CHAINS OF EARTH - CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Apr. 6th, 2010 09:23 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dysonrulesOMG IT'S ALMOST FINISHED! *FLAILS* ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
alaana_fair rocks! :D
Miss the beginning? Start here: PROLOGUE
Chapter Fifteen
Of what use were wings
to a man fast bound in chains of iron?
- Adelbert von Chamisso
Harry jerked awake, spluttering and blinking water from his eyes. He was disoriented for only a moment before his training kicked in and he froze, moving nothing but his eyes as he took in his surroundings.
The first thing he saw was not Goyle, who dropped a wooden bucket on the floor after having apparently poured the contents over Harry’s head, but Draco. Ginny had just finished binding Draco to a chair near the wall, facing Harry, who inwardly cringed at the sight of Draco’s wings, bound down and bent awkwardly beneath him in the chair. Harry knew how sensitive they were—Draco had to be in pain.
His next thought was to wonder how Draco had gotten here—and where here was.
“The mighty hero wakes up,” Goyle said with a sneer. “I haven’t been impressed with you so far, Potter. I guess the stories about you defeating the Dark Lord from sheer luck were true. Too bad your luck has run out, yeah?”
Harry sat up, blinking the droplets from his eyes. He didn’t get far. Metal shackles bound his wrists, linked together with a section of heavy chain that ran through a ring on the floor. He could kneel, but not rise. Harry forced himself to ignore Draco and glare at Goyle.
“What do you want?” he demanded. “Ginny, why are you doing this?”
“We ask the questions here, Potter,” Goyle said and took a menacing step closer, as if hoping to make Harry flinch. He didn’t, although the motion seemed to trigger awareness of each ache and pain in his body—apparently they had had a bit of fun with him while he had been unconscious, judging by the sudden agony in his ribs, the ache in his jaw, and the awareness that it wasn’t just water dripping into his right eye, but something stickier. His head throbbed.
Goyle dropped to one knee and gripped his chin with one meaty hand before squeezing. “Open wide, Potter,” he said.
Harry fought, spying the potion vial in Goyle’s other hand. He had no idea what it was, but he kneow that allowing Gregory Goyle to give him anything at all was a very bad idea.
Goyle growled and squeezed harder. “Hold him still!” he snapped.
Ginny cast a spell and Harry was suddenly immobile. Goyle forced the potion past his lips and scraped the glass over his tightly clenched teeth until he reached the hinge of his jaw. The liquid poured out, most of it pooling in Harry’s cheek, but quite a lot of it trickled down his throat. He exhaled sharply, recognizing the taste instantly. Veritaserum.
Goyle shook him roughly by the face, sending even more of the insidious potion down Harry’s throat, despite his effort not to breathe. He knew it was already too late. It only took a couple of drops and what he had absorbed through his mouth was already working its way through his bloodstream. Fuck.
Goyle released him and moved away as Ginny cancelled the spell. Harry spat the remainder of the potion and stared venomously at her.
She pouted. “Now, don’t look at me that way, Harry. We all know how much you like your little secrets.”
Harry glanced at Draco and the small movement seemed to turn Ginny’s attention that direction. Harry quickly checked his bonds, already feeling the leaden heat of the Veritaserum as it seemed to travel sluggishly through his veins. He blinked as his vision blurred and a cold sweat broke out on his brow. He hated the side effects of Veritaserum.
“How did you find us, Malfoy?” Ginny asked casually.
Harry’s shackles had been magically welded on—they would not be easily broken—and the chain looked strong enough to hold a hippogriff. Harry looked at Draco helplessly.
Draco shrugged. “I tracked him.”
Harry’s gaze sharpened.
“Tracked him how?” Ginny asked.
“It seems to be a benefit of these wings you gave me. I wanted to ask him a question about my case, so I followed his magical signature. He seems to have solved it.”
Ginny’s eyes narrowed while Harry’s mind spun. Could it be true? Had he and Draco forged some sort of bond enhanced by Draco’s new abilities, or was that simply wishful thinking on Harry’s part?
“We will see,” Ginny said and waved at Goyle, who stepped up and produced another vial from his robes. Draco did not bother to struggle, apparently knowing they would give him the same treatment and force him to drink, regardless. Harry felt sicker, watching the process. Had they given Draco Veritaserum, as well, or something more dangerous?
