Just Tie a Knot (Version 2)

Pairing: HP/BW, HP/LM, HP/LV, others implied
This is a modified version of an original Mpreg Fuh-Q-Fest Challenge 94. Harry unknowingly gets pregnant by Bill Weasley but is captured by Death Eaters. When he escapes or is rescued, he runs from the Wizarding World. Everyone is looking for him. (Cat)

Disclaimer: The story is based on characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including, but not limited to Scholastic Books and Warner Bros. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended; no monetary gain will be made from this story.

Author’s Notes: AU because men don’t get pregnant. All characters depicted herein in adult situations may safely be assumed to be over eighteen.

~*~*~*~
…Just Tie a Knot
*~*~*~*

“When you come to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on.” – Franklin Delano Roosevelt

*~*~*~*
Bill Weasley stroked the soft, smooth skin of his sleeping companion. Pale, with the finest covering of black hair, it only held a few scattered freckles, moles and scars, so unlike his own leopard-spotted skin. As he kissed the lightening bolt scar, brilliant green eyes opened.

“Hey,” he whispered.

“Hey, yourself.”

Harry Potter’s slim, calloused fingers ran gently over Bill’s lips and then his own, a softly murmured charm spoken. Bill felt a quick tingle in his mouth, followed by a burst of spearmint. He smiled; it was a breath freshening charm.

“Good morning, love.” Harry snaked an arm around Bill’s neck and brought him down for a kiss. “Do we have time for you to give me a proper good bye?”

Bill glanced at the Muggle alarm clock beside Harry’s bed. So much more practical than a Wizard clock, it actually told you the time. The red haired wizard pinned his slight companion’s naked form beneath him.

“Tonks and Dung won’t be here for another few hours and Mum won’t be here with Ron and Ginny until after six tonight.”

*~*~*~
Harry keened softly as Bill inserted a third well-lubricated finger into his tight channel, scissoring and twisting. Harry made a shuddered gasp as Bill found the spot he was searching for. The tall wizard kissed him deeply and caressed Harry’s smooth skin with his other hand. He loved the little noises Harry made.

Harry’s hand snaked between them, wrapping around the red head’s heavy cock. He whispered a lubrication charm and coated the organ thoroughly with the slick substance that had appeared in his hand. Bill moaned; Harry’s hands were only slightly less talented than his mouth. He pulled the smaller hand away.

“Please.” Harry whispered. “Now, please.”

Removing his fingers, Bill adjusted Harry’s hips and pushed the knees up and back, spreading his young lover open for display. This position was a little awkward with their difference in heights, but Bill liked to see the younger man’s face when he took him. The head of his cock nudged Harry’s entrance.

“Please…”

Harry let out a gasp of pain as Bill thrust, burying himself almost to the root in one stroke; the lubricant Harry had conjured was slicker than they were accustomed to using.

“I’m sorry, love…I didn’t mean to do that…did I hurt you?” Bill tried to withdraw, but Harry’s leg snaked around and wrapped behind his hip.

Pale, Harry kissed his chest, but held the red head in place with his leg. “N-never better…give me a minute.”

Bill kissed and caressed Harry to sooth him. After a moment, Harry signaled acceptance. The older wizard rocked into him with long, slow strokes, angling himself to repeatedly hit the prostate. Harry’s hips arched up to meet his thrusts, taking him deeper.

He looked into Harry’s face, so beautiful in it’s passion. He reminded himself that this was just a casual fuck – just an older friend teaching a younger one the finer points of lovemaking. That Harry had just wanted someone safe for his first time, someone who didn’t see him as a savior, who didn’t view him as a conquest. And Bill had agreed to those terms.

Then why, his traitorous heart asked, was he still in Harry’s bed a month after taking the now eighteen year old’s virginity?

Bill felt Harry begin to stiffen beneath him as warmth covered his stomach and chest; Harry had come with only the friction of their bodies as stimulation. The spasms of his orgasm pulsated through his slender frame, bringing Bill to climax several moments later.

In the afterglow that followed, Harry nuzzled against his chest. Kissing a sweat slicked shoulder, Bill whispered so softly Harry barely heard him.

“Oh Merlin, Harry…I’m really going to miss this…”

*~*~*~*
Summer spent in the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters was a bittersweet but educational experience for Harry. The multi-layered protection spells placed on Number Twelve Grimmauld Place also served to conceal and contain Harry’s use of the darker magics so that Harry was able to learn, practice and refine the skills that would help keep him alive in the battles to follow.

With Nymphadora Tonks and Mad Eye Moody as his primary instructors, Harry learned many hexes, curses and counter curses that would never appear on the Hogwart’s syllabus. And after continually teasing him about the rat’s nest on his head, Tonks showed him a few useful charms to control his hair and modify his appearance.

Severus Snape occasionally dropped in for refresher lessons on Occlumency and Wandless Magic. Sirius’ death and the start of the second wizarding war had forced them to co-operate with one another. They were colleagues and would probably never be friends, but the continued blind hatred had passed; Snape reluctantly agreed that Harry was not, and never would be, just like his father.

*~*~*~*
Harry voluntarily gave up his Dark Arts training the final week of August. Ron, Ginny and Molly Weasley were descending upon Grimmauld Place and Mrs. Weasley, already upset that Harry was returning to Hogwarts to attain specialized instruction in Battle Magic, Defense Against the Dark Arts and a major emphasis in Dark Arts training, would have had a fit had she known his Dark Arts training had already commenced.

Ginny was preparing for her final year at Hogwarts, glad she would finally have one year out of the shadow of her overprotective brothers. Ron was still undecided about his career plans. He applied for a low level position at the Ministry of Magic to appease his mother, but his heart wasn’t really in it.

Fred and George visited in the evenings. Since their thriving joke shop was situated in Diagon Alley, they had picked up Ginny’s school supplies, and with Tonk’s assistance, several brand new school and casual robes. For the first time in her Hogwarts career, she did not have to wear embarrassing second hand robes.

Hermione arrived mid-week. She was pursuing a Muggle university degree at her father’s suggestion. As her term did not begin for several weeks, she wanted to spend a little time with her closest friends and make the trip to King’s Cross Station and Platform 9-3/4 to see two of them off.

