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
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Fight to the Death
Leaping through the flames, Harry found himself in a wide, dark stairwell that led down. The light from the fire barely penetrated the dark gloom. Without hesitation, Harry ran down the steps and into the darkness. He stepped out onto a short landing, ran the few steps forward, and went down more stairs.
He could tell he was dungeon level now. The walls were cold, the air moist. Another landing and he could hear the sounds of a vicious duel. Words of power were yelled out, bitten off. Magic pulsed and lashed, making all the hair on Harry’s arms and the back of his neck stand on end. His mad rush downwards slowed, became more careful. A fourth landing. He looked down the last set of stairs and saw an open room with dark stone walls and dark stone floor.
It was round with columns set into the walls. A few torches created flickering light enough to see by. A mirror - the mirror - stood in the center. Open arches along the walls led to areas Harry couldn’t see, the darkness beyond them too thick to see through.
Spell-light flashed and Remus came tumbling though one of the archways into the light. He had blood drenching half of his face from a cut on his hairline. His sleeves were burnt away, revealing red, blistering flesh. He rolled fluidly to his feet, poised for battle, his wand steady and aimed with pinpoint accuracy. Remus’s eyes had gone completely gold and a snarl twisted his features.
A dark sinister laugh echoed from the darkness as Quirrell strode forward, his stride long and fluid and fast. It almost seemed like he was flying across the floor. His movements practically screamed his eagerness for battle. “It’s been so long!” the man exclaimed joyfully and high-pitched. “I haven’t seen the light die in someone’s eyes in so long, their despair and terror thick enough to drink! I’m going to enjoy killing you slowly!”
Quirrell’s hood had fallen back revealing a completely bald head. His eyes were like empty pits in his face, wide and manic. His mouth was stretched wide in a monstrous smile. The man’s right hand looked to be rotting, withered black and grey-blue like that of a corpse. The whole arm hung limp at his side. Black and red lines of infection and corruption spider-webbed across his neck and that half of his face.
Harry bit his lip, fighting a gasp of horror as he saw the skin at the back of Quirrell’s head writhe as if fat worms were fighting to break out. For a split second, Harry saw a face press up from the back of the man’s skull just underneath the skin and a sharp bolt of molten agony shot through the scar on his forehead.
Remus didn’t bother answering the madman. He was utterly focused on shielding and attacking. He managed to deflect Quirrell’s spell and it flew to the side near where Harry stood invisible. Dust fell from the ceiling as the force of the magic impacted the wall. Harry staggered, biting his lips to hold back a surprised yell.
Low to the ground, Remus ran to the right, shooting spell after spell even as he moved. Quirrell laughed, high-pitched and insane. He deflected the magic with ease and chased after the werewolf.
Harry was breathing hard. He’d crouched without even realizing it, trying to make himself a smaller target. He had to hurry! The Stone was all that mattered! Where was it? Harry’s eyes darted around frantically, but there was nothing to see but dark archways and the mirror. Was it hidden somewhere beyond this room?
The sound of a scream cut through the air. Harry trembled, terrified, but his eyes kept moving toward the mirror. What was it doing here? Why was it displayed in the center? Harry winced as a cracking sound and a howl erupted from the darkness. Remus ran back into the light. His left arm hung useless, flapping as he ran. It bent and moved in an unnatural way that made Harry’s stomach churn.
A pulse of magic erupted from where Remus had come from and Remus was flung with great force several feet backward into a wall. He bounced off the hard stone and collapsed on his stomach, bloody and winded.
Quirrell swooped out of the darkness practically on top of the other man. “I’ll tear it out of you! All that gorgeous blood! Scream for me, worm! Scream!”
Remus arched as the man twirled his wand in sickening loops faster and faster over Remus’s body. A scream of pure torment was wrenched from his throat. Harry crouched even lower, biting back whimpers. Remus lay unmoving, collapsed on the floor, his chest heaving.
“Enough!” a sibilant, hissing voice cut through the screams, making Harry shudder. “The Ssstone. Find the Ssstone!”
Quirrell didn’t have the Stone! Harry’s heart beat a mile a minute, eyes wide behind his glasses. He half-crawled deeper into the room. He was on his feet, but he was crouched low to the ground, half his weight on his hands. He moved forward in perfect silence. He breathed carefully through his mouth, so his shallow breathing couldn’t be heard.
“The room is empty, Master! The Stone’s not here!” Quirrell simpered.
“Look again!” the voice hissed, threat practically dripping off every syllable.
