A Slave's Freedom
Warnings; enslavement, abuse, language, mentions of rape, suicide attempts both past and future,self-harm...basically anything.
Disclaimer; don't own anything despite how much I would like to :(
He couldn't help but sniffle as he fingered the cold metal collar that was fastened around his neck, its silver surface greedily drinking the blood that ran from a cut above his eyebrow. It wasn't particularly deep, but then again, head wounds always bled a lot. The door to the SUV opened; a meaty hand latched onto the back of his neck and roughly yanked him out.
"C'mon, boy." The large man jerked him forward. Harry loathed himself when he followed submissively. He didn't used to be like this. Wasn't always a good little slave. When his uncle had first put the monstrosity on his neck, he had put up a valiant fight. Scratching, punching, hitting, he fought tooth and nail for three months. Three agonizingly long months. Slowly, his spirit broke, and he finally succumbed to his slavery. Soon, all too soon, the lithe, strong Harrrison James Potter became the weak, broken and unbearably skinny Harry. Slave, and now a gift for the wealthy teen high up in the Hierarchy. Another tear fell. It always depressed him, thinking about who he had been, and who he was now. Giving a soundless sniffle-he had learned quickly that his Master's didn't like any sound from him unless they were using him for their little toy, of course. Then they liked his sobbing. He tucked an errant strand of dirtied raven hair behind a delicate ear. It was long; falling limply down to his butt. His captors liked it. Made him more girly, they said. He actually didn't mind the hair, though. Not because it pleased his Masters, heavens no! But because if he ever got away, it would serve as a reminder for the hardships he went through. Because in his mind, nothing was as terrible as getting your identity, your free will, and your right to live taken away. He refused to come out of this as the same person he was when he went in. He would come out changed. It didn't matter, he guessed, because so far things were not looking so good. The collars that were slowly creeping their way around the world were voice-activated. It made it so that the only person who could take a collar off of a slave was the one who first collared him or her. Vernon was the one who put the ghastly thin around his neck. Vernon, who was now dead. So Harry's rights were taken away. He was no longer considered a human being. Now, he was a possession. A thing that was traded and bought as if he wasn't a living, breathing thing. But that wasn't what had broken his spirit, either. No, it was the one dark secret that had been carefully hidden away until Vernon, as a last attempt to break his nephew, had whispered in his ear with his last dying breath.
'James Potter' Vernon had said 'was the one who started it all.'
Harry had completely shut down, his mind going numb with the revelation. Apparently, James potter wasn't as 'light' as he had fooled everyone to believe. The first two victims, Harry had found after vigorous research. They had had the metal rings around their neck, had been enslaved without the world-or themselves-understanding what it meant for almost the entire duration for their lives. Now, after they had saved the world, though most didn't make the connection that they were the Gundam Pilots, the government refused to acknowledge the fact that they had been moving about freely for all of their lives. Harry had heard that their lovers had bought them, so they were able to go anywhere without supervision. He knew because he had the same collar around his own neck. He had no doubt in his mind that their lovers were doing everything they could to get the crow-begotten metal off, and Harry could only wish his hardest that they succeeded. Not so that the key to freedom was found-he deserved what he got in payment for his Father's-no, Potters mistakes and grievances, but so that the two imprisoned ex-Gundam pilots could be free again. They certainly earned it. Many times over, in fact. A harsh blow to his face sent him sprawling on the ground. Blinking, he was mildly surprised to find he was already in the conference room, lying on the carpeted floor. Looming to his left was a long rectangular table, and sitting at it's head was none other than Quatre Winner, head of the W.E.I., suspected Pilot of one of the Gundams, and gurrently looking at him with impassive eyes. Shamefully, he lowered his head, knowing better than to get up without permission.
"You remember James Potter, don't you Mister Winner?" The large man-Hanner, he was called, said in his oily voice.
"Of course. The creator of the notorious collars. Of slavery." Said not Winner, but the Chinese teen standing to his right.
