Duty-Bound

Duty-Bound


Chapter 1: And So It Begins

All Harry could do was merely gape at the stranger standing on the doorstep of his house in Godric's Hollow with the limp blonde hanging in his arms. The stranger narrowed his amethyst eyes and thrust the bleeding man into his arms.

“I believe this belongs to you,” he said in such a toneless voice that Harry didn’t know whether he was being sarcastic or not. The green-eyed man continued to stare wide-eyed at the small, beaten man he hadn’t seen in four years. Blood and grime dirtied platinum blonde strands; filthy tear stains graced the sharp cheeks; perfect lips were chapped and chafed. And all Harry could do was stare. The stranger cleared his throat. “Aren’t you going to invite us in?”

“Who the hell are you?”

“Damien Scott,” the stranger answered smoothly, holding out his hand as if not all concerned with the half-dead rival he had just thrown into his new acquaintance’s arms. “And I believe you are Harry Potter and I believe you already know-“ He nodded towards the small, wounded figure. “is Draco Malfoy.”

“How . . . What . . . You-Dammit! What the hell happened?”

“Hell happened,” the stranger echoed tonelessly. “Aren’t you going to invite us in?”

Harry finally responded to the repeated question and moved aside to let the tall man in. Damien, as the man called himself, stepped inside, looked around the spacious, well decorated foyer for a moment and turned back to Harry and his charge only to find a wand pointed right between his eyes. Said eyes narrowed when they noticed Draco sprawled out on the floor.

“Who are you?” Harry grounded out, slowly for his guest’s benefit. “And what did you do to Malfoy?”

“As I told you before, I am Damien Scott. Draco and I are . . . friends.” Green eyes narrowed into emerald slits at the last word. “I found him like this and I felt the bond between you two, so I brought him here.”

“What happened to him? Did you do this?”

Damien held up his hands in defense, but his voice was starting to take on an annoyed edge, “I found him like this so I brought him to you.”

‘He’s telling the truth,’ Tom informed Harry within his head.

‘How do you know?’

‘Believe me, the Dark Lord knows.’

‘Well, fuck then.’ Harry stopped talking to Tom . . . himself . . . whatever, and lowered his wand. Damien’s multicolored eyebrows rose in question, so the dark-haired man informed him, “I believe you, but I want to hear the words come from him. You will stay until he wakes up and then you both can get the hell out of here. Cissy doesn’t need this shit right now.”

“Cissy?” the stranger inquired, and then his face altered, “Narcissa, Draco’s mother is here? Hmm . . . so that’s how you did it.”

“Did what?” Harry snapped, walking over to the body bleeding all over the rug and lifting the surprisingly lightweight into his arms.

“Oh nothing,” the man replied, showing his first sign of emotion with the slight smile on his face.. He moved to Harry and stroked a finger across Draco’s dirty face. “Why don’t we get him rested, healed, and cleaned up and then we can have a discussion.”

** ** ** ** **

An hour, ten cleaning spells, a half dozen healing spells, a ranting Dark Lord, and the caustic comments of an uninvited house guest later, Harry laid the pale blonde across the only bed in the house save for Narcissa’s; his.

Damien had watched carefully for the past hour as Harry rushed in and out of the room, looking up spells, bringing wet clothes, and clucking like a mother hen over the pale man; careful not to do anything that could possibly hurt the young Malfoy. Occasionally, the young hero would pause in between his tasks to answer a question from Damien---“Yes, I know what I’m doing! The scars will be gone by tomorrow!”---Or to talk to himself---“If I knew what the hell that spell was, Tommy-Boy, wouldn’t you think I’d have used it by now!”---And all the stranger could do was stare as the strange green-eyed man fussed over his charge and wonder why he referred to himself as “Tommy-Boy”.

“Okay,” Harry said finally, when Draco was all patched up and clean. “He should rest for a while. I’m going to take a shower and then you will explain to me what the fuck happened.”

