Hagrid reached into his satchel and brought out fistfuls of dried sage. Tearfully, he explained, “To try an’ purify this place.”
After a moment, Ron moved to help, covering the body and the ground with Hagrid’s dried herbs. The smell of something like mint but with a more earthy aroma began to slowly surround them. It was clean and pure, and some of the darkness of this place lost its hold.
Harry forced his arms to uncross and took his wand from his pocket. His voice lifted, soft with sorrow as he began to cast, “Mai fod y ddaear dda yn feddal o danoch chi…” His voice rang reverent and clear. “May the good earth be soft under you when you rest upon it…”
Ron looked up at Harry from his knees, sage in his hands. The spell and prayer reached deep inside his heart and tears spilled freely down his cheeks.
“Ótan stirízetai se aftó boreí na eínai éfkolo na sas xekourásei… May it rest easy over you…”
Hagrid wept huge tears. His hands scattered the sage until the unicorn was completely covered.
Harry’s wand dipped and swayed, graceful and light. He poured his heart into the funeral prayer. “Ar an gcéad uair a leagann tú faoi… At the last you lay out under it…”
Ron had never been to a funeral, at least not when he was old enough to remember, thank Merlin, but something in him yearned to join Harry. He lifted his wand, pointing just above the sage-covered body. He felt his core respond, felt magic leave him on a sigh.
“E pode descansar tan suavemente sobre ti que a túa alma pode quedar fóra de debaixo dela rapidamente…” Harry’s wand tip spiraled, gentle circles stirring the air around them. A cold, cleansing wind gently tugged at their robes and hair, and yet, the sage stayed as if glued to the ground and body where it had been placed. “And may it rest so lightly over you that your soul may be out from under it quickly…”
Ron and Hagrid felt the forest respond, felt their magic join Harry’s. Green sprouts began to push through the tainted dirt where innocent blood had spilled. They grew with slow grace. Bright green leaves and dark green, they created a bed for the unicorn to lay on.
“Agus suas agus as… And up and off…” Harry finished in a whisper, casting his wand forward and up as if to point the spirit of the unicorn to the sky.
Ron’s breath caught while Hagrid made a soft sound of awe. Purple bell-like flowers with white and yellow at their heart began to bloom with the soft opening of sleepy eyes among the green leaves around the base of the unicorn’s body. Thick stalks grew tall and thick at least three feet into the air. Little flowers with white skirts bloomed in a thick bunch along the top of each, blocking the body from view behind their sheltering screen.
Ron wrapped his arms around his friend as Harry’s wand dropped limply to his side. Harry leaned heavily into his side, clearly exhausted, but the feeling of evil had dispersed. The body of the murdered unicorn was gone and in its place was a garden of surpassing beauty that miraculously existed in spite of the snow and cold of winter.
“Morning glories and acanthus,” Hagrid murmured. He gave Harry a beautiful smile. “Thank ya, Harry. That was beautiful.”
Harry couldn’t bring himself to smile, but he nodded his head. “It was only possible because you brought the sage, Hagrid.” He looked up at his friend. His throat felt tight with grief and regret. “Thank you for coming to put her to rest.” He gestured at the flowers. “They wouldn’t have bloomed if she was still hurting. She can stop crying now.”
Hagrid put his large heavy hands gently on the two boys’ shoulders. They stood there for a few minutes more before Hagrid cleared his throat and lifted his lamp. His satchel now hung empty at his hip. “We best be off. It’s too cold to be standin’ around.”
Ron and Harry walked silently in Hagrid’s wake, following him out of the forest and back into the sunshine. Ron knew he wouldn’t speak of this with his brothers. Not because he wanted to keep it secret, but because there were no words to describe how equally horrific and beautiful the experience had been.
Looking over at his friend, Ron took Harry’s hand in his own. He had always known Harry was special, but it wasn’t because of a scar on his forehead or a Dark Wizard. Harry was special because he was magic in the way of Solstice festivals and dark woods, and Ron felt a more powerful urge to protect him than ever before.
They stayed with Hagrid for the rest of the afternoon. It was spent pleasurably as they listened to the giant man coo at his egg that was still bundled up next to the roaring fire. Hagrid told them, excitement and love in his eyes, that he’d seen it move and rock a few times.
“Might not be long now,” he boomed joyfully, running a fingertip over the hot shell. “Dependin’ on the breed, it could be born in as soon as a week The Northern breeds take longer, the harsh winters would kill a hatchlin’ right quick, but the Southern breeds have been known to hatch sooner. Gives ‘em more time to get strong enough to hunt fer food on their own durin’ summer and autumn. They got to be big an’ strong ‘nough to survive their first winter, ya know. Dragon mama’s aren’t much for coddlin’ their young. Believe in tough love, they do.”