As Quirrell took off to search beyond the archways, Harry crawled forward toward the mirror. It had to be there for a reason! Heart practically punching a hole in his chest, Harry’s eyes widened as he saw his reflection even though he wore the invisibility cloak.
Mirror-Harry was on his knees, his body turned sideways so that Draco stood between his thighs. This time the blond was clutching a dark green leash that was attached to Harry’s black, leather collar. Mirror-Draco was smirking wider than ever as he stroked mirror-Harry’s hair with casual possessiveness.
The blond wore tight black jeans, his feet and torso were bare, revealing milky white skin covered in scars. From thin white lines to raised pink tissue, mirror-Draco’s body looked identical to the real one. His blond hair hung loose around his face, falling just past his sharp jawline, and his eyes… His eyes shone silver.
Harry stared at him with a longing so powerful that he nearly couldn’t breathe around it. Mirror-Harry’s eyes reflected that same longing as he stared up at the blond from his knees. Mirror-Harry had on a black corset over a dark-green, long-sleeved lace shirt with a wide, round neck. It left his collarbones exposed and nearly fell off his shoulders. He wore the short black shorts that Draco favored and silk, thigh-high stockings with black, high-heeled ankle boots.
Those uncovered green eyes dropped to stare dead into Harry’s eyes. Mirror-Harry smirked, all teeth and threat. Harry shivered in desire as mirror-Draco tugged sharply on the leash. Mirror-Harry stood immediately, all fluid grace. The high-heels put him on level with Draco’s height, but there was no mistaking who had all the power.
Mirror-Draco looked into Harry’s eyes, ignoring mirror-Harry who stared at mirror-Draco with perfect submission, ready for whatever would be asked of him. Mirror-Draco lifted a thin eyebrow and pulled a red stone from his pocket. Harry’s mouth went dry. Mirror-Draco’s smirk softened into the smile that was reserved just for Harry. It made Harry’s cheeks heat and his head dizzy.
Mirror-Draco fisted mirror-Harry’s hair, yanking it brutally back so his face pointed toward the ceiling. Mirror-Draco pressed the red crystal to mirror-Harry’s lips, which obediently opened. Harry’s eyes widened in shock as he felt his jaw part as the weight of the stone appeared on his tongue.
Draco! he thought near desperately, filled with - need want lust.
A shadow fell over him, his scar pulsed hotly, and terror hit Harry’s senses like a bucket of ice water. Abruptly he remembered where he was, crouched in front of a magical mirror in a dark, dungeon chamber with an insane Quirrell and hurt, possibly dying, Remus. Harry could hardly breathe around the Stone in his mouth, his every breath coming fast and thin through his nose.
Dread sitting heavy in his gut, Harry slowly turned his head and looked up. Quirrell was standing a few inches from him, staring over his head from where Harry still crouched invisibly. He was looking into the mirror.
“I see myself holding the Stone…” he hissed in frustration, anger lacing his voice. “But how do I get it?”
Pale, all the blood having rushed from his face in fear, Harry slowly lifted a trembling hand. He took the Stone from his mouth and carefully shoved it into his jean pocket. It was a good thing he did because Quirrell’s wand snapped up as if it had a mind of its own and magic blasted into him, ripping the cloak from his body.
Quirrell’s expression of frustration morphed into surprise and then joy. “Potter!” he practically giggled. “I was wondering if I’d run into you.”
Dizzy, black spots dancing in his eyes, breathing too fast to be healthy, Harry slowly stood. He barely came up to the madman’s chest, but he tilted his head back and looked defiantly into the wizard’s eyes. His scar was on fire now, making tears form in his eyes, but he did his best to ignore it. He had a death grip on his wand.
“Nothing to say?” Quirrell asked almost sweetly.
“Ussse the boy!” the hissing voice ordered.
Quirrell’s expression turned furious in an instant. “Look into the mirror, Potter! Now!” he screamed, his wand less than an inch from Harry’s face.
Harry could feel the malevolent magic waiting to lash out at him and he shakily turned to face the mirror. He saw mirror-Harry leaning against mirror-Draco’s side, but Mirror-Draco was watching the real Harry, a look of concern on his face. Having Draco’s eyes on him, even if it was in a mirror, made him breathe a little easier.
“Tell me. What do you see?” Quirrell asked softly from behind him.
“I-I see… I’m w-winning the House Cup. I-I’m being made P-Prefect…” Harry stuttered fearfully, Ron’s vision the first thing that came to mind. He had to get the Stone out of here! He had to use the serum to destroy it!
“He liesss!”