*~*~*~*
Harry watched the sun rise early on the morning of September First. He had been restless all night and had gotten very little sleep. His stomach was unsettled and his mind was uneasy. He had always enjoyed to the ride to Hogwarts on the Hogwarts Express, and he was looking forward to the unexpected bonus of taking it for an eighth year, but he had been fighting a sense of foreboding for several days.

When Mrs. Weasley entered the basement kitchen, she was surprised to find that Harry was already up and dressed. The dining table was set and he had put both the coffee pot and the teakettle on.

*~*~*~*
Arthur Weasley managed to secure a Ministry car for the journey to Kings Cross Station. Tonks and Mrs. Weasley rode in the vehicle with their four younger companions, and Crookshanks. Harry sent Hedwig to Hogwarts a week earlier with a message for Hagrid and he had told her to stay there.

Kings Cross Station was the usual madhouse of Muggle and magical crowds. Harry noticed several disguised Aurors patrolling the Muggle parts of the station on the lookout for Death Eater activity. Casually, Harry and Tonks leaned through the barrier to Platform 9-3/4 followed by Ginny and Hermione. Ron and his mother brought up the rear. The Hogwarts Express was already loading students as they made their way across the busy platform. Harry recognized many classmates as well as additional Aurors.

The popping sounds of a mass apparation caught Harry’s attention just as Tonks was caught from behind by a curse that flung her several feet into the air, crashing to the ground, unconscious. Harry drew his wand and crouched behind his luggage trolley. They were in the middle of the platform with no other protection. Panic erupted all along the station. Children and adults were running every which way; hexes and curses were felling witches and wizards at random. The green-eyed wizard saw at least fifteen figures in Death Eater robes stunning everyone that moved and from the sounds around him he was sure that there were many more he could not see. The frightened children, owls and cats were screaming.

“Enervate.” Harry pointed his wand at the unconscious pink-haired witch, but she did not awaken.

The dark wizards were grabbing dark haired wizards and then flinging them aside; Harry realized in alarm that they were probably searching for him. Unfortunately, “The Daily Prophet” had leaked a story about The-Boy-Who-Lived and his plans to return to Hogwarts for additional training; because of their foolish desire to make a profit, this attack was their entire fault. Slowly, he inched the trolley toward Mrs. Weasley and Ron who were defending a group of children from a protected alcove, dragging the unconscious Tonks behind him.

Several shouts alerted Harry that his location had been discovered. Mad Eye was teaching him how to apparate, but he knew he would splinch himself in his panicked state. Several wizards in Auror robes and unprepared parents battled with Death Eaters nearby. Using the distraction, Harry abandoned the trolley and began to drag Tonks toward the Weasleys.

Something black tackled him from behind; his eyeglasses flew off his nose and Tonks was knocked out of his arms by the impact. Harry tried to scrabble away, wand drawn, but the arms captured him roughly and he felt the familiar hook of a portkey below his navel. The last thing he heard was his wand hitting the pavement and Mrs. Weasley’s scream.

*~*~*~*
Peter Pettigrew spooned a cool liquid into Harry’s mouth, soothing his raw throat. Harry did not know how long he had been a prisoner of Lord Voldemort; torches provided his only source of light.

Wormtail washed the blood and semen from Harry’s slight frame. The now dulled green eyes remained closed. Pettigrew was the only one of his “caretakers” who had made no move to violate him. The slight wizard lost count of how many times an unlubricated cock had been shoved into his arse or down his throat; blood, he discovered, was not a pleasant lubricant.

Snape’s Occlumency lessons paid off in an unintentional way. He began clearing his mind to prevent Voldemort from fucking with it as well. Harry began to empty his mind during his repeated rapes; the emptiness was difficult to maintain, but it helped to keep him sane.

Wormtail spooned broth into Harry’s mouth, his chained wrists preventing him from feeding himself. After three mouthfuls, Harry’s stomach lurched. In a move that had become second nature over the past few days, Pettigrew pulled Harry up and leaned him over a bucket, his raw throat burning as he vomited the meager contents of his stomach.

Drained, the green eyed wizard collapsed back onto the stained mattress; he had been unable to keep anything down for almost a week. He was so tired and thirsty. Oddly, the nipples on his chest were swollen and tender to the touch. Wormtail banished the vomit with a flick of his wand and covered the slight form with a blanket.

*~*~*~*
Harry breathed in deeply as Lucius Malfoy sucked at one of his swollen nipples. The white blond Death Eater smirked and bit the overly sensitive nub.

“A little tender, are we?”

Harry did not answer. Of all the dark wizards that had violated him, servicing Lucius was the most traumatic. Lucius always took his time, making sure Harry’s body responded to his attentions, almost as if they were lovers. Intellectually, Harry knew that his orgasms were just a natural response to the stimulation, but emotionally he was disgusted with himself, as if some twisted part of him actually enjoyed the violence.

Lucius caressed his face in a gesture of mock affection. Harry fought not to flinch at the touch.

“You are so full of surprises, little whore. The Dark Lord is so pleased.”

Harry could not hide the look of confusion that crossed his face. Lucius picked up on it at once.

“Didn’t Wormtail tell you?” he drawled. “Called in a mediwizard last night while you were asleep…said the vomiting and nausea was normal…for someone who was at least a month pregnant.”

Harry jolted in alarm and then in confusion. “Pregnant? But I’m a boy…boys don’t get pregnant.”

Lucius’ strong hand wrapped around Harry’s erect penis, casually rubbing his thumb along the vein. “Oh, Pet…Muggle men do not get pregnant…and you…” He ran his hand the length of Harry’s cock, squeezing gently. “You are certainly not a Muggle and…”

Harry flinched as Lucius pushed his knees apart and nudged at his opening.

“…And you are certainly no longer a boy.”

*~*~*~*
Harry curled up into himself as much as the shackles on his wrists would permit. He was frightened, furious and confused. Pregnant. Could his screwed up parody of a life get any more bizarre, he wondered.

According to Malfoy, naturally occurring male pregnancy was rare, but not unusual in certain pureblood families. It could occur any time with a powerful enough wizard, but the Dolohov, Lestrange, Potter, Snape and Weasley males had, historically, reproduced every third generation or so.

