The Domino Effect

by Jameschick

 

 

  Original Posting Dates are listed with each chapter.

 These dates are taken from the original emails received from

 the jameschicks_fic yahoo group.

 

 

Chapter Listing :

 

~ Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Part 7 ~ Part 8 ~ Part 9 ~ Part 10 ~

 

~ Part 11 ~ Part 12 ~ Part 13 ~ Part 14 ~ Part 15 ~ Part 16 ~ Part 17 ~ Part 18 ~ Part 19 ~ Part 20 ~

 

~ Part 21 ~ Part 22 ~ Part 23 ~ Part 24 ~ Part 25 ~ Part 26 ~ Part 27 ~ Part 28 ~ End ~

 

 

Title : The Domino Effect

 

Author : jameschick

 

Pairing : Harry/Draco

 

Rating : NC 17

 

Summary : Sometimes, a single event can alter a person’s entire life.

 

Disclaimer : This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

 

Warnings : Spoilers up to the fifth book, rape, torture, and other non-nice things. Minor character deaths as well – most likely.

 

A/N : Thanks to my beta, Clandestiny.

 

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Original Posting Date: Mon, 31 May 2004 20:19:41 -0400 (EDT)

 

Save me. Save me. Save me. I’m naked and I’m far from home. – Queen

 

Part 1

 

They’d lost. Again. Not that he wasn’t used to it. He’d been playing seeker for going on six years now, and he’d rarely ever won a match against Gryffindor. Not with Harry Potter playing against him. For a muggle-raised wizard, he flew like he’d been born on a broom.

 

Draco Malfoy was heading for the locker room. The game had ended over two hours ago, but he hadn’t felt up to being around his team mates after his defeat; he’d headed over to the lake to sit and ruminate, still in his Quidditch gear. He figured he was safe enough now to go back and change without seeing the condemning looks from his housemates. It wasn’t his fault that Potter was a better player than him. He practiced, probably harder than Harry did, it just didn’t make up for innate talent.

 

The locker room was dark; empty, just as he had suspected. Draco let out a sigh and made his way toward his locker. He stripped off his uniform and thought longingly about a hot shower, however, he knew that if he wanted to eat, he’d have to put it off until after dinner. He had just put his robes on over his pants and button-up shirt when he heard a soft whimper.

 

Cocking his head, he listened. When there was no further sound, he picked up his wand and walked slowly toward the back of the room. He muttered “lumos” quietly and then gasped in shock. Whatever he had expected to find, this surely was not it.

 

On the floor ahead of him lay a naked, bound, beaten and bloody Harry Potter. That was bad, but not the worst of it. If it were only the fact that he had been beaten, Draco would have scoffed at him. The naked bit was a little harder to ignore, but it had its places if it were being used to humiliate. Seeing Harry Potter’s prized Firebolt protruding from his own backside was enough to make even Draco Malfoy turn away in disgust. He almost retched at the sight.

 

Knowing that it was his housemates that had done this, Draco steeled his resolve and walked over to the prone and pretty-much unconscious boy. He knelt down, muttered a stunning spell to spare Potter any further pain and slowly removed the broomstick from his orifice. Utterly disgusted, Draco removed his robes and, after untying Harry, wrapped them around the naked boy and scooped him into his arms.

 

Not knowing why exactly he was doing this – helping the Gryffindor Golden Boy – he carefully made his way back to the castle and slipped inside using a hidden entrance that went straight to the dungeons. He put Harry in his bed, secured the curtains with a locking charm so he wouldn’t be disturbed should anyone come up to the room, and then went in search of his Head of House.

 

Since it was dinner time, Draco knew that Professor Snape would be in the Great Hall, but he also knew that there was no way he could just burst in there and draw the man out without causing suspicion. That in mind, he made his way up to the owlery and sent a message to Snape to meet him in the dungeons immediately, that it was a matter of urgency and discretion. As soon as his eagle owl took off, Draco ran back down the stairs to the Slytherin Dungeon to check on Potter and await Professor Snape.

 

Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long.

 

“Mr. Malfoy. This had better be important; I do not appreciate being summoned like a common house elf.” Snape sneered, a look of fire in his eyes.

 

“I assure you, Professor, that it is.” Draco replied. “It’s Potter.”

 

“What has that reckless boy done now? And what has it to do with me?”

 

“He’s in my room, Sir.” Draco started to answer when he was cut off by the sound of Snape’s hands coming together in a loud clap.

 

“Yesssss! I shall have him now. He’ll see detention for the rest of the year for this.” Snape smiled, a sight most unbecoming of him, and Draco swallowed in fear.

 

“No, Sir, I mean, I put him in my room.”

 

Snape’s smile slid off his face to be replaced with a look of confusion and then surprise. “Did… did you kill him?”

 

Draco rolled his eyes. “Hardly. I found him in the Slytherin locker room. He’s been attacked, Sir, by my housemates. It, well, it isn’t pretty.”

 

Snape thought for a moment and then spoke. “Why did you not take him to the Infirmary then? Why bring him here and summon me?”

 

“Because,” Draco looked Snape in the eye, “He’s been raped, Sir. And I thought it better if we kept it quiet. I don’t think Potter would want this to be made public knowledge. Plus, you have to consider what would happen to the other Slytherins if word of this got out. The rest of the school would take revenge on any Slytherin student. Whether they were guilty or not.”

 

Snape seemed to take this all in before nodding in agreement. “Very well, take me to him.”

 

Draco opened the curtains surrounding his bed and the two Slytherins looked down at the still form of Harry Potter. Snape’s face showed nothing, but he was shocked by the vision before him. Perfect Potter, as he was known throughout the dungeons, looked like he’d been savaged by a hippogriff.

 

Taking a step further into the room, Snape withdrew his wand. “Revelio,” he muttered as he pointed his wand at the unconscious boy. Nothing happened. “Draco?” Snape turned to the blonde. “I thought you said he’d been raped? The spell shows no evidence of such a thing occurring.”

 

“He was, Sir,” Draco replied. “They violated him with his broomstick.”

 

Snape paled visibly but otherwise looked unaffected by this news. “Very well. He may have internal injuries then, I’ll need to check him over.”

 

“Yes, Sir. Should I leave you then?”

 

“No. I think it best if you remain. However, what you learn here you will never speak of. This incident must remain private, unless Potter himself decides to make it public. Is that understood, Draco? This will not be used as part of your ongoing verbal war with the Gryffindors.”

 

“Of course, Sir.”

 

Draco stood off to the side of his room while Snape checked Harry over. He knew that his fellow team-mates had it in for Potter, but he never thought they’d take it this far. A few well placed curses, perhaps sabotaging his broomstick… But this? This was completely unacceptable. He’d wait and see what Potter wanted to do about the situation, but there was no way that his fellows were going to walk away unscathed. If Snape didn’t punish them, well Draco wasn’t raised by Voldemort’s right hand man without learning a few… interesting hexes.

 

 

It had taken the better part of an hour, a trip to the potions storeroom, and forcing several vile tasting concoctions down the unconscious young man’s throat, but finally, Snape stood and announced that Potter would, indeed, survive. Draco, because he had found the Gryffindor and brought him back to his room, was volunteered to stay with him until such time as he awoke while Snape went off to deal with other matters. Draco couldn’t hide the smile on his face when he thought of what Snape might do to the others. They deserved whatever they got, and probably a hell of a lot worse!

 

Draco remembered when he was younger, how he was once accosted by a former acquaintance of his father’s. The man had been visiting the Manor on business, and not Ministry business either. He had taken a liking to the then ten-year-old boy and while Lucius was otherwise occupied, had cornered him in the library and tried to have his way with him. If one of the house elves – Lucius’ personal servant – hadn’t seen them and informed his master, well, Draco was sure the man would have raped him. As it turned out, Lucius had stormed into the room and cursed the man so fast, Draco had been thrown half way across the room from the force of the blast. He’d never seen the man again after that, but there had been an odd piercing wail coming up from the dungeons for the next month.

 

Still lost in thoughts of his past, Draco didn’t see the slight stirring from the huddled form on his bed, but the terrified whimpering sound registered just fine. He slowly approached the bed, making sure to stay far enough away as to appear non-threatening.

 

“Potter? Potter, it’s Draco… Er, Malfoy. You are in my room, you’re safe here.” Draco rolled his eyes at himself. Comforting Harry bloody Potter? And doing a crap job of it as well? Hardly his best performance.

 

“Mal-Malfoy?” Harry croaked, and squinted up at him. Draco nodded his head and then poured a glass of water from the pitcher on his bedside table.

 

“Can you sit up?” Draco held the water out to him at arms length and Harry slowly scooted up the bed until he was resting against the headboard. He eyed Draco warily and then hesitantly took the glass from the other boy’s hand. “Slowly, Potter. Otherwise you’ll probably vomit. And those sheets are silk.” Draco added as an after thought.

 

Harry sipped at the water and continued to watch Draco carefully. Draco, for his part, did his best to move slowly and keep his distance. Finally though, Harry’s curiosity got the better of him and he had to ask. “Why?”

 

“Why, what, Potter? Why are you here? Why am I helping you? Why did the others do that to you? You’ll have to be more specific.” Draco arched one perfectly sculpted brow and watched in a sort of horrified fascination as Harry’s whole face seemed to crumble; it was as if the entire incident was replaying itself in front of his eyes. Which was entirely likely. “Potter! Snap out of it, I said you were safe here and I meant it.”

 

It took Harry a few minutes to gather his wits and meet the other boy’s eyes, but when he did, he looked at him for several long minutes in which Draco felt that his soul itself was on display to the green-eyed boy. Harry must have found whatever it was he’d been searching for, for he relaxed slightly before looking away again. “All of it. Mostly, why you’re helping me.”

 

Draco sighed. “I had nothing to do with what they did to you, I want you know that first. If I had any idea of what they had planned, I’d have warned you, and then I’d have hexed them. As for why I’m helping you, well, I found you. I hardly thought you’d want this publicized so I brought you here, and then I had Snape check you over.” At Harry’s mortified expression, Draco continued. “You might have died if I hadn’t, Potter. You were pretty banged up, and well… That’s not important right now. Look, I’ve sworn Snape to silence, it’s your call what to do next.”

 

Harry seemed to think it over for a few minutes before speaking softly. “I don’t want anyone to know. I-I’m embarrassed. And kind of ashamed, if you want the truth.”

 

Draco stepped back in alarm. “Potter? You do realize this isn’t your fault. What the hell do you have to be ashamed of? If anything, it’s that sorry lot of bastards who should be ashamed of themselves! Merlin’s beard, if Snape hasn’t already done it, I’ll hex their balls off!” The look of utter confusion on Harry’s face made Draco smile slightly. “I don’t condone rape, Potter. Not for any reason.”

 

At the word ‘rape’ the colour drained from Harry’s face and he burst into tears. Draco hesitated slightly but then, not knowing what else to do, carefully sat on the edge of the bed and talked softly to the weeping boy. “Potter, hey, it’s alright now, it’s over.” Draco continued to talk softly and, surprisingly, Harry moved closer to him and looked up at him imploringly. Draco snorted softly to himself but opened his arms; Harry gratefully sank into them and let his enemy soothe him. This was how Snape found them minutes later when he returned with a tray of food for the both of them and more potions for Harry.

 

 

After practically forcing Harry to eat something and take the potions Snape had brought him, the Professor escorted the young man back to Gryffindor tower. He had, thanks to Dobby and Snape’s quick thinking, been able to change into his own clothes and give Draco his robe back. There would have been no way – short of the truth – to explain why he’d been wearing Slytherin robes.

 

His team mates were still celebrating their victory over Slytherin, and the other Gryffindors had joined in the festivities. Harry was hoping to slip unnoticed up to his dorm, but Ron spotted him before he could reach the stairs.

 

“Harry!” The redhead hollered and made his way through the crowd toward him. “Where the hell have you been, we’ve been waiting ages for you to get here!”

 

Harry swallowed down a knot of fear as Ron’s hand came down heavily on his shoulder and tried to smile reassuringly. “I-I had a headache after the match, I’ve been to the Infirmary for a potion.”

 

Ron seemed to buy his excuse and put his arm around Harry’s shoulders and began to lead him further into the common room. “Well, come on then, everyone wants to hear your take on the game, especially the look on that git Malfoy’s face when you caught the Snitch!” Ron’s boisterous laughter made Harry cringe, but thankfully no one noticed.

 

 

Harry had finally managed to escape the party after recounting his story of catching the Snitch. If he was nicer about Draco in the tale than he normally would have been, no one called him on it. He was now lying in his bed with the curtains drawn, staring up at the ceiling. The noise from the party down below filtered softly through to him, but he didn’t mind, it wasn’t like he’d be sleeping anytime soon. He had a vial of dreamless sleep potion that Snape insisted he take before bed, but he was reluctant to try sleeping even with that bit of aide. He knew what he’d see behind closed eyelids, what he’d feel and hear. Even now, while he lay awake he could hear them whispering in his ear, taunting him, the crude words they spoke, telling him what they were going to do to him before following through on their threats.

 

Harry sat up with a jolt. He felt trapped here, like somehow, they knew where he was and that they’d come for him. He had to get out, find somewhere safe, somewhere no one else knew of.

 

Before he could panic or change his mind, Harry leapt from his bed and opened his trunk. He grabbed his Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder’s Map and quietly made his way down the stairs. Seamus had everyone’s attention riveted on him as he told a story – something to do with sheep and Snape’s great uncle, so Harry was able to slip out of the common room unnoticed.

 

In the hallway, Harry unrolled the map underneath the cloak and whispered, “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.” He watched as the map appeared on the parchment and slowly began his trek to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. He knew of only one place that he could go where no one could follow. The Chamber of Secrets.

 

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Original Posting Date: Fri, 4 Jun 2004 15:06:15 -0400 (EDT)

 

Sometimes I feel I’ve got to… run away, I’ve got to… get away – Soft Cell

 

Part 2

 

The last time Harry had been in the Chamber of Secrets, he’d been looking for Ginny, fighting a Basilisk, and defeating the sixteen-year-old version of Lord Voldemort. He hadn’t had time to really look around. So far, barring the distinct lack of giant snake, the place didn’t look any different. He wandered for a while, finally coming across a set of heavy stone doors adorned with giant silver snakes. Harry hissed a greeting to them and they moved their heads to get a closer look at him.

 

After answering a few questions, Harry was surprised to be granted entrance into the room. The snakes had said it was Salazar’s study, and that no one had been inside since the master himself had last been at Hogwarts. Hermione would probably have had a fit – the historical significance of the moment and all – but Harry just hoped that there was a chair, or preferably a sofa, in the room. He was exhausted.

 

 

Draco sat in front of the fire in the Slytherin common room staring into the flames. His mind was occupied with sorting through the day’s events. His morning had been no different than any other morning that his team played; he had awoken, showered, dressed and gone down to breakfast. He had then joined his teammates in the Slytherin locker room for the pre-game strategy session, followed by the customary threats of bodily harm if they didn’t win – from the captain – and then had changed into his Quidditch gear and gone down to the field with the others.

 

As usual, Harry beat him to the Snitch; it didn’t matter that it wouldn’t have made a difference even if he had caught it as Gryffindor was winning 180 – 20 over Slytherin. Over half the team had graduated last year, so they had a lot of new players who weren’t very good yet. He, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott and Zabini – this years captain – were the only seasoned players they had.

 

It was no secret that the game was dependent on the skill of each team’s Seeker, but he refused to take the full burden of their defeat. Crabbe and Goyle were deadly as Beaters, but the new Chasers were green and the Keeper was never very good to begin with. Draco didn’t want to hear them bitch and moan and blame him for their loss, so rather than head back to the locker room with the others, he went for a walk around the lake instead.

 

Now, he wished he hadn’t. Finding Potter in his locker room was startling. It changed his perception of him; he was no longer Perfect Potter, the boy everyone loved. He would forever see him the way he did today, broken and bleeding. And he couldn’t forget the way Harry clung to him while he cried. In fact, that scene kept replaying itself over and over in his mind. Although, the look on Snape’s face when he walked in to see him holding Potter in his arms and stroking his hair… well, it wasn’t something he was likely to ever forget. The man looked as if he had a mouthful of flobberworms.

 

The sound of the common room door sliding open jarred Draco from his thoughts and he turned his head to see Crabbe, Goyle, Nott and Zabini stroll through. They all looked a mite pissed off. Draco hoped that Snape had punished them suitably – he also hoped that his Head of House had kept his name out of it. Four against one were not good odds, not even for a Malfoy.

 

“Where were you after the game, Drake?” Goyle asked as he plopped heavily down on the sofa beside the blond. “We waited for you to show up in the locker room.”

 

Draco wondered if he would have received the same fate as Potter had he not taken a walk instead. “I went for a walk, why?”

 

“No reason. Just wondering is all.”

 

The others were watching with varied expressions on their faces and Draco wanted to know what in the hell had happened, if Snape had said or done anything to them yet. “Have any of you seen Snape?” Draco asked with a blank face, “He was by earlier, said he wanted to see the lot of you.”

 

Zabini scowled, but answered the question. “Yeah, he pulled us out of the Great Hall after dinner. Did he tell you why he wanted to see us?”

 

“No,” Draco answered. “But I didn’t ask either. What was it about?”

 

The four boys exchanged a look before Zabini shook his head. “Nothing important. Well, I’m heading to bed, long day and all that.” The others all nodded and followed him up the stairs. Draco stayed where he was in front of the fireplace. Somehow, he didn’t feel safe sleeping in the same room with them any more.

 

 

Harry sighed in relief and sank down onto the soft, cushy chesterfield. The room had been a little dusty, but after performing a few cleaning spells that Mrs. Weasley had taught him, it was much nicer. He closed his eyes and tried not to think, or remember anything. He was glad that he had thought to bring the Dreamless Sleep potion with him. He uncorked the vial and drank it down. He felt safe here, down in the Chamber of Secrets. He knew no one could find him, as no one knew it was here other than Ron, the Headmaster and some of the teaching staff, and none of them could get in.

 

He wondered what had happened to his broom, but then he cringed at the memory of what had been done to him with it. He didn’t know how he’d ever be able to look at it again, let alone play Quidditch on it. Maybe, he thought, he should consider quitting the team.

 

Harry Potter wasn’t a quitter, never had been, but he knew that there was no way he could face the Slytherins again. No way he could get back on that broom and see them laughing at him, hear them taunting him, reminding him of what they did. He could report them, they’d surely be expelled, but he didn’t want anyone to know what had happened. It was bad enough that Snape knew, and of course, Malfoy.

 

Harry still didn’t know what to make of him. Sure, if things had been turned around, he would have helped Malfoy, but that was just who Harry was. He never expected that Draco Malfoy gave a damn about anyone but himself. Especially not him: Harry Potter. But he had helped him, and he still kept his secret. Other than telling Snape, that is, but from what Draco had said, that had been necessary. But the thing that confused Harry the most right now had been that Draco had comforted him.

 

Harry was still unsure how that had happened. One minute he was okay, repressing like a madman, but holding himself together, and the next he was crying like a girl and Draco was holding him, petting his hair and telling him it would be okay. It was bizarre to say the least, but Harry had believed him. He had felt safe there in Draco’s embrace.

 

Harry sighed softly and shook his head before pulling the cloak over him and turning on his side. He was tired, and he really needed some sleep. He just hoped that things would be better tomorrow.

 

 

Snape had just finished marking the latest essays from the first-year Hufflepuffs. He sighed in dismay at the low level of red ink left in the bottle and made a mental note to procure some more in the morning. He stacked the parchments neatly on the desk and got to his feet. He was halfway across the room, heading for his bedchamber, when he heard a knock at his door.

 

Snarling under his breath about how he was going to put an invisibility charm on his door so he wouldn’t be disturbed, he crossed the room in a few long strides and flung open the door. “What?!” He snarled and then rolled his eyes. “Oh, it’s you. Whatever can I do for you, Mr. Malfoy?”

 

Draco hesitated for a moment but when Snape stepped back from the door and made to close it, he spoke up quickly. “It’s my house mates, Sir. I don’t believe it is in my best interest to stay in my room tonight. I wondered if perhaps you could direct me to a safer location where I might sleep?”

 

Snape raised an eyebrow in question but stepped aside and allowed Draco entrance to his rooms. Once the young man was inside, Snape closed the door and directed Draco toward the sofa.

 

“Tell me,” Snape crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at his student. “Why do you think your team mates bear you ill will? Did they say anything, do anything that I should be aware of?”

 

“No, Sir. It’s only a feeling I have. Goyle said they were waiting for me in the locker room after the match. I wondered if I was fated to receive the same treatment as Potter. It made me question the sanity of sleeping in the same room as them.”

 

“Perhaps, they wished you to join them in their little scheme? Did that not occur to you?”

 

“Yes, briefly, Sir. But when I asked why they waited for me, I received no answer, I was merely told it wasn’t important.” Draco was getting a sore neck from looking up at his Professor, but he knew better than to break eye contact with him. “If they wanted me to help them with Potter, they would have told me what they did to him. The fact that they didn’t makes me believe they have something planned for me as well.”

 

“Very well. You may remain here tonight; I have a guest room. Tomorrow, I will look into things. I assure you, if they were planning to attack you as well, they will be sent home, post haste.”

 

“Thank you, Professor.”

 

“The bedroom is through there.” Snape pointed to a door on the other side of the room. “Don’t make noise, I’m a very light sleeper.” Snape gave Draco a hard look and then turned and went into his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

 

Draco stood up and shook his head. “I hope I don’t breathe too loudly,” he muttered under his breath and headed for the guest room. Why Snape, of all people, had a guest room, he’d never figure out. It wasn’t as though the man had friends.

 

 

When Harry woke the next morning, he was disoriented and confused. He sat up, fumbled around for his glasses and finally located them on the floor. After putting them on, he was able to get a good look at the room and it all came back to him. All of it.

 

 

~Flashback~

 

The game had been over for a half hour, Harry had been longer in the showers than the others but Ron had waited for him. “Harry! Hurry up, mate. Seamus and Dean managed to sneak a whole case of Butterbeer into the dorm after our last Hogsmeade weekend. They’ve been saving it for the after-party of this match!”

 

Harry grinned over at his enthusiastic friend and then shook his head. “Go on ahead then, I’ll only be a bit longer. I just have to get dressed and put my gear away.”

 

Ron looked sceptical but Harry could tell he really wanted to get back to the dorm. “Go on! I can walk myself back. I stood up to Voldemort for Godric’s sake!”

 

“If your sure…” Ron trailed off, already heading for the door. “I’ll make sure to save you a Butterbeer. Don’t be too long, eh?”

 

“I won’t,” Harry called back and then turned to his locker to get his robes out.

 

He’d finished dressing in no time and after giving his broom a quick once-over with a polished rag, he headed back toward the castle. He was only feet from the Slytherin locker room when he heard the footfalls behind him, but before he could even reach for his wand he heard “Petrificus Totalus” muttered from somewhere just over his left shoulder, and he fell over.

 

He was lifted from the ground and dragged inside the other team’s locker room before he knew what was happening. A rag was stuffed into his mouth and another was tied around his face to hold the gag in place. He heard voices; he recognised them as Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini and Nott. He didn’t know what they were up to, but he knew it wasn’t going to be good.

 

“Perstringo strictum,” Zabini whispered as he pointed his wand at Harry once more. “Can’t have you casting wandless magic at us in your panicked state, now can we?”

 

Harry’s eyes widened in fear, he could feel the spell as it wrapped around him, he felt trapped, like he was in too-tight clothing. His magic had been bound! He was truly helpless now.

 

“Get his wand,” Zabini ordered, and Goyle began patting him down until he found it. “Give it here, then get his clothes off.”

 

Harry started to panic then. Wandless and naked was not a good thing to be, unless you were in the shower, which he certainly was not. He felt two sets of large hands on him as his clothing was ruthlessly pulled from his body. Oh god, he thought to himself, they wouldn’t, would they? Surely, they didn’t meant to rape him!

 

Harry tried to struggle, but to no effect; he could throw off the Imperius curse, but he was totally helpless under a Petrificus. Being gagged, and now bound magically, he couldn’t utter the counter curse. He screamed behind the gag but it did him no good. All it did was make his tormentors laugh. “Scream, Potter,” Zabini whispered in his ear. “It makes no difference, no one will hear you.”

 

Harry could hear Goyle and Crabbe snickering behind him, he heard footsteps approaching and then Nott’s voice. “I’ve got the ropes, and his broom. Where do you want to do this?”

 

“Back corner,” Zabini answered. “We’ll tie him to the benches.”

 

Harry was flipped onto his back and then dragged by his feet through the room, the cold cement floor was tearing through the skin on his shoulders and upper back. He didn’t cry out though, he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. Not again.

 

When he was dropped back to the floor, he looked up and made eye contact with each of the other boys, silently promising retribution for the acts they were about to commit. They would pay for this, he would make them pay.

 

“Hold him down,” Zabini ordered.

 

Crabbe, Goyle and Nott grabbed a hold of him as Zabini lifted the Petrificus so they could tie him down. Harry fought them like mad, but he was outnumbered, naked, wandless, and, in Goyle and Crabbe’s case, outsized. Within minutes, he found himself face down over a bench, his arms and legs spread wide and securely fastened.

 

The first blow caught him off guard. It was hard, heavy, and if he wasn’t mistaken, caused by his own broom. The irony was not lost on him. However, if this was all they were going to do, beat him with his Firebolt, he could live with it. It wasn’t as though he’d never taken a beating before; he’d lived with the Dursleys most his life.

 

It seemed to go on forever, blow after blow, Crabbe whining about when it was going to be his turn, being told to have patience, that his time would come. And then it came. Harry knew this because the blows had been growing lighter as Goyle’s arm weakened and now they were quite hard again as Crabbe was just getting started.

 

And through it all, there was Blaise Zabini’s voice. Calling Harry a half-blood, a disgrace to his name, a mud-blood lover and a kiss-up. He taunted him with what he was doing, how easy it had been to capture him, how he couldn’t understand why everyone thought he would save the Wizarding world when here he was, naked, beaten and at the mercy of the Dark Lord’s worshippers. How easy it would be to turn him over to Voldemort, to kill him right now, where he lay – prone and helpless.

 

Then, oh god, then it happened. The pain stopped. And Harry held his breath. He knew it wasn’t over, it couldn’t be; he was still conscious after all. He heard the spell, one he’d heard Seamus use late at night, and he knew what it did. Lubricus.

 

The pain was excruciating. Like being split in half and then some. He did scream then. He didn’t care who heard him, this wasn’t just rape, it was torture. And it didn’t stop either. They sodomized him with his broom handle, in and out, over and over, hard, brutal thrusts, tearing at his insides. And through out it all, they laughed. The last thing Harry heard before passing out was Blaise’s soft voice in his ear, calling him a queer and asking him if he enjoyed it.

 

~End Flashback~

 

 

Harry gasped as the memories lifted and he found himself on his knees on the cold stone floor. He crawled back onto the sofa and curled into a ball. It was Sunday, and since there were no classes, and he didn’t think he could stand being around other people, he decided to just stay right where he was. Maybe forever.

 

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Original Posting Date: Fri, 11 Jun 2004 18:37:15 -0400 (EDT)

 

I’m a model you know what I mean, And I do my little turn on the catwalk. Yeah on the catwalk on the catwalk yeah, I do my little turn on the catwalk. – Right Said Fred

 

Part 3

 

When Draco woke the next day he yawned, stretched, opened his eyes and screamed. “Bloody hell! You scared me half to death!” Draco sat up in bed and glared at the amused professor standing over him. “Do you always hover over people while they’re sleeping? Merlin, it’s no wonder you don’t have a lot of use for this room.”

 

The amusement faded somewhat from Snape’s face and he pursed his lips. “It would do you well, to remember just whom you are speaking to, Draco. Now, get up, get dressed, and leave my quarters. I will see to your personal problems after breakfast. I need to check up on Potter.”

 

Draco watched as Snape spun on his heel and strode from the room. “I really need to learn how to do that,” he muttered to himself. “It looks so… intimidating. Kinda sexy too.”

 

 

Snape glared at the fat lady when she refused him entrance and took a menacing step closer to the portrait. “Look here, you fashion impaired, overbearing, overweight, uptight excuse for a lady! If you do not allow me entrance, I will make what Black did to you a few years back look like a paper cut in comparison to what I will do to you now!”

 

Needless to say, the fat lady ‘eeped’ and allowed him to enter. Snape rolled his eyes and stepped through the portrait hole. “This is exactly why Slytherin does not have a portrait; they’re too easily intimidated,” he muttered to himself.

 

Wrinkling his nose in distaste, Snape peered around the garishly decorated common room. He honestly didn’t know what Godric had been thinking choosing these colours for his house; they were so loud and boorish. Then again, he thought to himself, they did rather suit the personality of the Gryffindors.

 

Snape strode across the room and made his way up the stairs to the seventh-year boys’ dorm and opened the door. He peered into the room seeing five beds, all with their curtains drawn closed. Not knowing which bed was Potter’s, he made his way around the room, peeking in each one. Longbottom, Finnegan, Thomas, an empty bed, and then finally, Weasley.

 

“So, Potter didn’t sleep here last night,” Snape spoke softly as he tried to think of just where the boy might have spent the night. But seeing as he really had no interest in the young Gryffindor, he had no idea where he might be. Getting an evil glint in his eye, Snape leaned down over the sleeping Weasley boy, and when his face was mere inches away, shouted at him. “Weasley! Wake up!”

 

Ron’s eyes popped open and he screamed as he bolted up to a sitting position. Snape barely managed to move out of the way in time to save himself from a head-butt. He clamped his hand over the panicking boy’s mouth and sneered at him. “Really, Weasley, did you want to wake the whole tower?” Ron shook his head no, but his eyes were still wide and filled with fear. “I came here looking for Potter. Do you know where he is?”

 

Ron raised a shaky hand and pointed toward Harry’s bed. Snape rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Do you honestly think I am incapable of doing a bed-check? I found you after all. Potter is not in his bed, I thought you might know where I might find him.”

 

Snape removed his hand from the frightened boy’s mouth and Ron took in a relieved breath before speaking. “I-I don’t know, Sir. He went to bed early, so he might have woke up early. Um, ch-check the kitchens, he goes there for b-breakfast sometimes, and then o-out to the pitch.”

 

Snape nodded and turned away. Ron cleared his throat and asked nervously, “Harry’s not in trouble, is he?”

 

“That, Mr. Weasley,” Snape drawled, “is none of your concern.” And then Snape was gone, leaving Ron more awake than he had ever been in his whole life. Waking up to Snape hovering over him had been like a nightmare.

 

Down in the common room, Snape smiled to himself as he walked out the portrait hole. He’d managed to terrify two students and one portrait already this day, and he hadn’t even had breakfast yet. Things were looking up.

 

 

Down in the Great Hall, Draco sat in his usual spot at the Slytherin table, Goyle on one side of him, with Crabbe beside Goyle, and Pansy on the other. Since his father had been imprisoned back in fifth year, the Parkinsons had begun to distance themselves from his family, firstly withdrawing from the marriage contract between their two families. To Draco, this could only be seen as a blessing, as he had no desire what so ever to marry Pansy. He found the idea of spawning a line of pug-faced Malfoys rather disgusting, truth be told. She was now set to marry some Death Eater who had graduated from Durmstrang two years previously. He, himself, had no such obligations, as his mother found herself hard-pressed to find him a ‘suitable’ bride… not that he cared.

 

He looked across the room at the Gryffindor table and noticed that the only ones sitting there were a few second and third-year students, and one Hermione Granger, who was half-hidden behind a large book as she sipped at a cup of tea. It was not too surprising that Potter wasn’t there; he would likely try to avoid any and all social situations for a while.

 

Draco ate his breakfast a little faster than usual, hoping to finish before Crabbe and Goyle and therefore leave the Hall without company. Until he knew for sure that they didn’t mean to harm him, he was not going to put himself at risk by being alone with them.

 

He had just finished the last bite of his toast when Professor Snape strode into the Great Hall and quickly made his way to the Slytherin table, stopping directly in front of Draco. “Mr. Malfoy, you will come with me,” Snape said. That said, he executed that perfect spin and began to make his way out of the Hall. Draco shrugged, stood, and followed the Potions Professor out into the hallway. They didn’t speak as they made their way to the dungeons; only after entering Snape’s office and closing the door behind him, did Draco ask what was going on.

 

“Have you seen Potter this morning?” Snape’s response was curt, and right to the point.

 

“No, Sir. I left your rooms and went straight to the Great Hall. Potter wasn’t there,” Draco answered.

 

“Hmm,” Snape twisted his lips into a sneer as he recalled his fruitless search of the kitchens and then the Quidditch pitch. “Nor was he in his room this morning, or the kitchen, or the Quidditch pitch either. I swear if Weasley sent me on a wild-goose chase I’ll have him coming back here to serve detention every week until he’s thirty.”

 

Draco grinned at the idea of a full-grown Weasley scrubbing cauldrons every week for Professor Snape.

 

“You’ve been his rival for seven years, Draco. Surely you must know where he would go to be alone?”

 

Draco blinked and tilted his head in thought. It was funny actually, for all the trouble he and Potter had caused one another, he really knew very little about him other than the fact that he was a better seeker, an annoying Gryffindork, had horrible dress sense and even worse hair. But, there was one thing that Draco did know. “Potter has an Invisibility Cloak, Sir. He could be anywhere, in fact, he may have been in his room, or the kitchen, or even out on the Quidditch pitch. I wouldn’t waste your time trying to find him, Sir, if he doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be.”

 

Snape growled in annoyance, but conceded the point. He should have known, James Potter had been in possession of an Invisibility Cloak when he was at school as well. “If you should happen to see him, tell him to report to me at once!”

 

“Yes, Sir,” Draco replied.

 

“That is all, Mr. Malfoy. You may leave now.” Snape directed Draco to the door, and Draco, not wanting to spend any more time than necessary with the grouchy professor, left as quickly as Malfoy dignity permitted.

 

 

Harry sighed with relief as he closed the door to Salazar’s study behind him once more and set the basket of food down on the desk. He had woken up from an emotional stress-induced nap to find he was starving. Thanking Dumbledore – again – for gifting him with his father’s cloak, he stealthily made his way to the kitchens and politely asked the house elves if they would mind preparing him a few things to take away. Of course, they had been only too happy to fulfill his request and before he had known it, he had a large basket filled with sandwiches, fruit, juice, and sweets. More than enough to keep him for the day.

 

Harry opened the basket, took out a sandwich, and began to really look around the room he had spent the night in. All he had cared about last night was that there was a comfortable place to sleep, but now he could see that there were several bookshelves lining the one wall, a large wooden cabinet in the far corner with elegantly carved handles shaped like snakes, and what appeared to be a small potions lab on the opposite wall from the bookshelves.

 

Harry went to the shelves first, wanting to know what kind of things the Head of Slytherin house liked to read; he wasn’t surprised to see a lot of the same style of books that were in the restricted section.

 

As he perused the titles, his eyes caught several volumes stacked side by side that had no title on their spines. Harry popped the last of his sandwich into his mouth, wiped his hands on the front of his robes, and plucked the first book in the row from the shelf. The front cover was unadorned as well. He opened the heavy leather cover and gaped at the scrawling silver words on the front page.

 

Personal journal of Salazar Slytherin – Volume one

 

Harry couldn’t believe his eyes. This was probably the historical find of the century, possibly the millennia! He knew that he should turn these journals over to Dumbledore, but something inside of him said to read them first. This would most likely be his only opportunity, as once they were in the Headmaster’s hands, he would assuredly never see them again. That thought in mind, Harry went back to the sofa and sat down. He turned the page and began to read.

 

 

Draco walked quietly out to the pitch, his Firebolt slung over his shoulder. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was worried about Potter. If Snape hadn’t been there, if he hadn’t known what to do for him – and how he knew that, Draco didn’t want to know – then Potter could have died from his injuries. Injuries inflicted on him by Draco’s team mates, people he still wasn’t sure weren’t out to cause him the same humiliation. He had forgotten to ask Snape if he knew anything further about his house mates before he had been dismissed from his office. Then again, considering the mood he was in, it was probably better that he didn’t push his luck.

 

Making his way to the centre of the pitch and checking to see that there was no one else on the field or in the sky, Draco straddled his broom, gripped the handle securely, and pushed off from the ground.

 

Flying, for him, was like freedom. Ever since he’d been old enough to mount a broom it had been his one guilty pleasure. In the air, he didn’t have to hold up any pretence, conform to any rules. It was just him, the broom and the wind. He sometimes wished he could stay in the air forever, never have to set foot on the ground again. Today was one of those days.

 

He circled the pitch twice and then did a few feints and some rather impressive loops. After all, he had to look like he was practising, not just flying for the sake of flying. All the while though, he was remembering the events of the previous day. It was all he’d been doing since Potter had left his bed – and didn’t that make one look at it in a different context – the night before.

 

Potter, broken and bleeding. Potter in his arms as he carried him back to the castle. Potter helpless and unconscious. Potter whimpering in his sleep. Potter crying in his arms…

 

It was really just the first and last images that got to him. The idea that The-Boy-Who-Lived could be brought so low, could be… violated in such a way… Well, it just didn’t seem right. Somehow, despite all his misgivings about Potter, Draco had always assumed that he would save them all, even him. He might be a Malfoy, but he had no desire to follow a half-blood with delusions of world domination. No, he was not going to make the same mistakes his father had. Sure, the world had problems, and yeah, Muggles and Mudbloods were at the top of the list, but complete annihilation wasn’t the answer.

 

But more confusing than the idea of Harry Potter being brought down by a bunch of students – when their parents themselves, as well as the Dark Lord, had failed to do the job – was the sense of protectiveness he now felt for the other boy. Seven years of hatred, jealousy and petty bickering was suddenly usurped in that one moment, the one where he had looked into bright green eyes filled with pain, humiliation and unshed tears. He couldn’t get past the feeling inside of him, that Harry had trusted him. Him, Draco Son-Of-A-Death-Eater Malfoy, to take care of him. To hold him, to offer him comfort. It wasn’t something he had expected; if that morning someone had told him that by the end of the day he’d be in bed with Potter, and holding him while he wept, he’d have told them they were nutters.

 

He had no idea how long he’d been flying around above the pitch, but when he became aware of his surroundings once again, he slowly made his way back to the earth and shouldered his broom once again. He made good and sure to avoid walking too close to the locker rooms on his way back to the castle. If he was lucky, he’d have just enough time to shower and change clothes before lunch.

 

 

Harry’s eyes burned.

 

He had been reading for hours. Salazar, it seemed, was a bloody genius! Harry had learned, so far, that not only was the man ambitious, he was talented as well. Potions, charms, transfiguration, parseltongue… and the thing that intrigued Harry the most? Salazar was working on a way to get into someone’s thoughts, not like Snape with his Legilimens, but subtly. So subtly that the victim wouldn’t even know he was in there; not even Occlumency could keep him out. And once the spell caster was in the victims head, he could make them do pretty much anything he wanted. Make his thoughts their thoughts, his ideals their ideals… It was a good thing Tom Riddle had never found this room, or these diaries, Harry thought. The wizarding world would be a far different place if he had seen these books.

 

Actually, Harry thought to himself, it was probably better that no one else see these books. There was no telling whose hands they could wind up in. No, it was better that Harry keep them to himself. He was responsible, after all, and he wouldn’t do anything with the information he’d learned. He certainly wouldn’t use the spells he’d found to invade the minds of innocent people.

 

But perhaps, there were some not so innocent people he could perfect the craft on? Some people who deserved to be put through hell, to be played with, manipulated, made to see the light? Yeah, Harry smiled as he thought of the things he could accomplish with this, they would pay and pay dearly for what they did to him.

 

With that happy thought in his head, Harry set down the journal, leaned his head back against the sofa and closed his eyes. He would have to go back to his dorm tonight, there was no getting around that, but for now, he just wanted to sit in the peace and quiet while he still could. He wondered if Snape would give him another sleeping draught.

 

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Original Posting Date: Wed, 16 Jun 2004 11:19:20 -0400 (EDT)

 

Not like I need to depend upon anyone, since I can see the lack of need for you to be here at all. – Nickleback

 

Part 4

 

Ron was pacing back and forth in the Gryffindor common room. It wasn’t like Harry to be gone all day, and he was more than a little worried. Sure, he was Harry Potter, and he was more than capable of taking care of himself, but what if something had happened to him?

 

After finally getting over his attack of nerves that morning, he’d showered and gone down to breakfast, half expecting to find Harry there. He hadn’t, so after eating he’d gone down to the pitch and had a look around. No such luck there either. He figured that Snape must’ve found Harry and they were probably in his office or the classroom or something.

 

Wanting to know what was going on, Ron went back to his dorm room and looked for the Marauder’s Map in Harry’s trunk. Finding it missing, as well as the Invisibility Cloak, he surmised that Harry was either snooping somewhere in the school where he shouldn’t be, or that he’d heard Snape was looking for him and he was hiding out. He figured he’d ask Hermione if she knew where Harry was, and then headed to the library to find her. He knew that she’d be there; she always was.

 

Of course, Hermione had no idea where Harry was, and after listening to Ron carry on about Snape and how Harry might be in trouble, she rolled her eyes at him and reminded him that Harry was seventeen years old, had faced down Voldemort on several occasions, and was in no danger from Snape to begin with. Then she told him that if Harry hadn’t made an appearance by dinner they would look for him.

 

Well, it was now after dinner and there had been no sign of Harry.

 

“I just don’t understand how you can be so calm about it, ’Mione!” Ron turned to her with an angry look on his face. “He’s been gone since before I woke up this morning. Something could have happened to him!”

 

“Yes, that’s true, Ron, but,” Hermione reached out and laid her hand on Ron’s arm, “we don’t know that for sure. Both the map and the cloak are gone, so maybe he had plans. A girl he was meeting up with, perhaps.”

 

“Or he could be off doing something dangerous and stupid for Dumbledore!” Ron exploded in anger.

 

“Or, he could be right here watching you make an arse of yourself,” Harry spoke up from where he had just entered the room.

 

“Harry!” Ron strode quickly across the room toward him and punched him on the arm. “Where the hell have you been all day? Snape was in our room this morning looking for you! Snape, Harry! And he was standing over me when I woke up. It was a bloody nightmare I tell you!”

 

Harry cracked a grin and shook his head. “Sorry ’bout that, did he say what he wanted?”

 

“Only that you were to report to him immediately. Are you in some kind of trouble?”

 

“No, just some Order stuff,” Harry lied. “It’s no big deal; I’ll go see him now and get it over with.” Harry turned to go when Hermione stopped him.

 

“Harry? Where were you all day?”

 

“Oh, I was holed up in an empty classroom. Reading.” Harry hoped she bought it, seeing as how he wasn’t really lying to her.

 

Hermione looked at Harry skeptically but then, noticing his bloodshot eyes, seemed to be satisfied with his answer. “Alright then, Harry. We’ll see you when you get back from your meeting with Snape.” Harry nodded to her, grinned at Ron and then stepped back out into the hall.

 

Oh well, he thought, I wanted to see if Snape would give me a sleeping draught anyway.

 

 

Draco stood at the bottom of the staircase, his arms crossed over his chest and a defiant look in his eyes. He ground his teeth in annoyed frustration and looked up toward the top of the stairs. Again.

 

Potter had not been at dinner. That made three meals he’d missed. And Draco was not worried about him. He was not thinking about going up to Gryffindor Tower to check up on him either. He really wasn’t. And if he kept telling himself that, he might start to believe it.

 

It didn’t help matters that Snape had taken him aside after the evening meal and asked him, again, if he had seen the other boy. After all, if Snape couldn’t find him, how the hell was he supposed to do it?

 

Draco huffed in annoyance and spun on his heel; there was no point in this. Even if he did go up to Gryffindor, then what? Knock on the forehead of the horrid fat woman in the portrait and ask if Potter could come out and play? He hardly saw that going over well. Most likely he’d be hexed into oblivion by a bunch of do-gooding Gryffindolts intent on protecting their boy-wonder from the evil Slytherin. Too bad they weren’t around when Potter bloody needed them.

 

“Bloody Potter!” Draco huffed, “Always making my life difficult. Couldn’t bother to leave a soddin’ note, no, he’s gotta up and disappear for the day.”

 

“Sorry, Malfoy, didn’t realize you’d be worried.”

 

Harry’s amused voice came from behind him and Draco spun around to see the boy in question descending the staircase. He crossed his arms over his chest and tried to glare at Harry, but for some reason, it just didn’t come off quite right. “Who said I was worried?”

 

“No one,” Harry replied and then shrugged his shoulders. “So… Why are you standing around here at the bottom of the stairs, then?”

 

Draco blushed slightly and looked away. “If you must know, I was looking for you. Professor Snape wants to see you. He’s been trying to find you all day; I don’t think he’s going to be in a very good mood when you see him.”

 

“Yeah, I heard. Apparently he terrified Ron this morning. Something about hovering over his bed when he woke up.”

 

Draco snorted. “Somehow, hearing that, I feel less special now.” At Harry’s confused expression, Draco shook his head. “Never mind. I’ll walk you through the dungeons, no point in taking chances.”

 

Harry nodded. “Okay, but it’s not like I’m stupid, Draco. I brought my Invisibility cloak with me.”

 

“Good. Cause if the others come out in the corridor, we may both need it.”

 

Harry tilted his head inquisitively and studied the blond in front of him. “Something happen last night after I left?”

 

“Nothing important. Suffice it to say, my housemates are acting a bit… off around me. Goyle alluded to the fact that they had waited for me in the locker room after the game. Snape is looking into it for me. I don’t have to tell you where I think they were going with that remark, do I?”

 

“No.” Harry shook his head and then swallowed. “Look, about yesterday, Malfoy, I… Thank you.” Harry lowered his gaze to the floor and then continued. “Not just for bringing me back to the castle and getting Snape to fix me up, but the other stuff too. I didn’t mean to cry all over you, and you were real nice about it, so thanks.”