Hanner beamed, puffing his chest proudly. No doubt trying to look like a proud peacock, but instead managing only to look like a constipated walrus. "And what a fine thing he created, eh?"
The blond said nothing.
Bastard Harry couldn't help but think. Hanner knew full well that it was because of James Potter that two of the pilots were enslaved. Both teens inclined their heads.
"Well this" Harry bit his lip when Hanner gave him a vicious kick to his side, but didn't protest as his body flew across the room to land with a crash against the legs of a discarded chair. Still, he lay prone, eyes staring blankly at the blue carpet that was in front of his eyes. "This is his son."
Silence followed Hanners triumphant statement.
The blond finally opened his mouth. "And?"
Surprisingly enough, Hanner wasn't phased by the emotionless word. "His voice is almost identical to his Fathers. If you give me thirty percent of W.E.I. I will give you young Harry. He can free your lover, Mister Winner. Just for thirty percent."
"Done. Wufei? The contract, please."
Harry knew instantly that Hanner should have read the contract before signing. In all likeliness, the blond just handed the large man a completely different contract, but being the highly unintelligent mound of lard that he was, Hanner went straight to the end and signed his name in a confident, messy scrawl. Harry knew he was correct when a merciless gleam crept into the sky blue eyes.
"Thank you for your business, Mister Hanner. You can expect some of my people on Monday to make sure thae transition runs smoothly."
Grinning, Hanner left with one last disgusted glance to his ex-slave.
"Oh, Mister Hanner?" Winner called.
"The man paused "Yes?"
"Who collared this boy?"
The fat man gave them an approving grin. "Want to kill him so Harry can't get free, eh? Well, you're too late. Vernon is dead. Rather glad he is, too. You see, this one didn't used to submit so sweetly, you know. Spent the first three months fighting back so furiously that at first we thought he might actually be the first one to get free-would have been a good Preventer, too. But whatever Vernon said to him before he died" Hanner gave a low whistle "Totally broke him. Don't worry, Mister Winner. He is completely submissive." He leered grossly "In every way."
Harry wanted to deny it. To snap back and fight, but he couldn't. Because as much as he hated it, what the man said was true.
Winner didn't even reply to Hanner as the large man lumbered out. A moment later, two expencive brown shoes entered Harry's field of vision, then two knees as the owner of the shoes knelt, followed by a pale, caloused hand that gently slipped under his chin and raising it. The blue eyes gazed at him, no longer expressionless but shining with concern. "Are you alright, little one?"
Harry nodded. "Yes, Master."
Hands slipped under his arms, lifting Harry to his feet.
"M-may I speak, Master?" He flinched when the words slipped out of his mouth, but it was already too late to pull them back.
"You may speak whenever you so desire, little one."
Harry froze; risking a disbelieving glance at is new masters open face. "M-master?" He choked out.
Winner smiled gently "I will not deny you your rights, Harry. And please; call me Quatre. I would very much like to be known first and foremost as a friend."
The world darkened as his breath came in quick gasps "B-b" he stuttered.
A silencing finger was placed on his lips. "How old are you, little one?"
"F-fourteen, Master Quatre."
"Just Quatre, Harry. No 'Master". I'm your friend, remember?" The blond chastised gently.
"There is a price for friendship, Master Quatre" Harry murmured "Always is."
Quatre's gaze sharpened, and the other teen-Wufei?- spoke. "What was the last price?"
He knew it! They were just pretending. "N-no! Please don't! Please don't make me-I beg you!"
"I-I'll do anything!"
"I promise! Just-"
The sharp voice made him cringe, shoulders slumping and eyes trained on his shoeless feet.
"Forgive me, Master. I had forgotten my place. What would you like me to do?"
"Nothing." Came the firm reply. A cool hand forced his gaze up and into a calm face. "I am your friend. Period, no strings attached. No requirements."
"You want me to free your friends." Harry murmured.
