Chapter Text
Harry stepped forward, raising a skeptical brow as he looked across the crate at the seller. The merchant chuckled, and proclaimed, “You seem skeptical but I promise, you’ll love this.”
“I better,” Harry warned, running his hand impatiently through messy black hair. “I canceled other plans for this. You’ll be compensating me for my time one way or another tonight.”
The merchant chuckled again– somewhat nervously. He rubbed his hands together, and raised his wand. The top of the crate dissolved. Harry’s eyes widened and his eyebrows rose just a fraction.
Inside the crate, nestled into custom shaped, silk lined packaging and posed like a doll, was Draco Malfoy. Harry’s old school rival was wearing a sheer gown, a thick black collar, and nothing else. Silky platinum blonde hair was pulled forward and draped over his shoulders. Beautiful gray-blue eyes stared at nothing.
For a moment Harry thought he was looking at a doll, or chillingly, a dead body. Then he spotted the subtle rise and fall of Draco ’s chest. Harry looked up at the merchant, his expression mildly perplexed and a little annoyed. “What is this?” It was a little difficult for Harry to downplay his surprise.
Just three years after the battle for Hogwarts against Voldemort’s forces, Draco Malfoy had gone missing from the home he shared with his mother. Missing for six years, and here he was.
“When you agreed to come to my celebration and auction tonight, I knew I had to show you what just came to my collection. This one was procured from one of those so-called Death Eater hunters. From what I understand, he was quite antagonistic to you back in school? I heard he even broke your nose.”
Harry scoffed. That was putting it lightly. Though, by this telling of the story he supposed these people were unaware of Harry saving Draco’s life during the battle for Hogwarts and Draco saving Harry under the watch of Bellatrix and Draco’s own father, Lucious. Harry stuffed one hand in his pocket. “Yes, and I wouldn’t mind breaking him in return.”
The Merchant laughed again. The sound of it was really starting to grate on Harry’s nerves. “Of course you would. Though, unfortunately, that privilege will go to his buyer.”
“He’s going into the auction tonight?”
“Yes, if he isn’t sold at the asking price by the start of the auction the price will drop and the bidding will commence.”
Harry stroked his chin, a small smirk gracing his features. “And you thought you’d do me the favor of offering him to me before anyone else?”
The Merchant bowed. “Of course. Given your personal history…”
“But I don’t even know what else is for sale?” Harry reached into the crate and ran a thumb over Draco ’s bottom lip. “Settling scores from school days is fine, but what if there are some other beauties on display?”
“Oh… oh, no. This one is the only beauty I have tonight. I have gathered artifacts of the war tonight.”
Harry looked up sharply at that. “What do you mean?”
The merchant gestured to the surrounding crates. “Death Eater’s masks, wands, and robes. Debris, said to be from the castle. The skull from a giant felled that day on Hogwarts grounds. And this,” He gestured to Draco. “A genuine, live, former Death Eater. He’s a little marked up from his time with the death eater hunters, and It’s a shame he ruined the Dark Mark,” the merchant said, indicating the scarring over Draco’s left forearm. Harry frowned. Calling Draco’s well publicized attempts on his own life “ruining” the dark mark, sat with Harry about as well spoiled milk. “But still,” the merchant continued, “he’s quite pretty otherwise.” The merchant’s eyes were bright and he was gesturing wildly as he imagined the possibilities.
“The buyer can take him and lock him away, make him a servant, keep him as a pet, or even just leave him like this and put him on display. As long as one fed him replenishing potions by spell, he should stay quite beautiful for a good few years before he starts to show wrinkles. Or…” He gave Harry a sly look. “You could break him… if the rumors are true about your tastes, I’m sure if he survives, you’d be left with a loyal pet. He’s already been well ‘trained’ by the previous owner, if you catch my meaning.”
Harry let out a laugh. “And where did you hear about my tastes?” Harry asked, breezing past the part about a previous owner. The thought of what Draco must have gone through gave him chills, but he had to set that aside for now.
The Merchant shrugged. “The whores off Knockturn Alley are quite loose-lipped, I’m afraid. Especially about celebrities. They are talented though. I see why you would visit them.”
Quite talented at making up stories, Harry thought. If Draco survived? What on earth were these rumors? Harry had been to see exactly one of those girls on occasion, and only for information. Apparently this was how she explained his presence.
He decided to roll with it and smirked. "Well, I do think there was a slight exaggeration, and I will have to have a word with that Madam. But…”
“And over here, we do have a bonus, if you’re interested. He wasn’t going into the auction, but… since you are interested in the father…”
Harry’s heart dropped as he watched the merchant move to a smaller box. He removed the lid, and inside was a small child. He was posed like Draco, but sleeping, and appeared to be merely two or three years old. He wore a similar collar to Draco’s. Harry looked at the child’s silvery blonde curls, and then back toward Draco. “You’ve guessed correctly,” The merchant said happily.
