
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11302554.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con,
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Draco_Malfoy/Harry_Potter, Lucius_Malfoy/Narcissa_Black_Malfoy, Remus
      Lupin/Nymphadora_Tonks
  Character:
      Draco_Malfoy, Harry_Potter, Nymphadora_Tonks, Ron_Weasley, Hermione
      Granger, Neville_Longbottom, Pansy_Parkinson, Vincent_Crabbe, Gregory
      Goyle, Tom_Riddle_|_Voldemort, Severus_Snape, Narcissa_Black_Malfoy,
      Lucius_Malfoy
  Additional Tags:
      Slash, Male_Slash, Male_Homosexuality, Gay_Male_Character, Mates, True
      Mates, Bondage_and_Discipline, Heavy_BDSM, Dom/sub, Voyeurism, Marking,
      Come_Marking, Anal_Sex, Anal_Fingering, Anal, Past_Child_Abuse, Child
      Abuse, Sexual_Slavery, Slavery, Sex_Toys, Improvised_Sex_Toys, Violence,
      Sexual_Violence, Blood_and_Violence, Rape/Non-con_Elements, Rape, Past
      Rape/Non-con, Attempted_Rape/Non-Con, Adopted_Harry_Potter, Adopted
      Harry, Bottom_Harry, Sub_Harry, Powerful_Harry, Top_Draco_Malfoy, Good
      Draco_Malfoy, Alpha/Beta/Omega_Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alpha_Draco_Malfoy,
      Attempted_Murder, Murder, Death, Minor_Character_Death, Near_Death
      Experiences, Gryffindor_Draco_Malfoy, Gryffindor_Harry_Potter, Soul_Bond,
      Telepathic_Bond, Pack_Bonding, Family_Bonding, Mating_Bond, Homophobia,
      Bullying, Powerful_Draco_Malfoy, Body_Modification, Genderfluid
      Character, Crossdressing_Harry, Crossdressing_Kink, Oral_Sex, Rough_Oral
      Sex, Oral_Fixation, Non-Consensual_Oral_Sex, Rimming, Fisting, Anal
      Fisting, Bloodplay, Blood_and_Gore, Blood, Blood_Drinking, Love_Bites,
      Mating_Bites, Moving_Tattoo(s), Tattoos, Magical_Tattoos, Breathplay,
      Collars, Ownership, Fetish, Shota, Chan, Protective_Draco, Psychic
      Abilities, Psychic_Bond, Spanking, Non-Consensual_Spanking, Whipping,
      Child_Soldiers, Yaoi
  Series:
      Part 2 of Freedom_Series
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-06-25 Updated: 2018-03-30 Chapters: 26/? Words: 172958
****** Freedom Found in Defiance ******
by Sensiblytainted
Summary
     Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter have had a three-fold twin bond since
     the age of six. They are back in the Wizarding World and ready for
     Hogwarts, but is Hogwarts ready for them? Harry, abused by the
     Dursleys and sold into slavery, had nearly become an Obscurus. Draco,
     stolen as a baby and then kidnapped, grew up a sex-slave. Magically
     powerful, Draco is ready to take on anyone who gets in his way of
     protecting Harry and stopping the Dark Lord. An equally powerful
     Harry is determined to take care of Draco.
***** Summer Before Hogwarts *****
A/N:This is the sequel to Freedom Bound in Chains. If you want to understand
what led to the circumstances and personalities of the characters in this
story, please read FBiC first. However, it is very dark and details the trauma
and abuse suffered by both Harry and Draco. A brief summary of FBiC is as
follows:
Draco was stolen as a baby from his DeathEater family only to be abducted again
four years later and turned into a sex-slave on the Muggle blackmarket. The
Dursleys sell an abused Harry to the same group when he’s five years old.
Brought together, the boys form a magical bond, escape to live with a Muggle
who is caught up in the mob, and eventually get discovered by the Magical
world. However, neither world considers them normal: Draco has been forged into
an Alpha while Harry finds freedom in submission. This is the story of how
Harry becomes bonded to Draco Malfoy and a ward of the Malfoy family.
I will do my best to make Freedom Found in Defiance stand alone. I will refer
to events from FBiC, but I will try to do so in a way that it is still
understandable to those who have not read the first story.
xXx
FREEDOM FOUND IN DEFIANCE
Warning:This story will cover topics such as: Child Abuse, Sexual Abuse,
Homophobia, Slash (male/male relationships), Shota/Chan (children together
sexually), Alpha/Omega, BDSM, Ownership/Claiming, Body Modification, Bullying,
Violence, Death/Murder, Toys, Voyeurism, Rape, Cross-Dressing, Gender Fluid
characters, and other sensitive topics. Please be aware of this BEFORE reading.
If such topics are triggers to you, please don’t read. I welcome any feedback
but only in regards to making my writing and/or story better. Please don’t send
me verbal abuse because I write about dark topics that I feel need to be
addressed. I, in no way, endorse child abuse or pedophilia. 
xXx
May 1st, 1991
Draco walked across an empty room. His feet sank into the plush carpet at his
feet. All was quiet, all was still. He walked toward a dark window. There was
nothing beyond it. Just as he was about to touch the glass it seemed to melt.
Draco’s heart began to beat harder as he stepped through to the other side. 
He was standing in a white room: the floor in white tile, the white walls bare,
the white ceiling flat above his head. It was like standing in a large, white
box. In the far right corner there was a large pile of something covered with a
stark white sheet. It formed a type of lumpy pyramid as tall as Draco at its
highest point. His lungs began to scream; he couldn’t draw a single breath.
With a shaking hand, he reached forward and pulled the sheet away from the
pile.
At first his brain didn’t register what he was seeing. Then with a feeling of a
knife tearing through his gut, he recognized arms, legs, and heads. Dead
bodies… dead children… a pile of corpses as tall as he was. 
He was screaming now. Screaming like the whole world was ending. He grabbed
hold of a limp, cold arm and pulled. Harry’s dead body tumbled from the pile,
green eyes faded… staring… empty. 
Wailing, Draco collapsed to his knees as his whole world crumbled around him.
He pulled Harry’s lifeless body to his chest as he sobbed. Harry’s skin was
waxy and cold… repulsive. The smell was nearly overpowering. As Draco looked
down at the body in his arms, the corpse’s head fell limp at an unnatural
angle. Harry was dead and never coming back…
Draco sat up, drenched in sweat, heart thundering in his chest, tears streaming
from his wild eyes. Cool hands touched his wet cheeks and Draco flinched, a sob
rising in his throat. 
“Shhh…” a sweet voice soothed him. “I’m okay… I’m here, Draco… Yours…”
Draco whimpered as his eyes focused. The room was shrouded in shadows, the sun
not yet risen, but he could just make out Harry with his bright green eyes and
messy black hair sitting next to him in their bed. He slowly released the
painful grip he had on Harry’s thin wrist and flung his arms around his boy.
Harry molded to his chest and hummed with -happy love. 
Harry’s warm, gentle emotions filled the bond and eased Draco’s terror. Slowly
his heart beat calmed and he was able to breathe normally, his harsh panting
gasps quieting. * Love you, *he whispered telepathically into Harry’s mind. 
Harry smiled against Draco’s sternum and turned his head to rub his cheek
affectionally against Draco’s sweat-damp chest. Not quite able to smile yet,
Draco lay down, pulling Harry so that the shorter boy lay sprawled half on top
of him.
The dream haunted him. The icy terror of having lost Harry, of having failed
him, wasn’t easy to shake. The fact that it was an actual memory and not just
his imagination made it all the worse. An Unspeakable, Pandora Lovegood, had
been summoned by Lucius when they had first been found to study Draco and
Harry’s magical bond. It was rare, even for a twin bond, binding them at three
points: magic, soul, and mind. 
Instead, what Pandora found in her examination was the Black core of
Voldemort’s magic that was still attached to Harry’s own. In her attempt to
discover how to free Harry from that evil, she had created clones to experiment
on. Failure after failure, she had eventually brought Draco to that cold, white
room. 
It was there that he’d seen with his own eyes the pile of Harry’s corpses, all
of them killed painfully in the course of Pandora’s experiments. In fact, he’d
participated in one of those experiments. He’d looked into Harry’s green eyes
and watched as the boy was torn apart by magic, felt it in the artificial bond
Pandora had established between him and the clone. Draco had watched helplessly
as Pandora had cast the Killing Curse and killed Harry right in front of him.
The memory wouldn’t leave him, even after three years. 
Pandora had died studying the Black core inside Harry, but she had left Draco
her notes. Notes she had told him never to share with anyone. Not that he
would. If the world discovered Harry had Voldemort’s Black core in him, they’d
be terrified. They’d lock Harry up, maybe kill him trying to get it out. Draco
wouldn’t allow it.
Eyes silver and fierce, Draco stared up at the ceiling and held tight to
Harry’s warm, sleeping body. Harry was HIS! Draco was going to save him… He was
going to protect him… and he’d DESTROY anyone who got in his way.
xXx
Draco and Harry, wearing nice slacks and sweaters, arrived by portkey just
before noon to a small stone circle placed in a field in Ottery St. Catchpole.
The weather was a crisp 14 degrees Celsius/ 58 degrees Fahrenheit, but the sky
was blue and the sun was bright, making it feel warmer. They carried two small,
wrapped packages each. Ted carried even more while Andromeda carried a happy
toddler on her hip. 
It was May 1st. They were scheduled to return to the Malfoys for the month of
May, but it had been arranged that they could attend Beltane and Dee’s 3rd
birthday celebration with Andromeda and Ted first. Draco and Harry would
portkey back to Malfoy manor as soon as the party was over.
A huge pavilion had been set up on the far side of the stone circle. There were
wooden picnic tables, balloons, streamers, and a gaggle of redheads of all ages
with a few blonds and brunets scattered here and there. Laughter and shouts
filled the air. Draco’s lips tilted into a faint smile as Harry’s emotions came
across the bond - happy excitement. 
Ron spotted them first. The redhead came barreling over to them, his freckles
bright on his ruddy cheeks. “Draco! Let’s try and get ‘em to play baseball!” -
Ron had been roped into joining Draco and Harry’s summer baseball team and had
become an enthusiast. Quidditch would always come first, but baseball came a
close second.
“Hello, Ronald. Let us get settled in and say hello to everybody,” Andromeda
cut in, smiling.
Ron went an even darker red as he kicked the ground. “Hello, Mrs. Tonks.”
Draco led Harry and Ted over to the gift table while Andromeda and Dee headed
toward Molly at the food table. Bill, the Weasley’s oldest son, was sitting
there with a redheaded toddler on his lap. Septimus Weasley, otherwise known as
Tim or Timmy, saw Draco and his pale blue eyes lit up. A smile broke across the
toddler’s face and he reached for Draco eagerly. 
“Hey, Draco. Hiya, Harry,” Bill greeted with an easy smile. He was a dark tan
and his hair a bright copper from spending most of his time in the deserts of
Egypt as a Curse-Breaker. “Good morning, Ted. Happy Beltane.”
“Happy Beltane, Bill. You look well,” Ted answered politely, setting his
packages down.
Draco ignored Timmy’s reaching hands and ran his fingers gently through the
boy’s thick, wavy red hair. “Happy birthday, Tim,” he said softly. 
Harry ducked in next to him and gave the baby a heart-felt kiss on the cheek.
“Happy birthday, Timmy.” He looked up through his bangs and round black
glasses, smiling shyly. “Happy Beltane, Bill.”
Bill’s face softened even as he held onto the squirming toddler who was trying
to get closer to an aloof Draco. “Are those for the kiddos?” 
“Yes!” Harry gave a happy grin and placed the two presents on the pile. 
Draco did the same with the two he held and took Harry’s hand. “See you
around.” He led them into the crowd, ignoring the way Timmy’s eyes followed him
intently. Draco knew if he gave Tim attention, he’d never get rid of the boy
and he wanted to have some fun before he was stuck babysitting all afternoon.
He led Harry toward the stone circle. A tall pole had been erected in the
center. Long ribbons of every color hung limp around it waiting for the dance.
Most of the kids their age were gathered there. The girls were in bright, long-
sleeved dresses while the boys wore pants and colorful sweaters. Harry had
chosen a pale purple while Draco wore a deep sapphire blue.
Ron, Ginny, Luna, and two kids he didn’t know looked over as they approached.
Luna, thick blonde hair filled with colorful ribbons, saw them and smiled. She
had on a sparkly gold dress with pink ballet shoes and tiny, real cucumbers
hanging from her earrings.
“Prince Draco, Prince Harry!” she said happily and gave a graceful curtsy.
“How are you?” Draco asked softly as Harry gave her a quick hug. 
After the experiment with Harry’s clones, he’d seen Luna’s mother in a
different light, but Pandora had tried to help them and had left Draco notes so
that he could figure out how to save Harry. This girl with big blue eyes and
vacant smile had lost her mother because of them. It made him feel responsible
for her in some way.
“The devas are bright and happy today,” she answered whimsically.
Ginny loped her arm through Luna’s, her face a bright red the way it was
whenever she was around Harry and Draco. “Are you dancing this year? Please,
Draco?” Her usual braided pigtails had been exchanged for a messy bun. She wore
a pretty, pale green dress and had white ribbons in her hair.
- nervous anticipation - 
Draco caught and held Harry’s deep green eyes. They had sat out on the last two
Maypole Dances. Harry loved watching. He thought it was beautiful, but he was
terrified of messing it up. All the spinning and interweaving of the ribbons
seemed too complicated.
* Just follow my lead, * he decided, telling Harry across the bond. They were
going to Hogwarts in a few months. This would be a good test of Harry’s nerves
and show Harry that he was more able than he thought. *Remember the whole point
is for the ribbons to get tangled. You can’t do it wrong. *Looking away from
his boy, he gave the girls a polite smile. “Yes. We’ll dance this year.”
Ginny gave a happy squeal and darted toward her mother to tell her the news.
- anxiety trust - “Yes, Draco,” Harry said softly, head ducked submissively.
Draco ran his thumb gently over the back of Harry’s hand.
“Draco, this is Hermione and Neville,” Ron stood leaning on a stone from the
circle and gestured carelessly to the two brown-haired kids Draco didn’t know.
“Mum invited them this year when she heard about Hermione.” The redhead leaned
closer and whispered, “Hermione is a Pleasant. She’s being fostered by the
Longbottom family.”
