Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Freedom Bound in Chains	By : TaintedSensibly Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 58477 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 13
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Harry Potter characters. I did not make money from this story.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
A/N: This chapter really pushed at my comfort zone. I'd love to have feedback on it.

Chapter Warning: non-con, death, fisting, oral, anal, torture.

x x x

Destruction

Life at Brendon's settled into a type of rhythm. Harry cleaned the apartment, did laundry for all three of them, and cooked all the meals. Draco hated having Harry downstairs, so he ended up taking over the basement clean. Draco also made sure to corner Brendon whenever possible to learn how the underground worked.

Drugs, human trafficking, killers for hire, there was a very busy black market in New York City beyond the master Draco had known, and he would have to become an expert at navigating his and Harry's underground lives or face getting caught and separated. Living off the radar with no schooling, records, or family wasn't exactly going to be easy.

xxx

“How many Families are in New York?” Brendon quizzed.

They were sitting at the low coffee table in front of the tv while Harry was in the kitchen washing their breakfast dishes.

“Five,” Draco answered easily. “Gambino, Genovese, Bonanno, Lucchese, and Colombo.”

“Right,” Brendon praised. “Now that you have the basics of each Family and their relative territories in New York, let's talk about current events.” He leaned back and draped his arms along the seats of the couch behind them. “The Families are in turmoil right now, which is why I'm able to hide you. Last year, the FBI arrested a lot of powerful people under the RICO Act. Anthony Salerno, Anthony Corallo, and Carmine Persico, bosses of the Genovese, Lucchese and Colombo groups, are especially in hot water. But the Feds won't stop there. They're after all five Families. The trials will start in the next couple months and most everyone is focused on that right now.”

Brendon met Draco's eyes solemnly. “Raymond was an underboss to Corallo, the Lucchese Family Head. I heard evidence is strong against Corallo. He'll likely not make it out of the trial. Vittorio Amuso is throwing his weight around, trying to become the next Head, but Anthony Luongo is fighting him for it. They are very dangerous, Draco. Stay away from the Lucchese. Out of sight, out of mind.”

Draco held that intense gaze and nodded once. “I'll remember.”

Brendon gave a crooked smile. “Good.” He stood and stretched his arms over his head, bending back slightly. His eyes fell on Harry who was humming as he worked at the sink, but they slid away without a change in expression.

Draco watched Brendon carefully. It had been six days and he had never given Draco a reason not to trust him, but that just meant Brendon hadn't betrayed them yet, not that he wouldn't.

“In any case, I'm affiliated loosely with John Gotti, the Gambino Family Head. They call him the Teflon Don because the Feds can't make charges stick. He's your biggest ally if Amuso or Luongo come after you.” Brendon pushed his thick brown hair away from his face and, looking down at Draco, added, “Make sure everything is spotless. I've got big plans for tonight!” That said, he went to the door, scooped up his keys, and shut it behind him without giving Draco another glance.

Draco relaxed and went to the counter. Harry looked over at him immediately, and Draco gave him a smile. “I'll be back in four hours. Then we'll go to the park.”

“Okay, Draco,” Harry answered with tranquil green eyes, black hair a mess as always - calm peace love.

Reaching forward, Draco ran his fingertips down Harry's cheek before heading out.

x x x

Draco made sure they went outside every day. In fact, it was the most important part of their day. After familiarizing themselves with the surrounding ten blocks, they were able to go to all the parks and playgrounds in the area.

They were happiest when they were playing, lost in their imaginations and leaving everything else behind. They even played with other children and learned new games: tag, dodge ball, pirates, hide and seek, and kickball were among their favorites.

x x x

It was a beautiful afternoon. The park had grassy space, a few old trees, and a small pond. A handful of boys were kicking around a soccer ball. Draco recognized two of them – John and Timothy, brothers - one seven and the other nine. Grinning, Draco ran up, yelling a greeting. Harry jogged behind him – excited happy.

“Let's form teams an' play kickball!” Draco suggested. “Me, Harry, Timothy against you four!”

His shoulder-length blond hair fell around his face and got into his eyes, so he'd taken to pulling it back into a high ponytail while they played. His cheeks were flushed with happiness and his eyes were a relaxed grey. Harry always looked ruffled, his short black hair sticking up in places, but he was smiling and his eyes were bright.