The blond hesitated. "Yes." He admitted "We love them very much. If your voice truly is like your father's, then that is at least a small chance that they can be free. Please, Harry Potter. Please free them."
Harry jerked back as if hit, but he ended up backing into a warm chest. Strong arms encircled him."Little one?"
It was Wufei.
"Please, master Quatre" Harry pleaded "I am no Potter. I would never create such an abomination as the collars, nor commit such acts as my…sire….did."
The arms shifted, lifting his entire body and cradling him like a child.
"Easy, Green Eyes" The blond murmured, walking forward until he was standing directly in front of him. "If you don't wish to be a Potter, Then you won't be a Potter."
Slowly, Harry relaxed, only mildly protesting when the clean fingers ran through his unwashed hair. "Master, it is dirty!" He objected.
"Hush, Harry." Quatre admonished. "Why don't you go to sleep? I will wake you when we get to the manor."
Obediently, Harry closed his eyes. The sweet release of sleep washed in with gentle waves and the soft rocking of the arms that cradled him so carefully.
"This is him? Poor kid."
"James Potter's son? He looks as if he is eleven years at most."
"He is a slave who had an abusive Master. It was to be expected."
"He is waking up, Heero."
A warm hand touched his forehead. "Fever is gone. Child? Can you open your eyes? Open your eyes, Harry."
Hesitantly, Harry did as ordered, breath catching as his eyes landed upon the form of the one and only Heero Yuy. Pilot of the Gundam Wing Zero, 'Perfect Soldier', and current Preventer. He saw the faded jeans, black tank top, and lean, intimidating muscles, completed by the piercing Prussian blue eyes.
And the silver collar around his neck.
Without pause, Harry shot up from the bed only to fall to his knees at the Pilot's feet. Hands clasped in front of him, Harry threw aside what shreds of dignity he might have had left and shamelessly begged for forgiveness. Even though most of his words were unintelligible, the meaning to them was undoubtedly clear.
"I'm sorry!" He finally cried "I'm so sorry."
Then Yuy's arms were around him, pressing his head into a strong shoulder, where he sobbed degradingly.
"It is not your fault, Green Eyes." The usually unmovable teen murmured. "It's okay."
Harry shook his head violently before clutching the teen closer. With a nervous clearing of his throat, he deepened his voice slightly. "I, James Charlus Potter, hereby declare Heero Yuy and" His eyes flicked over the rest of the assembled Pilots before him, finding his target with relative ease "Trowa Barton Free People, effective immediately."
Instantly, the two silver collars clicked open, falling to the floor with a clunk. The room was silent for only a moment before disbelieving laughs filled the room as the two were assaulted by their friends and lovers. A bittersweet feeling rose up as Harry quietly crept back into the bead. Turning on his side to curl around a fluffy pillow. A skeleton-like hand fingered his own collar. Even though there would be no freedom for him, he truly was glad he could at least right some of the wrongs his father committed. Perhaps he could find a way to kill himself? He didn't want to remain in this world any longer than necessary. He traced the thick, long scar on his left forearm. He knew that another, more jagged one was on his right arm, and yet another, smaller one where he tried to stab himself in the heart-would have succeeded too, if Hanner hand' t come charging in, startling him enough to mess up his aim and the force of his thrust. Three times, he had tried. Three times tried and failed. Forth time's a charm? He scrunched his eyes shut, clutching the pillow tighter. He could do it tonight, when they were all occupied with their lovers. He still had on the long, ratty turtleneck that hung off one shoulder, and the washed out jeans that hung precariously on his bony hips, so it was possible that the small razor that he kept stitched into his sleeve was still there, along with a small pocketknife that he kept in a small pocked in his right pant leg. Hanner would have been furious to find the small, delicate criss-crossing scars that littered his arms. Luckily enough, the fan man was either too drunk, or overcome with lust or rage to notice them whenever Harry slipped up and revealed the skin of his arms. Suddenly, the silence in the room struck him as odd. Looking up, he flinched when his jade eyes met the wide, horrified blue of his new Ma-er, friend? No, he had no friends. His new Master.