Harry didn’t bother pointing out he’d already called Draco the father. “What’s his name?”
“Doesn’t have one, that could be another fun thing for you to some up with if you chose. I’m sure you could enjoy both–”
“Do I look like a man who enjoys touching or harming kids?” Harry asked coldly.
“N-no! I only.. I only meant they are lovely as a matched set,” the merchant said hastily.
“Hmm,” Harry ran a hand over the little boy's hair, surreptitiously checking for pulse and fever. “I will take them. I like the idea of breaking Malfoy while I raise his kid as a perfect servant.”
The Merchant all but jumped for joy and clapped his hands. He clapped Harry on the back, and said, “Good! Good! Let us retire to my office to draw up the paperwork, and then at the end of the auction, my servants will have him ready for transport.”
“Excellent.”
The lid to the crate reappeared, and Draco was shut in darkness once more. His mind was reeling. At first when the crate had opened, and he’d seen Harry, an odd flutter of hope had sprung in his chest. It was quickly dashed as the men spoke about his fate however, and despair seemed to press in along with this utter darkness.
As he lay there, unable to even begin to guess how much time had passed, he suddenly felt himself jostled a bit. He closed his eyes briefly. He was being moved again. Harry and the merchant must have agreed on a price. Hopefully Harry was really going to buy his son as well. Even if they were separated, Harry had said he was going to raise him as a servant. Surely, that would still be better than whatever may happen to him in someone else’s hands.
Surely… but still, as the lid disappeared once more, and as the bright lights of the merchant’s office seared Draco’s unblinking eyes, it was fear that filled Draco more than any other emotion.
“Draco, stand up.”
Draco did, pulling himself up out of the box with shaking limbs, and swaying in place as he fixed his eyes on the ground. He had been still for over a week, and his every muscle felt like jelly. He held his hands clasped in front of himself.
The long white blonde hair, his unsteady stance, and the sheer gown had an eerie effect, Harry thought. Draco looked almost like a ghost.
“Go on, Harry, and touch him wherever you like-just has to be skin-and I can complete the transfer of ownership. And then you can transfer me some funds.” He let out a laugh that Harry echoed.
Harry raised his hand, and placed it on Draco’s thigh, slipping Draco’s gown up just a bit to manage it. Draco’s lip trembled just a tiny bit, and his face turned just a hat from Harry. He made no other move or noise of protest. The Merchant smirked at Harry’s placement. Harry forced a wink and a smile. Neither the merchant nor Draco would realize Harry was just finding a large area of bare skin so he could read Draco’s magical signature. It was dim, but it was there, and Harry was able to confirm it was the real Draco Malfoy that Harry was touching.
Draco chanced a glance at Harry. He was wearing black robes of fine quality. They were embroidered with moons and stars in black and gray thread and stretched flatteringly across Harry’s fit body. Draco was sure they were expensive as anything he’d ever worn himself. Being so close to Harry when he was so finely dressed made suddenly aware of just how ragged he’d become. His own body was thin, sickly even, and covered in scars Harry would see once the glamours and potions wore off. The thought of Harry’s expression in that inevitable moment made Draco sick to his stomach with dread.
The merchant raised his wand. “I release my hold of Draco Malfoy, and pass him to Harry James Potter.”
Draco jerked, and Harry nearly drew back in shock as he suddenly appeared to be in pain. He drew his arms up, clawing at the collar. Draco’s legs gave out, and he fell to his knees, sobbing and clutching the back of his neck. Harry just stood there a moment, and then grabbed Draco’s wrist and pulled it from his neck. He didn’t see anything but the collar.
“He’s yours now,” The Merchant said, ignoring Draco’s outburst. “If you wouldn’t mind ordering him back into the box, he’ll be ready to go.”
“Stop crying,” Harry said. “Lay back in the box, and be still.”
Draco’s sobbing ceased after a few seconds. His expression was still distraught, but the tears stopped, though he was still taking shuddering breaths. He got up, shaking. Harry noticed he was especially careful of his right leg, and he helped Draco lay back in the box. Harry noticed Draco at least took a moment to switch to a more comfortable looking position on his side instead of his back. He chose to say nothing about it.
“It was a pleasure doing business with you!” the merchant said. “Are you sure you want to leave now? You can still stay for the rest of the auction.”
Harry laughed. “No, sir, you have quite exhausted my budget for tonight, but I appreciate the offer. I’ll be in touch about the next event.”
With that, Harry apparated away, grabbing both boxes to take in tow.