They both wore sneakers with thick socks and jeans with three layers on top: t-shirt, sweater, jacket. Everything they wore were in muted colors: grays, blacks, dark blues and purples. Just in case they needed to disappear into the shadows. Their breath clouded in front of their faces still as they edged into March, the highs only making it to the upper forties, but it was clear skies.

Squeezing Harry's hand in his, Draco turned to him with a smile and released him. “Harry, get somethin' ta be bases.”

“Okay!” Harry took off, obediently looking for items that would work.

“This is Draco,” Timothy explained to the other boys. He was grinning a big stupid grin, which always reminded Draco of a puppy.

“Who made 'em boss?” a read-headed boy of about ten demanded. He stared at Draco with narrowed blue eyes.

“Just wan'ed to play a game,” Draco answered innocently, but he met the boy's stare head on. The redhead looked away first. “You don't havta if ya don't want.”

“I wanna play!” John cried, jumping with his fist in the air. “And I'm gonna beat ya this time, Draco!”

Harry returned and then everyone was too busy playing to argue.

xxx

Life was perfect.

xxx

Draco and Harry walked arm in arm down the street. It was dark, almost nine. The club wouldn't be busy for another couple of hours, so they should be able to slip in without fighting a crowd. Draco's knees ached where he had scrapped them sliding to home base. Harry's legs were warm and wobbly from running around so much. It had been a great day.

“What're ya plannin' for dinner?” Draco asked as they turned the corner onto their street. He was looking toward the slightly smaller boy while Harry looked back at him, their faces only an inch or two apart.

“I put roast and veggies in the slow cooker,” Harry answered happily. “It should be done.”

“Sounds good.” Draco leaned that small distance forward and kissed Harry's lips as softly as a snowflake falling before pulling away.

At their door, they saw the security mesh was up. Brendon was in. Draco unlocked the steel door. Once they were inside, he turned and re-locked the steel door again before grabbing Harry's hand and climbing the stairs to the apartment.

They could smell the stew, the richness of it, from the hallway. It made Draco's stomach growl. Eager for a good meal, Draco quickly unlocked the apartment door and burst in, Harry's hand still held safe in his own.

In that moment, it was as if time stood still. He could see his arm outstretched, could feel the smile on his face, could smell Harry's delicious stew. But his peripheral recognized body shapes that shouldn't be there. His smile melted and his head turned in slow motion as his hand clamped down punishingly hard around Harry's.

Two large guys in suits stood against either wall. Two men on the couch, one Brendon, the other a stranger. The metal gleam along the silver gun as the man on the couch held it to Brendon's head. All eyes were turned toward Draco and Harry as they came in the door. He could hear the heavy tread of boots as they began to climb up the stairs behind them. They were trapped.

The man with the gun began to grin, flashing teeth. He was a chubby guy. Thick dark hair, dusky skin. Square face with a bulbous nose that had been broken a few times. Italian. Mafia. Brendon sat casually, face calm and unimpressed, but Draco could see the tension in his eyes.

“Welcome home, bambini,” the gunman called cheerfully, voice rich and deep. “Come. Sit here. Let's have a chat.” He gestured with his fee hand toward the coffee table.

Draco's heart pumped smooth and firm in his chest. He felt the last six days peel away and the cold clarity of the Hold settle down on his mind like a coating of ice. His first priority was Harry's safety and, as he took small steps forward, he released Harry's hand and said cold and quiet into the boy's mind, * Eyes on the floor, Harry. Don't speak. Hear only me and be ready to move if I say. *

- fear obedience trust -

Draco stopped short of the coffee table, face an empty mask. Harry stood at his back.

“Come now, bambino. Sit. Let me get a good look at you.” The man gestured more firmly, smile getting wider, more dangerous, at the small disobedience.

* On your knees, Harry. Next to the end of the table and in front Brendon's legs. Keep your head down, eyes on the floor. Be small and quiet, * Draco ordered as he slid in front of the table and sat on the end. He had to turn his body slightly at an angle to face the gunman.