And with the last line, Harry left his bedroom for the adjacent bathroom and slammed the door behind him. When he finished showering, he quickly dried off and wrapped the towel around his waist before heading back into his bedroom. When there, he quickly threw on a clean pair of jeans and avoided look at the pale, tempting, ethereal figure draped across his bed until he heard a soft rustling.

He turned his head just in time to see Draco sit up, the white sheets sliding off his pale smooth torso, and emerald eyes met with silver.

“Harry? Come back to bed, love?”

The voice was low, melodic, and nothing like anything he had ever heard before in his life. He was surprised to see that he had taken a step closer to the bed. “What?”


“Come on, baby. Let’s play for a while,” Draco smiled, his full pink lips managing to be both pouty and tantalizing. He climbed from under the covers and crawled to the end on the bed on his hands and knees, then raised himself up to said knees and began to slide the boxers Harry volunteered to him off his hips.

Green eyes widened. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, Malfoy. Keep your clothes on!”

The blonde merely smiled seductively and continued his one garment striptease, riveting Harry’s eyes to the thin trail of almost translucent hair that led to the place Harry feared, and ached, to see.

“Wow,” came a cool voice from the doorway, causing a dark head to whip in that direction. Harry gave the man a desperate 'help me' look, Damien just leaned against the doorframe and smiled. "He thinks he needs to fuck you."

"Why would he think that?!"

‘Panicky Harry,’ chuckled Tom in background of the hero’s mind.

"Well, he was in Hell," Damien responded bluntly. “And---”

At that moment, it seemed as if Draco had noticed Damien for the first time and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Damien, are you fucking Harry now, too, ‘cause I don't do parties-" Suddenly, he swung his head in the direction of the wall. "And just what are you yelling about? No one asked for your opinion!"

"Okay? What the hell is up with him?" Harry cautiously asks the one man who appeared coherent.

‘He's no different from you,’, Tom chuckled.

‘Shut up, Tommy-Boy.’

Damien's eyebrow quirked up as he walked into the room and climbed across the bed to Draco. Harry felt a fizzle of anger roll through him.

‘And what’s this? Jealousy, Harry? My-my-m---wait! . . . He's blonde. Draco is blonde!'

‘Shut up, Tommy Boy. Shut your big, fat hissing trap!’

'I get it now...you have feelings for the young Malfoy…hmmmmmmmm.'

‘Hmmmm, yourself. I have feelings for no one. Least of all Malfoy.’

'Then why all the blondes harry? Why all the blondes?'

‘Why don't you bite me Tom? Why don't you bite me?’

'I don't have teeth? You care for the young man don't you?'

"Would you stop with that?! I told them to stop pestering me about that blue light special!" Draco announced suddenly, his eyes wide and unseeing.

‘Teeth, humph. I care for no one. Drop it.’ Harry chanced a glance Draco's way and was further angered to see Damien calmly stroking blond hair and murmuring into Draco's ear.

'More jealousy . . .'

‘Maybe a little.’

"No touching the merchandise!! Please help me with these . . ." Draco whined.

"Of course. Top shelf," Damien offered, not missing a beat in Draco’s made up dialog. He kissed Draco’s head, his lips gliding over the blonde's silky locks, and Harry felt his hands clench.

‘Wait, I didn't do that,’, he thought of the random gesture.

'Sure you didn't . . .'

"Perhaps . . ." Draco looked lost. "It's not right . . . not right . . . the pieces don't fit . . . it doesn't work!"

"Make it work. Fit them together. Think about it. Come back to us, Draco," Damien said in that calm, hypnotic voice of his. "Come back to me." At the use of the word "me" Harry felt his jaw lock.

‘I didn't do that, either.’

'He's not talking about pieces Harry . . . He's taking about you.'

"What?" Harry said aloud and loudly, causing two pairs of eyes to fall on him curiously. ‘What?’

"But why am I lost? I'm here but your there . . . I can't get there . . . too far .. . ." the blonde rambled on.