He reappeared in his office. It was darkened, and would remain so. He glanced toward the frosted window and the blurry activity going on beyond it in the auror office. Then he turned back to the boxes, and started running spells over them. Satisfied there were no tracking, eavesdropping, or any other spying spells on Draco, his son, their effects, or the boxes, Harry opened them again. Draco was still, as he was ordered to be, eyes closed inside the box. Harry drew his wand, and whispered “Finite incantatum.”
Draco was still immobile, and his son was still asleep.
Harry reached down, and gently tugged their collars. They didn’t budge.
Dread filling him, Harry said, “Malfoy,”
Draco didn’t move.
“You can move, Malfoy.”
Draco turned his head slightly and opened his eyes a bit, but was otherwise still. Harry reached into the box, and lifted Draco out. He carried Draco a short way, hastily transfiguring his rug into a soft cushion so he could lay him down a little more comfortably. Draco sighed as he was laid down. He looked tired, and scared. As Harry turned away to retrieve the child, he thought he saw Draco turn to watch him.
When Harry laid the child out beside his father, Draco turned on his side and curled a bit around the boy. Draco looked dizzy, like he may pass out. Harry raised his wand, prepared to do the diagnostic spells Hermione had ordered him to do. Draco looked up at him just as he raised his wand.
“Cru-”
Panic filled Draco, and he scrambled back. He grabbed his son, and pushed away from Harry, shielding the little boy with his body. His mind was screaming at him to stop, to remember how much worse it is when he fights back, but he couldn’t stop himself. He shook his head, breathing hard and looking for an exit.
Harry followed, startled and wand out, but hesitant to use it. He could order Draco to be still, and he was sure that would work, but Draco looked to be in a lot of pain, and he was afraid of making it worse.
"Malfoy," he said. Draco shook his head again, and launched himself past Harry's desk. He barely made it to his hands and knees and almost made it to the door, but Harry, a little panicked himself, sent out a spell that pulled Draco back by the ankle. It hurt terribly. Unknowingly, Harry had yanked Draco’s bad leg. His knee felt strained, and for one terrifying moment, the pain blinded him.
Draco screamed, and Harry was glad no one outside the room could hear them. “Malfoy–”
“Please, Potter! M-Master!” Draco begged. He twisted away from the spell pulling him to Harry’s feet. He clawed at the wood grain, and breathily, though painful gasps he begged again, “Please, don’t do it. Please. We were children . I-I was wrong. My father was wrong. My son is innocent! Please, I–”
Only then did Harry realize that Draco had heard his conversation with the seller from inside the box. He’d thought Draco had been unconscious. Harry clicked his tongue, irritated with himself. He should have explained before he even lifted Draco out of the box. His stomach turned at Draco calling him ‘Master’. As soon as Draco was close enough, Harry knelt over him, and raised his own voice as he pulled him a little roughly onto his back. Draco twisted away trying to shield the child.
“It. Was. An. Act!”
Draco didn’t react to Harry’s words at first. His arms were half raised, trying to cover his face and clutch at his ripped nightgown and hold on to the child all at once. His hair was coming down from the braids, and his tears earlier had ruined the make up Harry had only just realized was there. Beneath it, Harry saw Draco was still beautiful, but there were dark circles under his eyes, and he looked flushed in a way that seemed ill. The little boy slept on.
Harry gripped Draco’s upper arms and shook him a bit. “Draco!”
Draco stilled, and looked up at Harry, mouth open in terror, but he had gone silent.
“I’m not going to hurt you. Either of you,” Harry said firmly. He continued, a little quieter. “It’s just an act. I’m undercover.”
“What? I… they were talking about it… you quit… your friends…”
“All in on it. We needed someone with significance… I guess you would say, social and political value? I fit the bill, except I was obviously an auror. So we hyped up a few of the disagreements I’ve had with Kingsley, and publicized a ‘botched operation’ or two. I ‘let off’ a couple people…” Harry shrugged. “And then I made a show of quitting. I spent a couple months socializing, making connections… and here we are. They invited me to this last auction, and if all goes well, their whole organization goes down by the next one in six months.”
Draco looked confused, and still afraid. Harry glanced at Draco’s half-naked body, then let go, and went over to the desk. He returned with the new robes that he kept in a drawer. He brought it back to Draco, and offered it to him. Draco took it, looking at it before looking up at Harry. Then he clutched it to his chest beside the child.
“You… bought… us…”
“We’d known to fully gain the trust of these targets, I’d have to do things that looked as though I was participating, and in just as deep as they are. I knew I’d have to buy someone tonight. I didn’t know you were there. Well, you heard… they presented you to me. I also saw it as an in with the seller, and I took it.”
“So… you won’t… break me? You won’t hurt my son?”
Harry shook his head. “No. That was part of the act.”
Draco shivered. “It was convincing.” Harry wasn’t sure Draco believed him.