The man casually reached forward, grabbed Draco's arm hard enough to bruise, and slid him down the coffee table so he was sitting in the middle and directly in front of the man. Draco kept still and empty as his chin was held by hard fingers and titled this way and that.

“Bel ragazzo,” the bastard exclaimed. The gun never wavered once, still held an inch from Brendon's temple. “I can see why Raymond would hold onto you, bambino, and why this feccia Gambino would steal you.”

“I did not steal him, Luongo,” Brendon denied calmly. “The boy escaped. A few days later he called me begging for shelter.” He gave a dangerous smile of his own. “Finder's keepers.”

The gun whipped down and slammed into Brendon's head, sending the man sideways with blood dripping from his hairline. Besides his arm, Luongo had hardly moved. He was still smiling, but now his eyes were on Brendon as the other man sat up.

“I've always hated you, Irish cagna. Thinking you're bigger than you are,” he said cheerfully before turning back to Draco. “It is good news to hear, that you understand begging. Let's hear it, schiavo. Let's hear some begging.”

He released Draco's face finally by giving it a shove. Draco shifted his shoulders and slid to his knees in front of the men. It trapped him between them and the coffee table that was now at his back. He put his wrist together and held his hands over his head as he curled over his thighs. His palms faced up, supplicating.

“Please,” he said softly, voice empty. “Please.”

“Bellissimo,” Luongo cried happily. Draco couldn't see him with his face down by his knees, but he could feel it in his core as the man's evil eyes slid to Harry. “And this one. Does he beg?”

“He's stupid, master,” Draco offered, voice still soft to hide the hateful hiss that wanted to slip out. “Can't talk. Doesn't understand most things.”

Luongo's leg lifted and Draco braced for what he knew was coming. The man stomped down on his neck and shoulders. Draco was slammed flat. His jaw immediately throbbing from where it hit the floor. He could feel blood from where he bit his lip. He returned to the curled over position, hands together and open, without a sound as his neck and shoulders began to burn from the blow.

“Did I speak to you, schiavo? You've forgotten your place,” Luongo growled. “Strip!” Then toward Harry, “You! Strip! Schiavo don't wear clothes!”

Draco sat up and pulled off his jacket, placing it on the floor and slightly under the table. Then the sweater and shirt. He had to stand to remove his pants. He kicked off his shoes, pulled off his socks quickly, and removed his pants and underwear. Harry hadn't moved an inch from his cowering, silent position at the end of the table.

- fear anxiety trust –

Draco, completely bare, slid back to his knees in the begging pose.

Luongo laughed. “All this for defective product, O'Shae. Although the bel ragazzo is well trained.” A leather Italian shoe toed Draco's head.

“This is a matter for the Commission,” Brendon said coldly, eyes unblinking and predatory. “The Families cannot afford a street war between Gambino and Lucchese with the Feds sniffing around.”

BANG!

– TERROR –

Draco's head whipped up. Wide eyes unbelieving, he stared at Brendon as he fell sideways. The smell of blood and gunpowder filled his nose. Red was spilling out of Brendon's head, had sprayed the wall in a fine mist. One eye was pushed out slightly, bulging. His scull misshapen. Dead and limp and gone forever in a single brutal instant.

Harry was panting, couldn't catch his breath. Draco could feel how close Harry was to passing out. He met Luongo's eyes and the man flashed him a toothy grin.

“Cagna don't give orders,” he told Draco almost gently. He reached forward and grabbed Draco by the hair. “While we're here, I heard there were special rooms downstairs. Let's see what we can find. I suddenly feel like celebrating.”

Draco could hardly think around the image of Brendon's broken head and deformed features.

“Stephano. You can have the bambino muto.”

Draco was pulled to his feet by a vicious hold on his hair and practically dragged toward the door. He saw from the corner of his eyes as one of the big men knelt and began touching Harry's hair and face. The little boy's eyes were huge and glassy and beautifully green. Draco stumbled down the stairs, giving a little cry as his scalp screamed in pain. He was ignored. Then they were going down to the basement and Draco felt his shock shatter.

- terrrorpanicterror -

Draco was pulled to the stage in the center of the exhibition room. Luongo turned and lifted him, pushing him carelessly onto the wooden platform. He was talking to the three other men, one of which held Harry. Telling them to explore and have fun.