 

“Don’t worry about it, Potter. Your secret is safe with me.” Draco slung an arm around Harry’s shoulders and started guiding him toward the dungeons. “We better get a move on, the longer we keep Snape waiting, the more insufferable he’s bound to be.”

 

 

Severus Snape was not a happy camper. He had spent the better part of the day searching the castle for Harry Potter, and with no luck in finding him. It wasn’t that he was worried about the boy, for he wasn’t, it was only that if something more were to happen to him, and should Dumbledore discover what Severus himself already knew, then it would be he who would be held responsible for what happened. By all rules and codes of conduct, as a professor, and Head of Slytherin house, he should have reported not only Potter’s violation, but that he knew who the perpetrators were as well.

 

If it were anyone other than Draco that had asked him, he would not have kept his silence. He cared very little if the whole world found out that Potter had been assaulted, nor did he care what actions that revelation would have on the student body, in particular his Slytherins. They were more than capable of holding their own against the rest of the school. Always had been.

 

No, it had been Draco’s own safety that Snape was worried about. Ever since Lucius had been imprisoned, he had taken it upon himself to look out for the boy, to see to his well being. The fact that his position within Voldemort’s circle was no longer set in stone was both a relief and a worry to the Potions Master. He didn’t want to see Draco make the same mistakes he had made, but at the same time, it made him fear for him. If Voldemort doubted Draco’s loyalty, he would not hesitate to do away with him. He could see how the other seventh years had been watching him, and he knew that they were reporting their findings to their parents. This Potter thing was most likely the latest in a long string of subtle and not-so-subtle tests to determine where the younger Malfoy’s loyalty lay.

 

To Snape, it was now obvious that it wasn’t with Voldemort. But, did that mean it was with Potter?

 

There was a sharp rap on the door and Snape stood from his chair, crossed the room, and flung open the door. He was slightly surprised to see the objects of his musings standing before him. Both of them.

 

“Well, well, finally came out of hiding, did you, Potter?” Snape stepped back from the door and waved the two young men inside. “Hurry up now, before the other students see you loitering in the hallway.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes slightly and stepped inside, followed by Draco. He just wanted to get this over with and go to bed. “I was told you wanted to see me?”

 

Snape sneered at him and then produced his wand. Before Harry even thought about his actions, he had his wand in hand as well and was pointing it with deadly accuracy at his Professor.

 

If Snape was shocked by how fast Harry had armed himself, he didn’t let it show. Draco however had let out a small gasp of surprise.

 

“Honestly, Potter, I was merely going to check on your injuries,” Snape drawled. “Do put your wand away. Now, Potter.”

 

Harry, realizing that he had, in essence, just threatened a teacher, blanched slightly. “I’m sorry, Sir. It was just a gut reaction.”

 

“I’ve no doubt it was, Potter, however,” Snape grinned maliciously, “that’ll be ten points from Gryffindor for raising a wand to a faculty member.”

 

Harry and Draco exchanged a look, both boys rolling their eyes, and then Harry shrugged his shoulders. “Fine. Can we just get on with this? Sir?” Harry had to stop himself from crossing his arms over his chest and glaring. He knew that Snape would like nothing better than to find another reason to remove points from him. Not that Harry really cared about points – or anything else – anymore.

 

Harry stood stalk still while Snape circled around him, muttering spells and making ‘hmm’ sounds. After what seemed to be an extremely long time to Harry, he stopped in front of him and put his wand away. “Your injuries are healing nicely, in fact, I’d say by tomorrow, you’ll be as good as knew; as if nothing happened to you at all.”

 

“Thank you, Professor Snape. May I have another sleeping draught?”

 

“Certainly, Potter,” Snape smiled evilly and Harry gulped. “Just as soon as you answer me one question. Where have you been all day?”

 

This was not something Harry wanted to discuss right now, he looked away from Snape, studying the floor for a few seconds, then he decided to lie to him. “I was in the Astronomy Tower. Under my cloak.”

 

“The Astronomy tower?” Snape’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “What in the world were you doing there, no one goes to the Astronomy tower unless they have a… romantic liaison planned. Or for classes,” he added as an afterthought.

 

“I know,” Harry answered, “but seeing as it was daytime, I figured I’d be left alone.”

 

Snape seemed skeptical, but having no proof one way or the other, he let it go. “Very well, Potter, but don’t pull this disappearing act again or it’ll be fifty points from Gryffindor.”

 

“Yes, Sir,” Harry answered in a flat tone, “may I go now?”

 

Snape glared, walked over to his desk and picked up the waiting vial of Dreamless Sleep potion and then thrust it into Harry’s hand. “I would like a word with Mr. Malfoy; wait by the door and then he’ll see you safely out of the dungeons.” Snape walked to the far side of the room, Draco following sedately behind him.

 

“Sir?” Draco asked when they were on the far side of the room.

 

“Why are you here, with Potter, instead of in your dormitory?”

 

“I saw him coming here and thought it was a good idea to accompany him, lest anything… untoward should happen to him again. Have I made an error in judgment?” Draco put on his best ‘I am innocent I tell you!’ face and hoped that Snape didn’t see right through it. It wouldn’t do to have him find out that he’d been searching for the Gryffindor.

 

“No, of course not. I was merely concerned for your reputation should you be seen in his company.” Snape gave Draco a look and the blond nodded his head solemnly. “I have not yet had a chance to look into your personal matters, what with wasting all day looking for Potter. I wouldn’t want you to be… damaged for the company you keep.”

 

“Of course not, Sir.”

 

“In which case,” Snape continued, “if you find yourself in need of sleeping quarters again this evening, you may return here.”

 

Draco nodded. “Thank you, Professor. Shall I walk Potter back to the main hall?”

 

“Yes, thank you. I believe we are finished here.”

 

Draco turned and walked back to where Harry was waiting at the door. “Come on, let’s go before he changes his mind,” he whispered to the dark-haired boy and opened the door.

 

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Original Posting Date: Tue, 22 Jun 2004 21:21:52 -0400 (EDT)

 

No more words tonight. No more words, I’ll forever keep the silence and you can keep your lies – Luba

 

Part 5

 

“I don’t know, ’Mione, I still think there’s something Harry’s not telling us,” Ron said as he crossed his arms over his chest and pouted slightly. Hermione shook her head and smiled slightly at her sulky friend.

 

“Maybe there is, Ron, but Harry’s a big boy, he can take care of himself – as I’ve said before – and if he is keeping something from us, then it’s his business to do so. When he’s ready to talk about it, he’ll tell us,” Hermione put her hand on Ron’s arm and squeezed gently. “I know you’re worried about him, but he said he was fine. You have to leave it at that.”

 

“But he lied to us!” Ron all but yelled. “He said he was reading all day! Harry wouldn’t spend the entire day reading, Herm, that’d be like me saying I spent the whole day revising, or that Neville spent the day making potions with Snape! It would never happen, not voluntarily.”

 

“Oh, Ron,” Hermione sighed. “Are you forgetting that school will be over in a matter of months? That Harry will have to leave the only real home he’s ever had? How about the fact that there is a war looming ahead of us, or that Harry is going to be on the front lines?” Hermione stood with her hands on her hips now and Ron, looking rather sheepish, bowed his head and scuffed his toe on the floor.

 

“Sorry, ’Mione. I guess I wasn’t thinking.”

 

“I know, Ron, and sometimes, I forget too. But we have to remember that Harry has a lot on his mind right now, and we have to be supportive and allow him his space and privacy. Can you do that?”

 

Ron nodded and Hermione smiled at him. “Good. Now get your Herbology notes, and I’ll quiz you for tomorrow’s test.”

 

 

Harry was silent on the walk through the dungeons, but once they reached the main hall, he felt that he had to tell Draco that he’d overheard his and Snape’s conversation. He was worried about the other boy; if his housemates had it in for him, he wanted to help. To return the favour as the case may be.

 

“Er, Malfoy?” Harry looked up at the slightly larger boy through half-lidded eyes. “I heard what Snape said to you, I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but I have finely attuned listening skills. It’s something that Snape himself drilled into me, so really, he should have known better than to talk to you with me in the room…” Harry trailed off as Draco’s eyes widened in alarm

 

“Potter? You’re telling me that Snape has been *training* you?”

 

Harry got that ‘oh shite’ look on his face. It occurred to him – too late perhaps – that Draco *could* be in league with Voldemort, and have no idea of what Snape was doing – being a spy for the Order – and Harry had essentially just blown his cover. “Er, um… no?”

 

Draco scowled at Harry and narrowed his eyes in distrust. “I think we need to talk, Potter. Now.”

 

Harry sighed and nodded his head. “Alright, Malfoy, but not here. Come on.”

 

Harry turned and walked toward the front entrance, after a few seconds, Draco followed. “Where are we going?”

 

“Someplace where we can talk without being overheard,” Harry replied. And where I can Obliviate you if necessary, he continued silently.

 

 

The tunnel beneath the Whomping Willow wasn’t necessarily the best place for this kind of conversation, but the look on Draco’s face when he’d seen where they were headed more than made up for the uncomfortable conditions. Just thinking about the panic-stricken look on the Slytherin’s face made Harry smile.

 

“How long have you known about this, Potter? And where does it lead to?” Draco had that look again, the one that clearly showed he was annoyed by Harry’s knowledge of the school and surrounding property. The look that just screamed ‘unfair’ and that he, as a pure-blood and a Slytherin, should be the one with all the sneaky secrets.

 

“Um, well I’ve known about this since third year, and it leads into Hogsmeade, the Shrieking Shack to be exact,” Harry shrugged his shoulders. “But that’s not what you really want to know is it, Malfoy. We’re here to talk about Snape, and what he’s been teaching me. Or have you decided you don’t care?”

 

“No, I still want answers about that, but somehow, every time I’m around you lately, I find myself with more and more questions. It’s bloody annoying, really. I mean, seven years of constant bickering, duelling in the halls, competing on the pitch, and I find that I know next to nothing about you,” Draco sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “So much for the old adage of know thine enemy.”

 

Harry laughed. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, Malfoy, I don’t know all that much about you either. Then again, I never really considered you my enemy. I mean, next to Voldemort, your father, my family, and the rest of the Death Eaters, you were just a mild annoyance. And a decent Seeker.”

 

Draco blinked. He had been about to yell at Potter for insinuating that he wasn’t a threat, but then the last thing he said had registered. “Did you just compliment me, Potter?”

 

“Yes. I did.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Uh, because it’s true? Face it Draco, your the best player on your team, and the only seeker – since Diggory – who’s ever beaten me. I probably would have given up Quidditch after fifth year if it wasn’t for you.”

 

Draco stared hard at Harry for a minute, then an incredulous look crossed his face. “It was you! You sent me the Firebolt at the beginning of sixth year!” Draco marched up to Harry and got right in his face. “Why?”

 

“Because I wanted you to be evenly matched with me. I wanted a challenge and I knew you were the only one who could give it to me. Quidditch was all I had keeping me sane that year and I needed to know that it was me, my skill and not my *broom*, that made me win,” Harry closed his eyes, took a deep breath and then whispered, “do you understand that, Draco?”

 

‘Harry Potter bought me a Firebolt!’

 

That was the only thought running through Draco’s head. His own father had refused him, even though the price of the broom would have been pocket change to Lucius Malfoy. Even after his father’s imprisonment, he hadn’t been able to talk his mother around. Then, on the first day of classes, in the Great Hall during breakfast, he’d received a large, broom-shaped parcel. Thinking his mother had sent it as a surprise, he gleefully tore into the wrappings to find his own shiny, new Firebolt. The note attached had said it had been ordered and paid for anonymously, and that the sender wished him a good season.

 

Draco had immediately written his mother and asked if it was her doing, then he’d waited – none too patiently – for her reply, only to find out that she wasn’t responsible. He didn’t have a clue who would have sent it, and really, at the time, he didn’t care. He had a *Firebolt*, and finally, he’d beaten Harry Potter!

 

The first game of the season had been Slytherin versus Ravenclaw and he’d flown circles around Cho Chang. He’d caught the Snitch easily, and couldn’t help but crow in delight as he flew several laps around the pitch – the Snitch still held tightly in his fist. He couldn’t wait to play Gryffindor; his whole team was high on their victory, and the following week, when the match against Gryffindor came – he felt like a god.

 

The match had gone on for *hours*. It was the longest match their two teams had ever played against one another. He and Potter had been damn near evenly matched. They’d raced, dove, feinted, and smashed into one another repeatedly, all in an effort to catch the little golden ball. And then, finally, by less than an inch, Draco’s fingers closed over the snitch just as Harry’s fingers closed over Draco’s fist.

 

He’d been so happy, he’d actually smiled at Potter.

 

Now that he thought about it, Draco realized that Harry had smiled back.

 

“You bought me a Firebolt,” Draco’s shocked exclamation made Harry smile, just a little. “You. Bought me. A Firebolt?”

 

“Yes, I did.”

 

“Thank you?” Draco really didn’t know what to say to Harry. It wasn’t everyday that you found out the person you considered your biggest enemy didn’t really hate you, and on top of it all, he’d given you the one gift you really wanted. And didn’t even take credit for it.

 

Harry laughed. He couldn’t help it, Draco had voiced his thanks as a question, as if he wasn’t sure whether he should be grateful for the broom, or indignant that it had come from him, of all people. “Please, don’t thank me. I did it for myself as much, or maybe more so, as you.”

 

The selfishness of Harry’s actions seemed to make Draco feel better about receiving the gift. “Alright, I won’t thank you. Now, about Snape. What exactly is he teaching you?”

 

 

Occlumency. Legilimency. Meditation. Observation skills. Curses and counter-curses. The Unforgivables.

 

Draco couldn’t believe it. His Head of House, the man who made an art form of docking points from Gryffindor – Potter in particular, a member of Voldemort’s inner circle, was teaching the Dark Lord’s greatest adversary how to defend himself. It boggled the mind.

 

“So, Snape’s a double-agent?” Draco asked in awe. “I didn’t see that one coming. I mean, he hates you. Everyone knows that.”

 

Harry chuckled. “Yeah, he does, but he’s the best teacher I could have for this stuff. He doesn’t coddle me, or blow smoke up my arse, he tells me what he wants from me and let’s me have it if I don’t live up to his expectations. Plus, I think he gets a perverse pleasure in putting the Cruciatus on me.”

 

Draco’s eyes widened in shock. “He puts the Cruciatus on you? And Dumbledore lets him?”

 

“It was Dumbledore’s idea. I can withstand the pain for almost fifteen minutes before crying out now. At first, I screamed almost right away,” Harry shrugged his shoulders. “Have you ever been put under the Cruciatus, Draco?”

 

“Once,” Draco replied and shuddered at the memory of it. It felt as if every bone in his body was being broken into tiny pieces. And Potter can withstand that for nearly fifteen minutes? He thought to himself.

 

“Then you know.”

 

Draco nodded. He did indeed know. The Dark Lord didn’t stand a chance.

 

“So, now that you know about Snape, what are you going to do?” Harry hoped he wouldn’t have to curse Draco; he wanted to be able to trust him, to be able to talk to him. He was the only one – other than Snape – who knew his darkest secret, and he thought it just might make them friends. Better late than never.

 

“Well, if I were planning on joining the Death Eaters, I’d turn him in to Voldemort. Surely it would put me in a high position within his ranks, but since I have no intentions of bowing down to an insane half-blood, I guess I’ll do nothing.”

 

Harry let out a sigh of relief. “Good to hear. I wouldn’t have liked to have had to Obliviate you.”

 

Draco raised an eyebrow. “You can do that?”

 

“Easily. Of course the problem with that curse is that it’s reversible. If someone realized you’d had your memory altered they’d be able to restore it. Well, if they were powerful enough, anyway,” Harry grinned as Draco shook his head.

 

“You’re a sneaky bastard, Potter; why is it you weren’t sorted into Slytherin?”

 

Harry laughed. “Maybe I was.”

 

  Top

Original Posting Date: Sat, 26 Jun 2004 10:36:23 -0400 (EDT)

 

Everything you say to me, takes me one step closer to the edge and I’m about to break – Linkin Park

 

Part 6

 

After leaving Draco at the front entrance, Harry made his way back up to the Gryffindor tower feeling better than he had since the attack. It felt… good to talk with Draco, to laugh with him. Even though he was positive that the other boy had been about to hex him when he’d found out that Harry had sent him the broom back in sixth year, Harry felt that he could trust Draco now.

 

Harry was so lost in his thoughts on Draco, that he didn’t hear the person approaching him and when a firm hand came down on his shoulder he spun around and shouted, “Expelliarmus! Stupefy!”

 

Seamus and Dean didn’t know what hit them as one of them flew backwards, and the other found himself unable to move and toppling toward the floor. Harry watched in a fascinated kind of horror as Dean picked himself up off the floor and rubbed the back of his head. His fingers came away bloody.

 

“Geez, Harry, remind me not to sneak up on you ever again,” Dean mumbled as he came closer. “Uh, you think you could let Seamus go now?”

 

Harry blinked and then, with his wand still trained on Seamus, murmured, “Ennervate.”

 

Seamus groaned and got to his feet. He reached down and picked something up off the floor and then stood straight again. “I was only trying to return your broom, mate. Someone left it outside the portrait with a note on it,” Seamus spoke as he pulled a slip of parchment from his pocket. He read:

 

You should be more careful, Potter. You never know what some people might try and get up to with your broom handle.

 

Seamus laughed, “Can you imagine? I mean, if Creevy had gotten hold of it, you might have to force him to marry it, eh?”

 

Dean joined in the laughter with Seamus; neither boy noticed as Harry’s face drained of colour and he started to shake. It was only when he turned and bolted from the hallway and back down the stairs that they stopped chuckling and frowned in confusion.

 

“Ah well, I’ll just take it up and leave it by his bed then,” Seamus said, shrugging his shoulders and taking the last few steps toward the Fat Lady and the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. Dean followed behind him, still rubbing at the back of his head.

 

 

Harry ran. He didn’t know where he was going, or why he was running, he just ran. He took off out the front doors and across the lawn toward the Whomping Willow, following the same path he had led Draco down earlier that night. It wasn’t until he was safely ensconced in the old Shrieking Shack that he finally let himself stop.

 

He collapsed onto the floor of the old living room and crawled into a corner. Pulling his knees up to his chest he rested his head on them and let himself cry. Strange how it wasn’t nearly as cathartic without Draco there to hold him this time.

 

 

“And he just took off?” Ron asked when Dean had finished explaining what had happened in the hallway.

 

“Yeah, he seemed really freaked out. I mean, it’s not like him to go flinging hexes around like that, or to run off without even saying sorry,” Dean said as he shook his head. “I mean, I saw him with Malfoy earlier, and maybe he said something to rile Harry up, but it didn’t look like they were arguing. In fact, they seemed to be laughing together.”

 

Ron’s eyebrows climbed into his hairline. “Harry and Malfoy? Laughing together? Tell me you’re joking, mate.”

 

“No joke,” Seamus answered. “I saw it too.”

 

“Bloody Hell,” Ron whispered. “It’s the end of the world, I tell you. Harry, laughing with a Malfoy,” Ron shook his head. “It’s just wrong.”

 

There were muffled sounds of agreement from Dean and Seamus while Neville sat quietly, gazing out of the window as a lone figure made it’s way across the grass in the pale moonlight.

 

 

“Potter?” Draco whispered as he watched Harry come running down the stairs and out the front doors. He had been sitting on the stairs debating on whether to go to his dorm or back to Snape’s to sleep after Harry had left to go back to Gryffindor. He had barely gotten six feet away from the staircase when Harry flew through like he was being chased by hellhounds.

 

Giving no further thought to his sleeping arrangements, he headed out into the night after the obviously distraught Gryffindor, and when he saw where he was headed, he knew that at least he didn’t have to worry about losing track of him.

 

Making his way through the tunnel, Draco cursed softly to himself. If he’d known he was going to spend his evening traipsing around in dirty, dusty tunnels and getting cobwebs in his hair, he would have taken one of Goyle’s cloaks to put on over his clothes.

 

Finally, emerging from a trapdoor into what looked like the parlour of what had once probably been a nice house, he heard Harry’s choked sobs and made his way across to the far corner of the room. Crouching down, Draco tentatively placed his hand on the back of Harry’s head. “Potter, what’s wrong?”

 

Harry didn’t answer, just shook his head and tried to stop crying. It didn’t even register that Draco had touched him and he hadn’t cursed him into oblivion. He was too upset to really think about it just then.

 

Draco sighed and shifted so that he was sitting beside Harry, his back against the wall, and he draped one arm around Harry and pulled him closer. “You don’t have to tell me what happened, Harry. Just answer me one thing. Did someone try to attack you again?”

 

Harry shook his head no and Draco let out a relieved breath. “Are you hurt in any way?”

 

Another head shake and Draco tightened his arm around the still sniffling boy. “Do you want me to go?”

 

Harry’s head shot up and wide, panic stricken eyes turned on Draco. “No! I-I mean, no. Please, stay.”

 

“Alright Potter,” Harry frowned and Draco chuckled. “Harry. I’ll stay.”

 

Harry sighed and leaned into Draco and closed his eyes. They stayed like that in silence for a little while before Harry spoke. “They brought my broom back,” he whispered. “There was a note, a warning. Kind of a… reminder. It upset me.”

 

What did it say?” Draco asked softly as he ran his hand up and down Harry’s arm in a soothing manner.

 

“That I should be careful, and that I never know what,” Harry voice cracked, “what some people might get up to with my broom handle.”

 

Draco was livid. “Bloody bastards,” he hissed. “I’ll skin them alive, I’ll lock them in the dungeons and torture them non-stop for days, I’ll – I’ll feed them Longbottom’s potions and deny them medical care!”

 

Harry couldn’t help but feel a little better that Draco was so angry on his behalf, plus the idea of making them drink Neville’s potion blunders was kind of amusing – in an ‘I so want to do that’ kind of way.

 

“No,” Harry whispered. “I have a better idea.”

 

Looking up at Draco’s curious expression, Harry smiled and asked, “Draco, can you keep a secret?”

 

“With the right incentive, Potter. Why?”

 

“If you promise not to tell, I’ll show you,” Harry smirked.

 

Draco was a good study of character. He knew this, and had always trusted his instincts when it came to other people. His instincts at that moment were telling him that Harry Potter was not the boy he’d thought he was, that he had a darkness in him that had been recently brought to the surface – no doubts about why – and that if he agreed to keep Harry’s secrets, he’d learn things that his father had never even dreamed about. It wasn’t a hard decision to make. “Alright, Harry. I’ll keep your secrets, now show me what you have in mind.”

 

“Not here,” Harry said as he got to his feet.

 

“I’m hearing that a lot from you tonight, Harry. So, where then?”

 

“Third floor, Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, come on.”

 

Draco gaped at Harry for a minute before following him down into the tunnel and back toward the school. “You better have a damn good reason for this, Potter. That bloody ghost is a pervert, she’s always popping up in the prefects’ bathroom when I’m in there.”

 

Harry just laughed. “And here I thought she had better taste, Malfoy; I mean, she’s been doing that to me since second year.”

 

 

“Okay, Harry,” Draco folded his arms over his chest and looked around the empty bathroom, an unamused expression on his face. “You’ve managed to get me in here, now what?”

 

“Watch and learn,” Harry said as he walked up to the sink and hissed in Parseltongue.

 

Draco jumped back as the sink began to move and looked at Harry in shock. “Just how many of these secret passageways do you know of?”

 

“A few,” Harry answered and shrugged his shoulders. “But this one’s special. I’m the only one who can open it. Parselmouth, remember?”

 

Draco rolled his eyes. “Like I could forget, and even if I had, you just spoke Parseltongue in front of me, so I think it might have refreshed my memory.” At Harry’s sheepish grin, Draco continued. “So, oh great snake-speaker, where does this lead to?”

 

Harry gave Draco a look that sent chills down his spine, a smile that was so dark, so out of place on the Gryffindor’s Golden Boy, Draco couldn’t quite suppress a small shudder.

 

“Welcome,” Harry spoke in a soft, hypnotizing voice. “Draco Malfoy, to the Chamber of Secrets.” Then he jumped into the hole in the floor and disappeared.

 

“Bloody hell,” Draco whispered. “The Chamber of Secrets? I always wanted to see it, and it looks like I got my wish.” He took a deep, fortifying breath and followed after Harry.

 

 

Ron Weasley lay awake staring at the ceiling. The others had long given up on waiting for Harry and had retired to bed, but Ron just couldn’t sleep. The image of Harry and Malfoy together wouldn’t leave his mind. If they were laughing together, what else were they doing that he wasn’t aware of? It was no secret that Harry was interested in blokes, at least it wasn’t a secret in the seventh year boys’ dorm. And you could tell just by looking at Malfoy that he was a bloody shirt-lifter. Not that there was anything wrong with that, Ron hastily amended. Although, if it weren’t for Harry being gay, he doubted he’d have bothered.

 

His brain kept supplying him with images of Harry and ferret-face locked in a passionate embrace. If it were anyone else Harry was shagging, he would have been okay with it, really, well, as long as it wasn’t the other Malfoy, or You-Know-Who. Or Crabbe, or Goyle, or Colin Creevy – cause that was just creepy.

 

Sighing heavily, Ron turned over in bed and closed his eyes. “Bloody hell, Harry. Where are you?” he whispered.

 

 

Draco was amazed. It was nothing like he’d pictured it, but so much better than he had imagined. Harry gave him a guided tour of where he had found Ginny Weasley, the tunnels he’d run through in an attempt to escape the Basilisk, the spot where he’d finally killed the giant snake and the sixteen year old Tom Riddle. It was so easy to picture it all as Harry talked, like he could close his eyes and watch it play out as it really had. He was once again envious that Harry had refused his friendship back in first year. To be a part of something like that… But then again, he was a part of it now and he didn’t have to deal with a killer snake, so all things considered, this was probably better.

 

“You haven’t seen the best part yet, Malfoy,” Harry’s softly spoken words snapped Draco out of his musings and he looked up to see that Potter had that evil glint in his eye again. Yes, he could definitely see why people followed him. If Potter had a mind for it, he could not only do away with Voldemort, but replace him as well.

 

“Well then, get on with it. Show me all of your secrets, Potter.”

 

Harry chuckled. “Not all of them, but I’ll show you why I brought you down here. But first,” Harry continued, “Your word that this stays between us. And Draco? I’ll know if you tell anyone.”

 

Draco didn’t know how Harry would know, but he believed him when he said he would. “I give you my word as a Malfoy, whatever you show me down here will remain between us.” Draco stuck out his hand and couldn’t help but smile when Harry took it without hesitation.

 

“Alright then, follow me,” Harry turned on his heel and walked toward Salazar’s study. As a Slytherin, he was sure that Draco would appreciate what he was going to see.

 

At the double doors, Harry once again greeted the snakes, introduced them to Draco, and then stepped into the room. He turned back to watch as Draco walked in, an inquisitive look on his face. “Draco, you are only the second person to step through those doors since Salazar Slytherin himself last used this room – I was the first. Welcome to Slytherin’s study.”

 

  Top

Original Posting Date: Thu, 1 Jul 2004 12:11:05 -0400 (EDT)

 

Can't help if I space in a daze. My eyes tune out the other way. I may switch off and go in a daydream. In this head my thoughts are deep, but sometimes I can't even speak – Avril Lavigne

 

Part 7

 

Harry watched in amusement as Draco looked around him in awe. His eyes couldn’t stay on any one thing long enough to really take in its significance. He looked like Harry imagined he must have, a long time ago, when he’d first stepped into Diagon Alley. “You can touch stuff, Malfoy. Nothing will bite.”

 

It seemed that permission was the only thing the blond had been waiting for, and, not surprisingly, it was the potions lab he went to first. “Merlin, Harry. Do you have any idea of what you’ve found here?” Draco whispered as he ran his fingers lightly over the various bottles and implements. “Some of these ingredients were banned by the Ministry centuries ago, and they’re still perfectly preserved!”

 

Harry snorted. “I had no idea. Then again, I’m shite with potions; you should have expected that.”

 

“True, but did you even look at these bottles?” Draco inquired.

 

Harry shook his head.

 

“Why not?” the blond asked.

 

“I was busy reading.” Harry pointed out the bookshelves and Draco immediately moved toward them. Harry followed behind him. “Actually, that’s the reason I brought you down here. I found something… very interesting. Something I think will teach those bastards a lesson they won’t ever forget. I wanted to show you a book, or a set of books, actually.”

 

Harry went to the shelf and removed Salazar’s journals. He handed the first one to Draco and watched as he opened the book. When the blond turned an inquisitive look on him, Harry frowned. “What?”

 

“Why did you want me to look at an empty book, Potter?”

 

Harry took the book from Draco’s hands and blinked in confusion. “It’s not blank, Malfoy. Look.”

 

Draco stepped in closer beside Harry and peered over at the book. “Huh, well that’s strange. Let me see it again?”

 

Harry handed the book back and watched as the writing faded away to nothing as soon as he was no longer touching it. “Oh,” was all he said.

 

“Well, I suppose if I am to read this, you’ll have to hold it for me,” Draco spoke as if it were the most logical statement in the world before pulling Harry to the sofa and seating them both side by side. As Harry squirmed a bit uncomfortably, Draco looked at him and asked, “Is something wrong?”

 

“No,” Harry replied.

 

“Then sit still, you’re shaking the book.”

 

Harry held himself still as Draco leaned into his shoulder to get a better view of the pages. They remained quiet except for the occasional softly spoken request for Harry to turn the page. When Draco finished reading the part that Harry wanted him to see, he sat up and with a low whistle, and looked at Harry with something akin to awe on his face. “You really think you can do this? I mean, Salazar himself didn’t have enough power or discipline to master this spell. What makes you think you can?”

 

The question was asked in honesty, not malice or contempt, so Harry felt obliged to answer without taking it personally. “I’ve never told anyone this before, and I don’t really understand why I’m telling you of all people, but here goes,” Harry looked Draco in the eye and then spoke. “I have more power than Voldemort and Dumbledore combined. I’m not only a direct descendant of Godric Gryffindor, but because of my connection to Voldemort, in some way, I’m descended from Salazar as well.”

 

“Even still…” Draco made to interrupt.

 

“That’s not all,” Harry continued. “My mother, Lily Evans, wasn’t a Muggleborn.” Harry shook his head. “Well, see, my grandparents were separated for a while after my aunt Petunia was born and my grandmother had an affair. With a wizard. My mother was what you would call a half-blood. Her father, well, this is the part that gets a bit… weird.”

 

Draco made a ‘go on’ motion, listening avidly as Harry told him things that no one outside of Harry and Dumbledore himself knew.

 

“Well, I’m sure you know more about ancient wizardry than I do, so how familiar are you with the story of Merlin?” Harry asked as Draco sat up straighter and blinked.

 

“I know he was the most powerful wizard ever born, that he could do things that others could never dream of. I also know that he took that power to the grave with him, leaving no heir to his name, nor his magicks. Why? Are you going to tell me he was secretly married and you’re his long lost heir and progeny?” Draco looked sceptical and Harry shook his head.

 

“No, I’m not. From what I understand, he never did marry. And I’m not his long lost heir, but I am his progeny.” Harry took a deep breath, “Malfoy, Merlin was a time traveler, you knew that, right?”

 

“Yes. It was never proven, but he claimed to be able to not only see the future, but to travel there as well. What are you trying to tell me, Potter?”

 

“Merlin was my grandfather, Draco. I have the power of three of the greatest wizards of all time flowing through me, I can throw off any curse you aim at me, including the Avada Kedavra. Dumbledore has kept this a secret from everyone, including me, until the beginning of this year. He’s had Snape training me to sustain curses so that I could understand their mechanics. I can withstand Cruciatus for 15 minutes, but if I wanted to, I could throw it off in about 2 seconds.”

 

“Bloody hell,” Draco whispered. He just now realized that he was essentially in an unplottable cavern beneath the school with the most powerful wizard in the world and that no one knew where they were. If Harry wanted to hurt him, kill him, use him for target practice, he’d be screwed. Then suddenly he blurted out, “Harry, if you’re so powerful, how were Blaise and the others able to… do that to you?”

 

He regretted the question as he saw Harry’s eyes flash in anger as a cold mask slipped into place on his once open expression. “Zabini used a spell I’d never heard of before, I couldn’t block it or throw it off. Not at the time, but I can now.”

 

Clearing his throat, Draco asked, “What, what was it?”

 

“Perstringo strictum,” Harry answered. “Essentially, it binds a person’s magic. Leaves them helpless.”

 

Draco swallowed; a queasy feeling in his stomach. “Lucius,” he whispered. “He, he taught it to us in fourth year. I never, I didn’t think Zabini would even remember it.”

 

“Apparently he did,” Harry whispered in reply.

 

They sat quietly for a long time, Draco coming to grips with everything that Harry had told him, and Harry silently wondering why he had chosen to confide in Draco Malfoy of all people, about things he’d never even told Ron or Hermione.

 

Eventually, Draco broke the silence when he turned to Harry and nodded at him. “What ever you decide to do to them, I’m in.”

 

Harry smiled that chilling smile, and Draco shivered. Malfoys, it seemed, had always been drawn to power, and he had just been made trusted confidant of the most powerful wizard in the world. Knowing what Harry Potter was capable of, Draco now felt a whole lot better about his fairly recent attraction to the other boy.

 

 

There had to be something more going on than he was seeing, Snape thought to himself. The idea of Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter as anything other than bitter rivals was difficult to even consider, but when faced with the facts, he had to concur that he was correct. They were no longer adversaries, and if he was honest, he thought they might actually be moving in the direction of becoming friends. “Oh, Lucius,” he muttered with a small chuckle, “If you had any idea…”

 

Snape had never wanted Draco to join the Death Eaters, he would have done anything in his power – short of blowing his own cover – to keep him as far away from Voldemort and his followers as possible. But allying him with Potter was not something he ever imagined. First, he was certain the younger Malfoy hated the other boy, and second, well, befriending Potter was as good as painting a target on your back. Never the less, it looked as though that was what was happening.

 

The entire situation was absurd, Draco being the one to find Potter after his unfortunate attack should not have resulted in them becoming fast friends. In fact, if asked before hand, given this possible scenario, Snape would have put money on Draco furthering Potter’s humiliation by spreading the tale to every gossip rag in the country. It was a good thing he hadn’t made such a bet; he’d have lost his shirt.

 

The question now was, did he encourage Draco and Harry’s friendship – having the younger Malfoy on their side would be quite a boon to the Order – or did he try and talk Draco out of this foolishness before it got him killed?

 

“And what if it sends him running straight into the waiting arms of Voldemort?” Snape asked himself. “Then what?”

 

Then what indeed. As much as he hated the entire idea, he needed to talk to someone about this, and the only person he could think of was Albus Dumbledore.

 

 

There was something bothering Draco about Harry. If it was true, and he really was this all-powerful wizard, why then, did he not just walk straight up to Voldemort, curse him and be done with it? One thing about Draco that he hid incredibly well, was that he was curious to a fault. Not too many people knew that, and he was glad for it, but right here, right now, he was about to expose that part of himself to Harry Potter, because regardless of the consequences – and they could be horrendous – he had to know what was holding the other wizard back.

 

“Harry?” Draco asked. “Can I ask you something without you hexing me into oblivion?”

 

Harry snorted. “You just did, Malfoy.” When Draco rolled his eyes, Harry went on. “But go ahead and ask me something else; I won’t hex you. Promise.”

 

Draco relaxed at the promise, there were certain things you count on in life: Snape was greasy, Weasleys were poor, Slytherin females were always ugly, and Harry Potter never broke a promise. “Alright then, why haven’t you taken care of Voldemort? If you’re as powerful as you say you are – and I’m not questioning you on that!” Draco hastily added. “Why haven’t you just cursed his arse and have done with it?”

 

Harry seemed to consider his reply before speaking. “I don’t want to be a murderer, Draco. Until this year, I didn’t know who I was, what I was, what I was capable of. I can’t just walk up to him in the street – so to speak – and kill him. Don’t get me wrong, I want him dead, and I will kill him, but it’ll be in defence of myself or someone else. Not in cold blood. Not the way he killed my parents. I won’t become what he is.”

 

Draco nodded. “Fair enough. So?” He looked around the room again, “What other nasty little things have you found in this room?”

 

Harry chuckled. “Nothing, yet. I’d only just started to look around when I found these journals. I haven’t really looked at anything else yet.”

 

“Can I…” Draco looked toward the book shelves and Harry nodded.

 

“Sure, just let me know if you find anything interesting.”

 

 

It was late and Ron Weasley was still awake. This in itself was an oddity because if there was one thing Ron liked – other than food of course – it was sleep. But he wouldn’t sleep until Harry was back in the dorm, until he knew where he had been, why he had run off, and what Malfoy had to do with everything.

 

If Harry was shagging Malfoy, well, Ron certainly wasn’t going to be happy about, but he’d accept it. So long as Harry didn’t expect him to like the little ferret. Or be nice to him. Or even tolerant.

 

Aw hell, Ron thought to himself, it just isn’t going to work. Weasleys and Malfoys were like oil and water, they just didn’t mix. He couldn’t imagine spending five minutes in the same room as Malfoy without hexing him, or hitting him. Not even for Harry.

 

It was such a sudden realization for Ron that he couldn’t help but leap to his feet in shock. He was going to lose his best friend. To Malfoy. And there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Oh he knew that Harry would try to bring him around gently, to tell him that Malfoy wasn’t who he thought, that he had changed, or some rot. It might even work for a little while, but in the end, Draco Malfoy was a Slytherin, a Death Eater – or at the very least a sympathizer – and a muggleborn hater. All things that Ron couldn’t tolerate. Things he thought Harry felt the same way about. No, it was much more likely that Harry had been the one to change, to come around to Malfoy’s way of thinking. And if that were the case, then it wasn’t just him that was going to be betrayed, Ron might lose a friend, but the wizarding world at large was about to lose it’s saviour.

 

“Bloody hell,” Ron whispered to himself and made his way toward the door. He needed to talk to Hermione about this, hopefully she would tell him he was being paranoid and make him see reason, but somehow, he just knew that he was right, it really was the end of the world.

 

 

It was odd, Draco thought as he glanced over at Harry, how quickly things had changed. He had gone from hating Harry Potter and everything he stood for, to being his rescuer, confidant, and co-conspirator in a matter of days. Then again, most of his preconceived notions about Potter had been blown out of the water rather recently. His parentage for example. Although, it did make it much more acceptable to find the other wizard attractive now. Even his father wouldn’t shun him for sleeping with the male heir of both Slytherin and Gryffindor. Not to mention being the blood progeny of Merlin himself. No, in fact, Draco was pretty sure, had his father known about Potter’s pedigree, he’d have prostituted himself out in hope of garnering his favour. He’d done it with Voldemort after all.

 

That was one more reason as far as Draco was concerned for not becoming a Death Eater. He chose his bed partners carefully, and always for either aesthetic reasons or power. He would not allow himself to be buggered out of fear. Sleeping with Harry Potter would fall under both categories, he was powerful – extremely so – and he was attractive. In an unkempt, fashion-challenged way.

 

Draco was mentally dressing Harry in expensive robes and shoes, imagining how he would look with a little care applied to his hair and without his awful glasses when a soft chuckle broke into his musings.

 

“You know, most people tend to *undress* someone with their eyes, Draco.”

 

Draco started and then raised an eyebrow in question. “And just what makes you think I was doing that?”

 

Harry tapped the book. “I peeked.”

 

“You…” Draco was flabbergasted. “You read my mind? That easily?”

 

Harry nodded.

 

“I didn’t even hear you cast a spell, see you raise your wand…”

 

“I didn’t. I only had to touch my wand, and think the spell. After I’ve done it a few times, I won’t even need my wand to do it,” Harry replied with a shrug of his shoulders. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I was powerful, Draco.”

 

“No, you obviously weren’t,” Draco answered with wonder in his voice before his expression changed to one of reluctant acceptance. “I suppose asking you not to read me without permission is out of the question. But if you would do me the courtesy of not mentioning anything you happen to find out about me to anyone else, I would appreciate it.”

 

Harry nodded. “I didn’t mean to pry, I was just sort of curious. You were staring at me for a while and I wanted to know why. Although, if you really do want to dress me, I could use some new clothes, and advice on what looks good.” Harry cracked up at the anticipation his remark brought out on the other boy’s face.

 

“We’ll go into London next weekend,” Draco said, “there are some fabulous shops in Diagon Alley. I know exactly what to get you, and then we’ll have your hair taken care of, and get your vision corrected, and then…”

 

Harry laughed. “Why do I feel like a Ken Doll?”

 

“A what?” Draco asked, perplexed.

 

“It’s a fashion doll – a muggle thing, there’s Barbie and Ken – little muggle children, mostly girls, play with them, You dress them up in all these glamorous clothes and pretend to have fashion shows and weddings and whatnot with them.”

 

Draco smirked. “Why, Potter, did you play with dolls as a child?”

 

Harry shook his head and grinned. “Nope, my cousin Dudley did.”

 

“Hmm, even still, I can’t say that I don’t find the idea of having my very own… Ken Doll did you say? To dress up and play with, an interesting prospect. Would you let me play with you Potter?”

 

Draco knew he was pushing it, but the Malfoy in him couldn’t help it. He was attracted to Harry’s power, his physical appearance, and, he had to admit, his naiveté as well. Harry had read his mind, so he must know what he wanted from him, the question was, what did Harry want from Draco?

 

“No,” Harry whispered. “I’m not a plaything, Malfoy.” Harry leaned in and brushed his lips over the blond’s. “But if you’re looking for something more substantial, you just might get it.”

 

“Substantial’s good,” Draco whispered back against Harry’s lips before his mouth was taken in a much firmer kiss.

 

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Original Posting Date: Tue, 6 Jul 2004 00:02:25 -0400 (EDT)

 

It’s a sign of the times, it’s the ultimate crime, guilty of being caught red handed. The roll of the dice says your gonna do time, guilty of being caught red handed. – Descendents

 

Part 8

 

It was nearly dawn when the portrait hole opened and an invisible presence slipped into the Gryffindor common room. It would have gone unnoticed if not for the two people who had been sitting quietly in the dark for some time now, waiting for just such a presence to arrive.

 

“Harry, wait,” Ron said as he got to his feet. “We need to talk.”

 

There was a rustle of fabric and then a somewhat disheveled Harry Potter materialized by the stairs to the boys dorm.

 

“Ron, what are you doing up? It’s nearly five thirty.”

 

“We waited up for you, me and Hermione.” Ron waved his hand, indicating the girl standing slightly behind him. “I was – we were worried about you. Dean and Seamus told us what happened earlier, that you hexed them and then ran off.” Ron scratched his head, deciding to leave Malfoy out of it for the time being. “What the hell happened, Harry, where have you been?”

 

Harry sighed and ran his hands through his hair. He had been hoping to avoid this conversation for as long as possible. He didn’t know how to tell his best friends that he wasn’t the same boy that they had befriended back in first year. That he had learned so much more about himself, his “purpose”, his family and his power. How could he tell Ron that there was yet one more thing that set him aside, that made him different, that made him better than everyone else? He would lose Ron’s friendship for sure.

 

And Hermione? How could he ever look her in the eye if he admitted that he had been raped? That he, the most powerful wizard in the world, had been captured, subdued and then defiled by a bunch of his peers? She would pity him, and he couldn’t stand bear that sentiment.

 

He was supposed to be their saviour, how would they feel knowing how easily he had been taken? Would they lose faith in him? He wouldn’t be surprised if they did.

 

“I was just out walking, thinking, you know?” Harry tried to be vague but reassuring. He really didn’t want to talk about this.

 

“No, Harry, we don’t know,” Ron huffed in annoyance. “You never talk to us about anything important anymore. You’ve been like this ever since the end of fifth year, ever since Siri-”

 

“Don’t, Ron!” Harry cut him off. “Just… don’t. Okay? I don’t want to talk about it; there’s nothing to talk about, in fact. I just wanted some time alone and so I went for a walk. End of story. And now, I’m rather knackered so I’m going to bed.” Harry turned away and headed up the stairs. “Goodnight, Hermione. Ron.”

 

The two Gryffindors at the bottom of the stairs watched in silence as Harry ascended the steps and then turned to look at one another as the door of the seventh year boys’ dorm closed with a soft click.

 

Ron blinked in shock. “Herm, what the hell just happened?”

 

“I don’t know, Ron, but you’re right about one thing. Harry is definitely keeping something from us. Something big.” Hermione shook her head sadly as she thought about what it might be… what she was pretty sure it was, in fact. Ron might have been oblivious, but Harry’s rumpled state, swollen mouth, and messier-than-usual hair hadn’t gone unnoticed by her. Nor had the rather livid, red, suck-mark on his throat.

 

 

After stripping down and climbing into bed, Harry lay awake staring at the ceiling in the soft, predawn light. He hadn’t been lying when he told Ron and Hermione that he was knackered, but now that he was in bed, his mind was running a mile a minute. It was probably trying to process all the strange events he’d been through in the past 48 hours. The attack, the books in the Chamber of Secrets, the spells, his budding… friendship? with Malfoy.

 

Then there was the sex.

 

With Malfoy.

 

It wasn’t like he hadn’t ever noticed the blond boy before; if there was one thing the Malfoy family had going for them besides money, it was looks. But Draco had always just been someone to look at, not touch. Harry really didn’t even want to touch him, truth be told. Not until recently anyway.

 

There was something so refreshing about Draco. He didn’t bullshit about what he wanted, or why he wanted it. The little peek Harry had taken into his mind was a revelation. Draco wanted Harry for his power, Harry knew this, but instead of trying to hide that fact, or talk his way out of it, he openly admitted it. But it wasn’t the only reason Draco wanted him. The events of the past two days had changed his entire perspective. Draco now saw him, Harry, not The-Boy-Who-Lived, and he wanted him.