"Harry." Quatre whispered "You're not thinking about harming yourself, are you?"
The other teens stared at him with unsurprised, grim gazes. He was still required to answer, no matter how much he didn't want to-he was a horrible liar, after all. "Perhaps, master." He murmured shamefully.
He jumped as the gentle voice off Trowa Barton sounded much closer than expected. He glanced up and froze when not two feet away was the one visible eye of the Heavyarms Pilot, the other covered by bangs that defied gravity. Harry snorted. Even as grievous a situation as this, he couldn't help but notice the odd bangs. "Yes, master Barton?"
What came next was unnerving. "Show us your arms."
Harry froze, staring in wide-eyed innocence at the teen. "Master?"
They weren't fooled.
"Do as he asked, harry." Quatre murmured, gaze fixed on the covered limbs.
Panic brused lightly at his sences as he curled further around the pillow, burying his face in its fluffy depths. "Master" He whispered. He didn't want to! "Master, please."
Gentle, but firm hands drew his right arm away from his body, stretching the complying limb out with a gentleness that until now, Harry had never known. When they started to roll the sleeve up, he couldn't help but struggle. High, terrified keening reached his ears, and it took him a moment to realize that it was him making the noise. Hands carded through his hair, soothing him as one might soothe a frightened animal.
He loathed the fact that it worked.
Slowly, his fluttering heart slowed. His sleeve was already pushed back, and he was mildly surprised to find Heero Yuy gently wrapping pristine white cloth around the fresh cuts on his wrists.
Harry froze at the Chinese's quiet order, muscles tensing. "M-master Wufei?"
Onyx eyes studied him. "I have no intention of molesting or harming you, Harrison." He stated calmly "We need to check your body for other injuries, and your clothes for potentially dangerous objects." The five stepped closer to him.
Defeated before he could even start, harry reached up with trembling hands and slipped off first his shirt, then his pants, wordlessly handing them over to his Master. The room seemed to hiss, and it took him a few minutes to realize that it was his new Masters all sucking in their breaths sharply. He glanced down at his body uncomprehendingly. What was wrong with them? Sure, scars were all over, as were bruises and cuts, and each of his ribs jutted out, but really, what did they expect? Apparently, his thoughts showed on his face, for Wufei gave him a short bow.
"You will not have to worry about that anymore, little one." The braided Pilot-Duo Maxwell-murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair out from Harry's eyes.
It was with great disbelief that Harry allowed the five ex-pilots to care for him-Quatre even helped him bathe before they bandaged the rest of his wounds. Hours later, harry was found sitting on the floor by Quatre's feet reading a book-his first possession, besides the clothes upon his back. All five teens had tried to cajole him into sitting on the couch, but he adamantly refused. The result was something that Harry had never expected in his wildest dreams. He was sitting with his back against the couch, his Master's legs on each side of him. Gentle hands ran on equally gentle brush through his newly washed hair. He had been quite surprised to find that without all the dirt and grease, his hair was soft and silky, tumbling in thick curls and waves down to his waist. He had forgotten what his hair looked like washed. The teens had dressed him in soft black sweatpants and a thick cotton hoodie that positively swallowed him. Even with that on, Quatre insisted that he wrap himself in a soft, warm blanket and cover his feet with fuzzy socks. Tentively, he allowed himself a small ray of hope. Perhaps, just perhaps, he might like it here. Quatre had already sat him down, selling him sternly that even though he had a collar around his neck, they did not consider him in any way their slave. In fact, Duo had cheerfully told him he was more like a little brother than anything else, even though he had only just met the boy.