Ron’s whisper wasn’t quiet enough for the two kids not to hear and the girl
ducked her head so that her frizzy hair hid her face. The boy’s chubby cheeks
went red, but he said nothing, shifting his weight unhappily. 
Muggleborns were getting taken from their Muggle families more and more often
now. The first few were older and attended Hogwarts already. They had been
pathetically grateful for being fostered by a Magical family and a few had even
been open about the abuse they had suffered there. Such stories had increased
the popularity of Loretta’s Law. 
As more families began to foster Muggleborns, an amendment to the law was
created for all fostered Muggleborns to change their names to match Loretta
Pleasant’s. It was said they did this to honor the girl who had inspired the
law that protected and saved them, but Draco took lessons from Lucius and saw
another reason behind the name change: it was so that the fostered Muggleborns
could be more easily identified. 
One reason for this was to prevent the accidental corruption of a Pureblood
line. If a Muggleborn was fostered by a Pureblood family, a courting family
might assume they were legitimate heirs to that line. A marriage between a
fostered Muggleborn and a Pureblood would corrupt the line and had to be
prevented at all cost. Of course, there were those like the Weasleys who didn’t
care about blood purity and were considered blood-traitors because of it even
though their line wasn’t technically corrupted yet.
In any case, as Loretta’s Law became more and more popular and kids were taken
from their families at a younger and younger age, the rightness of it had
become murkier to Draco. Lucius speculated that Muggleborn fosterlings would
become a type of servant to the adopting family and a symbol of status. If the
child was actually abused, all the better. They’d be desperately loyal to the
family who wanted them. 
Draco had never met a Pleasant in person and he was slightly curious which way
this Hermione fell. Was she an abused child or had she been swept up in the
Pureblood demand for a Muggleborn to foster?
“Thanks, Ron,” Draco said calmly and reached forward to push the girl’s hair
away from her face so he could see it. “Hi, Hermione. I’m Draco Malfoy. This is
Harry Potter. It’s nice to meet you.”
Her expression was guarded; she had already learned a degree of shame for what
she was. However, she hadn’t flinched when Draco moved his hand toward her face
to touch her hair nor was she afraid to look in his eyes. 
“I’ve read about you in the papers, of course,” she stated stiffly. “It’s a
pleasure to meet you.” She then gave an unpracticed curtsy.
Draco gave her a cool smile. He doubted she had been abused, or at least not to
the extent Draco would consider abuse. Not like he and Harry had been in the
Blackmarket Hold where survival had been a very real daily struggle and not
like Percy who had been molested for most of a year by a mysterious man in the
Gryffindor dorms. 
“Have you ever danced around a Maypole?” Draco asked casually, losing interest.
“No,” she admitted reluctantly and flushed red in embarrassment, clearly
sensitive to being made to feel lesser.
“I haven’t, either!” Neville chimed in suddenly, still red in the face. His
eyes darted nervously, unable to maintain contact long. After his outburst, his
voice dropped significantly. “I… My family doesn’t… celebrate… much…”
Draco lifted an eyebrow. It was the boy who actually showed evidence of abuse
and he was the Pureblood. Neville was shorter than Ron but a little taller than
Draco. He was plump with mousy brown hair and brown eyes. There weren’t any
marks on him, but with magic there wouldn’t always be. 
“It’s my first year, too,” Harry chimed in after receiving Draco’s subtle nod.
He gave Neville and Hermione a warm smile. Hermione visibly relaxed, but
Neville remained tense. “Draco says you can’t do it wrong. The ribbons are
supposed to get tangled.”
“We can show you baseball, too!” Ron jumped in enthusiastically. “It’s a Muggle
game, so I bet Hermione knows about it. Draco is the team captain on the summer
team we belong to. We’re the  Yellow Jackets!” he told them proudly, puffing
out his chest. “We took second place in last year’s tournament. Practice starts
again next month. It’ll be our last tournament before Hogwarts, so we gotta win
it!”
Draco smirked. “Oh, we will,” he said confidently. 
“Why are you wearing a collar?” Hermione suddenly asked, eyes looking intently
at the black leather collar that sat snug around the base of Harry’s throat and
only partially covered by his sweater. 
Harry’s hand lifted to cover the collar protectively. He still harbored a fear
that someone would take it from him. It symbolized Draco’s claim on him, the
loss of which terrified him to this day.
“It’s some Muggle fashion,” Ron answered annoyed. “Don’t you know that?”
Hermione went red in the face, frowning, but before she could respond, Draco
thought it best to leave. Chokers were a fad among Muggles, but they were
usually worn by girls and didn’t usually resemble dog collars. It would be best
if the Wizarding world didn’t realize that.
“Come on, Harry. Let’s get some food.” He took Harry by the hand and gave a
polite nod toward Neville and Hermione. “You are welcome to play if you would
like to join us.”
As soon as Molly saw them, she gave them huge hugs. She had Dee on her hip. The
little girl was always smiling and giggling, her dark brown curls bouncing and
her blue eyes sparkling. Where Tim was silent and hadn’t spoken yet, Dee
babbled and giggled constantly. She was a delight and everyone doted on her.
Draco caught sight of Madam Longbottom. She was a severe woman who wore dark
maroon and black even on this bright and festive day. Her hat and bag had
animal fur and feathers. Death seemed to shroud her. 
Everyone ate and drank, the adults getting a bit tipsy. Eventually they
gathered the kids who wanted to participate in the Maypole Dance. Harry and
Neville looked very nervous and anxious as they took up their ribbons. Ginny
was the complete opposite. She had been crowned May Queen again this year and
wore a huge crown of white and pink flowers. Luna smiled vaguely, looking
content, while Hermione had a frown of intense concentration. Ron just wanted
to get it over with and play baseball. Draco shook his head and gave Harry a
reassuring smile.
Bill began a happy jig on the fiddle while Ted piped along on a flute.
Andromeda and Molly shook tambourines. A jaunty song somehow came out of all
the noise and Ginny began to skip around the pole, pushing everyone along. They
ducked and jumped over each other’s ribbons. It soon became a game and they ran
around laughing and spinning. Their ribbons became shorter and shorter until
they all met together at the base of the pole, red-faced and out of breath. The
adults clapped and roared their approval and fathers came to lift their
daughters on their shoulders. Ginny and Luna looked thrilled, but Hermione
stood alone next to Neville with no father to speak of. Even Dee was lifted
carefully onto Ted’s shoulders.
Ron was able to wrangle ten people into playing baseball not long after. Draco
was always catcher and Harry always played pitcher. Ron, Arthur, Bill, Ginny
and Molly were the Reds. Andromeda, Neville, Hermione, Luna, and Ted were the
Nots. They took turns fielding and batting in turns. Having more adults on the
team gave the Reds the advantage during batting, but the Nots had the advantage
during fielding. It was a close game, but the Reds took it in the end much to
Ron and Ginny’s delight. 
Dee and Tim opened their presents shortly afterward. They received clothes and
a few toys. They even blew out the three candles on their shared birthday cake.
It was shared because Molly and Andromeda had both gotten pregnant on Samhain,
or Halloween, night while they were caught in a faery ring. Exactly six months
later, they had both gone into labor on Beltane or May 1st. The women claimed
it was because the babies were special and had a special connection to nature,
but the truth probably had something to do with fairy magic.
As the sun began to set, a bonfire was lit. Bill and the other adult males
leapt over the flames to the applause and gasps of the watching crowd. It was a
purifying ritual while the Maypole was masculinity wrapped in femininity, the
symbol of fertility and sex. Draco knew most of the couples here would be
getting it on tonight and he looked to Harry, his everything. 
The firelight softened the boy’s face and illuminated his happy smile. Draco
squeezed his hand and pulled him closer so that he could stand behind him and
wrap him in a hug. * Love you, *he whispered into Harry’s mind.
- LOVE gratitude happy -came rushing back.
Draco smiled and pressed his face into Harry’s messy black hair to hide it.
xXx
June 28th, 1991
Draco was sitting on the couch, leaning against the arm. Harry was on the floor
between his legs, Draco running his hand rhythmically through Harry’s soft,
messy hair. They both had Earth Science textbooks propped up in front of them.
The living room fireplace flared with green fire. Draco looked up lazily,
expecting Dora to step free with Andromeda and Ted. His eyes widened however
when Dora practically leapt through the fire and spun around, her open school
robe flaring, her hair a bright, flaming red. 
Andromeda strode from the fire equally up in arms. “… no thought to what this
would do to the family!” 
“What, Mother? Represent the family with honor?”
Dee, who had been asleep on the rug with a blanket and pillow, sat up and began
to cry. Harry looked up at Draco and received a short nod. He then immediately
moved to the toddler and pulled her into his arms. She quieted, watching with
big blue eyes as her older sister and mother continued to scream.
“Honor! That’s a fine thing to put on your grave! I’m sure it will be very
comforting!”
Red in the face, Dora grew a few inches to be slightly taller than her mother
and stepped forward so they were less than a few inches apart. “I like how much
faith you have in me! I haven’t died yet, Mother!”
“The Aurors is no place for you, Nymphadora!”
“And you think you know what my place is? I’ll decide my own place! I will be
starting the Auror program!”
“You thoughtless, stupid girl!” Andromeda lifted her hand to strike her
daughter across the face, but Dora knocked her arm away with enough force that
Andromeda staggered.
“I’ll grab my things,” Dora said coldly, her hair turning a dark, jet black. “A
friend will put me up.”
Ted looked sadly on as his daughter stormed past him to the stairs up to her
room. Andromeda, furious and crying, stomped into the kitchen without saying a
word.
Draco stood and set his book aside. “Come on, Harry. Let’s tell Dora goodbye.”
He held his hand out expectantly.
Harry stood with some effort, hefting Dee onto his hip. The girl’s feet dangled
to Harry’s knees, but he managed. The sound of Dee sniffling was loud in
Harry’s ears and - remorse guilt - flooded his heart.
“This had nothing to do with you.” Draco came up behind Harry as they reached
the second floor landing. He slipped his fingers between Harry’s skin and
collar, pulling it snug against Harry’s throat in warning. 
Draco maintained his grip as they ascended the stairs to the third floor. He
walked behind Harry, arm stretched up to maintain his hold on the collar. By
the time they reached the top, - calm acceptance - had replaced the heavy
emotions from before. 
They found Dora in her bedroom. Her Hogwarts robe was gone. In its place she
wore a pale blue, baggy button up shirt tucked into pale blue jeans with huge
pink flowers all over them. Her light brown belt matched her work boots. She
had rolled the shirt’s sleeves to halfway up her forearm. Her hair was short
and frizzy around her head, still a dark black. Her eyes brightened to blue,
matching Dee’s, when she turned and saw them in the doorway.
“Well, we knew it would be like this,” she said ruefully with a smile, her hair
going brown. “I’m sure it will blow over in a few months, maybe a year tops.
You boys will be going to Hogwarts in a few months, so you probably won’t even
notice.”
Dora hefted her duffle bag over her shoulder and came over to ruffle Dee’s
curls. “I love you, little Dee Dee.” She kissed the girl’s chubby cheek. She
turned to Harry, giving him a sweet smile. “Just Owl me if you need anything,
okay? We’re family. No matter what.” 
“I love you,” Harry told her tearfully. “I’m sure you’ll do amazing as an
Auror.”
She flashed them a seemingly carefree grin and turned to Draco. His grey eyes
watched her calmly. She handed him a thick envelope. “I catalogued all the good
hiding spots in Hogwarts as well as a few interesting little tidbits. Give ‘em
hell, will ya?”
“Good luck.”
Dora patted his shoulder bracingly once before pushing past him on the stairs,
leaving for good. They could hear Andromeda yelling something to her before a
door slammed loud enough they could hear it on the third floor. Dee put her
head down, tucking it against Harry’s neck, crying softly. Harry stared wide-
eyed at Draco.
The blond pulled Harry into his arms, Dee held safely between them. Harry
tucked his face against Draco’s neck. “It’s going to be okay, Harry. They’ll
make up. Dora’s gonna be great and Andromeda will be proud. Trust me.”
“Yes, Draco,” Harry answered softly, relaxing into Draco’s hold.
xXx
July 2nd, 1991
Just shortly after dawn Narcissa carried the letter the boys had brought to her
from her older sister down to the informal breakfast room. It was one of her
favorite rooms. It had cream wallpaper with a pale brown diamond pattern. The
ceiling was white, but you could see fat wooden beams crossing along the top. A
soft yellow chandelier that looked like bare tree branches with about a dozen
golden candles hung from the center. 
Making the room look bigger, there was a big golden-framed mirror on one wall
that sat above the wall’s halfway mark. Underneath the mirror, on the lower
half of the wall, was white wood with a small lip at the top. The table was
dark and carved in a rectangle that could fit three dinning chairs on the long
sides and one chair at either end. The floor was polished hardwood, and there
were two narrow windows that stood floor to ceiling and showed a small hedge
garden. On the center of the table was a low bowl of white flowers and two
golden candlesticks with white candles lit. 
Each place setting had china plates that sat on top of each other, each
slightly smaller than the one on the bottom with many silver forks, knives, and
spoons surrounding it. It was a picture of elegance and high-born etiquette,
and Lucius matched the room perfectly.
He was already dressed immaculately for the day, his long hair tied back at the
nape of his neck, his day robes perfectly tailored to his form, and his cane
resting against his chair. His eyes softened as he took in his wife. Narcissa
was adorned in a white dress that was reminiscent of Grecian robes. Large pink
flowers graced the semi-sheer fabric. Her long golden hair was pinned up on her
head, revealing her long neck.
“Good morning,” she greeted her family.
“Good morning, Narcissa,” Harry answered back, smiling.
“Good morning,” Draco said more simply.
“I received a notice from Andromeda,” she informed them as Lottie, one of their
two house elves, began serving. “Nymphadora graduated the top of her year.”
“A fine achievement,” Lucius praised and cut his eyes meaningfully toward
Draco. “It is a good example to follow.”
Draco ignored this. He would do as well as he wanted to, but Harry felt sharp -
anxiety - always needing to please. Draco squeezed his hand firmly under the
table. 
“She has also been accepted into the Auror Apprentice program,” Narcissa added.
“If that is the course she’d like to pursue, she clearly has the scores for
it.” - Lucius’s words were supportive, but his tone expressed doubt.
“It’s a dangerous field,” Narcissa agreed quietly. “Hopefully Denebola will
pursue a more peaceful course.” Her worried eyes fell on Draco. 