Harry’s scar hurt so badly that he couldn’t stop tears from streaking his cheeks.
“TELL THE TRUTH! What do you see?”
“Let me ssspeak to him.”
Quirrell sounded terrified. “Master, you’re not strong enough!”
“I have strength enough for thisss.”
Harry turned around, legs shaking. Quirrell stared at him in utter hatred before he too turned around. Harry felt his stomach roll as he came face to face with the back of Quirrell’s bare skull. Once more the skin rippled there and a face pressed up from underneath the man’s skin. It stretched for a second before settling into the features of a monstrous man.
“Harry Potter… We meet again…” the grotesque face hissed, chilling Harry to the core.
“Voldemort,” Harry gasped, near breathless with pain and terror.
“Yesss… You sssee what I’ve become… Sssee what I must do to sssurvive… become a parasssite… living off unicorn blood to sssussstain my hossst… But it cannot give me a body of my own… But there isss sssomething that can… Sssomething that, conveniently enough, liesss in your pocket!”
Harry tore his eyes from the face in Quirrell’s head and bolted in sheer panic back toward the stairs.
“Ssstop him!”
Harry looked over his shoulder to see Quirrell had spun around. Eyes wild, the man screamed a spell that Harry didn’t quite catch and burning hot fire erupted in front of him, filling the stairway. Harry darted to the side and hid behind one of the archways.
“Don’t be a fool, Harry,” Voldemort hissed, sounding calm now that the only way out was blocked by deadly flames. “Why suffer a horrific death when you can join me and live?”
Harry looked around frantically, but there was nowhere to run. It was a dead end! The space beyond the archways was empty, just a few more feet of room before ending in a wall.
Voldemort hissed a cruel laugh. “We do not have to be enemiesss, Harry. Would you like to sssee your mother and father again? Come to me and together we can bring them back. All I asssk… isss for sssomething in return.”
Harry swung his backpack off and pulled the Stone from his pocket. It wasn’t really safe to use the serum like this. He had no protective gear on, no way to protect his lungs if he were to accidentally breathe it in, but he had to do it! He couldn’t let Voldemort get the Stone!
Voldemort’s voice drew closer and closer. “There isss no good and evil, Harry. There isss only power and those too weak to ssseek it! Together… we will do extraordinary things. Just give me the Ssstone!”
Harry had the vial of Vivificantis serum in one hand and the Stone in the other when Quirrell suddenly flew around the archway and cast a spell that sent Harry flying and tumbling back into the center of the room.
Harry came up hard against the mirror. The room spun, his shoulders and head ached from his tumble, and the gash from Fluffy throbbed hotly down his leg, but he still had a death grip on the vial and the Stone. HIs glasses had gotten knocked off his face in the fall. He squinted, trying to get Quirrell into his field of vision.
“Get the Stone!” Voldemort screamed, growing excited upon actually seeing the ruby-like gem in Harry’s hand. “Kill him!”
Quirrell came swooping down on him! Harry screamed and rolled to the side, but before the madman reached him, Remus staggered to his feet and cast a powerful blasting curse.
“Harry! RUN!” Remus bellowed, blasting Quirrell again and again.
Harry had seconds, a minute at most, before Voldemort would be on him again. He scrambled to his feet, slipping slightly as he tried to get traction on the stone floor, and bolted toward the fire blocking the stairway. It didn’t matter if he’d get burned. All that mattered was that monster didn’t get the Stone. Harry had to stop him. To protect Draco!
The fire was hot. Even from feet away it made his skin tight. It roared, cackling hungrily. Harry, heart pumping painfully hard, braced himself for the shock of pain, but just before the fire licked at his skin, it suddenly sputtered and went out as a blast of cold air hit Harry in the face. Frost and ice coated the floor, crawled up the sides of the wall, and fanned out along the ceiling. Harry stood in utter shock and would have dropped to his knees, but Draco grabbed his arm and roughly pulled him forward.
The blond jogged back up the stairs onto the first landing, so they were mostly out of sight of Quirrell and Remus. He yanked Harry’s body flush against his and fisted the boy’s hair. He’d seen the Stone, of course, in the boy’s hand and an unfamiliar vial.
Staring down in Harry’s eyes, their mouths close enough to kiss, Draco’s voice filled Harry’s mind like glorious thunder. Harry. Can you destroy the Stone?
Harry tired to nod, but the grip Draco had on his hair was painfully, wonderfully tight.
Draco’s understood his answer, though. His mouth parted in a sharp, predatory grin. Do it. Be careful. Go!
