Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Freedom Bound in Chains	By : TaintedSensibly Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 58478 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 13
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Harry Potter characters. I did not make money from this story.

Chapter List
- 95
- 96
- 97
Judgement
Draco stepped out of the floo feeling exhausted. The photos in his pocket were burning an acidic hole through his stomach, but the memory of Pettigrew’s headless corpse helped keep him calm.
Harry got up from the couch, a warm smile on his face, his eyes bright - love happy.
Draco opened his arms and Harry flew into them, hugging him tightly. His head fit perfectly in the crook of Draco’s shoulder, his forehead pressing gently against Draco’s neck. Draco felt himself relax for the first time in hours. With a soft sigh, he rested his cheek on Harry’s soft, messy hair. Harry didn’t resist or question, filling the bond with - love gratitude.
* I love you, Harry, * Draco whispered with perfect truth into Harry’s mind.
- LOVE - surged strongly through the bond, washing Draco from the inside out with warm sunshine. “Love you, Draco,” Harry answered back, voice sweet.
“Didn’t go well, I take it?” Andromeda asked archly from the doorway, her arms crossed once more. She wore a deep purple, long-sleeved blouse tucked into a white gauzy skirt, emphasizing her curves, and black ankle boots. There were a few strands of grey in her light brown hair, noticeable only because she had her hair pulled back in a strict bun. She had the same aristocratic features as Narcissa, her face full of sharp angles, which were echoed in Draco’s face. The look of disdain she wore now was sharp enough to cut most people.
Draco ignored her. Andromeda shifted restlessly in the doorway, leaning forward, expressing becoming thunderous. Draco relented, but he still didn’t speak to her. He spoke to Harry. Pulling back to look into his boy’s bright eyes, he told him, “I asked for Dumbledore’s resignation. We don’t need to discredit him publicly. We still have Voldemort to face.”
Andromeda’s eyes lit up, her whole body language unfolding. She flashed a sharp, victorious smile. “Good. Lunch is ready.”
“I’m not hungry,” Draco finally let Harry go, but he held tight to his boy’s hand. “I’m kind of tired. I’m going to take a nap. Didn’t sleep last night.” He gave Harry’s hand a squeeze and let him go. “Go eat. Meet me in the bedroom when you’re done.”
Harry nodded, accepting the decision, however, by the way his eyes glinted, Draco knew Harry would eat fast in order to join him as quickly as possible.
Draco smiled that soft smile that belonged only to his boy and went upstairs to their room. The first thing he did was open the little drawer in their small desk and grab the box of matches they’d thrown in there for lack of a better place to put them. Alone in the quiet of their bedroom, Draco took the photos out of his coat pocket. Rage slammed through his chest like a speeding train as soon as he saw the images of Harry’s abuse once more.
With deliberate movements, he stalked to the wastebasket in the corner and picked out all the photos of Harry, setting aside the closeup of Harry’s cum-smeared face. He dropped the rest into the empty wastebasket. Teeth bared, hot blood raging through his veins like a tsunami, Draco struck a match.
Wizarding photos burn just like muggle ones. He caught the corner of the face-shot photograph he held and dropped it on top of the others. Quickly growing yellow flames reflected in his pale eyes as he watched the pictures burn. He stared unblinking as they turned black and shriveled, ashes floating up on the heated air. He watched until every last shred of evidence of Harry’s abuse had been erased. He wished he could destroy the ones of the Weasley boys, but it wasn’t his place.
Stomping back over to the desk, Draco yanked the wooden chair out and sat, his movements sharp with anger. Taking out some muggle stationary and a pen, he wrote out a quick note. (No matter how much Narcissa had tried, Draco had never really liked wizarding materials.) The letter was a simple request to Mrs. Weasley, asking her to meet with him at her earliest convenience. His second letter was much longer.
To Hermione and Neville, he began. He wrote out the story of the battle of the Stone, telling it in the same way he’d told Ron and Percy.
He ended it with: In short, those barriers were never supposed to protect the Stone but test us! The Devil’s Snare for Neville. The flying keys for Harry. The chess set for Ron. The troll for me. The logic puzzle for you. Add this to the fact that it wasn’t just a Dark wizard we were up against, but Voldemort’s unresting shade! We nearly died! I had to kill Quirrell to protect myself! We’re only eleven and Dumbledore’s already taking these kinds of risks?
I hate to say it, but Harry and I won’t be back to Hogwarts unless Dumbledore resigns. He’s clearly more interested in the war than our education and safety. That’s fine in its place, but while we’re at school, I need our education to be priority. Especially if we’re to survive. When school starts again, please forward the assignments. Harry and I will do them from home. If by next year, Dumbledore still won’t step down, we’ll find another school. Beauxbaton or Salem Academy or even private tutoring.
Draco didn’t seal the letter. He knew Harry would want to add something to the bottom. He stood and stretched, his anger having burnt down to ashy embers. He took off his coat and dropped it carelessly over the back of the chair.