The slight wizard stiffened as the lock to the cell door was drawn. The sharp, musky scent that tickled his nostrils belonged to only one man – Voldemort. His scar throbbed, but no longer screamed, in the presence of the Dark Lord. Voldemort had partially severed their connection through some ancient dark magic when the constant pain in the curse scar caused by their close proximity overflowed Harry’s wild magic and threatened to drive them both to madness.

Voldemort inhaled, smelling sex and cologne; Lucius had recently been there. He pulled back the blanket covering Harry’s naked form and wandlessly released the shackles on the young man’s wrists. After weeks of wear, the metal bands had left both wrists raw and heavily bruised.

“Get up, Pet.”

Without hesitation, Harry climbed off the mattress and stood before the tall, serpentine wizard. He stared straight ahead, not looking up or making eye contact. Voldemort sat on the edge of the mattress and motioned for Harry to approach.

Knowing refusal only brought more pain, Harry stepped closer to the bed and faced the dark wizard, unconsciously rubbing his damaged wrists. He trembled as the white, spider like fingers caressed his body. Only Lucius and Voldemort ever touched him; to the other Death Eaters he was just a convenient hole.

Green eyes stared unwaveringly into red as Voldemort curled his fingers into Harry’s hair and pulled him into a violent, possessive kiss. One hand held him in place as Voldemort devoured his mouth; the other hand ran down his spine, across his buttocks, teased at his chest before finally coming to rest on his lower abdomen. The hand caressed his still flat stomach. This sign of gentle affection terrified Harry; fetuses were used in the darkest of dark magic.

“I think, perhaps, that I will no longer let the others play with you.” His almost human face quirked with what may have been a smile. “After all, you are carrying my heir.”

“How.” Harry began but stopped himself. He was forbidden to speak without permission.

“How do I know that it’s mine? You’re at least a month gone and for the first week only I pleasured myself with you.” A quick wave of his hand and Voldemort’s robe opened, revealing that he was naked beneath and fully aroused. He pulled Harry onto his lap, straddling his thighs.

“Of course, there is a chance it might be Lucius’ because we shared you the second week…No matter. It’s still my heir… even if it turns out to be a Malfoy…he is a powerful wizard in his own right.”

The dark wizard roughly grabbed Harry’s already bruised hips, digging his claw like fingers into the flesh. Harry cried out as he was lifted and impaled on Voldemort’s erection.

“Yes,” Voldemort hissed in pleasure. “Always so much better when Lucius prepares you first.”

*~*~*~*
Albus Dumbledore poured tea for the witches and wizards assembled in his office. After they had all refused his offer of lemon tarts, he called the meeting to order.

Remus Lupin stood up, looking older and grayer than a man his age should look. “Fillius and I unearthed an ancient locator spell, used primarily for children missing or kidnapped. Usually it is cast by a parent, or a loving parental figure…” Lupin paused before continuing. “But as Harry has no surviving family member that fits that description…it could perhaps be cast by an intimate, such as a girlfriend.”

“Does Harry even have a girlfriend?” Arthur Weasley asked. “Ron and Ginny never mentioned he had one.”

“There was that Ravenclaw Seeker Cho Chang…” Remus stopped abruptly and scowled. “But that was years ago.”

“And it never got beyond the awkward first kiss stage.” Snape said, and as the room looked at him in surprise, he continued with a growl. “I did give him Occlumency lessons…that relationship died when Marissa Edgecomb revealed the existence of the D.A. to Delores Umbridge. Potter felt betrayed by Miss Chang’s decision to defend her friend’s actions.”

“That, and Cho only used Harry. She likes the dating the famous. She played the same game with Cedric Diggory. She just wanted the power that came from dating The Boy Who Lived.” Bill Weasley spoke from the edge of the room. “It has rather put him off dating.”

Arthur cleared his throat. “Molly and I have always thought kindly about Harry…would have adopted him if we’d been permitted…I could get Molly if you think it would be enough…”

Remus’ shoulders sagged. “It will have to do…”

“No,” said Nymphadora Tonks suddenly. “Harry took a lover this summer…I teased him about the love bites on his neck.”

“Who was she?” Lupin asked urgently.

“That’s the problem, Remus. I don’t know who she was…had to be a Muggle…maybe his aunt knows…”

“Why a Muggle?” growled Mad Eye.

“Harry spent three weeks with the Dursleys to renew the blood bond and spent the remainder locked in at Grimmauld Place…Other than Fred and George popping over for dinner once or twice, there were only Order members there…and I certainly didn’t snog him.” Tonks ran her hand through her spiked pink hair. “Until Molly brought Ginny and Hermione the last week of August, there were no young witches there…so it must be a Muggle girl from Surrey.”

Tonks transformed herself into an elderly woman with sensible shoes. “I’ll pop over to Little Whinnig and ask Petunia Dursley. Though I daresay Harry probably would not have confided in her.”

“Hold up, Tonks.” Arthur said. “I’ll go with you as far as Hogsmeade… and go home for Molly.”

Dumbledore stood up. “Why don’t we break for lunch? And meet back here in two hours.”

The room began to empty, the wizards following Albus down to the kitchens. There would be too many prying eyes and spies in the Great Hall to eat in the same room as the children.

Remus began to walk slower knowing that only Bill was behind him. As the others moved farther ahead, the werewolf suddenly turned, slamming the much taller wizard into the wall. The amber eyes glowed in the semidarkness of the hall.

“Weasley,” he said sharply. “Was he just a fuck or does he mean something to you?”

*~*~*~*
Hedwig ruffled her white feathers before settling herself onto Bill’s shoulder, occasionally tugging at the fanged earring. Remus arranged several items onto the table in front of him – Harry’s wand, his twisted eyeglass frames, his Firebolt and Dumbledore’s pensive. Only Remus and Bill were in the unused classroom; the door had been warded and silencing charms set.

Remus was livid. In the aftermath of Sirius Black’s death, the Marauder stepped in as a father figure for Harry. He had trusted Bill Weasley with Harry’s life and the man had repaid his trust by taking advantage of the depressed, emotionally starved young man.

“Afraid they’d discover you for the pedophile that you are, were you?” Remus seethed, the wolf rising to the surface.

“He has passed his age of majority, Lupin…and he asked me.”

“He was eighteen, Weasley. You’ll be thirty soon.”

“Twenty six.”

