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
- 94
- 95
- 96
Unmasking the Guilty
Draco hardly noticed the empty hallways and corridors. His thoughts continued to circle around the conversation with Remus. Every few minutes or so, he would shake his head lightly, as if to get rid of an annoying sound.
Jess and Drey had called him an alpha, but they’d just meant that he had the charisma and mental strength to dominate doms. Most doms had at least some percentage submissive in them. It ranged from ten to thirty percent. Any more than thirty percent and they’d technically be considered a switch, who vacillated between a dominant and submissive role depending on their partner or even their mood. Draco didn’t have a submissive bone in his body, which was rare but not impossible. Brendon had been an alpha.
Remus was talking about something completely different. He was talking about a wolf pack Alpha. Something animalistic and not based on the human psyche, although there might be some similarities as humans were a predatory pack animal much like wolves were. Still, if Remus decided to pursue this bond, Draco would have to do research to make sure he was able to give Remus what he needed.
Draco shook his head again, bemused. He’d sensed something was different with Remus after the fairies, but he’d chalked it up to the new understanding between them. Then they’d gone through torture with the Scourers. Remus had pulled away after that but had come out of his shell as he’d worked with Laila.
Draco and Harry had had contact with Remus over the years, but it was primarily casual dinners, special events, and day visits. They had spent half of their time with the Malfoys, and Lucius and Narcissa had not approved of Remus. That meant they could only see Remus while they were at Andromeda’s and only if it wasn’t the week of the full moon.
There had been moments when Draco had felt there was something weird going on with Remus, his reactions sometimes pinged on Draco’s radar, but he hadn’t known enough to question it. Remus’s body language in the infirmary just now was on a whole other level.
Draco wasn’t sure if it was due to being vulnerable because of the injury or the fact that Remus was strengthening his bond with the wolf side of himself, but he was definitely in the grip of submissive instincts where Draco was concerned. And if that wasn’t by Remus’s free choice but forced upon him, then Draco refused to be a part of it. Remus would have to make some hard choices and really commit or Draco would refuse to see him ever again.
At this moment, Draco wasn’t even sure which way he preferred it. Harry would miss Remus of course, but he had always kept them at arm’s length, emotionally speaking, so it wouldn’t be a devastating loss. Not like Liam… Draco actually had to stop as he suddenly thought of his adopted brother. He put his back to the stone wall and just closed his eyes for a minute. Damn, how long was it going to hurt like this?
Liam had saved their lives after Draco and Harry had escaped slavery and they’d become a true family. He had given them their first birthday parties, their first Halloween, first theme park, first school, first doctor visit… Hell, Draco, Harry, and Liam had even chosen their apartment together, decorated together - ate, lived, slept together. Liam had opened so many doors for them and had helped them forge a normal life not in the shadows. They'd looked out for each other and loved each other so much that it damn near broke them to leave Liam behind when the Wizarding world had found them.
America, where they’d lived with Liam, had an extremely strict policy on non-magicals raising magical kids. And England would have refused Liam custody of the famous Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived. Not to mention, Draco and Harry had been seven years old and knew shit about magic. They couldn’t protect Liam. It’d been too dangerous. Better to say goodbye then to see Liam dead.
Draco shoved the memories away and realized he was only one hallway away from the portrait guarding the Gryffindor common room. Giving himself a mental shake, he pushed off the wall.
He’d expected the common room to be empty; it was too early for the Weasleys to be up. However, he found Ron burrowed under blankets on the couch by the fire and Percy sleeping slouched in a very uncomfortable position in an armchair close by.
Draco frowned. Percy had faint shadows under his eyes. He looked exhausted. His curly hair was a mess. He was wearing the clothes he’d worn the day before, no pajamas. A book had fallen to the floor, the pages bent and crinkled. It was all so unlike the super neat and groomed Prefect.
Tip-toeing over to Ron, Draco pulled away the pillow that rested on top of the boy’s head and his expression turned grim. Ron made Percy look merely slightly ruffled. He crouched down and put a protective hand on Ron’s head.
Black circles underlined the boy’s eyes. He was pale, his forehead creased even now in restless sleep. He was also fully dressed. His long legs were pulled halfway to his chest awkwardly, the couch not nearly wide enough for the defensive curl that Ron was apparently trying for. Worse, there was an air of injury around him, even while he was asleep.
“What time is it?”
Draco looked over his shoulder, not moving from his position, to see Percy rubbing his eyes tiredly. “Not sure.”
Percy cast a time spell and revealed it was just past seven thirty in the morning. “He’s been asleep for maybe three hours. I tried to stay up in the dorm with him, but he kept bolting awake, terrified. At least he gets a couple hours down here.” Sudden tears blurred his vision, his voice growing fragile. “Do you think… it’s happening to him?”
Draco stood and went to Percy’s side. He sat on the arm of the armchair and wrapped Percy in a firm hug. “I don’t know, but I swear I’ll find out. Whatever it is, I’ll handle it.”
There was such conviction in Draco’s voice that Percy couldn’t help believing him. He leaned into the blond, trying to absorb his strength.
Percy was just beginning to feel calm when Ron’s breathing picked up and a low groan of pain escaped him. Draco squeezed Percy one last time and returned to Ron’s side, crouching down again. He hesitated to reach out, afraid to trigger panic, so he let his hands rest limply between his thighs, his forearms braced on his legs.
“Hey. It’s okay. Wake up for me, Ron. It’s just a dream,” he called soothingly.
Ron’s body jerked; his eyes flew open. He sat up so quickly that Draco was glad he hadn’t been leaning over the kid. Otherwise he’d have a serious bruise right now. The redhead looked around, terror in his eyes, but that quickly faded to irritation. Ron scrubbed his hands roughly over his face and through his hair. Then he realized who was crouched down at his knees.
“Draco!” Ron leapt to his feet with adrenaline-fueled energy. He wore a maroon sweater with an R on it and jeans. His feet were covered in fuzzy orange socks. “Are you okay? What the bloody hell happened to you two? Is Harry here? Remus spelled me, that bastard! Can you believe it?”
Draco stood and gripped Ron’s upper arm, tugging him back down to sit on the couch. Ron looked so pale that Draco was afraid he’d pass out. “It’s a long story and I’ll tell it on one condition.”
Ron scowled at him. “What the hell? A condition?”
Draco ignored the flash of temper. Ron was clearly nearing a breakdown. It was to be expected his emotions would be all over the place. “I want you to answer some difficult questions as honestly as you can, okay? I promise it’s really important or I wouldn’t ask. Is it a deal?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Ron demanded, crossing his arms. “Why the secrecy? Don't you trust me?”
“I don’t make deals with someone I don’t trust,” Draco reassured him. He tucked his hair behind his ear and met Ron’s eyes directly. “It’s a secret because Dumbledore lied to the Aurors to protect Harry and me and, for whatever reason, it looks like the Ministry is keeping what happened under wraps. In exchange for the real story, you just have to answer a few questions. Deal?”
Ron rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Sure. Now what happened?”
Ron and Percy sat on the edge of their seat as Draco relayed what Harry had told him from the time the charmed necklace had heated up to when Dumbledore and the other teachers had arrived after the battle. Draco was a good story teller. He knew how to keep his audience listening. He also knew what to downplay and what to emphasize in order to get the result he wanted. By the end, Percy and Ron were in awe of the battle they’d survived and weren’t upset by Draco taking out Quirrell.