“Why, Greg?” Draco asked.
Goyle sneered. “Why do you think, Draco, you selfish prick. Because you killed Vince. You and fucking Potter.”
Harry knew he mirrored Draco’s look of outrage. “Vince set the damned fire himself!”
“We were there because of you!” Goyle burst out.
“That’s a lie,” Harry snapped, remembering how Draco’s former minions had turned on him just before the Fiendfyre incident. They might have followed Draco into the school, but their agenda had been their own.
“Some fucking Saviour you are, Potter!” Goyle bellowed angrily. “You save only the ones you want to, yeah? You hated Draco and yet you saved his bloody life! Why?”
“Because Draco was closer!” Harry yelled back, wincing at the truth of it, even though he had not meant to speak at all.
Draco laughed aloud and it sounded full of genuine amusement. “Greg, you went along with this elaborate plot because Vince nearly killed us all and Potter saved me instead of him? Honestly? Do you realize how idiotic that sounds?”
Goyle’s fists clenched. “You always thought I was stupid, didn’t you, Draco?” he asked.
“Yes,” Draco replied in a whisper. His expression was horrified.
“Salazar, how I hate you,” Goyle growled.
“I’m sorry,” Draco said and Harry’s heart wrenched at the pain revealed by the two short words. “I’ve tried to make it up to you.”
“By tossing your money at me?” Goyle yelled. “You think I want anything of yours? What did you lose in the fucking war, Draco? Nothing! Your father is in Azkaban, but he’s still alive! You have your home and your friends and both your parents! You mum does not sit like a statue and stare out the window waiting for your dead father to come home! You didn’t have to get a job at the fucking Ministry to keep a roof over your head and you don’t have to go to work every day and watch them spit on you and call you Death Eater scum and send complaint letters about how you shouldn’t be allowed to work around ‘decent folk’!” Goyle’s face was red and blotched and he was fairly ranting his words by the end. Draco visage was a mask of shock and even Harry felt a burst of regret for not considering how difficult it would be for the children of Death Eaters to regain some semblance of a normal life.
Goyle’s voice returned to a more normal level. “So, yeah, Draco, every time I see you it reminds me what I lost and I hate you a little more every day.”
Draco only swallowed and nodded. Harry could see the devastation he tried so well to hide, visible only in the tightness around his eyes and the set of his mouth. His heart ached and he longed to tell him it wasn’t his fault, that the war made things hard for everyone, but Draco only raised his chin and stared at Ginny. “And what’s your problem?”
Ginny shrugged. “I hate your father. But he’s not around to avenge myself on, now is he? Besides, doing that to you might be the best revenge of all. Such a noble pureblood as Lucius Malfoy won’t be overjoyed to have a… creature for a son, will he?” She gestured with her wand at Draco’s wings.
“That was years ago, Ginny!” Harry said, amazed that she could hold onto her animosity for so long.
“I was a child!” she snarled, turning on him. “He arranged for me to be possessed by his precious Dark Lord when I was eleven years old! Do you know how long I’ve waited to repay him for that?” Her eyes flashed. “And you and the others smuggled him away to safety in Azkaban. He should be tortured to death! The dementor’s kiss is too good for him!” Ginny’s breath caught in a sob and she angrily brushed away tears. “You don’t know what it was like.”
Harry nodded. “Yeah, Gin. Yeah, I do.”
She strode forward and knelt before him. One hand reached out to caress his face. He did not lean into it as he once would have. It seemed a lifetime ago that his feelings for her ran deeper than the surface. “I know, Harry,” she said softly. “It’s why we were meant to be together. It’s fate, don’t you see?” She waited while the No fought to the surface of Harry’s mind, pulled forward by the Veritaserum in response to her question. She smiled and asked, “Are you really gay, Harry?”
Her first question might have been rhetorical; this one was not. “Yes,” he said flatly.
She recoiled and her eyes flashed. He had seen rage on her face enough times to recognize it instantly. “How?” she demanded. “How did it happen?”
Harry felt a curious sensation as the Veritaserum attempted to force him to reply to a question that had no answer. “There is no how! It’s who I am! How are you good at Quidditch and how is Hermione so smart and Draco so—” He forced his jaw shut with effort, cursing the potion as she snatched onto his last words.