“You still should have told him no!” Remus sat down, running his had through his graying hair. “You should have said something…Tonks is going all the way to Surrey for nothing.”

“I couldn’t tell… no one knows.”

“Knows what?” Remus’ voice was brittle in anger. “That you liked fucking Harry or that you like fucking men? And your little Veela girlfriend…have you fucked her as well?”

Bill ran his hand over Hedwig’s feathers and she nipped at him affectionately. “I am not gay, I am Bi and Harry is as well. Fleur and I use one another. She uses me to keep unwanted suitors at bay and I use her to keep my mother off my back.” Bill smiled wryly. “Can you imagine what Mum would do if she found out about me and Harry? … Not the most forward thinking witch, my mother.”

“I imagine incest would cross her mind,” said Remus a little more gently; the wolf in him was fading.

“She thinks of Harry as a black-haired Weasley…but I’ve never thought of him that way…Ever.”

Lupin held out Harry’s wand. “Then he wasn’t just…”

“No. Harry wasn’t just a fuck.”

“I’ll keep your secret, but you need to do something for me in return.”

Bill looked up warily.

“We do the locator spell… just you and me… right now.”

“And if it doesn’t work?”

“We’ll try it again with your mother and the others.”

*~*~*~*
With Hedwig still perched on his shoulder, Bill crossed wands with Harry’s in one hand and his own in the other. Remus held his wand tip to Hedwig’s temple, the pensive by his elbow, and placed his other hand above Bill’s on Harry’s wand.

“Hold still, Hedwig,” Remus spoke quietly. “We’re going to try to find Harry…I know you probably don’t understand…but concentrate on where you would find Harry if you wanted to deliver a letter…All right, Bill…count of three…one…two…three.”

Together the curse breaker and the werewolf began to chant a spell in the forgotten language of Gaul. A haze in Bill’s mind began to clear and he followed an aerial path through the countryside, past cities and villages, to a desolate stretch of moor. He realized, with a start, that he was seeing through the snowy owl’s eyes.

Descending into a quiet, little village, over an ancient cemetery and into an overgrown estate with crumbling walls, the vision entered an open window and made its way through an illusion charm. The dwelling was exquisite inside, finely decorated in antiques and artifacts – a dark wizard’s estate. Spiraling down a series of mahogany staircases, the vision brought them to a torch lit corridor. After a moment’s hesitation, a door opened revealing the inside of a cell.

Bill’s stomach lurched. Remus made a choking sound in his throat. They were glad the vision carried no sound. Harry, bones protruding from his bruised, stick thin body, was being savaged by Lord Voldemort. Chains, hung unused on a wall, but from the black bruised rings visible around the slender wrists, Harry had been confined by them at some point.

Hedwig let out a mournful hoot in Bill’s ear as the vision began to fade. Voldemort left the cell and Harry curled up into a ball on his blood and semen stained mattress, the bruises and bite marks visible against his pale flesh.

Bill’s horror struck blue eyes locked on Remus’ gray face as the image faded to a wisp. One after the other, the two wizards placed their memories into the pensive. Hedwig wobbled on Bill’s shoulder, exhausted.

*~*~*~*
An hour later the spell was performed a second time using Molly Weasley, Albus Dumbledore and Fawkes. This journey showed more detail on the dwelling and the surrounding village. When they finally entered the enchanted estate, Harry was asleep in his cell, wearing what looked to be an oversize man’s white dress shirt and covered by a stained blanket to the waist. One wrist was shackled to the wall and both were wrapped in clean gauze bandages.

Per Remus’ adamant demand, most of the Order members were sent to another room as a few hand-selected wizards remained to view the pensive memories of Bill and Remus as well as review the memories of Albus and Molly. Molly had not wanted to leave, but after Bill quietly informed his father of the disturbing contents, he forced his arguing wife out the door. He had no wish to see a child he considered be one of his own being sodomized by a monster.

Repeatedly the remaining wizards viewed the pensive memories, trying to decipher the clues. Mad Eye thought he recognized the village and Snape was fairly certain the estate belonged to the Lestrange family.

~*~*~
“Tampered with.” Arthur’s words echoed in Molly’s head. Harry had been tampered with. She knew that Arthur was trying to protect her “delicate sensibilities”, but she knew what word he had not wanted to say – Raped.

“Poor Harry,” she said. “Perhaps it would be a blessing if he didn’t survive.”

Rape victims did not easily find acceptance in “polite” society. She put away her dream that he might one day marry Ginerva. He was despoiled now. She would not permit him to taint her daughter with his touch. Yes, death would be a mercy.

Arthur looked at his wife in horror. Harry back in any form was better than Harry back in a pine box.

~*~*~*
Harry pulled at the manacle, feeling his gauze wrapped wrist slip a little. The thick gauze of the bandage had prevented the wrist restraint from closing as tightly as it had in the past. Wormtail wasn’t usually that unobservant, he thought. He unraveled several layers of the gauze and tugged again, biting back the pain. His hand slipped the restraints.

Rewrapping the gauze, Harry listened for sounds in the corridor outside. Hearing nothing, he crawled out of the bed, naked except for the white dress shirt that hung mid-thigh. He wrapped the soiled blanket around his shoulders; the white of the shirt would act like a beacon in the darkness. The cold stone floor nipped at his toes and he momentarily wished he had something to wear on his feet. As well as cold, the floor was slimy in spots and he really did not want to know what he was stepping in.

The slight wizard crept to the door and listened again. Nothing. He was too short to see out the high barred window. Gathering his courage and his magical reserves, Harry turned the door handle. He was not surprised to find it locked. Reaching out his senses, he did not detect any wards upon the door. He inhaled and concentrated as he held the handle.

“Alohamora,” he whispered, feeling the tingle of wandless magic. A soft click told him the door was unlocked.

Quietly, he opened the door a sliver. The corridor was deserted. He opened it wider, peering both ways down the hall. He couldn’t see much without his eyeglasses and hoped no one was lurking in the shadows. Keeping close to the wall, Harry made his way through the underground corridors to a set of staircases. Screwing up all of his Gryffindor courage, he silently made his way up to daylight.