As Draco flopped face-first down on the bed, a pop sounded from the center of the room. Undisturbed, he turned his head to see Dobby standing in the middle of the room. Their expensive, top-of-the-line school trunks sat at his feet and their non-foldable clothes floated on hangers in the air.
Draco rolled over and sat up. “Thank you, Dobby. I’ve asked you to work really hard today.”
Dobby flapped his ears, smiling happily up at his young master. He carefully deposited the nice clothes into the closet. “Being my pleasure, young master Draco, sir!”
The bedroom door opened softly and Harry slipped inside, locking the door behind him. He smiled at seeing the excitable little elf. “Hello, Dobby! Did you bring all our stuff? Thank you!”
Dobby gave Harry a tender smile and bounced over to hug the boy around the thighs. He’d been delighted when he’d learned years ago how much Harry enjoyed gestures of affection, even from a lowly elf. “Do yous be needing anything else?”
Harry smiled brightly at the elf’s hug and happily returned the gesture. “I’ll unpack. It’s okay, Dobby,” he denied quickly, hating to give him more work.
“Take the folded letter to Mrs. Weasley, please,” Draco told him, gesturing lazily to the desk. “I promise I won’t bother you again today.”
Dobby quickly fetched the letter. “Oh! No! Yous not bother Dobby at all! Call Dobby any time, young master Draco, Harry sir!”
“We will,” Harry reassured him and waved as Dobby disappeared with a pop. Harry then turned his attention to Draco. Making his way to the bed, he crawled across it to join the blond. “He was happy.”
Draco grabbed Harry and rolled him so that Harry was lying underneath him. With an unusually needy look, he leaned down and kissed Harry gently, simultaneously hooking the boy’s black-framed glasses off his face. Harry melted into the kiss, his hand coming up to card through Draco’s silk-soft hair. Draco leaned into the gentle touch and deepened the kiss, hungrily swallowing Harry’s moans.
A surge of emotion rose hot and heavy through Draco’s core. He moved his mouth to Harry’s chin, kissing and sucking softly on the skin there. His lips slid up Harry’s jaw, over the boy’s cheek, and across his nose. Harry giggled, fingers tangled in Draco’s hair. Draco smiled against Harry’s warm skin, kissing along the boy’s blushing cheek and down the other side of his jaw. Salty tears dripping from his cheeks further wet Harry’s skin, washing it clean.
Draco pulled back to look into Harry’s eyes. * Mine! * he growled along the bond. And it was true.
This was his! Harry was his! No one would ever see the way Harry’s eyes sparkled when his face was tickled with kisses or the way he flushed and smiled so sweetly, so honestly. No one else would get to see Harry reaching out to them with desire and need. They wouldn’t feel Harry’s heart coursing with so many powerful emotions. Pettigrew had manipulated Harry’s body, but that had been hollow, a reflection of his own desire. Harry had not been there.
Overwhelmed with a painful mixture of joy and anger, Draco pulled away and sat back on his knees. Harry’s eyes went wide, his smile melting into a look of concern as Draco covered his face and cried. Harry sat up, enfolding Draco in his arms - compassion worry.
In response, Draco wrapped his arms tightly around Harry’s waist and pressed his wet face against the boy’s chest, directly over his heart. * I’m okay, * he promised, mental voice soft and needy. * Just hold me a minute. *
Green eyes going soft, Harry held Draco close. - Love admiration - filled his heart near to bursting. He didn’t know what Draco had faced at Hogwarts, not yet, but he knew whatever it was had been difficult. Whatever had happened Harry knew Draco had faced it head on, fearlessly, and hadn’t flinched away from making hard decisions. Draco had taken care of everything, and Harry was so grateful it hurt. Now it was his turn to take care of Draco.
As Draco pulled away from the hug, the last of his tears catching on his lashes, Harry feathered his fingers over the blond’s jaw and lips. “Please, Draco?” he asked softly, looking lovingly into the blond’s eyes.
Draco gave a wan smile, practically vibrating with emotion. He shifted off his knees and fell softly back onto his ass. Harry sat in front of him in jeans and a big red sweater with his legs bent on either side in a w-sitting position, his knees comfortably spread. His wild black hair fell cutely over his forehead and over his ears, cheeks a soft pink, eyes unshielded by glasses. He was beautiful.
Draco draped his legs over Harry’s and set his feet firmly in the space between each of Harry’s out-turned feet and his ass, caging Harry’s body. Leaning backward, placing his weight on hands placed slightly behind him, Draco looked at Harry, eyes dark and vulnerable. “Show me,” he said, voice rough from holding back tears.
Heart pounding, Harry reached eagerly for the hem of Draco’s t-shirt. His fingers brushed the blond’s warm stomach, making his own jump in anticipation. Draco leaned forward off his hands, allowing Harry to pull the shirt over his head. As Harry dropped it carelessly to the side, Draco settled back on his hands again, his torso on full display.