“Draco, is it now? You seem very interested in his case, Harry. Or is it Draco you are interested in?”
Fuck. “Yes,” he answered.
Her upper lip curled and her hand tightened on her wand as she stared at him in disbelief. “You can’t be serious. He’s a freak! Look at him!”
Harry did. Draco’s hair was a wild mess, something that probably would have horrified the blond under other circumstances. The upper feathers of his wings stood up, ruffled as a likely result of Draco’s state of mind. His pale eyes were intently fixed on Harry and his lips were set in a thin line. Even bruised and rumpled and with a bloody gash on his chin, he was the most beautiful sight Harry had ever seen. His heart sank as he realized it was the worst possible time to acknowledge it.
“He’s not even human now, Harry. He’s a monster! He’s an atrocity!”
“No. He isn’t,” Harry replied, eyes on Draco’s. He thought he detected surprise there and realized, despite everything, that Draco still thought of himself as something less than human. If they survived, Harry vowed to change that. “He’s beautiful.”
She barked a harsh laugh. “Merlin, are all shirtlifters as desperate as you?” Her tone was scathing. Goyle chuckled.
“I don’t know,” he said, forced to reply to the ridiculous utterance.
“Do you want to fuck him, Harry?” Ginny asked in a purring tone.
Harry glared at her. “Yes,” he hissed.
She threw her head back and laughed before turning to Goyle. “Can you believe it? Give his childhood enemy a pair of wings and suddenly he wants to fuck it. I think you’re the freak, Harry.”
Goyle nodded and his lip curled. “We have to believe it. He’s under Veritaserum. Are you a poof, too, Draco?”
Harry’s breath caught and his fingers began to slide along the links of the chain, searching for a weakness. Perhaps he could attempt a wandless spell and break at least one link…?
“That depends on what you mean by poof, Greg,” Draco said dryly. Harry glanced at him in surprise.
“Do you want to fuck blokes?” Goyle asked angrily.
“Of course,” Draco replied smoothly. “Sex is sex. You’re missing out if you stick to only one sort, Greg. You should expand your horizons.”
“That’s sick,” Goyle spat.
“Do you want to fuck Harry?” Ginny asked.
“Of course,” Draco said. “Who wouldn’t want to fuck the Saviour?”
Harry winced, trying not to feel the sting of the words. He had hoped Draco’s feelings were somewhat deeper. “Do these questions have any purpose?” he asked.
Ginny looked at him and her eyes narrowed. “They have been very enlightening, haven’t they, Harry? It’s amazing how much truth a single person can hide. Malfoy, are you really able to track Harry’s magical signature?”
Draco was silent for a long time and then he uttered a single, “No.”
Ginny looked triumphant. “Then how did you find us?”
“I didn’t,” Draco replied.
Harry burst out laughing. He couldn’t help it. His admiration for Draco was growing exponentially. Draco wasn’t fighting the Veristaserum, he was simply giving truthful answers that were not quite what Ginny sought. She would drill down to the correct answer, eventually, but Draco would make it hard on her. Draco met his gaze and his eyes glinted with merriment. Despite the gravity of their situation, he felt a moment of pure joy.
“Face it, Ginny, he’s smarter than you,” Harry said.
Her face turned ugly. “You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to Crucio you in the past six months,” she snarled.
“I’ll do it,” Goyle said and cast.
~~ O ~~
Draco caught his breath when the Cruciatus Curse hit Potter. It sent him to the ground instantly, teeth and fists clenched tightly. He writhed, unable to even scream through the agony obvious in every line of his body.
His former girlfriend watched in apparent satisfaction and Greg’s face wore a wicked smile. His eyes lit up in delight, something Draco hadn’t seen in a very long time. He cursed himself for not having seen—or at least sensed—Greg’s duplicity.
Potter’s eyes were wild, though Draco knew he could see nothing but white-hot pain. “Leave him be!” he shouted, straining at his bonds.
“Am I hurting your boyfriend, Draco?” Greg asked in a childish lilt.