In his quest to discover the location of human guards, he never noticed the gray rat with a silver paw following his path in the shadows. Hearing deep voices, Harry crouched low behind a suit of armor and waited for the men to pass. After determining no one else was following, Harry ducked into a large room. It was a banquet room; a long, heavy trestle table and several dozen high backed chairs dominated the room. At one end was a fireplace tall enough to stand in.

Harry squinted into the semidarkness, recognizing the room as the one he had been portkeyed into. He searched for a container of Floo Powder. He had seen wizards depart from the fireplace the day he had been captured.

Hearing a shuffle sound, Harry crawled under the table and hid in the shadow of the chair legs. He heard the soft tap of boot heals on the stone floor and held his breath when a figure entered the banquet room and walked the length of the table. Scuffed brown boots stopped beside the chair he was hiding behind. A small pouch was dropped to the floor beside the chair leg.

“Floo Powder, Potter.” Wormtail spoke quietly; afraid his voice would carry in the empty room. “I am returning to your cell to sound the alarm about your escape. Do use your ten minutes wisely.”

Wormtail walked a few steps. “Potter, consider my Wizard’s Debt to you paid in full.”

*~*~*~*
Harry stumbled but regained his balance as the Floo Network deposited him into the basement kitchens of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. He relaxed slightly when no curses or hexes greeted his arrival. The room was deserted.

A quick examination revealed the rest of the house was deserted as well. Even the house elf, Kreacher, was gone; decapitated by Buckbeak after taunting the hippogroff one too many times. No tears had been shed over that incident; even Hermione had no reproachful comment and Buckbeak had been released back into the wild, much to Hagrid’s delight.

Harry was relieved that the house was vacant. He felt every inch the whore Lucius Malfoy had called him and didn’t want anyone to see him covered in blood and semen. Merlin only knew how he smelled.

The slight wizard collected a slim volume on common household mediwizardry from the small shelf of cookbooks in the kitchen. He wandered up to the first floor; stopping in the front parlor to open a secret compartment Mad Eye had shown him. It contained a half-dozen back up wands to be used in an emergency. Casually testing each, Harry selected an ebony wand; it was the only one that gave him a slight tremor of magic. It was not ideal, but it would have to do.

Harry climbed up the main staircase to the bedrooms on the second floor, grateful that Mrs. Black’s portrait had not awoken. In his current state, he really wasn’t up to her howls of indignation.

Harry gathered up a change of clothes from the lightweight summer clothes he had left in his bedroom and made his way to the large bathroom at the end of the hallway. He closed the door for privacy just in case someone arrived at the house while he was bathing, but did not bother to lock it. In his weakened condition and with a borrowed wand, he doubted any ward he might cast would hold up to even a third year.

As the deep claw footed bathtub filled with hot water, Harry perused the medicine cabinet. He located a powdered general healing potion that contained a wound disinfectant. He poured it liberally into the hot water, watching the water take on a blue tinge.

He folded the blanket and stuffed it into the trashcan beside the commode. The white dress shirt followed. As he unwound the gauze from his wrists, he caught his blurred reflection in the full-length mirror. Pretty whore. He saw nothing pretty in that bruised and used skeleton. He ran his fingers gently over the bite marks on his shoulder. He dumped the gauze into the trashcan and eased his sore body into the bath water.

Harry grimaced as the disinfectant bubbled into the open sores. He held his breath and submerged himself time and time again until the disinfectant ceased bubbling. He noticed with satisfaction that the black bruises were fading and new skin was healing over the cuts and bites.

*~*~*~*
Dressed in boxers and a t-shirt, Harry curled up into his bed, his mind was overflowing and his stomach rumbled in complaint. As exhausted as he was, sleep was not going to come. Slipping on a pair of miss-matched socks and a too short robe, he padded quietly down the staircase and into the kitchen.

The house was still deserted, but the kitchen was stocked with fresh food. Sipping a cup of tea and nibbling on a few chunks of cheese, cold sausage and crackers, Harry picked up a copy of “The Daily Prophet” that had been left on the countertop. He did not know how long he had been held prisoner, but by the date on the newspaper, it was at least mid-October.

His eyes scanned an advertisement from “Quality Quidditch Supplies.” The Quidditch season would have already begun. He forced away thoughts of Quidditch and Hogwarts; he was damaged goods and pregnant with the Dark Lord’s bastard child. Hogwarts was no longer a sanctuary open to him.

Bastard and whore. Unconsciously, he ran his hand over his still flat abdomen. His child, he told himself forcefully. The child was his; Voldemort only provided the seed. He couldn’t return to the wizarding world, he realized with a start. As often as the temperamental wizarding world had turned against him, what would they do with this information? They would never accept his child; they would never accept him. Some Ministry of Magic underling might even force an abortion. There would be no future for him or his child.

And even if he wasn’t carrying Voldemort’s child, if Molly Weasley was any indication, the wizarding world was intolerant of out of wedlock children. He and Hermione had received a lengthy lecture from the plump witch one year about consorting with the wrong kind of witch after they had helped a young woman carry a pram down a steep staircase beside Flourish and Blotts. They had found it strange that no one else had offered to help her. Scarlet woman and strumpet were several of the names that Mrs. Weasley had used. “Strumpet” echoed in his mind.

Muggles, on the whole, seemed more tolerant of unwed mothers and single parenthood. The news was full of this actress or that singer having a child and in many neighborhoods teenage mothers were quite common.

Of course, Aunt Petunia and her friends fit right in with Mrs. Weasley’s way of thinking. Last summer, Piers, Dudley’s best friend, had gotten his girlfriend pregnant. By the way Aunt Petunia carried on, you would have thought the poor girl had single mindedly decided to destroy a perfect boy’s life with her wanton ways. Never mind that it took two to conceive a child and, if Piers’ bragging to his mates held any truth, he had already “knocked up” two other girls near Smeltings School.

Harry shuddered involuntarily. He would have to return to the Muggle world; it was the only safe place for him to go. He ran his hands through his overgrown hair. He fell into an uneasy sleep, his mind swimming with plans. With any luck, he would disappear before anyone even knew he had escaped the Death Eaters.

*~*~*~*
Harry awoke from a nightmare suddenly in the middle of the night, shaking violently. He bolted down the hallway to the bathroom, just barely reaching the commode in time to vomit. With shaking hands, he splashed cold water from the sink onto his face. This vision had been more violent than most.