Harry gave a little huff of mirthless laughter, and gestured to the garment. He wasn’t sure if gestures counted as orders, but Draco gently lay down his son, and then started to strip down.
Harry turned his back to give Draco a modicum of privacy as he changed into the light robe. Nevermind his nightgown had been sheer enough Draco may as well have been naked this whole time. Harry returned, and stripped off his own cloak. He slowly– so Draco would see he meant no harm– and gently helped Draco wrap the little boy in it. Harry was shorter than Draco by a couple inches, and Draco had to lean down a little for Harry to manage it.
“What’s his name?” Harry asked gently. The merchant had said the boy had none, but Harry didn’t believe that.
Draco looked up at Harry warily, then swallowed before he whispered, “S-Scorpius.”
Harry smiled. “Suits him.”
Draco’s lips twitched like he was thinking of smiling, but just couldn’t manage it. He bit his lower lip instead. Harry’s spare robes were a little large on Draco’s thin frame, though Harry was sure they’d also be too short. He also looked a little odd to Harry in black. The few times Harry had seen Draco before the disappearance, Harry couldn’t recall seeing Draco in black at all. Not since Hogwarts.
Harry was afraid to say anything that sounded like an order. Draco had sunk back to his knees, and was looking down at the floor, rocking him and his son back and forth slightly. He looked so tired. If Harry told him to sleep, would he fall asleep? What if Harry told him to wake up? Harry stroked his chin, then looked at his watch. Hermione would be there soon.
He waved his wand, and a paper plane flew from his wand tip and disappeared in the empty fireplace with a burst of green flame. It was a message warning Hermione who she was going to be treating, that there was more than one victim, and that one of them was a child.
Harry hoped asking questions was allowed.
“Draco,” Harry ventured. Draco looked up at him with tired eyes. “What do you know about this?” Harry tapped the collar.
Draco shrugged. “I… My father used to own it. It was in his collection a long time. I only knew he threatened certain people with it. He got rid of it when I was a kid.” Draco hugged his son, hunching his shoulders. “I wish Weasley’s father had taken it in one of those raids.”
Harry nodded. “Do you know the limits? Like, are there loopholes that we can use?” Harry asked.
Draco shook his head. “Mast–” He turned bright red, and stumbled over his words. “Ma-st… th… that man… the man who…” He swallowed, stroking Scorpius’s hair. “He gave me very direct orders. The man you took me from almost didn’t talk to me at all except for giving me orders. I don’t know.”
Harry nodded. “Thank you. I have Hermione on her way. She’s a healer now. Maybe she’ll help us figure out a way to test it.”
Draco nodded. He closed his eyes, and continued his rocking.
Harry wanted to tell him to get some sleep. Instead he asked, “Are you tired?”
“Yes,” Draco said, his voice barely a whisper.
“It’s not a problem if you sleep until Hermione gets here.”
“Th… there’s something in the potion they gave me… It keeps me awake.”
“Which potion?”
Draco shook his head. He looked like he may cry. “The man who sold me to you forced it down my throat.”
“How long have you been up?”
“Days… May…maybe a week.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Scorpius’s hair. “It hurts… and Scorpius hasn’t woken at all. He hasn't eaten in a week.” Tears welled in Draco’s eyes, but he looked to the ceiling and blinked them back. “Please… please help him, Mast–”
“Don’t call me that.”
Draco’s mouth snapped shut, eyes wide. “I’m sorry,” he whispered after a moment, going bright red and dropping his gaze to Scorpius again.
“Damn it,” Harry whispered. Draco was in no shape to understand. Harry should have let it pass and clarified later. He ran a hand through his hair again. Draco shifted on the hardwood floor. Harry reached over, and dragged the plush cushion over. “No, I’m sorry, Draco.” He patted the cushion, and Draco, catching his meaning, crawled back onto it with Scorpius. “Water?” Harry offered.
“Yes, please.” Draco caught the cup Harry summoned, and drained it twice over. He handed the glass back to Harry, who set it on his desk.
Harry looked down at Scorpius. “Do you know where his mother may be?”
“He…” Draco blushed deeper than ever. “He doesn't have…”
“What?”
Draco's face crumpled, and he put a hand over his own stomach. Then he looked anxiously back at Harry. His meaning was clear, but Harry was still trying to wrap his mind around it. Did such magic exist? Surely, it did, and here was the proof before him, but… He’d never heard of such a thing.
“I… H-he…” Draco stuttered, hugging his child.
Harry leaned over, and placed a hand on Draco’s shoulder. Draco pulled away, and Harry drew his hand back, “Sorry. I was just going to say you don’t need to tell me everything right now. Really you don’t have to talk about anything you’re uncomfortable with. If you’ll consent, we can draw your memories and use them instead of you having to testify to anything. I mean, you should probably still talk about it… but to a professional. When you’re ready.”