“I can’t believe I was out for all of this!” Ron muttered petulantly, flopping back against the couch.
“I’m so glad Harry’s okay,” Percy added, genuinely relieved. He’d been terrified out his mind when he’d realized Harry was gone and that fire blocked his way forward. He’d waited around for a while, but then he’d fled and tried to get help from the teachers.
“Harry’s fine,” Draco promised, giving Percy a soft smile. “He’s with Andromeda. They’re writing a statement about what happened in case we ever want to go public with the truth.” He turned suddenly sharp eyes to Ron. “Okay. Your turn. Would you like to do this here or somewhere else? The questions are going to be kind of personal.”
Ron scowled over his still crossed arms and didn’t saying anything.
Percy stood, casting Draco a pleading look. “I’ll go check on the twins and make sure they don’t disturb you.”
“Oh, great.” Ron flung his arms up and out dramatically. “Percy set you up to this, didn’t he? Why won’t he mind his own business?” He got angrily to his feet, but Draco caught his wrist before he could storm off.
Ron stood still. Draco’s grip was tight. Even pissed off, Ron knew not to test that grip, so he stood, silently fuming, with Draco still siting on the couch.
Draco waited for the Percy to disappear up the stairs before turning his attention to Ron once more. “Okay. It’s just us,” he said calmly. Draco let Ron go and stood up to take his jacket off. He flung it carelessly over one of the armchairs and turned back to Ron in just a long-sleeved t-shirt. It was freezing outside, but between the climate spells on the tower and the lit fireplace not five feet from them, Draco was warm enough.
“What did Percy tell you?” Ron asked darkly, eyes full of suspicion.
“He hasn’t told me much of anything actually,” Draco answered with an easy shrug. He sat on the couch again and patted the cushion next to him. “It was Harry actually. He told me about your panic attack and how you weren’t able to sleep at night afterward.” He looked into Ron’s eyes with sincerity. “Thank you. Harry told me how great you were. That you helped him so much while I was in the infirmary. He’s so worried about you. It would make him feel so much better if you let me help you.”
Ron’s temper deflated and his arms fell limp. Harry was his best friend. He’d do anything for Harry, so how could he say no to that? He blew out a loud breath and sat heavily on the couch next to the blond. “What do you want to know exactly?”
Draco turned so he was facing the redhead, his leg bent in front of him on the couch. “I want you to think back to that first panic attack,” he said in a soothing voice, eyes staring unblinking at Ron, taking in every clue the boy’s body language gave.
“It wasn’t a big deal,” Ron immediately denied, his arms coming back up across his chest. “I’m just not sleeping well. I’m fine.”
Draco tilted his head. He thought he knew what Ron was most struggling with. “You’re handling it great,” he agreed. “I’m just worried that someone put a spell on you. Like what happened to me. If that’s the case, anyone would be having trouble, not just you. In fact, you’re holding it together better than I did, right? At least you’re not bashing your own head in or anything.”
Ron’s eyes went wide and he leaned forward, the defensive posture falling away instantly. “You really think that? Someone could have cursed me?” The idea made him feel so much lighter. That meant he wasn’t being weak or a baby! A curse was making him feel like this!
Draco nodded. “That’s what I want to find out.”
“Okay.” Ron sat back and ran both hands through his limp, oily hair. “Okay,” he said again. He looked at Draco with his very blue eyes. He, Charlie, and Timmy were the only three who got blue eyes. “What do you want me to do?”
“This is going to be hard, but I know you can do it,” Draco encouraged, giving him some praise. It never hurt when dealing with Ron. “I want you to lean back and get comfortable. Then think back to that first panic attack. I want you to tell me what you remember, what you felt. No matter how small or little. Anything you can remember will help us figure this out. Okay?”
Ron nodded. “Yeah.” He already looked shaky, but he wasn’t a Gryffindor for nothing. He leaned back and rested his head against the back of the couch. He took a few deep breaths and unconsciously checked on Draco to make sure he was close.
Draco scooted forward enough that his knee gently pressed against Ron’s thigh, giving him an anchor to focus on if he needed it. He smiled as that let Ron feel safe enough to close his eyes. “Good. You’re doing really good,” he said easily, not soft or loud, using a normal talking voice to cause Ron as little distraction as possible. “So you were sleeping. What do you become aware of first?”
Ron was silent for a long minute. When he spoke, his voice was soft, distant. He’d slipped easily back into the memory. It had been haunting him for days. He also hadn’t gotten any sleep for the last week, so it was easy to fall into a trance-like state.
“Drowning. I felt like I was drowning.”
“Good,” Draco encouraged. “What next?”
“The giant squid… It had a tentacle wrapped around my throat…” Ron’s breathing picked up, his hands fisted next to him. Sweat glistened on his forehead. “I… I tried to fight it off… It wouldn’t let me go… I couldn’t breathe!”
“You’re not there, Ron. You’re just remembering what it felt like. Take a deep breath. Breathe with me. In… Then out… Good. That’s good.” Draco was holding Ron’s wrist tightly. To offer comfort, but also to keep an eye on his pulse. Ron’s heart was beating worryingly fast. “Where are the tentacles, Ron? Are they anywhere else besides your throat?”
Tears glistened on Ron’s eye lashes. “They were wrapped around my torso, too… I think they… were on my face… holding my mouth open. I- I think it k-killed me… The lake was so dark and cold…”
Ron’s eyes snapped open and he curled over his lap, visibly shaking. He tried to get a grip. Tried to swallow the tears flooding down his cheeks, but he just ended up making these whimpering choked sounds. Like some kind of wounded animal. He hated it! He hated being weak! Enraged, he was suddenly on his feet.
“Just leave me the bloody hell alone!” Ron screamed, wild-eyed and crying. “I’m fine!”
Draco knew Ron needed a fight, so he gave him one. He leapt to his feet and got in his face. He had to stand on tip-toe to do it, Ron was a few inches taller than him, but it didn’t matter. “You’re just scared! Scared of what it will take to make this go away. Scared that it never will.”
Ron shoved Draco hard in the chest. “I’m not scared!”
Draco staggered, but then he was right back in Ron’s face. He put his finger against the other boy’s chest, glaring in challenge. “Oh, yeah? Prove it.”
“What the hell do you want from me?” Ron bellowed back.
Draco crossed his arms, a cocky smirk on his face. “There’s a way I can test if you were cursed, but it’s going to hurt a little. Think you can handle it?” he goaded him.
Ron glared hotly. If looks could kill, Draco would be dead. “Fine! Do whatever!”
Draco stared Ron dead in the eyes. The other boy was breathing hard, tears still glistened on his lashes and stained his flushed cheeks, but he didn’t flinch when Draco grabbed his hand. His eyes went wide, however, when Draco took one of Ron’s fingers in his mouth. Ron didn’t have time to jerk away. Draco was already biting down, ice throbbing through his core. He ordered it to cut not poison and Ron’s skin parted like paper. Hot blood splashed across Draco’s tongue.
Ron stood frozen, heart thundering in his throat, as he watched Draco’s pupils expand rapidly. Ron wasn’t even aware of the pain of the bite anymore as he watched as black swallowed grey. It felt like Ron was staring into a dark abyss and that it would suck him in.