Harry bolted forward and ran up the stairs. He burst into the logic puzzle room and kept running. He ran past the chess board, eyes wide as he took in the fact that it had been demolished, frozen and shattered. Ran into the room with the troll. Here, he stopped, panting hard, and gasped for oxygen. His mind spun with shock - Draco was awake! Draco was here!
He didn’t know what made him think of the troll. Harry’s mind had raced to think of a way to protect himself from the Vivificantis serum. He’d frantically tried to come up with something that could surround the Stone, something he could pour the serum inside. For some reason, he had remembered the dead troll, remembered the severed head.
Harry shivered, repulsed, but he pried the mouth of the troll open. It’s skin was thick, more like leather than skin, but waxy and smooth, almost slimy, not rough like leather. Harry expected it to be difficult, the jaw stiff, but it opened easily. The tongue sat heavy, an ugly grey-purple. Harry literally gagged as his fingers touched it, but the Stone easily fit inside the cavern.
Very, very carefully, Harry opened the vial of acidic serum. He held his breath and kept his hand perfectly steady so nothing would splash on him. Even one drop would do horrific damage to his skin and body. One sniff of the fumes could destroy his lungs. Harry braced himself and, in one smooth motion, he turned the vial upside down and dropped it into the troll’s mouth while his other hand simultaneously shut the jaw, sealing the Stone and the dangerous serum inside.
Harry didn’t understand the science of it completely, of course, but Remus had explained that once the Vivificantis serum was exposed to air, it would destroy everything it came in contact with for about thirty minutes before fizzling out. Something about it exhausting itself. Still, in that time, it should easily destroy the Stone. It would also dissolve the skull and maybe even corrode a hole in the floor. While doing that, it would create poisonous fumes, but not before Harry was long gone in another room.
He’d done it! The Stone was safe! He’d completed the mission! Harry’s knees nearly gave out, but there was still more to do. Draco was here! He was fighting Voldemort! Straightening, Harry ran back the way he’d come. He had to help Draco!
xXx
Draco stood barefoot in hospital pants and a t-shirt. His body language screamed danger, his eyes completely silver, as he entered the fray. The grip of frost slowly left his body as he entered the arena. The god had let him borrow the power of Winter long enough for him to reach the enemy. Now that Draco was here, face to face with Quirrell, he was on his own. He had to prove his worth in combat.
Rage and hate made his vision crystal clear. In an instant, he took in the round room lit by a ring of torches, the archways and shadows beyond, the long mirror in a gilded frame. He saw in perfect detail Remus, bloody and battered, standing on unsteady legs, backing into a corner as he desperately fired off curses. Saw Quirrell in a heavy cloak, mouth distorted in a furious scream. The madman flew at Remus and the wizard went down with a scream, both of his legs snapping brutally at the thigh. Quirrell raised his wand with murder in his eyes…
“Couldn’t heal your hand, could you?” Draco asked sweetly, as he stalked forward and distracted the man. “You went for the Stone sooner than you wanted. Got sloppy. Because no matter what you tried, you couldn’t stop my poison.”
Quirrell spun around to face him, leaving Remus clinging to life behind him. “You…” His eyes narrowed into slits. “What are you doing here?”
“He hasss sssomething for usss… Isss it the Ssstone?” Quirrell turned his back to Draco while the strange, hissing voice spoke, and Draco watched through hate-filled eyes as Voldemort’s shade pressed up from the back of Quirrell’s bald head. “Give it to usss, boy, and we will not kill you for doing thisss to usss.”
Draco bared his teeth. “Voldemort. Good. I have a fucking message for you before I give you the Stone.” He took small steps closer, never looking away from the disfigured eyes of the specter possessing Quirrell. “I’m going to destroy you, bitch.”
Draco leapt forward and jumped the distance between them in a flash.
Quirrell tried to swing his arm back to point his wand backward while simultaneously trying to turn. He was clumsy and awkward. Both things he couldn’t afford to be.
With a hungry howl of a rabid animal, Draco was on him! He had a small, sharp skinning knife he’d stolen from the kitchen, and with absolutely no hesitation, Draco stabbed the short blade into Qurrill’s neck.
Shocked, the man staggered and went to his knees. Blood sprayed out with shocking force and drenched Draco in seconds. Quirrell’s vile magic lashed out in a defensive push, but Draco’s magic met it, burning around the small boy with so much fury that Quirrell’s magic could do nothing more than heat Draco’s hands and push at him lightly.