Draco nodded. “I.. yes. You can take the memories.”
“Okay,” Harry nodded.
All the fight and energy had gone from Draco. Exhaustion was taking over, with pain creeping back in at the edges. The fireplace beside Draco flared to life, and Draco yelped, heart hammering as the green flames rose. A figure appeared in the heart of the flames.
“It’s alright,” Harry said hurriedly. A woman stepped onto the rug, brushing ash from her robes. Hermione looked up at Harry, smiling.
“Harry,” She stepped forward, and Harry embraced her.
“Hey, ‘Moine. Come here,”
He took her hand and led her a little further from Draco, and said quietly, “Hermione, he says he gave birth to the kid.”
Hermione’s eyes widened. “What?”
“That’s what he says.”
Hermione looked over at him. “I’ll have a look. See what’s going on. But I’ve never heard of that before.”
Hermione drew back, placing a hand on Harry’s cheek. She and Ron had been remarkably understanding about Harry’s undercover work. Always willing to help, playing their parts as spurned ex-friends well in public, but Harry knew they hated the character he played. Hermione especially hated how much time Harry was spending in that mindset and always made time to come over and make sure she brought him out of it as much as possible. “You need to shave,” She remarked, running a hand over his scruff.
He stroked his chin with a smile, and asked her, “Where’s Ron?”
“Oh, getting some things from Mrs. Weasley for you to use for them here. She’s dying for this whole thing to be over. She keeps talking about the haircut she can’t wait to give you.”
Harry laughed, running a hand through the shaggy mess. It wasn’t that bad, he thought. Just curling over his collar and such. It wasn’t long enough to even manage a ponytail yet. “Well, when you get a chance, let her know it’ll be the first thing I do. Actually,” Harry glanced at Draco. His hair looked like it hadn’t been so much as trimmed since he’d been taken. It hung nearly to his ass, and Harry suspected it needed some care once the spells and potions that kept it pretty wore off. “He may want one, when he’s on the mend,” Harry said.
Draco jumped at being addressed. He was hunched over Scorpius, clearly in pain. Hermione turned to him, and that’s when Draco saw the St. Mungo’s logo on her chest. She really was a healer.
“Hello, Draco.”
Draco nodded politely, but said nothing. He could hardly meet her eyes. All his courage was gone. She sat beside him, drawing her wand. “Harry, did you run the diagnostic like I asked?”
“Ah, no. I was about to when he had a… er, he...panicked a bit.”
“I’m sorry,” Draco breathed, realizing.
“It’s alright,” Hermione tried to assure him with a smile. “I’m going to start the spell now. It takes a moment, so why don’t you lie down?” She held her arms out to take Scorpius.
Draco hesitated, but handed his child over. She was a healer, he told himself. It would be fine.
“That’s good,” Hermione encouraged. “Now, just lie back. Don’t worry about the position. Just make yourself comfortable.”
Draco did as he was told. He curled on his side and closed his eyes. Harry had done an excellent job on his transfiguration. For the first time in a long time, Draco was warm, and though he didn’t quite feel it, he was told he was safe. For now. He glanced at Harry. Harry could change Draco’s situation whenever he wanted now. Draco raised a hand and ran his fingers over the collar.
He shivered as he felt some type of magic passing over him.
“Harry, please go to the safehouse, and add a bed for the little one.”
“Oh, sure.”
Draco listened to Harry’s boots thump off across the hardwood, and breathed a small sigh of relief when he heard the door shut. “You’re afraid of Harry?”
Draco stiffened. How could he forget himself like that? Hermione was one of Harry’s closest friends. His heart hammered in his chest. Would she tell him?
“I don’t like Harry’s… dark persona either,” Hermione said.
Draco glanced at her. Her bushy hair– the thing he remembered most about her, was tamed in a long plait down her back. Her face was calm, and non-judgemental. She even bounced Scorpius on her hip as he slept. Draco had been afraid she would harbor a grudge from their school days. Though, he supposed he looked rather pathetic. Perhaps her pity outweighed her ire. He was surprised he could even feel shame anymore, but heat rose into his cheeks all the same.
It was only after a few moments Draco realized he hadn’t answered her. “It.. his act was… convincing,”
“It is,” Hermione said sadly. “What is this little one’s name?”
“Scorpius.” Draco whispered.
Something hummed, and Draco closed his eyes again. He was so tired.
“Ah,” Hermione said. “There it is."
Draco opened his eyes and looked at her, a little nervous.
She smiled at him. "Give me a few minutes, some of this will take longer, but there are a few things I can take care of now. Principal among them being this one that's keeping you awake. You can sleep as soon as I reverse it. Ron should be here soon with clothes for you and Scorpius, so you can bathe and change again then."