Draco was blind to Ron’s horror. The hot taste of copper consumed his senses followed by cold, black water rushing up all around him. The slimy feel of tentacles tangled around him painfully tight, restraining him and dragging him down deeper. God, his throat fucking hurt, but it was his jaw that was on fucking fire! Draco knew that feeling. His jaw was dislocated! But even that paled in comparison to the scream of his lungs because he COULDN’T BREATHE!
Draco bit down on the pain and panic; he tore into the dark and demanded answers. Something was calling to him. Something hidden in the dark water. Something repulsive and bloated, the white of a swollen, water-logged corpse…
Draco staggered back and half fell onto the couch. He was panting like he’d run a mile, sweat dampened his hair. Impatiently, he wiped at his face with his sleeve and looked up at Ron, checking on the kid. Ron stood rooted to the spot. His hand had fallen limp as soon as Draco had let him go. His finger was still bleeding a steady trickle, creating a red stain that grew wider on the rug with every second that passed.
“Shit,” Draco croaked. His throat felt tight and he scowled, rubbing it briefly as he got to his feet and grabbed Ron’s hand again. “You’re still bleeding,” he said, pointing out the obvious.
“What the hell?” Ron asked weakly, still staring dumbly. “What the hell?”
Draco sighed and towed the boy up the stairs by his bleeding hand. He didn’t bother knocking when he reached the twins’ room. Fred and George were up and sitting side-by-side on their bed; Percy sat across from them. They’d been talking quietly, but at Draco’s entrance, they’d fallen silent.
Draco raised Ron’s hand and shook it lightly. “He’s bleeding. Help him.”
Percy immediately rushed to the twins dresser and pulled out the first-aid kit, a necessary tool due to all their experimentation. He didn’t ask what happened. He vividly recalled Draco biting him all those years ago and what it had revealed. As he tended Ron’s finger, he gave Draco a searching look.
Draco didn’t have the answers Percy was looking for. Not yet. This vision had been more metaphorical than any of his previous ones, but he knew without a doubt that an outside force had wrought this fear in Ron. He also knew that Ron had been physically injured, and badly, around the face and throat. Draco had gotten one more thing from the vision, but he would need help with that one.
“Why don’t you guys go get breakfast,” Draco suggested significantly.
The twins shared a look. They were unusually subdued, clearly worried for their younger brother. “Sure thing,” they said with only a fraction of their usual cheer.
Draco nodded, confident that Percy at least understood his message and would stay away from the tower for awhile. He turned and walked quickly from the room.
As the twins dressed, Ron didn’t speak a word. He was still in shock. He was just an eleven-year-old boy at the end of his rope, exhausted. The thing with Draco had been the last thing he could cope with.
Percy finished wrapping Ron’s hand, but he didn’t let it go as he led his little brother downstairs. He didn’t bother stopping for Ron’s shoes. Anxiety buzzed around his chest, making Percy desperate to leave the tower as quickly as possible. The twins must have picked up on the tension. They didn’t make a single joke about Ron’s fuzzy socks.
…
The muffled sound of someone banging on his front door yanked Severus from sleep. Adrenaline burned through his veins and he was up and dressed in three minutes, pulling on a black, form-fitting wizard’s robe that flared out from his hips down to the floor and a pair of black slacks. Meanwhile, the banging never ceased. Stomping his feet into his shoes, he gave a quick flick of his wand to tie the laces.
Severus flung the door open. The vicious glare he wore on his face to keep up appearances melted instantly upon seeing Draco Malfoy standing before him.
“Snape,” Draco said quickly. “I need you to cast a spell in Gryffindor Tower that will reveal something hidden. You’re the only one who can do it because I know that spells involving secrets are typically Dark magic because of the resonance.”
Severus lifted his eyebrow. “Dumbledore…”
Draco slashed his hand out impatiently. “His denial will slow him down. I need this done quickly.” His eyes glinted silver. “Come on, Snape. You owe me.”
Severus wanted to argue, but there was no point. They both knew it was true. Draco had suffered terribly under Severus’s watch. And Severus had done nothing to help him recover. All he’d managed to do was brew a preventative to make sure it never happened again, which is the definition of too little too late. So Severus bowed his head forward, his oily, stringy hair falling in front of his face. “Very well.”
It took them about fifteen minutes to make their way up to the tower from the dungeons. Draco remained silent and focused the entire time. Severus began to understand that, whatever this was about, it was dangerous, which only made him more curious.
“What exactly to you expect to find?” he asked quietly once they stood in the common room.
“I’ll know when I see it,” Draco answered darkly. He gave Severus a ‘go-ahead’ gesture. “Well?”
“As you pointed out, this is a Dark spell,” Severus explained as he turned in a circle, just getting a feel for the room. “The wards will alert the Headmaster.”
Draco gave him a very unimpressed look. “How does that work, exactly? I mean, he couldn’t tell Quirrell was possessed or that I had been attacked.”
“At the time of your attack, the troll had created enough disturbance in the wards that smaller Dark works would go unnoticed. Quirrell was very careful to toe the line between grey and Dark magic, and when Dark magic was unavoidable, he likely cast an obscuring ward that would let him use the ambient magic of a school full of adolescents as a screen. As Hogwarts is mostly empty at this moment, that isn’t an option at this time.”
Draco snorted and flashed Snape a contemptuous look. “How convenient.” The spell over his mind may have been broken, but he still felt the lingering effects of his suspicion and dislike. “Then you’d better work fast, right, Snape?”
Severus cocked an eyebrow, reminded sharply of a young Lucius Malfoy, arrogant and demanding. It made his lips twitch in the beginnings of a smile, knowing Draco would hate the comparison.
Returning his attention to the task at hand, Severus explained what would happen. “I’ll be able to hold the spell for about nine minutes as I’m well rested. It will create a… vibration… around things saturated in negative psychic energy that were hidden. Whatever you’re looking for, be prepared to also find a disgusting amount of childish contraband,” he warned.
“I don’t care about any of that crap,” Draco reassured him. “I’ll move quick.”
Severus closed his eyes. His pale skin looked less sallow in the soft morning light, but his hair still had an oily sheen. Finding his center, he lifted his arms as if he were about to conduct an orchestra. Wand lightly held in his right hand, Severus intoned, voice hard and deep, “Revelabo stultitiam.”
Three places in the common room began to vibrate, little hidey-holes that held stolen candy, money, and a sweater. Draco quickly moved on, heading up the stairs to the dorms. Severus followed in his wake, his arms still up-raised with his wand swaying like a snake-head back and forth, back and forth.
Each dorm had dozens of hidden things just as Snape had warned, but Draco wasn’t deterred. As quickly as he could, he unlocked and uncovered each hidden nook before moving on to the next with single-minded determination. He didn’t bother wasting time putting everything back where he’d found it and left each dorm a mess behind him.
They were moving on to the second floor with only two minutes or so to go when Dumbledore showed up. Instead of interrupting or asking questions, he stood behind Severus silently and simply watched, a look of curious concern on his face.