Ron and Harry shared a smile and took turns making guesses about what the baby would look like and how soon it would take for it to catch Hagrid’s beard on fire. Of course, it wasn’t even certain it was a fire-breather, but the thought made them all laugh.
“Did you have fun with Hagrid?” Percy asked as they all met up for dinner.
Ron and Harry shared a look, answering in unison, “Yes.”
Fred and George gave them a suspicious look, but neither of the boys would elaborate. Fortunately, Hedwig chose that moment to fly in and land in front of Harry. She had a letter tied to her leg. Harry cooed at her and made a big fuss. He stroked her feathers and fed her some meat, apologizing for not visiting her more often and thanking her for her hard work. Hedwig preened under his attention, feathers ruffled in pleasure, eyes heavy-lidded, making Percy chuckle.
“Who’s it from?” Ron asked, mouth full of mashed potatoes.
Harry was tempted to tell him that it wasn’t polite to speak with your mouth full, Narcissa and Andromeda’s voices echoing in his head, but he let it go. Ron seemed immune to all attempts to teach him manners, so Harry said nothing and looked at the handwriting on the envelope.
“Remus,” he recognized happily, but then he remembered the last letter Draco had sent their oldest friend.
It had been two weeks ago and had been about the Stone. Harry shoved the letter into his pocket unopened. Percy and the twins didn’t know about the Stone or their mission to stop it from being stolen. He smiled and finished dinner as if the letter wasn’t burning a hole in his pocket, but he stood when desert appeared on the table.
“I’m going to check on Draco and call it a night early,” he told them. Truth be told, he was pretty tired from the ritual in the forest.
Ron looked mournfully at the cakes and pies, but he stood to go with his friend. “I’ll go with you.”
Percy and the twins thought nothing of it and let the two boys go off on their own. Draco was still sleeping with they got to the Infirmary. Harry again brushed his fingertips over Draco’s forehead and bathed him with his magic. Ron guided him away before Pomfrey could scold them.
“So what’s the letter about?” he asked as they changed into their sleep clothes and got ready for bed.
Harry gave Ron a smile, amused that his friend hadn’t been fooled by his casual act. “Let’s find out.” He sat on the edge of his bed, Ron sitting next to him, and opened the letter.
Dear Draco,
I deeply regret not writing to you sooner. I have been buried in a few research projects as of late. One of which was why I left my sickbed while I was indisposed after Samhain. I do not have clear memories of the night, but I was greatly distressed that I wandered around during my fever. I did some research into the topic, even contacted a few friends overseas. They had some interesting theories regarding my sleepwalking.
Now, regarding the information you requested, I found out what you wanted to know. It’s too complicated to review in a letter, but since it’s Yule break why don’t you ask the Headmaster if you could stop by my cottage for tea. We can catch up and you can tell me about school.
Looking forward to your visit,
Remus
Harry looked over at Ron with a grin. “He knows how to destroy the Stone.”
Ron’s face lit up with excitement. “That’s great! Wanna go tomorrow?”
Harry nodded, folding the letter up. He went to the desk and tucked the letter inside to share with Draco later before turning back to Ron. The idea of sleeping alone made him feel unsettled somehow, Draco’s absence a void, so he asked, “Want to sleep with me?”
Ron shrugged. “Sure.” He grew up in a house with seven siblings. Sharing a bed was not unusual or uncommon.
He was about to get under the covers with his friend when a squeak sounded through the door. Ron got up to open it. A fat, greying rat looked up at him, whiskers twitching. “Scabbers!” Ron smiled as he picked up his pet. “Where’ve you been all day? You’re usually back by now.”
The rat chittered and squeaked in answer, rubbing his soft cheek against Ron’s fingers, making the redhead smile.
Petting him gently, Ron carried Scabbers to the box filled with rags that he’d made into a soft bed. He set the rat gently inside and retrieved a few pieces of cheese that he kept in a bag just for his pet. “There you go.” He stroked the rat’s back one last time before he hurried over the cold stone floor and jumped back into bed with Harry.
Harry giggled as he bounced with the force of Ron’s landing, and Ron shoved him playfully on the shoulder. “Go to sleep, Harry. I know you’re tired.”
Harry nodded, a yawn stretching his face briefly. “Night, Ron.” He turned on his side so that he was facing his friend and closed his eyes.
“Night, Harry,” Ron answered, turning off the lamp that sat on the bedside table.
…
The man hadn’t thought to put the two boys together. It was fucking brilliant though! He’d been thinking about this all bloody day, his balls aching. He spelled the boys into a deep, dreamless sleep and got them both ready. First thing he did was strip them both naked. Then he raided the brunet’s armoire.
The dark-haired child lay plaint and sleep heavy as he carefully lifted each slender leg one at a time and slid the white, silk stockings up his legs. The silk went up a few inches past the boy’s knees, framing delicious slender thighs that were only just beginning to grow taunt with muscle.