Draco watched through glittering eyes as two of the thugs went toward a spanking bench.

Laughing and bantering back and forth, they set Harry on top and began to pull off his clothes. Luongo was at the clear case. The butt of his gun shattered the glass and he cheerfully examined the toys there. The last thug stood by the stage, his eyes glued to Draco's naked flesh as he lowered the chains from the ceiling and cuffed Draco's wrists. He was pulled upward by his arms until his shoulders began to burn painfully, his toes barely brushing the stage.

“Bellissimo,” Luongo practically purred. He ran his hand down Draco's chest and over his side as he moved to stand at Draco's back. “Let's see if I can remind you who you belong to, schiavo.”

* Harry. I need you to listen to me. Can you do that? * Draco asked, pushing his voice forward across the distance separating them.

- terror confusion anxiety – Green eyes shifted slightly to meet Draco's from across the room. Harry was nearly naked now as four hands roamed roughly over his skin. He was breathing fast, skinny chest rising and falling as fast as a bird's.

Harry gave a sharp, high cry as he was turned onto his stomach and pressed down so that he was draped over the bench, head hanging and ass tilted up. His ass cheeks were spread. Crude suggestions and sick jokes, and a thumb was pressed dryly into the tight virgin hole. Harry gave a pained yelp, eyes squeezed shut as he tried to focus on Draco's voice and nothing else.

One of the men moved in front of the bench by Harry's head. He was unzipping his pants and rubbing himself until he was hard. Harry whimpered. The silken feel of the slimy tip as it rubbed across his mouth made his stomach turn. A bitter smell filled his nose. Then a hand was on his face, forcing his mouth open.

SNAP – a bloody line appeared diagonally down the child's pale and scarred back from shoulder blade to ass cheek.

The whip lashed down across Draco's shoulders and back, warm blood flowed instantly. Tears rolled down his pale face as he watched the scene from across the room, but his voice held none of his fear and grief. It remained hard, commanding.

* It's going to be okay, Harry. I promise. It's going to be over real soon. But until then I want you to dream. I want you to leave your body behind. *

Christiano pressed his dick into the warm, wet mouth, past the small petal lips. Barely halfway in, he was already hitting the back of a silken throat. He groaned and muttered a prayer of gratitude in Italian under his breath. The thick black hair was easy to fist, and he pressed the slave's head lower so that he could angle down that tight throat. Those petal lips instinctively wrapped around him and sucked, the instincts of a baby. Chris hissed in pleasure, feeling that gentle suction down to his core.

Crack! - and now there was an X crisscrossing the small of his back, showing the white of bone where they met. Through gritted teeth, Draco gave a low moan of pain.

* Go away to the park. With the yellow monkey bars. Build it in your mind. As much detail as you can. Go there, Harry. Away from here. Just for a while, okay? I'll come get you when it's all over. I promise, Harry. I'm going to come get you. But you have to go there now. *

Eyes slitted, holding the boy captive, Chris pressed forward until the seem of his open pants hit the boy's face. The small throat convulsed around him. The green eyes were wide with terror and wet, tears spilling as Chris bounced his hips, refusing to pull out from the tiny throat completely.

Chris watched the outline of his dick in the child's throat moving in and out and his heart hammered in pure ecstasy. He spurt a bit and laughed as the boy thrashed weakly, face red. Chris pulled back, let the small tongue writhe around him, let the boy gasp and sob and whine like an animal. Fuck it felt so damn good!

* Harry! Can you see the green grass? Focus, Harry! Do as I say! *

Snap! - a third line, this one nearly horizontal across the meaty muscles just under the shoulder blades. The whip curled around the boy's side and tore the flesh open. Draco yelped. He was panting as if he were running a marathon, drinking in the pain, back arched, head flung back.

Harry gave a long, loud whine of fear as the hard flesh pushed back into his mouth, over his tongue and into the back of his throat. His heart beat so fast it felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. He was shaking all over and long since crying. A hand fisted his hair to hold his head steady just as a wet, hard finger was shoved into him from behind. Harry arched with a scream.