Draco glared. He didn’t know if Potter was his boyfriend, but he was certainly something, especially after his truthful admission that he didn’t think Draco was a monster. In hindsight, Draco supposed it should have been obvious, coming from Potter.
“Stop it, Greg!”
“I don’t take orders from you anymore, Draco!” Greg yelled and increased the intensity of the Curse.
Draco muttered an epithet, took a deep breath, and set about breaking his bonds. The ropes were tight, especially around his upper arms, which was a good thing in this case. He flexed his muscles and tried to force his arms away from his sides, using his wings as best he could to aid his effort, even though it hurt like the bloody devil.
Draco felt more than heard the snapping of fibres, a few at a time, and then more. He redoubled his effort and the ropes dug into his skin painfully. He ignored it, knowing it was nothing next to what Potter felt under the Crucio. He relaxed and kept his features carefully blank but for the stare of purest rage fixed on Greg. A thrill of victory shot through him as he felt some play in the stretched ropes. He shifted in his seat and moved his wings, trying to ease them upward.
Greg released the spell on Potter just as Draco’s ropes loosened even more, giving him enough play to move his hands.
“How d’you like that, Potter?” Greg snarled with an evil laugh. “Want some more?”
Potter gasped for air—sobbing for breath through lungs that Draco knew felt full of hot cinders. It was almost impossible to breathe under a Cruciatus. The pain was too intense.
“Doesn’t look so mighty now, does he?” Greg asked.
“He seems pretty helpless without his Expelliarmus,” Ginny commented.
Draco managed to wrap his fingers around the lowest ropes and pulled, straining his muscles once more. It was much more effective to stretch a single section of it, and he methodically worked his way upward, yanking and stretching with as much force as he could muster.
Potter raised his head and glared balefully at Greg, who retaliated by hitting him with the Curse once more. Draco would have been glad for the distraction if his heart wasn’t screaming in sympathetic rage with every writhing twitch of Harry’s limbs.
Finally, Draco was able to wriggle his wings nearly free of the ropes, giving them even greater play. He wriggled, almost frantic, and then Ginny Weasley turned around to look at him. She made a surprised moue with her mouth and lifted her wand, so Draco used every bit of strength he possessed to wrench his wings free. Whatever spell she used missed as Draco snapped into flight, taking both chair and ropes with him. He brushed the ceiling and then let himself fall, bracing himself as he hit the ground hard. The chair legs buckled and the seat split in half. The ropes fell away as Draco rose again, spinning as he did so to avoid Weasley’s spells.
Her screams seemed to penetrate Greg’s trance—induced by his torture of Potter—and he looked up just in time to watch Draco snatch up a bit of the broken chair and send it rocketing toward him. The broken wood hit Greg in the forehead and sent him to the floor.
“Greg!” Weasley screamed. She was distracted for only a moment, but it was enough. Draco flew at her and knocked her arse over teakettle. Her head cracked against the stone floor and he paused long enough to hope the blow had killed her before he dropped to the floor and rushed over to cradle Potter. Tremors still shook his body and his eyes were glazed with pain, but he smiled wryly at Draco.
“You’re a useful bloke to have around,” Potter said. “I think I’ll keep you.” The chains clinked and pulled taut as his hand found the edge of one wing “I don’t think you’re a freak or a monster, Draco. I think you’re beautiful.”
Draco’s arms tightened around him and he forced a chuckle through an odd tightness in his throat. “Remind me to keep you away from Veritaserum. It apparently brings out your inner Hufflepuff.”
Potter only sighed against his neck, and Draco eased him back down. “We need to get these chains off of you. Hold on.” Draco hurried over to Weasley, tossed her wand across the room, and went through her robes to find his. She didn’t move. Draco glanced at Greg, who was still in a heap near the far wall. There was no sign of Potter’s wand, so they had either stashed it somewhere or else Greg had it.
Wand in hand, he returned to Potter and carefully cut through the shackle on Potter’s right wrist. The metal dropped away, leaving a harsh-looking red welt where Potter had wrenched at his bonds. Draco looked at him sympathetically. Potter was bloody and bruised and still looked perfectly wonderful. Draco smiled at him and then cried out and fell to the floor as the too-familiar effects of a Stunner hit him.
He struggled to stay conscious and reached for his wand, which had fallen from his fingers and lay on the stone a few inches away.