Lord Voldemort had discovered that he was missing and he was furious. Harry watched in horror through their mind link as Wormtail was tortured and cursed until he died. Peter Pettigrew had paid his Wizard’s Debt to Harry with his life. In those long moments, Harry suddenly realized why the small Animagus had been sorted into Gryffindor.

*~*~*~*
The next morning Harry woke up to the sunlight streaming through the torn ancient curtains. He felt safe, a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time. Slowly, he became aware of another presence in the room. He opened his eyes and found himself face to face with an old friend.

“Dobby?”

Dobby was practically bouncing in his excitement. “Oh, Mr. Harry Potter, sir…I’m so happy to see you safe…”

Harry held up a hand to stem the rush of words. “Why are you here?”

“Dobby comes to clean once a week… more if there are wizards staying…Dobby so happy to find Harry Potter…Does Harry Potter want breakfast?”

“Stop, Dobby,” Harry said quietly, wishing his world was in focus. “Is anyone else here?”

“No, Harry Potter…All away on Professor Dumbledore’s orders…Dobby thinks they are looking for you…Should Dobby tell them you are back?”

“No, Dobby.” Harry said urgently. “Dobby, you have to promise me you won’t tell anyone I’m here. I can’t stay here…they will all hate me.”

Dobby’s bat-like ears twitched. He had seen the items left behind in the bathroom and Harry’s aura was different. “Dobby promises not to tell anyone.”

Harry swung his legs out of the bed. A thought came to mind. “Dobby, would you be able to get me something from Hogwarts without anyone knowing?”

Dobby’s large eyes blinked. “I think so, Mr. Harry Potter. What do you want?”

“Is my school trunk there? Did they bring it from Kings Cross?”

“Yes, still locked…you want Dobby to bring it?”

“Yes. I need some proper clothes…and could you send Hedwig to me? She must be worried.”

“Dobby can do that for Mr. Harry Potter. Are you wanting Dobby to make breakfast?”

“Just some tea and toast would be fine. I’m not very hungry.”

*~*~*~*
Harry stared into the bathroom mirror. He had taken another soak in the healing solution and most of his injuries were almost healed. It was even easier to sit without wincing; he did not know a spell to heal the torn anal tissues and the book on mediwizardry did not contain any spell like that; it dealt with common ailments like earaches and broken bones. Wormtail had cast a healing spell on him several times, but Harry did not remember the incantation.

True to his word, Dobby had returned with his trunk and Hedwig. Hedwig was very pleased to see him again; she would not leave his side in case he disappeared again. She perched on a towel bar in the bathroom, her amber eyes followed all of his movements.

Since neither his eyeglasses nor his wand was in his school trunk, Harry made due with the borrowed wand. Dobby located an old pair of wizard spectacles in the Black family library and a quick tap at the temples caused them to adjust to his prescription. They looked much better than the horrid NHS frames the Dursleys had provided him, but one of his first stops would be an optician. The small rectangular frames were from the last century or earlier and were quite fragile.

Harry studied himself critically. To hide in the Muggle world, he would have to change his appearance. Muggle men did not get pregnant. He took a calming breath before patting his unruly black hair; a simple spell Tonks had taught him grew it out. The dark hair tumbled just past his shoulders. He still looked too much like himself; another charm changed all of his body hair to a soft coppery chestnut. Perfect, he thought. His green eyes and pale complexion did not stand out as much with the reddish hair.

Harry ran the wand over his chest, up his arms, under his arms, down his legs and finally, the lower half of his face. The hair removing charm removed the body hair he associated with being a male. He left his pubic area untouched – no one was going to see that anytime soon.

Hedwig hooted in confusion, pulling on a strand of chestnut hair. He petted her softly as much to reassure her as himself.

Dressing quickly in plain trousers, a shirt and a long baggy pullover, he hoped that it would not stick out as too masculine as well as obscure a certain male body part he had no intention of altering.

*~*~*~*
A contingent made up of Ministry of Magic Aurors, lead by Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Order of the Phoenix members, lead by Mad Eye Moody, descended upon the ancient estate of the Lestrange family deep in the Welsh countryside. To a Muggle, the estate appeared to be the crumbling remains of a seventeenth century manor house but, to the wizards, it was an impressive dwelling.

It was soon apparent, by the little resistance given by the inhabitants of the estate, that the Death Eaters had been tipped off prior to their arrival. With the exception of a few house elves and Squib gardeners, the house was deserted. A room-by-room, floor-by-floor sweep revealed several startling discoveries.

The dismembered remains of the traitor, Peter Pettigrew, were discovered in a blood slick banquet room. Several of the younger witches and wizards retched upon viewing him; they were too young to have witnessed the atrocities committed during the first reign of He Who Must Not Be Named. After crime scene photographs were taken, Shacklebolt and Bill Weasley collected the remains of the unfortunate victim and placed them in a body bag held open by an impassive middle aged Auror.

Remus Lupin led a group into the lower levels, following a faint scent he thought belonged to Harry. Deeper and deeper they descended until reaching the lowest underground level. Harry’s scent was stronger here. At the end of a torch lit corridor, Remus found the cell where Harry’s scent was the strongest. A quick examination of the room revealed that it was empty; the wizards soon left to continue their search of the premises, leaving the werewolf behind.

Remus leaned against the wall in the hallway beside the door leading to the cell Harry had been kept as a prisoner for over a month. The graying man was ashen, the scents of the mattress in the cell too painful to fully comprehend. His werewolf senses had detected the scent of Harry, his blood, urine, vomit and semen as well as the semen of at least twelve additional men. This knowledge along with the vision from the locator spell he and Bill had performed told of the horrible days and nights Harry must have endured – no fewer than twelve men had raped his godson.

Mad Eye Moody limped toward the werewolf. His magical eye took in the mattress and the stains; he patted the man’s hunched shoulders.

“Lupin,” he growled roughly. “The search of the house is complete. There’s no sign of Potter so they must have taken him with them when they escaped. Weasley found Peter Pettigrew’s body in the Banquet Room – hated the man for what he did to James and Lily, but I wouldn’t wish that kind of death on anyone.”