“Mmm…” Harry hummed in pleasure, running his fingers lightly over the lines and blotches that covered nearly the entirety of Draco’s chest. But this wasn’t the time to selfishly absorb himself in all the planes and textures of Draco’s body. He was supposed to be taking care of Draco. Concentrating, he stroked Draco’s skin, running his fingertips in a sensual caress down from the blond’s collarbones to the waistline of his pants. Goosebumps rose along Draco’s arms, the blond’s lips parting as his breathing deepened.
Harry’s eyes fastened to the pale, white-pink of Draco’s nipples. He stroked them, thrilling when they pebbled under his touch. Draco’s tense expression had melted into something more relaxed and watchful. His head fell back slightly to the side, expression patient, as Harry continued. Harry smiled at his love, heat beginning to pool low between his legs. Instinctively, Harry’s knees tried to draw together to relieve the building pressure, but Draco’s hips were in the way, holding them spread. A knowing smile curled Draco’s lips and Harry shivered, eyes fluttering closed.
* Eyes on me, Harry, * Draco murmured, a silken purr through his mind, eyes beginning to glint silver. He wanted to see that beautiful, bright green. Needed Harry awake and aware and making his presence known. Needed Harry to be with him, fully and completely, to obliterate the images burned in his mind of a sleeping and passive Harry getting abused.
Obediently, Harry kept his eyes on Draco’s as he leaned forward and pressed his hot tongue flat to Draco’s chest. He dragged it slowly upward, leaving a wet trail of saliva in its wake. His tongue slid hotly over scar tissue and smooth skin and finally bumped over Draco’s nipple. Harry lifted his face away, lowered his head back down and did it again, never breaking eye-contact. Each time he licked over the blond’s nipple, Draco’s breath hitched and Harry smiled, delighted.
After several minutes, Harry switched sides, letting the cool air slowly dry the spit he’d left behind on the other. Heat began to radiate off Draco’s body, absorbing into Harry’s own. It was hard to keep his eyes open, even though he couldn’t get enough of Draco’s flushing cheeks and predatory eyes. Harry’s lashes fluttered with every soft sound of pleasure Draco made, the heat in Harry’s blood lapping higher and higher with each soft sigh and sucked in breath.
Their pleasure fed on each other’s until things began to blur. Harry found himself leaning over his own lap, head cradled to Draco’s chest, nursing hungrily at the blond’s nipple. Draco had curled over him, lips brushing Harry’s temple, pressing words of love into Harry skin that he couldn’t hear but nonetheless felt as loud as a shout.
Harry’s entire body felt dipped in warm honey. He throbbed in time with his heartbeat and his fingers played entreatingly with the button of Draco’s pants until, finally, Draco unhooked them, gifting Harry access.
Draco never wore underwear so Harry slipped his hands inside that open V and instantly came in contact with Draco’s rigid length. It felt so familiar to Harry, but also new somehow. Was it harder? Longer? Sensing his curiosity, Draco’s sheltering arms fell away. He leaned back and braced his arms against the mattress once more, watching Harry with a heated gaze.
Breathing heavier now, Harry touched and fingered Draco’s length. The heat of it, the contrast of rigid muscle and silky skin, it ratcheted up Harry’s desire. His eyes darkened with lust and he looked up at Draco, begging wordlessly for permission.
Draco considered it. Harry’s desire pulsed and throbbed, undulating through him. He leaned his weight onto one hand, freeing the other to come up and brush at Harry’s bottom lip. Harry’s mouth was flushed and swollen, slightly parted. Draco stroked his lips softly. Harry opened his mouth wider, but this time Draco ignored the invitation.
Like lightning, the image of Harry’s sleeping face, tear-streaked and covered with Pettigrew’s cum, flashed before his eyes. The knowledge that Harry had gone to the Healer, throat inflamed and battered, voice hoarse, echoed like thunder. It made him want to mark the boy’s face and also feel repulsed by the idea at the same time.
“You want to taste it?” he asked, voice low and calm, hiding the turmoil raging inside. He already knew the answer, but he needed to hear it. Needed to see Harry’s eager desire, a vivid contrast to Harry’s unconscious body in those horrific photographs.
“Yes, Draco,” Harry answered eyes bright with no notion of shame, a flood of - excitement desire pleasure - rushing through the bond.
Draco rebelled against the horror in those photos. Harry’s honest desire went a long way, but he still couldn’t bear the thought of penetrating the boy’s throat. Not tonight. Not while the ashes of corruption coated the wastebasket in the corner. “Tongue only,” he growled, dropping his hand back behind him, bracing his weight and opening himself to his boy.
Harry folded forward gracefully, a happy sound escaping him as he gripped the base of Draco’s dick to hold it steady. He pressed his tongue flat, dragging it across the top of the sensitive head in slow licks. When it began to ooze milky pre-cum, Harry eagerly tried to lap inside the tiny hole, chasing the bitter/salty taste. Harry glanced up into Draco’s burning gaze and bestowed tickling kisses around the head before swirling his tongue wholly around it.
Draco watched, lips parted, as Harry teased him. His body twitched again and again as shocks zapped straight to his balls and up his spine, his nipples tingling like mad. Eventually he let his head fall back, his eyes falling closed, basking in Harry’s - devotion pleasure excitement. “So good…” he moaned in praise.