“Molly?” Harry asked in a disbelieving tone.
~~ CHAPTER SIXTEEN ~~
alaana_fair rocks! :DMiss the beginning? Start here: PROLOGUE
Chapter Fifteen
Of what use were wings
to a man fast bound in chains of iron?
- Adelbert von Chamisso
Harry jerked awake, spluttering and blinking water from his eyes. He was disoriented for only a moment before his training kicked in and he froze, moving nothing but his eyes as he took in his surroundings.
The first thing he saw was not Goyle, who dropped a wooden bucket on the floor after having apparently poured the contents over Harry’s head, but Draco. Ginny had just finished binding Draco to a chair near the wall, facing Harry, who inwardly cringed at the sight of Draco’s wings, bound down and bent awkwardly beneath him in the chair. Harry knew how sensitive they were—Draco had to be in pain.
His next thought was to wonder how Draco had gotten here—and where here was.
“The mighty hero wakes up,” Goyle said with a sneer. “I haven’t been impressed with you so far, Potter. I guess the stories about you defeating the Dark Lord from sheer luck were true. Too bad your luck has run out, yeah?”
Harry sat up, blinking the droplets from his eyes. He didn’t get far. Metal shackles bound his wrists, linked together with a section of heavy chain that ran through a ring on the floor. He could kneel, but not rise. Harry forced himself to ignore Draco and glare at Goyle.
“What do you want?” he demanded. “Ginny, why are you doing this?”
“We ask the questions here, Potter,” Goyle said and took a menacing step closer, as if hoping to make Harry flinch. He didn’t, although the motion seemed to trigger awareness of each ache and pain in his body—apparently they had had a bit of fun with him while he had been unconscious, judging by the sudden agony in his ribs, the ache in his jaw, and the awareness that it wasn’t just water dripping into his right eye, but something stickier. His head throbbed.
Goyle dropped to one knee and gripped his chin with one meaty hand before squeezing. “Open wide, Potter,” he said.
Harry fought, spying the potion vial in Goyle’s other hand. He had no idea what it was, but he kneow that allowing Gregory Goyle to give him anything at all was a very bad idea.
Goyle growled and squeezed harder. “Hold him still!” he snapped.
Ginny cast a spell and Harry was suddenly immobile. Goyle forced the potion past his lips and scraped the glass over his tightly clenched teeth until he reached the hinge of his jaw. The liquid poured out, most of it pooling in Harry’s cheek, but quite a lot of it trickled down his throat. He exhaled sharply, recognizing the taste instantly. Veritaserum.
Goyle shook him roughly by the face, sending even more of the insidious potion down Harry’s throat, despite his effort not to breathe. He knew it was already too late. It only took a couple of drops and what he had absorbed through his mouth was already working its way through his bloodstream. Fuck.
Goyle released him and moved away as Ginny cancelled the spell. Harry spat the remainder of the potion and stared venomously at her.
She pouted. “Now, don’t look at me that way, Harry. We all know how much you like your little secrets.”
Harry glanced at Draco and the small movement seemed to turn Ginny’s attention that direction. Harry quickly checked his bonds, already feeling the leaden heat of the Veritaserum as it seemed to travel sluggishly through his veins. He blinked as his vision blurred and a cold sweat broke out on his brow. He hated the side effects of Veritaserum.
“How did you find us, Malfoy?” Ginny asked casually.
Harry’s shackles had been magically welded on—they would not be easily broken—and the chain looked strong enough to hold a hippogriff. Harry looked at Draco helplessly.
Draco shrugged. “I tracked him.”
Harry’s gaze sharpened.
“Tracked him how?” Ginny asked.
“It seems to be a benefit of these wings you gave me. I wanted to ask him a question about my case, so I followed his magical signature. He seems to have solved it.”
Ginny’s eyes narrowed while Harry’s mind spun. Could it be true? Had he and Draco forged some sort of bond enhanced by Draco’s new abilities, or was that simply wishful thinking on Harry’s part?
“We will see,” Ginny said and waved at Goyle, who stepped up and produced another vial from his robes. Draco did not bother to struggle, apparently knowing they would give him the same treatment and force him to drink, regardless. Harry felt sicker, watching the process. Had they given Draco Veritaserum, as well, or something more dangerous?
