Bonds of Pain

Bonds of Pain

Chapter 2- Week three, in which we have a rescue

Severus was trying to concentrate on his lesson plans for third-year Potions work for the upcoming term, but he could not keep his mind on the subject. He kept worrying about his godson. Instead of the weekly reports he usually got from Lucius' boy over the summer, he hadn't had a single owl in three weeks, Something was wrong with Draco, and Lucius wouldn't tell him.

~Damn my Gryffindor tendencies!~ the dour man repeated to himself for the sixth time that morning. Throwing down his quill, the Potions Master stalked from his rooms and towards the gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster's office.

"Green M&Ms," he growled at the statue, which slid aside to reveal the spiral stairs to Dumbledore's private tower. Barely had he tapped on the door before Albus ushered him in.

"Lemon drop, Severus?" the older man asked, a tin of the sweets in hand.

"Thank you." Snape took a candy distractedly. "I haven't heard anything from young Mr. Malfoy since the end of term, and I'm beginning to be worried. Usually I've had three owls from him by this time. And Lucius avoids my questions about my godson."

"Indeed. One might wonder if he has done something to anger his father?" Snape nearly beat his head against the desk in frustration. How could Albus be so calm?

"The only thing he could do to make Lucius deny him contact with me is..." Then it hit him. ~Draco... my boy must have refused the Dark Mark...~ Severus' sharp intake of breath caused Dumbledore's eyes to twinkle, manipulative old man that he was. The lean Potions Master jumped from his seat. "Excuse me, Albus. It seems I must save my godson from himself this time."

Harry's visions of his year-mate had continued. It would have been hard for Harry to be sure who the boy was if it wasn't for the presence of the elder Malfoy during most of the beatings and his constant diatribe aimed at his son.

~God, did I misjudge Malfoy...~ Harry thought. He would find Mal- no, Draco when he got on the train back to school--if he got on the train at all, which didn't seem too likely at this point--and he was going to have a long talk with the other boy. After apologizing, of course.

~And if I've been wrong about Draco Malfoy, then perhaps Professor Snape isn't really a slimy, evil git. And maybe he really is loyal to Dumbledore.~ Harry turned in the small cupboard and bit back a cry of pain. He definitely had a broken arm and leg, and probably several cracked ribs. He was trying to keep the limbs fairly straight so they wouldn't heal wrong, but he wasn't even sure they were healing at all. He wasn't being fed, after all, and he barely got any water. Even to himself, he felt like a living furnace, and he could only hope help came soon

Draco huddled in the corner of the dark storeroom, manacles on his wrists and ankles making sure he couldn't leave the room. Starting, he realized he'd gone into another of those odd visions. He kept seeing a familiar black-haired boy locked in a small cubby, even more beaten and injured as he was. Green eyes drifted across his vision, and he stiffened painfully. Could it be... Potter? The boy in the tiny cupboard, starving and beaten within a shred of his life was the Boy Who Lived? Then a fragment of the last vision floated to the surface.

~God, did I misjudge Malfoy...~

If Potter--no, Harry--had been wrong about him, then he had been wrong as well. Maybe they had more in common than fame and wealth. More as in families that didn't care about them as people, that beat them when they didn't live up to expectations.

~Hell, maybe I have more in common with Weasley and Granger as well.~ Draco's head jerked to face the door as he heard a surprised shout from outside.

"STUPEFY!!!" a familiar and welcome voice shouted, and Draco's heart leaped as he heard a body hit the floor. A key rattled in the lock, and, with several curse words, his godfather slipped through the door, wand in hand.

"Uncle Sev..." Draco croaked, his throat sore from screaming. The professor's eyes widened at the state of his student.

"Dear stars above... Draco, I'm so sorry I didn't come sooner!" The normally reserved Snape rushed to cradle his battered, but unbroken, godson.

"'Sokay, Uncle Sev," Draco said, his voice low so it wouldn't carry or hurt as bad. "Harry's worse than me." He was going to get Harry away from those damned Muggles!

Severus blinked as he scooped Draco up in his arms. "Who? Come on, let's get you back to the castle and into Madam Pomfrey's care." He could only be talking about Hogwarts. Good, Harry would be safe there.

"We gotta help Harry first, Uncle Sev. He shouldn't have gone back to those Muggles, and he won't last much longer there. He never should have gone to them in the first place." Draco wormed his way out of the older man's arms. He wasn't that bad off.

"Harry who, Draco? And how would you know?" Severus looked at the blond boy in total confusion. Draco sighed in frustration and rolled his eyes.

"Potter, of course. What other Harry do I know that lives with Muggles? Can we just get him now? I'll explain later." Snape nodded, an odd look on his sallow face.

"Accio Draco's wand," he muttered, twitching his own and raising a hand in the door's general direction. A moment later, a familiar piece of mahogany smacked into his godfather's left hand, and the man turned and handed it to him.

~Good. I didn't know where that was.~ Wands in hand, the pair sprinted from the manor and into the woods, stopping only briefly to touch before disappearing with a small pop.