 

Harry wasn’t used to people being so honest with him; his other lovers had always told him that all that “Boy-Who-Lived” crap wasn’t an issue, that it had nothing to do with what they felt for him. He knew they were lying, possibly even to themselves, but he wanted to believe them, so he had. Both times, it was his fame that ended the relationship; the others just couldn’t handle it. The idea of people finding about their relationship with Harry terrified them.

 

Draco was different in that area; he handled fame amazingly well, better than Harry himself ever would. He wasn’t ashamed of wanting power, wanting to be associated with it. Maybe it was a Malfoy thing, but whatever it was, Harry liked it. Draco wanted him, and Harry had to admit that he wanted Draco in return. He needed someone he could trust, and surprisingly, Malfoy was that someone.

 

Then again, maybe it shouldn’t have come as such a surprise. Lucius had been Voldemort’s trusted advisor for years until he’d been incarcerated. Perhaps with Malfoys, all it took to gain their loyalty was power and similar beliefs. And surprisingly, he found that he was starting to embrace some of Draco’s beliefs; at least, the concept behind them anyway.

 

After the sex, which had been incredible, they had talked for a while and Draco had explained a few things about pureblood wizard families, and the damage done to society by muggleborn prejudices. Draco had told Harry how it was muggleborns, with their stunted beliefs, who brought homophobia into the wizarding world, as well as racism, sexism, and any number of other class issues – including financial status. That if it weren’t for these attitudes, the Malfoys and the Weasleys might have been allies instead of enemies. That almost every so-called Dark Lord has been called that because of his views on Muggles, and the funniest thing was that not one of them had ever been a pureblood. And what did that say about the muggleborn and half-bloods?

 

 

~Flashback~

 

“It’s not abnormal, or whatever it is Muggles call it. Wizards and witches have never been bothered by gender issues, at least not in the past,” Draco sighed and sat up. He picked up his robe from the floor and pulled out his wand. After muttering a quick cleaning spell on himself and Harry, he began to dress.

 

“Before the separation, before wizards had to go into hiding, it was common practise for same sex couples to get together. Then, the prejudices of the muggles began to infiltrate our way of life. The muggleborn witches and wizards stuck to their primitive beliefs; not all of them did, mind you, but enough that it caused problems. They refused to let go of their upbringing and assimilate into our culture. They believed homosexuality was wrong, that it went against nature, that it was a sin – muggle religion I believe. Those muggleborn witches and wizards married, reproduced, and raised their children to believe the same things.

 

“But it wasn’t just sex, Harry. It was race, religion, gender, age, wealth, all these things that should have no bearing on a wizard’s life, that the muggleborn have brought into our society. We are forbidden to practise our magic outside of school until we come of age because, Merlin forbid, a muggle might see it. We are so focused on money and prestige that we’ve lost our heritage. The only difference between my family and Weasley’s is that we have wealth and they don’t. It used to be that the worth of a wizard was measured on his magical ability, not his bank account. It’s just another instance of muggle influence perverting wizarding society.”

 

Harry listened to Draco talk with something akin to wonder; he could finally understand why some pureblood families felt the way they did about muggles. In fact, it sort of made sense to him as well. Hadn’t he almost been expelled for using magic over the summer before fifth year? Even though he was trying to save his – and his cousin’s – life at the time?

 

Draco, however, was on a roll, he had wanted an opportunity like this for years. To convert Harry Potter to his way of thinking would go a long way toward implementing changes in the future, especially now, in light of Harry’s newfound abilities. “Did you know that there was a brief period in the last century where witches were forbidden to work outside the home? The Minister of Magic at the time was the product of a muggleborn witch and a half-blood wizard. He got it into his head that the way to solve our population problem was to enforce a ban on homosexuality, and to see that each married couple produced no less than three children!”

 

Draco was, by now, pacing back and forth in front of the sofa. “Can you imagine it, Harry? Enforced breeding! Like we were cattle!”

 

But Draco wasn’t done yet. “My mother would never have survived a second pregnancy; she nearly died when I was born. Father told me that under the old laws, she would have been forced to conceive again within five years time. It would have killed her and the child, leaving Father widowed and myself without a mother. How would that help to improve the wizard world? Honestly, if you ask me, the best way to deal with muggleborn witches and wizards would be to abduct them at birth and have them raised in proper wizarding homes with wizard families.”

 

~End Flashback~

 

 

So now, Harry found himself at somewhat of a crossroad. He had always believed that all of Draco’s pureblood crap was just that – crap – but now he could see where the other boy was coming from. He sympathized with him. After all, wouldn’t Tom Riddle have turned out differently had he been raised by loving magical parents instead of being brought up in a muggle orphanage? Would he himself not have had a better childhood if he’d been raised by people like the Weasleys instead of the Dursleys? Even Hermione, as smart as she was, could have benefited so much had she been brought up around magic instead of science.

 

Malfoy made good points, Harry had to admit. Plus, he had the most lickable hipbones Harry had ever seen.

 

 

It was too late for Draco to seek refuge with Snape by the time they’d left the Chamber, so he headed back to his dorm, figuring that his room mates would all be fast asleep, anyway. He was happy to see that he was right, and as he stripped off his clothing and changed into his pyjamas he couldn’t help but reminisce over the night’s activities.

 

Ever since he’d first heard of it back in second year, he’d dreamed about seeing the Chamber of Secrets. He had been out of his mind with jealousy when he’d heard that Potter had been down there, and worse, Weasley as well. Although, now that he knew that Weasley had been stuck babysitting that crack-pot Lockhart the whole time, he felt a whole lot better about it. Plus there was the fact that Harry had shown him Salazar’s study.

 

He still could hardly believe it. He had been in the Chamber of Secrets, had read the personal journal of one of Hogwarts founders, had seen potions ingredients that had been banned or extinct for centuries, oh and he’d had sex with Harry Potter.

 

Amazing sex.

 

Draco climbed into bed and let the memories overtake him.

 

Harry’s lips were slightly chapped, but oh, so soft as they brushed against his own. Draco didn’t know what he had expected from the other boy, but it certainly wasn’t the self-confidence that Potter put into his every move. It was obvious that Harry was no blushing virgin, much to his surprise. He chalked it up to being one more misconception in a rather long line of misconceptions he had had about Harry Potter.

 

A misconception, yes, but not, as he had learned, a disappointment. There was something to be said for skilled hands after all.

 

As Harry’s lips left his own and trailed kisses across the column of his throat, Draco gave in to the raw power he could feel oozing from the other boy and let him have something few others could ever claim: the complete submission of a Malfoy.

 

It was as though Harry could read his every thought (or perhaps he had been) because as Draco relaxed, Harry bit down softly on the side of his neck and moaned.

 

Unlike his Quidditch strategies, where speed seemed to be the name of the game, Harry took his time exploring every inch of Draco’s body, undressing him slowly and with practised ease. It crossed Draco’s mind on several occasions to ask who Potter had been with, but then the other boy would do something with those skilled Seeker’s hands, or that clever tongue, that drove all thoughts from his mind.

 

By the time Potter finished exploring, Draco had already come once and was on the brink of a repeat performance. He had never had anyone worship his body like that before, and he’d had quite a few bed-mates, of both genders. Potter was something of a mystery to him, a seventeen-year-old boy should not have had the kind of control he seemed to display with ease. Not that he was complaining.

 

Draco Malfoy was a “top”. Sure he did bottom on occasion and found the experience to be satisfying, but in the over all scheme of things, he took – not gave. With Harry, he knew that it would be different, that he would have to submit, and he was okay with it, but he hadn’t expected to enjoy it as much as he had.

 

As well as playing his body like a finely tuned instrument, when Harry finally took him, he’d done so with a gentleness Draco had never experienced. His every touch drove the blond closer and closer to the edge and Draco did something he’d never done before.

 

He begged.

 

Draco Malfoy begged Harry Potter to fuck him. To make him come.

 

Harry, being the generous person he was, obliged.

 

If Draco concentrated, he could still feel Harry’s lips and tongue on his hipbones. The other boy had spent an abnormally long time nibbling and sucking on them, not that Draco had complained at the time. He wasn’t complaining now, even with the unsightly red blotches marring his otherwise perfect skin.

 

It was funny; now that Draco thought about it, he should have been embarrassed afterwards, humiliated even. But he wasn’t. Instead, he had lain there on the sofa with Harry pressed up against him and he’d begun began to talk.

 

He told Harry things about purebloods, and how Muggles had affected their views, their way of life, and Harry had listened. He’d listened while Draco dressed, and paced, and ranted on and on about politics, and race, and sexual equality. He didn’t interrupt, or leap in to defend the muggles and the mudbloods – although Draco had been careful not to use that word – and by the end, Draco felt as if he might have given Potter something to think about. Perhaps having something substantial between them could benefit them both more than they had initially realized.

 

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Original Posting Date: Sun, 11 Jul 2004 20:03:13 -0400 (EDT)

 

I twist the truth, I rule the world, my crown is called deceit. I am the emperor of lies, you grovel at my feet. I rob you and I slaughter you, your downfall is my gain. And all my promises are lies, all my love is hate – Motorhead

 

Part 9

 

Voldemort sat on his throne, Wormtail behind and slightly to the left of him, while the other Death Eaters slowly made their way forward on hands and knees to kiss the hem of his robe and swear fealty. After the last of them had crawled back to his place and the chamber was silent, he stood, and, looking down with malice, addressed his followers. “What news is there of young Malfoy?”

 

Two of the gathered masked men looked up to their Lord in fear before one nudged the other into speaking. “The – the attack on Potter went as scheduled, my Lord, but Malfoy was not present.” The Death Eater, one Gregory Goyle Senior, swallowed in fear as Voldemort’s eyes glowed red.

 

“And why is that, Goyle? Is your son so incompetent that he couldn’t follow one simple order and bring Malfoy into the plan?”

 

Goyle shook his head in fear. “No, my Lord. Malfoy disappeared after the game, the boys thought it was best to go on without him.”

 

Voldemort stepped down from his dais and approached the quivering man in front of him. “And did they forget,” he hissed, “that this was a test of young Draco’s loyalty? Did they not think it better to wait until Malfoy was present?” Voldemort didn’t wait for an answer, instead he raised his wand and pointed it at Goyle.

 

“CRUCIO!”

 

 

There were some things that Severus Snape hated about his life. Teaching children who had no appreciation for his gift was one of them, bowing down to Voldemort was another. He had been on his way to see the Headmaster when he’d been summoned, and so now, instead of talking to Dumbledore about what was going on with Draco and Harry, he was kneeling on a cold stone floor, watching as Goyle Senior thrashed under the Cruciatus curse.

 

The impromptu meeting had at least quelled some of his fears for Draco’s safety, but it raised a few for Potter’s. He would be happy when the boy finally got over himself and just ended this whole bloody thing. As his teacher, trainer, and fellow Order member, Snape knew that Harry was more than ready to face Voldemort, that when the inevitable happened, Potter would be victorious.

 

The boy just had to get over his own morals and realize that it wasn’t about him, that there were other people involved. If it made him a murderer to walk up to the Dark Lord and kill him outright, did his inability to do just that not also make him a murderer? Was he not responsible for every life that Voldemort and his followers took by simply *not* acting? Did the blood that coated Snape’s hands not also coat Potter’s?

 

Snape’s musings were cut short as Voldemort lifted the curse from Goyle and fixed his beady red eyes on him instead.

 

“Severus,” he hissed, “come forward.”

 

Snape crawled to his master’s feet and then waited, eyes downcast.

 

“It has come to my attention that you have punished my initiates for their actions on the Potter boy. Why is that?”

 

Snape managed to look contrite as he lifted his eyes from the floor. “They were sloppy. They left Potter still tied in the change room; they didn’t even conceal themselves. If I hadn’t happened by when I did and found the boy – not to mention Obliviate him – he could have gone to Dumbledore. Then the students would have been expelled, or put in Azkaban. They needed to be taught a lesson.”

 

Voldemort smiled – a particularly scary sight on a man with no lips – and Snape wondered if he were about to be cursed. “Indeed they did, Severus. You have done well.”

 

Snape bowed to Voldemort. “Thank you, my Lord.”

 

Voldemort turned and walked back to his throne. “You are all dismissed.”

 

The members of the throng all silently climbed to their feet and began to leave the room. Snape was just clearing the doorway when he heard Voldemort call to Crabbe, for him to remain behind. He shook his head and rolled his eyes as he heard Voldemort’s shout of “Crucio,” followed by the pain-filled screams of Crabbe senior.

 

 

Breakfast that morning was a subdued event at the Gryffindor table. Harry was lost in thought, Ron was silently fuming over Harry’s outright refusal to talk to him about whatever was bothering him, Seamus and Dean were having a whispered conversation between bites of food and glances at Harry, and Hermione was watching Harry with a suspicious look in her eye. The only one not currently staring, whispering, or silently fuming, was Neville. Instead, he was looking at Harry with something akin to sympathy in his eyes.

 

After finally falling asleep, Harry had dragged himself out of bed an hour and a half later and made his way into the bathroom. After showering and getting dressed, he left the dorm and headed down to breakfast. He didn’t wait for Ron and Hermione like he usually did; he was still thinking about his conversation with Malfoy, and how it had changed what he believed in. Not that he was going to run out and pledge allegiance to Voldemort or his cause, but it made him take a good long look at Dumbledore’s policies on muggleborns and he had to admit that they had their flaws.

 

It was people like Hermione that made Harry support Dumbledore’s policies on muggleborn witches and wizards; she was brilliant, powerful, and had taken to being a witch like a duck takes to water. If all muggleborns acclimated the way Hermione did, there wouldn’t be any problems. But they didn’t.

 

He only had to look over at Finch-Fletchley to see the truth behind his thoughts. Justin was a muggleborn and half-decent wizard, but he still held fast to his muggle upbringing, his prejudices and beliefs. He would never fully integrate himself into Wizard society, he didn’t want to. Harry had never believed Justin to be anything other than a decent bloke, but last summer had proved to him how easily he could be deceived.

 

It had been the day after Harry’s seventeenth birthday; normally he would have spent this time with the Weasleys, but this year, as he was now of age, he’d had other plans. He’d gotten tickets to see Puddlemere United play the Cannons and he was looking forward to seeing Oliver Wood again. In fact, it had been Oliver who’d sent the tickets, as well as a dinner invitation for after the game. Harry had been both nervous and excited. He’d known what this meant, since the last time he’d seen Oliver, the older boy had told him he was only waiting for Harry to grow up before he asked him out.

 

The game had been great; Puddlemere had trounced the Cannons – as expected, and when Oliver finally emerged from the change rooms he’d pulled Harry into a fierce hug and then kissed him soundly on the mouth. Harry had been surprised but not in the least bit offended and when they pulled apart, he’d seen Justin standing a little ways away, a look of pure disgust on his face.

 

Harry had spent a lot of time with Oliver over the remainder of the summer, he went to all his games, and on several occasions he’d seen Justin there as well. He even tried to talk to the other boy once, but within seconds it was obvious that Justin wanted nothing to do with him, even going so far as to tell Harry he was revolted by his actions and that his relationship with Oliver was abnormal and obscene.

 

Harry had told Oliver about that later, figuring that he would tell him not to worry about it and therefore make Harry feel better about the whole thing. He hadn’t expected Oliver to get worried about what Justin might say and to whom. It was the beginning of the end of Harry and Oliver’s relationship. By the end of the summer, Oliver had broken things off with apologies and excuses, but Harry knew the truth, his fame would always be an obstacle in any relationship he had.

 

He’d Obliviated Justin the first day back to school.

 

 

Hermione watched as Harry looked around the Hall. His gaze landed on Justin Finch-Fletchley and she was surprised at the look of malice that crossed her friend’s face. She had no idea that Harry had had any problems with the Hufflepuff boy. In fact, she didn’t think Harry had problems with anyone other than Malfoy, and by the looks of things, those had been put to rest.

 

Tearing her eyes away from her study of Harry, Hermione looked toward the Slytherin table and wasn’t surprised in the least to find that Malfoy was watching Harry. In fact, he seemed to be looking between Harry and Justin with something of a questioning look on his face. Hermione wondered, had Harry been seeing Justin? Or perhaps, had Malfoy? Was this the reason for the animosity, or was it something else entirely? It suddenly occurred to her that she really had no idea who Harry was nowadays. That he’d been keeping things from her and Ron since the summer after Sirius died. Harry was supposed to be one of her best friends and yet she didn’t feel as if she knew him at all anymore.

 

 

Ron Weasley might not be the smartest wizard to ever attend Hogwarts, hell, he might even have been one of the dumbest as far as academic standards went, but he knew people. And he knew Harry. At least, he used to.

 

After school had ended in fifth year, they had all boarded the train, Harry going back to those horrible muggles, and Ron had made Harry promise to write, and to come spend the last week of summer with him – as was tradition. Harry had agreed somewhat reluctantly, and Ron, knowing that his friend was going through hell at the time, had let it go.

 

The letters from Harry were few and far between that summer, and when he’d finally shown up at the Burrow in August, he was like a ghost of his former self. He spent most of his time sitting under the huge tree out back and staring up at the sky.

 

Mrs. Weasley had done her best to pull him out of his funk; she had cooked his favourites, talked to him often and finally after a very long day in which Harry hadn’t spoken one word to anyone, taken him aside and just wrapped her arms around him until he let it out and cried into her shoulder. Ron had watched from the stairs feeling both relieved that Harry was finally showing some emotion, and distressed that he hadn’t been the one to comfort him.

 

When they’d gone back to school, Harry had still been quiet, but eventually he started to talk with the others, and even laugh again. Ron had been so happy to have his best mate back that he had let slide all the little things that Harry did, or did not do, that were out of character.

 

Quidditch had resumed and Harry had taken to the sky with a fierce determination that Ron had chalked up to Malfoy having received a Firebolt, and Harry wanting to prove himself the superior seeker. In fact, he never even questioned Harry about his congratulating Malfoy on a good game after the Slytherins had beaten them in their first game of the season.

 

Now that Ron looked back on it, he could see so many things that had happened in sixth year, and more so in this year, that he couldn’t explain. Harry had become almost… superficial. Like he was playing the part of Harry Potter. Ron wondered if he even knew who his best friend was anymore.

 

Over the Christmas hols of sixth year, Harry had stayed at the Burrow with him and Hermione. Charlie and Bill had both come home, and even Percy had come back for a couple of days – things were still strained between the family and Percy but they were working on it. Harry had been more himself that week than he had been all year previously. He’d spent a lot of time with Charlie, talking about dragons and whatnot, and even though Ron was slightly put out about it, he was too happy to see Harry acting more like his old self to get too bent out of shape about it.

 

About a week after they’d been back at school, Harry’s behaviour took a turn for the worse again. One minute he had been fine, sitting and laughing with Seamus and Neville, and then the next, he was reading a letter an owl had dropped on his plate, and frowning. He’d left the Hall right after that, and hadn’t smiled or laughed, or even talked to anyone for weeks. The only time Harry smiled at all after that had been while he was flying.

 

Having never lost a family member, neither Ron nor Hermione knew what to do. Eventually they had sought out Dumbledore and told him of their concerns. He had explained that Harry just needed time to come to terms with Sirius’s loss, and that eventually, he would be their Harry again. Placated, Ron and Hermione had left Harry to his own devices and waited for the day their friend came back to them. They must have gotten used to the new, quiet, reserved Harry, for eventually they stopped noticing that he was withdrawn at times, and that even when he was laughing with them, and joining in with his dorm mates – whether it was in pranking the Slytherins or just sharing stories and jokes – that his smile never reached his eyes, and his laughter wasn’t as joyous as it had been in times past.

 

But now, as Ron thought about it, it was all crystal clear. It wasn’t just Sirius’s death that had hurt Harry, although that had been the starting point. Something, or someone, else had done something to break Harry’s heart last year.

 

He knew what had happened between Harry and Oliver over the summer, and he had even offered to beat the hell out of Wood for hurting Harry. But Harry wouldn’t hear of it, he said he was okay with it, that he didn’t blame Oliver, he had his career to think about after all and dating Harry Potter would only make him a target. Not only for Death Eaters, but for every anti-gay witch or wizard out there. Ron had conceded the point and the subject never came up again. Harry hadn’t dated since, and Ron, being somewhat uncomfortable with Harry’s homosexuality, hadn’t tried to breach the subject.

 

As he thought all this through, Ron’s temper gradually decreased. There was no reason for him to be angry with Harry. He was just as much to blame for the rift in their friendship, if not more so. And if he lost Harry to Malfoy, well, then it was his own fault. If Malfoy could make Harry happy again, then as his friend, Ron would step aside. It was the least he could do, after all.

 

 

Still lost in thought, and inadvertently staring at Justin, Harry reached inside his robe and touched his wand. He thought about the disgusted look on Justin’s face, and before he really gave it much thought, he was inside Justin’s mind. A few well placed thoughts and Harry watched in amusement as Justin stood and walked toward the end of the table.

 

 

Ernie Macmillan didn’t know what hit him. One minute he was talking with a group of other students and the next he was being snogged senseless by Justin Finch-Fletchley. He finally managed to push the other boy off of him and get to his feet, but it was too late. The entire Hall was watching them.

 

“What the hell is your damage, Justin?” Ernie screamed, “I’m not like that!”

 

Ernie looked at the slightly taller boy in disgust and then stormed out of the Hall. Harry watched with a sick sort of glee as Justin’s face flamed red in embarrassment before he too fled the Hall, turning the opposite direction of Ernie.

 

Over at the Slytherin table, several people were snickering about the scene they had just witnessed. Draco, who had been watching Harry since he’d sat down that morning, was the only one who knew what exactly had happened. He waited until Harry looked up and caught his eye before winking at him and nodding his approval. Life at Hogwarts was about to become very entertaining.

 

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Original Posting Date: Fri, 16 Jul 2004 19:44:40 -0400 (EDT)

 

I wish that I could fly. Into the sky. So very high – Lenny Kravitz

 

Part 10

 

The rest of the day passed rather quickly. Between classes, Harry and Draco would exchange amused looks in the hallways, as Justin’s actions at breakfast had the whole school whispering. Justin himself had been absent from lessons that day, most likely hiding out in his dorm.

 

After double Potions – which was the last class that day, Gryffindor had the pitch booked for Quidditch practise. Harry really didn’t want to go, but short of telling Ron why, he didn’t have any excuse.

 

He stood by the locker room door, his Firebolt propped against the outside wall. He had had to carry the thing down, but he didn’t want to touch it any more than necessary. If it hadn’t been a gift from Sirius, he’d have destroyed it already. It was a shame really, but the very idea of getting on his broom made him sick, he didn’t know how he was going to manage practise today.

 

“Psst, Potter!” came a harsh whisper from the side of the building. Curious, Harry took two steps to the side – his hand automatically slipping inside his robes to find his wand – so he could see who it was.

 

“Draco? What are you doing here, if Ron catches you trying to spy on our practise he’ll go to Hooch and you’ll get detention, you know.”

 

Draco rolled his eyes. “I’m not here to spy, you dolt. Here.” Draco held out his broom. “I thought, well, since you paid for it and all, the least I can do is let you borrow it.”

 

Harry blinked in surprise. “Really?”

 

“Well, don’t think I’m going to let you have my broom when our teams play against each other, but for now, until you get comfortable…” Draco trailed off; this being nice thing wasn’t easy, even if Harry was his… something substantial.

 

Thanks, Dray,” Harry reached out and took the broom, then grudgingly retrieved his own and passed it to Draco. “Would you take this back to the castle?”

 

Draco accepted the other broom and then blurted out, “Will I see you tonight?”

 

Harry smiled. “Sure. Meet me after supper? In Myrtle’s bathroom?”

 

Draco nodded, turned and walked away. Harry watched him go for a few minutes before turning around and heading for the pitch. He didn’t notice a certain red-head standing back in the shadows.

 

 

At the sound of the knock, Albus Dumbledore flicked his wand to open the door. “Ah, yes. Do come in Severus, I have been expecting you.”

 

Professor Snape rolled his eyes and came inside. It almost seemed as though the headmaster’s efforts might have been better spent had he taken the job as Divination professor instead of Headmaster. The man always knew what was going to happen before it happened. “In that case, is there any point in my even being here, as I’m sure you know exactly why it is I’ve come?”

 

The old man’s eyes twinkled merrily and he smiled before answering. “And deprive myself of your wonderful company? I think not, Severus. Please, have a seat and tell me why you are here.”

 

Snape resigned himself to an evening of playing the fool and took a seat.

 

“Tea, Severus?” the older wizard asked as he conjured a service for two.

 

“Thank you, Albus. Tea would be lovely,” Snape responded somewhat sarcastically. “I’ve come to speak with you about Draco Malfoy.”

 

At this, the Headmaster looked up with more than slight interest. He had been aware for some time of Snape’s growing concern for the young man. “Go on, Severus, what is it?”

 

Snape poured the tea and, after sipping from his own cup, pursed his lips before speaking. “Certain… events… of late have, shall we say, *shifted*, the balance in this school. If I am not mistaken, and I *highly* doubt that I am, it would seem that Mr. Malfoy has…” Snape set his cup down and rubbed at his temples. “Merlin, I can barely even speak of it.” Snape shook his head before continuing. “I believe that Misters Malfoy and Potter have put aside their differences and have become… *friends*.”

 

That last word was said with such distaste that for a moment Albus was certain that the Potions master was about to spit on the floor.

 

Dumbledore clapped his hands. “Excellent news, Severus. Might I ask what the cataclysmic event was that has brought these two young men together?”

 

“No.”

 

Dumbledore was momentarily stunned. It wasn’t often that someone denied to answer him. Especially Severus Snape. “I see. Well, can you at least tell me how you came by this information?”

 

“Not really. Suffice it to say, I was at the right place at the right time. Or rather Draco was, and it led Potter to trust him, which in turn, I believe, led Draco to see Potter as more than the spoiled boy he had always been led to believe him as.”

 

“Very well. You do know that this will pose a problem; neither of these young men’s friends are going to be happy about it.”

 

“So I gather,” Snape replied. “I imagine we’ll have to scrape Weasley off the ceiling when he finds out.”

 

 

Practise went better than expected and when Harry finally touched back down, he felt invigorated. There was something about flying, the feel of the wind in his hair, the solid length of the broom between his thighs, the speed of his movements, the control; it made him feel more alive than anything else had ever done. Not even sex felt this good. Though it was a close second.

 

“Harry, mate, you were bloody brilliant today,” Seamus exclaimed as he clapped Harry on the back. Harry had been expecting it this time, so no one got hurt.

 

“Thanks, Seam. I didn’t realize I was playing any different.”

 

“Oh, but you were,” the other boy enthused. “You went after the Snitch with a vengeance, Harry. I haven’t seen you play that hard since the first game against Slytherin back in sixth year.”

 

Harry chuckled. “And as I remember, I lost that game to Draco.”

 

“*Draco*, is it? Why, Harry, are you fancying the Ice Prince of Slytherin?” Seamus chuckled and Harry shook his head.

 

“Even if I was, Seam, I wouldn’t tell you.”

 

“Oh, Harry,” Seamus held his hand over his heart, “You wound me with your words.”

 

 

After dinner, Harry made his excuses to his friends – who for reasons unknown to him didn’t push for further explanations – and made his way to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. Draco was already inside waiting for him.

 

“I need you to get me into the Slytherin dorms tomorrow night,” Harry spoke without preamble.

 

“Okay,” Draco answered.

 

“That’s it?” Harry blinked in surprise. “Just ’okay’, no questions or anything?”

 

Draco rolled his eyes. “Honestly, Potter. I think I have a pretty good idea of why you want in. Besides, if you remember, I told you last night that whatever you planned to do to them, I was in.”

 

“True,” Harry agreed. “Thanks,” he whispered before closing the distance between them and kissing Draco.

 

It was odd, he thought, how the two of them had come to be in this time and place, together like this. Sure, Draco had changed from the spoilt little rich kid Harry had met all those years ago at Madame Malkin’s, but he was still far from what you would call fluffy or considerate. He still called Ron names, still pulled pranks on the Gryffindors during potions and he still hated muggles and muggleborns. But none of that seemed to matter as much to Harry as it once had. Draco was not a Death Eater, had no desire to become one, and thought Voldemort was an insane half-blood. Plus, his views made a certain kind of sense.

 

Pulling away from the kiss, Harry hissed at the sink and waited until the opening to the chamber was revealed before winking at Draco and disappearing into it. Draco chuckled, shook his head, then jumped in after him.

 

 

Albus Dumbledore was definitely feeling his age this night. After his lengthy chat with Severus Snape, he had done a little reconnaissance on his own to find out what it was that he was being kept in the dark about. When they said that the castle had eyes and ears of its own, they weren’t lying.

 

As Headmaster, the portraits, statues, and other enchanted objects which lined the schools hallways and classrooms – not to mention the ghosts – were indebted to answer any and every question he asked of them with complete honesty. It was because of this that he was now able to piece together what he was assuming had happened.

 

Assuming, because the information he gathered seemed to be only of an after effect. The actual attack – he assumed there had been an attack – had happened before Harry was carried back to the castle by none other than Draco Malfoy. Where this attack had occurred he could only speculate, but seeing as there had been a Quidditch match that day, between Gryffindor and Slytherin, he was willing to bet his beard that it had happened in the Slytherin locker room.

 

He had made a point of immediately having the mirrors in the change rooms enchanted to alert the staff in case anything of this nature should happen again. Too late, perhaps, but better late than never.

 

From what he had been able to piece together, Harry had been unconscious when young Malfoy had carried him into the castle. The Bloody Baron himself had told the Headmaster that Draco had taken the Potter boy into his dorm and placed him in his own bed before leaving once again.

 

The portrait of Sir Codgewell, which was located just outside the owlery, informed him that Draco had gone there, penned a letter and then left in somewhat of a hurry. He himself had been at the Head table when Severus had received a missive from one of the school’s owls and excused himself rather abruptly. He now knew that it had been a message from Draco that Severus had received.

 

The Enchanted Maiden, a portrait of a young girl in a field of flowers, which hung a few feet down the hall across from the Slytherin entrance, had told him of Severus and Draco’s initial meeting outside in the hallway. He did have to chuckle at how disappointed she made the Potion Master out to be when informed that he had no reason to punish Mister Potter.

 

The only thing that Albus was unsure of, was *what* exactly had befallen Harry. For some reason, the Slytherins were rather adamant about not having portraits in their dorm rooms or even the common room of their house. The only portrait anywhere in Slytherin was one of Salazar himself, and he had stopped talking to anyone or anything centuries ago.

 

The Pink Lady had told him of a most troublesome event that had taken place in front of her portrait just last night. That Harry had hexed two of his year mates, and then fled in a panic. She told him that it was very early the next morning before Harry had come back to his dorm, and that he’d had a bit of a row with his friends upon his return.

 

The real question was, what was he to do with this information? It was obvious that Harry had no plans of reporting the attack, otherwise he would have been here before now. And it didn’t seem as though he had retaliated on his own behalf as the persons responsible had not turned up in the infirmary. Never one to leave things well enough alone, Albus decided he would send Harry a message to meet with him after breakfast tomorrow.

 

Turning around in his chair, the old wizard casually reached out and stroked his phoenix. “Ah, Fawkes. I feel I am getting too old for this life.”

 

 

Harry didn’t know what it was that set Draco off, but he certainly wasn’t going to complain. They had just gotten through the doorway of Salazar’s study when Draco had pushed him down on the sofa and climbed into his lap, kissing him almost desperately. As the blonde’s lips moved down to suckle at his throat, Harry let out a groan and, grasping Draco’s hips, gasped out, “Not that I’m complaining, but what brought all this on?”

 

“Bloody Parseltongue,” was muttered against his neck and Harry started to laugh until a rather vicious bite just below his ear made him groan and thrust his hips up into the boy straddling him.

 

“Didn’t,” Harry choked out as his ear was nibbled on, “didn’t have this effect yesterday.”

 

Draco pulled away from Harry’s earlobe and scowled at him. “Yesterday, I didn’t think I’d be allowed. Now, do you want to discuss this, or do you want me to go back to what I was doing?”

 

Harry grinned and pulled Draco’s face back down to his own. “By all means,” he whispered across the other boy’s lips, “continue with what you were doing.”

 

 

In a dusty, forgotten classroom, high up in an unused tower, sat Neville Longbottom and his girlfriend, Pansy Parkinson. The two had been dating in secret since the summer after fifth year when her parents had broken off the marriage contract with the Malfoys.

 

Pansy wasn’t like most of her housemates, she had no desire to become a Death Eater, or to marry a dark wizard, or to produce the next generation of Voldemort’s sycophants. All she wanted was to finish school, marry Neville, and get as far away from her parents, their friends, and their *Lord*, as possible. The problem was, that until Voldemort was destroyed for good, she was trapped in an arranged marriage, would be forced to take the Mark immediately following graduation, and had no hope of escaping her parents’ way of life.

 

“Hey,” Neville whispered as he wrapped his arms around his lover, “It’ll be okay, you know.”

 

Pansy sighed and snuggled into her boyfriend’s embrace. “I wish I could believe that.”

 

“If you’d let me talk to Harry…” Neville began, only to be cut off by a delicate snort from young woman in his arms.

 

“There is nothing Potter can do for me. Or rather, nothing he *would* do. We’ve been over this, Nev, he’s never going to believe that I don’t *want* the future that’s laid out for me. I’m a Slytherin. To Harry Potter, Slytherin automatically equals evil.”

 

“Pans,” Neville sighed, “things are different now, something has changed.”

 

That seemed to perk Pansy’s interest and she tilted her head up to see the serious expression on Neville’s face. “What is it, love? What’s changed, and how does it make things different?”

 

“Harry and Malfoy, er, Draco,” Neville, chuckled at the look of surprise on Pansy’s face, “well, they’re friends now, maybe more than friends. If Harry can see Malfoy for something other than an evil git, why wouldn’t he believe that you’ve changed, that you’re not who he thought?”

 

Neville kissed his lover softly and stroked her silky hair. “Let me talk to him, love. I know he’ll believe me, and he’ll help you. Besides, if Malfoy’s with Harry, then doesn’t that mean that *he’s* not on Voldemort’s side either? You’d have an ally within your own house.”

 

“Draco and Potter?” Pansy whispered with a slight smile on her face. “Who’d have thought those two would end up together.”

 

“Certainly not me, but I think the Weasley twins had a bet going on it the last year they were here. If it still stands, they’re set to make a fortune,” Neville chuckled. “So, can I talk to Harry?”

 

“Alright,” Pansy sighed, “but make sure you’re alone when you do it, and if he refuses, you better make sure he doesn’t tell anyone.” Pansy looked up with imploring eyes. “If anyone finds out about us, about me, I’ll be pulled out of school and forced to marry that horrible LeStrange boy.”

 

“No one will find out, love,” Neville whispered, “I promise you that.”

 

“Good,” Pansy replied, “now kiss me.”

 

Neville smiled and did as he was asked.

 

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Original Posting Date: Sun, 25 Jul 2004 16:34:01 -0400 (EDT)

 

Welcome to my nightmare. Welcome to my breakdown. I hope I didn’t scare you. – Alice Cooper

 

Part 11

 

Harry was still naked, sprawled out on the sofa, with Draco straddling his thighs. The blonde had just finished casting a cleaning spell on them and was now looking at him with mild curiosity.

 

“I’m sorry to ask this, Harry, but… Will you tell me now what they did to you?”

 

Harry jumped slightly and then sighed. “Why do you need to know, Draco? You know the worst of it. Why do you need to hear all the sordid details?”

 

“I don’t,” Draco explained, “but I think you need to tell them. I want to help you, Harry, and to do that, you need to tell me everything.”

 

Harry thought about it for a minute; he couldn’t tell Draco everything, he couldn’t bring himself to talk about it. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the other boy, he did for some strange reason, but he knew that if he tried to explain it, he’d get caught up in the feelings, and he refused to let himself be weak again. He had locked those feelings away in a little place inside his mind. They would never be gone, but for now, and until he took them out, *if* he took them out, they would remain there, not affecting his life at the moment. Just as he’d done with the memories of Cedric, and of Sirius. Perhaps it wasn’t healthy, but if he didn’t do this, he’d never be able to train properly, to learn how to live up to his potential. He’d be locked in a ward at St. Mungo’s. Babbling and crying.

 

He’d shed enough tears in the past two days, it wasn’t going to happen again; he was done with crying. It was time move on, to get even, to get revenge. But the look on Draco’s face, the sincerity, it made him want to share this experience with him.

 

“I can’t tell you, Draco,” Harry reached for his wand, “but I can show you.”

 

Draco went rigid as the memories began to assault him. He had never experienced anything like this before, it was like seeing through Harry’s eyes, hearing with Harry’s ears, and when Harry spoke, it was as though it were him speaking, only with Harry’s voice. And had the Weasel always been that tall?

 

“Harry! Hurry up, mate. Seamus and Dean managed to sneak a whole case of Butterbeer into the dorm after our last Hogsmeade weekend. They’ve been saving it for the after-party of this match!”

 

“Go on ahead then, I’ll only be a bit longer. I just have to get dressed and put my gear away.”

 

“Go on! I can walk myself back. I stood up to Voldemort for Godric’s sake!”

 

“If your sure… I’ll make sure to save you a Butterbeer. Don’t be too long, eh?”

 

“I won’t.”

 

It was a curious sensation to say the least. Seeing through blurry eyes, feeling the unfamiliar, yet all too familiar feeling of glasses being placed on his nose, hooked over his ears. Walking from the locker room, Draco mused on the difference of being in Harry’s body – Harry’s legs were shorter, his strides not as long.

 

“Petrificus Totalus.”

 

Draco recognised the voice as being Blaise Zabini. He dreaded what he knew was coming next. Perhaps asking Harry to share this with him wasn’t the smartest thing he’d ever done. Damn his infernal curiosity!

 

He felt himself being dragged inside, felt his mouth being pried open and the taste of cotton and broom polish as a filthy rag was stuffed into his mouth.

 

“Perstringo strictum,” Zabini whispered. “Can’t have you casting wandless magic at us in your panicked state, now can we?”

 

‘Oh no,’ Draco thought to himself, ‘couldn’t have that, could we?’

 

“Get his wand,” Zabini ordered. “Give it here, then get his clothes off.”

 

Rough hands pulling at him, tearing at his clothes. ‘Shit, I don’t want to feel this! Harry please, I’m sorry I asked!’ Draco was beginning to panic and then a feeling of calm washed over him, the hands on his body – on Harry’s body – felt lighter, as if they weren’t there really, just a ghost of a touch and then they disappeared altogether.

 

“Scream, Potter,” Zabini whispered in his ear. “It makes no difference, no one will hear you.”

 

He heard footsteps approaching and then Nott’s voice.

 

“I’ve got the ropes, and his broom. Where do you want to do this?”

 

“Back corner,” Zabini answered. “We’ll tie him to the benches.”

 

Although he couldn’t feel it, Draco knew that Harry was being dragged through the room, that his skin was being torn on the rough, cement floor. He couldn’t feel Harry’s pain, but he could sense his terror. And his anger. And his need to make them pay. It was a powerful feeling, the hatred he felt.

 

“Hold him down.”

 

He was beaten; severely. He knew this as he felt the impact of each blow but not the pain behind it. He was angered, and he could feel the hatred that Harry felt, like a damn bursting from somewhere deep within. It was a revelation, that he could feel such hatred for anyone. That *Harry* could feel such utter hatred.

 

Through it all though, was the voice of Blaise Zabini. Taunting, insulting, infuriating. The things he said to Harry were beyond cruel. Beyond humiliating. Draco hated him now more than ever.

 

And then, the beatings just… stopped.

 

He knew what was coming.

 

“Lubricus.”

 

Draco shook. He felt Harry’s terror as if it were his own, the helplessness, the humiliation, the fear of what was to come. Then, it faded; he knew what was happening, what was being done to Harry, but it was as if he were somehow detached from it now. He felt cut off from Harry’s mind, his emotions. Like an outside observer.

 

He heard the dirty things they said, the way they described him. The play by play description of how good he looked on his knees, the vision the others painted of his Firebolt pumping in and out of his rectum. The last thing he heard was Blaise asking him if he enjoyed it.

 

The vision faded and Draco was back in Salazar’s room, sitting in Harry’s lap. Harry’s arms came up and wrapped around him, pulling him close. He snuggled into the embrace, too shook up to care that he was a Malfoy, and Malfoys did *not* cuddle.

 

“Mother always told me that my curious nature would get me in trouble one day,” Draco mumbled into Harry’s neck as the other boy rubbed his back soothingly. “I guess this will teach me a lesson.”

 

“I’m sorry, Draco,” Harry whispered. “But it was the only was I could tell you. If you’d rather, I can take it all back, make you forget.”

 

“No!” Draco sat up and looked Harry in the eye. “I wanted to know what they did to you, and now I do. I’m not sorry I asked, only that I wasn’t more prepared for the answer. Harry,” the blond asked in all seriousness, “how was it that as soon as things turned nasty, as soon as I began to panic, I couldn’t feel anything? Did you do that on purpose?”

 

“Yes. I didn’t want you to feel the pain, just to understand what they did, and how it made me feel.”

 

Draco cocked his head to the side in thought and then climbed off of Harry and began to pace. He seemed completely oblivious to the fact that he was still naked, and that Harry was watching his every move.

 

“Potter,” Draco stopped and looked down at Harry. “If you can do that, block out what you didn’t want me to experience, could you do the opposite? Say, increase the pain, the fear, the helplessness? Could you make someone feel everything you felt, only to a greater extreme?”

 

Harry blinked, and then as he understood, a slow, malicious smile spread across his face. “I think you might be onto something there, Malfoy.”

 

Draco watched as the most sinister expression he had even seen crossed the face of the most innocent boy he had ever known, Or thought he had known, anyway. There were so many layers to this enigma of a young man, and every time he discovered a new one, Draco felt his attraction for Harry increase. To know Harry Potter, to *really* know him, was something he wanted more than almost anything at the moment. Of course, there were *other* things he wanted at the moment as well.

 

Crawling back into Harry’s lap, Draco claimed his lips in a passionate kiss before drawing away. “The way you looked just now,” Draco spoke in a husky tone, “was so bloody hot, Harry. Merlin, I want you.”

 

Harry didn’t answer, just entangled his hands in Draco’s hair and pulled him into another kiss.

 

 

The Gryffindor common room was empty but for two students who conversed quietly at the farthest table from the door. The subject of conversation was Harry Potter, and the participants were, of course, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley.

 

“I’m telling you, Ron, something happened to Harry. He’s been acting strange, well, stranger than usual these past few days,” Hermione sighed, “and did you see him this morning at breakfast? He had something to do with what happened to Justin, I just know it.”

 

“Like what? It’s not as if he was dating the git,” Ron scoffed.

 

“Are you sure? Because he was looking at him like he wanted to throttle him.”

 

Ron chuckled. “Probably did. Y’knew that Oliver and Harry broke up because of him, didn’t you?”

 

Hermione gasped. “Harry and Oliver? And, Oliver left Harry for, for Justin?”

 

The look on Ron’s face was priceless. It was somewhere between amusement, horror, and shock. “Merlin, no! Why would anyone dump Harry for a git like that?” Ron shook his head. “Justin saw them together and really lit into Harry about how wrong it was to be gay, and how disturbed he must be, that kind of shite. Well, Harry being Harry, told Ollie about it and next thing he knew, old Oliver was giving him the “let’s be friends” speech. Said he couldn’t risk his career for a relationship.”

 

“Oh, poor Harry,” Hermione said sadly. “How did he take it?”

 

“How do you think he took it? He acted like it was fine, like he understood Oliver's reasons, but inside? Inside he was dying, ’Mione. I hadn’t seen him that depressed since just after the Christmas hols back in sixth year,” Ron said with a dawning look of understanding on his face. “Since he spent all that time with Charlie.”

 

Ron stood and began pacing. “I never really thought much about it at the time, I was just happy to see Harry coming out of his shell again, but now that I think about it, him and Charlie were practically inseparable the entire break.”

 

Hermione looked up at Ron, “You think Charlie and Harry were dating?”

 

“Dating?” Ron scoffed. “Hardly. Charlie doesn’t date, ’Mione, he conquers. The bloody prat took advantage of Harry; I swear to Merlin when I see him again, I’ll pound the daylights out of him! No bloody wonder Harry hasn’t wanted to come back to the Burrow for a visit.”

 

“Do you,” Hermione started and then ducked her head. “Do you think Charlie was his first? Maybe that’s why he sunk into such a depression when he broke it off?”

 

“I’m betting on it, ’Mione, Harry would have told me if he’d done it before that. My own *brother*,” Ron groaned. “No wonder he never told me.”

 

As Ron slumped back into his seat, Hermione took his hand and squeezed it lightly. “It isn’t your fault that your brother is a cad, Ron. I doubt that Harry blames you for Charlie breaking his heart.”

 

“I know, but I feel like I let him down.”

 

“You?” Hermione practically screeched. “I didn’t even know he had dated Oliver, let alone your brother, or that Justin had said those horrible things to him. I don’t feel like I’ve been a very good friend to him at all the past year or so.”

 

“Me either,” Ron replied. “So, what do we do to make things up to him?”

 

“Well,” Hermione said somewhat hesitantly, “I suppose we could start by accepting his relationship with Malfoy.”

 

Ron groaned and thumped his head on the desk. “How did I know you were going to say that?”

 

 

Draco walked into the Slytherin common room looking well and thoroughly shagged. This of course raised a few eyebrows but no one dared comment on it.

 

“What?” Draco snapped as he took in the room’s occupants. “It’s not like you’ve never seen me come in after a date before.”