- TERROR painpainpain -

* You are mine and you WILL listen! *

CRACK! - across the small of the back at a slight angle. The pain blackened Draco's vision and he let loose his first scream, his body now hanging limp.

Harry closed his eyes tight and tried to think past the fear and pain. (jaw burning, throat on fire, can't breathe can't breathe) Draco was with him. He needed to listen to Draco. (hands on his hips, fingers breaking him open until he wanted to scream and scream and please make it all stop) Draco was mad. He had to listen. Anything for Draco.

* There's a wind, and the sky is blue and clear. You go over to the yellow bars. They shine in the sunlight, don't they? *

The park. Slowly, Harry could see it. The pain faded and the basement disappeared. The park was empty. Just a few trees, empty sidewalks on all sides, tall brick buildings, grass under his sneakers. The trees whispered in the wind as the leaves swayed. The yellow bars gleamed. The sky, blue without a cloud. Just as Draco had described.

* You can smell the rust and metal of them. You grab hold and your hands burn as you swing across, but it's fun, and you're happy and safe. *

Harry could feel the metal under his hands if he concentrated. Could smell the rusty iron of them. He grabbed the first bar and let his body fall forward, held by his hands alone. Then he began to swing. Waiting for Draco. Draco had promised he'd come. Until then, he'd swing on the bars. Safe and far away. He was gone.

Snap! - this one was almost dead center down his back, tracing his spine. Draco's stomach heaved and acidic bile and vomit splattered the front of the stage.

Even through the agony, Draco grinned a wolf's grin. Hot searing pain and then the tacky feel of blood sliding down his back, but Draco's focus was on the bond. Harry's emotions slowly muted. Even as he watched the bastard shove two lubed fingers into Harry's body and roughly scissored them apart. Even as the other began carelessly fucking Harry's face. Harry was safe.

Stephano pulled his fingers free of the slave boy's body as he watched Chris get a smooth rhythm in the brat's throat. His partner's eyes were half-lidded, his mouth slightly open in pure pleasure. Oh, yeah, this slave was going to be a good ride. He slathered lube over his rock hard cock and flung it away. With rough hands, he lifted one of the boy's legs up, bent at the knee, and hooked it around his wrist, his hand planted next to the boy's hip on the padded bench. It opened the boy up without having to hold the cheeks apart and put the boy at the perfect hight for his cock.

Crack! - Draco's voice high and clear pierced through the sounds of sex.

Breathing hard, Stephano stared at the short but thick length of his shaft pulsing hotly as it rested against the child's ass. It was almost the same width of the slave's ass cheek. The image of splitting the boy in half only made him harder. Grinning, he lined the dark head of his dick to the already swollen and pink hole. The boy had gone limp, eyes empty. The look turned him on like none other. He felt godlike power surge through his veins as he put his cock to the boy's hole and began to press forward. But it was still so damn tight.

He bounced his hips, trying to get through the small opening. After a few seconds, he managed to work the head through. Tight! So tight, and silky soft and warm. He began to bounce harder, desperate to be sheathed completely in that perfect heat. He leaned over the child's back and applied more force to each short thrust.

As he sweated and worked and cursed, Stephano watched with avid interest as Chris worked the boy's face up and down over his cock in concert with his rocking hips. Watched as that longer, thinner dick stretched the boy's lips and throat again and again. Fuck it was hot! Everything was so good! He lived for this moment.

SNAP! - another sharp scream but weaker this time and ending on a whimpered sob.

Pulling back until it was just the head inside, he shifted his attention to the boy under him as he slammed in, getting his cock half way. He pulled back until just the head was inside the warm body and did it again. He tore through the resistance and slammed all the way home.

The boy jerked, an involuntary spasm in reaction to the sheer agony of being torn deep inside. Stephano grinned and slid out a bit. His grin widened at the smear of blood on his cock. He pushed back in with a hard snap, sighing in bliss as his hips slapped up against the boy's smooth ass. The slave was perfection! Swollen and hot and wet inside, and he was getting wetter every minute as the brat bled. Fuck yeah! Nothing felt as good as this.

Crack! - a yelp and louder sobbing.