Draco gave a careless shrug. “It’s not something I’m interested in.” If he
needed to kill someone or investigate something, a group like the Aurors would
only slow him down.
Not knowing his thoughts, Narcissa gave him a relieved smile and returned to
her breakfast, the conversation dropped in favor of discussing the playdate
they had scheduled with Draco and Harry’s “closest” friends. 
These friends were the ones approved by Narcissa of course; families loyal
specifically to Lucius Malfoy. Pansy Parkinson, a member of one of the twenty-
eight Sacred Bloodlines, as well as Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle -
Purebloods but whose lines were contaminated a few generations back by
Halfblood spouses, preventing them from being considered one of the Sacred.
As luck would have it, Draco didn’t mind his mother’s choices. Pansy was an
emotional girl and sometimes thoughtless, but she was quick and witty. She also
genuinely liked both Harry and Draco. More importantly, she was obedient,
prepped by her own mother to make Draco happy as a potential mate. 
As for Vincent and Gregory, they were products of too much inbreeding. Their
two lines had this strange chemistry, intermarrying again and again. Even now
Vince and Greg’s mothers were sisters. Their fathers were first cousins. Thus
the uncanny resemblance: both blond, hulking boys with watery blue eyes. They
also had difficulties with reading and writing. 
Vince especially had a hard time with words. When he spoke, it was slow, making
him sound dumb. Most people didn’t have the patience to wait for him to get
them out and just bowled right over him. It was a shame because Vince was
remarkably insightful, which Draco had used to his advantage a few times
already.
As their mothers sat in a garden having tea, Draco led the others toward the
woods. It was hot and the shade and privacy were welcome. 
“Of course father doesn’t think I need to bring all my dresses with me to
Hogwarts. I know I can’t wear them under my uniform, but I want to be prepared
for any eventuality,” Pansy chattered on to Draco as they walked between the
trees. Harry, Vince, and Greg were slightly ahead of them looking for birds in
the trees and other animals, their soft voices a soothing backdrop. “Slytherin
has a reputation to uphold, after all,” she continued, tucking her shoulder-
length black hair behind an ear as she looked over at him with bright eyes and
flushed cheeks from the exercise.
“I’m not going to Slytherin, Pansy,” Draco told her with a wry smile. 
Pansy almost tripped, too busy staring at him to see the tree root in front of
her feet. “You can’t be serious! You’re the very definition of Slytherin!”
Draco smirked and came to a stop, leaning back against a tree and folding his
arms smugly across his chest. “Which is why I won’t be in Slytherin.”
She could only gape at him, wide-eyed.
Grey eyes watched Harry. The boy looked so small compared to the taller, bigger
Vince and Greg. “I’m not going to be separated from Harry. He’ll have more
supporters in Gryffindor.”
“Gyffindor!” Pansy gasped. “He’s not a Gryffindor, either, Draco!”
He chuckled. “Neither am I, but I’m even less a Hufflepuff.”
Pansy made a choking sound. “I would say so!”
“Gryffindor is where we’ll meet halfway.”
“Even if that were true, how are you going make that happen?”  Putting her
hands on her hips, she stood across from her friend with a very demanding
expression. “You don’t just get to pick!”
Draco stared unblinking back at her, eyes sharp. “I will.”
She huffed, crossing her arms and looking away. She could never hold his gaze
when he got like that. “Are we allowed to be friends in this plan of yours? You
know Gryffindors and Slytherins don’t get along.”
Draco pushed off the tree and tugged playfully at her hair. “I’d never let a
good resource go untapped.”
She scowled, making him laugh. “Gee, thanks.”
xXx
July 31st, 1991
One month later, it was the last night before they head back to the Tonks’. It
was also Harry’s 11th birthday, and Dobby woke them before dawn to deliver a
very important letter.
- relief gratitude joy- sang through the bond as Harry clutched his acceptance
letter from Hogwarts. No matter how much Draco had reassured him that he was
going to Hogwarts, Harry still thought it was possible for the school to decide
they didn’t want him.
Draco smiled as the messy-haired boy beamed happily at Dobby and thanked him
profusely. He was practically hugging the letter to his chest. Dobby, of
course, gushed about how great Sir Harry was, and the two babbled over each
other with huge grins plastered across their faces.
“Enough,” Draco chuckled and gave a yawn. “I suppose we might as well start our
day.”
“Do you think we can go shopping today…?” Harry trailed off - guilty excited.
He ducked his head and let his bangs hide his eyes. 
“I think Narcissa will be thrilled to take us shopping,” Draco answered wryly.
The woman genuinely loved to shop.
Sure enough once they dressed and made their way to the breakfast room,
Narcissa took Harry’s letter with a happy smile. “Congratulations, Harry! I do
believe this calls for a little trip to Diagon.”
- happy -
They made trips to Diagon a few times a year, but today felt different. It felt
like Harry was seeing it for the first time. All the buildings were sort of
wonky and leaning toward each other and toward the cobblestone street. Most of
them had huge windows so that you could look in without going inside. There
were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver
instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat
spleens and eels’ eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of
parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon…
“May we get our wands first?” Draco asked Narcissa politely, his grey eyes
gleaming. He was very much looking forward to being able to wield spells.
“Of course!” She led the way easily through the gaggle of witches and wizards.
People seemed to realize who she was and part for her. 
The boys followed in her wake, walking hand-in-hand, causing excited whispers
to erupt behind them wherever they went. Lucius came after, expression
impassive, his silver cane-head gleaming in the morning light. There was an
even wider space around him than his wife, giving him plenty of room to keep an
eye on his family.
Ollivander’s wand shop wasn’t too far down the alley. It had a grey exterior
and seemed kind of slumped. Two rounded-out glass windows with several window
panes revealed a very narrow interior with shelving floor to ceiling with
slender boxes of wands. A tiny bell chimed when they entered. The boys stood
next to Narcissa with Lucius lurking behind them as usual. There were no lights
on in the building. The only the light came from the front windows. It cast the
back of the shop and the narrow walkways in deep shadows.  
A man with white frizzy hair that stood up around his head appeared out of the
gloom. He wore a frayed coat and a grimy white shirt with a thin scarf tied
around his neck. He should have looked ragged, but the energy around the man
made him seem eccentric instead.
“First customers of the day,” the old man spoke softly, a leering grin
appearing on his face. He had milky white eyes, but he wasn’t blind. He looked
dead at Narcissa and said, “Willow, nine and a half inches, unicorn hair. Very
supple wand. Good for long incantations.”
“Yes,” Narcissa inclined her head, smiling in amusement. “It has served me
well.”
Those white eyes shifted to Lucius. “Ash, ten and three quarters, dragon
heartstring. Very stiff wand. Packs quite the punch. A dueler’s wand.”
Lucius said nothing. He remained stoic against the old wizard’s gaze.
Draco took a subtle step forward so that he was slightly in front of Harry when
those eyes fell on them. Harry moved in closer to his protector, but he kept
his head up and his eyes even. His public mask was firmly in place.
“Ah, I can tell you’ll be a difficult one,” Ollivander murmured. He lifted his
hand as if he was going to stroke Draco’s face, but he stopped before his
surprisingly graceful fingers came in contact with Draco’s skin. Muttering to
himself, he disappeared among the gloom.
“There are only three core types used in the UK,” Narcissa informed them when
Draco turned curious eyes up to her. “Dragon heartstring, unicorn hair, and
phoenix feather. The way the core is combined with the variety of woods and the
length of each wand makes each one unique.”
“Quite so!” Ollivander enthused as he returned as suddenly as he had gone. He
had an arm full of about nine wands. “The wand chooses the wizard. That much
has always been clear to those of us who have studied wand lore. These
connections are complex. An initial attraction, and then a mutual quest for
experience, the wand learning from the wizard, the wizard from the wand.”
He set the wands on the counter near him and opened the first box. A very dark
wooded wand was lifted from the padding inside and handed to Draco to try.
Draco took the wand and frowned at the sensation of freezing cold, as if the
wand were ice. Ollivander snatched it away, muttering again as he quickly re-
boxed the wand and presented the second. This one was very pale. Draco grasped
hold and they felt a rush of magic and then the sound of something toppling in
the back. Harry’s eyes went wide.
“No matter,” Ollivander dismissed and snatched the wand away. “Let’s see…”
Draco tried four more wands. It was the eighth that lit up with a soft light
like a sunbeam, warming the air around them and sparkling gold. 
Harry gasped - joy awe love- his green eyes bright and happy behind his
glasses. 
Draco gave him a smirk, his head tilted proudly as magic seemed to shimmer
under his skin. This was his wand, no doubt about it. His hand made a
possessive fist around the slender bit of wood.
“Hawthorn, ten inches, unicorn hair,” Ollivander murmured in pride. “Semi-
flexible. A very protective wand and versatile. This wand is full of
contradiction and embodies duality.”
“Thank you, sir,” Draco told him politely, giving him a half bow. “It is
perfect.”
“May I see it?” Harry asked shyly. 
Draco unclenched his fist and presented his new wand on both palms so his boy
could see. 
Narcissa leaned down slightly to also get a good look. It was beautiful really.
Dark, nearly black at the handle, it had a slightly raised lip and then became
a shade of brown. It was very smooth and straight, no curves or bumps or
knots. 
“A very good wand,” she approved.
“Now… Let’s see which wand chooses you, shall we?” Ollivander asked, looking
eagerly at Harry.
Harry blushed, but he kept his head up. 
Again Ollivander reached out, almost touching Harry’s face, before turning and
heading deep into his store. Harry waited nervously, holding tightly to Draco’s
free hand. A thought had come to him. What if none of the wands wanted him?
* You will have a wand, *Draco stated firmly into his mind.
Harry’s blush deepened, but he relaxed at Draco’s proclamation. His confidence
didn’t last long, however. 
Ollivander tried over a dozen wands on Harry and they all rejected the boy -
the curtains caught on fire, one whole section of wands had flown from the
shelves making a huge mess, Ollivander’s hair had turned a puke green, and one
wand actually bent in half, much to Harry’s horror. 
Harry’s hands were shaking now, terrified of grasping another wand. Tears
filled his eyes, but they were forbidden to fall, trapped behind a public mask
that was about to crumble any minute.
Draco stood behind his boy, wrapping him in his arms. * You’ll find your wand,
Harry. Be patient. * 
He would have soothed Harry, telling him it wasn’t his fault, but he knew from
experience that when Harry felt guilty, comfort only made him feel worse and
not understood. Harry needed to be controlled, punished, or given tasks of
atonement. It was the only thing that made him feel better. However, Draco’s
options were limited as they stood at the front of Ollivander’s shop with
Narcissa next to them and Lucius behind them. All he could do was give a
warning pinch to the soft tissue of Harry’s lower stomach. 
Harry lowered his head in acceptance at the small sting - shame fear
submission. 
“Here we are!” Ollivander’s voice came loud from the back of the room. He
appeared a moment later with a single dusty box in his hands. “Nearly eighty
years old, it is. Give it a try.”
Harry didn’t move to take it. It had a dark brown handle that looked like the
bark of a tree, uneven and rough. The section above the handle was a little
thinner and lighter, but it still wasn’t as polished as Draco’s before
smoothing into five inches of polished, smooth wood. 
* Take it, * Draco ordered.
Harry’s hand immediately lifted and grasped hold of that rough-hewn handle.
Immediately, streamers of red, gold, and silver spilled from the tip like
ribbons. Warmth radiated up his arm and pooled in his belly. Harry gave a
shocked gasp and looked almost desperately up at Draco as the blond came to
stand beside him.
* Good boy, * Draco praised, briefly touching Harry’s flushed cheek.
Harry ducked his head and practically melted as Draco pulled him protectively
against his chest, hugging him with Harry’s new wand trapped between them.
Harry was shaking in reaction, nearly overwhelmed with emotion - relief
gratitude unworthiness.
Draco looked up as he pet Harry’s hair, the boy’s damp face pressing against
his collarbone. Ollivander stared back with weird intensity. Draco tightened
his hold on Harry and lifted an eyebrow. “What is it?”
“Eleven inches, holly, phoenix feather. Nice and supple… But it is curious,
very curious…”
“What’s curious?” Draco asked sharply. 
“Is there something unusual with his wand?” Narcissa asked a bit more politely.
Harry unfolded from Draco’s embrace, giving the blond more room to move if he
had to. He clutched his new wand to his chest.
Ollivander’s white eyes stared unblinkingly at Harry. “I remember every single
wand I’ve ever sold, Mr. Potter. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail
feather is in your wand, gave another feather - just one other. It is very
curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother gave
you that scar.” He lifted and pointed with a slender finger directly to Harry’s
forehead.
Draco felt Lucius go tense behind him and would have rolled his eyes if his
heart wasn’t pounding a mile a minute. Lucius had withdrawn from Harry since
Pandora’s death. He was certain the boy was doomed or would become possessed by
the Dark Lord. He’d done all he could to convince Draco to break his bond with
Harry and had only grown colder and more distant with each of Draco’s refusals.
This would only reinforce Lucius’s paranoia. 
- horror acceptance sorrow -It wasn’t news to Harry that he was a disgusting
freak. Draco was his only redeeming grace, so it didn’t surprise him that he
had the same wand as the monster who had killed so many.
“The Dark Lord’s wand was holly?” Draco questioned, deciding to address Harry’s
world-view later. Narcissa’s hand clutched his shoulder fearfully.
“No,” Ollivander answered in a whisper, his attention shifting to Draco.
“Thirteen and a half inches, yew, phoenix feather. A powerful wand, terrible
but great.”
“Then it’s not the same,” Draco declared to everyone in the room. He took
Harry’s hand. “Come on.” Looking up at Narcissa, he informed her, “We’ll be
waiting for you at Madam Malkin’s.”
Harry obediently followed in his wake, his hand securely clasped in Draco’s.
The magic of the day had disappeared. He hardly looked around, his head ducked
and his face hidden, his mask having fallen away. His new wand was still in his
hand and he stared down at it numbly.
“Good morning, madam,” Draco said politely as they entered the robe maker’s
shop. 
The plump woman gave a big smile. “Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter, good morning.” Other
customers began to whisper loudly, all eyes on them. Even Malkin’s assistants
had stopped to stare.
“Before we go for our fitting, would it be possible to use your lavatory?”
Draco asked, using the high-class manners Narcissa had drummed into them over
the years.