As soon as they reached the second floor landing, something behind the bathroom door rattled with such violence that all three paused in surprise. Then Draco was moving forward quickly. He flung the bathroom door open with force, his eyes immediately drawn to a section of tiles under one of the sinks. They shook and vibrated so much that they seemed about to explode. Draco crouched down and crawled under the sink. His unlocking spell wasn’t enough to get the secret compartment to open. Severus dropped his hands, the Dark spell fading from the air. He shared a look with Dumbledore and nodded. Dumbledore gravely cast a stronger spell and the tiles flew off and hit the opposite wall with a crash.
Eyes silver, ice cold magic radiating from his core, Draco reached into the dark hole. His fingers could feel the hard outline of a wooden box. He pulled it out. It was a little smaller than a shoebox and he set it on his lap. He tried to open it, but another spell held it sealed shut. Draco shifted out from under the sink, still kneeling, and held the box up to Dumbledore.
“Open it. Please,” he asked, voice tight and hushed.
Dumbledore raised his wand. It took him a few tries, but they heard a distinct click and the lid opened a crack. Draco pulled the box back in toward his lap and opened the lid wide. Shock hit his system, making time come to a screeching stop.
Harry’s photograph sat on top of a pile of pictures. Harry was laying asleep in a small white corset Draco had never seen. It’d been cinched tight, too tight, around Harry’s waist. He couldn’t hear his boy, but he could see the gasping mouth, the flushed cheeks, and they way his chest fluttered with quick shallow breathing, and holy shit, Harry’s chest… It had only looked like that once before and never that bad.
His chest had been sucked until it was dark red, verging on black. The nipples sat fat and distended, the soft tissue swollen and bubbled up into tiny breasts. His abused skin glistened with spit. The top of the corset was wet and the sheet underneath Harry had damp patches, indicating an obscene amount of drool.
A roaring, rushing sound of a raging fire filled Draco’s head as he flipped to the next picture. It was of the same scene but a different angle. He quickly flipped to see there were four in total. One was a close up of Harry’s face, which showed Harry clearly deeply asleep, mouth gaping as he tried to breathe around the constriction of his lower ribs and diaphragm. Two were closeups of his chest. In one, the white dragon tattoo appeared for a brief flash, head poking out of the corset, teeth bared, then gone as the photo looped.
The second photo had caught the dragon standing, feet planted wide, tattooed on Harry’s sternum. Its head held back to look up at the camera, mouth falling open in a silent roar, its two wings outspread protectively over Harry’s bruised breasts, but it was just ink under his skin, a realistic drawing. It wasn’t manifesting the way Harry had described when he’d thought of killing himself. Draco knew instantly it was because the magic within the tattoo hadn’t been ‘instructed’ or ‘programed’ for a situation like this. Draco had never thought it possible, not when the black collar sat clearly around Harry’s throat and Draco was with him everyday.
The fifth picture was still of Harry, but it had to have been taken on a different night. It was focused around Harry’s face. An open sleep-robe was underneath him. He’d been pulled to the edge of the bed. His right arm hung limp over the edge. His head was turned sideways, his face wrecked.
His lips were bruised a dark red and swollen. His mouth gaped open. Cum splattered his face, his hair, across his nose, dripping from his mouth, his chin. Draco could see the white stuff in Harry’s mouth along with a flood of spit that dripped in strings to the floor. Draco watched the boy silently pant and cough, tears beading on his closed lashes and rolling from his temple to his hairline. The dragon, still a picture underneath Harry’s skin, sat covering most of Harry’s throat; its head rested on Harry’s jaw and it gave a fierce roar before the picture looped.
The sixth picture was also of Harry. Again, he was sleeping peacefully. He was spread out naked on his open sleep robe, but this time he was in the center of the bed. His arms hand been posed, stretched above his head, his thighs had been pressed open wide. Cum splattered his chest. His dragon tattoo sat where it normally resided, curled on the side of Harry’s waist above his hip. In the photo, it lifted its head, clearly confused, looking this way and that before the photo looped back to the beginning again.
Blood roaring through his veins and throbbing in his temples, Draco quickly set all the pictures of Harry close to his side, out of Dumbledore and Snape’s view, and quickly flipped through the rest, his mind racing. They were all of boys in their First-year, slender and mostly pale-skinned. None of them had been damaged like Harry.
Their sleeping bodies had been positioned on their stomachs with their thighs pressed together, or on their backs with their knees bent, thighs closed, and hips tilted to the side, or they were placed on their side directly. In all of these full body pictures, the boys’ thighs glistened with cum and oil. There were closeups, too, of limp hands half-curled, palm-up, by cum-splattered sleeping faces and of round asses and slick thighs.
Ron was in four full body photos and Draco recognized his freckled skin in five closeups. The twins also had a few pics. He took those out and set them with Harry’s. There were at least fifty other photos. Draco placed them back in the box and shut the lid.
Time seemed to slow. Dumbledore and Severus stood frozen, still trying to comprehend what they had seen in the photos Draco had sifted through. They stared at Draco in horror, braced for some violent action. Draco’s hair curtained his face, keeping it mostly from view, but they could just see the edges of his furrowed brows.
Draco stared blindly down at the box of horrors in his lap. Percy hadn’t been in any of the photos. It was clear to Draco that after Percy’s First-year, the rapist had been forced to move on. The pedo had also learned to be scared of being caught. None of these boys besides Harry and Ron were physically damaged and, unlike Percy, they were kept deeply unconscious.
But it hadn’t been as satisfying, so he’d taken photos to help recreate that feeling of power and sexual ownership. It had been enough for awhile, but as time wore on, he’d craved penetration, which had resulted in Harry’s abuse. Reasons the bastard had snapped when he’d gotten to Harry flew through his mind: because Draco had been out of the picture. Or in revenge for making Percy off limits. Or because Harry was androgynous. After all, none of those photos had focused on the boys’ genitalia.
In fact, in a lot of the photos, the pedo had purposefully posed the boys to hide their dick and balls. Harry had a round ass, and especially with the corset, the most girly curves. His face colored really pretty, too. His lips easily flushed red, his pink nipples also darkened with a little rough teasing. His throat was long and slender, his collarbones and musculature were delicate from the long-standing starvation and malnourishment as a toddler. Quidditch had put some muscle on Harry, but he was still lean and slender. But if the fucker was really into girls, why was he going after boys?
Draco’s breathing picked up as his mind raced, answers suddenly coming clear. The bastard must be trapped at Hogwarts for some reason. He’s unable to get to the girls in the dorms because of the ward against males, yet he hasn’t left Hogwarts to seek them out, so he’s afraid to leave. This is someone who’s terrified of being caught. Not because of playing with little boys, either. No, he’s hiding from something bigger.
Draco dropped his hand from the box to cover the stack of photos at his side. The bastard usually kept the kids asleep. He did that to ensure he wouldn’t get caught, like he had with Percy, but he really wanted them awake. He liked them weak and crying. It’d given him a sense of power when clearly he has none if he’s on the run and hiding twenty-four/seven. He’s going to panic big time when he realizes his stash has been found. It’s going to force him to flee!
Draco jumped to his feet, startling Snape and Dumbledore. “Block all the passages out of Hogwarts! Especially the secret ones! We might be too late, but there’s still a chance!” Draco pushed the box into Dumbledore’s arms and shoved the stack of photos of Harry and Ron into one of the big pockets of his coat. “We’ll catch him running!”