Even as he sobbed, pain burning through him like fire, Draco's silver eyes remained locked onto the back of the bastard thrusting into Harry. He felt rage hotter than the whip against his skin, felt it burn up through his gut. It twisted his face into something vicious and primal. The whip kept falling, and Luongo kept talkingtalkingtalking. Draco heard none of it. He was consumed by the vision of Harry's rape. He felt his power build, felt the rage and hate simmer up under his skin, and Draco bared his teeth, feeling the ghostly remembrance of flesh in his mouth, of tearing the skin of his attackers, of killing them.

CRACK! - Draco howled, the agonized sound transmuting into something more dangerous.

HateRageFire burned painfully across his body. Sizzled in the blood that spattered the ceiling, floor and walls. Draco gurgled a laugh through a haze of agony and rage. Blood. His blood. His poison. Faster than lightning he caught an image of Harry's saliva coating Draco's fingers, making them able to heal. And a thought. A fucking hilarious thought. Just as Harry's spit could heal, perhaps Draco's blood could kill. Blood on a whip flying through the air. Blood that could be poisonous!

The blows to his back began to slow and he tore his eyes from Harry long enough to see Luongo stagger, eyes wide, mouth working but with no sound or air making it through the closed throat. The delicate sheen of blood dotted the monster's cheek and chin. Draco's blood. Grinning fiercely, he watched avidly as the big man fell back off the stage and conveniently onto a couch. He barely made a sound as he fell; just a small thump.

Draco's eyes whipped forward to see that the bastards with Harry hadn't noticed. A glance to the side showed the third thug on the couch with his cock out and in hand. He'd been watching Draco's torture and had already expired, unknown to everyone else. He must have rubbed his hand along Draco's back for lube, the sick fucker.

Glancing upward at the cuffs holding him, he tested the give. They were meant for an adult, not a child. Without hesitation, Draco yanked hard until the skin of his wrists tore and his thumbs dislocated with a soft pop. Draco dropped to his feet and into a crouch that set the blaze on his back into an inferno. He pulled on his thumbs, forcing them into place. He made not a sound through the bright flash of pain and, just as silently, he lifted the bloodied whip from the platform next to him.

Unblinking, grinning madly, Draco dropped off the stage and strode over to the bastard fucking Harry faster and harder with every moment that passed. The man's shirt was unbuttoned, falling off his shoulders, caught at the crook of his arms. Draco lifted the whip back and lashed it down as hard as he possibly could on that bared skin, uncaring about the searing pain every movement cost him.

The man's back arched, and Draco, quick as a snake, lashed the whip down again and again until the man was collapsing, falling out of Harry's body and onto the floor to convulse.

The thug who'd been at Harry's mouth was lunging forward, face twisted into an animalistic snarl, dick still hard and wet with Harry's spit. Draco dropped the whip and lunged to meet him. They crashed together. Not expecting the move forward, the bastard was unable to grab him. The impact knocked the air out of Draco's lungs as they went tumbling backward.

His back hit the ground and they slid. Draco growled, nearly blacking out from the pain, but he lashed his head forward and bit down with all his strength on the man's collarbone and shoulder. He jerked his head to the side, tearing a chunk of flesh free. A fist collided with Draco's head, but then the man was falling.

Draco rolled to the side, coughing and howling and laughing, even as dark spots flashed across his vision. Crawling, he dragged himself over to his boy. Harry was still draped over the bench, catatonic as blood flowed steadily from his opened hole. Draco pulled himself to his feet and got a grip around Harry's torso, pulling him off and dragging him over to a red leather loveseat set against a far wall. It was as far from the bastards dying slowly on the floor as Draco could get.

He got Harry lying down on his back and draped himself between the boy's legs and half on Harry's chest. He rested his chin on the boy's sternum, fought down nausea and pulled himself together. * Harry, it's time to come back. I've got you. It's over now. Come on, Harry. Come back to me. *

Harry was swinging from bar to bar, the tickling fun of it making him smile, when he heard it. Draco. Draco was calling him. The park wavered. Another call. This time Harry could hear a hint of pain in Draco's voice. The park shattered and Harry blinked dry eyes to see Draco lying in his lap and on his chest. He looked past silvered eyes and saw the bloodied, torn flesh of Draco's pale back, even saw bone in some places.

