Disclaimer: I own naught.

Warnings: Slavery. Non-con. Angry!Harry. Violation. Abuse.
Pairings: HP/lm/ss. VK/HG.

Rainbow Row
By: Bucket/Replacement for the Stars/filthyfreedom

Chapter One:
Collection

(O.o)

Harry Potter followed Fudge through the halls of Azkaban, nodding at the correct times to the man's prattle, Hermione walking just a pace behind him. They knew better, by now, than to walk next to him. He spun his wand through his fingers as Fudge glanced back over his shoulder, telling him that it was just a few minutes until they came to the cell housing Harry's inmates.

"Mind telling me why you chose these two, Master Potter?"

He grasped his wand tightly enough to dig his trimmed nails into the meat of his palm. "I was unaware it mattered, Fudge," he responded quickly, not bothering to hide his disgust for the Minister of Magic. Fudge knew Harry disliked him and also most likely knew the reality of would happen to his so-called Ministry of Magic once Harry had his slaves. After all, they were his due, for defeating Voldemort and having to train for six years at the hands of ruthless Order members unable to do it themselves because of a prophecy. He had learned Dark magic on his own and defeated Voldemort at his own game.

Fudge swallowed and hurried his step. Only a hallway later, Fudge stopped outside a cell and Harry halted as well, turning his head to peer past the bars at the two men, both once so high and mighty, now covered in dirt and their own filth. Perfect.

Hermione cleared her throat and did not retreat a step when Harry's head swung around to stare at her, the green eyes staring at her above gaunt cheeks. He had always been so thin. "The bond has already begun. You must collar and brand"—her voice tightened at the last word and at the bright look in Harry's eyes—"them for it to be completed." She paused for a moment and then decided to not add on his title. He had never informed her that such a requirement was needed of her, as she was one of his few remaining friends left over from the war. All that was required of her was to give him her honest opinions on matters and assist him where needed. As well as his friend and confidant, but that had been left unsaid because Hermione had always known. She knew why Harry chose these two men and had raised her objections—after all, she would never approve of slavery—but quieted when he told her to.

Hard green eyes pierced her and Hermione was hard pressed to not look away. "Who performed the bond?" he bit out, and Hermione watched as his gaze unwillingly moved to the two men standing together, united, in the cell.

"I did," Hermione answered quickly, and held out her wand and opened her mind to allow him to verify. "With Viktor assisting."

Scarred lips pursed as Harry took in her words and touched her wand with thin fingertips. He closed his eyes as whatever he was searching for flew into his magic, and after a moment, the green gaze slammed her to the spot once again. "Good," he muttered, and held onto her wand as he swiftly entered her mind. She had performed the correct bond, the one that Harry had demanded be done—it bonded them to him, but not vice versa, as he had claimed he didn't want to feel their pathetic emotions—and quickly ushered him to the memory.

Hermione threw a last glance at her tall, duck-footed husband and he nodded slowly to her, telling her to go ahead with the procedure. Shackled to the floor on the other side of the relatively tiny room, Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy knelt, hard eyes spitting fire at her. She lifted her wand and took a deep breath, momentarily closing her eyes.

As she began the quiet, melodic sounds of the slavery spell, Viktor picked up the two vials of Harry's freely donated blood from the small table next to him and circled once around the two men before stepping first up to Malfoy. He pocketed the vial of blood for Snape and used a wordless spell to wrench Malfoy's mouth open, the grey eyes spewing hatred at him. Viktor pulled the stopper out of the vial and turned to Hermione, waiting for her nod; the moment it came, he poured the blood in Malfoy's mouth and cast another wordless spell to force him to swallow it. Viktor threw the vial away, ignoring the shattering of delicate glass as he moved to Snape, and performed the same wordless spell to wrench Snape's sneering mouth open. At Hermione's second nod, he poured Harry's blood into the Potion Master's mouth and quickly cast the spell to force him to swallow it. Viktor threw the second vial away and retreated behind Hermione, not looking at what he had done.

Hermione ignored the sweat dripping down her temples as she swished and twirled her wand for the last time, incanting the last string of binding words, and when the bright gold flash forced both men to slam their foreheads into the uneven stone floor, both Hermione and Viktor made their escape.

Harry roughly retreated and shoved Hermione's wand back into her hands. He nodded to her when she peered up at him, searching the liquid brown eyes for a long moment before quietly telling her that she had done a good job. Hermione visibly brightened—when had praise from her only surviving friend come to mean so much?—and took a step back, slipping her wand behind her ear and idly dusting off her robes to hide her nervousness. She did not approve of what Harry was doing and he was quite aware of that; however, Hermione knew that Harry believed this reward to be his due and would allow him that.

It was all anyone had left to give him.

Harry opened his death-green robes and pulled out two collars and a branding iron in the shape of a lightning bolt. He touched one of the buttons with a thin finger and the robes quickly closed themselves as Harry idly examined the collars and the iron; Hermione glanced through the bars to see Snape's black eyes fastened on Harry's hands. They knew his emotions now, even though they now felt only the faintest dregs of what Harry was feeling; did they know what Harry had planned for them? What Hermione knew he was going to do to them? The humiliation and agony Harry was going to force them to suffer? Hermione was well aware that Harry hated these two men, hated them with all he had, perhaps more than he had even hated Voldemort. Could they feel it? Did they know?

A part of her wished they did, and another part, a more gentle soul that had not been tainted, dreadfully hoped that they did not know how Harry felt for him. At least, not yet. They would be the victims to every nuance and every shade of every single one of Harry's emotions; they would know soon enough. The soft, gentle part of Hermione hoped that Harry would allow their innocence for his hatred for the longest amount of time possible, if only to allow them their faux freedom for just a moment more.

Harry lifted one long, rail-thin hand and the bars melted away. Hermione stepped up behind him, making sure to keep both herself and Fudge out of the cell, and held in her gasp.

The second chapter will be posted within the hour.
-Replacement for the Stars