 

“No,” Pansy replied, “but it’s not like you to date outside of your own house, which I know you did, as all of the senior Slytherins are here and it’s above your station to go trolling in the junior ranks.”

 

Draco snorted and rolled his eyes. “Well, seeing as I’ve already *had* every Slytherin worthy of my attention, and found them… lacking,” at this he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing as several people in the room spluttered and turned red in their outrage – including Pansy. “Is it any wonder I’ve moved on to more challenging prospects?” he finished.

 

“Now, if there is nothing else, I’ll be going to bed.”

 

Draco waited for a moment, but when no one spoke, he turned on his heel and made his way up to his room. He wasn’t entirely comfortable with being here, but staying away would have brought up too many questions and he didn’t want to raise suspicion as to his whereabouts, or who he was spending his time with.

 

After changing into his pyjamas, Draco placed every locking charm he could remember on his closed bed-curtains, and then set a few detection spells as well. Once he felt he was as safe as he could be given the circumstances, he drifted into a sleep filled with dreams of Harry Potter saying wicked things to him in Parseltongue, just as he’d done earlier that night.

 

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Original Posting Date: Sun, 8 Aug 2004 01:13:07 -0400 (EDT)

 

You’re the best friend that I ever had, I’ve been with you such a long time, you’re my sunshine and I want you to know that my feelings are true, I really love you. Oh you’re my best friend. – Queen

 

Part 12

 

Morning came far too early as far as Harry was concerned. By the time he’d made it back to his dorm and fallen into bed, he was practically asleep on his feet. His newfound friendship with Draco, exceptional shagging not withstanding, was taking time he could scarcely afford out of his schedule.

 

He had managed to drag himself off to shower and felt marginally better by the time he’d dressed and made his way down to the Great Hall. Ron and Hermione were already sitting at the table, ’Mione with a book open in front of her, and Ron trying to cram as much food into himself as possible before classes started for the day.

 

“Morning,” Harry mumbled as he pulled a plate of toast closer to himself, took the top piece, and began to butter it.

 

“Morning to you, mate. What time did you come in?” Ron asked around a mouthful of eggs.

 

Harry blinked and after a minute shrugged his shoulders. “Dunno, late.”

 

Hermione watched the interaction between them silently, noticing that Harry looked rather tired, but also happier than he had been in some time. She surreptitiously glanced over to the Slytherin table and smirked in satisfaction when she found Malfoy had a similar look of fatigue.

 

“Look, Harry, I don’t know what’s going on with you exactly, but I’m your friend, you know? If you need to talk, or just, you know, hang out in silence, I’m here,” Ron spoke softly.

 

Harry looked up at his oldest friend and smiled. “Thanks Ron. I know I’ve been a prat for a while now, but I’m not ready to talk about it just yet. That alright?”

 

Ron looked slightly disappointed but nodded his acceptance. “S’alright, Harry. But when you’re ready, I’ll listen, even if it’s about you shagging Malfoy.”

 

Harry choked on his toast and Ron ducked his head as Hermione scowled at him.

 

“Ronald Weasley!” she huffed, her hands on her hips. “That was sneaky and uncalled for.”

 

“Yeah,” Ron smiled somewhat sheepishly, “but did you see the look on his face?”

 

Harry managed to swallow and cleared his throat as he looked from one friend to the other. “I… You… Malfoy?” he asked.

 

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “We know about the two of you, at least, we’re pretty sure that you’re seeing him. You are, aren’t you?” she asked with trepidation. “Seeing Malfoy, that is?”

 

“I… well… yes.” Harry hung his head and waited for Ron to start yelling at him.

 

When the silence stretched on, he eventually lifted his head to see if the world had stopped, or if Ron had fallen into shock. What he saw instead was a determination on his best friend’s face that reminded him of *why* Ron was his best mate.

 

“You’re not yelling,” Harry pointed out helpfully.

 

“And I’m not gonna either,” Ron replied.

 

“Why?” Harry asked.

 

“Dunno really. By all rights, I should be screaming the roof down, but, well, you’ve been soddin’ *miserable* since Charlie dumped you – and yes, I figured that out – and then after what happened with Wood over the summer…” Ron trailed off, shook his head, and then continued. “If Malfoy makes you happy, I’ll learn to live with it. Besides, since his old man went to Azkaban, he hasn’t been nearly as much of a git as he used to be.”

 

Hermione smiled and kissed Ron on the cheek. “We love you, Harry,” she said softly, “no matter who you date.”

 

Harry gave his friends a watery smile and nodded his head before getting to his feet and silently leaving the Hall. Ron and Hermione watched him go in sad acceptance. Almost seven years and Harry still kept his emotions to himself. Hermione figured that that would probably never change, that being raised the way he was, he probably didn’t know how to open up to anyone.

 

 

Draco watched with more than a little interest as Harry made his way into the Hall. He looked even worse this morning than Draco himself did, which was saying something as the Slytherin had dark circles around his eyes and he couldn’t stop yawning. He caught the mudblood looking his way and almost sneered at her before checking himself. It wouldn’t do to let her know he was watching them.

 

He wondered what was going on as Harry’s head shot up and he began to choke. It looked as though Granger was reaming the Weasel for something, and then Harry’s head dropped forward again almost as though he were ashamed. Draco had to stop himself from getting to his feet and going to Harry.

 

These new-found feeling he had to protect Harry, to keep him safe from even his friends, still confused him. It wasn’t like he didn’t care about people, he loved his parents after all, and he had some amount of feeling for his friends, or at least he had until the Firebolt incident.

 

But Harry was different. He was this incredibly powerful wizard, he could do things that even Dumbledore and Voldemort could only fantasize about, and yet, he had such a low opinion of himself, of his worthiness. It called to something deep inside of him. He wanted to take care of Harry, to be the one to make him see how truly special he was. Not because he survived Avada Kedavra, not because he was the heir of both Slytherin and Gryffindor, not even because he was related to Merlin himself. Just because he was Harry Potter, a boy who had somehow managed to get under his skin despite years of hatred and petty jealousy. A boy that he could see himself coming to care deeply for. Possibly even fall in love with, if such a thing were possible for him.

 

Caught up in his thoughts, he almost missed Potter’s exit from the room. Once again, he stopped himself just in time before getting up and following Harry. He wasn’t sure what the other Gryffindors had said, but Harry looked conflicted as he’d left. Draco decided to give him a five minute head start and then see if he could find him.

 

 

Harry wasn’t paying attention as he rounded the corner after leaving the Hall. For this reason alone, he was caught off guard when he ploughed into Greg Goyle’s beefy frame and bounced back, stumbling, almost loosing his footing.

 

“Well, well, Potter,” the sound of Nott’s voice drifted out from behind the frame of the larger boy. “Fancy meeting you here, and all alone as well,” he smirked as he stepped out in front of Goyle and leered at Harry.

 

Harry backed up and had his wand in hand and pointed at the other boy before he could blink. “Rigere retrorsum,” Harry yelled and then quickly aiming at Goyle fired off another curse, “Adfectio sexus!”

 

As Nott’s body contorted itself into an upside down position, Goyle underwent some fascinating, yet disturbing changes.

 

“Harry?” a soft voice spoke, “what did you do?”

 

Harry turned around to see Neville Longbottom leaning against the wall, his books in one hand, and his wand in the other.

 

“Well,” Harry motioned towards the two Slytherins, “as you can see, I made Nott here stand on his hands. He won’t be able to hold his wand and maintain his balance. It’s kind of a stupid hex, I know, but it’s effective. George Weasley pulled it on me last year. As for Goyle,” Harry smirked and nodded toward the large… boy? “You can see that he’s had a drastic lifestyle change.”

 

Indeed he had. Gregory Goyle had just undergone a sex-change.

 

Neville grinned at Harry. “That’s brilliant, mate! You have to teach me that one.”

 

“Yeah, I just learned it. Though, I’m not sure if there’s a counter curse or even a potion that will undo it.” Harry shrugged his shoulders and exchanged an amused look with the other boy as Goyle shrieked – hands clutching his chest – and ran off down the corridor toward the hospital wing.

 

“This isn’t over, Potter!” Nott’s voice drifted up from the vicinity of Harry’s knees.

 

Harry looked down, a malicious grin spread across his face as he crouched in front of the upside-down Slytherin. Lowering his voice so that only he and Nott could hear him, Harry spoke: “No, it isn’t. This is nothing compared to what I *will* do to you. You will regret ever daring to lay hands on me, you will suffer in ways you can’t even *imagine*. When I kill your Master, and make no mistake, I will kill him, his death will seem merciful compared to what I’m going to do to you.”

 

Having said his piece, Harry got to his feet and watched as the other boy hobbled away as fast as his hands could carry him.

 

 

Draco waited for five minutes and then got up and, without a word to anyone, left the Hall. He figured Harry would most likely retreat to the Chamber of Secrets, as that was where he spent most of his time lately. He was therefore surprised to find him just outside the doors talking with Neville Longbottom.

 

Having not been spotted yet, by either boy, Draco waited to see what was going on. He was surprised by what he heard.

 

 

“Harry, can we talk?” Neville asked. “It’s really kinda important.”

 

Harry looked at Neville closely and was shocked to see that the boy he knew had grown into a young man right under his nose. No longer was he the chubby, shy, insecure lad who needed constant reminding not to forget his books, his assignments, and even his wand from time to time. No, this young man before him was tall and lean, had overcome his fear of people, and, with the help of his friends, learned to be self-confident and stand up for himself and others. Harry couldn’t help but smile; he always knew that Neville had it in him, and he was glad to see it come to the surface.

 

“Sure, Nev, what do you want to talk about?”

 

Neville took a quick look down the corridor before speaking. “I know that something is going on with you and Draco Malfoy, and I don’t care that he’s a guy, or that he’s Slytherin,” he quickly interjected when Harry opened his mouth to say something. “I mean, I’m a pureblood, homosexuality doesn’t bother me, and I’ve made some discoveries of my own as far as Slytherins go. I know they’re not *all* junior Death Eaters. Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

 

“Go on,” Harry encouraged.

 

“Well, see, I’ve been seeing this girl since fifth year, and she’s a Slytherin.”

 

Harry’s eyes widened. “Who is she?”

 

Neville smiled. “Pansy Parkinson,” he answered. “She doesn’t want to join Voldemort, Harry. She doesn’t want to marry that guy from Durmstrang either.” Neville shook his head sadly. “But once we graduate, she won’t have a choice. I was, well… I was kinda hoping you might help her. Help *us*.”

 

Harry blinked in shock. ‘Neville and Parkinson?’ he thought to himself, ‘I never would have guessed.’ Out loud he said, “What can I do to help?”

 

Neville grinned and clapped Harry on the shoulder, “You mean that? You’ll help us?”

 

“Of course I will, what do you need?”

 

“Voldemort’s death would be ideal,” Neville chuckled as Harry rolled his eyes, “but barring that, I guess a safe place for Pansy to hide after graduation. I love her, Harry; I can’t lose her to the Dark.”

 

“You won’t, Nev, I promise,” Harry spoke with conviction. “We’ve lost enough people to that madman. I’ll talk to Draco, see if he has any ideas. It’ll work out.”

 

“Thanks, Harry, I owe you big for this.”

 

“No, you don’t. Just, keep my relationship with Draco a secret for now, alright?”

 

Neville nodded and turned to go into the Great Hall, his steps lighter than they had been in months.

 

 

“You can come out, Draco. I know you’re there,” Harry spoke with a bit of smugness.

 

Draco stepped out from the shadows and crossed his arms over his chest. “How did you know?”

 

Harry shrugged. “Dunno, just did. So, I assume you heard everything?”

 

“Yeah. Bit of a surprise, that. I always thought Pans was an eager supporter.”

 

“Guess you were wrong. Then again, who would have guessed she’d get involved with Neville?” Harry chuckled.

 

“True,” Draco answered with a shudder, “but she could have done worse I suppose, at least Longbottom is pureblooded and holds with tradition.” At Harry’s confused expression he elaborated, “His family, like mine, are one of the oldest lines. While others mixed with the muggleborn, or worse, muggles, the Longbottoms remained pure. Just as the Malfoys, Weasleys, Parkinsons and well, pretty much all the Slytherin families have done. When the appropriate time comes, Neville and Pansy will be handfasted, not married. They will be bound magically to one another for the rest of their lives. He will always take care of her, and her of him. It’s the way it was done in the old days, and the way it is still done in pureblood families. Muggle marriages can be ended, wizard handfastings cannot.”

 

Harry frowned a bit at that. “My parents were married.”

 

“Your mum was muggleborn,” Draco replied.

 

“My dad wasn’t though, he was pureblooded,” Harry replied with a frown. “I wonder why they got married in the muggle way?”

 

“I suspect it was your mother’s idea, but seeing as they’re gone, I doubt we’ll ever know.”

 

Harry nodded reluctantly and Draco put his arms around him. “Come on, we have a few minutes before class. Let’s find somewhere more private.”

 

As Harry and Draco made their way toward the dungeons, Ron turned and looked at the smiling face of his girlfriend. “Alright,” he sighed. “You were right. Malfoy seems to be good for him.”

 

Hermione didn’t answer; she just leaned back into her boyfriend’s embrace and smiled.

 

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Original Posting Date: Fri, 13 Aug 2004 13:39:17 -0400 (EDT)

 

Hush little baby, don't say a word. And never mind that noise you heard, It's just the beast under your bed, In your closet, in your head. – Metallica

 

Part 13

 

The Slytherin common room looked the same as it had back in second year. Harry quietly followed Draco to his room, where under the safety of his Invisibility Cloak, he watched the sleeping forms of his targets.

 

There were three beds on one side of the room and two on the other. Draco’s was closest to the door with Crabbe’s beside his, and Goyle’s – empty for obvious reasons – on the other side of Crabbe’s. Zabini and Nott’s beds were side by side on the wall opposite.

 

Harry looked from one side of the room to the other, trying to decide who to start with.

 

Crabbe had been the muscle, the one to carry out the beating – with Goyle of course; Nott had tied him down, made disparaging remarks and even taken his turn at operating the broom handle, But Zabini… Zabini had masterminded the entire thing.

 

Harry had chosen his first target.

 

Walking swiftly to the side of his bed, he waved his hand in the air and cast a protective bubble around the area. No one could get in or out, and no one would hear him scream. “Blaise,” Harry bent low and whispered in his ear. “Wake up, Blaise; it’s time to play.”

 

Draco stood by the door and kept watch. He was entranced by the way Potter moved, the way he effortlessly used wandless magic, the dark, malicious smile on his face as he bent down to whisper in Zabini’s ear. He knew that he had been lucky, that had things been different, if he hadn’t gone off by himself that day, if his own past hadn’t made the idea of assaulting someone in such a fashion so abhorrent, he too could be lying in blissful slumber awaiting the fate that was about to be dealt to his roommates.

 

Instead, he got to watch as they were punished, and, with any luck, he would get to shag the most powerful wizard since Merlin when the night was through.

 

 

Blaise was having a wonderful dream; he was standing at the side of his Lord. He looked out into the sea of masked and robed Death Eaters and smiled. He was being rewarded. Given the highest of honour for his flawless take-down of the so called ‘Saviour of the Wizarding World’. All those before him were being made to bow to him, to give him the respect and fear he deserved as Voldemort’s new second in command. Yes, life was sweet as far as he was concerned. He had power, and no one – save his Lord – could touch him now.

 

Then a voice invaded his fantasy, a very familiar voice with a decidedly unfamiliar hardness.

 

“Blaise, wake up, Blaise; it’s time to play.”

 

Awake now, and fearing the worst, Blaise slowly opened his eyes and instantly wished he hadn’t. For there, hovering over him like the angel of death, was Harry Potter.

 

“Oh good,” Harry smiled, “you’re awake. Now we can start.”

 

“S-start what?” was the stuttered reply. In all his years at Hogwarts, Zabini had never seen Potter look like this. This was the look of a powerful wizard, not the shy, easy-going boy he had attacked only days previously. He knew, deep down, that appearances could be deceiving. One only had to look at the old fool of a Headmaster to know that. Dumbledore had obviously schooled his pupil well. Harry Potter, right now, was fucking scary.

 

“My revenge, of course,” Harry answered nonchalantly. “You didn’t think I would really let you get away with what you did to me, did you?” At Zabini’s confused look, Harry chuckled darkly, “Oh, you did. Well, that just makes this all the sweeter then, doesn’t it?” Before Zabini had a chance to reply, Harry was inside his mind, making him re-live the events of Harry’s assault, only multiplying the pain and humiliation tenfold.

 

“Scream, Zabini,” Harry whispered. “It makes no difference, no one will hear you.”

 

 

“And he actually said that, that he’d help me?” Pansy asked in stunned disbelief.

 

“Yeah, I told you Harry was a good guy, Pans. He’ll keep you safe, I promise you,” Neville whispered and then kissed her softly. “I couldn’t stand it if you were forced to marry someone else, anyone else. I love you.”

 

“And I love you, Neville. So much,” Pansy replied as Neville’s arms wrapped around her. “And Draco? What is his part in all of this?”

 

Neville chuckled. “He’s Harry’s lover. I don’t know how that happened, or how long it’s been going on for, but they are definitely together. Harry said he would talk to Draco about how best to deal with things. I’m not worried anymore; Harry has never let me down.”

 

“If you’re sure, then I won’t worry either. Besides, if Draco and Harry are really together, then I know of at least one person in Slytherin that I can trust now. It takes some of the pressure off.”

 

“Just don’t let your guard down, love. I couldn’t stand it if you were hurt,” Neville said with emotion.

 

“I’ll be careful,” Pansy replied, “I promise.”

 

“Good. We better get back to our rooms, it’s late,” Neville said regretfully.

 

“I know. Just a few more months and then we’ll graduate and never have to sleep apart again,” Pansy said before rising up on tiptoe to press a kiss to Neville’s lips.

 

 

Laying awake in his room, Severus Snape contemplated his fate. As a boy he had been a loner, not always by choice but by circumstance. His desperation to fit in somewhere – anywhere – had eventually led him to Voldemort, and ultimately, his salvation.

 

Years of repressed anger and hatred had been purged from his system while in service to the Dark Lord. Killing Muggles had been extremely therapeutic at the time, but once the thrill of his seeming power had worn off, he realized that he would never fit in with the other Death Eaters despite their matching tattoos. He was not rich, handsome, and powerful like Lucius, not was he as weak minded and easily awed as Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, McNair and a slew of others. He was just an angry young man who had made a horrendous choice. He immediately sought to rectify it.

 

Coming to Albus Dumbledore had been a humbling and life-altering experience. The Headmaster of Hogwarts, in his wisdom, saw something in the confused young man that Severus was, and he took him under his wing, and into his protection; he gave Severus not only a job that he enjoyed, but a sense of comradery as well. He had made friends in his new position, and more importantly, he had made a change in himself. He was no longer willing to blindly follow a madman with illusions of grandeur. And all it had taken to make him see the light was the defeat of his Master by an infant wizard of limited capabilities.

 

Harry Potter. How he hated that boy. And yet, he had dedicated his life to keeping him safe, to teaching him the skills he would need to survive. His life-debt to James Potter had been repaid several times over, and he still continued to train the boy. It was madness. But, on the other hand, Potter was the only hope the world had against Voldemort and his band of AK-happy idiots.

 

With a sigh, Severus sat up and swung his legs out of bed. He slipped his feet into his slippers and shuffled out to the small kitchen in his quarters to make tea. He would get no sleep tonight; like most nights, he had too many things on his mind for rest to find him.

 

If the truth were to be told, Snape knew why he continued to train with Harry Potter. It had nothing to do with James Potter, the Order, the safety of wizards everywhere, or the world at large. It was for entirely selfish reasons. He wanted his freedom, and the only way to get that was for Harry to fulfill his destiny and kill Voldemort.

 

“If he would only get off his arse and do it already,” Severus muttered to himself as he poured a generous dollop of brandy into his tea and sat at the table.

 

 

The pain was excruciating. More so than he would have ever believed possible. And the mental anguish was almost worse. These were not his thoughts, his feelings; this was not his body being violated in this degrading fashion. But they were his words, his vile, disgusting words that he heard whispered in his ear, his voice that he heard laughing and taunting him throughout this humiliation. And just as the scene ended and the darkness swept in, it started all over again. For the third time. He couldn’t stop himself as he cried and begged for mercy that he knew he wouldn’t be granted. Mercy he hadn’t granted when it had been asked of him.

 

He’d picked the wrong side. It was obvious to him now. Harry Potter was not the Golden Boy he’d been led to believe him as. No, he was far darker, far scarier and far more powerful than any tale that Blaise had been told. Potter would make good on his promise of vengeance. He would make him suffer and bleed and if he was lucky, when it was all over he’d allow him to die. Because there was one thing Blaise knew for sure. He didn’t want to ever go through this again.

 

 

In a small bed in the farthest corner of the room, Greg Goyle sat with his knees to his chest, his arms wrapped around his legs and his forehead resting on his knees. He was a girl. Harry Potter had turned him into a girl and Madame Pomfrey didn’t know how to fix him.

 

What good was he going to be as a female? His only saving grace was his brute strength, and now he didn’t even have that. His family would surely disown him, and he had nowhere to go, no one to turn to, and no idea of what to do with himself.

 

He followed orders. He always had. If not his father’s, then Crabbe’s father’s. When he came to Hogwarts, he followed Draco’s orders. Now that he was older, he did what was expected of him and joined the Death Eaters; he did everything he was told, no questions asked, and figured that as long as he followed orders and kept his head down, he’d be okay.

 

But now what? He was a girl. He’d never even known that it was possible to make someone a girl. Potter was obviously sneakier than he thought. Perhaps he’d made a mistake by attacking him. He wondered, for possibly the first time, if he should have questioned his orders, if he should have refused to take the Mark like he’d wanted to instead of simply doing what his father expected.

 

It really made no difference now. He was of no use to the Dark Lord anymore. Aside from Bellatrix Lestrange, Voldemort didn’t allow women to be Death Eaters. He thought them weak.

 

Unintentionally, Greg realized that Potter may have done him a favour.

 

 

It was getting late. It had been over an hour since Harry had sat on the edge of the bed, over an hour that he had kept Blaise locked in a loop of his memories. With each repetition, the pain and mental anguish increased until Harry was pretty sure that if he increased it even the slightest bit more, it would kill Zabini. Not wanting him dead, not yet at least, Harry stopped the mental torture and grinned evilly down at his captive.

 

“You will never speak of this, you can not. I have taken the liberty to ensure a few safety measures to that effect,” Harry smirked as Zabini’s eyes widened in fear. “If you try to tell anyone what has happened this night, you will lose the ability to speak. If you try to write it down, you will lose all feeling in your hands. If you attempt to let anyone take these thoughts from your head, or try to place them in a pensieve, you will find yourself incapable of any thought what so ever. Trapped in a prison of your own flesh; not even thoughts to keep you company. Do I make myself understood?”

 

Blaise was too scared to speak. He managed a slight nod and tried not to whimper in fear as Harry leaned into his personal space, that scary-as-fuck grin on his face.

 

“Good. I think you and I are done… for now. I have plans to *discuss* things with Crabbe and Nott later, Goyle as you know has already been punished. I would hate for you to do something that messes up my plans,” Harry finished off.

 

Blaise shook his head in fear and then let out a startled shriek and lost control of his bladder as Harry suddenly leaned closer to his face and wrapped his hand around Blaise’s throat. “See that you don’t.”

 

As Harry took down the ward that he had enclosed them in, he turned back to the bed in disgust. “Oh, and Zabini? Don’t even think about pestering the house elves to change your bedding. Do it yourself,” Harry said as he walked to Draco, took his hand and led him from the room.

 

 

Listening to Parvati and Lavender’s soft snores, Hermione lay awake and pondered her one-time best friend, Harry Potter. There were things going on with him that she couldn’t explain. Things that went beyond the loss of Sirius, Voldemort’s influence, his break up with Oliver Wood – and didn’t *that* throw her for a loop. No, at some point in the past week, something major had happened in Harry’s life, something that he wasn’t sharing with anyone.

 

Except, perhaps, Malfoy.

 

Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. If there was ever a less likely couple, it would have to be Ron and Snape. Their animosity if not down right hatred of one another was legendary. But here they were, after almost seven years of hexes, fist fights, pranks, verbal wars, and Quidditch squabbles: a couple. Dating.

 

Which led Hermione to the conclusion that what ever had happened to Harry, Malfoy had somehow been the one to either help him through it, or pick up the pieces afterwards.

 

But what was it?

 

For now, the only facts she had been able to piece together were that Harry wasn’t sleeping in his room, that he had been quiet and withdrawn since the last match against Slytherin, and that Professor Snape was somehow aware of what was going on. It was obvious by the way he had ignored Harry in the past few days. Normally, he went out of his way to sneer at, belittle or take points from him every time he saw him.

 

It was a mystery, but not one she was going to be able to solve laying around in bed. With a soft sigh of frustration, she got out of bed, dressed quietly, and slipped out of the room.

 

The common room was empty, the fire in the grate burnt down to mere embers. With a silence developed from years of sneaking around the school with Harry and Ron, she left the tower and made her way down the stairs. At the third floor landing, she heard footsteps and quickly hid in the shadow of an old suit of armour.

 

Harry and Draco passed by, fingers entwined. Just a few feet from where she was standing, holding her breath, Draco pushed Harry up against the wall and kissed him fiercely. Hermione covered her mouth with her hand to hold in her gasp of shock. Knowing they were together was one thing, actually seeing them kiss was totally different.

 

As the kiss ended, Draco pulled Harry away from the wall and started walking again. “Hurry,” he said. “I can’t wait to get you alone, Merlin I’m so fucking turned on right now.”

 

Hermione’s eyes widened as Harry chuckled darkly before responding with, “Torture does it for you then, Malfoy?”

 

“So long as it’s not mine, hell yeah!”

 

As the boys moved further down the hall, Hermione came out of the shadows and slowly followed behind them until she saw where they were headed. Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, which could only mean one thing. The Chamber of Secrets.

 

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione whispered as she headed back to her room, “What have you done?”

 

  Top

Original Posting Date: Tue, 24 Aug 2004 17:12:09 -0400 (EDT)

 

Girls can wear jeans and cut their hair short. Wear shirts and boots, ’cause it’s OK to be a boy. But for a boy to look like a girl is degrading, ’cause you think that being a girl is degrading. But secretly you’d love to know what it’s like, wouldn’t you. What it feels like for a girl – Madonna

 

Part 14

 

“Mr. Potter, you will come with me,” Severus Snape ordered as an extremely tired-looking Harry Potter entered the Great Hall for breakfast.

 

Harry just shrugged his shoulders, cast a quick questioning look over to the Slytherin table at Draco, who shook his head as if to say that he had no idea what it was about, and then followed Snape out of the room while the students left behind began to buzz with questions.

 

As he followed, Harry began to realize where they were headed and couldn’t help but smirk to himself. He knew that Madame Pomfrey would be at a complete loss as to what to do with Goyle. The spell he’d used was one he’d only recently found in one of Salazar’s books. There was a counter spell, of course, but he was the only who knew it, and if they thought they were going to bully him into fixing Goyle, they had another think coming.

 

“In here, Potter,” Snape bit out as he held open the door to the medical ward.

 

“Yes, Sir,” Harry replied and walked into the room.

 

In the far corner, still huddled in the bed, Gregory sat. He was silent, watching with apprehension as Harry made his way across the room toward him. He still wasn’t sure what to think of his current situation. True, he wasn’t too keen on remaining a woman, but faced with the option of being turned back and having to go back to Voldemort, especially after hearing what had happened to his father, he was beginning to think he could live with having tits.

 

As Harry stepped up to the side of the bed, Snape came around the other side so he was facing Harry; Goyle on the bed between them. “What did you do to him, Potter?”

 

Harry snorted. “Fairly obvious, isn’t it? I turned him into a girl.”

 

“I can see that, Potter, what I want to know is *how* you turned him into a girl! And how to turn him back,” Snape replied with obvious frustration. It wasn’t like he didn’t think the boy deserved punishment, but this could get Potter expelled.

 

“I found a few interesting spell books and this was in one of them. I can reverse it, but I don’t know if I want to,” Harry said, and then lowered his voice, “After what he did to me, why should I fix him?”

 

“Potter!” Snape hissed and looked from Harry to Greg and back again.

 

Knowing that he had just exposed Severus, Harry quickly took back the memory of his words from Greg’s mind. He shot Snape a look when the other man lifted an eyebrow in question of his actions.

 

“Forget you saw that,” Harry said and then erased both the words and the action from Snape’s mind as well.

 

Snape blinked and then looked at Harry. “What do you mean you don’t know if you want to? If you know the reversal, I demand that you use it this instant!”

 

“No.”

 

“Yes!”

 

“No, and you can’t make me.”

 

“Fifty points from Gryffindor! And detention with Filch for a week!” Snape roared.

 

“Still not fixing him,” Harry replied.

 

“I’ll see you expelled for this Potter!”

 

“Go ahead, try it and see what happens,” Harry calmly replied.

 

The silent young woman on the bed looked from one furious man to the other and cleared her throat. “Um, Professor Snape? Can I maybe talk to Potter alone for a minute?”

 

 

“Psst! Ron!” Hermione whispered as her boyfriend lumbered out of the Great Hall on his way to class.

 

“’Mione? Where are you?” he asked, looking around and not seeing her.

 

“Over here!” she replied as he walked towards the sound of her voice. She grabbed his arm when he got close enough and dragged him into an empty classroom.

 

“Hermione, what the hell?”

 

“Shh! Be quiet, Ron. I don’t want anyone to hear us.” Once the door was closed, Hermione put up silencing spells on the room and a locking charm on the door. “There, now we can talk.”

 

“About what? What the hell is going on here?” Ron asked in a fluttered state.

 

“Harry, Ron. He’s done something. I don’t know what, but I heard him and Draco talking about torture, and that Malfoy… gets off on it.”

 

Ron screwed his faced up in disgust. “Like whips and chains and that kind of thing? Merlin, I never took Harry for the kinky type.”

 

“No! And, eww?” Hermione replied. “Not Harry torturing Malfoy, idiot. Harry torturing someone else and Malfoy watching!”

 

Ron gulped. “Are you sure? This is an awful big accusation to make. What exactly did you hear?”

 

Hermione told Ron her story of the events of the night before, from when she was lying in bed trying to put the pieces together to hearing Harry and Draco as they came toward her in the hall, to seeing them kissing. “Then Malfoy said, ‘I can’t wait to get you alone, Merlin I’m so fucking turned on right now.’ And then Harry said, ‘Torture does it for you then, Malfoy?’ And Draco said, ‘So long as it’s not mine, hell yeah!’. So you see? Harry is in trouble, Ron, and we have to help him!”

 

“Wait, wait. Didn’t you just say yesterday that Malfoy was *good* for Harry? Now you’re saying he’s got him torturing people for kicks?” Ron rubbed his temples and slumped down onto a nearby desk. “My brain hurts!”

 

 

Draco watched as Harry followed Snape out of the room before glancing down the table toward Zabini with a deadly scowl. The other boy shook his head frantically and quickly got to his feet, leaving the Hall without finishing his breakfast. ‘Well,’ Draco thought to himself, ‘if it wasn’t Zabini, then what was Snape after Harry for?’

 

It only took him a few seconds to remember the other missing member from the Slytherin table – Greg Goyle – and his lips twitched in mirth. He had forgotten about Greg, and truthfully, he hoped Harry wouldn’t turn him back any time soon. He wanted to get a look at his former friend before he was changed back. Possibly take pictures even. One never knew when blackmail would come in handy.

 

With only a few minutes until class, Draco gathered his books and made his way out into the hall just as Weasley was being dragged into an empty classroom. He shuddered in disgust at the very idea of the Mudblood and the weasel snogging. Why either of them would turn to each other when they had someone like Harry around them for the past seven years boggled his mind. Not that he himself had really given much thought to Harry in that way before recent events, but he had noticed the boy’s looks. He’d have had to be blind not to. He just preferred to ignore them.

 

While still thin, Harry had grown a few inches; his height now matched Draco’s own. Harry’s hair was a bit longer but still quite unruly; it seemed that no matter what was done to it, it would always be a mess. But despite his thin frame and messy locks, Harry had a certain appeal to him. His body was well-toned and tanned, and he held himself like a warrior in battle. His eyes were beautiful, even hidden behind those awful Muggle glasses, and his mouth was full and lush with soft lips that begged to be kissed.

 

He almost couldn’t wait for the weekend and their trip to London. He was very excited about taking Harry shopping; he had several ideas in mind already for what to buy, and how to have his hair done, and if possible, to get rid of those aforementioned awful glasses. But as much as the thought of a well-dressed Harry Potter turned him on, a naked Harry Potter was even better.

 

Last night, after making their way back to the Chamber, they had barely made it to the study before Draco had lost control and practically ripped their clothes off. He couldn’t remember a time when he had been so turned on. Just watching the way Harry had played with Blaise, seeing the other boy’s fear and pain… It was all he could do to keep from rubbing himself through his pants as he watched.

 

He was quite happy with the physical aspect of his relationship with Harry, the other boy was quite a skilled lover, the best Draco had ever had, but he wanted something more from him, something he wasn’t sure Harry was willing to give just yet, if at all. He wanted to take him. To feel him writhing on his cock, to ream him hard and deep and make him scream.

 

The more he thought about it, the more he wanted it. It aggravated him to no end that because of his dorm mates, he might never have that. That his Harry might be too emotionally damaged by their attack on him to ever give himself in that way. It was pissing Draco off more than he would have thought.

 

Potter had taken his revenge on Zabini last night, but Draco had yet to extract his own. And for what they had cost him, he would make them pay as well.

 

 

Snape snarled and spun on his heel. “You’ll be late for class, Potter, I’m giving you ten minutes, any longer and I’m deducting points,” he spat as he strode out of the room.

 

Harry crossed his arms over his chest and regarded the young woman on the bed. He still couldn’t believe that this was Gregory Goyle. She looked so different, frail, delicate even. “You wanted to speak to me?”

 

“I, um, well…” Greg started.

 

“You heard Snape, I don’t have a lot of time. Spit it out.”

 

“I don’t want you to turn me back,” Greg whispered.

 

Harry spluttered. “What? Why not?”

 

“’Cause,” Greg replied, keeping his eyes downcast, “if I’m a girl, the Dark Lord won’t want me no more, my parents will disown me, and I can start over. I’ll be free of all of them.”

 

To say he was stunned was an understatement. Harry had expected to be bribed, saddled with guilt, threatened, and any number of other things when Greg requested to speak to him alone. He hadn’t expected this. “I thought you liked being a Death Eater?”

 

“I don’t. I just never had no choice. I’ve never had no choice in anything. My father told me what to do all my life, he told me what to eat, what to wear, where to go to school, who to be friends with, everything. I never chose Vinny or Drake for friends, my dad told me to be Drake’s friend, that it was my job to protect him and to do whatever he told me. Vinny’s dad said the same to him. Though, I think Vinny likes it. Last summer, me and Vinny were taken to the Dark Lord, our fathers told us to join, so we did. It’s not like we had a choice, if we refused we’d be dead.”

 

“And so what, you just stuck out your arm and let him mark you?” Harry asked.

 

“Yeah. It was expected.”

 

“And what you did to me?” Harry asked rather harshly.

 

Goyle finally looked up and met Harry’s angry glare. “Wasn’t anything personal, Potter. I was just following orders. If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t really enjoy it or nothing.”

 

Harry bore into Greg’s mind. He tore through his memories, moving faster and faster from one to the next. He saw his attack from Greg’s point of view, felt the indifference for what he was doing. He went back farther, saw the letter written by Goyle Senior with the instructions of what he and the others were to do, again he felt Greg’s compliance but there was no anticipation, no hate or aggression.

 

Harry began to move rapidly back through years of Greg’s memories, always it was the same thing, he would be told what to do and he did it with out question, as though his own thoughts or feelings were irrelevant. Almost like he had been under Imperious his entire life.

 

Withdrawing from Greg’s mind, Harry cocked his head in thought before speaking. “You know, I could be expelled for this.”

 

“I’ll tell Professor Snape that I asked you to leave me like this.”

 

“What will you do when you leave Hogwarts? You’ll have nowhere to go,” Harry asked.

 

“I’ll figure something out,” Greg answered. “Anything has to be better than joining Voldemort and being forced to kill people. I never killed no-one yet, and I don’t want to. If I go back to being me, to being a Death Eater, I know I’ll have to kill people. I don’t want that.”

 

“Alright, I’ll leave as you are. But when this war is over, I’ll give you the chance to change back.”

 

“Thanks, Potter. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about what happened.”

 

“It’s not worth much,” Harry snorted, “but it’s a start.”

 

Harry shook his head in disbelief. He was helping a Death Eater to defect. A death Eater who had helped in a personal assault on himself, at that. And he was late for Potions. Snape was going to go ballistic.

 

 

In the deepest parts of the dungeon, in a dark corner of a hidden room, Blaise Zabini sat crouched in fear. There was no hope for him now, he had no future, no power, and one very pissed off wizard bent on revenge, coming after him. Again. He knew he had messed up big time. If Harry didn’t kill him, Voldemort would. And neither would be merciful about it.

 

With nothing left to lose, he aimed his wand at his own forehead. He didn’t know if it would work, but he had no other option. “Avada Kedavra!”

 

  Top

Original Posting Date: Mon, 30 Aug 2004 12:53:07 -0400 (EDT)

 

Before you judge me take a look at you. Can’t you find something better to do. Point the finger, slow to understand. Arrogance and Ignorance go hand in hand – Metallica

 

Part 15

 

Ron was still slumped on the desk as Hermione paced the room and wrung her hands in distress. “We have to do something, Ron! If Harry turns dark…” She let the sentence trail off, not even wanting to consider the ramifications.

 

Ron was on his feet in an instant. “Hey! That’s bloody unfair and you know it. You don’t know for sure what Harry and Malfoy were talking about. For all we know, they could have been reading DADA books together.”

 

Ron shook his head at Hermione’s scowl. “I’m just saying, besides, I jumped to the wrong conclusion before with Harry and nearly lost my best friend because of it. I’m not making that mistake again. If you want to know what’s going on, I suggest we ask him instead of thinking the worst. For once,” he added quietly. Fourth year and the Tri-wiz Tournament was still fresh in his mind. He had let his jealousy get the better of him and doubted Harry’s sincerity. He wouldn’t make the mistake of jumping to conclusions again.

 

“Yeah. Right,” Hermione huffed. “And how do you suppose we do that, walk up to him and say, ‘Hey Harry, torture anyone lately?’ I highly doubt that would go over well.”

 

“S’better than just assuming he’s guilty without asking, isn’t it?”

 

Hermione hung her head. She wasn’t often wrong, but in this case, she had to admit that she was. What was worse, was that Ron was right. Luckily for her the five minute warning bell rang and they had to hurry to make it to class on time. And she had Potions, with Harry. Maybe she would get some answers sooner than later.

 

 

Standing in the hall waiting for Snape, Draco noticed that several students were missing. Potter being one, and Goyle another. Both were accounted for though; it was Zabini’s absence that had him wondering.

 

Had Harry scared the boy so badly that he was skiving off classes to avoid him? Draco chuckled quietly to himself. He had to admit, after watching Harry last night, he would have avoided him at all costs as well. Probably for less than what Zabini had been put through.

 

As Snape strode quickly toward them, Draco could see he was fit to be tied; obviously, whatever it was he had wanted with Harry had not gone his way. Several of the Gryffindors, upon seeing the irate man storming toward them, swallowed in wide-eyed fear. It made Draco smile; there was nothing more amusing than watching Snape take his frustrations out on Gryffindors. In his opinion, anyway.

 

 

Harry had made it to potions just under the allotted time given him by Snape and slid into his seat beside Hermione. Ron, the lucky sod, wasn’t taking Potions anymore. Harry envied him his freedom. “Where were you?” Hermione whispered.

 

“Don’t worry about it, ’Mione,” Harry replied. “Snape just wanted to speak with me.”

 

Hermione pursed her lips and huffed at Harry before turning back to her text. “I know you’re up to something, Harry, and I will figure it out whether you tell me or not.”

 

Harry shook his head and grinned to himself. He’d let her have her fun trying to figure him out, but if she got too close to the truth, he’d have to make her forget. He hoped he wouldn’t have to use this new ability on his friends, but if they left him no choice, he would.

 

Just as Harry was opening his text book, a brown school owl flew in the window and landed on Professor Snape’s desk.

 

“Potter, come here,” Snape sneered as he read the note he’d retrieved from the owl.

 

Harry dumped his books and other things back into his bag and shouldered it before heading to the front of the room. “Yes, Professor?”

 

“Your presence is requested in the Headmaster’s office. The password is wriggly-worms.”

 

“Thank you, sir,” Harry replied and then left the room. He had no idea what Dumbledore wanted, but he was glad to escape Potions. Although, seeing as he had one-on-one training with the git later that evening, it might have been better to let him take out his frustrations in the classroom – with witnesses – than alone in the dungeons and armed with a wand and a licence to use Unforgivables.

 

 

Albus Dumbledore had seen and heard many odd things in his time at Hogwarts, both as a professor and as its Headmaster, but the information he’d received this morning had to take the cake. The portrait of Boris the Brave, currently located on the third floor, just past the second staircase, had been waiting in the blank portrait in his bedroom first thing this morning to report a most unusual occurrence. It would seem that poor Boris had witnessed Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter in a heated kissing session just feet from where he was stationed.

 

But that wasn’t the worst of it, no, he had also overheard their conversation, one which insinuated that Harry had tortured someone. And that Draco had been witness to it. That was the main reason for his calling Harry to his office. He alone knew how powerful Harry Potter really was, and if the boy was not reined in, kept under control, he could, and possibly would, be a bigger threat to wizard-kind than Voldemort could even dream of.

 

It was times like these that he wondered if he’d done the right thing by training Harry to his fullest potential.

 

 

Trudging through the halls on his way to see the Headmaster, Harry wondered what it was the old man wanted. He hadn’t done anything as of late to get himself into trouble. Well, unless you counted terrorizing a fellow student, but seeing as Zabini wouldn’t be telling anyone, he wasn’t worried about that. He knew it wasn’t anything to do with Voldemort as his scar hadn’t burned, which only left his schooling or training.

 

“Wriggly-worms,” Harry spoke to the gargoyle and waited as it moved aside to grant him entrance. He chuckled to himself over the password, it was just one of the Weasley twin’s newest inventions; jelly worms that wriggled in your stomach for up to an hour after you’d eaten them.

 

At the top of the stairs, Harry knocked on the door and then opened it, stepping inside. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

 

“Ah, yes, Harry. Have a seat, my boy. Lemon drop?” the old wizard offered, indicating the dish of candy on his desk.

 

“No, thank you, Headmaster,” Harry replied.

 

“I suppose you would like me to get to the point of this little visit?”

 

“Yes, sir, if you wouldn’t mind. I’m missing Potions, after all,” Harry answered.

 

Dumbledore steepled his fingers and leaned forward in his chair, the permanent twinkle in his eyes dimmer than Harry had ever seen it. “Have you ever wondered how it is that I seem to know everything that goes on in this school, Harry?”

 

“Magic, sir?” Harry answered with a twitch to his lips.

 

Dumbledore chuckled, “Well, you are partially right, lad. The castle itself has eyes and ears everywhere, and those eyes and ears report to me.”

 

“The portraits,” Harry spoke with understanding.

 

“As well as the ghosts, the house elves, and other animate things. Now, do you know why I have called you here today?” Harry’s closed off expression spoke volumes and Dumbledore prompted him, “Is there something you wish to tell me, Harry?”

 

“I’d rather you just tell me why I’m here than take the chance of incriminating myself if you don’t mind, sir,” Harry replied with just a bit of malice.

 

“Very well, it concerns the recent development between yourself and young Mister Malfoy.”

 

“Sir,” Harry replied, “with all due respect, I fail to see where my personal relationships are any of your business.”

 

“Ordinarily, Harry, I would agree with you. But in this case I must make an exception. I was hoping you might shed a bit of light on a recent conversation you and Draco shared, one having to do with torture?”

 

Dumbledore sat back in his chair and waited as Harry seemed to be gathering his thoughts. “I fear your informant must have misunderstood, sir. I tortured no one. And what Draco and I do in our spare time with one another is our business. I will not discuss the details of our intimate relationship with you.”

 

“Very well, Harry. I had hoped you would be more forthcoming with me,” Dumbledore sighed and shook his head slightly. “I know something has happened to you recently, Harry, something awful from what little I have managed to piece together. Why you felt it better to confide in Severus than myself I cannot understand, and I wish to, very much so. I do care for you greatly, dear boy.”

 

“There is nothing you can do to help me with that, sir. It is over and done with, and I wish to leave it behind me. Snape was a necessary risk, he has… skills that were needed. It was not I that had involved him in the first place.”

 

“Yes, yes. I know that Draco was the one to call Severus to his quarters, that he had carried you there from outside and that you have been coming and going from the tower at all hours of the night. What I don’t know is why. And in light of the situation, I dare say I have every right to know all the facts. What happened to you could happen again, to some other student. If there are safety measures that should be in effect and aren’t, you owe it to the student body as a whole to tell me what happened.”

 

“I–” Harry started and then crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re a manipulative old coot! You know that?”

 

The twinkle was back in full effect. “I have been told that, once or twice,” Dumbledore chuckled.

 

“Fine. But you will leave this alone. I will not give you names, you will not ask me for them. Understood?”

 

Dumbledore nodded his head in acceptance and Harry huffed in annoyance. “I was attacked on the way back from the last Quidditch match. Voldemort sent orders to a few of his wannabe Death Eaters. From what I understand now, it was supposed to be a test of Draco’s loyalties. However, Draco went for a walk right after the game, and the others, in their stupidity, carried out the plan regardless. I was left unconscious in the Slytherin locker room. Draco found me and took me back to the school. He summoned Snape to deal with my injuries and we’ve been closer ever since. End of story.”