Severus ran behind the boy as Draco took off out of the bathroom, bolting for the stairs. “How do you know he’s still here?” he demanded, a hungry look in his eyes.
“He’d’ve taken his trophies if he’d left before now,” Draco explained impatiently and called over his shoulder, “I’d get the elves to help you. Even an ant trying to cross out of Hogwarts should be caught. Dobby!” he cried, running out of the portrait hole to the screams of dismay from the Fat Lady.
Dobby quickly popped into existence. His eyes widened and he sprinted after Draco and Severus, calling, “Yes, young master Draco?”
“Go to the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade,” Draco ordered. He’d learned the more specific you were with elves, the better the result, so he added, “Anything alive, no matter how small, that enters the shack I want you to immobilize. Don’t be seen. Go!”
“Yes, young master,” Dobby cried and disappeared with a pop.
Draco had never run so fast or so recklessly. He literally slid down the banisters and, when he couldn’t, he took the stairs three at a time. Snape quickly fell behind.
Draco was betting on two exits. The statue of the one-eyed witch by the stairs to the DADA classroom, leading to the cellar of Honeydukes, or the Whomping Willow, leading to the Shrieking Shack. Both passages would take the bastard directly outside Hogwarts’ wards to freedom. Draco was betting on the willow. It would take the bastard out of the castle the quickest. If he saw pursuers, he could hide better outside than in a corridor. Plus, it was faster to get to the Entrance Hall from the Gryffindor Common Room than transversing hallways to get to the one-eyed witch statue.
Draco hit the Entrance Hall running and flung himself at the main doors, shoving it open just enough to slip through. Icy cold wind smacked him in the face as he bolted out of the castle. Draco definitely wasn’t dressed for the weather. He was fucking freezing. His hands and face already felt like ice. The thin t-shirt he wore under his open coat did nothing to keep his torso warm, but Draco didn’t fucking care. He grit his teeth to prevent them from chattering and ran across the grounds, curving toward the Whomping Willow.
Shit! The man had a fucking huge head start! If Draco was lucky, the bastard hadn’t realized he was about to get caught until Draco had arrived with Snape, but he could have overheard Draco talking to Ron about his dream, in which case the bastard had close to an hour already to get out. Draco was fucking hoping the bastard only caught on when Snape cast his spell, otherwise Draco would probably never catch this fucker. He’d fucking get away with it!
Adrenaline made Draco's vision almost painfully sharp, but he couldn’t hear shit over his thundering heart. If this fucking bastard got away… Draco had to bite back a howl of rage. The willow came into view, and as it did, Draco saw two figures. Running closer, he saw it was the twins. One was knocked unconscious, his head bleeding. The other was clearly distressed, crouching over him and holding a bloody scarf to his head.
“What happened?” Draco demanded breathlessly, hooking his hair behind his ear. He crouched down and felt relief when he saw that Fred was still alive.
George looked up wild-eyed, face pale as a ghost. “We were leaving the Great Hall after breakfast. Ron saw Scabbers run out the front doors and took off after him. We chased him all the way here and Scabbers did something to the tree. It froze for a minute and a hole opened up. Ron and Percy dove inside. We heard Ron scream and Percy shout, but when we tried to go after them, Fred got knocked in the head really hard. I dragged him clear, but I can’t get close to the tree! We have to help them!”
“How long ago?” Draco snarled. Fucking Scabbers! Percy’s fucking rat!
“I don’t know! Ten minutes?” George cried, panicked.
“Snape’s on his way. Wait here for him.” Draco got up and dove for the tree.
Remus had given Draco a primer on Hogwarts. It had included the Whomping Willow, so he knew how to slide under the violently swinging branches. He kicked the knot exposed at the base of the tree and a section of the ground fell away. He dropped down into a dark passage, landing in a crouch. Another body dropped down next to him just as the ground reconstructed over their heads.
Draco spat, “Lumos.”
George met him glare for glare. “Snape can get Fred. I’m going after my brothers!”
Draco didn’t have time to argue. It was a good sign that they hadn’t found Percy or Ron’s dead body at the entrance of the tunnel, but that also meant the bastard had taken them.
They made their way at a quick jog down the dirt tunnel, which was long and winding. The floor gradually slopped upward, making Draco’s calves and lungs burn, but he didn’t slow down. George panted beside him. He was clearly afraid. Damn Gryffindors and their bravery. Fuck.
The end of the tunnel came into view suddenly, much closer than expected. Draco reached out and grabbed George’s arm to stop him. “Dobby.”
The elf popped next to them. “Yes, young master?”
“Did you catch anyone?”
“Yes, young master. A man, two boys, fifty-six spiders…”
“Enough.” Draco held up his hand, not wanting to hear a litany of insects. He rubbed Dobby’s head as he passed. “Good job.” He bounded up the stairs and through the hatch without fear. A cruel smile cut across his features.
A short, pudgy, dirty man had Ron by the hair. The boy was missing one of his socks. He was filthy and exhausted, but he wasn’t afraid. Ron glared fiercely up at the man who was cruelly dragging him along by his hair. The man also had a wand, it looked like Percy’s, pointing to Ron’s head, but the gabby man’s attention was not on Ron but on Percy. His beady eyes were glittering, almost feverishly, as he ordered the teenager around. Percy had his hands upraised in surrender. He was clearly terrified for his brother. The man was feet from the shack’s front door and freedom, but he’d clearly gotten caught up in whatever scene was going on.
“Good boy,” Draco muttered, speaking to Percy, proud and grateful as fuck.
“Ron!” George cried and pushed past Draco to go to his brother.
“Wait!” Draco commanded and the redhead froze. Draco looked at Dobby, who stood beaming happily at his side. “Can you leave just the man immobile?”
Dobby nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, young master Draco!” He snapped his fingers.
Ron and Percy both came to life, Ron grunting in pain and Percy in mid-word. Both quickly realized what was happening as George ran up to help Ron get his hair free from the man’s frozen grip.
“Draco!” Percy cried in relief.
Draco gave him a brief smile before yanking the wand out of the man’s hand and tossing it back to the teen.
“Get mine, too!” Ron demanded, panting and pissed off. “It’s in his pocket.”
As Draco rummaged in the man’s dirty coat pocket, Percy asked quietly, “Who is he?” He had a protective grip on both of his brothers, holding them by their upper arms and drawing them a few steps away.
Draco found Ron’s wand and tossed it to the boy. He knew by Percy’s tone of voice that the redhead understood that this was the man who had hurt him and his little brother, but Draco couldn’t comfort him right now. He had another job to do and his heart sang with a dark joy as his core magic began to flood his system.
“Peter Pettigrew,” Snape hissed in shock as he stepped through the trap door. His eyes looked crazed as he stared at the frozen man. “That’s not possible.”
“He attacked me and Percy! Said he missed Percy. That no one was as good as him, not even Harry. What was he talking about, Percy?” Ron demanded, looking up at his brother, suspicion written all over his features.
“Be quiet,” Draco hissed, flashing Ron a dangerous look that shut him up quick.
Peter Pettigrew? Draco stared at Snape, but the look on the man’s face told him he Snape was certain. Remus had told him and Harry stories of his time as school. Of course he had. Peter and James had featured prominently. As well as a third name, but not quite as often because it caused Remus even greater pain to speak it. Sirius Black. The betrayer of the Potters and the murderer of Peter and a dozen muggles. Yet here stood Peter. In hiding and molesting little boys at Hogwarts.