His thighs closed tight around Harry’s shoulders, holding him in place. When the pleasure began to sharpen, Draco’s core pulsing brighter, faster, he quickly tugged Harry up and off. Fisting the boy’s hair, Draco pulled Harry into a wet, opened-mouth kiss. They panted heavily into the kiss, Harry surrendering sweetly to Draco’s plundering tongue.
Just as Harry grew dizzy from not enough oxygen, Draco released his hold on the boy’s hair, letting him breathe. “Get your pants off. Climb into my lap,” he ordered, voice husky.
Harry immediately got to his knees and undid his pants. Draco’s gaze was an almost physical sensation on his skin. It was filled with so much desire and appreciation that Harry nearly fainted. It still blew his mind that someone, anyone, let alone someone like Draco, could find him desirable. That heated look consumed him; he lived for it! So his hands slowed, turning his movements into a striptease.
Draco’s pulse jumped as Harry put on a little show. “God, Harry…” he murmured in approval. He watched, still in the same position with his knees bent, legs open, and his hands braced behind him. His dick stood up hard against his lower belly, framed by the sharp V of his hips and the open mouth of his jeans. He was topless, but still wore his sneakers as well as his pants.
Checks burning red, shyly staring at Draco through his lashes, Harry slowly pushed his pants down over his hips and even slower down his thighs. Rocking his weight backward, pelvic swaying toward Draco, he got his toes under him and pushed up to his feet, knees still bent in a crouch, pants caught in the crook of his knees. Heart beating a mile a minute, Harry carefully stood, swaying his hips. His pants fell to his ankles and Harry kicked them to the floor. He stood before Draco in a big red sweater and small black underwear, an inferno of - excitement pleasure need - burning through his core.
With Harry standing and Draco sitting, the blond got an excellent, eye-level view of Harry’s stiff cock held captive by his tight, black briefs. Draco ran his eyes over Harry’s slender body that was engulfed in the baggy sweater he wore with long naked legs on display. He took in every detail, thrilling when it made the boy shiver, those uncovered green eyes burning bright.
“Now the rest,” he prompted, voice a low rasp.
“Y-yes, Draco,” Harry answered breathlessly, nearly panting.
Glancing down submissively, Harry repeated the slow downward movement with his black underwear. He kicked them aside and knelt once more. Slowly, teasingly, he tugged his sweater up his stomach, over his chest, and off. Looking into Draco’s face for first time since he’d touched his underwear, Harry moaned as he looked into the blond’s molten silver eyes.
With that one look, playtime was over. Hunger drowned out all other thoughts. All there was, was need. Their magic locked together like two sets of hands, pressing at each other, wrestling. Harry was panting, trembling. Draco sat perfectly still, a predator watching prey from tall grass.
“On my lap,” he ordered, still not moving an inch.
Hypnotized, dizzy with lust, Harry carefully knee-walked forward in-between Draco’s legs. He braced himself against Draco’s shoulders and chest, awkwardly climbing into the bowl of Draco’s lap. Draco groaned hungrily as Harry’s thighs spread open wide around his jean-covered hips. In this position, he had a glorious view down Harry’s back of the boy's round ass. Once Harry was settled, he canted his hips, arching his back slightly, and gasped, their bodies slotting together.
The atmosphere became charged, heavy. Instead of two forces pressing at each other, their magic melded into one throbbing whole. Hot and cloying, the room filled with humid heat. Draco's jeans rubbed roughly at Harry’s ass and thighs, the open zipper was a threatening bite against his skin, but Draco was pressed perfectly against him, their rigid lengths trapped side-by-side pressed between their bodies.
Harry braced his hands on the bed next to Draco’s hips and began to move. His hips rolled in an undulating motion that made his ass bounce sensually. He gave a warbling cry, feeling his dick dragging against Draco’s and rubbing against the sweat-damp skin of the their stomachs. The sting of Draco’s jeans added another note to the overwhelming symphony of pleasure.
Draco panted hard against Harry’s ear. He held himself perfectly still, taking in everything he could - the way Harry’s ass moved, the way the boy rubbed his entire body against Draco’s, the song of Harry’s gasps and moans. He hungrily drank down the sweet, musky smell of Harry’s skin and the earthier flavor of sex. The feeling of Harry alive and wanting and aware working his body passionately against Draco’s burned through him, bringing tears of triumph to his eyes.
In minutes, Harry was drenched in sweat, his hair hanging heavy and limp, curling around his cheeks and neck. He literally soaked Draco underneath him. Draco growled, low and hungry, but still he didn’t move. He let Harry work until his muscles burned and trembled with exhaustion, his voice lifting in audible cries of pain/pleasure. Until Harry flung his arms around Draco’s neck desperately, panting helplessly, body shuddering, on the edge of flying apart, and then Draco moved.