Harry hadn't cried at the proclamation, but it was close. Currently they were all reclining in Quatre's manor in the Arabian Desert. They were in a rather spacious living room that had a rectangular coffee table in the center, a large television in front, and three black leather couches capable of sitting three people around it. Only one, however, was being used. Across from the T.V. Harry sat on the floor, Quatre in the middle of the couch and directly behind him. To the blonds' right was his lover, Trowa Barton, who had a book in his lap and was reading vivaciously. In front of Trowa was- much to Harry's surprise, Wufei with a larger, thicker tome in his lap and thin, square wire glasses perched on his nose. Harry couldn't help but giggle at the image. He looked like a studious college student! To the blond's left was Heero Yuy, a nondescript laptop balanced on his knees and nimble fingers clacking away at the keys, though every once in a while a hand reached down to run through his loners hair or brush a delicate cheek belonging to the American, who was sitting at his feet. Said American was currently engaged in a game of Othello with Harry, after succeeding in persuading him into a game. In his mind, though, Harry was already tearing through the possibilities upon possibilities of his future. He paused, jade eyes widening and a gasp tearing out of his throat as a thought struck him. The hands on his hair paused, as did the clacking of the keys.
Harry gazed out into the fire, which was crackling under the T.V. Though the Winner no doubt had more than enough money for heat, the fire gave the manor a more homey feeling. A hand landed on his shoulder, and Harry looked up to meet Wufei's concerned gaze.
"What is wrong?"
Harry started to speak, but then bit his lip. What if Quatre didn't let him? He did deserve his enslavement, after all.
"Harry!" The sharp voice of Heero yanked him out of his thoughts.
"Master Quatre." He whispered "Please, Master Quatre!"
Hands curled about his arms, lifting him into a warm lap. Automatically, Harry wrapped slim arms around the blonds' neck, trying to prevent himself from purring in delight when strong arms cradled him to the firm chest in return.
"Please what, little one? What do you need?" The blond queried earnestly.
"M-my Uncle." Harry choked out, having to pause to prevent himself from stuttering. "My Uncle has a son. What if what I did for Master's Trowa and Heero works for me? Please, Master Quatre, please!"
The clacking returned, more furiously than ever. Duo bounced up in excitement, laughing happily all the while as he hugged Harry enthusiastically. "Hee-chan will find him Har-Har! We'll get you free in no time."
Harry couldn't stop himself from smiling indulgently. "I dearly hope so, Master Duo."
The braided teen waved a finger under his nose. "Now now, Green Eyes" Duo scolded good-naturedly "soon you won't be allowed to call us that!"
Harry looked down in shame "I don't know if I can, Master Duo." He mumbled, then shrugged helplessly. "Habit."
Duo laughed and plopped down on Trowa's lap, flinging an arm in between Harry's neck and Quatre's chest to pull the raven's head into his own lap. Trowa grunted quietly, but said nothing, instead choosing to run a soothing hand through Harry';s black locks.
"Don't worry, Ry." Duo reassured "I'll break you of that particular habit in no time."
Not two days ago, had someone said that to him, he would have flinched away in fear of how that habit would be broken. Now, he simply purred, burrowing his head in Duo's lap and digging his feet under Quatre's legs. It was with a content sigh that he fell asleep, a small smile lingering upon his lips.
A/N: Well, that's the end of chapter one, hope it was enjoyed! Don't know when I'll be able to update. As you may or may not know, this will be my first multi-chapter story, so the lengths of said chapters may vary as I get used to writing. A word of warning; I have not actually watched Gundam Wing, (does anyone know where I could watch the episodes for free?) so everything that I mention I learned about by reading other crossover's of HP/GW. This story is greatly inspired by one of Ammie Hawk's fics, one that the author has not updated in quite a while (very disappointing to me, I was looking forward to it. Anyone know if it was abandoned? It's called Shattered Pawn). If I make any mistakes, please inform me, though right now I'm still getting used to using the whole fanfiction thing, so things might be a bit wacky for a while. And like always; Criticism will be smiled at, Flames will be scoffed at, and this website will be snarled at.
Reviews are nice.