"Shh, Draco," Damien insisted, his words not calming the young man in his arms. He looked up to Harry expectantly and arched his perfect eyebrow in the manner he was obviously good at.

"Will you find me?" Draco asked still looking at the wall.

"Say ‘yes’, Harry," Damien suggested lazily when Harry continued to look clueless.

"But, he's talking to a wall."

Damien shook his head impatiently. "Stop being so daft and help me. He was in Hell for two years. Literal Hell. Probably used for sex. He had to be tortured, certainly. He needs you to help him."

"Sex . . .. I'm good at sex . . . pretty-pretty-pretty . . ." Draco mumbled, his eyes going out of focus. Harry stared back and forth between Damien's emotionless gaze to Draco's blurred one, but only for a moment. He walked to the bed and kneeled at the end, holding his arms out to the smaller man.

"Draco? I found you."

"Pretty-pretty . . ." The blonde smiled a bit and traced a hand down Harry's jaw a moment before his eyes lost focus once again, and he went back to mumbling.

Harry’s skin tingled from the brief contact of Draco’s hand against his face, but he shook the disconcerting feeling off and looked to Damien. "Hell? What are you talking about?"

"You know . . . Fire and brimstone. Hell. Evil people and such."

"It exis---He was . . . there? How---Why?"

"Yes it exists, that’s where he was. How is a good question, because…well…evil people do die and they need to go somewhere.” Damien replied simply, his words sparking hundreds of thoughts through Harry’s mind.

"Draco . . . died? But he's-he's sitting right there!"

"He did not die. He was sent there."

"By who?!" Harry exclaimed.

"Well . . . That is the million dollar question . . . It's more of a force that sent him there."

"A force? So, you're telling me that Draco, here---talking to a wall Draco, here, has been in hell for the last four years? Because of some 'force'?"

"For two years." Damien’s tone seemed bored again, and the dark haired man let out an exasperated sigh.

"Where was he for the other two?"

"In training."

"Training? For what? There's nothing to train for? He's a little late to avenge his father's death with Voldemort. He's dead!"

"Is he?" Damien gave him a knowing look. "Hmm . . . for his powers. He was exceptionally strong, but . . . I wonder . . ."

Harry stared back at the other wizard curiously. Those eerie lilac eyes merely blinked back at him as if in wait, so Harry confirmed, "He's dead. I killed him. About Draco, tell me what he trained for."

"His powers. Were you not listening? Distracted perhaps?"

'Someone knows your secret,' Tom interjected.

‘Shut up, Tom.’

"And what of his powers?" Harry grounded out through tightly clenched teeth.

"Well . . . It’s more so his condition. Haven't you ever noticed how intuitive he is to people’s emotions? Granted when you were younger it was always on your worse days he seemed to be there . . . but didn't you think it odd that he always somehow seem to be beside you when you were having the worst possible time?"

"Stop dicking around!" Harry burst out, the mirror on the wall behind him glowing red before it cracked and ricocheted off the walls; somehow the pieces of glass managing not to cut them into little pieces themselves. "Just tell me what the fuck is up. Stop asking questions to my questions."

"It will help if you answer my questions." Something like a warm wind breezed through the room, a warning that Damien wasn't all he seemed to be.

The dark haired man felt the rush of power and with the help of Tom---more so focusing on Tom's ridiculous cackle rather than on his anger---he calmed himself and met emerald eyes with amethyst. "What about his emotions?"

"Well, he can practically taste them. To be more specific, he senses your emotions. But he knows when you’re lying . . . when you’re sad . . . when you’re . . . er . . . happy,” Damien finished rather redundantly. “Draco can do that with everyone but with you it's easier."

"Why . . . with me?"

"Good question.” The compliment seemed genuine but the smirk on the elder’s face took away from it. “ Well . . . he has a bond with you."