Magic dragging invisible claws down Draco’s back, he rolled so that Harry was under him. Instinctively Harry wrapped his legs tightly around Draco’s waist, his arms holding just as tightly to Draco’s neck. Draco crushed their mouths together, swallowing Harry’s cries, muffling them. He thrust with careful force, dragging his entire body up and down the slippery planes of Harry’s torso and dick. Harry responded in kind, undulating and pressing desperately up against him.
Magic curled and twisted in on itself, strumming a vibrant note of urgency through the room, and they moved as one, hips rolling, a storm building between them. Draco thrust his tongue again and again deep into Harry’s mouth, owning it. Harry swallowed greedily, but still spit spilled past the seam of their lips, soaking his chin.
Draco crushed their bodies together, wrapping himself around Harry as if he were trying to engulf him completely. It was like a pressure cooker. Soul-deep pleasure climbed through his nerves like the low whistle of a tea kettle growing louder and louder.
The explosion hit simultaneously, magic punching down through their fragile bodies. They screamed into each other’s mouths, vision going dark, ears ringing. Bright pinks, oranges, and yellows flared along their nerves as muscle spasms locked them even tighter together. Hearts stuttering, eyes rolling, they passed out in each other’s arms. The leftover magic rippled outward in a wave, saturating the surrounding area. The bulk of it was absorbed by the complex wards tied to the house keeping them safe.
…
They slept straight through dinner and would likely have slept straight through the night except for Andromeda knocking loudly on their door. “Draco? Molly is here to see you!”
Draco’s eyes snapped open, heart pounding with the influx of adrenaline. He was sprawled on top of Harry’s naked body. Pushing up, he literally had to peel their chests apart. Harry gave a sleepy grunt, face screwing up in discomfort.
“Draco!” Andromeda rattled the doorknob. “You know I don’t like you locking your door!”
“I’m coming!” he shouted back, completely ignoring her complaint just as she knew he would. He turned his attention to Harry, the boy squinting up at him in the shadows of the darkened room. “Come on,” he said, pulling the boy up into a sitting position by his forearms. “Go take a shower while I talk to Mrs. Weasley.”
Harry frowned, but he didn’t hesitate to get out of bed and reach for his jeans.
Draco reached out to smooth his hand down the boy’s bare arm. “We’ll talk after she leaves,” he promised softly.
Harry accepted that with a nod, saying, “Yes, Draco,” in an equally soft voice. He pulled his sweater on and picked his glasses up from the floor.
Draco pulled on his jeans and an old, grey hoodie that he’d left in their closet. He took the photos from the pocket of the blue coat he’d flung over the desk chair and shoved them into the front pouch of the faded hoodie.
Harry didn’t ask any questions. He knew whatever Draco held wasn’t anything good by the rigid line of the blond’s shoulders. Harry felt himself stand straighter. Whatever it was, he wanted to be strong enough to help Draco with it.
They left the room together, but they separated quickly: Harry to the bathroom and Draco heading downstairs. Mrs. Weasley hadn’t made it far from the floo in the living room. She paced in front of the sofa restlessly while Andromeda and Ted stood side-by-side next to the hearth, watching with wide-eyes and uncertain expressions.
Mrs. Weasley wore a long-sleeved dress, maroon with pink flowers, and a brown, self-knitted cardigan. Her bright orange hair was frizzy and wild around her head. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her expression hard and grim, mouth set in a tight line. She didn’t seem to notice Draco standing in the doorway.
Draco cleared his throat and said, “Thank you for coming.”
Mrs. Weasley whipped around and pinned Draco with a ferocious look that honestly shocked him. This was the first time Draco had seen the matriarch truly angry and he suddenly remembered that four years ago both Molly and Andromeda had been called to the Hunt while their husbands had been left behind to Dance.
Draco turned with forced calm toward Andromeda and Ted. “We need a minute alone, please.”
Andromeda frowned at that. “What is this about?” She looked to her good friend in entreaty. “Molly?”
“Please,” Molly said carefully, not looking away from Draco. “Give us a minute.”
Ted placed a gentle yet insistent hand on his wife’s arm. “Come, Dromeda. Let’s make some tea.” He gave Draco a supportive nod as he pulled her from the room. Andromeda wasn’t happy with it, though, and she flashed Draco a look that promised they would talk about it later.
Draco quickly moved to Molly’s side. Boldly, he took hold of her wrist and tugged her to the sofa. He sat, pulling her with him. “We don’t have much time,” he told her quietly, meeting her brown eyes - eyes that most of her children shared. They were the same color as Percy's and the twins’. It made Draco's heart ache.
“I got your note,” she told him stiffly. “I’m only here because I assume you know something about what happened at Hogwarts?”
“Yes,” Draco admitted, voice neutral and as factual as he could make it. “After Percy’s first year at Hogwarts, I knew something wasn’t right. I did some digging and discovered he’d been molested and raped at the school.”
Molly gasped, rage and anguish streaking across her expression. “Percy?” she rasped, overcome with emotion. She reached forward and gripped Draco’s hands painfully hard. “Sweet Rhea, no! Not Percy, too!”