Harry gasped and moved to sit up, but a firm hand held him down.

“No, Harry.” Silver eyes captured his own. “That's not how this is gonna go. You first. Then me.”

Harry heard something thumping on the floor and turned to look, but Draco captured his face. There was anger in Draco's expression, and Harry blushed. He tried to get his heartbeat under control. It suddenly hit him that he was away from those bad men hurting him. Realized Draco had saved him and had been seriously hurt doing it – love gratitude adoration.

“Draco. Yours. Love you,” he whispered, tears spilling once more.

Draco's expression softened and a smile peeked out. Harry felt warm to his core and felt himself relax completely – submission. Draco was here. He was safe. That's all that mattered. Draco would heal him and then he could heal his Draco. Just as Draco said.

Silver eyes huge in his vision, a slightly trembling hand touched his mouth. Harry opened without hesitation, and Draco slipped three fingers inside. It was more than Harry was used to, and for a second he was back on his stomach with that man pushing in, can't breathe! , but then the familiar and comforting taste of Draco's skin filled his mouth and erased the other bitter taste lingering there. He let his eyes close on a sigh.

Harry opened himself, felt the layers peel away and the warmth deep inside pool upward, felt it surround Draco's fingers as commanded. He kept his eyes closed as he felt Draco reach down and touch him just outside his hole. And now that he was focused there, he arched with a painful cry. It hurthurthurthurt! Throbbing and pervasive, his whole body was screaming!

* I'm going to heal you, Harry. The pain will go away everywhere I touch. I'm going to make you mine inside and out. Do you want that, Harry? *

- need trust desperation painpainpain - “Yes, Draco,” Harry sobbed. He opened his eyes and held Draco's gaze. “Please. Make me yours,” he begged, soft and desperate, voice choked with pain. “Make it stop.”

Draco kissed the inside of his thigh just above his knee and pressed two fingers forward. Harry arched as hot pain spiked up his spine only to be instantly chased by a cooling sensation that felt oh so good. Instinctively, Harry flung his hands above his hand and grasped the arm of the couch. Draco's fingers circled his walls inside, erasing all the pain just as he promised.

“Draco...” he moaned, closing his eyes again.

“Tell me where it hurts, Harry,” Draco rasped, voice husky, silvered eyes lidded, pupils huge.

“Deeper,” Harry answered, whimpering. He spread his legs, draping one over the back of the couch, letting the other fall off. He tilted his hips up, using the leg hooked on the couch as leverage. “Deep in there.” Sobbing, he met Draco's eyes. “Hurts so much.”

Draco swallowed something hot and knotted as he met the trusting green gaze of his boy. “I'm gonna fix it, Harry.”

Harry blinked slowly, tears still falling. “Cause I'm yours.”

“Mine,” Draco agreed fiercely.

He gently pulled his fingers back enough to slip three in, trying to reach all the spots that hurt. Harry was warm around his fingers, but the swelling and heat lessened with every gentle push in. Draco felt something coil in his gut, felt tears spill over his cheeks in utter gratitude that Harry loved him enough, trusted him enough, to do this.

Almost hypnotized, he watched Harry's body arch gracefully, listened to the boy's moans and soft cries of “deeper” and “Draco” and “yours”. Panting and staring deep into each other's eyes, Draco put four fingers to Harry's hole and pushed slowly forward until his thumb stopped the inward thrust. He pressed his fingers against Harry's walls and gently turned his hand, touching everything he could.

Harry felt as if he were floating. Draco's gentle touch was inside him! Almost as deep as the pain. Draco filled him, owned him. He was Draco's like never before, and it sent his heart soaring. Sent his heart thundering in his chest with joy. He felt on fire, but it didn't hurt. It made him squirm and thrust his hips, trying to get more of Draco. More of everything as something almost painfully good moved through his core. Eyes wide, pupils huge, Harry gave a wild cry.

Draco rode the wave as Harry's pleasure rushed through him, crashed and spilled and swept him away. So close; that electric sensation that came when they touched and healed. He breathed hot, damp breaths against Harry's soft inner thigh as he bent forward, his thin blonde hair falling across his face as he watched his fingers pushed in and out of Harry's body in a smooth glide.