Malkin, of course, gave permission and pointed the way even though it was staff
only. It was partially hidden by a staircase and a mountain of swatches and
textile materials. Draco pulled Harry into the small space with him. It was
tiled with a toilet and sink, barely larger than a cupboard, but it was
spotlessly clean.
Draco shut the toilet lid and had Harry sit on it. “Give me your wand,” he
ordered lowly.
Harry obediently lifted his wand, eyes on the floor. 
Draco took it from him. As soon as his fingers closed around it, he could feel
a response. A low hum that resonated deep in his bones. It wasn’t his wand, but
it was his twin’s and it recognized him. He gave a slow smile, eyes on the
bowed head of messy black hair.
* Look at me, * he told him. 
Harry’s face lifted, his green eyes going round behind black-framed glasses.
Draco stood, posture commanding and arrogant, feet braced, hips canted. He held
Harry’s wand up to his mouth. Pink lips parted as silver eyes stared down at
him and a slick tongue pressed firmly against the wood. Harry’s breath caught
at the sight, his eyes glued to Draco’s mouth.
Heart pumping steady and strong in his chest, thrilling in Harry’s attention,
Draco slowly wrapped his tongue around Harry’s wand and dragged it down the
length of the stick. Sensually up one side and down the other until the whole
thing glistened slightly from his spit. Harry was panting softly, cheeks
burning red and feeling hot.
* You’re mine, Harry. All of you. Every inch. Everything of yours is mine. Even
this, *Draco whispered into his twin’s mind. He placed the tip of the wand at
his lips and slowly slid it into his mouth, pressing it in until it hit the
back this throat before sliding it just as slowly out. “Open your mouth,
Harry.”
Harry opened his mouth, Draco placing the wet wand horizontal so that he was
biting down on it in two spots. His tongue lapped at it, sucking Draco’s spit
from it. 
“Don’t drop it and don’t hurt it,” Draco purred. “Don’t make a sound.”
He pushed open the red day jacket that Harry had chosen to wear that morning.
As Harry’s breath caught, Draco slowly untied the thin, maroon tie at Harry’s
throat and unbuttoned the pristine white shirt. He thumbed the boy’s nipples
before pinching them sharply. 
Harry arched into the pain, his eyes squeezing closed. He didn’t make a sound. 
Draco smiled softly, filled with love. He left off torturing Harry’s nipples.
Still smiling he undid Harry’s belt and button, unzipping the boy. Neither of
them wore underwear. Draco knelt and pressed his face into Harry’s crotch. He
wrapped his arms around Harry’s thin waist as he began to slowly lick in
circles around the boy’s small member. 
Harry was sweating now, his whole body arched in a tense line. Draco got him
nice and wet and stimulated before turning his head and bit viciously down on
his favorite place on Harry’s inner thigh. 
Harry went rigid, not breathing as the sharp pain shot through his whole body
like lightning. The second bite on his other thigh nearly made him scream. He
would have if he'd had any air at all. Tears soaked his face. 
Then Draco was licking him again, between the two points of molten agony.
Harry's jaw loosened, the wand trembled, but he caught it with his teeth at the
last minute. Hot, searing pain and throbbing pleasure - he couldn’t get his
breath. 
Yours, I’m yours, Draco, magic’s yours, body’s yours, free me, save me, hurt
me, Draco, yours… Thoughts and words filled up all the spaces not filled
already with the pain and pleasure, trapped and unspoken, chained by Draco’s
order of silence… and he was coming apart! 
Draco’s shoulders and face were damp from sweat. Harry’s pleasure and pain had
stormed the bond, bringing him over the edge with his boy. He shifted his hips,
his hand lifting from between his legs. There was a small damp spot in his
pants from where he’d cum. Mostly clear and only a small amount, it wasn’t like
Raymond’s cum yet, but he knew in a few years it would be.
Harry lay in a limp puddle on the toilet seat. His shirt and jacket hung open,
his wand between his teeth with his chin and chest slick with drool. His pants
were falling off his hips and exposing his wet, now limp member. He was a
gorgeous sight. Draco leaned up to kiss Harry’s drool-slick mouth, his tongue
tangling with Harry’s around the wand between Harry’s teeth.
“Good boy,” Draco praised, breathless and hoarse, as he leaned back. “Now get
dressed. Malkin’s waiting.”
- LOVE gratitude -Harry spat out his wand, catching it in his hand. “Yes,
Draco,” he murmured softly. He looked down at his wand and felt warm again. The
two bites on his thighs burned and throbbed like acid, comforting him. Whatever
the wand hand been, it was Draco’s now, just as Harry was. 
He held it carefully, cherishing it, as he clumsily buttoned his pants and
shirt, straightening his jacket. Draco’s warm grey eyes watched him as he
leaned against the door. Harry felt safe under that gaze and smiled softly as
he washed his hands and face, running his damp fingers through his hair, trying
to smooth it down. 
Draco pushed off the door and kissed Harry’s cheek. He took the boy’s hand and
led him back out into the shop. Narcissa was there, Lucius was not. 
Narcissa gave them a serene smile. “Are you ready for your fitting?” she asked.
Madam Malkin fitted them herself. She put them up on stools in front of the big
mirrors while her assistants worked on a few other people. Draco arranged it so
that Harry was to the left of him on the outside of the line next to no one but
Draco. Draco on the other hand was next to a tall teenager around thirteen or
so. He had cropped dark brown hair, heavy dark eyebrows, and thick lips. His
dark eyes met Draco’s in the mirror and he gave a sharp grin.
“Going to Hogwarts this year?” the boy asked, his voice breaking toward the
end.
“Yes.” Draco continued to watch him with no expression. 
“I’m trying out for Chaser this year. Interested in Quidditch?”
“We’ll see.” Draco shifted his attention to Harry for a minute, checking on
him, but Harry was standing calm and patient as Malkin measured the slight
changes in their dimensions from last year. 
“Potter, huh?” the boy said, voice low. Draco snapped his attention back to
him. “Wouldn’t think in a million years a Malfoy would get involved with a
Potter.”
“That so?” Draco asked quietly, a dangerous glint in his eye. “How rude of me.
I don’t believe I caught your name?”
“My name’s Pucey, Adrian Pucey. Third-year Slytherin.” Pucey gave another sharp
smile. “What House are you hoping to get into?”
“Oh, I have a feeling the Hat will know exactly where to put me,” Draco drawled
and gave a sharp smile of his own.
Chapter end.
***** Diagon Alley *****
Diagon Alley
“You boys look lovely in your school robes,” Narcissa said in approval as the
boys came over after their fitting. “Let me take your jackets.”
It was nothing but the truth. The robes were tailored perfectly to their forms.
Harry was still very thin, even with the nutrient potion he still took once a
month to try and reverse the damage of long-term starvation. Despite his small
stature, however, he looked healthy. His hair was thick and glossy, his eyes
bright, his skin a golden hue from playing baseball most of the summer. 
Draco stood a few inches taller and was slightly thicker than Harry, but he was
by no means a big child. He possessed a slender build with whipcord muscle
underneath his scarred skin. His hair had been bleached pure white and his
cheeks and nose were slightly burnt from his time outdoors.
“Thank you, Narcissa. They feel very comfortable,” Harry answered with a happy
blush and handed over their day coats. 
Narcissa folded them and cast a spell to shrink them to the size of matchbooks
before placing them into her pocket. Looking over, she met Madam Malkin’s eye,
silently telling her that she’d be paid later. Harry could still get a bit
sensitive if a lot of money was spent on him, so she was in the habit of paying
out of his sight. 
Turning a charming smile to the boys, she asked, “Are we ready to go?” 
Draco eyes were still cold from his exchange with Pucey and his answer came out
a clipped, “Yes.”
Narcissa ignored Draco’s attitude. “Lucius is waiting for us at the bank. He
had some business there and he also wanted to let Harry see his Potter vault
now that he is eleven.”
Harry put his hand in the blond’s -calm love -flowing through the bond. 
Draco melted. He squeezed Harry’s fingers in thanks, his eyes thawing. 
They had a little bit of a walk. Gringotts was at the very end of Diagon Alley
and the crowd was even thicker than it had been that morning. Draco kept his
face perfectly blank as people gasped and pointed at them. A few even dared to
take pictures, not that it would do them any good. Draco and Harry never went
out without Narcissa or Andromeda placing a Distortion Charm on them, so any
photographs taken would come out blurry as hell.
Harry kept close to Draco, but he wasn’t too overwhelmed. His thighs still
throbbed hotly with every heartbeat and it made him feel secure even in the
press of people. He felt utterly confident that Draco would handle anything
that came up. Instead, he was more focused on the new school robe he wore. 
The robe material was soft and smooth under Harry’s fingers. It was, of course,
the most expensive school robe Malkin made. It sort of swished as he walked,
reminding Harry a little of a gown. A smile peeked out at the corners of his
mouth. It also had built in pockets so they could store their new wands.
Harry’s attention was drawn upward as they reached the bank. He gaped at the
intimidating building, lips parting. It was tall, white, and crooked one way
and then another, standing several stories tall. Two burnished bronze doors
stood open with a goblin in a uniform of scarlet and gold standing to the side.
It wielded a short spear and looked at everyone walking past with the most
ferocious glare. 
Narcissa ignored the creature and Draco followed her example. The three of them
stepped into a marbled entrance hall about ten degrees cooler than the outside.
Another set of doors, these silver, stood just inside with large words
inscribed in cursive on them:
Enter, stranger, but take heed of what awaits the sin of greed. For those who
take but do not earn must pay most dearly in their turn. So if you seek beneath
our floors a treasure that was never yours, Thief, you have been warned. Beware
of finding more than treasure there.
The silver doors made a groaning sound as Narcissa waved her wand at them and
they slowly opened inward. Two more goblins stood just inside the second
entrance, looking nearly identical to the goblin standing guard outside. As
they walked passed, the goblin next to Harry gave a wicked grin full of very
sharp teeth.
Draco pulled him forward and Harry saw a vast marble hall. Hanging from the
ceiling, there was a huge, gold chandelier with crystals hanging from it,
sending light to every corner. Long counters stretched along its length along
both walls with several different doors leading off to the vault passageways.
At each booth, a goblin sat to deal with customers. There must have been a
hundred of them. 
Lucius had been sitting at a bench by the doors, waiting for them. He greeted
his wife with a shallow inclination of his head. Narcissa mirrored the gesture.
She and the boys followed him toward one of the empty counters. 
“Lucius Malfoy and family. We’d like to escort Harry Potter to his vault,”
Lucius drawled.
The goblin was dressed in an old fashion suit and stared up at them as if they
were disgusting. “Wands please and Mr. Potter’s vault key.”
The four of them handed over their wands and Lucius produced a small golden key
with a capital P in cursive on the end. The goblin examined all of these for
several long minutes. Harry glanced at Draco and Lucius, but neither of them
seemed bothered by the wait, so he decided nothing must be wrong.
Eventually, the goblin hopped down and asked them to follow. They made their
way toward one of the doors at the back that led to the vaults. The chained
gate was locked and secured, but the goblin waved his gnarled hand and it
opened easily. They all received their wands back, but the goblin kept the key.
They were led into a rough stone passage that had a cart and tracks. It was a
tight fit in the steel cart, so Harry had to sit on Draco’s lap. 
They shot forward, Harry giving an involuntary cry. Draco’s arms tightened
around him to keep him in the cart. It was like riding a broom that you had no
control over. They went up and down and zigzagged in crazy directions. Vaults
whizzed past. They even shot through a huge cavern with a huge, chained dragon
sleeping at the bottom. 
When their cart came to a violent halt, Harry and Draco were grinning while
Narcissa looked a bit green. Lucius lifted his eyebrow at her as he offered his
hand. She took it with a haughty tilt to her chin, making Lucius’s lips twitch
into a quick smile.
They climbed out and walked toward a huge golden vault door with the number 687
inscribed on it. As the goblin was opening the door, another cart zoomed by
with a huge, bearded man who was screaming. Draco chuckled while Harry
giggled. 
The Potter vault swung open and they all looked inside to see piles and stacks
of coins like a pirate treasure filling half the room. The coins were taller
than the boys in some places, and there were a few chests that contained some
photos and documents as well as a couple journals. Lucius stood to the side and
spoke softly to Narcissa as the boys explored.
Harry had come to accept that he’d had a family before the Dursleys and that
they were good people unlike what he’d been told, but he still didn’t quite
feel attached to them. It was just something he couldn’t completely wrap his
mind around. After all, he was a freak who deserved nothing. He couldn’t
imagine anyone except Draco wanting him. However, he happily helped Draco look
through the few chests for things of James and Lily. For Remus’s sake. The man
still deeply grieved the loss of his best friends and Harry cared about him,
but they didn’t find anything. Most of this was from James’s parents or even
older heirlooms. 
“I heard everything of theirs was lost in Godric’s Hollow,” Lucius murmured
when Draco mentioned it. 
Draco frowned. Just how much damage had the house taken? Now wasn’t the time to
grill Lucius, however. He took Harry’s hand and asked his boy, “Are you ready
to go?”
Harry looked up at the blond through his fringe. “Should I give some gold to
Lucius and Andromeda for taking care of me?”
“I take care of you,” Draco gently corrected and shook his head. “No. This is
ours for after school and we move out on our own.”
Harry accepted that, trusting him to know best. “Yes, Draco.”
They were leaving Gringotts and heading toward the bookstore when a loud
booming voice called out to them from the street. “Arry!” 
The man was standing in front of them. He’d been searching for something in his
pocket in the massive patchwork leather overcoat he wore when he’d seen them.
It was the massive man who had been screaming in the bank cart. 
He walked back up the steps, stopping four down from them and still he towered
over them, standing twice as tall as an average man. He had to have been nearly
twelve feet! He was wide, too, nearly three times as wide as a normal-sized
person, with a long mane of shaggy black hair. He would have been terrifying
but for the fact joy suffused his face, a grin clear even through the thick,
bushy beard that covered nearly half his face.
“Havne’t seen ya since you were a little ‘un!” he boomed. 
“You knew Harry when he was a baby?” Draco asked, head back to look the man in
the face.
“Took ‘em from Godric’s Hollow, I did! Such a small thing!” the man’s joy
transformed into a very real sorrow. Tears began to glitter in his beetle black
eyes. “I didn’ know what they’d do to ya there. Makes me right sick just
thinkin’ bout it. Pr’fessor McGonagall said they were the worst Muggles, but
with You-Know-Who’s followers still runnin’ about, thought it was the safest
place for ya.”