“At the time, I didn’t know your family well,” Draco continued, unrelenting. “I was used to taking care of things myself. So Harry and I used our bond to amplify our magic and cast a protection on Percy. It worked. He was never touched again.”
Hot tears filled Molly’s eyes. Draco could see the trails of previous tears on her pale cheeks. He sighed, bowing his head slightly forward in apology. “I didn’t think it was still going on. At least, I didn’t suspect any of your other children of being touched. They didn’t show the signs that Percy had that one summer.”
Looking into her devastated face, he wondering how much she was understanding. “I don’t know if you were told, but during the Winter Solstice, Harry and I accidentally started a ritual that summoned the Winter God. I was pulled into a type of vision quest, I guess, and was unconscious for several days. Pettigrew must have been emboldened by me being away and by the school practically being empty. His molestation grew more violent. He hurt Ron terribly, nearly killing him.”
Molly moaned, but by the end it sounded near a growl. “I was told,” she rasped tightly.
Draco met her glare for glare, sharing her rage. “I knew something was wrong when I woke up. Ron suddenly showed similar signs that I recognized in Percy four years ago. I went looking for evidence and found a stack of photographs. Pettigrew had stopped raping kids after Percy, afraid to get caught. He got off on their sleeping bodies instead. The kids had no idea. They had no memory of it, so it didn't change their behavior. For them, it’s as if it never happened at all, which is a blessing.” Draco squeezed her hands. “They are free of that burden. Do you understand?”
Molly swallowed hard, her expression broken. “Are you saying…?”
“Yes,” Draco confirmed sadly. “Fred and George were used this way in their first year. As was Ron a few times before he was hurt.”
Molly got to her feet. Her body almost seemed made of stone as she held herself in a tight embrace facing the fireplace. “There were photos?” she asked in a hollow whisper.
“Yes,” he confirmed quietly. “Of Harry as well.”
Molly whipped around, eyes wide in horror.
Draco gave her a grim look, rage hardening his features. “Yes. Unlike the twins and the other kids, Harry was hurt like Ron. Fortunately, not as bad, and he doesn’t remember. The damage to his throat was healed by Pomfrey and she told him it was because of a cold, so he didn’t think much of it.”
Molly looked sick. “A cold?”
Draco sneered in disgust. “Apparently Pomfrey doesn’t know how to recognize sexual abuse unless it is in more obvious places.” Gentling his expression and voice, he told her, “I burned the photos of Harry. I didn’t know if you wanted me to do the same for the ones of your boys before you saw them. I made sure no one but me knows the twins and Percy were involved.”
Almost robotically, Molly held out her hand. Draco reached into his hoodie and pulled out the photographs. Dazed, Molly turned her back. Draco listened bleakly to the sound of the photographs dragging against each other as she looked at each one and watched as the mother’s shoulders shook in silent sobs.
With a strangled scream of rage, Molly suddenly flung the bunch into the fireplace. The flames ate them up with a roar. In seconds, they were ash, nothing but a horrible memory seared into their minds. “I demanded to see the body,” she said, back still turned. Her hands were fisted at her sides tight enough to draw blood from her palms. “Pettigrew,” she growled with utter hatred. “We took him in as Scabbers… took care of him for years… as our pet… gave him to our children…”
Suddenly she turned back to face him and she was furious. She looked crazed. “He didn’t suffer nearly enough for what he’s done to my boys!” she screamed before visibly forcing herself under control. Voice a tight, hushed growl, she said, “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t try and contact us until further notice.”
Ted and Andromeda appeared in the doorway to the living room. Ted carried a tea tray while Andromeda carried a plate of biscuits. Molly couldn’t bring herself to speak to either of them. She turned, stiffly grabbed the floo powder, and flung it into the flames.
“The Burrow!” she called and disappeared in a flash of green.
Draco slumped back against the sofa, exhausted.
“What is going on?” Andromeda demanded. She marched into the living room and set the plate she carried down roughly on the coffee table. Hands on hips, she stared hard at Draco. “I want answers.”
Draco glared up at her, scrubbing a hand through his hair in frustration. “What’s your problem?” he growled dangerously. “You’ve had an attitude since we’ve been back.”
Andromeda stood stock-still, fury building in her expression. Ted set the tea down quickly and went to her side, but she pushed him away. Taking a threatening step forward, she glared down at the boy on her sofa. “My problem is ever since you’ve started Hogwarts I’ve been pushed aside and kept in the dark while you and Harry have put yourselves in grave danger! My problem is you tell me only what you want me to know and that’s it! My problem is you locking your door and keeping secrets! It has to stop, Draco! Things with the Headmaster did not have to escalate to the point of risking your lives in a death match! We should have stepped in and put a stop to the old man’s machinations when Harry was first sent to the Hospital Wing with a near-fatal injury! But you insisted you had it handled!
“You are still a child, Draco! Believe it or not, sometimes we do know best and you should listen for once!” Red-faced, eyes glittering with fury, she crossed the few feet separating them and loomed over the boy. “Well, it is going to stop and it is going to stop now! You will tell me everything. Including what is going on with my friend. The truth, Draco. All of it.”