“Why, Greg?” Draco asked.
Goyle sneered. “Why do you think, Draco, you selfish prick. Because you killed Vince. You and fucking Potter.”
Harry knew he mirrored Draco’s look of outrage. “Vince set the damned fire himself!”
“We were there because of you!” Goyle burst out.
“That’s a lie,” Harry snapped, remembering how Draco’s former minions had turned on him just before the Fiendfyre incident. They might have followed Draco into the school, but their agenda had been their own.
“Some fucking Saviour you are, Potter!” Goyle bellowed angrily. “You save only the ones you want to, yeah? You hated Draco and yet you saved his bloody life! Why?”
“Because Draco was closer!” Harry yelled back, wincing at the truth of it, even though he had not meant to speak at all.
Draco laughed aloud and it sounded full of genuine amusement. “Greg, you went along with this elaborate plot because Vince nearly killed us all and Potter saved me instead of him? Honestly? Do you realize how idiotic that sounds?”
Goyle’s fists clenched. “You always thought I was stupid, didn’t you, Draco?” he asked.
“Yes,” Draco replied in a whisper. His expression was horrified.
“Salazar, how I hate you,” Goyle growled.
“I’m sorry,” Draco said and Harry’s heart wrenched at the pain revealed by the two short words. “I’ve tried to make it up to you.”
“By tossing your money at me?” Goyle yelled. “You think I want anything of yours? What did you lose in the fucking war, Draco? Nothing! Your father is in Azkaban, but he’s still alive! You have your home and your friends and both your parents! You mum does not sit like a statue and stare out the window waiting for your dead father to come home! You didn’t have to get a job at the fucking Ministry to keep a roof over your head and you don’t have to go to work every day and watch them spit on you and call you Death Eater scum and send complaint letters about how you shouldn’t be allowed to work around ‘decent folk’!” Goyle’s face was red and blotched and he was fairly ranting his words by the end. Draco visage was a mask of shock and even Harry felt a burst of regret for not considering how difficult it would be for the children of Death Eaters to regain some semblance of a normal life.
Goyle’s voice returned to a more normal level. “So, yeah, Draco, every time I see you it reminds me what I lost and I hate you a little more every day.”
Draco only swallowed and nodded. Harry could see the devastation he tried so well to hide, visible only in the tightness around his eyes and the set of his mouth. His heart ached and he longed to tell him it wasn’t his fault, that the war made things hard for everyone, but Draco only raised his chin and stared at Ginny. “And what’s your problem?”
Ginny shrugged. “I hate your father. But he’s not around to avenge myself on, now is he? Besides, doing that to you might be the best revenge of all. Such a noble pureblood as Lucius Malfoy won’t be overjoyed to have a… creature for a son, will he?” She gestured with her wand at Draco’s wings.
“That was years ago, Ginny!” Harry said, amazed that she could hold onto her animosity for so long.
“I was a child!” she snarled, turning on him. “He arranged for me to be possessed by his precious Dark Lord when I was eleven years old! Do you know how long I’ve waited to repay him for that?” Her eyes flashed. “And you and the others smuggled him away to safety in Azkaban. He should be tortured to death! The dementor’s kiss is too good for him!” Ginny’s breath caught in a sob and she angrily brushed away tears. “You don’t know what it was like.”
Harry nodded. “Yeah, Gin. Yeah, I do.”
She strode forward and knelt before him. One hand reached out to caress his face. He did not lean into it as he once would have. It seemed a lifetime ago that his feelings for her ran deeper than the surface. “I know, Harry,” she said softly. “It’s why we were meant to be together. It’s fate, don’t you see?” She waited while the No fought to the surface of Harry’s mind, pulled forward by the Veritaserum in response to her question. She smiled and asked, “Are you really gay, Harry?”
Her first question might have been rhetorical; this one was not. “Yes,” he said flatly.
She recoiled and her eyes flashed. He had seen rage on her face enough times to recognize it instantly. “How?” she demanded. “How did it happen?”
Harry felt a curious sensation as the Veritaserum attempted to force him to reply to a question that had no answer. “There is no how! It’s who I am! How are you good at Quidditch and how is Hermione so smart and Draco so—” He forced his jaw shut with effort, cursing the potion as she snatched onto his last words.