Draco could cry. He desperately wanted to sleep, though, if he was honest, there was a fear that he was already dreaming. None of it seemed real. Harry, the golden boy coming to save him. Hermione, Harry’s friend, who Draco had mercilessly mocked through school was here healing him. Apparently even Ron was off somewhere collecting supplies to help them.
Hermione waved her wand, and started chanting. Her voice took on a strange melodic quality, like she was singing him a lullaby. Draco's mind grew hazy. His body grew heavier.
"That's it. Get some sleep, Draco. When you wake, you and your son will be in a safe place. Do I have your permission to continue healing for both of you while you sleep?"
Draco nodded. He looked up at her again, a lump rising in his throat. "Thank you."
"You're welcome, Draco."
Sleep came over Draco's mind like a veil, covering his thoughts in haze. Everything was dulled, even the pain, and then it all went dark.
…
Draco woke up feeling warm and mostly comfortable as he laid on his stomach. This was enough of a shock to bring him to full alertness. His first thought was Scorpius. Draco tried to sit up, but his body felt heavy and weak. He shook with the effort. He managed to get to his elbows, and spotted him in another smaller bed a short way away. Scorpius was sleeping still. Draco wanted to get up and retrieve him. They’d never slept apart if Draco could help it before, but Draco was too weak, and as long as Scorpius was safe, that would have to suffice for now. He laid back down.
He lifted his head, and looked around. He hadn’t known what to expect. The legs of furniture maybe, if they gave him a dog bed to sleep in like his previous master sometimes did, or a cage, or maybe… if they’d been telling the truth… a hospital room. But he appeared to be in a bedroom. He was in a king size canopy bed, the blankets pulled to his neck. There was a nightstand beside him. A small glass orb sat atop the surface, glowing a soft bluish color that reminded Draco of the moon. He stared at the light for a while. It had been a long time since he’d even seen the sky, let alone the moon.
Draco jumped when there was a soft knock. He turned, and saw Hermione standing in a doorway. She was backlit from a hallway. She walked toward Draco’s bedside, and placed a hand on the orb. It dimmed even more.
“Hello, Draco.”
“Hello,” Draco said after a moment.
“You’re in a safehouse. This space was prepared knowing Harry was going to have to ‘buy’ someone. How did you sleep?”
Draco shrugged with a small laugh. “Best I’ve had in literal years.”
She pulled down his blanket, and prodded at something on his back. “I’m glad. It’s been almost 24 hours. I had time to leave and come back. Oh,” She paused as he twitched under her hand. “I’ve put a salve on. For the scarring. As well as some open wounds here. It’s about done for today. Scorpius should be waking soon, too.”
Draco’s head snapped off his pillow again. “Really?”
“Yes. He was under the effects of the draft of living death, but luckily, I had an antidote ready due to an incident at work. I have Harry preparing some safe foods for you both.”
Draco’s eyes filled with tears again. He sniffed, covering his mouth. “Thank you…” He said. His shoulders shook. “Thank you.”
“Of course, you’re very welcome, Draco.”
“I’m sorry,”
“For what? It’s alright,” Hermione reached down, and stroked the back of his head. Draco realized they must have cleaned him in his sleep. His hair was free of tangles and knots, and in a French braid that laid over his back.
“F-for everything… and not just… I knew before they took me. I owed you an apology. I owe a lot of people… but… I was a coward. As usual.”
“Oh, Draco.” Hermione sat down on the bed beside Draco. “It’s past. It's all in the past.”
Draco nodded, trying to stop the tears. “Yes.”
Hermione patted his shoulder. “Alright. Go ahead and turn on your side, please.”
Draco did, turning to face her. She moved the blankets down further, and gently lifted the shirt Draco was dressed in. Draco closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see her face as she looked at the terrible scars there.
She made no mention of them though as she gently touched his stomach near the top of his pelvic region under his stomach—where Scorpius had been removed from his belly. He opened his eyes and watched her run her fingers from one end of the scar to the other and realized her eyes were closed, and she was moving her wand along with her hand.
She opened her eyes, brow slightly furrowed, then gave him a kind smile. “To be frank, I’m checking if the womb Scorpius came from is still there. If it is, I think it’s best we remove it. Your body just doesn’t have the room, and it will be best for your recovery if your energy isn’t going to maintaining an extra organ.”
Draco swallowed. He searched her tone for hints of judgment or scorn. He just couldn’t be sure. He nodded stiffly, avoiding her eye. “Yes,” he said. Truthfully, he also wanted it gone. Not that he had plans to have sex any time soon—or ever again, really—but Draco was terrified by the idea of being pregnant again.