Draco pushed back and pulled the knife across the bastard’s throat, opening up a bigger gash that sprayed more blood. Quirrell was flat on the ground now, the blood beginning to spurt softer, the man nearly unconscious.
Draco crouched over his enemy’s chest and forced the man’s head brutally around so he could put his face inches from Voldemort’s. He stared right into the monster’s eyes. “I hope you fucking remember this, Voldemort. Because this is how it’s always going to fucking end between you and me,” he whispered with cold hatred.
Suddenly, a black shadow began to peel itself from Quirrell’s corpse. Draco pulled back enough that he was standing beside the corpse, poised to protect himself, eyes the silver of a predator, as the shadow stretched and grew. He watched as it took on the features of a deformed face, mouth stretched wide in a furious scream and eyes glowing an ember red.
The shadow dove for Draco.
Draco braced himself for the impact, teeth gritted so hard that his jaw ached, but Harry was suddenly there, flinging himself between Voldemort’s shade and Draco’s body, arms out flung as he bellowed a defiant, “NO!”
Draco instinctively wrapped his arms around Harry’s chest from behind, trying to protect him. His magic spiked with anxiety - His boy! His boy was in danger! - and collided with Harry’s magic that had flared with protective fury - Draco! Got to protect, Draco! - The two magics - two halves of one whole - clicked and merged in a split second and became one great force!
Voldemort’s shadow exploded on contact as if he’d run head first into a solid wall. Harry screamed in agony, his scar erupting in pain and spilling fresh blood down his face. Harry’s eyes rolled back in his head and he went limp. Draco caught him and held Harry to his chest, sinking gracefully to the floor under Harry’s weight. Voldemort’s shadow awkwardly gathered itself, but it didn’t come back for another attack. It fled up the stairs, disappearing in an instant.
Draco felt his heartbeat slow in his chest and he curled around Harry, who was sprawled across his lap. Remus crawled over. His face was bone white from the pain, but he dragged his broken legs behind him until he was close enough to wrap his arms around Draco and Harry both. Before any of them could say anything, a shadow pulled away from the darkness beyond the archways.
The God of Winter stepped into the light of the torches, grinning ear to ear. White hair a tangled mess falling to the floor behind it. Round eyes filled with the blackness of space, saw only Draco as it stepped closer.
“Victor. You have Proven your strength,” it spoke, voice penetrating every space in the room and resonated down to their bones.
The god stepped close enough that it could touch Draco and it pressed the tip of its thick nail to the base of Draco’s throat. The blue celtic knot left by the fairies appeared. The mark of Winter, a pale white, appeared and surrounded it.
“Wear My mark Proudly, Child of Mine.”
“Thank you,” Draco answered calmly. He stared up at the god with no fear.
Remus’s thought he’d have a heart attack and ducked his head to bury his face in Draco’s hair, inhaling the boy’s scent underneath the scent of blood and ice that saturated the air of the chamber. The god must have left while he was having a panic attack because when he looked up again the god was gone and so were the marks on Draco’s throat.
“I should get help,” Draco spoke when he felt Remus’s breathing even out, the man no longer clutching him desperately.
“Voldemort’s gone,” Remus croaked, voice tight and hoarse. “The spell holding the staff should break. They will come.” He paused and looked over Draco’s shoulder. Harry was still unconscious in Draco’s lap. “How is he?”
Harry’s emotions were muted, but Draco could sense the - pain love - easily. “I think he’s okay. Exhausted. Voldemort has a weird effect on his scar. It probably overwhelmed him from this close.”
Remus accepted that and fell silent. He was feeling a bit overwhelmed himself. He couldn’t get the vision of Draco brutally murdering Quirrell out of his head. Draco had done it with such ease. On one hand, Voldemort and Quirrell were dangerous enemies that had to be removed. The werewolf in him was thrilled by his Alpha’s power and wanted to howl and feast on the flesh his Alpha had provided for him. On the other hand, Draco was still a child. It had been sickening to see the eleven-year-old covered in blood, grinning as he bore the man down to slash the hole in his neck wider.
His mind shied away from the encounter with the god. Remus was still drenched in sweat and trembling, completely shocked by being so close to such a powerful presence. In fact, he tried not to think of anything at all. Instead he focused on the bright, hot pain in his legs, and just held the two boys close, glad that it was over for now and they had made it out alive.
Chapter end.
A/N: I hope the fight scene was everything you guys hoped it would be! It’s my birthday, so this is an extra special update. Show me love by leaving detailed feedback! Thank you guys for sticking with me and with this story. Can’t wait to hear from you!
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Freedom Bound in Chains