Remus roused himself. Harry wasn’t here, but that meant maybe he was still alive. “We need to take the body back to the Ministry…It’s too late to help Padfoot, but Harry would be happy if we could clear Sirius’ name…”

*~*~*~*
Standing in the lobby of Gringott’s Bank, Harry adjusted the straps of a book bag over his shoulder and set Hedwig’s cage on the floor as he paused to get his bearings. He pulled out his vault key from a chain around his neck and joined a line waiting for the next available teller.

He saw a familiar red head stride across the lobby and it occurred to Harry that maybe he didn’t need to run away. Bill Weasley was the most levelheaded man he knew. As he debated whether to call out to the tall wizard, Fleur Delacour entered the bank and Bill smiled. Harry turned away as Bill hugged the half-veela and they walked from the bank, chatting happily and holding hands.

Pushing aside the memory of warm hands on his skin, Harry moved forward in the line. Bill had said “I’ll miss this” meaning the sex, he never said “I’ll miss you”. Harry had said he wanted a casual fuck, something with no strings attached and, he reminded himself harshly, that was all he was to Bill. That was all he would ever be to anyone. He was, after all, just a pretty whore.

*~*~*~*
Dobby bustled about the kitchen at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place preparing a dinner for the Order of the Phoenix members who were returning from a raid. He was in his element, multiple pans simmering, whole chickens roasting and fresh bread baking. He hopped over to the dining area and set out the silverware and place settings.

The witches and wizards had begun arriving as he was putting the finishing touches on the meal; he never knew how many would actually eat, but too much food was better than not enough. Tonks stuck her head in the doorway, offering to help serve the food, but Dobby politely declined. She meant well, but she was extremely clumsy so he sent her off with napkins and an extra tablecloth. Nervously, the house elf glanced at the bundle of fabric he had tucked in an out of the way corner. He knew he should just incinerate it, but he was too undecided about what to do with it.

Remus and Mad Eye tumbled through the Floo Network into the kitchen; the anti-apparation wards on the house were a sometimes-inconvenient security measure.

“Dobby, Professor Dumbledore will be late. He had to take a package to the Ministry. We should begin eating without him…just make sure you’ve set aside dessert for his sweet tooth when he does arrive.” Mad Eye began limping from the kitchen but stopped when he noticed Remus frozen in the middle of the kitchen, a puzzled look on his face.

“Lupin?”

Remus’ werewolf senses were still on full alert from the unsuccessful raid on the Lestrange estate. He stalked the kitchen, sniffing. He seized the bundle of fabric Dobby had left in the corner.

“Harry?”

Dobby began to slam his hands in the oven door. He had promised not to tell anyone. Remus pounced on him, restraining the agitated little elf.

“Dobby, Harry was here? Where is he? Is he upstairs?”

Dobby whimpered, trying to bang his head. “Dobby promised…bad Dobby…”

Mad Eye’s magical eye was rotating, examining the inside of the house. “His trunk is in his bedroom, but he’s not here.”

“Bad Dobby…bad, bad Dobby…Dobby promised not to tell…”

“Dobby, it’s important…did you see him? Was he injured?” Remus clutched the stained white dress shirt and the wool blanket. Harry’s scent was fresh, less than a day. The wizard sank onto one of the kitchen benches; Harry’s scent had subtly changed. His amber eyes locked on Dobby. “Harry’s scared… He was safe here…why did he leave? Did he go to Hogwarts?… Please, Dobby, he’s not thinking clearly.”

“Mr. Harry Potter said you would all hate him…”

“Hate him?” Mad Eye stopped Dobby from kicking the fireplace. “Why would we hate him? Death Eaters for tortured him over a month. He’s not right in his head.”

Remus buried his nose in the crumpled dress shirt. His heart ached. While they had gone to rescue Harry, Harry apparently had rescued himself. Wormtail had died either because he had let him escape or had, for some unknown reason, helped him escape. But the scent told him something else.

“He’s pregnant. He thinks we’ll hate him because one of those Death Eater rapists impregnated him… Dobby, did he go to Hogwarts?”

Dobby’s little body was rocking side to side. “Dobby does not know, Professor Lupin, sir. Mr. Harry Potter was sleeping in his bed when Dobby came to clean. Dobby was so happy. Dobby brought him his trunk so he had clothes and his owl. Dobby needed more flour to make bread so Dobby went to get flour. Mr. Harry Potter was gone when Dobby returned…Dobby is sorry, sirs, but Dobby promised Mr. Harry Potter…”

*~*~*~*
Harry looked around “The Leaky Cauldron” one final time before he stepped out into Muggle London. His entire life now consisted of a backpack, a tote bag and an owl in a cage. In his wallet were pieces of Muggle Identification and a credit card that carried the name of a prestigious London bank but would draw directly from his Gringott’s vault. For a certain fee, the goblins would do anything and not ask awkward questions.

The young wizard cast one final charm upon himself, a glamour charm that made him look older. He would need to rent a safe apartment somewhere and no one would be taking an eighteen year old, male or female, seriously. He would remove the glamour as soon as he was properly situated to disappear into the Muggle world.

Harry had no real destination in mind and he decided if he acted on whim he would be that much harder to trace. Entering Victoria Station, he caught the first train to depart and ended up in Wales. After spending the night in a clean, but shabby hotel near the train station, Harry picked a direction at random and caught a train the next morning, heading north.

Hedwig didn’t like all the jostling, but she was being a good sport about it. Harry was glad he had purchased a cage cover at Eeyops Owl Emporium before leaving Diagon Alley. People just assumed the middle-aged woman he appeared to be had a cage of budgies or a parrot. As long as the snowy owl did not hoot, no one was the wiser.

*~*~*~*
Albus, Remus and a very frayed looking Fawkes performed the locator charm using Harry’s wand and the white shirt as a focus. The vision took them through Victoria Station and followed the path of a Muggle train, finally focusing on a compartment containing two businessmen and a middle aged woman with a large birdcage.

The vision focused on the woman, and that confused them until the afternoon sunlight fell on the distinctive emerald green eyes. Harry. Harry in his glamored disguise stared sadly out of the train window, a forgotten magazine in his lap.

~*~*~*~*
The morning sickness still disabled Harry for at least an hour every morning, but it was not as severe as it had been. According to one of the books on male pregnancy he had purchased before leaving Diagon Alley. Morning sickness usually disappeared by the end of the third month. Crackers, dry toast and weak tea all seemed to help.