“Draco, is it now? You seem very interested in his case, Harry. Or is it Draco you are interested in?”
Fuck. “Yes,” he answered.
Her upper lip curled and her hand tightened on her wand as she stared at him in disbelief. “You can’t be serious. He’s a freak! Look at him!”
Harry did. Draco’s hair was a wild mess, something that probably would have horrified the blond under other circumstances. The upper feathers of his wings stood up, ruffled as a likely result of Draco’s state of mind. His pale eyes were intently fixed on Harry and his lips were set in a thin line. Even bruised and rumpled and with a bloody gash on his chin, he was the most beautiful sight Harry had ever seen. His heart sank as he realized it was the worst possible time to acknowledge it.
“He’s not even human now, Harry. He’s a monster! He’s an atrocity!”
“No. He isn’t,” Harry replied, eyes on Draco’s. He thought he detected surprise there and realized, despite everything, that Draco still thought of himself as something less than human. If they survived, Harry vowed to change that. “He’s beautiful.”
She barked a harsh laugh. “Merlin, are all shirtlifters as desperate as you?” Her tone was scathing. Goyle chuckled.
“I don’t know,” he said, forced to reply to the ridiculous utterance.
“Do you want to fuck him, Harry?” Ginny asked in a purring tone.
Harry glared at her. “Yes,” he hissed.
She threw her head back and laughed before turning to Goyle. “Can you believe it? Give his childhood enemy a pair of wings and suddenly he wants to fuck it. I think you’re the freak, Harry.”
Goyle nodded and his lip curled. “We have to believe it. He’s under Veritaserum. Are you a poof, too, Draco?”
Harry’s breath caught and his fingers began to slide along the links of the chain, searching for a weakness. Perhaps he could attempt a wandless spell and break at least one link…?
“That depends on what you mean by poof, Greg,” Draco said dryly. Harry glanced at him in surprise.
“Do you want to fuck blokes?” Goyle asked angrily.
“Of course,” Draco replied smoothly. “Sex is sex. You’re missing out if you stick to only one sort, Greg. You should expand your horizons.”
“That’s sick,” Goyle spat.
“Do you want to fuck Harry?” Ginny asked.
“Of course,” Draco said. “Who wouldn’t want to fuck the Saviour?”
Harry winced, trying not to feel the sting of the words. He had hoped Draco’s feelings were somewhat deeper. “Do these questions have any purpose?” he asked.
Ginny looked at him and her eyes narrowed. “They have been very enlightening, haven’t they, Harry? It’s amazing how much truth a single person can hide. Malfoy, are you really able to track Harry’s magical signature?”
Draco was silent for a long time and then he uttered a single, “No.”
Ginny looked triumphant. “Then how did you find us?”
“I didn’t,” Draco replied.
Harry burst out laughing. He couldn’t help it. His admiration for Draco was growing exponentially. Draco wasn’t fighting the Veristaserum, he was simply giving truthful answers that were not quite what Ginny sought. She would drill down to the correct answer, eventually, but Draco would make it hard on her. Draco met his gaze and his eyes glinted with merriment. Despite the gravity of their situation, he felt a moment of pure joy.
“Face it, Ginny, he’s smarter than you,” Harry said.
Her face turned ugly. “You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to Crucio you in the past six months,” she snarled.
“I’ll do it,” Goyle said and cast.
Draco caught his breath when the Cruciatus Curse hit Potter. It sent him to the ground instantly, teeth and fists clenched tightly. He writhed, unable to even scream through the agony obvious in every line of his body.
His former girlfriend watched in apparent satisfaction and Greg’s face wore a wicked smile. His eyes lit up in delight, something Draco hadn’t seen in a very long time. He cursed himself for not having seen—or at least sensed—Greg’s duplicity.
Potter’s eyes were wild, though Draco knew he could see nothing but white-hot pain. “Leave him be!” he shouted, straining at his bonds.
“Am I hurting your boyfriend, Draco?” Greg asked in a childish lilt.
Draco glared. He didn’t know if Potter was his boyfriend, but he was certainly something, especially after his truthful admission that he didn’t think Draco was a monster. In hindsight, Draco supposed it should have been obvious, coming from Potter.