“Incarcerous.” Severus cast with such force and hatred the man was wrapped from chin to ankles in thick rope. “Remove your spell, elf.”
Dobby looked to Draco, his long, pointed ears flapping cutely.
Draco stared fiercely into Snape’s dark eyes. “No,” he said, coldly defiant.
“We must take him back, Draco,” Severus argued, tone heavy with meaning.
Draco didn't give a shit about whatever information this man may or may not have. He didn’t care about the implications. There was no way Draco was going to leave him alive. Not after what he had fucking done. “We take care of this here. Now.”
“In front of the children?” Severus demanded, eyes flashing briefly to the Weasleys who had fallen quiet as they watched.
“Yes,” Draco insisted and repeated, “Here. Now. If you can’t handle watching, turn away.” Deadly magic burned through his veins.
“Murder is not the answer!” Severus snapped, but then his voice gentled. “He will suffer unimaginably, Draco. Trust me in that.”
“You may ask him questions, but then he’s mine,” Draco insisted, compromising as much as he was going to.
“That is enough!” Severus bellowed, enraged at the boy’s attitude. “Murder is not an option, you sadistic savage! I am taking him back to Hogwarts where we will make sure he is punished in a way that will not land you in Azkaban Prison! I’m not asking, Draco! I’m telling you. Remove. The. Spell. Now.”
Draco bared his teeth, but he bit out a sharp, “Do it.”
Dobby, smile long gone, looked back and forth between the dark wizard and his young master and snapped his fingers.
Pettigrew gave a pained grunt, nearly falling as the ropes curled tighter. His wild eyes took in Snape and Draco. He gave a rat-like squeal of terror and began to rapidly shrink. Within the blink of an eye, he was out of sight behind a huge pile of rope. Snape cast a spell that was shielded by the very rope he had conjured. Ron shrieked and Percy tried to shield his brothers with his body.
While Snape’s reaction was to cast magic and the boys went on the defense, Draco was a predator. His body had reacted the split-second Pettigrew had begun to shrink and lunged forward. He was halfway to the rope-pile when Snape’s spell hit harmlessly. Draco instinctively knew where the rat would run - toward the door, toward freedom, away from Snape. Draco’s hand snapped out with frightening precision, eyes gone silver, and closed around the body of the rat just as it leapt for freedom between two coils of rope.
It had been two short days since Draco had woken from what had felt like an endless retelling of his past. The instincts and bloodlust of a feral slave boy who lived in the dark bowels of a ship ruled Draco completely.
The rat barely had time to scream before Draco ruthlessly bit down, violently tossed his head to the side and twisted his hand away, biting the rat’s head clean off. Blood sprayed the side of Draco’s face. He spat the disgusting head out of his mouth and dropped the body. They were already transforming back to human.
George and Ron both screamed as the head rolled and grew, spurting blood. It came to a stop mere feet from them; its watery eyes staring dead at the ceiling. Percy grabbed them both, physically blocking their view with his body, yanking them close and holding their heads to his shoulders. George resisted, staring at Draco with wide eyes over his older brother’s shoulder. Draco stood slowly and spat once more to try to clean his mouth of the taste of blood.
Enraged, shocked, Severus flew at the boy, screaming, “You imbecile!” His hands raised to shake or slap the boy, he had no idea, but he froze as Draco’s pupils suddenly dilated.
“Blood black as tar with guilt and fear. Betrayer, rapist, murderer, thief,” Draco spoke in a weird sing-song, voice dark and smooth as silk. “Broke the soul of one, destroying her mind to save a bother. Betrayed a family to protect the secret that had been uncovered. Murdered dozens to ruin the brother he saved. Raped the body of an innocent to ease his suffering. Touched the forbidden to feed the growing darkness. Stole the life of a child, breaking the boy’s mind to keep it hidden.”
Draco’s knees gave out and Severus caught him, his body reacting before he could think. Severus stared into eyes that were nearly all pupil, only a tiny sliver of grey lining the black. He shivered; it was like looking down into an endless dark tunnel.
Forcing his eyes from the boy’s, Severus stared at the severed head of Peter Pettigrew. His mind raced, the truth of Draco’s words resonating through his entire being. Pettigrew’s first guilt: Broke the soul of one, destroying her mind to save a brother. Merlin, it had been him. Pettigrew was the one who had instilled the compulsion in Lily to love James above all else.
Why? Why did you do it? Severus’s mind screamed in anguish.
“Come on,” Percy’s voice, thick with tears, cut through the silence. “Don’t look.” He kept his head ducked, not meeting Severus’s eyes as he led his two silent brothers toward the tunnel back to Hogwarts.
Severus looked down to see Draco blinking, his pupils constricting back to normal. He carefully tested the boy’s legs. Once he was satisfied Draco wouldn’t fall, he released him and stepped away.
“Should I get rid of the body, young master?” Dobby spoke up softly, looking up at Draco with innocent curiosity.
“No,” Severus answered harshly, glaring at the blond.
“No,” Draco agreed and tugged gently on the tip of Dobby’s ear. “Thank you, Dobby. You did an amazing job today. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
Dobby beamed up at Draco with pure joy, tears filling his eyes and spilling down his cheeks. “Young master doesn’t need to thank Dobby! Dobby would do anything for young master.”
Draco gave him a small smile and tugged affectionately one more time on his ear. “You can go home, Dobby. You did a good job.”
Severus sneered in disgust as the elf left sobbing tears of joy. He cast Draco a dark look. “You will come with me to the Headmaster.”
Draco shrugged easily. His lips curled in satisfaction as watched Snape shrink and store Pettigrew’s corpse in a box he’d conjured. The sick bastard would never hurt another kid again, but more importantly he wouldn’t walk around with the memory of getting off by hurting Harry. Something protective and fierce burned hot in his core and he followed after Snape without an ounce of regret.
…
Snape dropped the Weasleys off at the Hospital Wing before taking Draco directly to the Headmaster’s office. Draco had asked about Remus while they were there, having noticed the empty bed, and Pomfrey informed him that Remus had left shortly after their visit. Draco sighed. He didn’t want to interrupt Remus while he was making his decision. It was a critical one that would effect his entire future, so Draco would wait to tell him about Pettigrew when Remus contacted him with his answer.
Not five minutes later, Draco found himself ensconced in an armchair in front of Dumbledore’s desk while a horrified-looking McGonagall and the Headmaster listened to Snape’s recounting. They stood by the window, behind and to the right of Draco’s position, so Draco had to turn sideways in his chair to watch them.
Draco noticed that McGonagall held the box of photos, her grip blanching her knuckles white. She unconsciously held it slightly away from her body, clearly distress over the contents. She wore her tight, perfect bun, her favorite green robes, and looked prim and proper as always. Not that it would help her during this conversation.
Dumbledore had also cleaned up a bit. He’d tied his beard with twine since Draco had last seen him, and his long, silvery hair was held back away from his face in a low ponytail. In contrast to the other two, Snape looked completely disheveled. His ink black hair was tangled from the gusty winds they’d encountered on their walk back to the castle. One hem of his pants was tucked haphazardly into his shoe and the buttons on his wrists were undone, leaving his sleeves loose.