“You think you scare me?” Draco snorted and cast her a dark look through his bangs. His hair had fallen from behind his ears and halfway over his eyes, curtaining his cheeks and jaw.“Fuck off, Andromeda. I’m not in the fucking mood,” he warned.
His whole body was coiled tight, his head tilted slightly toward her but not all the way. It was an unspoken warning that if he acknowledged her fully, there’d be no going back. She had this one chance to back away. Andromeda was too mad to see or hear the warnings. She gasped, outraged. Her hand swung back, but Ted caught her arm before she could take a swing.
“Andromeda! Leave it!” he ordered, angry, but it was too late. Ted watched in horror as Draco jumped to his feet, enraged.
Draco stood only as tall as Andromeda’s shoulders, but he stared up at her with a look of disgust that made her feel two inches tall. “I didn’t make a mistake about the Stone, you stupid bitch. If you had yanked us out of Hogwarts, it’s likely Dumbledore would have fucked it up and lost it. Instead of a pathetic spirit floating around, we’d have a fully resurrected Dark Lord back to kill Harry breathing down our necks! So don’t tell me I got it fucking wrong! Harry’s safe now because of me!” He shoved her in the chest and she didn’t stagger only because Ted still had a hold of her arm. “Yes! We almost lost! I know that better than anyone! But it was still the right fucking call!”
Voice dropping from a yell, Draco’s voice turned dark and ugly. “Harry’s stronger than you or anyone else gives him credit for. He’s not going to just roll over and let anyone fucking kill him, and I sure as hell will do whatever it takes to keep him safe. So if I’m not ‘listening’ to you, you bleating cow, it’s because you haven’t earned it. If I lock our door, it’s because you haven’t proven you can be trusted.”
Suddenly, Draco barked a cruel laugh, his eyes flashing a cold silver. “You want the truth? That’s fucking hilarious coming from you, since you’ve buried your head in the sand from day one. You still can’t fucking admit what you know about Harry and me, about what we do behind that locked door.” He grinned at her horrified expression. “You can’t fucking handle it, Andromeda. So do me a favor. Don’t go begging for more shit you can’t handle. Keep your temper tantrums for Ted over there because I don’t listen to toddlers who scream about getting their way and think everything is everyone else’s fault.”
Draco shoved past both of them angrily and stormed up the stairs. He was so mad he was almost seeing stars. Little Denebola, or Dee as they called her, opened her door and peeked out. The four-year-old’s dark brown curls were tamed into the braid her mother always put in her hair to prevent tangles when she went to sleep. She wore a cute, pale pink long-sleeved nightgown that fell to her ankles. Draco ignored her beseeching blue eyes. He knew if he tried to talk to her it would only go wrong and he’d upset her more.
Harry stood from where he sat at the edge of the bed when Draco stormed in, the door slamming shut behind him. Harry’s hair was wet and dripping some from the shower, making the collar of his sweater damp. “Draco?”
“Fuck,” Draco spat, roughly pushing his hair out of his face. “Put some shoes on,” he ordered.
Harry, wide-eyed, did as instructed.
Draco grabbed his blue coat, held tight to his hoodie’s sleeves, and shoved his arms in it. He roughly pulled his hood out from under the coat and over his head. “Dobby!” he called sharply.
The little elf appeared with a pop. “Ye- …”
“Take us and our shit to Hogsmeade!” Draco snapped, interrupting him.
Dobby, aware of Draco’s mood, moved quickly to stand directly in front of his two charges. He carefully grasped hold of each of their wrists and teleported them all the way to Scotland.
There was a reason people didn’t travel often with House Elves. Their magic was fundamentally different from a wizard’s. Draco and Harry arrived in the middle of the main street of Hogsmeade and immediately collapsed to their knees, Harry groaning and Draco painfully gritting his teeth. The bitter cold actually helped in this case, easing their nausea.
Harry climbed to his feet first and offered his hand to Draco. Draco took it and stood awkwardly, limbs stiff. It felt like his brain was sloshing in his skull. There was something seriously wrong with elf-travel. Dobby was no longer with them, possibly being summoned by Lucius or Narcissa, not that it mattered. Draco didn’t need him for anything else. He grabbed one of the side handles on one of the trunks and it immediately hovered behind him. Harry did the same with the other one and walked at his side.
They didn’t speak as they made their way to the outskirts of the town. By the time they made it to Remus’s cottage, a light snow had begun to fall. Draco’s face and hands were numb with cold and Harry, who wasn’t wearing a coat and was slightly damp at that, was shivering badly.
The wards around the little house recognized them and the door unlocked, letting them in. They left their trunks near the front door and quickly made their way to the living room fireplace. Draco started a fire and sat directly in front of it, pulling Harry between his legs and wrapping himself around his boy, plastering his chest to Harry’s back. The snow that had caught on their hair and clothes quickly melted. After a few minutes, Harry’s shivers began to calm.