 

The old wizard sighed and stroked a hand through his beard. “Harry, why didn’t you defend yourself?”

 

“My attacker used a spell I hadn’t heard of before. It bound me magically.”

 

“Was this the first spell cast?”

 

Harry shook his head. “No. They used a Petrificus Totalus on me first.”

 

“And you didn’t reflect it or break it because…”

 

“You told me never to tip my hand, sir. That no matter the circumstances, I was to keep the truth of my real strength a secret until I faced Voldemort,” Harry replied through clenched teeth.

 

“Yes, I did, didn’t I? Harry, what did these students do to you?”

 

Harry looked up at Dumbledore, rage burning in his eyes. The old man drew in a quick, startled breath and sat up straighter in his chair. “I would really rather not speak of it.”

 

Dumbledore nodded his head, unsure if he would be able to speak should he open his mouth. The look in Harry’s eyes was not one of a righteous warrior for the side of light, but one of a vengeful wizard who had been hurt in unimaginable ways. It was like looking into the eyes of his worst nightmare come true. The sudden closeness between Harry and Draco Malfoy only added to the old man’s fears. While Draco was not a Death Eater (yet, at any rate), the Malfoys were and always had been dark wizards. If Harry chose to go down that path, there would be no stopping him.

 

“If that’s all, sir, I’d like to go back to class.”

 

“Dismissed,” Dumbledore managed to reply without his voice trembling.

 

As soon as the door closed behind Harry, Dumbledore put quill to parchment and wrote two quick notes for Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley to join him in his office after lunch. If anyone could drag Harry back from the darkness, it would be his oldest and dearest friends.

 

 

Instead of going back to class, Harry headed for the third floor. He needed to be somewhere he could let go, somewhere he could scream at the top of his lungs and no-one would hear him. He was angry. Beyond angry. Having Dumbledore question him had only brought up more hurt. If he had been allowed to leave school and join the Aurors when Voldemort had struck over the Christmas holidays he could have finished it. Voldemort would be dead, he wouldn’t have been attacked by Zabini and the others, and he wouldn’t be struggling with his own morality. But no, Dumbledore didn’t think it was the right time, he didn’t think Harry was ready yet.

 

He was wrong.

 

Because of Dumbledore, people had suffered. Harry included. He was tired of taking orders from him, he was ready, and the next time Tom Riddle so much as farted in public, Harry was going after him.

 

 

Draco hadn’t expected Harry to come back to Potions, but when he didn’t show up for Herbology he started to worry. It wasn’t like Harry couldn’t take care of himself; he could – well most of the time. If he was invincible, they wouldn’t be where they were right now. He wondered if he and Harry would have gotten together eventually if he hadn’t found him that day, if Harry had never been jumped and brutalized by his team-mates.

 

When Herbology was over, Draco made his way back to the castle with everyone else and headed into the Great Hall for lunch. Within moments, Harry arrived and took his seat.

 

As he ate, Draco watched his lover closely. There was something bothering Harry, he was picking at his food, ignoring the Weasel and actually growling at the Weaslette when she sat next to him and put her arm around him.

 

Not that he didn’t think she deserved it. She was touching what was his, after all.

 

A large brown owl flew into the hall and dropped two parchments on the Gryffindor table, one in front of Granger and the other in front of Weasley. Draco continued to watch as they both opened the scrolls, looked to one another with raised eyebrows and then tucked the parchments away. He did not miss the looks they both shot at Harry.

 

 

Harry pushed his plate away and stood up. He wasn’t hungry. He didn’t know why he even bothered coming to lunch. He made brief eye contact with Draco and then left the Great Hall.

 

After turning the corner, Harry waited. He knew Draco would be right behind him. He was counting on it. It didn’t even seem strange anymore that he would open up to Draco Malfoy over his friends. Ron and Hermione were great but they wouldn’t be able to handle this. Ron would shout and want to beat the Slytherins senseless, and Hermione would want to psychoanalyse him. Draco listened to him. He let him talk and then made helpful suggestions. He had a brilliant mind when it came to revenge, and he fully supported Harry’s right to it.

 

As Draco rounded the corner, Harry grabbed him and pulled him into his arms. He breathed in deeply and then relaxed.

 

“Harry, what did Dumbledore want with you?” Draco asked.

 

“He knows about us and he wanted to know how it happened. We have to be more careful, apparently the portraits are keeping him informed of everything. One of them mentioned our conversation last night.”

 

Draco pulled back, his eyes wide and his mouth open, before he could speak, Harry placed a finger over his lips and shook his head. “He doesn’t know, but he does think we have rather colourful sex now,” Harry chuckled.

 

Draco grinned and raised and eyebrow. “Really, and how did he come to this conclusion?”

 

“I sort of led him there,” Harry admitted, “but it was better than the alternative.”

 

“That being the truth? I agree,” Draco replied. “Harry, did you notice that Granger and Weasley both received notes at lunch?” Harry shook his head. “Well they did, and I’m assuming it has something to do with you.”

 

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I had to tell Dumbledore about the attack – I didn’t name names or say what was done to me – but he already knew something had happened. I just filled in a couple blanks.” Harry rolled his eyes, “The man is *far* too nosy. If I’m right, he’s going to drill Ron and Hermione for information – information they don’t even have – and he’ll probably let slip what I told him.”

 

“Let slip?” Draco asked sarcastically.

 

“Did I mention that he’s manipulative as well as nosy?” Harry replied. “I had hoped I wouldn’t have to use that mind invasion spell on my friends, Draco, but that’s looking less and less likely. Damn,” Harry huffed.

 

“Don’t worry about it. If it has to be done, then it has to be done. They have no right to invade your privacy in the first place. Dumbledore especially.”

 

Harry gave Draco a quick kiss. “Thanks, you always know what to say to make me feel better.”

 

Draco smiled. “I’m glad.”

 

“Come on,” Harry said as he pulled Draco down the hall, “History of Magic is next. If we get there first, we can get the back seats and get a nap in.”

 

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Original Posting Date: Mon, 6 Sep 2004 19:32:03 -0400 (EDT)

 

Well I don’t think you like me. Well I hate you as well. No one seems to like you, wish I couldn’t tell. Come on, abuse me more, I like it. Come on, keep talking cause it’s true – Silverchair

 

Part 16

 

It was after dinner and while the rest of the school was off doing whatever it was they did after dinner, Harry was down in the dungeons with Snape. Training. Which was really little more than torture practice when it all boiled down. Snape would sling curses and Harry would dodge them, counter them or simply stand still and let them hit him. It all depended on Snape’s instruction.

 

And his mood.

 

Which tonight, was definitely foul and needless to say, Harry found himself on the floor writhing under the Cruciatus curse, far sooner than he had expected. He wondered, while in the throes of agony, what exactly Snape was going to do to curb his anger once Voldemort was truly gone and Harry was no longer at Hogwarts. He pitied the students left behind.

 

He was ten minutes into the curse now and the capillaries in his eyes had burst, he had bitten almost clear through his tongue to keep from screaming, he had pulled his hair out in clumps, and was pretty sure he’d cracked his elbow on his way down the first time. All in all, he was holding up fairly well.

 

Snape wouldn’t let it go on for more than fifteen minutes, and he knew without a doubt that the last five were the easiest. By this time he could still feel the pain but his body had accepted it. When he stopped fighting it, it became easier. It was as if he had always lived with this pain and he welcomed it; embraced it even. He’d been told by the only two people who had seen him endure this – Dumbledore and Snape – that he got creepy during the last five minutes, that he laughed, smiled, and sometimes even sighed as if he was enjoying it. It never failed to freak Snape out, which was the main reason Harry still allowed him to do this.

 

Ah, yes, and there it was, the beginnings of madness had set in. His lips curved upwards, his mouth opened, and a maniacal sounding laugh erupted from his throat. He opened his eyes and locked them on Snape; saw the revulsion on his face. He laughed harder.

 

 

Following Harry down into the lower dungeons wasn’t what Draco had planned to do after dinner, but somehow he knew it was what Harry wanted. Why else would he have made a point of giving him his cloak before dinner and winking at him?

 

Now that he was here however, he wasn’t sure if he should be fascinated by what he was seeing or horrified. It had been all right at first. Snape and Harry had faced off with wands drawn; Snape had thrown some very nasty and somewhat dangerous curses at Harry who either ducked out of the way of them or reflected them. It was the most amazing thing he had ever seen. The way Harry had moved, the confidence he showed, the nasty grin on his face when he reflected one of the curses back on Snape and the other man wasn’t quick enough to get out of the way.

 

It was sweet, but oh how Harry was paying for it now.

 

Draco was familiar with the Cruciatus. He had cast it himself during his Dark Arts training and had been the unfortunate recipient of the curse one time. Only one time, thank Merlin, and he never wanted to feel it again. But watching Harry writhing on the floor, blood pooling from between his lips, fingers tangling and then pulling free from his hair leaving clumps of fine ebony silk falling away from his head was almost too much to bear.

 

He had almost thrown up when Harry’s eyes snapped open and he could see they were full of blood. If it wasn’t for the fact that he knew Harry wanted him to see this, wanted him to remain hidden, he would have stunned Severus Snape and kicked the man in the bollocks for what he was doing.

 

Draco didn’t know how much longer he could watch this. Harry had yet to scream, but the painful moaning and groaning sounds, combined with the involuntary whimpers he was making had Draco almost in tears in sympathy. Then, just when he thought it could get no worse, it did.

 

It got so much worse that Draco’s skin began to crawl.

 

Harry began to laugh, and Draco had to cover his ears – the sound was unbearably disturbing.

 

 

Watching as Harry’s lips began to curl, Snape unconsciously took a step back from the writhing boy in front of him. In all his years of service to Voldemort – before he was a spy and afterwards – he had never seen anything like Harry Potter. The boy truly disturbed him; and not much could disturb him after everything had seen and done.

 

He wondered why he did this to himself, this psychological torment he put himself through. For surely this was for him and not Harry. The first ten minutes, those were for the annoying boy at his feet but the last five, those minutes of hell were for him and him alone. He would have nightmares of that bone-chilling laugh, those blood-red eyes boring into his own, searching into his very soul. After all the pain, agony and fear he had caused to innocent Muggles in his years of loyal service to the Dark Lord, he felt he was owed a little torment of his own. And so he took it.

 

Voldemort himself no longer made him quake in his boots, but Harry Potter did. The irony was not lost on him. As a spy and soldier for the light, he was supposed to fear Voldemort and revere Harry Potter. Everyone else did, after all. But Severus knew better. He knew more about Harry Potter than most: more about his power, his temper, his deep-buried resentments to both the Muggle and magical worlds than anyone else, save Albus Dumbledore. And even on that score, he was pretty sure that he knew Harry’s darkness better than the old man did. And after the events of last week, Snape could see Harry’s dark streak coming to the surface. He could only hope that he would deal with his attackers and then let it go.

 

As Harry’s eyes drilled into his own and his laughter reached an ungodly level of noise, Snape called off the curse and blew out a heavy breath as Harry collapsed back to the floor. He took a moment to compose himself and then went for the array of potions waiting on the side-table. He would get Harry back on his feet and then take his leave.

 

After a few shots of brandy, he would replay the events of the last five minutes over and over in his mind until he was sure he would never forget them.

 

 

“Hey, Vince?” Theodore Nott called out as he entered the common room. “Have you seen Blaise today?”

 

Crabbe closed his eyes and tilted his head in thought. After a few moments he opened his eyes and shook his head. “No, I haven’t. He tore out of the Great Hall during breakfast. Haven’t seen him since.”

 

Nott looked worried and sat down on the sofa next to Crabbe. “You don’t think Potter did something to him, do you?”

 

Vince shrugged. “Maybe. He got you and Greg after all. Did you check the hospital?”

 

“I did, I even talked to Greg a bit. He said he hadn’t been there, but that Potter had been by earlier with Snape. He said Potter is refusing to fix him,” Nott chuckled nastily. “This won’t go over well with our Lord, you know how he feel about females in the ranks.”

 

Crabbe nodded. “Yeah, too bad for Greg. If Potter don’t fix him he’ll miss out on all the fun after graduation.”

 

The pair laughed for a bit over the thought of the massacre they had been promised as a Graduation/Initiation celebration. Then Nott spoke up again. “Don’t you think Potter should have been expelled for what he did to Greg, or at least for refusing to fix it?”

 

Crabbe shrugged his shoulders. “He’s Harry Fucking Potter, Ted. He could blow up half of Hogsmeade, poison the whole of Slytherin House and shag the Patil twins on the staff table during supper and he wouldn’t get expelled. Use your brain.”

 

Nott was temporarily thrown by being outwitted by Vincent Crabbe but shook it off quickly. Yeah, you’re right. I’m going to go look for Blaise. If you see him, tell him to stay put til I get back, okay?”

 

Vince nodded and Theodore left the room.

 

 

By the time Harry was back on his feet, potions having restored most of his strength and healed his wounds, Snape was already gone. The older man never stuck around any longer than necessary after these sessions. Whether it was an ingrained survival instinct or he just thought that little of him, Harry didn’t know. Nor did he care.

 

“Draco,” Harry called out softly, “you can come out now.”

 

A shimmering in the far corner caught his eye and Harry smiled as a pale, shaken Draco Malfoy appeared in front of his eyes. “Fuck, Harry. Are you okay?”

 

Harry snorted softly. “You know, I think you’re the first person who’s ever asked me that after seeing what I just went through. Mostly, people tend to be too busy trying not to vomit to really ask me how I’m doing.”

 

Draco, though still a little green around the gills, stepped closer and pulled Harry into a light hug. “I’ll admit that vomiting was, and still is on my mind, but your safety concerns me more. Merlin, Harry, I knew you could take it – you told me so yourself – but seeing it…”

 

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco and rubbed his back soothingly. “It’s alright, I’m fine. I can handle it.”

 

Draco snorted in amusement. “How is it that you’re the one who endures the pain curse for a quarter hour and then ends up comforting me?”

 

“Just lucky I guess,” Harry replied and tilting Draco’s chin up, kissed him on the lips. “So, what do you think?” he asked when the kiss ended. “Could old Tom Riddle endure what I just did?”

 

“Not a chance in hell, Harry,” Draco replied somewhat awed that Harry could be so nonchalant after the pain he had just undertaken. “I don’t think there’s a wizard alive today, other than yourself, that could do that and not lose their mind.”

 

“What makes you so sure I haven’t?” Harry asked and wiggled his eyebrows.

 

 

In the Gryffindor common room, in a secluded corner, Ron and Hermione – with the help of a silencing spell – discussed the revelations that they had been made privy to earlier that day.

 

“I still don’t get it, Hermione,” Ron whispered regardless of the spell. “If something happened to Harry, why wouldn’t he tell us, and why let Malfoy and Snape of all people help him?”

 

“Don’t you see, Ron? What ever happened to Harry must have been awful! He’s probably too embarrassed or ashamed to tell us. If what Professor Dumbledore says is true, then it was only coincidence that Malfoy found him and brought him back to the castle. And we all know that when Malfoy needs help, he goes to Snape,” Hermione concluded.

 

Ron still looked sceptical. “But what could have been so awful that Harry would keep it from us? I mean, he’s stood toe to toe with You-Know-Who and told us all about it. How could anything those slimy Slytherin gits do even come close?”

 

“I have my suspicions, Ron, and if they’re right, then I can see why he wouldn’t want to tell anyone. Ron, Harry is the figure-head for the side of light in this war. If it got out that he had been attacked and beaten by his fellow school mates, people would lose hope. They would begin to believe that the Death Eaters are right, that Harry is just a boy, just an ordinary wizard, and then Voldemort would have even more followers.”

 

Ron flinched at the use of the Dark Lord’s name and Hermione rolled her eyes. “Oh for heaven sake, Ronald! It’s just a name!”

 

“I guess you have a point about what people believe. But I still feel kinda hurt that Harry didn’t tell us.”

 

Hermione sighed. “I do too, but if I was in his shoes, I wouldn’t tell anyone either.”

 

“What do you think happened, ’Mione? What did those nasty bastards do to Harry?”

 

Hermione looked up from where her hands were twisting in her lap, tears shining in her eyes. “I think they may have raped him, Ron.”

 

As the colour drained from Ron’s face, Hermione covered her face with her hands and gave in to the tears that she’d been trying to hold back.

 

 

“Why do you let him do that to you?” Draco asked as he and Harry settled themselves comfortably on the sofa in the Chamber of Secrets. “I mean, you have nothing to prove to Sev, and you already know your limitations with the curse, so why?”

 

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “Snape seems to need it. I can’t say I understand it, but it’s there. He hates it when I lose it at the end, and I kinda get off on that,” Harry chuckled softly, “but I think he’s punishing himself for something.”

 

Punishing himself?” Draco asked. “How is your pain and mental suffering a punishment for him?”

 

“Because it disturbs him more than anything else has ever done. Think about it, Draco, Snape was and is a Death Eater. He’s done unimaginable things in the line of duty, and because of his spy status he still has to participate in those activities even though he abhors them now. Killing Muggles doesn’t phase him, torturing witches and wizards is old hat, but using an unforgivable on the boy who he has sworn to protect? Watching as the pain turns to… something else, it gives him chills. He sees what I could be in those minutes, the darkest aspects of my personality, and it scares the life out of him. He doesn’t know about my family history, or how strong I really am, but he does know that I’m stronger than Voldemort. And he knows that if I were to veer off the path laid down for me that I would be unstoppable.”

 

“And this scares him because…” Draco prompted.

 

“If I went evil, who do you think would be the first person I went after, providing old Voldie was already dead?” Harry asked.

 

“The man who used the Cruciatus on you, Severus,” Draco answered, understanding dawning on him.

 

“Exactly,” Harry replied. “Snape thinks he needs to pay for past sins and I’m the only thing he fears. Subconsciously, he’s making sure that if I do go over to the dark side, he’ll be the first one I kill, thereby paying for his crimes, but also saving himself from having to watch as everyone and everything in my way is destroyed.”

 

Draco nodded his head and turned to look Harry in the eye. “You’ve really given this some thought, haven’t you?”

 

“More than I’d like to admit,” Harry replied softly. “I’d be an excellent Dark Lord if I ever decided to go that route. I mean, I was raised by Muggles who hate me; I’ve seen the worst that they are capable of. I’ve been lied to and betrayed by my mentor, the greatest wizard of the past century. My friends have turned against me time and again for stupid reasons; I’ve killed in self defence and in cold blood. I know how to change a person’s whole belief system in a single second now. I could turn the wizarding world on its ear over night. Think about it, Draco. The Minister of Magic and the Wizengamot run our world, right? Well, I could run them.”

 

Draco grinned and shook his head. “You had me going there for a minute, Harry. I almost believed you were considering it.”

 

Harry grinned back. “Nah, politics were never my forte. I’m more of a get in your face and tell you off kind of person. Must be the Gryffindor in me.”

 

“And what of the Slytherin in you, Harry? What do you do to satisfy your evil tendencies?” Draco asked with genuine curiosity.

 

Harry laughed. “Well, tonight, I convinced Professor Snape that he enjoyed wearing lacy pink knickers. He’ll have transfigured all of his underwear by now.”

 

Draco’s eyes widened in shock and then he burst out laughing. “Bloody hell, Potter. You’re never boring are you?”

 

Harry smirked. “I don’t think so, but if you start to get bored let me know and I’m sure I can find some way of… entertaining you.”

 

Draco smirked back. “Hmm, I think I feel the beginnings of a yawn coming on.”

 

“Well,” Harry replied as he lowered his lips to Draco’s, “we can’t have that happening. Guess I’ll have to keep your mouth otherwise occupied.”

 

  Top

Original Posting Date: Fri, 17 Sep 2004 21:36:47 -0400 (EDT)

 

I want to fuck you like an animal. I want to feel you from the inside. I want to fuck you like an animal. My whole existence is flawed, you get me closer to god. – Nine Inch Nails

 

Part 17

 

Naked, hard, and not thinking straight, Draco made the biggest mistake he could have made in this situation. As he licked and sucked at Harry’s prick, thoughts of burying himself inside the lovely body splayed before him, he instinctively ran one finger down behind the other boy’s balls and brushed it against his opening. The resulting blast of magic threw him cleanly across the room. The last thing he saw before his eyes rolled back in his head was Harry’s wide, frightened eyes.

 

 

“Draco? Oh, Gods, Draco. I’m sorry, please wake up, I didn’t mean to…” Harry pleaded as he gently shook Draco’s shoulder. “I just, I wasn’t expecting it, you – you’ve never, and… I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry!”

 

Harry bit his bottom lip softly and then picked Draco up from the floor and carried him back to the sofa. After laying him down, he placed his hand gently on Draco’s forehead and whispered, “Enervate.”

 

Draco’s eyes slowly blinked open and he looked up at Harry in confusion. “Harry?”

 

“I’m so sorry, Draco. I didn’t mean to, are you ok? Are you hurt anywhere?” Harry’s babbling would have likely continued but Draco held up a hand to stop him.

 

“What happened? Last thing I remember I was sucking you off and then… Oh.” Draco nodded to himself in realization.

 

Harry looked down in dejection. “I really didn’t mean to, I just wasn’t expecting it. I guess I’m still not ready to be touched that way.”

 

Draco sat up and lifted Harry’s chin. He looked him in the eye and smiled softly. “It’s alright, Harry. It was my fault; I should have thought of that. I promise, next time, I’ll ask first.”

 

“N-Next time?” Harry stuttered in apprehension.

 

“Not any time soon, Harry. I don’t think my head could take another bump right now,” Draco replied, trying to lighten the mood.

 

Harry’s face took on a look of sorrow that made Draco felt like crap. “Hey, none of that now, I was trying to make you feel better, not worse. C’mere.”

 

Draco pulled Harry into his arms and they curled up together – still naked – on the chesterfield. Many minutes passed in silence as they lay together but eventually Harry sighed and broke the mood. “I guess we might as well get dressed, it’s a bit chilly down here and I’ve obviously spoiled the mood tonight. Then again, head trauma will do that to a person.”

 

Draco chuckled and shook his head. He pressed a quick kiss to Harry’s lips and sat up. “It is getting rather nippy; I think my bollocks have retreated to warmer climates.” Harry laughed and made a point of looking. Draco gave him an indignant look and slipped on his boxers before searching out and putting on the rest of his clothes.

 

Once dressed, the two boys made their way back up to Myrtle’s bathroom where Draco pulled Harry into his arms once more and kissed him. Their embrace was cut short by a loud wail followed by a splash as Myrtle, unhappy with seeing *her* Harry in the arms of another, fled to the safety of her toilet.

 

“We better get out of here before she floods the place,” Harry whispered to Draco and then stepped away, pulling him out of the room by the hand.

 

“Come down to the dungeons with me. It’s late and Zabini, Nott and Crabbe should be sleeping. We could play with them a bit.”

 

Harry grinned, his earlier feelings of guilt all but vanishing with the prospect of revenge. “Yeah, that sounds like a plan.”

 

 

“Did you get the map?” Hermione asked as Ron came back down the stairs from the boy’s dorm.

 

“Yeah, but he must’ve taken the cloak – it wasn’t there,” Ron answered. “Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, what if Filch catches us?”

 

Hermione huffed in agitation. “We need to know what’s going on, besides, Professor Dumbledore practically gave us permission. He said that Harry needed us, and as his best friends we had a responsibility to him to find out what was wrong so that we could help him. We’re doing this!”

 

Ron held his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright. Sheesh.” Opening the map he tapped it with his wand and muttered: “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

 

As the map appeared Hermione looked over Ron’s shoulder; she didn’t see Harry anywhere, then suddenly his name appeared in Myrtle’s bathroom and right after Harry’s name, Malfoy’s appeared as well. “Hmm, well, at least we know what he’s been doing.”

 

Ron turned a bit green and grimaced. “Thanks ever so for that lovely image. I might have to stick my wand in my ear and perform a Scourgify on my brain now.”

 

Hermione giggled and shook her head. “Honestly, Ron, grow up. Come on, they’re leaving. If we hurry we can follow them.”

 

Slipping quietly from the room, the two Gryffindors stealthily made their way toward the dungeons and Harry and Draco.

 

 

Slipping into the Slytherin dorms, both Harry and Draco were surprised to see Blaise’s bed empty.

 

“He wasn’t in any classes today,” Draco whispered. “I just assumed he was hiding from you.”

 

“Maybe he went back to his Master,” Harry replied. “No big deal, I’ll just play with Crabbe and Nott instead.”

 

“Do you have any ideas on what you’ll do to them, yet?”

 

“Nope. I thought I’d troll through their minds first, see what they’re afraid of and use it to my advantage,” Harry replied with an almost evil look on his face.

 

“How very Slytherin of you,” Draco purred and put his arms around Harry. “I’m incredibly turned on right now.”

 

Harry chuckled and kissed him lightly. “Torture really *does* do it for you. I was only kidding when I said that, you know.”

 

“Mmm, but you do evil so well, it makes me hot watching you.”

 

“Then let’s get on with it,” Harry said as he stepped out of the embrace. “Watch the door for me?”

 

“Of course,” Draco answered as Harry made his way toward Crabbe’s bed.

 

 

“Damn,” Hermione whispered as the stone wall slid back into place behind Harry as he followed Draco into the Slytherin common room. “We missed them.”

 

“Well, it’s not like we could have gone inside after them, Herm,” Ron answered. “So now what?”

 

“Now we wait,” Hermione said.

 

“For what?”

 

“For Harry to come back out of course. We’ll follow him and see what he’s doing.” Hermione leaned against the wall and crossed her arms over her chest. Ron just shrugged his shoulders in a ‘whatever’ gesture and settled in to wait.

 

 

When Vincent Crabbe was six years old, his mother’s cousin had taken him to a Muggle Circus to see the wild cats perform. As a child, he had always been fascinated with tigers and leopards and cheetahs, pretty much any wild cat, even lions – much to his father’s dismay.

 

It was at some point after the trapeze artist but before the lion tamer that he first saw them. Clowns. With their outlandishly painted faces and funny clothes, their huge feet and large red noses. He had been at once terrified and had begged his cousin to take him home. She had simply laughed at him and told him there was nothing to fear, that they were just silly Muggles in costume, but Vincent didn’t care. He was afraid and he wanted his father. He wanted to go home.

 

The clowns, seeing the upset little boy, came closer and began to act funny, trying to make him laugh. They made him balloon animals, juggled balls, even squirted each other with their lapel flowers. Nothing worked.

 

Like most wizard children, when he was afraid, Vincent would cause things to happen without meaning to. He only wanted the clowns to go away. He hadn’t meant to hurt them. He could still hear the awful screams they made as they writhed on the ground before him, their happily painted faces a mockery of the pain they were feeling.

 

His cousin had taken him home then, and his father had told him he’d done well, that they were only Muggles after all and if they had scared him they deserved to suffer. He never did get to see the wild cats.

 

To this day, he was still terrified of clowns.

 

Something that Harry had just discovered to his great pleasure. Oh yes, he would have fun with this.

 

 

“Severus,” the low voice called out to him, “I am disappointed.”

 

Crawling forward on hands and knees, Snape made his way to the dais and kissed the hem of his Lord’s robe with reverence. “My Lord, I don’t know what it is that I have done to displease you, but if you’d only tell me I promise to make up for my error.”

 

Long cool fingers carded through his hair, nails raking his scalp just bordering on painful and then a sharp tug as the hand in his hair closed into a fist and pulled. Snape kept his eyes closed as his face was lifted, he did not dare to look upon his Master without permission.

 

“You are weak, Severus. You cower like a child, afraid to face that which you have created.”

 

Trembling, Snape shook his head. “No, my Lord. I did not, I would not…”

 

“But you did, Severus. Open your eyes, look upon your creation.”

 

Snape wanted to run, he didn’t want to look but he knew he had no choice. Slowly he opened his eyes.

 

Blood-filled green eyes bore into his own and he felt the urge to scream as panic began to claw it’s way up his throat. “No. No, no, no, nonononononononono!”

 

Snape’s cries of fear and denial were drowned out as the man before him opened his mouth and began to laugh. It was that same high pitched hysterical laugh he always produced while under the effects of the Cruciatus.

 

Closing his eyes and clamping his hands over his ears, Severus began to scream.

 

And then bolted upright in his bed, covered in a sheen of cold sweat. “Fucking hell.”

 

 

Nott was buried beneath his blankets; it was always cold in the dungeons and Nott was an especially skinny boy, so he felt it worse than most. Draco had to cover his mouth with his hand to hide his amusement at Harry’s impatience at uncovering the boy. In the end, Harry simply tore the blankets back and Nott blinked his eyes open in sleepy confusion.

 

“Wha…” Nott fell silent as he realized who was standing over him.

 

“Hello, Theodore. Did you miss me?” Harry asked as he smirked at the fearful boy on the bed before him.

 

Nott shook his head and Harry pouted. “Really? Not even a teensy little bit?”

 

At Nott’s more vigorous shake, Harry sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “Oh well, doesn’t really matter. I mean, it would have nice, but it won’t affect my plans any. Do you have anything you’d like to say before I begin?”

 

“Wh-why?” Nott stuttered.

 

“I told you before that it wasn’t over, that I would make you suffer in ways you couldn’t imagine. I’ve come to pay you back, Theodore. Are you ready to feel pain?” Harry asked.

 

Before the terrified boy could open his mouth to reply, he was bound to his bed-posts, gagged, and naked. “Are you afraid? Is your heart racing? You’re stomach clenching? Do you feel light headed with anxiety? Is your mind providing you with worst case scenarios?” Harry asked conversationally. “Tell me, what is your worst fear right now, what do you think I’m going to do to you?”

 

Harry delved into Nott’s mind, watching as scenario after scenario played out in front of him. Everything from a bastardized recreation of Harry’s own attack, to being flayed alive and left to die slowly and painfully. It gave Harry ideas.

 

“I’m not going to rape you, Theodore; I wouldn’t dirty my cock with the likes of you. But the cutting has merit, I think I might enjoy that.” Harry snapped his fingers and in his hand appeared an elegant silver blade. He studied it closely for a moment and then placed the tip gently in the hollow of the bound boy’s throat. “I could kill you right now, very easily. In fact, I think that I might.”

 

Harry used his new skill to make Nott think that he had pushed the dagger into his throat. The terrified boy’s eyes widened in pain as a muffled scream tore from his gagged mouth. “Oh, did that hurt? Well, lets try something else then.”

 

Harry continued to play his little game with Theodore, making him think some injuries while actually inflicting others. He had carved a mocking Dark Mark into the boy’s left arm and the words “To Voldie, all my hatred, Harry” above it.

 

Harry would have continued but it was getting late. Sighing in regret, he put Nott to sleep with a spell, making sure to put the same restrictions on him that he had on Zabini and Crabbe. He would not be able to tell anyone what had happened to him.

 

Leaving the boy naked and uncovered, Harry did away with the binds and the gag before walking over to his lover and wrapping him in his arms. He chuckled softly when Draco ground his erection onto his hip. “You’re a sick bastard, Malfoy.”

 

“Yeah, but apparently I’m *your* sick bastard. So what does that make you?” He asked.

 

“Very lucky?” Harry questioned.

 

“Damn straight!” Draco replied.

 

Harry snickered. “No, actually, quite the opposite.” Both boys chuckled as they left the room.

 

 

“Shh!” Hermione hushed her boyfriend as the stone wall began to move. Two boys came to a halt in the doorway. Listening intently, she had to strain to hear what was being said.

 

“I’m sorry about before, Draco,” Harry said softly as he leaned in to kiss the blonde. “I didn’t mean to blow up at you like that.”

 

“I know, Harry. It’s okay,” Draco responded, trying to make Harry feel better.

 

“No, it’s not okay!” Harry whispered harshly. “They took that away from me, Draco. Thanks to them, I can’t even have a normal sexual relationship anymore. I hate it, and I hate them for what they did to me!”

 

Draco wrapped his arms around Harry and held him. “I know, Harry. I hate it too, but they are paying for what they’ve done. They will continue to pay, and I promise, I’ll wait until you’re ready before I touch you like that again.”

 

Harry nodded and Draco lifted his chin to kiss him deeply before drawing away. “You’d better go. Snape tends to wander the halls at night and I don’t want you in trouble.” Harry nodded again, pulled his cloak around him and vanished. Hermione waited until Draco had gone back inside and the stone door had closed before stepping out of the shadows, Ron right behind her.

 

“Oh, god, Ron. I was right. For once in my life I wish I’d been wrong.” Hermione turned and buried her head in Ron’s chest. Ron, for his part, just held her close. All the while, however, he was forming a plan. A plan to find out who and why, and then how and when to make them pay.

 

 

At the end of the hallway, Harry stopped and turned back. His eyes narrowed in anger as he spotted his two best friends. Supposed best friends anyway. They had been following him; he could see the Marauder’s Map in Ron’s hand. He did not like having his privacy invaded. They would have to be taught a lesson.

 

  Top

Original Posting Date: Mon, 27 Sep 2004 20:43:22 -0400 (EDT)

 

You were everything, everything that I wanted. We were meant to be, supposed to be, but we lost it. And all of our memories, so close to me, just fade away. All this time you were pretending. So much for my happy ending - Avril Lavigne

 

Part 18

 

Coming around the corner, Ginny Weasley stopped dead in her tracks, her hand quickly covering her mouth to contain the horrified shriek that was clawing its way up from her throat.

 

Harry, *her* Harry, was kissing Draco Malfoy in the alcove just a few feet in front of her. She closed her eyes and prayed that when she opened them she wouldn’t see it anymore, that it was all just some horrible hallucination left over from the potions she taken at the Ravenclaw party the weekend before.

 

Unfortunately, when she opened them the scenery had only gotten worse.

 

Whereas before Harry and Malfoy were only kissing, now Draco had his hands on Harry’s arse, Harry had one of his thighs thrust between Draco’s, and the two of them were grinding against one another as they continued to kiss with more and more passion.

 

Unable to watch any longer, Ginny turned and fled back to Gryffindor tower. All her hopes and dreams of a life with Harry, something she had been fantasizing about since she first met him when she was only ten years old, were shattering all around her. She barely managed to close and spell the curtains on her bed before the pain became too much and she wailed out all her anger, misery and loss.

 

 

Pulling away from Draco, Harry shook his head and grinned. “Probably not the best place to be doing that,” he said, his eyes full of regret.

 

“Gee, you think?” Draco answered, taking Harry’s hand and pulling him toward the boys’ bathroom.

 

“Er, where are we going? The Great Hall is that way,” Harry said as he pointed in the opposite direction of where they were headed.

 

Draco shot him a scathing look. “Yes, but if you think I’m going to breakfast with a hard-on, you have another think coming, Potter. I’ve been wanting you since last night.”

 

Harry chuckled. “Alright, Malfoy. But I refuse to shag you in the loo.”

 

Draco growled and spun to glare at Harry. “Then where do you suppose we go then? We don’t have a lot of time, you know.”

 

Harry smirked at him. “Follow me,” he whispered and turned the corner heading for the secret room the twins had shown him back in his fifth year.

 

Draco followed and snorted softly to himself as Harry placed his palm on the stone wall and a door magically appeared. “Do you know *all* the secrets of the school, Potter?”

 

“Dunno,” Harry replied as he pulled Draco into the room and closed the door behind them. “But I know enough of them. Now, where were we?” he asked as he pressed his blond lover against the wall and captured his lips.

 

 

Albus Dumbledore stood at the head table and waited as the laughter and conversation of the students died down as one by one they noticed his sorrowful expression. When at last the Hall was quiet, he spoke.

 

“Students, it is with a heavy heart that I stand before each of you this morning. Some may have noticed the disappearance of one of our students, some may not have. I regret to inform you that seventh year student, Blaise Zabini, was found early this morning in the lower dungeons by caretaker Argus Filch. He was dead when Mister Filch found him, and it has since been discovered that the cause of his death was the killing curse.” Shocked gasps filled the room and several students had tears in their eyes; mostly the younger Slytherins.

 

Dumbledore shook his head sadly and raised his hands for silence. “Now, before anyone comes to the wrong conclusion, a Priori Incantatum was performed on Mister Zabini’s wand that revealed the killing curse. Mister Zabini was not murdered; he took his own life.” Again there was a murmur of voices and gasps from the students. A fifth year Slytherin girl burst into tears and the girl sitting next to her led her from the room. Dumbledore watched them go with sadness in his eyes.

 

“I cannot express to you my great sadness at this most unfortunate incident. Some of you, at one point or another, may feel as though the problems in your life are so overwhelming that death is the only alternative. I am here to tell you that that is not so. The professors here at Hogwarts, as well as myself, are always available to you should you need guidance. Please, if you need to speak with someone, if you are having problems, talk to one of us or at least one of your friends.”

 

“The Ministry of Magic will be sending out grief counsellors to visit Hogwarts today and for the rest of the week. If anyone wishes to speak with them, please make an appointment through Madame Pomfrey. That is all.”

 

Dumbledore resumed his seat with a heartfelt sigh. It had been many years since he’d lost a student in such a fashion and he couldn’t help but think he’d failed the young man in some way. As he was pondering where he may have gone wrong, Harry Potter strolled into the Hall. He took one look into those green eyes and knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that somehow, Harry was involved in what had caused young Mister Zabini to take his own life. And by the look on Harry’s face, Harry now knew that he had figured it out.

 

For the second time in his life, for the second time in a week, Albus Dumbledore knew fear.

 

 

Joining his friends at the Slytherin table, Draco looked across the hall and watched as Potter sat with his friends but ignored them completely. He looked from where Harry was sitting to where he was looking and with a startled gasp quickly looked away lest anyone else notice what he had just seen.

 

Albus Dumbledore sat at the head table, his eyes glassy and his face blank. Across the hall, near the far end of the Gryffindor table, Harry Potter stared straight into the glazed-over eyes of his Headmaster as he viciously raped the man’s mind.

 

Draco wondered what had happened to cause this, what possible information Dumbledore could have found to make Harry attack him in such a way. It was only as he looked to his own table-mates that he realized something was amiss.

 

“What the hell did I miss this morning?” Draco leaned over and whispered to Pansy.

 

“Zabini was found dead, suicide by AK.” Pansy replied.

 

Draco blinked. “Oh,” was his intelligent response.

 

‘Well, that would explain a few things,’ Draco thought to himself. ‘If Dumbledore put two and two together and came up with Zabini’s involvement in what happened to Harry, then he would surely assume - and rightfully so - that it was fear of retribution from Harry that scared Blaise enough to kill himself. That,’ he mused as he picked up his spoon and stirred absently at his porridge, ‘or the fear of what Voldemort would do to him for failing to bring me into the fold.’

 

 

It was a split-second decision on Harry’s part, but not one he regretted. From the moment he walked into the Hall, he knew that Dumbledore had figured it out. How he knew, Harry wasn’t sure, but he would find out.

 

Locking eyes with his former mentor, Harry made his way to his seat at the end of the table and as he sipped at his pumpkin juice, he slipped into the Headmaster’s mind. ‘Yes,’ Harry thought, ‘there it is. The realization that Zabini was involved in my attack, and the suspicion that I doled out my own retribution.’ Wondering what other things the Headmaster might have figured out, Harry settled in and began going through the old man’s memories.

 

The farther back he went, the angrier he got. Years of lies, half-truths and betrayals were hidden behind those twinkling blue eyes. Mistakes upon mistakes that had cost Harry dearly. Mistakes that had cost him his parents, his childhood, his very freedom from the Dark Lord, Voldemort.

 

He could see it all now, James and Lily Potter sitting in the Headmaster’s office as he explained to them that they would be safe in Godric’s Hollow, no matter that Lily had made plans to raise Harry in the Muggle world, in the States, where he’d be far away from Voldemort and his followers. A young Sirius Black nodding his head and believing he was doing the right thing in asking his good friend Peter to take his place in becoming the Potter’s secret keeper, because after all, as Dumbledore put it, who would suspect Peter? Arthur and Molly Weasley asking him if perhaps, it wasn’t better to leave Harry with a good wizarding family rather than those awful Muggles just hours after his return from leaving Harry on the Dursleys’ doorstep. Almost the exact same conversation eleven years later after the Weasley twins, with Ron, had come to break him out of his bedroom. Hiring Professor Quirrel, and then Barty Crouch Jr. The Triwizard tournament, where Harry had unintentionally played right into Voldemort’s hands by taking the cup. All these things, Harry now knew, were not coincidence. Each time Voldemort managed to get to him was carefully planned out, allowing Harry the chance to fulfill his destiny and kill Tom Riddle. There were no accidents, only manipulations. Every time he faced Voldemort it was a test. A test of his strength, and of the Dark Lord’s. If Harry had defeated Voldemort sooner, Dumbledore would have never told him the truth about his family or his power. He would never have known that his mum wasn’t a Muggle-born, or that he was descended from Merlin.

 

Taking a moment to make sure that Dumbledore wouldn’t remember anything about his connection to Zabini, Harry slipped out of the Headmaster’s mind and rose from the table. He looked back as Ron called out to him and reminded himself that he still owed him and Hermione for following him, even if they were - now that he knew - only doing what Dumbledore told them to. They were supposed to be his friends, and as his friends, they should have known not to invade his privacy that way. He had precious little of it as it was.

 

“Not now, Ron. I’ve Potions to get to and you know how Snape is,” Harry replied as he left the Hall. In all reality he just wanted as far away from Dumbledore as humanly possible before he lost it completely and killed the man.

 

 

“You better go see to your boyfriend, Draco,” Pansy whispered as Harry stood abruptly and left the Hall. Draco shot Pansy a look and she smiled. “Please, I’m not stupid.”

 

Draco snorted and shook his head. “Nor am I, Pansy dear. Leaving now would only draw unwanted attention,” Draco replied as his eyes flicked toward the other seventh year students.

 

“Not if I go with you,” Pansy whispered back. Draco nodded and the two got up together and left the Hall.

 

 

Harry was halfway down to the Potions room when he heard Draco’s voice calling out for him to wait. If it were anyone else he would have kept going and used one of the many secret rooms or tunnels to lose them, but he knew that he could tell Draco anything, and that the other boy was not afraid of him. Even when he was angry.

 

“Where’s the fire?” Draco asked as he finally caught up.

 

Harry snorted. “No fire, but maybe there would have been if I’d stayed in the Hall any longer. Fucking *bastard*,” Harry hissed the last two words out between clenched teeth.

 

“What did Dumbledore do that’s got you so upset?” Draco asked.

 

Harry looked at him dumbfounded and Draco snorted. “Please, I saw you looking at him. Besides, he’s the only person I know who could get you this angry. Tell me, Harry.”

 

“I…” Harry started and then stopped as Snape came striding down the hallway from the opposite direction and then turned the corner. “Later, after dinner tonight.”

 

Draco nodded and the two continued on their way to the Potions room, stopping dead in their tracks as they turned the corner and saw Professor Snape. He was… wriggling.

 

Harry looked at Draco and then back to Snape and then to Draco again before clapping his hand over his mouth. Draco seemed to come to the same conclusion at the same time as he snorted indelicately and then covered his mouth as well. The two slowly backed away until they were out of site of the uncomfortable Potions Master before bursting into giggles.

 

“Panties!” Draco gasped as he slid down the wall.

 

“Oh God,” Harry giggled as he dropped down beside him, “I forgot about that.”

 

“How are we ever going to make it through class!” Draco giggled again as he leaned over and rested his head on Harry’s shoulder.

 

Harry rested his head on top of Draco’s and took his glasses off so he could wipe the tears from his eyes. “I don’t know, but that couldn’t have come at a better time. I was way too close to losing it for a while there.”

 

“Want to skive off and go talk?” Draco offered.

 

“Nah, I’ll manage. Come on, let’s go. Besides, this will probably be a very *interesting* lesson. I doubt we want to miss it.” Harry got to his feet and helped Draco to stand, kissing him quickly before heading to class. Draco shook his head, smiled and followed him. If he’d known how much fun it could be to hang out with Harry, he’d have made more of an effort back in first year.

 

 

“Now, I understand that you have requested to remain in your present form, is that correct Mister, er, Miss Goyle?” Albus Dumbledore inquired as he looked at the young lady sitting on the bed in front of him.

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Might I inquire as to why you have made such a request?”

 

Goyle nodded and licked her lips before speaking. “Well, you see, sir, my family has always been dark, and with the war coming and all, I’ll be expected to join the Death Eaters. The Dark Lord doesn’t care for women in his ranks and as long as I’m stuck like this, I won’t be expected to join.”

 

Dumbledore nodded and stroked a hand through his beard. “That makes a good deal of sense. However,” he continued as he stepped closer to the girl, “I am at a loss as to where to put you. You can no longer go back to your own room as you are now female, and with your defection from Voldemort’s side, I fear for your safety should I send you back to Slytherin at all.”

 

Goyle simply nodded and wouldn’t meet the old man’s eyes. Dumbledore shook his head sadly and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I think it would be best if we put you in a private room and removed you from the House structure all together. Would that be acceptable?”

 

Again, Goyle nodded her acceptance, but then timidly spoke up, “What about my classes, sir? I would like to graduate with the rest of my year-mates.”

 

“We will work something out, Gregory, I promise. Now,” the Headmaster clapped his hands and smiled cheerily, “Follow me, and I will show you to your new rooms.”

 

  Top

Original Posting Date: Sun, 3 Oct 2004 20:04:19 -0400 (EDT)

 

What’s wrong, what’s wrong now? Too many, too many problems. Don’t know where she belongs, where she belongs. She wants to go home, but nobody’s home. It’s where she lies, broken inside. With no place to go, no place to go to dry her eyes. Broken inside. – Avril Lavigne

 

Part 19

 

Gregory Goyle looked around his new room and sighed. It was a nice enough room, but it was so… empty. Ever since he’d first come to Hogwarts he’d always shared a room with the other boys. Crabbe, Malfoy, Zabini and Nott had always been there, every year. It was one of the few constants he had in his life, one of the only things that was thrust upon him that he really hadn’t minded. Now he was alone, and while it was preferable to having to join the Dark Lord, it was still lonely.