After ten minutes or so, the adults fell silent. Dumbledore spelled the chair Draco was sitting in to turn so that Draco faced them. When the Headmaster spoke, his voice was as hard as granite. “Explain this, Mr. Malfoy. I’ve heard from Professor Snape. Now I’d like to hear these events from your perspective.”
Draco sighed. Why these supposedly brilliant people need him to hold their hands, he’d never understand. “Ron’s hardly been sleeping for over a week now and unconsciously fears the dorms, so Percy asked me to talk to him since I’m not a Weasley. He thought Ron might open up more to a friend than a brother. So I did.”
McGonagall moved with heavy steps to sit in the armchair next to Draco’s. She turned it so that it faced the room, the same as Draco’s, and quickly set the box as far away from her as she could on Dumbledore’s desk behind her. The reality of what she’d missed in her own House was a visible weight on her shoulders.
Draco took her reaction in with an uncaring glance and continued. “When I talked to him, Ron told me he remembered a nightmare of drowning, of suffocating. Tentacles wrapped around his throat and held his mouth open. He remembered dying.”
McGonagall made a soft sound and Dumbledore had to look away from Draco’s too knowing eyes. Snape, on the other hand, looked made of stone as he stared at Draco unblinking. “The wards would have registered a student dying.”
“Should have,” Draco agreed, flashing a sharp smile. “Magic school like this. Would think there’d be protections against child rape and murder.”
Dumbledore’s head bowed, still turned away from Draco, while McGonagall flinched in her seat.
Draco continued, still ignoring them. “I knew exactly what that dream meant.” His eyes were full of a dark and gruesome knowledge. “Pedo’s typically like trophies, so I went looking. Didn’t expect photos, but it makes sense. Another form of power. Bastard was practically gagging for it.”
“We need to call the Aurors,” McGonagall said roughly, distruaght.
Draco shook his head hard. “Except for Ron, those kids don’t know shit about what happened. If it gets put in their files, you’ll be fucking them over a second time. Staining them with something that they could be spared from. We need to do right by them. Protect them.”
Dumbledore turned his face back to Draco. “Ronald…”
“He’s suffering,” Draco agreed, nodding. “He remembers the violation. He remembers being used whether he’s consciously aware of it or not. He needs help. A Mind Healer. The Aurors, too, I guess, if that’s what his family wants, but his abuser is dead, so I don’t much see the point unless it’s to prosecute you and McGonagall for your complete failure to protect and care for your students.”
Dumbledore actually faltered. Snape, wide-eyed, had to support his mentor with an arm while McGonagall began to cry silently.
Draco watched them through cold eyes, unimpressed. “So back to my perspective. I asked Snape to come. Hidden secrets resonate with Dark magic and I judge him to be the most efficient at helping me find anything that might be there. Dumbledore arrived and actually didn’t get in the way for once and we found the stash in the bathroom.”
Draco leaned forward, eyes intent on Dumbledore who watched him back with horror, still leaning on Snape. “The photos themselves told me a lot. Pettigrew’s been doing this for at least four years, as the oldest photos were of the current Fourth-years as First-years, but seeing as he’s been posing as the Weasleys’ pet rat for who knows how long, I can’t really be sure of when he started raping kids. The fucker kept his desire in check, though, while he was here. He only used the boys’s hands and thighs while they were unconscious and didn’t penetrate them, but while I was out, he snapped when he got to Harry.”
“My god,” Dumbledore whispered faintly. Blood drained completely from his face. Draco had hidden the first handful of photos. He’d suspected Draco was protecting someone, but he’d really hoped it wasn’t Harry. “Harry was in the photos?”
Severus's angry facade completely crumbled. His hand spasmed painfully tight around Dumbledore’s arm.
Draco lifted an eyebrow. “I took those photo’s out. You don’t need to see them. Also the photos of Ron. Anyway, Pettigrew snapped when he got to Harry. This could be because he just couldn’t contain it anymore or because Harry looks the most feminine of all these boys. Or it could be because he had a connection to Harry because he’d been friends with Harry’s parents. Either way he fucked Harry’s face, abused his throat pretty bad. I think you remember when Harry was in the infirmary with a sore throat, hardly able to talk. His voice would have been hoarse and raspy. You know, when your qualified nurse diagnosed him as coming down with a cold.”
“My god,” Dumbledore repeated. He looked like he was going to be sick.
McGonagall gasped, tears streaming silently down her face. “No…” she denied helplessly.
Severus snarled something unintelligible. He released Dumbledore to pace toward the window, rage in every line of his shoulders and back.
Draco’s lips curled in dark amusement at their complete uselessness. “Well, that’s when Pettigrew got a taste for fucking a kid’s face and there was no going back after that. There’s not a photo of it here, but I think he fucked Ron’s throat like he did Harry’s, but the bastard got too violent or the angle was wrong.” He didn’t mention that Harry was also familiar with breath-play and so his body may have instinctively handled it better. “The fucker dislocated Ron’s jaw and strangled him with his dick.”
“Enough!” McGonagall demanded, breathing hard. “Please…”
Draco cast her a disgusted sneer. “What? You can’t handle the truth?”
“You may leave if you need to, Minerva,” Dumbledore whispered. He kept his eyes on Draco, the expression on his face utterly broken. “Let the boy finish.”
Draco snorted. “Sure. Well, Pettigrew obviously revived Ron and healed him somehow. I mean, Ron never went to the infirmary with a sore throat, like Harry did. Not that it would have done him any good if he had,” he added innocently, gleefully rubbing salt in their wounds. “Pettigrew likely learned from his mistake with Harry.”
Draco then explained how he’d figured out Pettigrew was stuck at Hogwarts. He pointed out that the photos hinted that Pettigrew actually preferred girls, but that he hadn’t gone out to find them, which suggested he couldn't leave for whatever reason. Draco then walked them through his logic on why the Whomping Willow and the Shrieking Shack had been the most likely escape route and repeated what he’d learned from George at the willow.
Dumbledore had to admit, if to himself, that the fact there had been photos of Harry in that pile made Draco’s horrific actions more understandable, but it still begged the question. “Why did you kill him as you did?” he asked, practically begging for understanding. “Surely there were other ways?”
“Sure.” Draco shrugged. “There’s lots of ways to kill someone. Does it really matter how it’s done?”
“Yes,” McGonagall said softly. “Yes, it does.”
“It really shouldn’t. Dead is dead,” he argued, but he knew it was pointless. For whatever reason, they were essentially right. Manner of death mattered a great deal to society in general and Draco would do well to remember that. “I wasn’t intending to kill him like that. I was going to poison him. It’d be painful, but it wouldn’t last more than a few minutes.”
Draco stared off to the side, wondering how much he should tell them and figured he should probably do some damage control with the truth. He sighed and met their eyes. “Truth is, I just reacted. Down in the Hold, the rats got really bad sometimes. If you got too weak to fight them off, they’d attack you. Bite you all over. It hurt like a motherfucker and those fucking bites always got infected. The Master got rid any merchandise that got sick. Usually killed the kid right in front of the rest of us. It wasn’t pretty. I guess I still really hate rats.”
McGonagall got up and walked toward the door, but she hesitated there, her back to the room, her shoulders shaking. Severus had turned around to face Draco once more, eyes full of anguish, while Dumbledore hung his head.