The man panted over the boy, already rock hard. He stared obsessively at the soft skin framed by white silk. Almost drooling, he grabbed the boy’s thighs with each hand, his thumb digging in as he pulled them wide open. The little whore was remarkably flexible, more so than the other boys he’d played with, including the redhead that slept oblivious at the brunet’s side.
Releasing the boy’s legs, he took up the small, white lace panties. He placed each stocking-covered foot through the leg holes and slid them up the boy’s legs. He had to lift the kid by the thigh high enough that his ass was off the bed to get them all the way on.
The panties were small and tight with a barely there bulge between his legs. Rolling him over carelessly, the man groaned at the sight of that small round butt, the cheeks half covered by lace. That pert little ass, those slender legs encased in silk, thighs bare, lying on his stomach completely vulnerable and spread like a bitch in heat, he was a too excited and began to fist his cock at a furious pace, unable to contain himself.
He leaned over the boy. His hand pressed deep into the mattress beside the messy head of black hair. The kid’s head tilted toward the depression and he imagined the pretty whore leaning in, begging to be touched. It took only a few minutes of grunting and groaning before he spurt all over that long, naked back.
The white dragon paced restlessly under the boy’s cum-spattered skin, clearly uneasy and on guard, but unable to act. The man laughed out right. As he caught his breath, he lifted the little corset he’d found.
He rolled the boy over, pressed it against the kid’s front and rolled him back onto his stomach. He brought the two ends together and began to do up the laces. He was gentle at first, but once he had it on, he began to yank with brutal force, cinching the child’s waist as small as it could go, and it was fucking tiny!
The boy’s breathing became soft little, breathless gasps that had the man leaking. Eyes wide, pupils huge, he rolled the boy over onto his back and pulled so that the edge of the bed caught the boy under his knees. With trembling fingers, he pressed those silk clad knees open as far as the bed allowed them, stocking toes just barely brushing the ground. The whore was a bloody masterpiece!
Two spots of color had appeared on the boy’s cheeks. His pink lips had parted to get in more air, his breathing shallow and light, faster than normal, mimicking arousal. The corset sat just under the kid’s chest and bound the ribs. Two pink nipples sat above the material and the man flicked them hard, making them pebble.
He pulled on those small nubs, tugging restlessly, as his eyes remained fixated with that tiny waist. The corset made the kid’s hips look wider, like a girl’s. Breathless, he left off twisting the whore’s nipples and wrapped his hands around that tiny waist. He moaned, low and hungry, his thumbs only an inch and a half away from touching. The tight lace panties that held the kid’s small junk so tightly only enhanced the illusion that he was looking at a little girl, not a boy.
“Merlin,” he groaned, grateful tears in his eyes.
He wasn’t a pervert. He didn’t prefer boys and definitely would never fuck a man, but he was desperate, forced to sate his needs on the boys he had access to. Really there wasn’t much difference between a girl and a boy if the kid was young enough anyway, he’d told himself, and eventually it had stopped mattering as he chased after that moment of perfect pleasure again and again. But now… seeing the image of a dark-haired girl laid out on the bed… he felt a red curtain of lust fall over him like never before.
His heart boomed in his ears, his pulse pounding in his throat. He fell on the girl’s swollen nipples, ravenous, and sucked as if his life depended on it. Sucked until his spit slicked the girl’s chest, soaked into the top of the corset, and slid down her sides to dampen the bed beneath her. He sucked until the girl’s nipples were round and fat, her breasts swollen into the soft mounds of a girl on the cusp of becoming a true woman.
He scrambled to get his camera and took several pictures, thrilling in the red and blue bruises that were beginning to form along the girl’s small chest. Tears of awe streaking his face, the man carelessly dropped the camera onto the bed and brushed his hand over his cock. It was so rigid and slick with pre-cum that it almost hurt to touch.
“I’m gonna fuck you good, sweetie,” he promised his sweet girl, almost delirious with lust.
Roughly, he pulled the redheaded boy so that he was lying with his head falling over the edge of the mattress, his slack mouth open, his face upside down. More carefully his scooped his little girl up into his arms bridal style, her head resting limply against the crook of his neck and shoulder. He laid her down on top of the other boy, face up. He wasn’t done with those sweet, tiny breasts.
As she settled on the boy underneath her, her head tipped back, falling between the redhead’s legs, her long throat extended and vulnerable and obscuring her face slightly. The man imagined her tossing her head back in passion, offering more of herself to be devoured. She was still making those quick gasping noises, hardly able to breathe around the constriction of the corset. The man gripped the small mounds of her breasts and squeezed.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Gonna make you feel so good,” he rasped.
One hand still groping her chest, he used the other to hold his cock down and away from his body, aimed between the girl’s tender thighs. “That’s it, take me in good, that’s my good little whore,” he rasped, hoarse and hardly able to talk around the thunder roaring in his blood.