As - unease confusion - jumped through the bond, Draco stared in wonder at the
strange being before him. The hairy man seemed to be completely unable to not
speak his true feelings and he was clearly in the know about sensitive topics.
Draco was instantly intrigued. He’d never heard a first hand account of that
night before.
“Rubeus Hagrid,” Lucius said with a sneer, introducing the man since he clearly
was unable to remember to do so himself. “Keeper of the Keys and Grounds at
Hogwarts.”
Hagrid’s eyes narrowed as he stared down at Lucius. “You best be takin’ care o’
our ‘Arry, ‘ere, Malfoy. There’s a mighty lot of people who care ‘bout him.”
“Thank you, Hagrid,” Draco interrupted, seeing the tightening of Lucius’s lips
and knowing what that meant. “They’re taking very good care of us.”
Hagrid turned his attention to Draco, his face softening. “I reckon they are
with you lookin’ out for ‘em. Pr’fessor Dumbledore told me ‘imself you’d never
let anythin’ hurt ‘Arry.”
“We’d love to stay and chat, but we still have quite the amount of shopping to
do,” Narcissa cut in cooly.
“I’d like to treat ‘Arry to lunch, if I could?” Hagrid suddenly asked. “Seein’
it’s his birthday an’ all. I’d a made ‘em a cake if I knew I’d be runnin’ into
‘em ‘ere.”
“Lunch sounds like a great idea,” Draco answered with a big smile. He gave
Lucius and Narcissa a pointed look. “Why don’t we take a little break? You
could get some things done and pick us up at the Leaky Cauldron in an hour.”
Hagrid looked like he’d won a very special prize. 
At first Narcissa protested, making excuses, while Lucius gave Draco a cold,
disapproving stare. Draco shot down every excuse and met Lucius with
indifference. A few minutes later, Draco and Harry were walking beside Hagrid
back to the Leaky Cauldron. 
Harry shot Draco a look. He knew that expression. Draco had a purpose. He
wanted something from Hagrid. Anticipation determination- strummed through his
veins. Being useful to Draco, helping him, gave him the biggest rush. It
reassured him that he could be good; he was more than a freak who cursed
everyone around him. So Harry smiled up at Hagrid and chatted with him
cheerfully all the way to the pub his goal burning in his mind. He needed
Hagrid to be at ease so that Draco could get what he wanted from him. 
As they settled in at a table, Hagrid sat in a huge chair as thick and wide as
a tree trunk. Draco gave the massive man a smile, casually stating, “It’s lucky
we ran into you today.”
“Had an errand to run for the Pr’fessor, I did,” Hagrid said in a whisper that
was as loud as a normal speaking voice. His dustbin-sized hands patted his
breast pocket. “Had to pick up an important item.”
Curious as he was about that, Draco was more interested in the night Voldemort
attacked Harry. “Headmaster Dumbledore must trust you a lot. And the Ministry,
if they sent you to get Harry.”
Hagrid guffawed, a short booming laugh. “The Ministry don’t approve of people
like me. It was Pr’fessor Dumbledore who sent me. Knew before the Ministry did
that somethin’ had happened. Felt the Fidelius Charm fall as he’s the one who
spelled it there.”
Harry, now knowing Draco wanted details of that night, made his eyes big and
his voice soft. “What was it like? What did you see, Hagrid?”
Hagrid gave Harry a worried look. “I shouldn’a mentioned it.” He cleared his
throat gruffly and tried to change the subject. “Ya look so much like yer
father, ‘Arry. Woulda recognized ya anywhere. Got yer mum’s eyes, though. She
was a right beautiful witch.” He gave a loud sniff, tears in his eyes. “I
tended the grounds when they were in school. Full of life, they was. By the
end, they were so in love.”
Harry had heard similar tales from Remus. He was the one who had found them in
America and brought them back all those years ago. The Malfoys may have
forbidden contact between them, but Andromeda hadn’t felt the same way. Remus
had visited as often as he could the months they lived in London. He couldn’t
replace Liam, their adopted brother in New York, but he had come close.
“Thank you, Hagrid. I know. You may remember Remus Lupin. He’s a good friend
and he told me a bit about them,” Harry said, pushing his glasses up his nose.
A shiver went down his back as Draco caressed his thigh under the table. “I
know it’s hard, but I’d like you to tell us what happened that night. Others
have told me what they know, but none of them were there like you were.” Green
eyes intense, he added, “Please?”
Hagrid looked from one small boy to the other, but he kept coming back to
Harry’s unwavering stare. “It wasn’t a good night, ‘Arry.”
“I know.” Harry felt his heart pound in his chest. “But I need to know what it
was really like. I deserve to know.” 
“I suppose ya have the right,” Hagrid acknowledged reluctantly. Taking a deep
breath, he blew it out, ruffling the hair on both of the boys’ heads. “I was in
me cabin when I got the summons from Pr’fessor Dumbledore. He told me to fetch
ya, Harry. To keep ya safe and bring ya to ‘em. I can’t ride a broom on account
of my size, but I had a motorbike I was fixin' up for a friend. It was dark as
pitch and I figured I’d not be seen, so I flew it to Godric’s Hollow. 
“Ya see, I could find the house easy, as the charm was broken. I remember it
bein’ so quiet. There were no lights on in any of the houses. Not even street
lights. There was that horrible mark, just floatin’ in the sky. Green and
sickly, the skull and snake. The Dark Mark. You-Know-Who would put it up above
his targets, like a signature. It was fadin’ even as I watched, blowin’ away.
The house was dark and kind’o fallen in toward the center. I was mighty scared
you was hurt, ‘Arry, but I was afraid to go in and make the house fall down
because of my size, but outta the dark doorway came a man holdin’ ya. You were
such a tiny thing!” He sniffed again.
“Who was the man?” Draco asked lowly, riveted on Hagrid’s story.
“Sirius Black,” Hagrid admitted, anger rumbling in his voice. “I didn’t know
what he’d done at the time. He looked crazy upset. He was cryin’ and screamin’.
I was worried about ya, ‘Arry, so I told ‘em to hand ya over. That Pr’fessor
Dumbledore was gonna keep ya safe now. He didn’t wanna let ya go, but he was
goin’ on about getting revenge. I told ‘em ya needed takin’ care of. There was
blood. On yer head there.” He gestured with his huge hand toward Harry’s whole
head, which wasn’t helpful, but both boys knew Hagrid meant the lightning bolt
scar that sat slightly to the left on his forehead. “It was bleedin’ and ya
wouldn’t wake up, so he gave ya to me. Told me to take care o’ ya. Fit in one
hand, ya did. Then he told me to keep the bike and he just dissapeared.
Apparated somewhere. The next day he went after poor Peter. Killed ‘em and all
them Muggles.” As if remembering he was talking to Harry and Draco, Hagrid’s
eyes went wide and he rushed to assure them, “He’s in Azkaban now. He got
what’s his. You don’t have’ta worry about that!”
“Who was he? Why was he there?” Draco asked, surprised by the emotion in the
massive man’s voice.
Hagrid gave a tired sigh. “He was best friends with ‘Arry’s dad. Like brothers,
they were. Him and Remus and Petter. Thick as thieves. Black was the Secret
Keeper,” he confessed and looked sadly down at Harry. “Told You-Know-Who where
to find ya. Betrayed your dad and mum.”
Black must have been a terrible person. Harry couldn’t imagine betraying Draco
- protective devotion. He leaned against Draco’s side and said firmly, “I’m
glad he’s in Azkaban then” 
Draco grabbed Harry’s hand, pulling it into his lap, and squeezed it. “Where
did you go after you had Harry?” he prompted, pushing the story along. 
“Flew to Surrey. Carried ‘Arry in my arm the whole way. The bleedin’ stopped
and I cleaned ‘em up as best I could.” Hagrid reached out to pat the top of
Harry’s head. 
Harry tensed, expecting to nearly crumple under that giant hand, but Hagrid was
surprisingly gentle. 
“I’m sorry, ‘Arry. More sorry than ya will ever know that I left ya there.”
Hagrid returned his hand to the table and straightened his back as if to brace
himself for some horrible truth. “Pr’fessor Dumbledore was waitin’. He turned
all the lights off, made it nice and dark. No one saw as I pulled up. Pr’fessor
McGonagall was there, too. She told us she didn’t like the looks of those
Muggles. Like I said, Pr’fessor Dumbledore figured it’d be the only safe place
fer ya. Said there was special wards there on account of the woman being yer
mum’s sister. Even still, it was mighty hard to let ya go. Pr’fessor Dumbledore
placed ya in a protected basket and left ya on the stoop with a letter. We
waited to be sure the woman would take ya in and she did, so…” Fat tears wet
Hagrid’s cheeks. “We left ya.”
Hagrid’s sincere distress compelled Harry to reach out and pat the man’s
massive hand. “It’s okay, Hagrid. I’m not upset.”
Hagrid nodded and dug in his pocket, sniffing. 
“Thank you for telling us the story,” Harry continued, trying to soothe the
man.
Hagrid pulled out a handkerchief as big as a towel and a round package tumbled
onto the table wrapped in brown paper and tied with a string. Draco reached out
to hand it back to the man, but as soon as his hand closed around it he felt a
hot pulse of magic throb up his arm. It was like a soft kick to the stomach.
Hagrid was too busy blowing his nose like a trumpet to notice the way Draco’s
whole body froze. 
Harry darted a glance at Draco’s face, looking for that terrible blankness that
preceded one of Draco’s horrific flashbacks, but instead the blond’s eyes had
gone silver the way they did when he was utterly focused on one thing to the
exclusion of all else. Harry stood and walked around Hagrid to stand at his
other side, making the man turn his head to look at him, away from Draco and
the way he was clutching the package on the table. 
“Do you need another drink, Hagrid? Or something to eat?” he asked politely. “I
feel bad asking you to talk about it. I didn’t mean to make you upset.”
“Don’t ya worry about me, ‘Arry. I’m okay,” Hagrid protested and blew his nose
a final time.
Draco was barely aware of Harry and Hagrid’s conversation. The round package
was warming under his hand. It called to him. It was like his wand, but
different from it. It felt more powerful, but also like it would only do one
thing. For some reason it made Draco think of a gun even though instinctively
he knew its purpose wasn’t to cause harm. 
He was tempted to unwrap it, but he was smart enough to realize unwrapping
something that powerful in the middle of the pub would be extremely stupid. His
mind raced, but he already knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it. Stealing it
would only get him in unnecessary trouble. It’s not like Hagrid wouldn’t know
who took it, so Draco forced himself to hand it over.
“You dropped this, Hagrid,” he said, voice rougher than he expected.
Hagrid’s eyes went wide and he quickly stuffed the package back into his
pocket. “Sorry ‘bout that. Ya shouldn'a seen that.”
Draco nodded in perfect agreement as Harry came back around to retake his seat.
“It was very magical,” he admitted, wrapping an arm around Harry and pulling
the smaller boy against his side. He met Hagrid’s gaze, eyes narrowed
thoughtfully. “Wonder what it is.”
Hagrid leaned forward, whispering. “Pr’fessor sent me to pick it up from
Gringrotts. Only thing in the vault, it was. I reckon it’s mighty important, so
it’s best the likes of you and me stay outta it.” He straightened again.
“Right! Let’s eat!” 
Just then Tom, the barkeep, brought over their shepherd’s pies. They talked of
simple things, mostly Hogwarts related. Harry even tried to explain baseball to
the man, but it was a lost cause. Before they knew it, the hour was up and
Narcissa and Lucius appeared.
“Don’t concern yourself with the tab,” Narcissa politely informed Hagrid. “It’s
been settled. I hope you have a pleasant rest of your day.”
Hagrid turned and scooped Harry up into a hug. Harry’s feet dangled off the
ground nearly three feet. Draco tensed, but he slowly relaxed as he sensed no
fear or pain from Harry. “Good luck to ya, ‘Arry. I’ll be seeing you again at
Hogwarts.”
“Bye, Hagrid,” Harry said with a smile once his feet were on the ground. “Thank
you for lunch. I look forward to seeing you again.”
Hagrid gave another big grin before making his way out of the pub. 
Draco took Harry’s hand possessively. 
“Now that your… curiosity,” Lucius drawled with cool disdain, “is assuaged, may
we continue to purchase your school supplies? The day grows late.”
Draco gave his father a sweet smile. “Absolutely, Lucius. Let’s go.”
Lucius cut his son a cold glare before turning on his heel and leading the way
back out onto the alley, his robes flaring about his feet. His cane made a
sharp taping sound with every step, emphasizing his displeasure. 
Narcissa took up the rear this time. When she caught Harry’s worried look, she
gave the boy a discrete wink and smiled when it made the tension in Harry’s
shoulders melt away. She had come to terms long ago with what it meant to have
Harry Potter as her adopted son. The boys would make associates out of a wide
range of people and would naturally deviate from the more expected Malfoy
allies. 
Lucius had yet to fully resign himself to that fate. She understood his
discontent, but it was far better to face reality and adapt as quickly as
possible than to resist and possibly lose Draco’s confidence. Likely the Keeper
of the Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts was just the beginning, and, as
unacceptable as the half-giant was as a person, there was a strategic advantage
to becoming his associate that Narcissa could recognize. The least of which was
the man’s loose lips and close relationship to Albus Dumbledore. 
Draco shot his mother an amused look as they entered the bookstore and Lucius
stiffly informed them he would meet them at the counter before striding off.
Narcissa’s lips twitched and she guided them easily to the shelves dedicated to
Hogwarts’ school books. There were several other kids and parents, but Narcissa
easily maneuvered them to the front. 
The list was pretty extensive:
Magical Drafts and Potions, Standard Book of Spells Grade 1, Dark Forces: A
Guide to Self Protection, One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, A History of
Magic, A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration, Magical Theory Grade 1,and
finally Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. 
That was eight books in all and they weren’t exactly easy reading.
“Do we really need two of each?” Harry asked, nervously pushing his glasses
higher up his nose.
Draco considered that. “In class, we’ll likely need to use our own textbooks,
but we could share the supplemental texts.”
Harry smiled happily at that.
“It’s not as if we don’t have the money,” Narcissa scolded lightly, putting
back one copy of both Fantastic Beasts and Magical Theory. “I also suggest
reading Hogwarts: A History.” She grabbed one and placed it in their basket. 
Moving away from the crowded school section, she led them toward a less busy
aisle. “Why don’t you browse the shelves for some pleasure reading,” she
suggested. “I’ll grab Lucius and meet you in a few minutes at the counter.”