Hermione replaced Draco’s shirt and stood up straight. “Go on and sit up if you can. I’m going to bring Harry in for another test if that’s alright with you, and then we’ll be able to make up a plan going forward.”
Draco nodded again, nervously. He pushed up on shaking arms. He wasn’t sure what Hermione had done, but it was much easier this time. Draco sat up with his back to the headboard. Hermione waved her wand again, and a tray appeared over Draco’s lap with a glass of water on top. Draco looked at it curiously, and up at Hermione.
She smiled. “I’ll explain in a moment.”
Harry entered the room after a moment or two. He’d changed into muggle clothes instead of the rich black robes he’d been wearing. His hair was swept back from his forehead, and a bit damp from a shower. He walked to Draco’s other side, and sat down in a desk chair Draco hadn’t noticed before.
“Hello…” Draco wasn’t sure how to greet Harry. He said not to call him Master, but all the rest had made him call them that. Maybe he preferred Sir? Or…
Harry nodded, but said nothing. He looked to Hermione.
“Right,” Hermione said. “This is an experiment, Draco. Harry told me a bit about the collar. I will be researching it outside work and caring for you and Scorpius. In the meantime though, all I’ve been able to find is some obscure literature that suggests it may cause you harm to be separated from Harry. Besides that… This safe house is actually a part of Harry’s house. It’s protected by the fidalius, as well as other ancient spells. He’s going to be around, and popping in and out to work anyway.
“The goal here is to find some limits. We’re going to test what the collar does and doesn’t make you do, and how that process takes shape.”
Draco was getting nervous but he nodded.
“I’ll also be performing various tests directly on the collar, but those can wait. For your part in these tests, Draco, I need you to try and resist whatever Harry suggests or orders. If it causes you pain or discomfort, just do it, but signal me somehow or let me know so I can make note of it and I’ll make Harry reverse it.”
Draco nodded again. He looked nervously at Harry, and Harry offered him a half smile and a shrug.
“Go ahead, Harry,” Hermione said. A parchment and quill were hovering beside her, ready to take notes.
Harry sat up a little straighter. “Pick up the glass.”
Draco did. He lifted the glass, and held it a moment, and then he put it down.
“Do you experience any pain when an order is given?” Hermione asked.
“No? It’s…. Like it’s a thought that comes from my own head. I know it’s not… but there’s… sometimes it’s like an itch… or a tug I guess. Like when I get told to do something, and I have to keep doing it in the background behind other orders, it starts to feel like something very bad will happen if I stop… even if it hurts or I’m tired, I just know it will be worse if I fail.”
Harry seemed to think of something, and beckoned Hermione closer. She circled to him, and he whispered in her ear. She nodded. “We’ll sort it later, Harry. For now, go ahead and continue.”
Harry nodded, and said, “Pick up the water.”
Draco picked up the glass again, and held it a moment, then put it down.
“Orders aren’t taken too literally,” Hermione muttered. For that, Draco was glad. He imagined if he’d been compelled to scoop the water from the glass into his hand.
Harry patted the bed, and when Draco looked at him, he mouthed, “Pick up the water,”
Draco felt the tug, but hesitated reaching for the water. He was supposed to resist, Hermione said. The tug became a sharp jab at his psyche, and he picked up the glass with a small whimper.
Harry got his attention again, but this time Harry covered his mouth. Draco didn’t hear anything, and he didn’t do anything. Then from behind his hand still, Harry said, “Pick up the glass.” Draco did.
They ran through quite a few of these types of scenarios, and even Draco was surprised to learn some of the limits of the collar. He hadn’t thought much about it since he hadn’t had any choice until now. “Why don’t you pick up the glass, Draco?” Harry asked.
Draco shrugged.
“Don’t you want to pick up the glass?”
Draco did nothing, but he shook his head.
“Draco, shrink by three inches.”
Draco blinked. He looked at Harry, confused.
“Damn,” Harry said with a smile. “That one would have been nice.” Hermione swatted him on the back of the head as he laughed. Then he schooled his features back to something passive and said, “I want the water.”
Nothing. Draco was able to ignore it. That one surprised him. He supposed it was just his fear that made him jump to fulfill spoken desires as commands.
Harry looked relieved by it as well. “Turn the glass upside down, but don’t spill the water.”
Draco hesitated, and then picked up and drank the water. Then he turned over the cup.
“Keep both hands together until the end of the test.”
Draco clasped his hands as if praying.
“Pick up the water.”
Draco awkwardly wrapped an arm around the water and lifted it.
“Pick up the water using your hands.”
Draco sort of jerked toward the water, his hands twitching. He gritted his teeth, his eyes filled with tears and he looked up at Hermione.
“Harry, drop the order about the hands.”
“Draco you don’t need to keep your hands clasped.”
Relieved, Draco released his hands, and then promptly picked up the water.