“I found out who hurt Percy,” Draco suddenly said.
Harry turned his head and was only able to get a glimpse of Draco’s profile from his periphery. The look on Draco’s face made Harry’s heart ache with empathy. Draco was hurting and Harry wanted more than anything to make it better.
“It was Scabbers the whole time. Wizards can turn into animals. We knew that the first day of Transfiguration,” Draco said angrily, self-derision thick in his voice. “Bastard knew about the snake because he watched us put it on Percy. He knew he’d been caught, but not by adults. His secret was still safe. So he got smarter. He never touched Percy again and didn’t fuck the kids like he had Percy. Instead he made them sleep so they wouldn’t remember, so they couldn’t tell anyone what happened. He did this for three years… All the boys in Gryffindor who are fair and thin. All of them were used when they were First-years. He used Ron and the twins that way a couple times.”
Harry knew where this was going. He felt a surge of - anger sympathy protectiveness. Draco had said ‘all’ the fair, thin boys. That included Harry, but did it also include… “Draco?” He tried to turn around, but Draco held him tighter and wouldn’t let him.
“While I was unconscious, Scabbers got his chance. He touched you in your sleep. He got a little rough. That’s why your throat hurt. He did the same to Ron, but he must have gotten carried away. Ron… Ron was smothered to death. Scabbers was able to revive him, but dying broke the sleep spell. Ron remembered some of it. The trauma of it marked him deeply. It’s why he couldn’t sleep and felt so frightened in the dorm. Percy asked me to help him and that’s when I figured it out.”
Harry insisted on turning, pushing against Draco’s restraining hold. This time Draco gave in. Harry was allowed to turn and he got on his knees, facing the blond. The fire was at his back now and it cast his shadow over Draco, but he could still see the darkness and pain in the blond’s eyes.
“I’m sorry, Harry. I should have put more effort into finding out who hurt Percy all those years ago. I should never have left you so unprotected.”
Harry shook his head and cupped Draco’s face. “I was still protected,” he argued softly - love gratitude. “He didn’t kill me. He wouldn’t dare. And I’m sorry, too. I know the signs. Maybe not as well as you, but I know. I should have realized Ron had been hurt that way. That we weren’t safe and to get help. I even thought his panic attack reminded me of your flashbacks, but I still didn’t realize.”
“You couldn’t have known,” Draco denied roughly. “It’s my job to protect you and I failed.”
“You killed him,” Harry stated without any doubt, green eyes fierce.
Draco felt a flash of fierce protectiveness and yanked Harry into a tight hug. “He’s dead,” he growled into his boy’s damp hair. “He’ll never hurt you or anyone else ever again.”
Harry smiled into Draco’s chest. “Then you didn’t fail. I’m here. I’m safe. With you.”
Draco squeezed his eyes shut for a minute, eyes burning with tears. He didn’t deserve Harry’s unconditional love or forgiveness. He really didn’t. * Thank you, Harry, * he said, words resonating with soul-deep gratitude.
“I love you, Draco,” Harry answered, wrapping his arms around the blond’s waist.
Draco was amazing! He never let anything stop him from doing what needed to be done, but Harry didn’t want him to be alone anymore. Draco had always taken care of him and he always would, but Harry wanted to be there at his side. He didn’t want Draco to bear the consequences alone. It wasn’t fair! It was for both of them and they should face it together! The vision in the mirror came back to him. Of belonging completely to Draco, but also standing strong and powerful at his side. A power to be feared. He didn’t know how to ask for what he wanted. He didn’t have the words, but he had to try!
Lifting his face from Draco’s hoodie, he looked up into the blond’s eyes. “Help me get stronger, Draco. I want to be strong for you,” he pleaded, eyes burning with desperate desire. “I want to help you, Draco. Please? I want to be useful!” Suddenly he realized that he was crying. Because wasn’t he asking for the impossible? Wasn’t he putting another burden on Draco’s shoulders?
“Shhh,” Draco soothed as the bond grew tumultuous. He pulled Harry in, cradling him against his shoulder and rocking slightly. “I’ve got you. It’s going to be okay, Harry. I hear you. I know what you want. We’ll make it happen together, okay? I promise. You’re going to be a force to be reckoned with. My right-hand. My lover. You’ll be glorious, Harry. I swear it,” he vowed fiercely.
Harry went limp, giving himself over to Draco. He felt his heartbeat calm, his tears dry. If Draco promised, then it would be true. Harry had no idea how it would be possible, but he had perfect faith in Draco. “Yes,” he breathed reverently. “I’m yours.”
Draco sucked in a delighted breath and bent his head to bite at the black collar around Harry’s throat. His teeth pinched the skin underneath, likely causing it to bruise. * Yes… Mine…* His words rumbled through Harry’s mind like thunder.
“Yours,” Harry repeated - joy submission peace. “Forever.”
Chapter end.
A/N: Please let me know your thoughts! I truly value your insight and opinions. I want this story to be the best it can be.
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Freedom Bound in Chains