Draco nodded and took Harry’s hand. He led him deeper into the store. “You did
great with Hagrid, Harry,” he said warmly. Finding a shadowed corner, he pushed
Harry against the wall. 
Green eyes looked up at him with unconditional trust, - pride happy- sizzling
through the bond. Draco felt a type of hunger begin to burn through his core.
“Such a good boy,” he practically growled. 
Harry was panting now - anticipation desire love - burning deep in his gut. He
watched with wide eyes as Draco slowly, deliberately leaned forward, silver
eyes burning into his own. Harry gasped as their lips touched. 
With torturous gentleness, Draco slowly licked at Harry’s lips before sliding
his tongue softly inside. Then, leaning his full weight against the smaller
boy, he grabbed a fistful of Harry’s hair and kissed him hard, sucking roughly
on Harry’s tongue before lashing the roof of Harry’s mouth with hard, fast
strokes. Harry moaned, deep in his chest, and clung to Draco’s shoulders.  
Mouths breaking apart, dizzy from lack of air, they leaned against each other,
panting. Harry’s glasses had fogged and both of their lips were red and
swollen, a thin, glistening strand still connecting them. Draco pulled back,
breaking the connection. He randomly grabbed a few books off the shelves and
made his way toward the counter, a cocky strut in his step. 
Harry, blushing, followed after the blond, wiping his glasses clear on his
robes before sliding them back on his face. His whole body tingled, the bites
on his legs and in between throbbing with heat. 
Narcissa lifted an eyebrow at the books Draco had grabbed: Moste Potente
Potionsby Phineas Bourne andFifteenth-Century Fiends by Belvedere Babcock. She
didn’t say anything, however, and neither did the clerk, who was too busy
staring at Harry to really notice anyway.
They made their way to the apothecary next. Lucius remained as cold and
indifferent as ever. They quickly bought the necessary ingredients for First-
year students as well as two top-of-the-line potion cases. Herbology gloves,
earmuffs, and other tools were also purchased there. They were just leaving,
the little bell above the door chiming, when they ran into Hagrid once more.
The half-giant was grinning ear to ear. In his hand, he carried a massive
birdcage. Within it, a large white owl with a sprinkling of black dots stared
back at them with huge golden eyes. “Happy birthday, ‘Arry,” the man boomed,
ignoring the Malfoys completely.
Harry stared at the caged owl, too surprised to feel much of anything.
Draco gave Hagrid a surprisingly warm smile. “Thank you. Your gift is
beautiful.” He accepted the cage, having to hold his arm completely extended.
The owl was surprisingly heavy and his eyes widened a second before Narcissa
cast a feather-light charm on the cage. 
“Thank you,” Harry whispered - deeply grateful. He lifted a finger and ran it
over one of the slender bars. 
“She seemed mighty eager to be out’ta that store and I figured I had a few
birthdays to make up fer,” Hagrid said cheerfully and gave the boys a wink.
“Specially as seeing I didn’t even get’ter pay for lunch. Well, I best be off.
I’m sure the Pr’fessor is anxious fer me to get back.” He reached out and
gently ruffled Harry’s already messy hair before striding away.
Narcissa and Lucius said nothing about their new pet. Narcissa simply took
Harry’s arm, Lucius took hold of Draco’s, and they Apparated home. 
“Draco, a word,” Lucius said, eyes chilly. He turned on his heel and climbed
the main stairs without looking back.
Draco gave a sigh. “Unpack our new things,” he told Harry.
“Yes, Draco,” Harry answered obediently. He eagerly accepted the birdcage, the
owl disgruntled and fluffed up from Apparating. 
Draco brushed the boy’s cheek with his fingertips before turning and following
his father to his study. He already knew what the conversation would be about.
The study door was open and Draco saw that Lucius was pacing, which was new.
Usually the man stood at the office window stiff as a board with his hands
clasped at the small of his back. 
Draco stepped inside, gently shutting the door behind him. It shut out the
light from the hall and cast the room in shadows. He leaned against the door,
expression bored.
Lucius sighed out a loud breath before turning and facing his young son. 
Draco had grown in the four years he’d been in Lucius’s custody, but he was
still so small, so young. Draco thought he knew so much and could handle any
problem thrown his way, but he’d been sheltered whether he knew it or not. By
his age, by his traumatic past, by the Malfoy name, by his bond to Harry
Potter, he hadn’t truly faced an adult situation or the consequences of one
since he’d entered the Wizarding world. But they were coming, consequences and
situations both, and soon it’d be too late to turn back. Soon Draco would be in
Hogwarts and farther away from Lucius’s sheltering mantle. 
A knot of frustration and panic choked him, Lucius’s hands fisting at his
sides. What could he say to convince his son to turn back? To give up this
foolish belief that he could triumph against the Dark Lord? 
Draco sighed, a softer sound than his father’s, and pushed away from the door.
He strode forward, grabbed Lucius’s fisted hand, and walked him to one of the
armchairs in front of the desk. Lucius didn’t resist, maybe curious about
Draco’s intentions. Draco very rarely touched people, except for Harry. The
skin to skin contact made Lucius go quiet and take notice. 
With Lucius sitting and Draco standing in front of him, they were very nearly
eye-to-eye. Due to the Malfoy curse, Draco was a younger copy of his father,
nearly identical. Grey stared into grey; the moment lingered as each weighed
the other. 
“You’re pretty self-interested. I can trust in that,” Draco said softly. “I’m
your only chance at a legacy. Your greatest fear is the Malfoy line dying with
me, because of you.”
Lucius felt cold, howling rage griping his insides with frozen claws. 
“Focus!” Draco hissed, eyes narrowing dangerously. “Listen.” He waited for
Lucius’s breathing to even out before continuing. “You’re so caught up in this
vision of the future, you can’t see what’s right in front of your face.”
“What’s that?” Lucius breathed without inflection, a thin layer of black ice
encased over a dangerous emotional storm. 
“I don’t give a fuck about your legacy. Never have,” Draco stated with brutal
honesty, but before Lucius could react, he added, “That doesn’t mean you won’t
have one. I don’t need to care for it to exist, do I? As long as I’m alive, as
long as there is the potential of me having the next male Malfoy, your legacy
exists no matter what I think or feel.”
Lucius grinned humorlessly. He knew that very well, actually. It was a reality
he faced every day.
“So let’s help each other,” Draco gave a bloodthirsty grin of his own. “I will
vow to take into consideration the Malfoy legacy from this point on with the
intent of furthering it. In exchange, you will cease this constant fight
against reality. I am bound to Harry Potter and he is bound to me. I will take
on the Dark Lord be it through Harry or beside him, and I plan on winning that
fight.” Grey eyes beginning to burn silver, Draco reached forward to grip his
father’s jaw. “In exchange for my vow to care about your ridiculous legacy, you
will vow to get on board with my plan to defeat Voldemort. Truly and whole-
heartedly get on board, without reservation and without this obsession of
breaking my bond with Harry. You’ve had four years, Lucius. Give. It. Up.”
Lucius reached up and took Draco’s small hand in his own, pulling it away from
his face. “I don’t doubt your resolve, Draco. A Malfoy’s will is a diamond-
headed spear. It is what has driven the Malfoy family forward and kept our line
alive even under this impossible curse.” His eyes went silver-edged, mirroring
his son’s. “It is not your will that I question, it is your assessment of your
capabilities. It is not possible for you to defeat one such as the Dark Lord.
His power… It is unlike anything you have ever seen. How can you expect me to
believe you can defeat him when he will most likely return by possessing
Harry’s body? Even their wands are the same, Draco!”
“I will do whatever it takes to save Harry,” Draco answered simply, tone
casual. “If that means toppling governments or creating my own army. If that
means mastering every Dark Art there is or possessing Harry myself. I will use
every thing, every skill, every one at my disposal to do it, but I will save
him.” He slid his hand from Lucius’s grasp. “That includes you.” Draco gave a
cocky, closed-mouth smile. “So. Are you ready? To join me? To throw all this
energy you waste trying to ‘save’ me from Harry into actually destroying
Voldemort? Because I could use your expertise in Dark Magic.”
Lucius felt time slow to a crawl. His heart pumped like the pistons of a
runaway train. Adrenaline saturated his system. 
Draco wasn’t wrong. 
The first year he’d had his son back, he had been obsessed with revenge.
Railing at the world, he’d hunted down the one responsible for his son’s
disappearance, blaming them utterly for what had been wrought on his son’s mind
and body, blaming them for the destruction of the Malfoy line. 
The second year, he’d shifted his focus to ways to break the bond between Draco
and Harry. He’d scrambled for arguments that would convince Draco to break it.
He’d researched rituals that could accomplish such a thing without utterly
destroying Draco’s mind or magic in the process. He’d failed at both.
By the third year of Draco’s return, Lucius had begun to truly panic. As the
evidence of Harry’s connection to the Dark Lord became more and more apparent,
he’d become utterly certain the Dark Lord would return, spelling Harry’s - and
through him Draco’s - certain doom. Every plan Lucius could conceive of
eventually developed too many flaws or depended on too many happenstances to be
relied on. It always kept boiling down to trying to convince Draco to willingly
dissolve the bond, which was a fool’s quest. Draco would not relent.
So. 
Lucius stared into his son’s eyes and saw his fate. He could give in. He could
make an Unbreakable Vow with his son in exchange for one from Draco. Or he
could continue to work to preserve Draco’s life at odds with his son. 
Lucius knew if he chose the latter, he’d eventually lose Narcissa as well. His
wife had long ago cast her fate with their son’s. However, if he chose to work
with Draco’s insane plan and lost… Well, everything would be lost, but the same
could be said of the latter choice as well.
If he chose to continue to work against Draco’s ultimate goal of Harry’s
salvation, and Draco lost as Lucius feared he would, what would he really be
able to preserve? How much of Draco could possibly be saved if the Dark Lord
gained ascendancy and dominated the Wizarding world? The very best Lucius could
hope for would be to convince the Dark Lord to keep Harry Potter alive and
imprisoned, a type of slave to the Dark Lord’s whim, just to keep Draco alive.
To be honest, Lucius didn’t even believe that was possible. Draco wouldn’t
allow it. His son would kill Harry himself and die with him before allowing
that. 
So really what did Lucius have to win by choosing the second option? The truth
of the matter was that there was more to be won by choosing to join his wife
and son. His only real choice, as impossible as it seemed was…
“Very well,” he rasped, heart thundering in his chest. “Yes. I surrender. I
will make the Vow.”
Eyes half-lidded, Draco gave a slow smile. “That’s good,” he said sweetly and
offered his hand. “Dobby!”
There was a compact pop as the elf appeared next to Draco. Dobby stared up at
Draco with clear devotion. “Yes, Master Draco sir?”
“I’d like you to bring Narcissa here. Immediately,” Draco told him.
Dobby disappeared and not five seconds passed before Narcissa appeared with a
grimace as she was travelled into the room by elven magic. 
She staggered, catching herself on the back the arm chair across from the one
Lucius sat in. ‘Draco needs you. Will you come?’ the elf had asked in a rush.
She’d barely gotten out her answer of ‘yes’ before the world had turned inside
out. She caught her balance quickly, however, as she noticed the way her son
and Lucius had clasped forearms and seemed to be having some silent contest of
wills, staring each other down.
“Narcissa,” Lucius said gravely, never once looking away from Draco. “Please be
our binder.”
Chapter end.
***** Secrets *****
A/N:Hello, all! I had a few people ask about updating schedules. I have a
feeling that the start of this story will be a bit irregular as I get a feel
for it and work out plot, BUT the goal is to update every Sunday afternoon or
evening. Chapters might come a day or so late for now, however that is the
schedule I’ll eventually adhere to. Thank you so much for all the comments!
They are definitely fueling this story.
Secrets
Lucius made his way purposefully toward the dungeons below the manor. Narcissa
was asleep in their bed, a subtle spell he’d cast ensuring she’d stay that way.
The boys had left to Andromeda’s a week ago at the start of August, so the
manor was silent and still, feeling empty. 
A cold smile turned up the corners of his lips as his booted feet stepped with
a muffled click onto the rough, stone floor of the dungeon. It was dark, his
Lumos flinging dark shadows along the walls as it illuminated his immediate
area. It was cold and damp, his every step creating strange echoes. 
The cell he wanted was at the far end. A thick iron door with no windows or
flaps cut into its surface sealed the cell into an inescapable prison. Runes
were carved into the smooth, cold surface, making it unbreakable and masking
the presence within. Wards spelled into the doorframe and across its surface
made the hairs on Lucius’s arms stand on end, the magic deadly to any who
attempted to break in and steal away Lucius’s prisoner. 
It took several minutes to pass through his protections, but eventually the
heavy door swung inward and his Lumos rushed into the dark hole. A woman was
crouched in the corner. Tears streaked her face even as she held up an arm to
protect eyes that had been blinded by darkness for weeks. Matted, curly black
hair fell past her hips. Her naked body was marble white and unblemished except
for the faint shadow of the Dark Mark on her inner left forearm. She was tall
for a woman, a few inches shy of six feet, but you’d never know it the way she
was curled into a ball, back pressed hard into the corner of her cell. 
Dark eyes, heavy-lidded and lined with long, thick lashes blinked rapidly, her
skeletal-thin arm slowly lowering. Lucius stood towering above her, watching
with cold apathy as she adjusted to his presence. She bared her teeth in a
death-head grin. Using the wall for support, she stood, her long hair covering
most of her breasts from his view, but hid nothing else. 
“Bellatrix.” Lucius said her name with cold hatred in his voice. 
It was she who had stolen Draco as a baby and hidden him overseas under the
Fidelius Charm. It was because of her that Draco was kidnapped by a pedophile
and then sold as a sex-slave. It was because of her that the Malfoy name was in
danger of dying out after nearly four hundred and fifty years of surviving a
powerful Lineage Curse.
“I want my sister!” she rasped painfully, eyes glittering madly. “I want
Narcissa!”
Lucius chuckled. “Three years in my dungeon, Bella, and you still think to make
demands.” He stepped forward and viciously grabbed her face. She flinched back,
both hands coming up to claw at his sleeve. His robes were spelled impervious,
so he hardly felt it. “I promised you that your suffering would never end,
sweet Bella, and I keep my word.” 
He flung her away from him and her head hit the hard stone wall with a crack.