Hermione hummed interestedly. “So contradicting orders cause discomfort?” Draco shrugged.
“I-I suppose so. It was more like… every time I tried to pick up the water, the other order would…it felt like... it hurt… more than… than it was uncomfortable.”
“I’m sorry, Draco. Just a few more, and I’ll have Harry bring you your food.”
He nodded.
Hermione gestured for Harry to continue.
“Go to sleep,” Harry said.
Draco adjusted to lay down, and closed his eyes. “You’re still awake?” Hermione asked.
“Yes,” Draco whispered.
“Get back up.”
Draco did.
“Draco from the next time I say your name, do not follow any order I give you until I say Hermione’s name.”
Draco nodded hesitantly. He was very curious how this one would work. It could be a nice work around and give Draco a facsimile of freedom at least.
“Draco, Pick up the water.”
Draco’s hand twitched toward the glass, but he was able to pull back.
“ Pick up the water .” Harry repeated, suddenly sounding impatient.
This time he managed to hold still.
“Draco, pick up the water!” Harry rose to his feet, yelling right in Draco’s face.
Draco jumped, cried out, and lifted an arm to shield himself, looking terrified. "I'm sorry!"
"It's alright, Draco." Hermione paused in her note taking to rest a hand on Draco's shoulder.
Harry sat down. “Sorry,” he said. “I was just raising my voice for the test.”
Draco swallowed, and said nothing.
“Tell ‘Moine if you need to take a break, alright?”
“Yes…”
“Pick up the water.”
Draco did. So it appeared Draco could be given conditional orders, but he had to clearly understand the condition both when it was set and when it was enacted–he understood Hermione’s nickname as the signal to resume following orders, but when the test was repeated, Harry instead said that Draco would resume following orders when Harry gave Draco a vitamin. A few moments later when Harry handed Draco the little muggle gummy, Draco looked at it, back to Harry, and didn’t follow Harry’s next order.
Hermione had Harry try a few more combinations. Draco could not be given directly contradicting orders. Neither would fully be done. He could not be ordered to feel emotions, nor change his opinions. Nor could he be given impossible orders. He could not complete tasks he did not already possess some skill in, though he could and would physically push himself to try. He would become stressed if he didn’t know the task was impossible, because he would keep trying, and his urge to follow the order grew stronger. He could not be ordered to hurt Harry if Draco was aware that would be the outcome. He did manage to accidentally hurt Harry because he’d never heard of the simple muggle trick of snapping elastics against one’s skin. This, however, had caused a panic attack that ended their tests.
As Harry reared back, cursing and shaking out his hand, Draco tried to follow, his hands out toward the injury. “I-I’m so sorry!” He said, dropping the elastic. “P-please… I’m sorry! I-I didn’t… I… I..”
“Draco, it’s alright,” Hermione tried to calm him down, but he reared back from her touch, nearly falling off the bed.
“It’s okay, Draco, I ordered you to do it,” Harry said.
“No!” Draco covered his head. Harry started to circle the bed to help, but Draco's eyes darted from Harry to Scorpius, and he reached for Harry's sleeve.
"No! I-I'm sorry! Please, punish me . I… I… my son is– Mas–" Draco flinched as though struck. Harry's order from earlier had jabbed at his mind and made him stop. He clung to Harry's sleeve. "I'm sorry. S-sir?" Draco cringed back, releasing Harry’s sleeve. Harry's face told him quite clearly this was also wrong. "I… I…"
Hermione waved her wand, and the cup, which had spilled, filled with a silvery liquid that Harry recognized. Hermione looked up at Harry, and gestured to the cup. Harry said "Draco, drink what's in the cup."
Draco turned, and downed the contents of the cup. Almost as soon as he finished, his eyelids dropped. He dropped the cup and slumped over. Hermione caught him before he fell off the bed. He tried, and failed to lift himself off of her shoulder.
"It's alright. You're okay. Rest now. We'll wake you when it's time to eat."
Draco muttered something incoherent, his face screwed up as if in pain. Harry knelt before him, and looked into his clouded gray eyes as he said, "It's okay to cry, Draco. And until the next time I say your last name, you do not need to follow any of my orders."
Undoing his unintentional standing order from earlier, Harry was relieved to see Draco's face relax a bit. He let the tears fall, leaning on Hermione as he sniffled and then fell asleep. Harry stood upright and said, "I'll be in my office."
Hermione nodded. She was stroking Draco's hair again. An odd sight to be sure. Earlier when he asked her why she was giving him so much comfort of this kind she said, "if it weren't for your investigation, he'd be in rehab somewhere with his mum glued to his side. Instead he's here. Still basically locked up somewhere he can't leave for probably months at least. I figure the least we can do is offer a little comfort."