 

Opening the wardrobe, Goyle sighed again as he looked at his new school uniforms. Skirts, blouses, robes and knee socks. There were even a pair of low-heeled dress shoes.

 

He just had to remind himself that this was *his* choice, and as long as Potter won the war – and didn’t get himself killed – it wasn’t permanent either.

 

But he still wasn’t happy about the loss of his dick.

 

 

“Harry,” Hermione leaned over to whisper in Harry’s ear. “Does something seem, I don’t know, *off* about Professor Snape today?”

 

Harry looked to the front of the room where the Potions Master was sitting at his desk, a scowl on his face, and rearranging himself in his chair every couple of minutes. He allowed himself a brief smile before schooling his features and facing his friend. “He seems fine to me. I suppose if you really want to know if there’s something wrong, you could always follow him around at night,” Harry answered and then returned to his notes, completely ignoring Hermione’s slight gasp.

 

The rest of the class passed in a somewhat strained manner as Harry continued to copy the notes from the board and pretend that he didn’t notice Hermione watching him. He had a plan in mind to pay her and Ron back for being nosey. He just needed to talk to Draco first. If it went off the way he wanted it to, they’d never spy on him again.

 

 

The rest of the day had passed uneventfully and Harry and Draco were now secreted away in their little hide away down in the Chamber of Secrets.

 

“Merlin, Harry! Are you serious?” Draco exclaimed somewhat horrified. “All this time, you’ve trusted the man to look out for you, to guide you, and he’s the reason you’ve lost so much.” Draco shook his head sadly. “My father always said he was a meddling old fool, but I never really gave it much thought.”

 

“I know. When I think of everything he’s cost me…” Harry trailed off as his eyes narrowed in anger. Draco put his arms around Harry but the other boy shrugged him off and began pacing back and forth in the room.

 

“I could have been normal, Draco. I could have been raised as a wizard, in a real home with a family that loved me. I might have had siblings, a little brother or sister, I would have known Sirius my whole life, he wouldn’t have died defending me.” Draco could feel Harry’s power as it filled the room. He only hoped the other boy calmed himself before something happened. Looking up at his lover from where he’d taken a seat on the couch, he doubted that calm was anywhere near Harry’s range of emotions at the moment.

 

“I wouldn’t have this stupid fucking *scar* and be the sodding Boy-Who-Lived!” Harry spat as he stopped and faced his lover. The anger drained away leaving behind hurt and confusion.

 

“Why would he do that, Draco, why? I mean, my parents had a plan – they were going to leave the country; we would have been safe. Instead I grew up with muggles who hated me, who locked me in a cupboard and called me a freak. I don’t understand,” Harry finished softly as Draco pulled him down onto the sofa and held him close.

 

“I don’t know why, Harry. I don’t understand it either but you don’t ever have to see those muggles again, or go back to the muggle world at all if you don’t want to. I’ll teach you everything you need to know about being a wizard, the stuff you should have been taught growing up. You’re not alone in this Harry, you have me, and I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Harry sighed and snuggled into Draco’s arms. “Why aren’t you afraid of me?” he whispered into the blonde’s neck. “You’ve seen what I’m capable of, you know how strong I am, hell, I hurt you without even trying to last night. Why aren’t you scared?”

 

“Because,” Draco said and then dropped a kiss to Harry’s temple. “You’re not a bad man, Harry. You won’t hurt me, I know that as well as I know my own name. Yes, you have power, yes I can feel it coming off you in waves when you get angry, but you have more control than any witch or wizard I’ve ever met. That and you have your Gryffindor morals,” Draco finished with a chuckle.

 

“Dumbledore fears me,” Harry whispered.

 

“And well he should,” Draco replied. “He’s done nothing but manipulate you from day one. He knows his own guilt, and that is what makes him afraid.”

 

Harry looked deep into Draco’s eyes. “I want him dead, Draco. I know I shouldn’t but I do. He’s cost me so much…”

 

“I know, Harry. One thing at a time though, alright? First we get rid of Voldemort, then, if you still feel that you want Dumbledore out of the picture, we’ll figure something out.”

 

Harry sighed and buried his face in Draco’s chest. “I’m considering killing my Headmaster. Does that make me psychotic?”

 

“No, Harry,” Draco tipped Harry’s face up and kissed him. “It makes you human.”

 

 

Things were quiet in the Slytherin seventh-year boys’ dorm. Only two of the original five members of the room were present and neither one was talking. Neither one could. The threats that were made to them – on what would happen if they tried to tell anyone – were weighing heavily on their minds. They weren’t sure if they could talk to one another about it and neither one wanted to run the risk to find out.

 

Blaise Zabini’s bed had been stripped bare earlier that day, his trunk was gone and all of his belongings with it. The curtains were open and tied back to the bed-posts, looking for all the world as though it had never been occupied.

 

Vincent Crabbe closed his eyes and tried not to remember the first time they’d met, how an eleven-year-old Blaise Zabini had jumped up and down on his bed laughing – until an unimpressed Draco Malfoy had hexed him and told him to stop acting like a bloody idiot and behave like a Slytherin.

 

It had been the beginning of their rivalry, friendly as it was. Malfoy wanted to rule the school, and Zabini wanted to be Malfoy. It was why he had been so eager to take his place at Voldemort’s side, why he had gone after Potter with a vengeance, why he was now dead and would never amount to anything. He’d behaved the way he thought a Slytherin should, he’d allied himself with power. Only problem was, Malfoy was a better Slytherin – he always had been – and he allied himself with the more powerful of the two wizards at war: Harry Potter.

 

If he hadn’t seen firsthand what Potter was capable of, he would have never believed it possible. But he had seen the power the Gryffindor possessed, he had felt it. It wasn’t anything like he expected. Light wizards were supposed to be all good and pure, saving the world for peace and love and fluffy little puppies. Potter was *not* light. He was as dark as the depths of hell.

 

And yeah, maybe they deserved it after what they’d done, but it didn’t make it any easier to deal with. The saviour of the wizard world, the honourable Gryffindor, the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Torture-His-Enemies was more powerful than the Dark Lord, had a Malfoy at his side, and pure unadulterated hatred running through his veins. In short, as far as Vincent was concerned, the world – and everyone in it – was in *big* trouble.

 

 

“Ginny,” Becky Wood called through the closed bed-curtains. “Ginny, what’s wrong?”

 

Inside the locked curtains, Ginny Weasley lay staring at the ceiling while her roommate grew more and more frustrated. She didn’t care, nothing mattered anymore. Harry was never going to be hers. Not as long as Malfoy was around. And without Harry, Ginny wanted to die.

 

“Virginia Weasley! If you don’t open those curtains and tell me what’s wrong, right this minute, I’ll set them on fire!”

 

Ginny almost smiled at that. Becky was a good friend, and she understood what it was like to be the only girl in a family of boys, but she would never understand how Ginny felt about Harry. How could she? No one could understand what it was like to be rescued by your very own knight in shining armour. Harry had risked his life for her, had saved her from not only Tom Riddle but a sixty foot Basilisk as well. He had almost died and all he had cared about was that she, Ginny, would be alright. If that wasn’t love, she didn’t know what it was.

 

And now he was involved with none other than Draco Malfoy.

 

“Go away, Becky,” Ginny called out. “Just leave me alone.”

 

“Fine!” was called out from the other side of the curtain. “But if you don’t come out for breakfast tomorrow, I’m going to McGonagall!”

 

Ginny just rolled her eyes and went back to staring at the ceiling. What did she care if Becky went to their Head of House? What could old McGonagall possibly do anyway? There was no cure for a broken heart, and that was exactly what Ginny had. “Bloody Malfoy!” Ginny whispered angrily. “If it wasn’t for him, Harry would be mine.”

 

Realizing what she had just said, a slow smile spread across Ginny’s face. If Malfoy wasn’t in the picture then she would still stand a chance. Now, all she had to do was get rid of Malfoy.

 

 

Draco ran his fingers through Harry’s hair as he watched the other boy sleep. It still amazed him that Harry Potter was nothing like the boy he’d always thought he was. He wasn’t the arrogant, sure of himself, hero of the world. He didn’t think he was better than everyone one else because of his scar, he wasn’t treated like royalty by the muggles who raised him, and most importantly, he wasn’t above listening to another’s point of view. He was, in short, amazing.

 

“How is it that I’ve seen you nearly every day for almost seven years and I didn’t know anything about you until I found you in the locker room?” Draco whispered as he looked at the peaceful expression on his lover’s face. An expression he didn’t see nearly enough of, and never when Harry was awake. “All those years, wasted. And you were right there in front of me the whole time.”

 

The last week had been quite the eye opener for the blonde. Before Harry, he had no idea what he was going to do when school let out, no prospects for his future what so ever. He couldn’t go home unless he was willing to submit himself to Voldemort, he couldn’t get a job at the Ministry without his father’s influence, he had no one he could turn to and no where he could go. His only salvation would have been to exchange as much money as he could at Gringott’s and try to make his way in the muggle world until the war was over. Needless to say it wasn’t a very appealing plan.

 

Now though, now he had Harry, he had an ally against the Dark Lord, someone who would protect him from Voldemort and his minions, and as much as the idea of needing protection irked him, he knew it was necessary. He was a Malfoy, the only heir to the Malfoy fortune and as such the Dark Lord would not let him simply slip away. No, he would be forced to submit, under Imperius if necessary, until he was no longer useful or until he had at the very least signed away his inheritance to the cause.

 

Harry Potter was a powerful wizard but strangely enough, it was his weakness that drew Draco in. That vulnerable side that he kept hidden from the world, the one that few people ever saw, the one that he showed to him when he broke down in tears in his arms. That was what Draco found himself thinking about that first night, and every night since. Harry Potter was a person, just like he was. They really were no different.

 

Draco was Slytherin to the core and as such would admit that having power would always be his goal in life. He didn’t want to rule the world, but he did want to have a say in how it was run. Harry had the potential to rule, and Draco was damn well going to be by his side when he did. Together, they would remake the wizarding world. They would bring back the traditions of old, make people remember what it means to be a wizard. Mudbloods would be screened before being allowed entrance to their world. Hogwarts would be exclusive to only those born in the wizard world. The purebloods would grow strong again, and Draco would be the one leading them. All he had to do was make sure Harry understood the logic behind the changes that needed to be made.

 

“I see you now, Harry. I see who and what you really are, and I like who I see. You and I can do great things together, Harry Potter, we can change the world. We *will* change the world. We’ll make it better.”

 

In his sleep, Harry smiled and snuggled closer to the warm body beneath him as the arms holding him squeezed just a little bit tighter.

 

 

Voldemort was angry.

 

Actually, angry would be putting it mildly. He was livid. Not only had his plans to bring young Malfoy into the fold failed spectacularly, but now his young protègè, Zabini, was dead. He had no proof but he knew, he just *knew* that Harry Potter was involved somehow.

 

He would call a meeting. Bring his spy before him and demand answers. ‘Yes,’ he thought, ‘that would suffice for now.’

 

 

It was late and Severus was just getting ready for bed when the Mark on his arm began to burn. Muttering under his breath, he made his way out to his living room and made a fire-call to the Headmaster.

 

“Severus?” the old man asked. “What has you up so late?”

 

“I’ve been summoned. I will let you know why when I return.”

 

Dumbledore sighed and shook his head sadly. “Be careful, my boy. He is never in a good mood when he calls this late at night.”

 

Snape gave the headmaster a scathing glare. “You don’t say?”

 

Albus chuckled softly. “Be well, Severus. Contact me when you get in.”

 

The dark-haired man nodded once and climbed to his feet. He made his way out of his rooms and through the castle until he was outside the wards, then Apparated to Voldemort’s throne room.

 

 

In the Gryffindor seventh-year boys’ dorm, Neville Longbottom sat in the window looking out at the night sky. He knew that things were coming to an end. School was almost over and with graduation came the loss of their innocence. He knew that Voldemort was only waiting until Harry no longer had the protection of Hogwarts or his muggle relatives before attacking. There was no way that Harry was going to go back to Surrey after graduation, not that Neville blamed him; if he had been raised by people like that he wouldn’t go back either. It made him grateful for his grandmother. Who knew what might have happened to him had she not taken him in?

 

His talk with Harry had gone a long way to easing his fears about Pansy, but he was still worried. He’d be stupid if he wasn’t. He trusted Harry to keep Pansy safe, that went without question. No, it was Harry that Neville was worried about. He’d changed a lot since that night in the Ministry, like he’d lost a part of himself that he’d never get back. The others had seen it too, at first, but Harry got better at hiding it and the rest got used to his new attitude and didn’t question it anymore. It was as if they wanted everything to be okay so badly they just ignored all the signs that showed it wasn’t.

 

Neville knew what it was to pretend everything was fine while the world fell apart all around you. He’d been doing it for years, after all. Every time he went to visit with his parents, every time his mother would look at him for just a split second like she knew who he was and then faded back out again, he died a little inside. He’d learned early on how to hide it though; his grandmother had threatened to stop taking him to see her if it was going to upset him so much.

 

In a way, he and Harry shared something that no one else could ever understand. While Harry’s parents were dead, he had proof that they knew who he was and that they had loved him; enough to die for him. Neville, on his worst days, envied that; his parents were never going to get better. He would never have proof that they loved him because they didn’t know who he was.

 

He hated himself for thinking so selfishly, but he couldn’t help it. He just wanted to know what it would feel like to have his mother hold him in her arms, to hear his father tell him he was growing into a fine man and that he was proud of him. He and Harry had talked about it one night when everyone else was asleep. How in a perfect world they would have had their parents, would have known one another since they were infants, maybe even been the best of friends before attending Hogwarts.

 

Harry had told him how he used to lay awake at night in his cupboard imagining how his life would have been had his parents lived. How his mum would always have the radio on in the kitchen while she cooked and how his dad would take him to the park and teach him to catch a ball and ride a bike. That he pictured them living in a beautiful house in the country with a huge backyard and that he’d have a dog named Sparky and a cat named Mittens. That his parents would tuck him into bed at night and read him stories and kiss him on the forehead. And when he woke with bad dreams he would crawl into their bed and they’d welcome him with open arms.

 

Neville had almost cried at the wistful expression on Harry’s face as he told him this. It made him feel almost ungrateful for what he did have. But then Harry had looked at him and shrugged his shoulders and told him that things could have been worse than growing up with the Dursleys and that he was lucky that they had taken him in when they certainly didn’t have to. Not knowing what to say to that, Neville had just nodded dumbly and Harry got up and went to bed. Since that night, Neville had a deeper understanding of Harry Potter, the boy – not the saviour of wizard-kind.

 

But now things were happening that needed to be thought about. Blaise Zabini was dead, and according to Pansy, Slytherin House was in chaos. Some believed it wasn’t suicide and that Harry Potter had killed Zabini and the Headmaster was covering it up. Greg Goyle had been missing from the dorms and no one knew where he was – Neville explained the whole sex change thing to Pansy when she’d mentioned it to him – and Crabbe and Nott were unusually quiet and solitary.

 

Neville was no Seer; Divination had never been his strong suit, but he could see that things were coming to a head. Bad things were going to happen very soon. He only hoped that they’d be ready for them when they arrived.

 

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Original Posting Date: Tue, 19 Oct 2004 12:31:54 -0400 (EDT)

 

I could stay awake just to hear you breathing. Watch you smile while you are sleeping, while you are far away and dreaming. I could spend my life in this sweet surrender. I could stay lost in this moment forever. Where a moment spent with you is a moment I treasure. – Aerosmith

 

Part 20

 

Draco woke feeling stiff, sore, sweaty and trapped. He slowly opened his eyes and looked down to see that Harry was sprawled on top of him, his head resting on his chest, both arms wrapped tightly around him and his legs entwined with his own. It was clear now, the reason he couldn’t move.

 

He closed his eyes, knowing that Harry needed the sleep and somewhat enjoying the restrictive feeling of being completely surrounded by Harry Potter. He wondered why his lover was clinging to him so tightly, perhaps he’d had another nightmare, or in his sleep he was afraid Draco would try to get up, to leave him. Harry needn’t worry about that, Draco had already decided that he wasn’t going anywhere. As long as Harry wanted him, he would stay by his side. He had big plans for their future, and not just the political kind.

 

Yes, he wanted to change the world as they knew it, but he had his own personal agenda as well. With no betrothal hanging over his head, the threat of Voldemort all but extinguished, and his father in prison, he was free to do as he pleased for possibly the first time in his life. He had his entire future ahead of him and he planned to spend it with Harry Potter. He wanted Harry more than anyone he’d ever known, and not Harry Potter boy-hero, no, he wanted the young man who was currently sleeping wrapped around him. The young man with the brilliant smile, the blushing cheeks, the insecurities and fears of inadequacy. It was the innocence of the boy that called to him on a personal level. Yes the power of the man was intoxicating and appealed to him greatly, but that was on a whole other level. Potter’s power and thirst for revenge got him hot, he would admit that whole heartedly, but it was his soft heart and the way he smiled so shyly at times that made Draco care for him. Possibly even love him.

 

“Do I love you?” Draco whispered as he looked at the sleeping face of his lover. “Have I fallen that far so soon? I think I may have, Harry, and it scares me to death. I’m a Malfoy after all. Love is a weakness to be avoided at all costs – at least, that was what my father taught me. Then again, he always said you were a weak-minded fool and the Dark Lord would kill you.” Draco chuckled softly, “I wonder what he’d say if he knew we were here together? Would he disown me for loving you, or would he realize he had chosen wrongly, that Voldemort was not the power he claimed to be? Would he be proud of me for allying myself with such a strong wizard or would he see through that ruse and know what I know; that I love you for the man you are, and not the power you hold. That’s right, Harry. I figured it out, I do love you.”

 

With a soft smile, Draco brushed his lips across Harry’s forehead and petted his hair softly as he closed his eyes and just enjoyed holding Harry as he slept.

 

 

Slipping quietly from her room, Ginny Weasley made her way up to the owlery. It was very early, far too early for any of the students to be awake and perhaps even too early for the staff. But Ginny was on a mission, a mission to get Draco Malfoy out of Harry’s life and leave the path clear for them to be together. She would be Mrs. Ginevra Potter, no matter what it took.

 

When she got to the owlery, she slid the note from her pocket and smiled to herself. It was perfect. She would send it to Mrs. Malfoy anonymously, filling her in on her son’s relationship with Harry and let her deal with it as she saw fit. No doubt Draco would be threatened with being disowned, and Ginny knew that given the choice between the Malfoy millions and Harry Potter, Draco would take the money.

 

Harry would be hurt, possibly heartbroken over it, and that’s when Ginny would step in to offer him comfort. A shoulder to cry on, a sympathetic ear to listen. And if, during this time, she managed to get Harry into bed – and take the fertility potion – she just knew that Harry would do right by her. It was almost too easy.

 

With a malicious grin on her face, Ginny attached the note to one of the school owls and told it where to go. She watched as it flew away until it was no more than a speck in the distance of the early morning light before heading back to Gryffindor. By this time next year, she would have everything she ever wanted.

 

 

“Harry,” a gentle voice whispered in his ear and Harry stirred lightly. “Harry, it’s time to wake up,” the voice repeated.

 

Harry mumbled incoherently and blinked. “Draco?” he asked sleepily.

 

“You were expecting someone else?” the Slytherin inquired. Harry just shook his head and snuggled back into the arms still holding him.

 

“Don’t wanna move,” he muttered. “M’comfy.”

 

Draco chuckled softly. “As much as I enjoy cuddling with you – and if you tell *anyone* I said that I’ll deny it and then hex you – we do need to be getting out of here. It’s an hour until breakfast and we both need to shower and change clothes.”

 

Harry groaned but sat up. “I hate this. I don’t even know why I’m still attending classes. I could pass my NEWTS today if I took them, hell, I could have passed them last year. I just want to stay down here, with you, and never see anyone else ever again.”

 

As flattered as Draco was to be included in Harry’s plans, he wasn’t one to shy away from the public eye. “As nice as all that alone time with you would be, we need to go to class. We need to be seen in the school, carrying on as usual, and keeping suspicions down.” Draco gently kissed Harry on the mouth and then smiled at him. “Once Voldemort is gone, we can do whatever we bloody well please. We’ll graduate from Hogwarts and lock ourselves away for a month somewhere and never leave the bedroom, but right now, we need to go.”

 

Harry smiled. “In that case, I might just skip classes today and go hunt the fucker down and be done with it. I mean, a whole month in bed with you? Quite the incentive there.”

 

“If I’d known that was all it would take, I’d have offered sooner.” Draco replied. “Seriously, Harry, we have to go. I refuse to go to class without bathing.” Draco wrinkled his nose.

 

Harry nodded and together they made their way out of the chamber and up to Myrtle’s bathroom.

 

 

Stumbling through the front doors, Severus was glad that it was still early enough that he wouldn’t run the risk of any of the students seeing him in this condition.

 

His summoning had gone pretty much as he’d expected. The Dark Lord was beyond livid at the Zabini situation; he had demanded answers from him. Answers he didn’t have. And so he’d paid the price for his ignorance, with pain.

 

Oh, he had his suspicions; after all, it only made sense to assume Potter was behind Zabini’s suicide. For all of his intolerance concerning the boy, Snape knew that he was a force to be reckoned with. It was lucky for him, in a way, that Potter pretty much expected him to treat him like crap, otherwise he might have to worry about retribution as well. He would much rather go ten rounds of Crucio with Voldemort than be at the tender mercies of a vengeful Harry Potter.

 

He had almost made it to the staircase leading to the dungeons when he heard footsteps. He sighed, knowing that he was going to be the subject of gossip and rumours for the next few days.

 

“Professor Snape?”

 

He recognised the voice immediately as Draco Malfoy’s and relief washed through him. If nothing else, he knew Draco would not spread this around. “Yes, Mister Malfoy, can I help you?”

 

“No,” Draco answered, “But perhaps I could help you? You look as though you could use some assistance in getting back to your quarters.”

 

Snape sighed and reluctantly nodded his acceptance. “Thank you, Mister Malfoy. It would be most… appreciated.”

 

Draco didn’t say another word, just stepped up beside his Head of House, put the older man’s arm over his shoulders and helped him down the stairs and along the hall. When they reached his doors, he waited for Snape to give the password and assisted him inside.

 

 

“Ginny?” Harry asked as he stepped inside the common room just as the aforementioned girl was heading up the stairs to her dorm. “What are you doing up so early?”

 

“H-Harry!” Ginny exclaimed. “Um, I was just…” Ginny trailed off and then scowled, “Wait a minute, what are you doing sneaking in at this hour?”

 

“Probably the same thing you were,” Harry said lightly with a slight grin. “Tell you what, you keep my secret and I’ll keep yours. But Gin? Be more careful, if Ron caught you sneaking in after being out all night, you’d never hear the end of it.”

 

Ginny plastered a fake smile on her face and nodded her head. “Okay. Thanks, Harry.”

 

“You’re welcome, Gin. See you at breakfast, then,” Harry said as he made his way up the stairs to his own room. He figured he had just enough time to grab some clothes and get a shower before his dorm mates started waking up.

 

 

“Harry, wait up!”

 

Harry turned around on his way down to breakfast to see Neville hurrying to catch up to him. “Hey, Nev. What’s up?”

 

“Um, well you see, I…” Neville shrugged his shoulders and gave Harry a sheepish grin. “I was kinda wondering if you had any ideas yet on how to help Pansy. It’s just, graduation is coming up soon and I can’t help but worry.”

 

“Oh shit! Nev, I’m so sorry. I have something for Pansy, it’s a port-key. It’ll take her to a safe-house. Actually, it’s kind of *my* house, so I know for sure that it’s safe. Can you maybe get her to meet me in the Charms room about half an hour before first period?”

 

Neville grinned widely and nodded his head. “Thanks a lot, Harry! I owe you big time for this!”

 

Harry shook his head. “No you don’t, Nev. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t help you and Pansy?”

 

“Not many people would go out of their way to help a Slytherin, Harry. Not even for a friend,” Neville answered sadly.

 

“Well, I’ll let you in on a little secret. Not many people know this, but I was almost sorted into Slytherin. So you see, I know they can’t be *all* bad,” Harry said with a wink. “Besides, as one Gryffindor dating a Slytherin to another, I know that when you get past the icy cool facade, they have more passion in themselves than any of the people from other Houses.”

 

Neville laughed. “It still blows me away, you and Malfoy. Not the guy thing, but that it’s Draco Malfoy. I mean, seven years of… whatever the hell you two had going on, and then suddenly you’re dating? It boggles the mind, Harry.”

 

For just a second, something in Harry’s eyes darkened and Neville thought he could see a world of pain and anguish just hovering beneath the surface. But then it was gone again, as though it had never happened.

 

“Look, Harry, I know things haven’t been right with you for some time now, and if Malfoy makes you happy, then my hat’s off to him. You’ll always have my support, no matter what. If… If there’s something, I mean, if there’s anything I can ever do for you and I mean *anything*, you just let me know, all right?”

 

“Thanks, Nev.” Harry replied. “You’re a good friend and I appreciate the offer, but I just can’t talk about it, any of it, it’s too raw right now.”

 

“Alright, but I’m here if you ever change your mind. Come on, we’d best get down to breakfast before Ron gets there and eats everything.”

 

Laughing loudly, Harry followed Neville down to breakfast, his heart just a little bit lighter knowing that Neville, at least, understood when to back off.

 

 

Harry sat with Neville at the Gryffindor table and piled his plate with scrambled eggs and toast. He didn’t look up when Ron and Hermione came in, he was still quite pissed with them and they obviously knew it as they didn’t attempt to sit with him; instead heading for their regular seats further down the table.

 

Harry waited for a few minutes after he’d finished eating, then with a nod to Neville, he got up and headed for the Charms classroom. He could have simply given the port-key to Neville but he wasn’t taking any chances with Pansy’s safety and planned to key the device to activate on a spoken word by her mouth only.

 

Within minutes of his arrival, a nervous Pansy entered the room and looked at him questioningly. “Neville said you wanted me to meet you here, why?”

 

Harry tried to smile at her in a comforting way but gave up when he saw it wasn’t working. Like any true Slytherin, she was not going to swayed by a charming grin. “I promised Nev I’d find a way to help you; I have.”

 

Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a small silver band with a green stone in the centre, he held it out to the girl who looked at it appraisingly. “Is that Jade, Potter?”

 

“Yes,” Harry answered. “Highest quality as well, I wouldn’t expect you to accept anything less.”

 

Pansy grinned. “Draco is obviously a good influence on you, Potter. Did he help you with this?”

 

Harry shook his head. “No, I do have some taste contrary to the way I dress,” Harry answered with a smirk. “But that’s not the point here. Put this on, then I’ll activate it to accept only your voice and activation word or words. Make sure you choose something you wouldn’t normally say.”

 

Pansy slid the ring on her finger, and gasped as it tingled. “What–”

 

“Oh, yeah. I spelled so that it can’t be removed by anyone but me. It’s a safety precaution as the port-key will take you to my home. I wouldn’t want anyone getting a hold of it by accident.”

 

Pansy crossed her arms over her chest. “Very sneaky move, Potter. I can almost see why Draco would be taken with you. You not the little-goody-two-shoes I thought you were.”

 

“I’m nothing like what anyone thinks I am, Pansy. Pick something, we need to do this quickly.”

 

Pansy thought for a moment and then grinned. “Hufflepuffs rule.”

 

 

After leaving Pansy, Harry met up with Hermione on the way to Potions. When they classroom door opened, Harry followed Hermione to their seats and then looked across the room to see Draco watching Snape with veiled concern in his eyes. Harry wondered why and without thought read the morning’s activities from his lover’s mind.

 

Concern for Snape built up inside of Harry as he watched the events through Draco’s eyes. Draco had helped the older man back to his rooms, tended him with potions and summoned a house elf to bring him food and bandages. Snape had put up with Draco’s fussing for only so long before rather politely kicking him out of his quarters.

 

Wanting to know exactly how bad the Professor’s injuries were, and what had caused them, Harry switched his focus from Draco to Snape himself. He wasn’t surprised to learn that the man had been summoned last night, nor that he had been questioned. In truth, he had expected it after the discovery of Zabini’s body; Snape had to have expected it as well.

 

He sifted through Snape’s mind, seeing the entire meeting – if one could call a torture session a meeting – and sighed in frustration. He didn’t like Snape. He would probably never like Snape, but he hated the fact that the man was tortured on a regular basis because of him.

 

There was nothing to be done about it now though. Harry needed to speak with Draco, soon, as he still needed his help in his plans against his two nosy friends. He focused on Draco for a second and implanted the thought to meet him before lunch, then tuned in to the lesson going on around him.

 

 

After morning classes as everyone went to lunch, Harry snuck off to meet Draco in Myrtle’s loo. When he got there, he found his lover waiting for him, a somewhat confused look on his face. “What am I doing here, Harry? Did you put the idea in my head?”

 

“Yeah, sorry,” Harry replied. “I needed to talk to you and I didn’t want to risk the wrath of Snape today by sending you a note in class.”

 

“Oh, alright then. So what is it?”

 

Harry grinned. “I have an idea to teach Ron and ’Mione not to spy on me, but I’ll need your help to pull it off.”

 

“Will it be painful? For them I mean,” Draco asked with barely suppressed glee.

 

Harry chuckled softly. “Only if Ron actually gouges his own eyes out after what he’s going to see. So, you gonna help me?”

 

“What could the Weasel possibly see that would make him rip his own eyes out of their sockets?” Draco asked with a scowl. Harry leaned in and whispered in his ear. As Harry explained his idea, the scowl on Draco’s face faded away to be replaced with an ever widening grin. By the end of Harry’s explanation, he was nodding his head and laughing out loud.

 

“I’m in,” Draco said as he looked at Harry in awe. “I am definitely in.”

 

 

Narcissa Malfoy was a very beautiful woman. Anyone who had laid eyes on the woman would attest to that fact. Her beauty had been said to rival that of a Veela, but what most people didn’t know was that she had the temper to match as well.

 

Her morning had started off quite pleasant. She had soaked leisurely in the bath, had a scrumptious breakfast followed by coffee in the sunroom as she read the paper and caught up on her correspondence. She was, after all, the Lady of the Manor and while Lucius was away it fell to her to keep the Malfoy name from falling to ruin.

 

She was interrupted in the midst of writing her RSVP to a dinner party next month by an ugly brown owl tapping on the pane of glass to her right. Flicking her wand toward the window she opened it to allow the bird entrance. When it landed, she removed the small roll of parchment from its leg and it flew off immediately.

 

Having already been disrupted in her reply, she opened the scroll and read what it contained. As the words seared themselves into her brain, her face became an ugly shade of red. Her fists clenched as the letter fell to the floor and she reared her head back and screamed.

 

If what she had read was true, then she needed to take drastic measures. Draco would ruin the name of Malfoy if anyone ever found out he’d taken up with Harry Potter. Not only that, but her Lord would not be pleased and she had no desire to feel the Cruciatus curse ever again.

 

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A/N : Um, ok, so this is the all porn, no plot (or very little plot at least) section of the story. If the NC17 stuff bugs you, I could write a PG version – but it would be about six sentences I think.  <shrugs>   :o)

 

 

Original Posting Date: Sat, 23 Oct 2004 19:24:22 -0400 (EDT)

 

I love the way you look at me. I love the way you smack my ass. I love the dirty things you do. I have control of you. – Puddle of Mudd

 

Part 21

 

It was after curfew and while the rest of the school was either sleeping, getting ready for bed, or hidden away with a lover, Draco was waiting in an old dusty classroom for Harry to lead his friends to their fate. He couldn’t help but smile at the evil plan that his love had concocted.

 

The door opened and Draco wiped the grin off his face, looking as cool and aloof as he usually did when facing the public. He couldn’t see them, but Harry let him know with a look that Weasley and his mudblood bitch were there, hiding beneath Harry’s cloak.

 

“You’re late, Potter!” Draco snapped.

 

Harry bit his lip to hide a grin and looked to the floor. “I’m sorry, I…”

 

“I don’t want your excuses!” Draco cut him off with a sharp look. “What I want is your obedience.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Harry answered softly and slowly dropped to his knees. Draco smirked in triumph, just picturing the look that must be on the weasel’s face.

 

“Come to me, Harry,” Draco said softly. “Crawl to your master.”

 

Not once looking up from the floor, Harry slowly made his way across the room until he was kneeling before Draco. He sat back, his knees spread, head lowered, and hands behind his back. Draco almost came in his pants just looking at Harry’s submissive form. “You disappointed me, Harry. You promised you wouldn’t be late this time.”

 

“I’m sor…”

 

“I did not tell you to speak!” Draco interrupted. “Now, I think you want to apologise, yes? But, you see, I don’t think I want to hear an apology from you, Harry. Words are meaningless after all. Actions, however speak far louder. Look at me, Harry,” Draco commanded. Harry looked up, keeping his expression sorrowful and Draco gave him a soft smile. “If you wish to apologise, you may show me how sorry you are.”

 

Harry nodded eagerly and reached for Draco’s belt. He heard a slight gasp from off to the side but ignored it. He undid his lover’s belt and was about to unfasten his trousers when Draco cleared his throat. “No hands, Harry. Use your mouth.”

 

Harry almost smirked. This had not been part of the plan. It seemed his beautiful Slytherin wanted to play. Well, he could play along. It certainly made it more interesting this way.

 

As Harry leaned forward and nuzzled at his crotch, Draco sucked in a sharp breath and let out a low moan. He knew he was in for it now. Harry might be playing the role of submissive but they both knew who had the power, and it wasn’t Draco.

 

 

Ron was horrified.

 

He’d decided that Harry was up to something no good and he was going to find out what. Surprisingly, Hermione had agreed and didn’t put up even the tiniest bit of resistance when he’d suggested following him. So when Harry had snuck out of the dormitory, Ron had borrowed the Invisibility Cloak and followed him. Hermione had been waiting in the common room behind one of the sofas.

 

Once they were both covered they left the tower and followed Harry to an old abandoned classroom in an unused corridor. Whatever Ron had expected to see, this surely wasn’t it.

 

Harry Potter was the strongest wizard he’d ever met – next to Dumbledore anyway, and to see him get down on his knees and crawl, and to Malfoy of all people… Well it messed with his world view something fierce. Harry was supposed to be a hero, a saviour, not afraid of anything or anyone. But Malfoy had ordered him to shut up and Harry had obeyed. He’d ordered him to come and Harry had crawled. He’s told him to apologise without words and Harry was…

 

He didn’t want to think about what Harry was doing. He didn’t want to hear the sounds Malfoy was making. And mostly, he didn’t want to watch as Harry leaned in and took Malfoy’s prick into his mouth. But for some reason, he couldn’t look away. It was like a horrible Potions accident; you didn’t want to look, you just couldn’t help it.

 

 

It was all her fault. If only she had made more of an effort to get Harry to open up after Sirius died. If only she had not listened when people told her to give Harry space. If only she had followed her first instinct – that Draco Malfoy was as slimy as a slug and Harry should not be involved with him in any way. If only she had read about these sorts of relationships! Then she might know what to do to stop it!

 

Hermione closed her eyes as Harry lowered Draco’s trousers with his teeth. She did not want to see this.

 

 

Harry looked up with a twinkle of mirth in his eyes before gently licking the head of Draco’s cock. He knew that his friends were likely mortified by this and would think twice about ever following him again. That was the point to this lesson after all. Besides, it was kind of hot knowing he had an audience. He could tell Draco was enjoying it.

 

“Don’t tease, pet. I thought you were apologizing?” Draco asked and then groaned long and loud as Harry lowered his mouth on him, taking him into the back of his throat before raising up to do it again.

 

“Much better,” Draco gasped slightly. “Nice and slow, Harry. I want to feel your mouth on me for a good long while.”

 

Harry complied and kept his suction light and his strokes slow. He wouldn’t ever admit it, but he kind of enjoyed this; being on his knees in front of the blond, obeying orders. It was liberating in a way, not being responsible for a change. And he trusted Draco not to take advantage of him, to humiliate him. He was the only one he did trust anymore.

 

After a good long while, Draco threaded his hands into Harry’s hair and began to pull him down on his cock harder and faster. Harry moaned around his mouthful of flesh and let himself relax into the rhythm Draco had set.

 

“I’m going to cum, Harry, and I want you to swallow it all. Don’t spill even a drop or I’ll punish you for it,” Draco spoke through his panting. Harry nodded his understanding as best as he could and increased the suction on Draco’s hard prick. He had to keep reminding himself not to touch his lover, that he was supposed to keep his hands off. It was difficult as Harry enjoyed touching Draco, running his hands over all that pale smooth skin, tweaking his nipples into hard little buds, teasing the puckered flesh of his arse as he got closer and closer to climax.

 

Draco came with a groan, pulling Harry’s mouth down hard on his prick and holding him there as he emptied himself into Harry’s throat. Harry swallowed everything given to him and when Draco finally released his grip on him, he licked his lover clean before resting back on his heels and smiling up at him.

 

Draco blinked and steadied his breath as he tucked his spent member back into his trousers and looked down at the lust-filled expression on Harry’s face. “Very good, pet. You’re forgiven.” He held out his hand and when Harry took it he pulled him to his feet and turned him around so that Harry’s back was pressed against his chest. “Would you like to cum now?” Draco leaned in and whispered in Harry’s ear.

 

Harry couldn’t help the low moan that escaped his throat. This hadn’t been part of the plan either. Then again, he hadn’t expected to get so turned on by acting submissive to Draco. He no longer cared that Ron and Hermione were cowering in the corner, that they were watching him. He did want to cum now, he wanted to feel Draco’s hands on him, his lips, anything and everything his lover was willing to offer. “Yes,” he whispered and tilted his head to the side as Draco began licking his neck.

 

Draco smiled in triumph. He was definitely going to enjoy pleasuring Harry while his friends watched. He only wished he could see their faces as his hands moved slowly toward the waist band of Harry’s jeans, as his fingered deftly undid the button and then slowly lowered the zipper.

 

“How would you like to cum, love? Do you want my hands on you, my mouth? Tell me what you want,” Draco spoke huskily.

 

Harry moaned, his hips bucking forward as Draco palmed his hot cock through his boxer shorts. “Whatever way you want is fine with me. Master,” Harry added as an afterthought and felt Draco grind his hips forward into him as his hand gripped him tighter. “Merlin, Harry,” Draco whispered softly in his ear. Harry bit his lip to keep from smiling.

 

Draco wasted no time; he slid Harry’s jeans and boxers just far enough down his thighs to free his aching cock. He held him with a firm grip and gave long slow strokes, all the time grinding his own renewed, cloth-covered erection in to Harry’s arse. Harry lifted his arms and settled them behind Draco’s neck, offering himself up completely to the whims of his lover. “Faster, please,” he whispered as Draco continued his slow assault.

 

“I do so love to hear you beg, pet,” Draco spoke as he continued in the same slow rhythm. “I love to hear you pant, and moan, and scream for me. Would you scream for me, Harry?”

 

“Yes,” Harry replied.

 

“Would you do anything I asked of you, love?”

 

“Yessss,” Harry hissed as Draco tightened his grip and sped up ever so slightly.

 

“Tell me you want me.”

 

“I do,” Harry panted. “I want you.”

 

“Tell me I’m the only one, that no one will ever touch you like this but me.” Draco knew he was pushing it but he couldn’t help himself. He had never felt so powerful in his life, having Harry writhing in his hands, moaning and begging for his touch.

 

“Only you, Master. I swear it!” Harry practically shouted as Draco nipped at his ear.

 

“Would you give up Quidditch for me, Harry? Not play ever again if I asked you to?”

 

“Yes, please more, oh gods, I can’t stand it.”

 

“I don’t want you to play Quidditch anymore Harry, tell me you won’t play,” Draco commanded. He knew Harry was nervous about the match next week against Slytherin, that it would be the first time since the attack that he would have to get back on his broom. With Weasley right here, he figured he could use the situation to help Harry out of it.

 

“I won’t play, I promise, please, Draco!” Harry squirmed and whined as Draco moved the hand on his cock faster, the other one digging into his hip to hold him still as he continued to grind against him.

 

“Tell me you love me, Harry,” Draco panted in his ear. “Tell me!”

 

“I love you! Draco, fuck! I love you!” Harry screamed as he came over Draco’s fist. Draco closed his eyes and held Harry tighter as he thrust against him one final time as he came again, messing his trousers. His eyes snapped open a moment later as he felt a soft, warm tongue licking at his fingers, cleaning all traces of Harry’s seed from his hand.

 

“God, I love you, Harry,” Draco whispered before realising what he’d said and stiffening in horror.

 

 

In the drawing room at Malfoy Manor, Narcissa Malfoy, Lady of the Manor and Dark Lord supporter, looked disdainfully at the men in attendance. They were not the most intelligent of wizards, but they were loyal not only to Voldemort, but to Lucius and the Malfoy name as well. They would do as she asked.

 

“I am sure you are all wondering why I have called you here,” she spoke and received many nods of affirmation. “It has been brought to my attention that Harry Potter seeks to corrupt my son. That he has indeed placed some form of Imperius on him, or slipped him a potion perhaps. He has turned Draco away from his responsibilities, his destiny and rightful place at our Lord’s side.”

 

Narcissa waited until the murmurs of outrage and gasps of shocked disbelief died down before continuing. “It is imperative that Draco be brought home. He needs to be away from Potter’s influence. You will go and bring him back here. This is a Hogsmeade weekend and I know that my son will take advantage of the chance to leave the school grounds.”

 

Narcissa looked from one face to another with narrowed eyes. “You will not harm my son in any way. If I find out that you have caused him so much as a broken nail, I will make sure you pay for your transgression. Is that understood?”

 

Several of the men in attendance swallowed audibly. They had, at one time or another, been in the presence of the Lady Malfoy’s temper. It wasn’t an experience they were eager to repeat. Mulciber stood from his seat and bowed respectfully. “Yes, my Lady. We will retrieve your son for you with no harm to him whatsoever.”

 

“Very well,” Narcissa answered. “You are all dismissed. I will see you by Sunday night – with Draco – or I will hunt you down myself.”

 

The Death Eaters wasted no time in departing.

 

 

‘Leave. Now. Go back to Gryffindor tower and forget how you got there or that you received this command.’

 

Harry sent the order and watched as Ron and Hermione left the room. He could feel Draco’s tense posture behind him and slowly turned around, his hand still holding Draco’s.

 

Harry looked deep into Draco’s eyes, resisting the urge to just plunge into his mind and find the answers he so desperately wanted. “Did you mean that?” Harry whispered. “Please, Draco, tell me the truth.”

 

Draco dropped his gaze to the floor and closed his eyes, his shoulders slumped and he shook his head. “Do I really have to answer you, Harry? You could find out for yourself.”

 

“I could,” Harry agreed, “but I’d rather hear it from you.”

 

Draco let out a shaky laugh. “The one time I’d rather you read my thoughts, and you refuse to. You’ll never make things easy on me will you, Potter?”

 

“You wouldn’t be with me if I made things easy, Draco. You thrive on challenge. Like me,” Harry replied and then placed his hand on Draco’s chin and lifted his head. Their eyes met and Harry placed a soft kiss on Draco’s lips. “Tell me, Draco.”

 

Draco sighed. “Yes, Harry. The answer is yes.”

 

Harry smiled then, that same shy smile that made Draco fall in love with him. He leaned in and kissed Draco again, a little firmer this time, parting the blond’s lips with his tongue to briefly taste him before pulling back. “Thank you. You have no idea what it means to me to have you say that.”

 

Draco was a bit disappointed that Harry hadn’t said the words back, but he’d rather he never hear them than for Harry to say it and not mean it. “I didn’t mean to tell you, Harry. It just slipped out.”

 

“I’m glad you did. I’ve never had someone tell me they love me before.”

 

It was such a sad statement that Draco couldn’t help but pull Harry into his arms and hold him. “I love you, Harry, and I’ll keep telling you that I love you until you’re sick and tired of hearing it.”

 

Harry grinned and kissed Draco’s neck. “I hope you don’t have any plans for the future, as I’m sure I’ll never tire of hearing you say it.”

 

Draco’s hand, which had been resting on Harry’s waist, trailed down slightly and he started to laugh. Harry looked up at him in question and Draco laughed harder. Harry took a step back, looked down and saw the reason for his lover’s mirth. The entire time they had been talking, Harry’s pants and underwear had been down around his knees.

 

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Original Posting Date: Sun, 31 Oct 2004 13:21:53 -0500 (EST)

 

Life is full of problems. And here’s the remedy. Denial works for me (denial works for me). There’s a freight train coming, Loaded with anxiety. You’re tied to the tracks – don’t worry (denial works for me). – Tism

 

Part 22

 

“Ron.”

 

“No! We’re not talking about this, Herm. I don’t care what you say, I’m *not* reliving that,” the irate red-head snarled.

 

Hermione sighed. “But Harry…”

 

“Has gone completely mental!” Ron cut in. “I mean, fucking around with Malfoy is one thing, having a relationship with the sod I could even handle, but this… perverted shite they were playing at? ’Mione, he *crawled*. Harry – our Harry – crawled on his hands and knees and then… Damn it, ’Mione, what the hell is wrong with him?”

 

“I don’t know, Ron. Maybe we should talk to him about this.”

 

“And say what?” Ron practically shouted. “Hey, mate, we followed you around the castle and watched you suck off Malfoy the other night. Oh and by the way, what’s this about you quitting Quidditch? Is that what we should say to him?”

 

Hermione huffed in annoyance. “No, that’s *not* what I think we should say to him. Honestly, Ron. I was thinking we could simply sit down and discuss it like rational adults, but then I remembered who I was talking to!”