Dazed she sank to the floor, leaving blood in her wake as the rough wall tore
her delicate skin. Bellatrix hissed, face contorted with an animalistic rage,
as she clumsily tried to pull herself back to her feet. She made it to her
knees and swayed, one long-fingered hand splayed against the wall for balance. 
Lucius grabbed her by her matted hair. His fingers encountered warm wetness and
he grinned cruelly down at her. “You heal so nicely, Bella. Not a mark on you
after our last bout of fun.” His eyes glittered a cold silver. “Not like my
son, whose scars will never completely fade even with the most potent healing
cream.”
“And what scars would you have left had he been left with you!” she snarled up
at him, panting with mad fury. Suddenly she was laughing, wild peals that
filled the cell. “A little boy who lusts after other boys! Can’t have that! It
would taint the Malfoy name!”
Vision going red, Lucius hauled her up and put his hands around her throat. She
made not a sound, not even able to choke he squeezed so viciously. His heart
thundered in his chest, filling his ears with a repetitive booming. 
She wasn’t wrong. He would have made sure Draco understood how abhorrent it was
to even think of another boy in such a manor. He would have trained him
perfectly to uphold his position as a Pureblood with pride and honor. Draco
would have been glorious, a woman worthy of him on his arm who would produce a
son made in the Malfoy image. It enraged him that Bellatrix thought what Draco
had suffered was in any way better. His son had survived, he’d grown hard and
powerful, but he was corrupted and flawed. To imply that the monstrous acts
committed on his body were preferable… 
Luicus snarled and released the woman. She collapsed unconscious, her face
swollen and nearly purple, her bulging eyes vacant. With practiced ease, Lucius
cast three healing spells in quick succession. It did nothing for the deep
bruising that bloomed along her throat in the shape of his fingers, but it
reduced the swelling and helped oxygen saturate her blood. She coughed and
sputtered, slowly regaining consciousness.
“Get up,” he growled dangerously.
She was almost on her feet when he lashed out, kicking her in the stomach hard
enough to fling her against the wall and bounce off, landing sprawled at his
feet.
“Get up!” he bellowed, grabbing her by her hair and hauling her up. 
She coughed and sputtered, arms crossed protectively over her middle. He let
her go and watched impassively as she staggered and leaned against the wall.
Black eyes glittered malevolently back at him.
“You’re going to make yourself useful for once, sweet Bella,” he told her with
dangerous sweetness, “and help me keep the Vow I made to my son.” He reached
for her with the hand that bore very faint lines just barely visible. 
Bellatrix was screaming before he even touched her.
… 
It had taken Lucius a week to prepare the ritual site. Lughnasadh was the first
of the three harvest festivals and technically was celebrated August 1st or at
least on the Sunday closest. Still, the power of the season was strong and it
suited him just fine to have other pagan celebrators not in attendance. He
didn’t expect company, but he’d still spent hours every night for a week laying
down runes and wards to repel wizards and Muggles alike. 
The moon was an hour from rising. The sky was clear, each star seeming to
pierce through the black veil with almost brutal force. Lucius had created his
ritual circle with pebble-sized clear quartz on top of the tallest hill in
Wiltshire, referred to as Long Knoll. Dried grass had been burnt along the
inner and outer edge of the ring, leaving runes dawn in ash. 
Lucius walked up the hill with deliberate focus from the northern side, walking
in a straight line south as best he could. Long Knoll stood two hundred and
eighty-eight meters above sea level at its highest point. His circle was on a
small flat shelf of green grass just near that tip, and as he crested the hill
his prepared ritual site came into view.
His sister-in-law was kneeling naked, her shins pressed firmly into the ground
as her butt rested on her heels. Each wrist was bound by strips of thick
leather and magically welded to the ground on either side of her hips. She was
placed just inside the circle at the southern point, the direction of Summer
and Fire. Her hair had been tied back by another strip of leather at the base
of her neck and left to hang long and tangled, pooling on the ground behind
her. She was no longer cackling madly or screaming in terror and rage. She was
staring up at the stars with an almost childlike wonder.
A man of about thirty years was bound in the center, arms and legs, unable to
move more than his head. He had on rough linen pants, his bare chest etched
with scars and muscles. His dark eyes were riveted on Lucius, hatred and fear a
potent mix within them. Lucius wore identical pants and was also bare-foot and
bare-chested. His long, white-blond hair had been pulled up into a bun high on
his head bound with a strip of freshly tanned leather. 
“Who the fuck are you?” the man spat with a distinctly American accent. 
Lucius ignored him. Lughnasadh was a harvest festival, but it was also a summer
one. Any spell could be worked at any point in the year if you were creative
enough. All things in the universe were connected. However, there were distinct
advantages to working certain types of spells in the correct season and an even
further boost if you worked it on a day of Power, such as the quarter days -
the Solstices and Equinoxes - and the cross-quarter days - the four festivals
that sat between them: Imbolc, Beltane, Lughnasadh, and Samhain. 
As a family called to the Dark, they celebrated the Darker half of the Wheel
with more zeal, which so happened to begin with Mabon - the Autumn Equinox -
then Samhian, Yule - the Winter Solstice - and ended with Imbolc. Lughnasadh,
however, as both a harvest festival and sitting at the Summer and Autumn’s
cross-quarter just so happened to be exactly what he needed. 
Summer: Fire Season; it was symbolized by Sword or Flame or Wand. Its seat of
power was in the South. Passion, courage, lust, creativity, fertility,
virility, desire, romance, force, and enthusiasm were enhanced by the season.
Spells and rituals Fire-based would be increased ten fold during summer and
revolved around banishings, new beginnings, destroying the old to make way for
the new, and obtaining desires. All of which, Lucius so happened to be in need
of. 
He stepped counterclockwise around his circle as he wished to enact an ending
not a beginning and lit the torches placed at eight points around the outside
of the circle. The man continued to spit threats and profanity as Lucius moved.
Bellatrix continued to gaze at the stars. Once all eight were lit, the torches
spread light until the circle and everything within it was clearly illuminated,
but they weren’t as large as a bonfire that would draw the notice of outsiders.
Lucius trusted the wards he’d placed to keep things private, but there was no
sense in asking for trouble. 
The quartz crystals that formed the circle glittered with white light. Directly
in front of Bellatrix a piece of amber bigger than a water melon sat taller
than it was wide and was vaguely shaped like the silhouette of a man. The
firelight seemed to glow in the amber’s depths and the American grew quiet.
Even a Muggle could sense the power gathering on the hilltop and in the stars.
Lughnasadh celebrations usually began in the day under the sun, however
performing the ritual at night would heighten the harvest aspect of the
festival while still allowing Lucius to draw on the aspects of Summer. 
He knelt before the amber and lifted his hands in supplication. “I call the
circle to life in honor of the Great Mother Tailtiu who worked the soil so that
it would be fertile until She died of exhaustion. I call upon Lugh, her blessed
son, who fought a vicious battle with Crom Dubh, a being of blight and
pestilence. I call upon Lugh who triumphed and bestowed upon the people the
first harvest of grain thus ensuring the people received the Great Mother’s
gift.”
He met Bellatrix’s eyes, her attention now focused solely on him. They were
revealed to be a dark, ocean blue in the torchlight. He gave her a dangerous
smile and stood. She moved not a muscle as he approached her, pulling a dagger
from his pants. Quick as a snake, he grabbed her by her hair and cut her
ponytail just above the leather tie. She sucked in a quick breath as her now
short hair fell into her eyes and over her cheeks, just barely falling past her
jaw. 
Lucius had already turned away. Kneeling once more before the statue, he dug a
shallow hole and coiled the nearly three-feet of dark black curls inside. “I
make this offering to the Great Lugh, be he satisfied.” 
As he buried the hair, covering it with the displaced earth, a faint hum seemed
to rise from the hill itself. Lucius grinned sharply, white teeth flashing in
the light. His offering had been accepted.
He stood once more and faced the man tied on the ground. “I make this offering
to the Great Lugh, be he honored.”
The man yelled, terrified, as Lucius approached with the dagger in hand, but
Lucius merely cut through the leather straps, freeing him. He set the knife on
the ground before the Muggle. The man scrambled to his feet, eyes wild and
panting. 
Lucius regarded him calmly. “You cost me quite a lot of money, you know. I sent
my informant out to find you nearly four years ago. They’ve been keeping tabs
on you since. Then I had to pay to have you brought here as quickly as
possible,” he said almost conversationally.
“I think you have the wrong guy,” the man said lowly, beginning to eye the
knife.
“Do I?” Lucius asked gently and began to stalk him, making the man walk in a
counterclockwise direction to avoid him. “Are you not one of the people who
worked the place referred to as the Hold? I was told it was your job to make
pick ups when a luckless child had been found and bodyguard duty when buyers
came on board.”
Sweat gleamed on the man’s face and chest. His eyes darted frantically around
the circle. He’d already discovered there was some type of invisible force
keeping him inside. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”
Lucius voice hardened. “Your denials bore me.” He strode forward, making the
man cower back against the invisible wall. “We both know who you are.” He bent
and snatched up the dagger and very deliberately placed it in the man’s hand.
“There are only two ways you’re getting out of this circle. By killing me or
dying. Are you ready?”
The man lunged.
Lucius, heart thundering in his chest, knocked the man’s arm aside and shoved
him from behind as he stumbled past. The thug slammed against the invisible
wall and bounced off, grunting, his nose broken and bleeding. Spinning around
on his knees, he bared his teeth like an animal, eyes locked on Lucius.
“You were there on that filthy boat. You even interacted with a blond child who
was kept in the dark depths, a type of pet to your boss.”
The man jumped to his feet, slashing the dagger out at throat level, but Lucius
leaned back and kicked him in the gut. The thug slammed once more against the
barrier, this time the back of his head impacting with painful force. Groaning,
the man collapsed half-unconscious on the ground. 
“Brought him food on occasion, made sure he was doing his job keeping the other
kids in line.” Lucius stomped brutally on the man’s hand, making him scream and
release the dagger. “You may not remember his name. It was Draco.” He grabbed
the worm by the hair and pulled his head back. “Draco Malfoy, actually. My
son.” And he slid the blade with graceful force across the front of the man’s
throat.
Choking and sputtering, the violent gush of blood slowed as the thug bled out.
It was an easy death, too easy for filth like him.
Lucius tipped his head back and roared his fury to the heavens. The hum within
the circle became a physical force that pressed against his skin and resonated
in his core. He glanced down at the thug he’d killed and cast a wandless
severing charm to remove the man’s head completely. 
Gripping the man’s hair once more, Lucius lifted his trophy. Blood dripped from
the neck and hit the ground with a sound like rain. Lucius placed it before the
amber statue and knelt. Bellatrix sat across from him on the other side of the
stone, eyes bright and cheeks flushed with lust. Her wild dark curls framed her
face beautifully. Lucius felt heat pool in his groin as he stared into her
eyes. 
The amber was glowing with its own light now, brighter than the torches.
Lucius, filled with power from the ritual, easily summoned Bellatrix’s left
cuff from the ground, pulling her arm with it. She was yanked slightly forward
and off balance, her right hand still held on the ground at her side. He held
her wrist in place with his left hand and picked up the danger in his right. 
He’d been researching how to break magical bonds for years, hoping to convince
Draco to sever his tie to Harry. As soon as he’d made the Unbreakable Vow, he’d
known exactly what he’d have to do, and he’d known exactly what ritual to use. 
He used her Mark as the focus, basically teaching the spell what to target.
Bellatrix screamed as he cut into her flesh, outlining the Dark Mark. Blood
quickly coated her arm, obscuring his view, but he knew the shape by heart. He
carved into her flesh, tracing the faded skull and snake again and again. 
Lucius ignored her screams. Chanting in a mix of Latin and old Gaelic, he
called upon the power of Summer to break bonds and destroy. He invited it to
burn out the old. He called upon the Great God Lugh, the one he’d summoned and
honored with sacrifices and battle, on His cross-quarter day, Lughnasadh. He
asked the God to grant him this boon. 
Chanting, praying, spell-weaving, Lucius swayed with the building power.
Bellatrix’s arm remained pinned on the head of the brightly glowing amber
statue by the ritual and leather. Her blood coated the stone, somehow not
diminishing its light. She thrashed in agony as the raw, wild magic flooded her
bond to the Dark Lord. In minutes, she had screamed herself hoarse. 
Yelling over her, Lucius lifted the dagger from her skin and flung her arm
away. Panting, adrenaline and magic nearly shaking him apart, he deliberately
placed his left arm atop the blood-soaked amber statue. Calling for the God one
last time, he stabbed the dagger brutally down into his Dark Mark. 
It was like being struck with lightning. Pure power - red hot and searing -
rushed into his body. The pain was indescribable. It whited out everything…  
When he came to, the sun was beginning to rise. The statue had gone dark with
Bellatrix’s and his blood drying on it. The dead-man’s head was in his line of
vision, as well as Bellatrix who was slumped unconscious behind the statue. 
Lucius sat up slowly. He felt strangely empty and yet had crystal clear focus.
He felt the way his hair slid around his shoulders, having fallen from his bun;
he was aware of the sharp smell of grass and blood; he noticed all the facets
of each quartz that ringed him in; but mostly he stared at the white scar
tissue on the inside of his left forearm. It looked like an abstract blob in no
particular shape. The edges were spider-webbed and thin like a star burst. It
was faint and only slightly raised, looking decades old. 
He was alive. 
He could still feel the hum of magic in his core. 
The ritual had worked, and he hadn’t lost his mind or magic. His bond to the
Dark Lord had been broken.
Lucius flung his head back and laughed. 
… 
August passed mostly uneventfully for Draco and Harry. Remus visited nearly
every day and supervised their explorations into London, but baseball was over
and Andromeda was withdrawn and brooding over Dora. They usually made a few
visits to the Weasleys when they stayed with Andromeda, but she wasn’t feeling
up to it and Molly had her hands full preparing another child for their first
year at Hogwarts. Draco would have insisted, to see Percy, but come September
they would be living with the older boy, so he let things be. 
The boys returned to the manor to spend the last three days of August with the
Malfoys. After dinner, Lucius asked them to join him in the parlor. Narcissa
settled in her favorite chair. It was padded with no arms. She sat gracefully,
her knees leaning to one side, her pale blue dress falling to the floor. Her
back was straight, posture perfect. Her long golden blond hair sat coiled on
her head. She gave a calm smile as Lucius handed her a drink of dark amber
liquid. 