Harry hated Damien's 'good boy' tone, but he also didn't want to see Damien angry, so instead he focused on getting the blonde in his arms to stop reaching into his jeans before carrying on. "Please, explain this bond? Are you talking of him swearing himself to me?"

Damien actually smiled. "Very good.. That’s exactly what I mean. You’re the only thing he is bound to on this world . . . and you’ve made him pledge himself to you. At all costs. He will follow you to the ends of the earth and back. That's how he managed to claw his way out of Hell. But there were some side effects . . . as you can see."

"You mean the blue light special thing? I thought he just came that way," Harry snarled snidely, pulling Draco's hand out of his pants one last time and standing up. He walked to where the mirror once stood and waved his hand once, all the broken glass smoothing back into one solid surface. He cursed low, under his breath before turning back to the steady lilac gaze. "You make it sound as if I own him. Like he's completely helpless . . . How do you know all of these things?"

"How I came about knowing the things I do is no concern of yours. I am old and I have eyes. And at this point in time Draco is helpless and in a sense you do own him."

"No, no, no, no, you're wrong. I don't own him. I ca-can't. I've promised to protect his mother, not him and well.. I have a life, a job! I can't spend all day babysitting just-flown-like-a-crazy-ass-bat-outta-Hell-Malfoy! It's too much!"

The power rolled back into the room with a thunderous roar; this time hot, just the side of scalding and Damien stood. "I will warn you this once . . . and only once. Never insult him again. He has been in Hell . . . In. Hell! Raped! Tortured! And nearly broken!

“And then he clawed his way out. To get. To. You.. He is yours and you will take care of him. This does not mean he is will always be like this-" Damien gestured to the broken blonde who was murmuring to himself and rocking back and forth gently. "-but for now this is all he can be! Yes, you promised to protect his mother. And you have. But he pledged himself to you. Mind, body, and soul. Don't you Wizards understand how literal words are in magic? What did you think it meant when he did that? Hmm? What?"

The power pressed Harry from all sides. He looked towards Draco and saw that either the blonde was too out of it to feel it or he didn't feel it at all. Tom's laughter had even stopped; the first time he was completely silent since four o'clock. Harry was finding it hard to breathe, but despite the pressure in his lungs, he croaked out, "I understand."

He didn't even realize he was floating about two feet in the air until he hit the cold wooden floor.

"Good." Damien nodded curtly and the power in the room receded. "He is yours now. And he will die for you . . ."

Harry said nothing, just greedily gulped for air as he pulled himself up onto his hands and knees. He felt Damien's gaze on him, but refused to look. He refused to acknowledge what was in the room with him. Tom had finally regained his voice and was now screaming at the top of his lungs words Harry couldn't grasp, but he ignored it. He ignored it all until he felt a hot shiver crawl up his spine. He looked up into silver eyes that were brimmed with sterling tears. Like diamonds, they began to roll down pale cheeks. He forgot all the pain in his body, he forgot his anger, he forgot Damien's presence, and he forgot to breath. Harry stood and he moved to Draco, stroking the tears from his cheeks and setting his forehead against the other man's, managing eye contact.

"Hurt," Draco croaked out touching his palm to Harry's chest, right above his frantically beating heart. "Hurt . . ."

"Hmm?" Harry's hand trailed up his stomach until it covered Draco's. "Hurt?"

Draco's face seemed to twist in confusion and then he broke into a lopsided grin and pulled away, he sat back his brow furrowing and glanced around the room his eyes settling on the clock. "Food.'"

"Okay, food," Harry shook his head and chuckled, he stood and left the room in quest for food. He spared Damien not one glance.

Damien allowed himself a smile before looking back to the blonde. He held his arms out and the boy immediately rushed into them like a child would his father. Damien nuzzled silver locks with an even wider smile. "Isn't that better now, luv? You now have a purpose."

"Food," Draco said happily and moved away from the taller man trotting after Harry, not even aware of how adorable he appeared making his way to the kitchen in nothing but his underwear.