 

“What, so now I’m not rational? Well screw you! I just watched my *best friend* crawl to my *worst enemy*, what do you expect me to feel about that? He’s Harry Potter for fuck’s sake, he can stand up to You-Know-Who, but Malfoy says shite and he comes sliding?”

 

“I don’t understand it either, but perhaps if I could find a book on these types of relationships…” Hermione said.

 

Ron snorted. “Yeah, you do that. Go find a book to solve all of Harry’s problems. I’m going upstairs to bed. Maybe when I wake up this will all have been a nightmare.” That said, Ron stomped off to his dorm and left a very annoyed and hurt Hermione standing in the common room.

 

 

“Stay with me tonight?” Harry asked Draco as they left the old classroom.

 

“Down in the chamber?” Draco asked.

 

Harry grinned. “Well, I’d take you back to the tower, but I think Ron would try to kill you. Or me. Possibly both,” he answered with a laugh.

 

“Do you think he’ll say anything to you, about tonight?”

 

“No, if anyone says something, it’ll be Hermione.” Harry shook his head. “I hope they learned a lesson from this. They’re my friends and I don’t want to hurt them or anything, but I need space and privacy sometimes, and they don’t seem to understand that. I mean, I never dreamed of following Ron around when he was sneaking off with Hermione when they first got together.”

 

“Well, maybe this will have done the trick. But if it didn’t, I’m not adverse to the idea of doing it again,” Draco replied cheekily.

 

Harry pinned Draco to the wall and rubbed against him. “Did you get off on that? Having power over me, knowing you could make me do anything and I would obey? Did you like knowing that my friends were watching as I crawled for you, as I sucked you and begged you to touch me? Did you enjoy being my *Master*, Draco? Did it get you all hot and bothered?” Harry purred in his lover’s ear.

 

Draco groaned and practically melted against the wall. “Yes,” he replied. “Oh, *fuck* yes.”

 

Harry nipped at Draco’s ear. “Me too,” he whispered and then claimed Draco’s lips in a fiery kiss.

 

 

It was late and under normal circumstances she would be sleeping, but then again under normal circumstances she would be a he. Greg Goyle sighed in frustration and threw a roll of parchment against the wall. Runes was never an easy subject and it was worse now that he had to study on his own. At least before, he had Draco to help him when he got lost – which admittedly was quite often.

 

He was grateful to the Headmaster for letting him stay in school and even for keeping him out of classes so the other Slytherins wouldn’t see what had happened to him; their pack mentality would have demanded they turn on him, seeing him as weak. It was a bitter potion to swallow, going from being the biggest, strongest guy in the school to a weak, fragile girl in a matter of seconds. He was still getting used to the idea.

 

He missed his friends – not necessarily the things they did but just having someone to talk to. He wondered if this was what it was like to be Potter; he remembered when everyone thought he was the Heir of Slytherin back in second year, and when Weasley turned against him in fourth because of the Tri-Wizard tourney. If Potter had felt even half as alone as Greg now did, then he had his sympathy. Especially since Potter didn’t deserve what happened to him.

 

Giving up on the work for the night, Greg packed up his ink, quill, and books and got ready for bed. He was just about to blow out the candle on his bed-side table when a tapping sounded at the window. Turning, he sighed sadly as he recognised his father’s owl. He let the bird in, retrieved the letter and watched as it flew away. He opened the note and read:

 

 

Greg,

 

Vincent wrote to tell me that you have been turned into a girl.

 

Is this true? Is there a countercharm? I will need to renegotiate your marriage contract if none exists.

 

As you well know, Vincent is not betrothed. If your condition is not put right, I will arrange for the two of you to be married.

 

Get back to me with an answer.

 

Father

 

 

Greg read the note twice and then crumpled it into a ball and threw it across the room. There was no way he was marrying Vincent Crabbe, even if he was stuck in this female body for the rest of his life.

 

Tears came to his eyes unbidden and he curled up on his bed and let them fall. If only he’d let the Hat put him in Hufflepuff, none of this would have happened.

 

 

“This place needs a bed, Harry. Can’t you transfigure one or something?” Draco asked as they cuddled up on the sofa together.

 

“Probably, I just never thought of it. Besides, I kinda like sleeping wrapped around you,” Harry replied.

 

Draco smiled. “I do too, but a bed would be easier on my back. Plus, there would be more room for *other* activities.”

 

Harry sprang to his feet. “Well, why didn’t you just say so?”

 

Draco laughed as he watched Harry take out his wand and aim it at the cabinet in the corner. In a matter of seconds it became a decadent queen-sized four poster with black, satin sheets and big fluffy pillows. “Very nice, Harry. Should we test it out?”

 

“I thought you’d never ask,” Harry replied as he pulled Draco up from the sofa and toward the bed.

 

They fell together among the pillows and Harry lay back, content to let Draco do as he pleased for now. He still couldn’t get over the feeling of elation as he remembered the words of love the other boy had spoken earlier that night. Harry had never expected anyone to ever actually love him. Not for just him, anyway. The-Boy-Who-Lived was loved by many, worshipped and adored for all the wrong reasons. Even his friends had misconceptions about him, though they knew him better than most, but Ron, having grown up with tales of how Harry Potter had defeated the Dark Lord, expected him to be a hero, and Hermione was almost as bad, seeing as she had read all about him. And Merlin knew, if it was in a book, then it had to be true as far as she was concerned. But Draco didn’t love The-Boy-Who-Lived, the hero, the saviour of the wizarding world. He wasn’t sure that Draco even *liked* that person. No, Draco loved Harry. Just Harry. It was that realization that prompted Harry’s next words.

 

“Draco, I want you to take me.”

 

 

Standing alone in the common room Hermione looked up to where Ron had disappeared and forced herself not to cry. She knew Ron was hurt and confused and he was taking it out on her simply because she was there. It still hurt, but she knew he didn’t mean it. “Tomorrow, Ronald Weasley, you will apologise to me for this,” Hermione said softly but with determination, “or I will take a page out of Malfoy’s book and make you crawl for my forgiveness!”

 

Knowing that tomorrow was going to be a trying day all around, Hermione headed up the stairs to the girls dorm. Tomorrow she would head to the library and see if they had anything that would help her understand what she had seen between Harry and Draco earlier that night, but right now, she was going to get some much-needed sleep.

 

 

Draco froze. He couldn’t possibly have heard what he thought he had. “Harry?”

 

Harry knew what Draco was asking, and he knew it would be up to him to convince him that this was what he really wanted. “Yes, Draco. I meant it, I do mean it. I want you to take me, to make love to me. I’m ready.”

 

Blinking away his shock, Draco let a genuine smile cross his face. Harry might not have said the words in any real sense, but actions had always spoken louder as far as he was concerned. If Harry was asking this of him, it had to mean his feelings were not one-sided. But still, he had to be sure. “Are you sure this is what you want, Harry? I told you before that I’m willing to wait.”

 

“Well, I’m not,” Harry said as he pushed himself up on his forearms and kissed Draco gently. “I want this, with you. I want to feel you inside me, Draco. Please, don’t make me beg.”

 

Draco groaned and lowered Harry back to the bed. “Never,” he whispered against the other boy’s soft lips. “You need never beg for anything with me, Harry. All I have, all I am, I give to you freely.”

 

Harry felt his heart fill to bursting at the boy’s soft spoken plea. He could hardly believe this was the same Draco he had known since he was eleven years old. Then again, he wondered if he had ever truly known Draco before the attack. Perhaps this was the boy he had always been and the other was a façade, a mask he wore to keep himself from being hurt. It seemed likely, given the way he was with Harry now.

 

“And I give myself to you as well,” Harry whispered as their mouths separated for a fleeting moment before his lips were claimed in passion once again.

 

For Draco it was like every Christmas and birthday he’d ever had all rolled into one, the culmination of his heart’s desire since he was just a child. He had always wanted Harry Potter, even before they’d met, and now, here he was in the flesh, offering himself to him. Body, mind and soul. It was intoxicating.

 

“I love you, Harry,” Draco said as he looked deep into his lover’s eyes. “I love you, and I will *never* hurt you.”

 

“I know,” Harry answered him confidently. “Make love to me, Draco. I can’t wait any longer.”

 

Draco brushed the hair from Harry’s forehead and tenderly kissed his scar. Harry flinched ever so slightly and Draco shook his head slightly. “It’s part of who you are, Harry. I love all of you, including the hero. Even if that part of you was a royal pain in my arse.”

 

Harry chuckled weakly and Draco kissed him again. “Relax, love, I just want to make you feel good.”

 

Harry nodded and slowly began to relax once more as Draco’s lips and tongue paid homage to his neck and chest and his fingers slowly undressed him. As much as he enjoyed being the dominant one during sex, he had missed this; this feeling of utter abandon, of having someone touching and caressing him. It was the closest he ever came to feeling loved and it was all the better with Draco because he was loved. Draco loved him, and Harry loved Draco as well. He just wasn’t ready to admit it yet. If he said it, then it was real, and if it was real then he would lose him. Harry always lost the people he loved the most.

 

Having gotten them both undressed, Draco took a moment to appreciate the sight of his lover laying back on the luxurious silk sheets, his tanned, muscular body spread out and waiting. Harry had never looked more beautiful to him then he did now. “Gorgeous,” Draco breathed and Harry blushed.

 

“I’m not,” Harry replied softly. “I’m nothing compared to you, Draco. You’re so beautiful that I can never compare.”

 

Draco shook his head slightly and smiled down at his love. “I’m not wasting breath arguing with you right now, Harry. I think you are completely stunning, and I have never wanted you more than I do at this moment.” Before Harry could respond, Draco kissed him again and again until the majority of this brain functions shut down.

 

Breaking away from Harry’s mouth, Draco slid down to tease and lick Harry’s nipples. He pinched, sucked, and nibbled on them until they were hard little buds and Harry was writhing in ecstasy. He moved lower then, placing wet, open-mouthed kisses down a hard, rippled abdomen, stopping to suck the indent of Harry’s navel before taking him in his mouth. At Harry’s pleasured moan, he reached out for his wand and cast the lubricus charm on his fingers.

 

Making sure Harry was aware of his intent, he slowly trailed one slippery digit back behind his balls and circled his opening. He made no move to penetrate until he was sure Harry was okay with his touch, then slipped his finger in to the first knuckle. Pulling off Harry’s cock for a moment, he asked,” Is this okay?”

 

Harry moaned and opened his eyes slightly to look down his body to where Draco lay between his open legs. “Yeah, s’good. Just go slow, s’been a while.” Draco nodded his assent and went back to pleasuring Harry slowly.

 

By the time Draco had worked three fingers into Harry’s tight hole, Harry was a writhing mess of unsatisfied lust. It took all the self control Draco had to keep from simply taking him hard and fast. “Ready, love?” Draco asked as he pulled his fingers free and positioned himself between Harry’s legs.

 

“Yes, oh gods yes. Please Draco,” Harry whined and lifted his knees higher.

 

Draco pushed in slowly, relishing the tight squeeze of Harry’s body around his prick. He’d never felt anything so good in his life. “You’re mine, now, Harry. All mine and I’m never letting you go.”

 

“Yours,” Harry breathed and pulled Draco down to kiss him. “Always yours,” he finished after pulling out of the kiss and flexing his anal muscles around Draco’s cock. “Move. Please.”

 

Draco growled at the increased tightness and did as requested. With long, sure strokes, he moved inside his lover’s body, hitting that sweet spot over and over as Harry cried out again and again for harder, faster, more.

 

When he could hold off no longer, Draco fisted Harry’s erection and stroked him in time to his thrusts. Within moments, climax was upon them and as Harry sprayed across their stomachs, Draco thought he heard the words ‘I love you’ pass his lover’s lips.

 

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Original Posting Date: Mon, 8 Nov 2004 20:29:00 – 0500 (EST)

 

It’s true the way I feel was promised by your face. The sound of your voice painted on my memories, even if you’re not with me I’m with you. – Linkin Park

 

Part 23

 

Slipping quietly from her bed, Ginny Weasley retrieved a small flask of potion and a glass tube partially filled with ebony hair from her trunk. Taking a quick look around to make sure her room mates were still sleeping, she silently snuck from the room and down to the common room to meet with her sometimes lover, Colin. They had been friends since first year, starting up the Harry Potter Fan Club together. He was a nice guy and the only one Ginny trusted enough to do this for her.

 

They left the common room together, quickly heading for their secret room. Once there, Ginny pulled one of the hairs from the glass tube and dropped it into the flask. Colin drank down the potion as he had done many times over the past two years, and within moments transformed into Harry Potter. Ginny smiled seductively at him and wrapped her arms around his neck before pulling him into a deep kiss. It might not be the best of relationships, but they each got what they wanted out of it. Colin got to *be* Harry, and Ginny got to be *with* Harry.

 

 

Harry lay in the quiet darkness of Slytherin’s study, Draco’s arm flung over his chest, as he let the memories of the previous night’s love-making wash over him. He had always enjoyed being the focus of such attentions but with Draco, it had been so much better than with either of his two previous lovers.

 

Charlie Weasley had taught him a good many things about love; both physical and emotional. To say that Charlie was good with his hands – or mouth, or really any part of his body – was a huge understatement. The man really was gifted. And when they were together, Harry had fallen for him hard and fast. He might not like the way it had ended, but he’d learned a lot from Charlie – not just how to please another man intimately, but also that sex and love did not necessarily go hand in hand. It had been a bitter lesson but one that served him well.

 

With Oliver, Harry had expected more. He knew that his ex-Quidditch captain had been interested in him for some time, so when they hooked up, Harry wasn’t as vigilant as he should have been. He let Oliver’s words of love and adoration lull him into a false sense of security. He wasn’t sure that he actually loved Oliver, but he was close to it. Close enough that it hurt terribly when the older man had ended things.

 

Still, between the two of them, Harry had learned a great many things about sex and love and how to differentiate between the two. So he knew for sure, without a doubt, that what he now had, with Draco, was the real thing. Draco really did love him – all of him – and Harry loved Draco as well. He didn’t think he’d ever loved anyone more than he did Draco. Not even Sirius. And the thought of it both elated and terrified him at once.

 

If he lost Draco, he would lose himself as well. The wizarding world wouldn’t have to worry about Voldemort. Harry Potter would be *much* worse.

 

 

Draco woke slowly and stretched. It took him a minute to remember where he was and why but once he did, a large sappy grin spread across his face. He was with Harry, in the Chamber, in bed. Where they had made love last night. Where he had finally fulfilled his great desire to touch Harry without limits, to be over him and inside of him and to give him as much pleasure as he possibly could. To show him how much he loved him.

 

Sighing softly, Draco snuggled closer to his love and couldn’t help but chuckle as warm arms pulled him over and on top of the other’s body. “Awake, I see,” he whispered before kissing Harry on the cheek.

 

“Yeah, been up for a while now but I was too comfy to move,” Harry replied. “How did you sleep?”

 

Draco hummed a pleasured sound. “Wonderfully. You?”

 

“Best I’ve slept in ages. Must have been the company.”

 

Draco opened his mouth to say something in response but Harry quieted him by sliding his finger between his lips. Draco felt a tingling sensation and then tasted mint. When Harry removed his finger, Draco shook his head in amusement just before Harry’s lips covered his own.

 

After a long sensuous kiss, Harry lay back with his eyes closed and just held Draco against him for a long time. He basked in the sensations filling him. Love, happiness, contentment, a sense of fulfilment he’d never known. That he was with the only person he had ever, or would ever, truly love. He was unaware that he was projecting these emotions, or that Draco was soaking them up like a sponge; eyes wet with unshed tears and smiling from ear to ear.

 

 

After showering and dressing for the day, Ginny made her way down to the Great Hall, eagerly anticipating the morning’s mail. She wanted to have a front row seat when Malfoy got his ultimatum. She felt a little bad for what she had done, but only because she hated to hurt Harry. But if everything worked the way she knew it would, it would be worth it in the long run. Malfoy couldn’t give Harry the things he deserved. Things like love and commitment, a home, family who loved him, children. Harry had never had these things and she knew they were important to him. She also knew, deep in her soul, that Harry was meant to be hers. That she alone could give him the things he deserved. It was only a matter of time before Harry figured it out as well.

 

The Hall was still mostly empty. A few Ravenclaw seventh years were at the far end of their table, books and parchment spread out alongside their breakfast. One would think it was preparation for NEWTS, except that it had been the same scene every morning since the beginning of the year. It was still a wonder that Hermione hadn’t been sorted into Ravenclaw.

 

The Hufflepuff table was empty as was Gryffindor other than herself, but the Slytherins were mostly in attendance. They were all early risers as far as Ginny could tell. Either that or they slept in here.

 

Malfoy was not present, but that didn’t surprise her. She knew that Harry was no longer sleeping in the dorm most nights and that he and Malfoy were together. It made her blood boil to think that Harry had been cheating on her, and after the way he kissed her so sweetly and the many times he’d made love to her so slowly and with such feeling.

 

A small part of her knew that she was deluding herself, allowing her assignations with Colin to be more than they were, but she couldn’t help it. In her mind it *was* Harry, it had always and only *been* Harry. She had never strayed, never been unfaithful to him, and it hurt that he was with another. That he wasn’t as devoted to her as she was to him.

 

Well, that was going to stop. Draco Malfoy was going to be history. One way or another, Ginny would get her man.

 

 

“Are we going to Hogsmeade today, Harry?” Draco asked as they made their way down the hall to breakfast.

 

“I can’t,” Harry answered. “I have lessons with Snape today.”

 

Draco swallowed and closed his eyes momentarily. Remembrances of the last time flashing through his mind. Harry’s laughter, his blood filled eyes…

 

“Draco!”

 

Draco opened his eyes and shook his head to dispel the memories. He saw Harry looking at him with concern. “I’m fine, just remembering the last time. Damn, Harry, why do you do it? You don’t need the training; there is nothing Snape can teach you that you don’t already know.”

 

Harry sighed and pulled Draco into a darkened corner. “I know you don’t understand it, Draco, and I’m sorry that I let you see that now. I never should have allowed it. For all the things you have probably grown accustomed to growing up the way you did, you weren’t ready to see that. I’m sorry if what you saw scared you, but you have to understand that this is something I need to do. It… It helps to keep me focused on what’s important. What Snape does to me, it’s the same thing that Voldemort does to others. The difference is that I survive it where as the others don’t. I need to remember that it isn’t just about me and him, it’s about the entire world. Both wizard and muggle. The pain keeps me grounded,” Harry explained.

 

“I don’t like it, Harry,” Draco said sadly. “No one should have to endure the things you do.”

 

“That’s entirely my point, love. I do this so that I’ll be ready when the time comes, so that no one else will ever have to go through it.”

 

Draco shook his head sadly and then kissed Harry softly. “I still don’t like it, but I understand it. I think I will go into town for a couple hours this afternoon. Do you want anything from Honeydukes?”

 

Harry thought for a moment then smiled a very wicked smile. “Chocolate sauce.”

 

“Chocolate sauce?” Draco asked in confusion. “What in the world are you going to do with that?”

 

Harry’s grin became more feral. “Drizzle it all over your naked body and slowly lick you clean,” he replied huskily.

 

“Oh.” Draco said with wide eyes. “That could be fun.”

 

 

Hermione didn’t wait for Ron before leaving Gryffindor. She wasn’t so sure she wanted to see him this morning after the way he had acted last night. Yes, he was upset, and yes, she understood that, but it didn’t mean she was just going to take being treated that way. He had hurt her with his comments, his insults to her thirst for knowledge and understanding. Maybe, she could admit, she was a little overzealous when it came to books, but they were full of useful information! How was she suppose to keep Ron and Harry safe if she didn’t know ahead of time how things worked?

 

She had given it a lot of thought overnight and had come to the conclusion that there would be nothing useful in the Hogwarts library. This being a wizard school, it would have no books on psychology or behavioural disorders. If she really wanted to understand what was going between Harry and Malfoy, she needed to get to London, to the public library there. The question was, how was she supposed to do that? Graduation was only weeks away and she couldn’t risk expulsion, but on the other hand, could she risk Harry being hurt if she waited?

 

Still caught up in her dilemma, Hermione barely noticed Ginny as she sat down beside her at the table, poured herself a cup of tea, and picked at the scone she’d placed on her plate. Harry was in some kind of trouble, and now she and Ron were fighting, and to top it all off, she had no idea how she had gotten back to the tower last night. The last thing she remembered was watching Malfoy jerk Harry off and telling him he loved him.

 

A blush rose to her face at the very vivid memory. She really had tried to keep her eyes closed, but she kept feeling compelled to watch. The fact that both Harry and Draco were extremely attractive probably played a large part in that, as well as the fact that this was something new and her latent curiosity got the better of her. She had never thought of Harry as a sexual being before this thing with Malfoy started, but now, she couldn’t believe she had been so blind.

 

Harry was no longer the scrawny eleven-year-old boy with the too-big clothes and the taped glasses that she had met on the train. He had grown into a very attractive young man right before her very eyes and she hadn’t noticed. It was no wonder half the female population – and a fair number of the male population as well – threw themselves at him. Not that Harry had paid them much attention. He had always seemed unaware or at least indifferent to all the attention he received. Hermione had always chalked it up to his being famous and never gave it a second thought. Now she finally saw what everyone else did. With his tall frame, those long, lean muscles, tanned skin, those gorgeous green eyes and that silky black hair, Harry Potter was quite the looker.

 

Malfoy, she had to admit, had been turning heads since third year. He had grown considerably and had taken to wearing his hair without the gel that normally slicked it back. It looked much better that way, and she had even caught herself once or twice admiring the way the sun highlighted it, the way the slightest breeze would catch the strands and lift them gently in the air. Of course, once she realized she was ogling Draco Malfoy, she had stopped immediately. She wouldn’t even allow herself to look at him again for fear of finding him attractive. Hormones were a terrible, terrible thing.

 

It was mutually agreed upon by almost all the Gryffindor females that Malfoy was possibly the hottest boy in school, but also that he was the most dangerous and therefore the least approachable. She should have known that it would come to this. Harry and danger went hand in hand. If it was dangerous, Harry went after it with a vengeance.

 

And speaking of the devil, the doors opened and who else should walk in but Harry himself, followed seconds later by Malfoy. She wondered if they were even *trying* to keep things a secret.

 

 

Being aware of one’s surroundings and who was watching you was something Draco excelled in. It had been drilled into him from a very early age that Malfoys, because of their wealth and power – not to mention their physical attributes, would always be watched and admired by others. But also they would be targeted by those who wished to take what they had. Draco had never really understood these lessons until he began his attendance at Hogwarts, but once he had, he knew exactly what his parents had been talking about. At school, Draco was always watched by others. In fact at this very moment, he felt the penetrating gaze of at least two different people. One he knew beyond a shadow of doubt was Harry, but the other, the other felt almost sinister.

 

Looking up from his plate, Draco’s eyes swept over the room only to land on one Ginevra Weasley. Curiously he watched her as she stared at him with what could only be described as pure hatred. “Must have figured out about me and Harry,” Draco spoke softly to himself and then grinned. He may not have been able to get to Weasley the way he’d wanted to, but knowing that he had crushed the weasel’s baby sister’s dreams of a happily ever after with Harry made him very, very happy.

 

So happy in fact, that he didn’t even mind having to go into Hogsmeade alone today.

 

 

The mail had come and gone and nothing had been delivered to Malfoy.

 

Ginny was seething.

 

She had thought for sure that Narcissa Malfoy would have sent a letter, if not a Howler, demanding that Draco break off his association with Harry at once. There was no way that the Lady Malfoy would tolerate her only child being involved with the Dark Lord’s greatest adversary. Unless, maybe, she hadn’t taken the letter seriously? Perhaps she had completely disregarded it as some foolish prank.

 

This was not the way it was suppose to go, Ginny thought. She would need proof of Malfoy and Harry’s relationship. A picture perhaps? With that thought in mind, Ginny left the table. She knew just who to go to if she wanted a picture. Colin.

 

 

Harry finished his breakfast, went up to Gryffindor, showered, changed clothes and went to meet Snape in the dungeons. He was somewhat surprised to find the Headmaster there as well.

 

“Headmaster,” Harry nodded to the old man politely. It wouldn’t do to lose his temper right now or he might accidentally injure Professor Snape.

 

“Good morning, Harry. Professor Snape and I were just discussing the situation with Gregory Goyle. Have you perhaps reconsidered your earlier refusal to put right his condition?”

 

“No,” Harry answered shortly. “Greg and I have an understanding. One that I’m sure he explained to the both of you, so kindly leave it alone.”

 

“I will not,” Snape spoke as he moved to stand toe to toe with Harry. “His father is considering a betrothal, and by considering I mean that it is already done, with Vincent Crabbe. He showed me the letter his father sent when I checked in on him this morning.”

 

Harry really didn’t feel like arguing with Snape and Dumbledore this morning. He decided the quickest way to end this was to get the Headmaster on his side. So with his new ability he changed Dumbledore’s attitude toward things.

 

“Now, now, Severus. I think perhaps Harry has done Mister Goyle a great service. In fact, I think it might be a good idea to use this on the other seventh year boys that have shown leanings toward Voldemort and his beliefs.”

 

Snape snorted. “I wouldn’t advise it. I hardly think young Malfoy would be impressed with the loss of his manhood.”

 

Remembering the feel of Draco’s manhood as it stretched and filled him, Harry spoke without thinking. “I wouldn’t be impressed with the loss of Draco’s manhood myself actually. Seeing as I don’t find females attractive in the least.”

 

Snape made a choked gurgling sound and Harry’s eyes widened in realization of what he’d just said and to whom. “Oops?”

 

 

It was a beautiful day for a walk and regardless of his lack of company, Draco was glad he’d made the decision to go into town today. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and there was a pleasant scent of spring flowers on the breeze. All in all, a perfect day.

 

It was too bad he hadn’t noticed the dark figures hiding in the shadows as he passed by the Three Broomsticks and toward Honeydukes.

 

  Top

Original Posting Date: Mon, 15 Nov 2004 11:00:28 – 0500 (EST)

 

Trying to make some sense of it all but I can see that it makes no sense at all. Is it cool to go to sleep on the floor? I don’t think that I can take anymore. Clowns to the left of me! Jokers to the right! Here I am stuck in the middle with you. – Bob Dylan

 

Part 24

 

Hogsmeade was no fun at all when you were there by yourself. Or at least this was Vincent’s opinion. He’d never before gone into town without Goyle and Malfoy. For seven years it had been the three of them, the Slytherin equivalent of the Golden trio. Only they weren’t so much golden as tarnished silver. He could understand Greg not wanting to be seen in his current state – it was a fact that still made him chuckle when he thought about it. Of all the guys he knew, Greg had to be the last one he would ever picture as a girl. Malfoy on the other hand… well he could see him as a girl; Draco had that pale, flawless skin, and he was graceful and dressed impeccably. He should have known he was a poof. It was obvious now that he thought about it.

 

Then there was Potter. He knew that Potter had driven Zabini to kill himself, that it was his fault Goyle was a girl, that Nott had a scar in the shape of the Dark Mark on his arm – something that was sure to cause trouble as Theodore was suppose to be initiated this weekend because he’d turned eighteen two days ago. Crabbe was just glad he wasn’t going to be there when Voldemort saw what Potter had done. He knew what would happen, what Potter had promised would happen if anyone tried to take the memories of their torture from their minds. Ted was going to be left a dribbling idiot and the Dark Lord still wouldn’t know what had happened to him.

 

Thinking about his own initiation that was to happen just a few days before graduation, Crabbe wondered if he would come out of it intact. He wasn’t sure what Potter had done to him, he only knew that he had done *something*, and he dreaded finding out what it was. He knew it would be bad.

 

As he continued on his way back from Zonko’s, toward the sweet shop, he stopped dead; frozen in fear. Just a few feet away, he could see Malfoy walking toward him, but his eyes were locked on the figures behind him. Clowns. There were Clowns in Hogsmeade!

 

It was like he was six years old again. His magic surged forth in a desperate bid at self preservation. The Clown closest to him screamed as it dropped to it’s knees, the other Clowns drew wands from their odd clothing and starting firing spells at him and at Malfoy. Malfoy was clearly not afraid of the Clowns, Vince noticed. He wished he was as self confident. “Malfoy, where did they come from?” he shouted as they stood back to back in the street, the Clowns circling them.

 

“I have no idea! Why are you helping me?” Draco asked somewhat bewildered.

 

Crabbe shuddered. “I hate Clowns, Malfoy! I fucking *hate* them!” he replied.

 

“Clowns? Draco asked in confusion. “What the *fuck* are you on about, we’re surrounded by Death Eaters you bloody fool!”

 

“You… I … We… Oh *Merlin* am I in shit now,” Crabbe muttered threw a hex at the closest Death Eater Clown. He was already a dead man, he might as well go down trying to save Malfoy. No point in them both dying.

 

They put up a hell of a fight, but in the end they were outnumbered. Vincent was hit with a Stupefy and then put in a full body bind. He could only watch helplessly as Malfoy was also subdued. Two of the Death Eaters used a Portkey and disappeared – taking Draco with them. The rest Obliviated the few witnesses that were around. It was still early enough in the morning that there weren’t that many people out and about in town yet and only a handful of them were Hogwarts students.

 

As the last of the villagers and the few students were Obliviated, Vincent watched a familiar looking Clown make its way toward him. “Now, son, I think you have a lot of explaining to do, but it will wait until we get home.”

 

Hearing his father’s voice coming from the Clown’s mouth was a shock, but he nodded his acquiescence. He was going to be questioned, asked things he had no way to answer, and in the end, he’d be brought before the Dark Lord and left a dribbling idiot just like Nott. If only he’d let the hat put him in Hufflepuff, none of this would have happened.

 

 

After getting permission from Colin to borrow his camera, Ginny went in search of her targets. She couldn’t find Harry anywhere, but she did see Malfoy as he left through the front doors of the school. Obviously he and Harry were planning to meet up in Hogsmeade, Ginny thought to herself and quickly followed the blonde – making sure to stay out of sight.

 

She watched Draco as he walked towards town as though he hadn’t a care in the world and she smirked, knowing that by the end of the day, she would have the proof she needed to make Mrs. Malfoy realize that her letter had not been in jest.

 

She happened to notice the cloaked figures hiding in the shadows and quickly dropped back before she was seen. Her instincts were screaming at her that something bad was about to happen and she wanted no part of it. A tiny grin formed on her face as she saw the Death Eaters come out of hiding and make their way toward Draco.

 

Hiding around the side of the owl post office, Ginny watched the whole thing through the zoom lens of Colin’s camera. A very satisfied smile formed on her face as she watched Malfoy go down, saw the Death Eaters bind him and Portkey away with him. Harry was as good as hers now. Malfoy was gone, off to face Voldemort and most likely be killed for his betrayal. Harry would be devastated, but with no hope of ever being with Malfoy again, it would only make it that much easier for her to get to him. He would need comfort, someone to be strong for him, a person who loved him to hold him.

 

Ginny only had to make sure that she was the one with him when he found out what had happened, so she needed to get back to the school as soon as possible. Seeing that the Death Eaters were rounding up all the witnesses, Ginny snuck around to the back of the post office and climbed inside through the window. She hid beneath a desk to wait until everything was over.

 

 

Ron woke up to the sounds of Seamus and Dean arguing. Again. It was pretty much the norm for them to be at each other’s throats lately. They had found out a few weeks ago that they had both been seeing the same girl – a sixth year Ravenclaw named Keely. She hadn’t wanted to choose between them, opting to continue dating them both if they were amicable to the idea.

 

Seamus, being as full of himself as he is, agreed straight away figuring that in the end he’d win out over Dean anyway. Dean, however, was not as happy with the current arrangement. Ron suspected that Dean deeply cared for the girl and was hurt by her decision to keep seeing Seamus more than he let on. Ron wondered how it was that even he could see how Dean felt, and Seamus couldn’t. Seam had been Dean’s best mate for the past seven years.

 

Shaking his head at his thoughts, Ron got out of bed and made his way to the bathroom. He had his own problems to think about and couldn’t really spare the time and effort to deal with those of his dorm mates. Even Harry’s.

 

He knew he had hurt Hermione terribly last night. She had been trying to help in the only way she knew how, and he had lashed out at her. It was horribly selfish of him to take out his frustrations on her just because she was handy. He only hoped she would forgive him.

 

Ron finished his shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. He dried his hair off with a second towel as he walked back into the dorm room. Dean and Seamus were no longer there and Ron stopped to look at Harry’s empty bed. He wondered how long it had been since Harry had spent a full night here in the dorm. When he thought back he realized he hadn’t done so since the night before the game against Slytherin.

 

The more he thought about what had happened to Harry, the angrier he got. At himself. If he had only waited for Harry instead of going back to the castle without him. If he’d only been more of a friend and less of a selfish git, maybe Harry would still be *Harry* and not this… this facsimile of him instead. But then, the Harry he knew from before the game was just a different facsimile of the real Harry anyway. He’d lost his best friend at the end of their fifth year, when Harry’d lost Sirius.

 

If Ron could have one wish, just one, he would wish that Sirius had never come to the ministry that night. That he would have stayed behind at Grimmauld Place. If only he was still alive, the last two years would have been much different. Harry wouldn’t be this lost shell of a man, he wouldn’t wear that fake smile and tell everyone he was fine while he was dying inside. He wouldn’t be involved with Draco Malfoy of all people, and he certainly wouldn’t be crawling and begging and acting the whore for him.

 

Ron sighed and sat heavily on his bed. He missed Harry; missed having his best friend around. If he *could* have one wish, he would turn back time.

 

 

Harry was hurting. He supposed he brought this on himself for his little slip-up about Draco, but he was having too much fun watching Snape try to get over his disgust of the whole situation to simply make him forget what he’d heard. Dumbledore had wanted to watch their training session but Harry knew that if the old man had stayed, he would have done something stupid and hurt someone; so he told him to leave.

 

This new ability of his was amazing. He wished he’d found out about it years ago. It certainly would have made living with the Dursleys a lot easier. He wondered how Vernon would like sleeping under the stairs, or how Petunia would enjoy scrubbing the grout in the shower with straight bleach and no gloves. He smiled at the thought of Dudley not being able to eat for days and then throwing up when he was able because his stomach was unused to food being in it. Maybe he’d stop by – one last time – after he graduated.

 

He was in that place just before the pain faded to the background. His blood felt like it was on fire and his bones shattered into a million pieces. He tried to hold onto this feeling as long as he could, knowing that what came next would be all the more satisfying if he did. The longer he held onto the pain, the greater the relief when he transcended it. It was slipping away from him, he grasped at it hoping to hold on for just another second or two but it was too late. It was gone and he only had seconds to bask in the seeming peace before the laughter took over.

 

It started as a low chuckle, a tiny little grin on his face as it burbled forth. But all too soon it was loud and high-pitched and somewhat hysterical. It was that horrible, dreadful sound that made Snape want to run screaming from the room, and the very thought of it only made him laugh more, laugh harder. “What’s the matter, Snape?” Harry managed to ask through his laughter. “Your panties in a bunch?”

 

The look of shock on Snape’s face and the deep red blush that spread to his cheeks only made Harry laugh harder. Severus ended the spell, lowered his wand and left the room in a swirl of black robes. He didn’t even bring Harry the potions he needed to heal.

 

Having been through this once before, Harry knew it would be hours before he was able to move on his own and so he tried to get himself as comfortable as possible while he waited.

 

 

Ron was thankful that weekends were so informal when it came to breakfast and lunch. Having overslept this morning, he would have been shit out of luck for breakfast if it had been a weekday. As it was, he’d missed meeting up with Hermione in the common room, and he wasn’t sure that their plans to go into Hogsmeade were even still on after the way he’d acted last night.

 

He had been a first-class idiot and he deserved whatever punishment she gave him. He only hoped he hadn’t ruined their entire relationship. One of these days, his temper was going to get him into serious trouble.

 

Seeing Hermione sitting at the table, he hesitantly walked toward her and sat down beside her. “Hermione?” he spoke softly, “I’m sorry. I was a complete bastard to you last night and I had no right to take out my bad mood on you. Do you think you could ever forgive me?”

 

As she turned to look at him, Ron’s heart began to beat faster in his chest. The smile she gave him told him everything he needed to know. She forgave him, she loved him, and she understood. “I love you, Herm, I couldn’t stand it if you were angry with me.”

 

“Oh, Ron,” Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. “I love you too, I just wish you would learn to control your temper. You really hurt me with the things you said last night.”

 

Ron lowered his eyes and nodded his head. “I know, I really am sorry, love. I just… Merlin, I’m so fucked up over this whole Harry/Malfoy thing. I feel like one of those muggle things on string – a yoo-yoo, I’m up – I’m down – I’m up again, you know what I mean? It’s just bloody confusing!”

 

Hermione giggled. “It’s a yo-yo, not a yoo-yoo, but yes, I do understand. When I first found out about Harry and Malfoy, I was concerned, but then I saw how happy Harry was and I let myself believe that maybe they were good for each other, I convinced you of it as well, and now… Well, now I don’t know what to think. I don’t understand their relationship at all, but it does bring into perspective those conversations about torture I overheard. I think they might be into some kind of pain-play as well.”

 

Ron turned slightly green at this. “Please don’t say that, Herm. The things I saw last night were bad enough, I don’t want to imagine that Harry lets Malfoy beat him as well.”

 

“Alright, we won’t discuss this – for now – but sooner or later, we’re going to have to confront Harry with what we know. What if he’s gotten himself trapped into something he doesn’t want but doesn’t know how to get out of?”

 

Ron shook his head. “As much as it pains me to say it, I don’t think he wants out of anything. From what we saw last night, Harry looked like he was enjoying every minute of what he was doing. I know Malfoy certainly was.”

 

Hermione agreed, reluctantly, and they decided to leave it alone. If Harry wanted to talk with them about it, he would. In the meantime they would make sure he knew that they were there if he needed them, but they wouldn’t be following him around anymore. They didn’t ever want to see him and Malfoy like that again.

 

“Are we still on for Hogsmeade?” Ron asked.

 

“Just let me get my cloak and we’ll go,” Hermione answered.

 

 

He recognised the sitting room as soon as he’d seen it. He was home. Of all the places for him to be taken to, this was not the one he would have expected. With Lucius in Azkaban, he’d assumed his mother had no further dealings with his father’s associates. Apparently, he’d been wrong.

 

“Draco, darling, are you all right?” his mother asked him as he staggered to his feet. “They didn’t harm you in any way, did they?”

 

Draco smirked. He knew his mother had a temper, he’d seen her vent her spleen on Lucius a few times and the house-elves were positively terrified of her. “Well, they did throw an awful lot of hexes at me, mum. One of them even tried the Medusa curse!” As Narcissa’s eyes narrowed, Draco chuckled in glee. His mum could be quite protective of her only child.

 

“You were *told*,” she hissed as she looked at the two masked and robed men fidgeting on the other side of the room, “that no *harm* was to come to my *son*!”

 

“Bu-but…” one of them spoke before he was immediately cut off by an irate Narcissa.

 

“Turning his hair to snakes? To asps? Did you think that wouldn’t count as *harm* when one of them *bit* him?” she shrieked.

 

“I-It wasn’t us, neither of us,” the other Death eater pleaded. “Please, Lady Malfoy, you have to believe me, it was Jugson, I swear it!” The other Death Eater nodded his head frantically.

 

“Leave us!” Narcissa huffed and turned back to her son. “Draco, it hurts me to do this,” she spoke in a soft motherly voice and then raised her wand. “Incarcerous!”

 

As the ropes shot out from his mother’s wand and bound him, Draco could only stare in wide-eyed disbelief. “Mother? What in Merlin’s name is going on here?”

 

“It’s for your own good, Darling,” his mother cooed. “I’ve received a most disturbing letter, one implying that you’ve been corrupted by that horrible Potter boy. I just know he’s using some form of mind control potion on you, or perhaps the Imperius curse.”

 

Draco goggled. How the hell had his mother found out about him and Harry? Then he realized what she was implying and started to laugh.

 

“Don’t worry darling, mother will make it all better. We’ll bring you before our Lord and he will remove whatever control Potter has over you. Then you will join His service as you were meant to. As your Father and I did.”

 

“You… You’re a Death Eater?” Draco gasped. “I knew father was, but you? Unbelievable!” Draco shook his head in silent wonder. How could he not have known? “Mother,” he spoke softly, “I’m not under Imperius, nor the effects of a mind-control potion. Harry has done nothing to me that I haven’t wanted, I am with him of my own free will. Do you understand, mother? I have no desire to join His service. I will not become a Death Eater; I will not join the losing side. I’m sorry if that’s not what you want to hear. The truth is, I love Harry Potter, and when the final battle is waged, I will fight at his side, not against him.”

 

The resounding crack across his face came as a shock. In all his years, he had never been struck by his mother. “Then you are a weak-willed fool!” Narcissa snarled. “You are just like your father when he was this age. He actually sought to end our betrothal, wanting nothing to do with the Dark Arts, or the Black family. He fancied himself in love with Dorinda Davies, A half-blood Ravenclaw. I believe her family was only three generations away from being Weasleys,” she sniffed with distain. “I straightened him out, and I will make you fall in line as well.”

 

“What the hell did you do to my father?” Draco asked in shock.

 

“It’s amazing the effect that a well placed Imperio can have over another person, Draco. Have you ever experienced it? The total abandon of your reasoning, the desire to just let go and do as your told, the freedom of not having to decide for yourself? It gets easier to give into every time it is cast upon you and in time, you look forward to the escape from your own guilt. The knowledge that dozens have died by your hand, that the blood of innocents stains your flesh. You will get to the point, eventually, that the curse will become a part of you, it will seem like it’s your will that makes you kill, that makes you torture and maim. When that happens, darling, that’s when you’ll belong to me, just like your dear father.”

 

Stunned was not the word to describe what Draco was feeling. His mother, his sweet but sometimes stupid mother, was not only a Death Eater, she was evil on a scale he’d never imagined. His father was under Imperius, and had been for years by the sounds of things and she meant to do the very same thing to him. He had to find a way out of this! ‘Harry,’ he thought desperately, ‘Harry help me, please!’

 

 

‘Harry! Harry help me, please!’

 

Harry heard the panicked voice of his lover as it ripped through his skull. He still lay unmoving on the dungeon floor. His abused body was unresponsive to his commands to move. He needed the potions on the table. Without them, it would be hours before he would be well enough to even sit up, let alone stand. “Draco,” he rasped and forced his hand to lift from the floor. The potions tray rattled on the table and stopped.

 

Harry opened one blood-filled eye and concentrated as hard as he could. The tray moved toward the edge of the table. He drew as much power as he could and commanded the potions to come to him. With relief, he felt the tray make contact with his outstretched hand. “Hang on, love,” Harry whispered as he uncorked the first vial, “I’m coming for you.”

 

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Original Posting Date: Mon, 29 Nov 2004 22:44:11 – 0500 (EST)

 

I put a spell on you Because you’re mine. You better stop the things that you’re doin’. I said Watch out! I ain’t lyin’ – CCR

 

Part 25

 

What little self-control Narcissa still possessed was put to the test as she listened to her son, her only child, confess his love for Harry Potter. There was still a small chance that he was acting under the influence of a potion or a spell, and until that possibility was ruled out, she would not harm him further.

 

“You had better hope, for your sake, Draco, that you are under the Imperius Curse or the effects of a love potion. Otherwise, you won’t like the consequences for your betrayal.” Narcissa summoned a house-elf and then turned back to her son. “I shall contact my Lord now. He will be most interested in seeing you, I think.”

 

Turning to the small cowering house-elf, she addressed it with disdain. “Watch him. If he makes any suspicious moves, incapacitate him and alert me at once.”

 

Draco could only watch in wide eyed fear as his mother left to summon the Dark Lord. “Oh Harry,” he whispered softly, “if by some miracle you can hear me, please hurry.”

 

 

Harry struggled to his feet after consuming the restorative potions. He knew that he should be taking it easy for the next few minutes, but he couldn’t. He could feel Draco’s panic and knew that he had to move, now. He wasn’t sure how it was that he could hear Draco, but he wasn’t looking a gift horse in the mouth. On shaky legs, he began his journey away from the dungeons and up to the main part of the school.

 

 

On her way back to Hogwarts, Ginny saw Ron and Hermione up ahead of her. They were obviously heading into town and she quickened her pace to intercept them. “Hey guys,” she called out cheerfully, “where’s Harry?”

 

Ron fidgeted nervously and Hermione actually blushed a deep red. Ginny blinked in shock and tilted her head in question. “Hello? Anyone going to answer me?”

 

“Er,” Ron began, and then mumbled something under his breath which sounded suspiciously like, “probably off shagging Malfoy“.

 

“Um,” Hermione started to say, then looked at her shoes.

 

Ginny sighed and rolled her eyes. “Let me guess, you guys ditched him so that you could spend the day alone, right? No worries, I’m just heading back to school, so I’ll find him and keep him company. Later!”

 

Leaving her brother and his girlfriend behind, Ginny continued on toward Hogwarts, a huge grin on her face.

 

 

The little elf stood silent and shaking in the corner, it’s huge bulbous eyes never leaving Draco’s form. Draco sighed and wished that he had been nicer to the creatures as a child. Perhaps if he had been, he could bribe the thing with its freedom in exchange for his own.

 

“What would Harry do?” Draco asked himself and then snorted. “Harry wouldn’t be in this position, dummy, he’d have defeated the blasted Death Eaters and not been captured.”

 

“Is sir speaking of Harry Potter?” the little elf squeaked and took a small step forward.

 

Draco whipped his head to look at the small creature. “Yes. Yes I was. Do you know Harry?” he asked, his hopes of escape coming back.

 

The little elf shook it’s head. “Oh, no sir! Nipsy is only hearing of the great Harry Potter, sir. Dobby is going to save Harry Potter, sir, but Dobby is never coming back!”