Draco hardly noticed. The memories were too vivid. “So we learned to snap the necks of the rats that got to close. Kill them before they killed us. We’d grab them by the head and whip their body hard as we could. It was the fastest, safest, way of getting rid of the fuckers without getting bit.”
Draco shook his head, blinking back to the present. “I’m not going to lie. I wanted Pettigrew dead. He was too good at hiding and escaping. He hurt so many people. He hurt Harry. Seeing those photos with cum all over Harry’s face, watching him silently gasp and cough, crying in his sleep after that fucker got done with him… No. I couldn’t let him go. He’d always be out there, a threat looming over us. It all got mushed up in my head and I just reacted.”
“You gave a type of prophecy. I know the signs. It was legitimate,” Severus rasped, desperate to change the subject. He didn’t think he’d ever forget watching Draco spit out the rat’s head or the way the blood had gushed as the body transformed back to human.
Draco sighed. “Yeah. I’d like to keep it secret, but I’m a hemopath. I know shit when I taste someone’s blood. Pettigrew… I saw him do something to a girl. He did something to her soul and mind.”
“Lily,” Severus whispered hoarsely. “He altered Lily.”
“Most likely,” Draco agreed, hooking his hair behind his ear. “He betrayed a family, so I’m guessing he gave up the Potters. Then he framed a brother, which would be Sirius Black. Then he raped an innocent. Most likely a First-year boy here at Hogwarts. Then I would guess he almost got caught and went from raping to just touching. Then he killed Ron, but fortunately he was able to revive him.” Draco sneered in disgust. “Pretty revolting bastard all around.”
McGonagall turned to Dumbledore, eyes bloodshot and wide with horror. “Albus, if this is true…!”
Dumbledore held up his hand to forestall her. “It is my hope to not involve the Aurors in this case. Pettigrew officially died a decade ago. It will not be difficult to keep this internal.”
“What about…” McGonagall insisted.
Severus turned on her, snarling, “Predictable! Always trying to save Sirius Black no matter how high the cost!”
Dumbledore interrupted the argument before it could get any farther. His tone was harsher than Draco had ever heard it. “Even should we turn the body in and truthfully explain the situation, I doubt the Ministry will be so willing to correct their mistake. The unlawful imprisonment of an Heir of a Noble House is no small matter. Mr. Pettigrew is unable to testify or confess. His body would not be sufficient evidence to overturn Sirius’s conviction. Moreover, Draco would undoubtably face criminal charges. It would also make the experiences of those poor boys public. If we can protect them from further injury, we should do everything in our power. We owe them that much and more.”
Dumbledore strode around his desk and sat heavily in his chair. Draco had to lean over the arm of his armchair and look behind him to keep Dumbledore in sight. “That being said, we must speak to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. They will need to know what Ron has endured and that her children have witnessed a man’s death. If they wish to bring this to the Aurors after I’ve explained the situation, then I cannot rightfully stop them. We will have to wait to decide our next moves until after they’ve made their decision.”
Draco got up and stood facing the desk. Leaning his hip against the chair, he crossed his arms across his chest. “While you wait on that, why don’t you work on a way to make sure this never happens again?” he suggested sweetly, rage beginning to sparkle in his eyes.
“Draco…” McGonagall began, apology clear in her expression and tone.
Draco continued right over her, his eyes on Dumbledore. “I was just barely willing to let you off the hook about the Stone and being blind to Voldemort being in the fucking school, but a magical school that can’t prevent or detect the rape of its eleven-year-old students is fucking pathetic. Not to mention a staff that’s completely blind to the total mental breakdown of a student! Especially when there’s only a handful left in the school! Ron was falling apart and yet it took his fifteen-year-old brother to get him the help he needed! Whatever the Weasleys’ decide, Harry and I won’t be back until Hogwarts makes significant changes, starting with your resignation, Dumbledore.”
McGonagall’s mouth fell open in shock. Severus stood oddly still and silent.
“It’s clear you’re too distracted or out of touch to be Headmaster,” Draco pointed out with brutal honesty. “Maybe you’re spread too thin, I don’t know. Same for McGonagall. Maybe she has too many jobs, but a Head of House’s first priority is the monitoring of their assigned students’ health, behavior, and academics. There are too many kids in Gryffindor who needed attention and never got it or were left to the older students, and I should never have had to face the amount of bullying that I did from my own House. Furthermore, the blatant bullying at this school is due in part to the rampant discrimination and favoritism actively practiced by your staff as well as the inconsistent discipline. By Muggle standards, this place would have rightfully been shut down long ago for that alone.”
The silence was so deep Draco could hear his own breathing. Giving a dark, mocking smile, he pushed away from the chair with his hip and gave a mocking bow. “I’ll send an elf for our things, but before I go,” he turned to Snape. “I believe you have something for me?”
Severus left McGonagall and Dumbledore staring mutely and made his way down to his private chamber on autopilot. His mind was a whirlwind. Pettigrew - child molestation - Sirius Black - Lily - a Hogwarts without Dumbledore - two brutal murders - Voldemort’s shade - bullying - the idea of Harry in one of those horrific photos - Aurors and Azkaban - It was too much! He needed time to process and analyze everything.
Before he knew it, Severus was standing in his living room at his bookshelf, taking down a vial of dark purple potion with a spiraling black swirl in its depths. “This will prevent anyone from using magic to affect your mind, for example Legilimancy, memory or mood-altering charms, Imperio… Creatures that affect the mind like Dementors and boggarts will also be blocked. Your bond to Harry should not be affected. It is already a part of your magical signature and your mental landscape.”
Draco accepted the vial and turned it this way and that. It had the thick consistency of maple syrup. “What’s the downside? Why don’t more people take it?”
“It is exceedingly difficult to brew correctly. It also prevents any spells meant to support or heal your mind as well as preventing you from using any mental spells on other people. You won’t be able to cast Legilimency, for example,” Severus answered clinically, as if from a great distance. “It will also prevent you from being able to remove or store memories should the need arise. When it’s discovered, you will be viewed with suspicion. Typically it is the guilty who use this potion in an attempt to hide their crimes. Also, any magical device that requires access to the mind will not be functional for you. For example, the Sorting Hat.”
Draco nodded, but he’d already thought about this. The risk of his mind taking any more damage was too great. Without his mind, he was nothing. Taking a deep breath, he uncorked the vial and poured it into his mouth. He immediately had to resist spitting it out, the potion almost painfully bitter. His eyes teared up, his jaw ached, his tongue curled, but he forced himself to swallow.
Draco could feel the potion slide down his throat and coat his stomach. Something heavy and cold seemed to wrap around his head, like a steel crown that had been sitting in the snow. It felt so real that Draco lifted his fingers to touch his forehead, his fingertips meeting normal skin.
* Harry? I’m on my way home. * The calm of Harry’s emotions rippled into - love happy - in response, telling Draco that his boy could still hear him. Good.
Draco handed Snape the vial and gave him a genuine smile. “Thanks.”
Severus could only nod, accepting the vial with a limp hand.
Chapter end.
A/n: Whew! Okay. Was this the ending you craved when it came to Pettigrew? I know he didn’t really suffer enough, but he’s gone for good. That has to count, right?
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Freedom Bound in Chains