“Draco,” Harry begged. He was glistening with sweat all over and panting so hard he could hardly talk. “Almost, please, yours, Draco, almost gone.”

Draco bent to take his own sore thumb into his mouth, four fingers still stretching Harry open, and slathered it with his own saliva. He pulled his fingers back, aligned them again, and watched with wide eyes as he pressed his whole hand forward. Harry parted for him, loose yet tight, holding Draco snuggly inside his body. Draco gasped and pressed slowly deeper. Harry's pink hole stretched white and then closed pink around Draco's thin wrist.

Harry's face glistened with sweat, his cheeks were flushed red. His neck arched gracefully as his lips parted. Eyes clenched shut, he gave a soft, breathy cry. Draco groaned, almost overwhelmed at the sight. Ears ringing, vision blurring, he turned his hand carefully, puled back a bit, stretching the hole white again and pressed in. More of his wrist disappeared into the warm cocoon of Harry's body, and Harry arched with a scream of pure pleasure.

Draco felt the echo inside him where Harry's emotions poured in, the sharp pleasure throbbing hot and strong between them. Nearly blind, he moved his hand in and out a little more firmly, holding Harry on that crest. He gave a sharp twist of his hand and Harry howled, clawing at the couch arm above him. Draco gave a few more fast thrusts, gasping in mouthfuls of air as the sheer strength of Harry's pleasure almost triggered Draco's own.

With a sigh, Harry finally went limp. The wave of ecstasy slowly ebbed. Draco lay draped over Harry's body, eyes fastened to Harry's face. The green eyes stared unseeing, drool escaping the corners of the boy's mouth. But slowly the thunder of their hearts slowed, and Harry began to blink. The boy's mouth curled into a soft smile and he lowered his arms to stroke Draco's hair and face.

“Doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt, Draco.”

Unable to speak, Draco laid kiss after kiss along Harry's thigh as he gently worked his hand free. Harry was practically a puddle, and he moaned and rocked his hips as inch by inch Draco's hand was pulled and pressed and pulled until Draco's fingers slipped out in a long slide and squelch.

Harry's face dripped sweat, his hair hung wet and heavy, and a sweet smile stretched his lips. Draco kissed that smile. Kissed every inch of his boy's face, drinking the salty moisture from Harry's soft skin.

* I love you, * he confessed, almost burning with it. * Anything for you. *

“Love you,” Harry whispered, nearly asleep – love submission adoration. He lifted his arms and let them fall around Draco's shoulders. “Love you, Draco.”

Draco winced as Harry touched a lash mark.

Harry's sleepy euphoria faded under a rush of adrenaline and he sat up. He pet Draco's damp hair, this time in entreaty. “Please, Draco? Please?”

Draco gave a sharp nod.

On wobbly legs, Harry got to his feet. He felt wet and open down there, but his attention fastened on Draco's back and everything else faded away. There was blood. It was everywhere. It coated Draco's legs, the couch, and even the floor had a thick trail. Draco was hurt bad!

Harry ghosted his hands feather-light over Draco's shredded back. Body still hot and tingling and open, he knew he wouldn't be able to stand for long, so he climbed on the couch with his Draco and settled between the blonde's legs. Hands on either side of Draco's slim hips, Harry bent forward and began to lap up Draco's blood – lovelovelovelovelove - like a kitten lapping up milk.

Tears burning down his cheeks, Draco pillowed his head into his crossed arms, covering his face with the hand that had been inside his boy's wounded body. His back arched into Harry's gentle, healing licks, and he let the pleasure build. The feel of Harry hovering over his body, of Harry's skin sliding against his thighs and ass every time the boy leaned forward to lick along his shoulders, the heat of Harry, the trust and love searing though him; Draco let it pull him under.

In a minute, he'd get up. Get them going. Keep them safe. But for now, he gave himself over to Harry's sweet care. Just one more moment of peace. Because they were on their own now. Hot tears continued to soak the cushions even as he gave a long low cry, pleasure spiking through him like lightning. Only one more minute because they were no longer safe. They no longer had a home.

Brendon was gone.

Chapter end.

A/N: This chapter really pushed at my comfort zone. I'd love to have feedback on it.
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Freedom Bound in Chains