“Stop it, Greg!”
“I don’t take orders from you anymore, Draco!” Greg yelled and increased the intensity of the Curse.
Draco muttered an epithet, took a deep breath, and set about breaking his bonds. The ropes were tight, especially around his upper arms, which was a good thing in this case. He flexed his muscles and tried to force his arms away from his sides, using his wings as best he could to aid his effort, even though it hurt like the bloody devil.
Draco felt more than heard the snapping of fibres, a few at a time, and then more. He redoubled his effort and the ropes dug into his skin painfully. He ignored it, knowing it was nothing next to what Potter felt under the Crucio. He relaxed and kept his features carefully blank but for the stare of purest rage fixed on Greg. A thrill of victory shot through him as he felt some play in the stretched ropes. He shifted in his seat and moved his wings, trying to ease them upward.
Greg released the spell on Potter just as Draco’s ropes loosened even more, giving him enough play to move his hands.
“How d’you like that, Potter?” Greg snarled with an evil laugh. “Want some more?”
Potter gasped for air—sobbing for breath through lungs that Draco knew felt full of hot cinders. It was almost impossible to breathe under a Cruciatus. The pain was too intense.
“Doesn’t look so mighty now, does he?” Greg asked.
“He seems pretty helpless without his Expelliarmus,” Ginny commented.
Draco managed to wrap his fingers around the lowest ropes and pulled, straining his muscles once more. It was much more effective to stretch a single section of it, and he methodically worked his way upward, yanking and stretching with as much force as he could muster.
Potter raised his head and glared balefully at Greg, who retaliated by hitting him with the Curse once more. Draco would have been glad for the distraction if his heart wasn’t screaming in sympathetic rage with every writhing twitch of Harry’s limbs.
Finally, Draco was able to wriggle his wings nearly free of the ropes, giving them even greater play. He wriggled, almost frantic, and then Ginny Weasley turned around to look at him. She made a surprised moue with her mouth and lifted her wand, so Draco used every bit of strength he possessed to wrench his wings free. Whatever spell she used missed as Draco snapped into flight, taking both chair and ropes with him. He brushed the ceiling and then let himself fall, bracing himself as he hit the ground hard. The chair legs buckled and the seat split in half. The ropes fell away as Draco rose again, spinning as he did so to avoid Weasley’s spells.
Her screams seemed to penetrate Greg’s trance—induced by his torture of Potter—and he looked up just in time to watch Draco snatch up a bit of the broken chair and send it rocketing toward him. The broken wood hit Greg in the forehead and sent him to the floor.
“Greg!” Weasley screamed. She was distracted for only a moment, but it was enough. Draco flew at her and knocked her arse over teakettle. Her head cracked against the stone floor and he paused long enough to hope the blow had killed her before he dropped to the floor and rushed over to cradle Potter. Tremors still shook his body and his eyes were glazed with pain, but he smiled wryly at Draco.
“You’re a useful bloke to have around,” Potter said. “I think I’ll keep you.” The chains clinked and pulled taut as his hand found the edge of one wing “I don’t think you’re a freak or a monster, Draco. I think you’re beautiful.”
Draco’s arms tightened around him and he forced a chuckle through an odd tightness in his throat. “Remind me to keep you away from Veritaserum. It apparently brings out your inner Hufflepuff.”
Potter only sighed against his neck, and Draco eased him back down. “We need to get these chains off of you. Hold on.” Draco hurried over to Weasley, tossed her wand across the room, and went through her robes to find his. She didn’t move. Draco glanced at Greg, who was still in a heap near the far wall. There was no sign of Potter’s wand, so they had either stashed it somewhere or else Greg had it.
Wand in hand, he returned to Potter and carefully cut through the shackle on Potter’s right wrist. The metal dropped away, leaving a harsh-looking red welt where Potter had wrenched at his bonds. Draco looked at him sympathetically. Potter was bloody and bruised and still looked perfectly wonderful. Draco smiled at him and then cried out and fell to the floor as the too-familiar effects of a Stunner hit him.
He struggled to stay conscious and reached for his wand, which had fallen from his fingers and lay on the stone a few inches away.
“Molly?” Harry asked in a disbelieving tone.