He slid past the redhead’s gaping lips. At this angle, only the first few inches were able to penetrate the boy’s throat, but the slick, constricting heat around his inflamed head was ecstasy. Grabbing the girl’s tiny waist tight, he slid her down as far as she could go so that it looked like his fat cock was disappearing into her tiny body.
At first, he rocked softly backward and forward, eyes riveted on the girl’s lace panties and staring at his hands gripping her round hips. The man's body felt electric. He needed more, needed to be deeper in her perfect heat.
Before he knew it, he was slamming forward at a brutal speed, yelling mindlessly. The girl’s head rocked up and down limply, yanked down over the redhead’s crotch and then shoved up to fall down between the boy’s legs over and over. The man watched the motion through a fevered haze until it looked like she was moving with him, mouth slack and gasping in pleasure, cheeks red with arousal, fucking him as hard as he was fucking her, and holy shit he was cumming!
He slammed his hips forward, his body spasming, his vision black as his whole existence became electric static.
It felt like it went on forever, pleasure spiking into agony before he blinked blurry eyes and found himself collapsed over the limp bodies of two boys. Small teeth were pressing painfully into the base of his softening cock and he pulled his hips back with a hiss before rolling over.
Shivers wracked his frame. His heart still beat an exhilarated beat against his ribs. Euphoria gave the candle-lit room a soft haze. He sat up, panting and soaked with sweat. He felt invincible, incredible! Colors seemed brighter, the world more full of magic.
Time seemed to stop.
In a moment of perfect clarity, horror washed over him.
He found himself his knees, the brunet tossed carelessly aside. He hovered over the redheaded boy he’d laid out on the floor with desperate speed. The boy’s face was swollen and blotchy, eyes open and bugged out. His jaw was dislocated, hanging unhinged like a snake’s. He wasn’t breathing. There was no life in his eyes. His heavy body lay terrifyingly still.
The man could hear nothing but ringing in his ears as he realized he’d hurt a child, murdered a child. He understood with powerful self-loathing that the acts he’d been performing on these children were heinous. Hysterical, he swore in an endless mental loop that he’d stop, that he’d repent, as he cast the Revival Spell over and over. If Ronald would just breathe, the man would fix it, he’d fix everything!
The boy suddenly gasped, his heart giving a sudden kick before settling into a steady rhythm. The man hugged the child to his chest, sobbing. He smoothed Ronald’s hair and whispered that it would be okay over and over. The boy’s jaw still hung unattached and drool slicked his chin. Pain filled the boy’s eyes and he cried like a child much younger, frightened and confused. The man couldn’t risk putting him to sleep, not when he’d been technically dead for who knew how many minutes.
“Shhh, it’s okay. I’m going to fix it,” he promised desperately. With clumsy hands, he shifted the boy’s jaw, trying to put it back into place.
Ron arched with a high-pitched shriek of pain, his arms lashing weakly in panic.
“Hush!” the man ordered just as he felt the soft snap as the joint locked together.
Scrambling to his hidden stash, the man watched as Ron curled into a ball whimpering and sobbing, hands clutching his face. He quickly grabbed a healing potion and returned to the boy’s side. Ron fought him, scratching and arching his body away, but he forced the potion down the kid’s throat.
Almost immediately, Ron’s strength left him and he went limp, eyes heavy-lidded as he continued to cry softly.
The man cradled the boy close, heart still pounding with adrenaline and terror. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe now,” he whispered.
They rocked together until the boy fell into an exhausted natural sleep. The man held him a moment longer before gently laying him on the floor. His legs had gone numb from sitting so long and he grimaced as he got to a knee before pushing clumsily up into a standing position. His eyes immediately fell on the dark-haired child.
Harry lay on his side, one arm trapped underneath him, the other limp over his corseted waist and resting on the bed. His legs hung over the edge, awkwardly twisted. The soft, helpless gasps for air no longer seemed sexy but desperate and terrifying. The man practically threw himself at the child and tore at the laces to get the corset off.
When Harry took his first full breath of air, the man burst into sobs. Tenderly, he stripped the child of the inappropriate underwear and stockings and washed Harry’s skin clean. He apologized again and again as applied a healing cream to the boy’s brutalized chest.
Once Harry’s bruises were seen to, he dressed the boy in one of his night shirts and a sleep robe before tucking him safely under the covers of his bed. He gave Ron the same treatment, the boy moaning in his sleep, fitful and still afraid. The man soothed him as best he could.
“I’m so sorry,” he said again and again, tears in his eyes as he brushed short red hair off a pale, freckled face. Chastely kissing the boy’s forehead, he lifted his wand and cast, “Obliviate.”
Chapter end.
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Freedom Bound in Chains