Harry made an appointment with a realtor who also dealt with rental properties. Harry spun a convincing tale of a messy divorce and the need to move somewhere quiet for at least a year “to find herself”. The realtor soon located several properties. Harry decided upon a small cottage in a village on the Scottish border; it was within a ten-minute walk to a shopping district and came with utilities, appliances and several pieces of furniture. The young wizard paid six months rent in advance and acquired a key without ever seeing it in person. The realtor had given him a video tour via the Internet and a neatly sketched floor plan.

Since Harry could not take possession of the cottage until November 1, he spent the next three days acquiring and shrinking the items he would need for a household. Having never had much opportunity to shop for himself, Harry found the task both overwhelming and enjoyable. He made a checklist of everything he thought he would need to outfit a house and slowly worked his way through the list, knowing that he probably was forgetting many things. Within walking distance of his hotel room was a Marks and Spencer department store; without much difficulty, he was able to coordinate his bedding, bath and kitchen supplies. He even picked up a few items of clothing from their small maternity department. He couldn’t help but wonder what Mr. Weasley would do in such a place.

*~*~*~*
Hedwig devoured the last of the feeder mice Harry purchased for her from a pet shop around the corner from the hotel. Harry hadn’t wanted to risk letting her out to hunt in the city, afraid that she could ingest a mouse or rat that had eaten poison.

It was nearly midnight on October 31. Harry stood before the mirror in the cramped hotel bathroom and removed the age glamour; an asexual creature with chestnut hair looked back at him through a new pair of gold rimmed eyeglasses.

With a sigh, he returned to the sleeping area and packed all of his shrunken belongings into several canvas tote bags. Hedwig landed on his shoulder and tugged at the long hair; she was glad her master looked almost like himself again.

Harry stroked her feathers. “Sorry Hedwig. The hair has to stay…”

She hooted softly, feeling the sadness in the young man.

“Tomorrow morning we move to our new home…I can’t be a wizard anymore…I’ll be a Muggle.”

*~*~*~*
Harry sat at his kitchen table and sipped a cup of tea. The afternoon light glittered on the glassware in his kitchen cupboards. He smiled, pleased with his little cottage.

It was a non-descript little house built in the late 1920’s and re-plumbed and updated sometime in the 1980’s. Consisting of only three rooms – a tiny bathroom, a bedroom and a combined living room and kitchen, Harry spent the past two days scrubbing and polishing it until it sparkled. He could still smell the oil soap he used on the woodwork and the floors. Aunt Petunia had taught him well.

The furniture was old fashioned, but it fit the little cottage’s personality. He had taken down the frilly gauze curtains and removed the large floral slipcovers on the sofa and chair; an old woman had definitely been a previous resident. He neatly folded the fabric lengths and placed them in the plastic bag his new duvet had come in tucking the bag into the attic crawlspace; the curtains and slipcovers, however gaudy, were not his property to dispose of.

Hedwig slept on a perch beside a built in bookcase. As the cottage backed up onto an expanse of undeveloped land, the snowy owl was pleased to be able to hunt and exercise again. She often disappeared for hours.

Harry poured himself another cup of tea from his teapot and added an item to his shopping list. Tomorrow he would walk the promised ten-minute walk into town and investigate the shopping district. Perhaps he would see if he could locate a bookstore or a public library.

Harry yawned, the fatigue settling in. Now that he was done moving in and the initial excitement of decorating his own home had subsided, sadness and depression was creeping back into his heart and his head. He would need to find something to occupy his time. There was a small unkempt yard, but the cold pre-winter rains had already begun, so that prevented anything but the most basic of cleanup.

The radio played softly in the background; he didn’t understand much of the idle political chitchat of the announcers. A previous renter had left behind a small working television, but it seemed to only get three stations and the afternoon soap operas were hardly his choice for a distraction.

*~*~*~*
The slight wizard readied himself for bed, pulling on a pair of flannel pajamas. As he buttoned the top, a button came loose in his hand. He set it carefully on the bedside table. He would need to sew it back on in the morning. Mrs. Figg had taught him how to sew buttons and make minor sewing repairs; she thought all young men should be able to take care of themselves.

Harry snuggled into his warm flannel sheets and turned out the light. The windows of the little cottage were drafty; he would need to find something to seal them before winter settled in. The moonlight made odd patterns against the uneven plaster walls. Just before he fell asleep, he cleared his mind. Even though he was living as a Muggle, he continued to practice Occulmency. He had no doubt that Voldemort was looking for him, and he was not going to let their mind link help in any way; his life and the baby’s life depended on it.

*~*~*~*
Harry peered through the window of a medium sized shop. There was a “Part Time Help Wanted – Inquire Within” sign tucked into the corner of the brightly decorated window. It was a hobby and fabric shop. The slight wizard looked at all the Christmas decorations and the holiday gift ideas displayed within, mildly surprised that he had not realized Christmas was a month away.

A slightly chubby woman in her early seventies ran the shop – Anne Campbell. Stepping inside from the cold November morning, Harry could see tables of brightly colored fabric and a wall filled with skeins of yarn in every color imaginable. The aisles were filled with craft kits, model airplane and automobile kits, silk flowers and artificial greenery, painting kits, unfinished decorative items to paint and do-it-yourself framing supplies. He couldn’t believe so much was stuffed inside the building.

He paused beside a display with a sign reading “Classes available – please see Anne for further information”. His eyes ran over floral wreaths, painted birdhouses, knitted baby sweaters, crochet afghans and finally rested on a baby-sized quilt. It was a brightly colored jumble of fabrics and featured appliquéd cats and owls.

“May I help you?” The owner asked pleasantly.

“That quilt…is it for sale?”

“Oh no, dear. It’s a sample for the beginning appliqué class.

“Oh,” said Harry disappointed. The little fabric owls reminded him of Hedwig. “Is it hard to do? Ap-appliqué?”

Anne smiled at the young woman. “Can you sew?”

“Just buttons and simple repairs.”

“Doesn’t take much more skill than that – just practice on keeping the stitches even. Are you interested in signing up for a class? They start in January. I could see if there are any openings.”

Harry pushed back his long hair nervously. “Well actually…I’m wondering about the job.”

*~*~*~*
TBC