 

Draco sighed in relief. He just might get out of this alive after all. “Dobby works at Hogwarts now. Harry Potter saved Dobby, tricked Master Lucius into freeing Dobby. I know this because Harry Potter is my friend, he’s my… well, mate, I suppose would be the easiest way to describe it. Do you understand?”

 

The little elf nodded, it’s eyes even wider than normal. “Oh, sir! If this is true, you is in terrible danger! The Missus is calling the mean one, and he wants to hurt Harry Potter. He will be hurting you too, sir. You must leave this place!”

 

“Yes, yes, I must. Harry will come for me if I don’t get away. The Dark Lord will kill Harry if he comes here, do you understand? You have to free me so I can escape and find Harry.” Draco knew that should Harry come here, Voldemort would be the one to die, but seeing as how Harry had no idea he was even in trouble, he highly doubted his lover was going to come charging in to rescue him, hence the lie.

 

“Nipsy will help Master Draco escape,” the elf said and snapped its fingers.

 

Draco smiled as the magical bindings disappeared. “Thank you, Nipsy,” Draco said as he removed his tie and gave it to the wide-eyed elf. “You have done me a great service, in return, I give you your freedom. Go to Hogwarts, find Dobby and ask him to help you.”

 

The elf threw itself at Draco and hugged his knees. “Master is too kind!” it wailed.

 

“Shh! Quiet or you’ll get us both killed!”

 

“Nipsy is sorry, Master, Nipsy is being quiet now.” The elf nodded frantically.

 

“I do believe,” a soft sibilant voice spoke from the doorway, “that it is much too late for that.”

 

Draco’s eyes widened in fear as he took in the horrendous sight of the Dark Lord standing before him. “Oh shit,” he whispered aloud while inside he was screaming: ‘Harry! Oh shit, Harry, Voldemort is here!’

 

 

He stormed through the halls like a man possessed. He had tried, several times, to call out to Draco, to see if his lover could hear him, but to no avail. Whatever connection they had, it seemed it was only one way. He could hear Draco’s thoughts, when they were directed at him, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not send anything back to reassure his lover that he had heard him, that he was coming for him. It also meant that he had no idea of where to look for him.

 

He only knew that Draco had been going to Hogsmeade that morning, and so that was where he was planning to start. He had gotten as far as the entry hall when he was nearly run down by Ginny Weasley. He did not have time for this.

 

“Harry! There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you,” Ginny said as she looped her arm through his. “Did you want to go to Hogsmeade with me? I saw Ron and Hermione earlier; terribly rude of them to ditch you like that. I mean, that’s not the way friends behave, now is it?”

 

Harry took a deep breath and reminded himself that Ginny was only trying to be a good friend to him, that she had no idea what was going on with Draco and he couldn’t hex her to get away from her quicker. Perhaps if he knew what it was she actually wanted he could give it to her and she’d go away.

 

He had been unprepared for what he saw as he delved into her mind. His shock did little to abate his anger however and before even he knew what he was going to do, Ginny’s eyes rolled back in her head and she dropped to the floor. Harry had taken every memory she had from her – everything – essentially leaving her an empty vessel. If he’d had the time, he would have liked to have spent days on her torture, breaking her in ways that would have made Voldemort piss himself in fear.

 

He was sickened beyond belief at the ways in which she had betrayed him. Colin would have to pay for his treachery as well, but he had no time for that now. He knew who had taken his lover now, and he had his suspicions on how to find him. He needed a link to Voldemort, and only one person besides himself had one. Snape.

 

Just as he was about to push open the doors to the Great Hall, Draco’s voice sounded in his head.

 

‘Harry! Oh shit, Harry, Voldemort is here!’

 

 

The only nice thing about Hogsmeade weekends, as far as Snape was concerned, was that most of the annoying brats in the castle were gone for the entire day. He looked forward to lunch in the Great Hall on such days as there was a much quieter atmosphere, and a noticeable lack of Potter, Weasley and Granger. He felt some guilt for leaving Potter in the dungeons, but not enough to go back there and revive him. He had his pride after all, and having Potter know about his predilection for women’s undergarments was not something he was prepared to deal with just yet. If ever. So of course, it was just his luck that Potter should come barrelling through the doors, a look of complete malice on his face, and making his way straight toward him.

 

His life really sucked some days.

 

 

House elves, contrary to what Draco had previously thought, were not stupid. At the first sight of the Dark Lord, Nipsy snapped his fingers and disappeared. Had Draco had possession of his wand, he’d have done the same. “Well, fuck,” he muttered as he realized he was done for.

 

“Draco Malfoy,” Voldemort hissed as he glided across the room toward him. “You disappoint me, young Malfoy.”

 

‘And you disgust me,’ Draco thought to himself, but said nothing.

 

“Your mother tells me that you are involved,” he grimaced, “with Harry Potter. That you profess love, of all things, for him. Is this true?”

 

Draco nodded in affirmation, not able to speak for fear of his voice betraying his thoughts. He couldn’t see how his mother could stand to be in the presence of this foul creature.

 

“You will speak when asked a question young Malfoy,” Voldemort hissed. “Is that understood?”

 

“Yes,” Draco bit out.

 

Voldemort chuckled. “So much like your foolish Gryffindor lover,” he spat. “You will learn to show me respect, Crucio!”

 

It was like a thousand knives piercing his flesh at once. Like his bones were being melted from the inside and his veins filled with molten lava. He tried to hold back, to think of the way his lover dealt with the pain, but his scream tore it’s way through and he dropped to the floor and writhed in agony at the feet of his mother’s master.

 

 

“How do you find him?” Harry demanded as he stopped at the Head table in front of a confused Potions Professor. “Voldemort, when he calls you, how do you know where he is?”

 

“The mark acts like a homing device, why do you ask?” Snape asked in apprehension.

 

“He has Draco. Give me your arm, I’m going after him.”

 

Dumbledore, having shamelessly listened in on the conversation, butted in. “I do not think that is a wise decision, Harry. Surely, as Draco is one of his own, he would not harm him irreparably.”

 

“I didn’t ask for your advice nor your approval,” Harry snarled. “Go to sleep old man, you try my patience.” To the shock of all who heard Harry speak, Dumbledore’s head dropped atop the table and he began to snore. Harry turned back to Snape and reached for his arm.

 

“What are you doing, Potter?” Snape asked as he felt Harry’s magic pervade his skin.

 

“Looking for him.”

 

“How? And what do you plan to do when you find him?”

 

“Easy,” Harry answered. “I’m using your link to trace back to his location. When I get there, I will rescue Draco and kill the sorry bastard for taking what’s mine. The method of death and how quick he receives it will depend solely on Draco’s condition. Found him, he’s at the Malfoy Manor. Why am I not surprised?”

 

“You’ll have to apparate from Hogsmeade. I cannot take down the wards, and the only one who can is currently drooling on his salad fork,” Snape said with some disdain toward the Headmaster.

 

“Wrong. He’s not the only one who can do it,” Harry said and then with a subtle wave of his hand, the wards dropped and Harry Potter disappeared.

 

Snape, for the first time in decades, smiled.

 

 

“Finite,” a soft sibilant voice hissed and Draco curled into a ball and breathed harshly. He had no idea how long he had been held under the curse, but his respect and awe for the strength Harry possessed grew to new heights. “That, young Malfoy, is but a taste of what awaits you should you refuse my proposition.”

 

Draco swallowed the bile rising in his throat. It wouldn’t help him in any way if he were to vomit on the Dark Lord’s shoes. “What,” he croaked out, “what proposition?” Whatever it was, he had no intention of following through with it, his only goal right now was to keep Voldemort talking, and not throwing anymore hexes at him.

 

“You will use your position in Harry’s life to bring him to me.” A foot pressed against his side made him roll onto his back and look up. His eyes locked with the red, beady eyes of the madman standing above him. “If you do not, I will torture you in ways you wouldn’t begin to imagine. You will beg for death and it will not be granted.”

 

“No,” Draco whispered.

 

“No, what?” hissed Voldemort.

 

“No, I will not betray Harry,” Draco spoke and braced himself for the pain which he knew was coming.

 

The distinctive crack of someone apparating into the room had all eyes turning toward the intruder.

 

“Harry!” Draco smiled in relief.

 

“Mister Potter, how very… unexpected,” Voldemort spoke, failing to repress the note of surprise in his voice.

 

Narcissa said nothing and tried to slip away unnoticed. Harry waved his hand toward the door; locking it and thwarting her escape.

 

“You know, Tom, you really fucked up this time,” Harry said conversationally. “Draco, love, are you alright?”

 

“Yeah, I am now,” Draco said and slowly climbed to his feet. “How did you know I was in trouble?”

 

Harry smiled, “I heard you calling to me, love. I got here as fast as I could. Next time, try to include a location as well, yeah?”

 

Draco grinned and shook his head. Harry was amazing. Simply amazing. He looked at Voldemort, and then his mother. “You two are in so much trouble, I almost pity you.”

 

 

Standing by the door of her study, Narcissa watched wide-eyed as Harry Potter apparated into her home. It shouldn’t have been possible for him to get through the wards, but there he stood. There was a distinct possibility, she thought to herself, that Draco was right in his decision to side with Potter and perhaps it was best if she just snuck away quietly. But as her fingers wrapped around the door handle, Potter waved his hand and locked her in.

 

Swallowing in fear, she stood stock still as Potter addressed her Lord by his birth name and told him he had erred. His concern for her son seemed truly genuine, and she was shocked beyond reason to hear that they shared a mind-link as well. It made her wonder what else she didn’t know about her son’s chosen mate. And what her Lord was unaware of as well.

 

Her hopes of playing upon her son’s sympathies and escaping this ordeal relatively unharmed came to an end as she heard him voice his sympathies, or lack thereof. She was, in essence, truly screwed.

 

  Top

Original Posting Date: Sat, 11 Dec 2004 10:55:37 – 0500 (EST)

 

Die, die, die my darling, Don’t utter a single word. Die, die, die my darling, Just shut your pretty eyes, I’ll be seeing you again. Yeah, I’ll be seeing you, in hell. – Metallica

 

Part 26

 

Tension in the Malfoy study was reaching an all-time high as Harry and Voldemort faced off. Harry, looking far too smug for the Dark Lord’s liking, had the audacity to smirk at him and waggle his eyebrows. Voldemort seethed.

 

Draco watched his lover with amusement. He knew that Harry could have Voldemort on the floor in a heap in a matter of seconds if he so chose, and was actually toying with him. His Harry might belong to Gryffindor House, but he was a true Slytherin where it counted.

 

“So,” Harry said as looked Voldemort in the eye, “the way I see it you have two choices, Tom. I can kill you quickly and relatively painlessly, or I can kill you slowly, with much pain on your part and much enjoyment on mine. It all depends on how you answer my question.”

 

“Insolent child!” the Dark Lord hissed in rage, “you dare to speak to me in such a manner?” Voldemort aimed his wand at Harry, “Crucio!”

 

Draco snorted as Harry deflected the curse and shook his head in mock sadness at the Dark Lord. “Really, Tom, you’ll have to do better than that.”

 

For all of his arrogance and belief in his own superiority, Voldemort actually looked afraid as far as Draco could tell. His mother certainly was, he’d never seen her more pale or wide-eyed.

 

“Now, for my question,” Harry said as he waved his hand toward Voldemort and put him in a full body bind and summoned his wand, pocketing it. “And I already know the answer, so don’t bother trying to lie to me, you sorry sack of shite. What were your plans concerning Draco, and what, exactly, did you do to him?”

 

A few moments went by in silence, Voldemort refusing to speak. Harry grinned and stepped closer to the man who had ruined his life, who had murdered his parents, and killed Cedric. The same man who was behind the attack at the ministry that robbed him of his godfather, and the one responsible for his being attacked by his schoolmates. “I was hoping you would resist,” Harry said gleefully. “Crucio,” he whispered and watched as Voldemort’s eyes squeezed shut in pain and his jaw tightened. It only took a few seconds before he began to scream.

 

 

“Ginny!” Colin shrieked as he ran toward the crumpled form of his on-off lover. “Merlin, Gin, what happened to you?” he asked as he lifted her into his arms and hurried toward the hospital wing.

 

“You’ll be alright, Gin, you’ll see,” Colin assured as he quickened his steps. “Pomfrey’ll have you fixed up in no time,” he said, as much to comfort himself as he did her. But when she began to wail like an infant, it was all Colin could do not to drop her in his shock.

 

 

Sitting in the farthest corner of the Three Broomsticks, Ron and Hermione carried on a heated, whispered conversation.

 

“But why can’t we just pretend like we don’t *know* and go on like always, ’Mione, why?” Ron was practically begging at this point. He had been trying to talk Hermione around to his point of view since they’d arrived. She was still all for confronting Harry about his *unhealthy* relationship with Malfoy.

 

“Because, *Ronald*,” she hissed. “We are his friends. His *best* friends, and as such we have a responsibility to look out for his welfare. I’m not saying we should be blunt and tactless,” at this she gave Ron a pointed look, “just that we should sit down and talk like the adults we are supposed to be. If Harry is okay with… whatever it is he’s doing with Malfoy, than fine, we’ll let it be; but what if he isn’t? What if he feels trapped by it and doesn’t know how to get out? What if Malfoy is blackmailing him? What then?” Hermione reached for Ron’s hand and squeezed it gently, “should we just turn our backs on Harry and leave him to deal with this on his own?”

 

Ron, looking thoroughly chagrined, shook his head and sighed. “You’re right, of course, he’d do it for either one of us, we owe him the same. No matter *how* bloody awkward this is gonna be.”

 

Hermione smiled at him and got to her feet. Ron’s eyes bulged and he swallowed nervously. “Now? You want to do this now? Oh, *bloody* hell,” he muttered and reluctantly got to his feet as well. He was not looking forward to this at all.

 

 

“Finite,” Harry muttered and watched disinterestedly as Voldemort crumpled to the floor. He ignored Narcissa’s startled gasp and began circling his prey. “Since you refuse to answer my question, I will tell Draco – and his mother – exactly what it was you planned on doing to him. Once you were done playing with him of course.”

 

Harry turned to face his lover, knowing that if Voldemort had succeeded in his plans, Harry would have been done for. He trusted Draco, and that trust would have been his undoing. “He was planning to put you under Imperius. Once under his control, you would have been sent back to Hogwarts with instructions to behave as normal until the next time we spent the night together. After I fell asleep, you were to snap my wand and slit my throat. You would have been caught and sentenced to death.”

 

Draco gasped and shook his head. “No. I wouldn’t…”

 

“You would have. You have no training in throwing off the curse. We’re going to fix that as soon as we’re done here,” Harry said and then turned back to his victim. “Now, what to do with you?” Harry mused.

 

“Torture him?” Draco suggested with malice. He was beyond pissed at the knowledge that he would have killed Harry and been unable to stop himself.

 

“Yes, but how?” From the corner of his eye, Harry noticed as Narcissa covertly slid her wand into her hand, he held out his own hand and the wand flew into it. He continued on as if nothing had happened. “I was thinking of making you watch a Pauly Shore marathon,” Harry said to Voldemort as he stopped in front of him, “but even *I’m* not *that* cruel.”

 

“Pauly Shore?” Draco asked.

 

“Muggle comedian slash actor. He’s bloody awful, if all muggles were like him, I’d feel inclined to exterminate them myself,” Harry answered with a shudder.

 

“Sounds horrible. Are you sure you’re not cruel enough?” Draco asked with a smirk.

 

“I’m thinking of saving that particular torture for our beloved Potions Master. Sort of a ‘thank you’ for all those hours of Crucio he gave me over the years.” Harry and Draco shared a laugh as Voldemort finally began to recover from his ordeal.

 

“Then Severus was not a traitor,” Voldemort said softly as he struggled to get to his feet.

 

“Au contraire, Tom, he is indeed a traitor; to you at least. To me, however, he is my teacher, my trainer, my torturer, and at the end of the day I guess you could say he is my friend. It is his dedication to me that has made me the man that stands before you, the man who will end your reign of terror once and for all.”

 

Turning to Draco, Harry said, “You feel up to a public appearance, love?”

 

“Where are we going?”

 

Harry smiled his “I’m so evil” smile and Draco practically melted into a puddle of lust. “I thought the four of us should take a little trip to the Ministry to see Fudge. I don’t want to end up in Azkaban for murder after I kill this sorry son of a bitch, so I’m going to have the Minister of Magic himself order me to take his life. In front of witnesses. Then I thought we could have your *dear mum* questioned by the Aurors and see about,” Harry shook his head and chuckled, “I can’t *believe* I’m actually saying this, but I thought we’d see about getting Lucius pardoned of all crimes and freed from Azkaban.”

 

Draco’s smile was almost blinding. “One thing, love,” he said. “Can I fix my hair first?”

 

 

Cornelius Fudge was sitting behind his desk going over the monthly reports from the Heads of Departments when he heard the distinctive crack of someone apparating in. “What in…” he trailed off as none other than Harry Potter, Lord Voldemort, and two Malfoys appeared in front of him.

 

“Minister,” Harry said respectfully, “would you kindly call for the Aurors to come in here? I assure you, no harm will come to anyone, as you can see, I have both Voldemort and the Lady Malfoy magically bound.”

 

Minister Fudge looked as thought he would collapse from shock at any moment, but he shakily reached for the intercom on his desk and relayed the request to his secretary.

 

“Thank you,” Harry said and waited for the questions to come. It didn’t take long.

 

“How… how were you able to apparate into my office? The Ministry has the most complex wards in all of Europe!” Fudge almost shouted.

 

Harry turned to Draco and gave him a wink before replying to the Minister. “I’m Harry Potter, sir; surely you expected this of me?”

 

Draco had to bite his tongue to point of drawing blood to keep from laughing. It was so unlike Harry to use his fame in this way that he couldn’t help but be amused.

 

Fudge spluttered but then composed himself. “Of course, Mr. Potter, but would you mind telling me why you have brought *He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named* into my office? And what has Lady Malfoy to do with this?”

 

Just then, the door burst open and a dozen or so Aurors filed into the room. “Wotcher, Harry!” Tonks called out, “What’re you doing here?” she asked and then took a step back in shock as she saw Voldemort standing silent and bound beside Harry. “Is that, you know, *him*?” she asked.

 

Harry nodded. “Hello, Tonks, everyone,” Harry nodded at the others. “As you can see, I have brought Lord Voldemort with me today. The reason being is that I wanted to ask our illustrious Minister what *exactly* he would like me to do with him. You see, there is this prophecy that states that one of shall die at the hand of the other, and well, I’m rather fond of living but at the same time I don’t wish to spend my remaining years in Azkaban for murder. So if I have the Minister’s permission, and assurance I will not be penalized in any fashion, I will fulfill my destiny and rid the world of old Voldie here, but if I’m not given these assurances, then I’ll just leave him here for the law to take care of,” Harry finished off with a shrug.

 

As one, every head in the room turned to look at the ashen face of the Minister. “Kill him,” Fudge bit out, and a collective sigh was heard throughout the room. Harry and Draco both chuckled.

 

“And I have your assurance – in front of all these witnesses – that I won’t be punished?” Harry pressed.

 

“Yes, yes,” Fudge nodded. “Just get on with it, boy!”

 

Harry’s eyes flashed in rage momentarily. “Do not *ever* call me *boy*, Minister,” Harry warned. “Oh, one other thing, could the Aurors all please step back against the walls and have your wands out and at the ready?” Harry watched as one by one they obeyed his orders, he turned to Draco and waggled his eyebrows. Draco shook his head and grinned at his lover’s teasing.

 

Harry locked eyes with Voldemort and commanded him to call his minions to him. “Get ready everyone, in about a minute, this room is going to start filling up with Death Eaters,” Harry told the others.

 

 

“What,” Crabbe Sr. asked for the tenth time as he aimed his wand at his quivering, crying son, “were you doing defending Malfoy against us?”

 

Vincent shook his head and closed his eyes, readying himself for yet another round of Crucio. He couldn’t tell, no matter how much he wanted to. He was only thankful that his father was not a skilled Legilimens.

 

“Boy, I will not ask you agai…” Crabbe trailed off as his mark began to burn. “My Lord calls. You will stay here until I return, is that clear, Vincent?”

 

Vince nodded, relief pouring through him at the unexpected reprieve. “Yes, sir.”

 

As soon as Crabbe Sr. apparated away, Vince was on his feet and heading for the door. With any luck, he could catch the Knight Bus back to Hogsmeade and throw himself on Dumbledore’s mercy before his father knew he had gone.

 

 

It was almost too easy, Harry thought as the Aurors took down the Death Eaters one by one as they apparated into the room. Fudge was livid at the fact that Harry had taken down the Ministry’s wards but wisely kept his tongue in check.

 

As the last of Voldemort’s supporters were bound and led away, Harry shrugged his shoulders, stepped up to the Dark Lord and touched him very lightly between the eyes with the tip of his finger. “Avada Kedavra,” he whispered and watched with a cold expression as the lifeless form of Tom Riddle sagged in its bindings.

 

It was over, finally, after all these years of fighting, and training, and worrying, and losing friends and loved ones. Tom Riddle was gone. A weight lifted from Harry’s soul and he turned a blinding smile on his lover and held out his hand to him. Draco came to him in an instant and took him into his arms. “It’s over, Harry,” he whispered to him. “You’re free.”

 

“I am,” Harry replied, “but Lucius is still imprisoned.” Turning to Fudge, Harry regarded the man with a cold smile on his face. “I have done as you asked, Minister, and now I would ask that you grant me a favour.”

 

Fudge looked as though he would refuse and Harry narrowed his eyes and made him change his mind. “Of course, Mr. Potter. May I call you Harry?”

 

At Harry’s nod of acceptance, Fudge continued. “What favour could I grant you, Harry?”

 

“Lucius Malfoy,” Harry said with a grin as Fudge’s face paled and he blinked in shock. “He is innocent of all crimes. His wife, Narcissa Malfoy, formerly Narcissa Black, has kept him under Imperius since the age of seventeen. I would like you to have her questioned under Veritaserum, in front of the Wizengamot. Then, I would like Lucius to be released from Azkaban and treated for extensive use of the Imperius.”

 

Fudge’s eyes widened in shock and he looked at the impassive face of Narcissa Malfoy. Surely this fragile looking woman could have done no such thing, but then, he did owe Potter for ridding them of the Dark Lord and it would be a very simple request to fulfil. “Very well. I shall call a hearing for later this week…”

 

“Now, Minister. You will call for the hearing immediately,” Harry suggested, using his powers of persuasion on the man.

 

“Yes, yes, of course. The meeting will be called for immediately. Please, make yourselves comfortable, I’ll be only a moment.”

 

As Fudge made the arrangements for the hearing, Draco wrapped his arms around Harry and kissed him softly before whispering in his ear. “Do you have any idea how hot you are when you control people? I’m so hard for you right now I want you to take me right here in the Minister’s office. On his desk even.”

 

Harry groaned softly and let his head fall forward onto Draco’s shoulder. “Draco,” he whined softly. “Don’t say things like that. I might just give into temptation and bend you over his desk and fuck you ’til you scream.”

 

Luckily for Fudge, he interrupted their hushed conversation before his desk got defiled. “The meeting will be held in fifteen minutes. Lucius is being transported from Azkaban to a holding cell here in the building. The Wizengamot members are on their way and Professor Snape is accompanying Headmaster Dumbledore to administer the Veritaserum. We shall have the truth within the hour.”

 

Harry and Draco exchanged smiles and sat down to wait. Soon, everything would be finished. Voldemort was dead, Lucius would be free, Narcissa would be incarcerated, and he and Draco could return to school, slip down to the Chamber, and… celebrate.

 

Tomorrow, he would take care of his unfinished business with Colin and the remaining Slytherins.

 

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Original Posting Date: Wed, 12 Jan 2005 01:02:04 – 0500 (EST)

 

I feel irrational, so confrontational. To tell the truth I am getting away with murder. It is impossible to never tell the truth. But the reality is I’m getting away with murder – Papa Roach

 

Part 27

 

“Merlin, Harry,” Draco panted between kisses as they stood, half-hidden in a secluded alcove on their way Myrtle’s Bathroom. “I can’t believe it’s finally over.”

 

“Believe it, love, the fucker will never mess with me and mine again” Harry growled as he dove back in to kiss him again.

 

Draco moaned as Harry’s lips trailed down to his neck and gasped as blunt teeth sunk into his flesh. “We really,” he grunted as Harry’s hips drove into his, pressing him further against the wall, “need to get someplace more – oh yes, do that again – more private.”

 

Harry thrust himself against the writhing blonde once more before pulling away swiftly and practically dragging Draco down the hall. Draco would have giggled if he wasn’t so turned on himself. Harry had been so fucking hot back at the Ministry. The way he’d taken charge of Fudge, killed Voldemort with a whisper, had his father released from prison and his mother taken into custody. It was all Draco could do to keep from throwing Harry down and ravishing him. Or begging Harry to ravish him instead. The idea of being bent over the Minister’s desk while Harry took him from behind flashed into his mind and he moaned softly as his body responded to the stimulus.

 

Draco was brought out of his sexual thoughts by a loud, anguished groan from his lover.

 

“Nooooo. Not now, why now?” Harry whined as he saw Ron and Hermione coming toward them. Draco could only groan his agreement as his aching cock throbbed in his trousers.

 

“Harry! Where the hell have you been, mate?” Ron hollered. “Something’s happened to Ginny, she’s been taken to St. Mungo’s. I think someone must have cursed her on her way back from Hogsmeade.”

 

Draco looked at Harry with a raised eyebrow. Harry smirked and then turned back to his friends. “I had some business to take care of with Fudge. I’m sure you’ll be hearing all about it at dinner; Dumbledore is making an announcement.” Harry grabbed Draco’s hand and began walking again. “If you’ll excuse us, we were on our way somewhere when you interrupted us.”

 

Hermione and Ron both stood with their mouths hanging open as Harry walked past them; Draco in tow. “But, Harry,” Ron called uncertainly, “Don’t you even care that Ginny’s been hurt?”

 

“No, Ron. I don’t,” Harry answered without looking back. He knew he should have acted concerned, but he really wasn’t in the mood. All he wanted was some time alone with his lover, he’d had a hell of a bad day.

 

 

If Harry and Draco had bothered to go to the Great Hall for the evening meal, they would have heard Dumbledore give a short, but to the point elucidation on the downfall of Lord Voldemort. They would also have been there to see the riot that broke out almost immediately following.

 

Students from every house were dancing on tables, people were laughing, crying, hugging and kissing. Pansy and Neville met in the middle of the room, and not even bothered by who was looking, flew into a passionate embrace.

 

Ron and Hermione exchanged bewildered expressions and as one, got up and left the Hall. Both were very confused as to why Harry didn’t tell them what had happened when they’d seen him. He wasn’t acting like their Harry at all any more. First he blew off Ron’s concern for Ginny, then he didn’t tell them that Voldemort was finally gone for good. He just took off. With Malfoy.

 

“Ruddy Malfoy,” Ron grumbled as they made the silent trek back to Gryffindor. “It has to be something he’s done to him. Harry would never act like this on his own, ‘Mione. He wouldn’t.”

 

“I know, Ron,” Hermione answered with a sigh. “But really, he hasn’t been the same since Sirius died. What happened to him this year has only made a bad situation worse. I can’t believe I’m actually saying this, but if Malfoy hadn’t been the catalyst, someone or something else would have been. It’s time we face facts, Harry is not the same boy we knew. He’s grown, and changed, and like it or not, we have too.”

 

“What are you saying, Hermione? That there’s nothing we can do about it, that this is just how he is now and we have to deal with it? That I have to accept the fact that my best mate doesn’t give a rat’s arse about my sister, or me and you, or anyone else that isn’t Draco Bloody Malfoy?” He finished, practically screaming.

 

“Yes, Ron. That’s exactly what I’m saying. Our Harry is gone. He has been for a long time. The thing is, while he was still acting like a shadow of the boy we knew and loved, we were content to just accept it. We put on our brave Gryffindor masks and pretended everything was fine for so long that we actually began to believe it was.” Hermione shook her head sadly. “Ron, Harry’s been sleepwalking through the better part of the past two years. Now he’s awake, and dealing with things that we don’t fully understand. He’s made choices – some of which I absolutely abhor, but they are his choices. He chose Malfoy. We have to respect that and let it be. It doesn’t mean he’s not our friend, just that we aren’t as close as we once were.”

 

Ron scratched his head and grimaced. “But what if Malfoy’s corrupted him? You saw the kind of relationship they have, the power Malfoy has over him, what if Harry becomes the next You-Know-Who? What then?”

 

Hermione shivered. “Then Merlin help us all, Ron, because we are well and truly buggered.”

 

 

Severus Snape was packing. His life was his own again for the first time in twenty years. No more Dark Lord to bow down to, no more Order to spy for. Harry Potter had killed Voldemort and in doing so had set him free. He would finish off the term – two weeks wasn’t that long of a wait after twenty years – and then he was getting as far away from Scotland, Hogwarts, and students as he possibly could.

 

Chuckling to himself as he shrunk his books and put them away, he shook his head at the idea that it was the abduction of Draco Malfoy that finally pushed Potter over the edge. He had been shocked to learn they were more than friends, but seeing the way things turned out, he was rather happy about the entire thing now.

 

Although, he wondered how Lucius would take it when he got out of St. Mungo’s. Draco was his only Heir, and being with Potter would do nothing to carry on the Malfoy line. But then, being with Draco would do nothing to carry on Potter’s line either. Perhaps it was best that both lines die out where they now stood. Potter was too powerful to pass on his blood, and the Malfoy name was finally redeemed in the eyes of the wizarding world. It would be best if the name was remembered as being tied to the light instead of the darkness.

 

 

They’d barely made it out of their clothes before they were upon each other. Biting kisses and rough hands. Soft moans and louder groans filled the chamber as Harry lowered Draco to the silk sheets and set upon him with a single minded ferocity. There was no time for drawn out foreplay – not this time – that would come later, when the need for release wasn’t so great.

 

“Oh, Merlin, Harry,” Draco groaned as Harry blew a puff of hot air over his leaking crown. “If you don’t suck me I’m going to die.”

 

“Can’t have that,” Harry chuckled and took him into his mouth.

 

Between panting breaths and sharp exclamations, Draco managed to convey his need to taste Harry as well and Harry swung around on the bed so he could accommodate his lover’s wishes. With the first swipe of hot, wet tongue on his needy flesh he cried out and then swallowed Draco’s prick down to the root. He knew he wouldn’t last long and wanted to take Draco with him.

 

For less than a minute the only sounds in the room were wet, slurping noises interspersed with low, pleasured growls. Finally, after hours of waiting, their climaxes hit and twin groans rang out as they both emptied themselves into the waiting mouth of the other.

 

Harry crawled up the bed and fell into Draco’s arms, practically purring in contentment. “I almost lost you today,” he whispered before pressing a soft kiss to Draco’s mouth. “I lay in that dungeon, unable to move after Snape left, and I heard you calling out to me. I felt your fear, and I couldn’t move.” Harry shuddered as he remembered how helpless he had felt in those moments. “It nearly killed me, but I managed to summon the potions I needed. All I could think of was that I had to get to you. I had to save you. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost you, Draco,” Harry confessed and snuggled into his lover.

 

Draco tightened his arms around Harry and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “But you didn’t lose me, love. You saved me. You did the impossible, you found me, you broke through the Manor wards, you tortured Voldemort for daring to touch me... Harry, if I had killed you, I would have AK’ed myself. I couldn’t live knowing that I killed you, even if it hadn’t been my fault.”

 

The two lovers held each other in silence for a long time before Draco broke it. “Harry? How did you find me?”

 

“Ginny Weasley,” Harry answered softly. “After leaving the dungeons, I ran into her in the Entry Hall. She was yammering on about something or other and I just wanted to get away from her – get to Hogsmeade to try and find you – and I wanted to find out what she wanted as quickly as possible, so I looked into her mind. She saw everything, Draco. The Death Eaters, Crabbe fighting them with you. She hid beside a building and watched as they took you away and she wasn’t going to say anything.”

 

“Bitch,” Draco mumbled.

 

“I was so angry,” Harry continued. “I wanted to know what else she was hiding – if she knew anything that might tell me where you were. She didn’t, but the things I did find out...” Harry trailed off and shuddered. “She betrayed me in ways I never thought possible. She and Colin have been sleeping together for two years now and every time they’ve used a polyjuice potion. Guess who’s face Creevy wears when he shags her?”

 

Draco gasped and his eyes widened. “That arse-faced little twat, when I see him, I’ll hex him so bad his own mother won’t recognise him!” Draco fumed.

 

“Good idea, I think I’ll help,” Harry added bitterly.

 

“Draco dropped another kiss on Harry’s head and stroked his hand soothingly up and down Harry’s back. “So, whatever happened to the Weaslette, I assume that was your doing?”

 

“Yeah. She’s lucky I was in a hurry. Her punishment was swift and painless.”

 

“What did you do?”

 

“She took my image and used it for her own selfish gain, so I took everything from her. Everything. She has the mind of a newborn infant. She’s perfectly capable of learning how to do things again, but like an infant, it will take years before she will have the knowledge she possesses now.”

 

Draco made a low whistling sound through his teeth and nodded his approval. “Good. I wish I could have done that when it happened to me.”

 

Harry sat up in shock and looked down at his lover with wide eyes. “You’ve been the victim of polyjuice too?”

 

Draco chuckled and nodded his head. “Slytherins really are pervy sods, Harry. Last year, I walked into an old classroom in the dungeons to see myself... well, fucking myself. While the fifth, sixth, and seventh year Slytherin girls watched. And a few of the boys as well. Very disturbing.”

 

“Fucking hell,” Harry whispered, almost shocked beyond words.

 

“Yeah, that about sums up my thoughts at the time. But enough about that. Tell what happened after you finished with Weasley.” Draco prompted.

 

“I went into the Hall and questioned Snape about the Dark Mark. Dumbledore tried to convince me to let you be so I put him to sleep, then I used Snape’s connection to Voldemort to figure out where he was, broke the wards on the school, and went to get you. You know what happened after that.”

 

“My hero,” Draco said with a smile and kissed Harry deeply.

 

When the kiss ended, Harry looked Draco right in the eye and with all the seriousness he could muster, said, “Draco, I love you. I love you so damn much I thought I would die when I realized you were gone. I would have torn the entire world to the ground in order to find you if that’s what it took. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but I was afraid of losing you. Voldemort always took the ones I loved, but now that he’s gone, I can say it. I love you.” Harry punctuated his statement with a kiss.

 

“I love you.”

 

Kiss.

 

“I love you.”

 

Kiss.

 

“I love you.”

 

The kiss that followed that time lasted for several minutes before Draco eased away from it and wrapping his long legs around Harry’s waist, said, “Show me.”

 

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Original Posting Date: Wed, 12 Jan 2005 20:05:32 – 0500 (EST)

 

This is the end. Beautiful friend. This is the end. My only friend, the end – The Doors

 

Part 28

 

It had been exactly one month since the rather anti-climactic defeat of Voldemort. The wizard-world in general had gone back to it’s normal existence, almost as if there had never been a threat in the first place. Harry’s fears of fame had been put to rest as there was no mention of a “Harry Potter Day” or other such rot.

 

Lucius Malfoy was currently undergoing intensive therapy at St. Mungo’s for his extended exposure to the Imperius. Narcissa was scheduled to receive the Dementor’s kiss the very next day, and Harry and Draco had taken up residence in Draco’s childhood home; Malfoy Manor.

 

The entire contents of Slytherin’s Study had been emptied and moved into the Manor with Harry and Draco. Harry didn’t trust that someone else wouldn’t stumble upon the room at some point so he’d taken everything with him.

 

Plans had been made to remodel the wizarding world over the next ten years, slowly, so as not to arouse suspicion. There would be changes to the educational system – muggle-born children would have to be brought up to speed before being integrated into classes with the children born to wizard families. Any muggle-born wanting to return to the muggle world after Hogwarts would be Obliviated and have their magic suppressed as a safety measure. Draco had a lot of ideas on how to improve their society and Harry was more than willing to listen to them.

 

Pansy and Neville had sent them an invitation to their wedding, it was planned for later that summer. Neville had asked Harry to be his best man. Harry had teasingly suggested to Draco that he’d make a lovely bridesmaid. He had been tackled and then tickled until his sides hurt for it.

 

Life, as far as Harry was concerned, was grand. Well, other than the fact that he’d not spoken to Ron or Hermione since the day after Voldemort was killed.

 

To say that things with Ron and Hermione had changed would be an understatement. They just couldn’t understand Harry anymore, he had changed from the boy they once knew, and he was fine with it. They weren’t. He wondered sometimes, how either of them would have coped had they been forced to endure the things he had. He doubted they would have survived at all, let alone done so as well as he had. Then again, he had Draco to get him through the worst of it.

 

Draco had been there for him every step of the way since that first night after the Quidditch game. He’d held him through his tears, talked him through his fears, offered opinions and advice on everything from revenge to politics to fashion and never once complained about Harry’s reluctance to cross that last barrier between them; allowing Draco to take him.

 

He was still amazed at the patience and depth of feeling the other man had for him. He never would have associated Draco Malfoy with understanding the concept of love, let alone feeling it for another human being.

 

The days that followed the end of the war-that-never-really-started, saw Harry and Draco tying up loose ends on many different fronts. Greg Goyle had been restored to his former masculinity; a thing which pleased him greatly. Vincent Crabbe had turned up at the gates of the School – having been dropped off by the Knight Bus – and begged Dumbledore for asylum. He’d told him everything he knew about the Death Eaters, his father, the other Slytherin initiates, and his torture at his father’s hands. Of course he refused to say why his father had tortured him. The fact that all of the Death Eaters had already been reprehended by the Aurors made Vinceís confession basically useless though.

 

If it weren’t for the fact that Vince had helped Draco fight off his attackers in Hogsmeade, Harry would have... convinced... the authorities to put Crabbe away in Azkaban as well. He was still considering it, truth be told.

 

Nott had been found comatose in the front room of his house by his mother. Unfortunately for him, Nott’s father had been a skilled Legilimens.

 

The last Quidditch match of the season had been cancelled due to the fact that Slytherin was without two of it’s players. Almost everyone was okay with it, other than Ron of course. Harry didn’t care as he had no intention of playing anyway. Draco didn’t care either as it would have been too easy a victory for him without Harry playing.

 

The Weasleys were beside themselves with worry over Ginny. The healers at St. Mungo’s were dumbfounded. No one had ever seen anything like Ginevra Weasley before. They could find nothing wrong with her physically or mentally other than the fact that she seemed to know absolutely nothing. The Legilimens medi-wizard on staff said going into her mind was like peering into a void. There was just nothing there, he had given the family hope though by telling them that he didn’t see any reason why she couldn’t be re-taught. It would take years however to get her back to the point she was at before the incident.

 

Harry hoped she became a better person next time around. He would never forgive her for the way she had used and betrayed him. Which led him to his remembrances of Colin Creevy.

 

 

It was the day after Harry’s defeat of Voldemort and Dumbledore had suspended classes in celebration. Most of the students had ventured outside to enjoy the weather, play games, or simply sit by the lake in groups and hang out. Hermione and Ron were with the rest of the Weasleys at St. Mungo’s and Draco was in the dungeons catching up with Snape. Harry wanted to stay in bed with Draco all day, but he knew he needed to deal with Colin sooner than later and so after checking the Marauders Map, had made his way down to Colin’s room.

 

As Harry walked into the sixth year boys dorm, he saw Colin curled up in his bed. He knew that the younger boy had begged off when the other Gryffs invited him to participate in a friendly game of Quidditch out on the pitch. It was the perfect time to talk to him, to find out why he had done what he did.

 

“Colin,” Harry spoke, making the boy on the bed sit up in alarm.

 

“H-Harry? What are you doing here?”

 

“I came to talk to you, see, I recently learned a few things from Ginny Weasley. Thing having to do with you and her and the use of my hair in a polyjuice potion.” Harry crossed his arms over his chest. “I want to know why you did it, Colin. Was it because it was the only way Ginny would have you, or was it something else? What possible reason could you have for exploiting me like that?”

 

“I-I wanted to know what it was like to be you,” Colin whispered. “To feel important, and famous. I wanted to be someone for once in my life, not the creepy little kid with the camera who follows Harry Potter around.” Colin looked up at Harry with such sadness in his eyes. “Can’t you understand that?”

 

“Important? Famous? Is that all you really see when you look at me, Colin? Do you not see the way I’ve suffered? How people around me died just because they happened to know me, because I happened to love them? Did I ever ask to be famous, to have the entire wizarding world breathing down my neck and speculating about every little thing I’ve ever done?”

 

“Er, no, but come on, Harry! Who wouldn’t want to be The-Boy-Who-Lived! Even for an hour?” Colin asked.

 

Harry sighed. “You just don’t get it do you? I guess I’ll have to show you that there is more to being Harry Potter than getting your picture in the Prophet and having bullshit articles written about you.”

 

Leaning down until he was face to face with the younger boy, Harry whispered to him, “You’re going to be sorry you ever wished to be me,” and with that said, Harry delved into Colin’s mind, giving him the worst memories he could think of.

 

Waking up in a small dark room, body wracked with sobs from the unending nightmares he suffered and knowing that no one was going to come to comfort him. Of falling down and skinning his knee and having his cousin laugh at him and then kick him in the head. Of burning himself on the stove element while trying to cook breakfast because he was only a child and far too small to reach the switches properly.

 

Colin whimpered in protest, but Harry was relentless. He pushed the memories in faster. Christmas mornings watching Dudley open gifts while he received nothing at all – or even worse, having his hopes raised by actually getting a gift and have it turn out to be a pair of his Unclesí old socks, or a scrap of newspaper. Birthdays that went by not only uncelebrated, but unnoticed as well. Not being able to make friends at school because his cousin was a bully and told the other kids that Harry was a freak and if they hung out with him then they’d be freaks too and he would beat them up.

 

Harry smiled almost viciously when he began to put his memories of the wizarding world into Colin’s head. Almost falling off his broom – so sure that Professor Snape was trying to kill him. Fluffy and the trapdoor, the tasks he had to complete to get to the stone, and seeing Voldemort that first time on the back of Quirrel’s head. How he had been forced to become a murderer at the tender age of eleven in order to save his own life.

 

Second year how everyone was afraid of him and talked about him behind his back. How he thought he was going mad because he heard voices in the walls. Ginny Weasley and the sixteen year old version of Voldemort down in the Chamber of Secrets. Fighting the basilisk and knowing that he was going to die when it bit him.

 

Third year hadn’t yet begun but he was running away from home after blowing up his Uncle’s sister Marge. Being stuck at Hogwarts because Sirius Black was after him. Dementors, and the Slytherins harassing him. Finding out that Sirius was innocent, and his godfather, and still having to live with the Dursleys because Siri was a fugitive.

 

Fourth year and the Tri-wizard Tournament. Having his best friend stop talking to him over something that wasn’t his fault. The Slytherins teasing him constantly. Grabbing the trophy with Cedric and being pulled away. Kill the spare, and Cedric’s body falling to the ground. Crucio and fear and cutting and blood. Chained and helpless, watching Voldemort reborn from the cauldron; knowing it was his blood that allowed it to happen.

 

Fifth year, Voldemort in his head. Visions and possession. Occlumency with Snape. The Department of Mysteries and the Prophecy. Ron and Hermione hurt, his friends battling with Death Eaters, Lucius Malfoy pointing his wand at him. Bellatrix and Sirius, Sirius falling through the veil.

 

Sixth year, training with Dumbledore and Snape. Order missions are discovered, Lupin is missing. Moody and Tonks coming to Hogwarts to tell him. Ron and Hermione getting together, Harry feeling left behind. Christmas at the Burrow and falling fast and hard for Charlie Weasley. Coming back to school feeling happier than he had in months only to have it all fall apart with one simple letter; Charlie had broken things off because Harry was just too high risk.

 

Seventh year and his break up with Oliver Wood. Finding out about his Mother’s actual lineage, and how much power he truly held. Crucio, over and over. Pain, blinding, bone-melting, eye-popping pain. Being raped with his broomstick unable to defend himself because Dumbledore ordered him to keep his powers a secret. Nightmares and fear of being touched. Sleeping down in the Chamber because he didn’t feel safe in his own room. Slamming Dean against the wall and stunning Seamus because they snuck up on him, running through the castle, across the grounds and into the tunnel beneath the Whomping Willow.

 

By the time Harry withdrew, Colin possessed every bad memory Harry had ever lived through. Harry had locked the knowledge into Colin’s mind and left the boy shaking and crying on his bed.

 

 

As Harry shook off the memories, he felt Draco stir in his arms and placed a soft kiss on the back of his lover’s neck. He felt Draco shiver in response and grinned before doing again.

 

“Good morning, love,” Draco said softly as he turned over to face Harry.

 

“Good morning to you too,” Harry replied, slipping his finger into Draco’s mouth and giving him a freshening charm before leaning in and capturing his lips in a long, slow kiss.

 

When they pulled apart, breathless and smiling, Draco propped himself up on one elbow and regarded Harry with scrutiny. “So, what do you want to do today?”

 

Harry grinned and trailed a finger down Draco’s chest suggestively. Draco chuckled.

 

“Alright, what do you want to do after that?”

 

Well,” Harry said as he pulled Draco down on top of him and draped one leg over his lover’s hip, “I suppose now that we’ve spent our official ‘one month in bed together’, we probably should take that shopping trip we never got around to.”

 

Draco’s eyes lit up and he kissed Harry soundly. “That is a brilliant idea! I’m so glad I thought of it.”

 

“Prat,” Harry said with a smile before drawing Draco’s lips to his own once again.

 

It was several hours before they left the room.

 

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The End

 

 

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