He sat in an armchair at an angle to her own so that he could easily see the
love seat the boys had chosen as well as his wife. The boys sat next to each
other as was their norm. Harry, messy hair and glasses, was leaning against
Draco’s shoulder, perfectly content as he listened to Draco and Narcissa talk. 
Lucius took a sip of his drink, feeling smug. He knew Draco and Narcissa were
aware of his mood, but they were letting him set the pace. Narcissa was telling
the boys about starting Hogwarts: A Historytogether before they left for school
and the picnic she’d like to have on the lawn for lunch. 
Setting his drink aside, Lucius cleared his throat. All eyes turned to him.
Even Harry sat up and regarded him attentively. He gave them a slow, smug
smile. “I’d like to inform you that I have successfully removed the Dark Mark.”
Three sets of eyes watched with bated breath as Lucius rolled up his sleeve
past his elbow, revealing the new scar. 
Draco rose from the couch and padded across the room. He grabbed Lucius’s arm
and stared at the slightly paler and shinier skin and then looked up into
Lucius’s smug eyes. “How’s this possible?”
Narcissa felt as if time itself had stopped and she stared unblinkingly at her
husband.
Harry looked up at Narcissa. The look on her face was hard to describe, but it
was clear that she felt something really strongly. He turned his eyes back to
Draco, who was holding Lucius’s now scarred arm and quietly demanding answers.
“I did enough research into breaking bonds,” Lucius explained. “I felt
confident the ritual I had found would work.”
“Yet you told me nothing,” Narcissa said softly, voice strangely neutral. 
Lucius tipped his head in acknowledgment. His smug smile melted into something
more solemn. “There was nothing you could have done to help if everything went
as planned, and I didn’t want you caught up in the vicinity had the magic
become unstable.”
Narcissa said nothing to that, but her eyes clearly showed her dissatisfaction
with that answer.
Draco released Lucius’s arm, asking curiously, “Is this because of the Vow?”
His son’s young, serious voice resonated in Lucius’s memory: “Do you swear to
preserve Harry Potter’s life to the best of your ability? Do you swear to honor
the bond between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy? Do you swear to work toward the
complete destruction of the Dark Lord Voldemort so that he can never return?” 
He had agreed to all of Draco’s terms thus the three wire-like scars that
wrapped his right hand, wrist, and forearm, the Unbreakable Vow now embedded in
his very core. He had not required the same of Draco. Instead, he had simply
accepted the boy’s promise. Binding Draco to something that could kill him
would defeat the purpose of continuing the Malfoy legacy anyway, and the honest
truth was that Lucius wasn’t sure Draco was capable of truly caring about
something like that. Draco’s concerns would always revolve around Harry.
“The Vow did not require this specific action,” Lucius answered gravely,
meeting and holding Draco’s eyes. “However, I felt that the Dark Mark could
come into conflict with the Vow in the future and thought to preempt that
eventuality. I also wanted you to know I am fully on your side now, Vow or
no.” 
Draco gave a slow smile that bloomed into a full grin. “Good to know, and
congratulations.” He turned to Harry and green eyes caught his expectantly.
“Grab Pandora’s notes, please.”
“Yes, Draco,” Harry answered and immediately left the room.
Lucius frowned. “Pandora’s notes? Pandora Lovegood?”
Draco crossed his arms and smirked. “You didn’t think I didn’t have a plan, did
you? Harry and I have been working on them since she died, but we don’t know
that much about magic, so it’s been slow going.” His expression turned serious.
“You can’t use anything you learn in these notes for anything other than
destroying the Dark Lord. I want your promise.” He looked back and forth from
Narcissa to Lucius. “And you can’t share them with anyone. Not even if you
think they could help you figure it out. I had a vision about them. The
knowledge within could destroy the world. We can’t risk it getting out.”
“I swear it,” Narcissa promised easily. 
“I swear,” Lucius echoed, giving his son a firm nod.
Draco nodded back, his silky hair falling around his face. 
Harry returned with a thin leather-bond tome that was taller than it was wide.
The pages were uneven and stuck out at odd angles. He passed it to Draco and
stood at his side patiently. 
“Dobby!” Draco called, tucking his hair behind his ears. The elf appeared. “A
table, please.”
The elf disappeared and then returned, both hands outspread. Lottie stood next
to him and she maneuvered the parlor chairs and love seats to the walls, making
room for the table Dobby had brought. It was the one from the sunroom. The one
Draco and Harry studied at during their lessons with Narcissa. It was perfect.
Draco set the book down and opened it. Taking out the loose papers that he and
Harry had worked on, he spread them out. “Most of this is Pandora’s theories
and experiments on magical cores. Then there’s the research she gathered by
other wizards and witches into the study of the soul, which is definitely
different from the mind, but other than that they really don’t know much for
sure. They have lots of theories, though.” Draco turned a few pages ahead and
pointed to a specific section. “This is where Pandora drew several points of
connection between magical cores and souls. She completed some experiment that
involved wands, a brain-dead wizard who donated his body to further their
research, a few Muggles, a living Squib, and some animals both magical and
Muggle. Most of it Harry and I don't understand, but we do understand that she
concluded that the magical core rests inside the soul. She believed them to be
one-in-the-same, actually, based on her results.”
Lucius and Narcissa stared wide-eyed at the diagrams, complicated Arithmancy,
runic formulas, and notes penned in a very neat, mechanical way that covered
every inch of every page. Then they took in the more childish handwriting on
the loose-leaf notes that the boys had been working on in secret for years. A
lot of it was definitions as they tried valiantly to understand the extremely
complicated notebook, but they had come up with some theories and conclusions
of their own, too. 
One page in particular stood out to Narcissa and she lifted it in her perfectly
manicured hand. “She believed that the Dark Lord’s core is attached to Harry
for the purpose of resurrection because it contains or is somehow linked to his
soul. You’ve added here that it couldn’t have been purposeful, which might make
it easier break.”
“Yes.” Draco nodded. “By all accounts, the Dark Lord came to Godric’s Hollow
when he wasn’t supposed to have been able to. Sirius Black was the Secret
Keeper. He was at the house first, but I assume he wasn’t there when whatever
had happened happened. Hagrid didn’t get to the house until an hour and a half
or so after whatever had happened, and Sirius Black was just exiting with a
still bleeding Harry in his arms. Hagrid saw the Dark Mark in the sky, but it
was fading. He saw no other Death Eaters. He heard no sounds. So if the Dark
Lord came with anyone they had long ago fled. I’d love to question Sirius
Black, actually.”
“What’s that have to do with Harry’s condition?” Lucius asked diplomatically.
“That it wasn’t purposefully done. The Dark Lord couldn't have intended
whatever happened that night. Something went wrong. He either meant to kill
Harry and it backfired in a weird way or he meant to make a full transfer, but
if he meant to make a full transfer, he would have brought Death Eaters. They
would have expected his body to be destroyed and would have taken Harry,
thinking he was their Lord. They didn’t. Harry was left, bleeding but
relatively unharmed for Sirius Black to find and remove from the house.
Therefore, I can only conclude that the Dark Lord tried to kill Harry,
something weird happened, and the Dark Lord was struck with something that
would have killed him. Somehow a temporary bond formed and a part of the Dark
Lord’s core or soul, however you want to look at it, got attached to Harry in
an effort to survive.” Draco looked to the messy-haired boy at his side. “This
is where Harry’s theory comes in.” 
The boy blushed a bit and shifted on his feet nervously, but then he settled
and lifted his eyes. He pushed his glasses up his nose. “Since the Black core
is only a piece compared to mine or Draco’s that means that the bulk of the
Black core is still somewhere else. If it had died, the Black in me would be
more active and trying to survive. Right now it’s sleeping because the bigger
part of itself is surviving, so it has no purpose, like clothes in a closet
until you need it. If we can un-attach it without making it protect itself,
then we could store it in a different place.” He carefully took the book and
turned to a different page. “See, this is the diagram that made me think of it.
See how the wand’s core surges when the wood is snapped, sometimes casting
powerful, unintentional spells? It’s instinct. It knows it’s being damaged. It
wants to survive, but a good wand maker is able to re-core a wand without the
core reacting like that. It should be possible with me, too.”
“That supports what I saw during the experiment Pandora took me to witness,”
Draco added, voice low and cold. “The Black core just… expanded and began
gobbling up the magical core it was attached to to get more power, but the
container couldn’t take it…” Draco swallowed down the nausea.
Narcissa and Lucius were silent for a long minute, just taking all of this
information in. Eventually, she said, “So you think it’s possible to re-core
the Black into another container, but there’s no one who would have experience
doing such a thing without damaging Harry.”
Draco tiled his hand back and forth in a ‘sort of’ gesture. “Yes, but I think
the bigger problem is making sure only the Black core is removed and not
Harry’s core. We’re not sure how to separate them without the Black core seeing
that separation as an attack. There are very few wand makers that can
successfully work with double-cored wands. None of them are British. In fact,
most of them are from India and China.”
“The answer might be here,” Harry admitted, gesturing to Pandora’s notebook.
“But we don’t understand a lot of this.” Guilt laced his voice. “It’s taken
this long just to get a basic understanding of what she’d found out.”
Lucius gently picked up another page of their notes. “Thank you for sharing
this. We will apply ourselves to the problem and make unraveling its mysteries
a priority.”
“Make a copy,” Draco ordered and placed his hand possessively over Pandora’s
notebook. “We’re going to keep working on the original, and I want you to send
me weekly updates.”
Lucius and Narcissa agreed, Lucius adding, “I want updates on your progress, as
well.”
… 
Over the next three days, Narcissa was very clingy, her sadness palpable. The
boys took no lessons. Instead, they had picnics, rode horses, and spent a great
deal of time talking about Pandora’s notebook and Hogwarts. They even started
reading Hogwarts: A History together. The school was founded in 990 A.D., and a
lot had happened there in the one thousand and one years since it had been
built.
On the morning of September first, Lucius pulled Harry aside as they gathered
in the receiving room in preparation of flooing to King’s Cross. The small boy
wore his school robe open over an expensive white-button down tucked into
tailored black slacks. If you looked closely, you’d see that the shirt’s white
buttons were made from imported Arita porcelain and perfectly carved into the
shape of daisies. 
Harry also wore black boots that were actually a girl’s shoe. They had a two
inch heel to put him at the same height as Draco with lace on the sides and
back and were tall, coming above the ankle but not quiet to mid-calf. These
particular shoes did not tie. Instead they buttoned closed and had one row of
silk buttons on each side. Around his neck, a thin, black ribbon was tied into
a loose bow and held his wide, folded over shirt-collar closed, hiding the
leather collar underneath. 
Harry looked back at Lucius with an open expression, black-framed glasses
shielding his remarkably green eyes. His messy hair fell in a tumble over his
forehead and his ears. He looked like a fine and proper gentleman with an
eccentric flare due to his floral buttons and feminine shoes.
Lucius knelt. For so long he’d tried to hold himself distant from this strange
child. Quiet and yet with a core of fierceness; intelligent and yet so
unconfident; devoted to Draco in a way so few people were capable of being,
vulnerable and yet strong; Harry Potter was a complicated mix of qualities. It
was hard not to be fascinated.
“I would have felt more anxiety about Draco attending school were you not
accompanying him,” Lucius told the patiently waiting child. Green eyes blinked
at him and Lucius smiled. He touched Harry’s cheek gently. “I am confident you
will look out for him.” 
Harry gave a big, sweet smile. Surprising Lucius, he stepped forward and hugged
him gently around the neck. “I’ll take are of Draco,” Harry promised with utter
seriousness before pulling away. 
Draco came to stand beside him, taking his hand. He met Lucius’s eyes and gave
a nod of acknowledgment. Lucius returned the gesture and got to his feet, his
heart pumping with surprising warmth from Harry’s affectionate gesture. He was
more strongly affected by Harry’s forgiveness than he had expected to be.
Narcissa gave each boy a fierce hug, but she lingered over Draco. Her son had
cut his hair, so it fell exactly to his jawline. He had tucked both sides
behind his ears, but a thin piece of his bangs too short to reach had fallen to
frame his face. His grey eyes were clear and alert. His school robes were
fastened, but she could see the collar of his white-button up. She knew he’d
closed his robes to hide the fact that he wore Muggle blue jeans. On his feet
were a pair of black, high-top shoes that were mostly cloth with a rubber sole,
the brand Converse stamped on the side. She smiled with affection, knowing
they’d never break him of his love for Muggle fashion. 
“Be careful, Draco,” she reminded her son. “Remember the consequences of being
seen as deviant or dangerous, especially at this age.” 
She had been determined to drill into his head the dangers of the Wizarding
world discovering they were gay as well as the horrible consequences of
seriously hurting or killing other children. She was certain Draco understood,
but she would still worry.
“I’ll remember,” Draco promised, rolling his eyes. “It’s getting late. We
should go.”
…
King’s Cross was a mess of people. For some reason Draco thought of the word
gaggle. He wasn’t even sure what that word meant, but it sounded good. There
was a gaggle of people. They made their way toward the end of the train and
found Andromeda with Dee on her hip with Ted standing by a pillar. Ted’s whole
face softened as he caught sight of his boys. Andromeda smiled, Dee reaching
her little arms out toward Harry with a giggling laugh.
Harry accepted Dee in his arms. The toddler was almost half his height, but she
flung her arms around his neck with clear joy and wrapped her legs around his
waist. 
Ted shook Draco’s hand. “Do your best,” he told the blond. “Try and make as
many friends as you can. You won’t get this time back.”
“I will,” Draco said to appeasing him. Friends weren’t exactly on his to-do
list.
“Learn as much as you can,” Andromeda added, kneeling and pulling Draco into a
hug.
“I will,” he repeated. He turned and pulled Dee into his arms. The little girl
went willingly, her dark curls soft against Draco’s cheek as she pressed her
head against his.
Harry hugged both Andromeda and Ted. They gave him different advice, basically
to ‘have fun’. Draco snorted in amusement. They knew that Harry always did his
best and would make friends with everyone if it were up to him. Harry was also
the one who enjoyed learning new things and would listen with equal attention
to any lesson. Draco, on the other hand, only focused if he thought what he was
learning could be useful. Once he focused, however, Draco was a very dedicated
student, gobbling up as much information as he could get his hands on at an
incredible rate.
“Bye, Dee,” Draco whispered into the little girl’s ear. “See you in summer.”
Harry gave her a hug while Draco was still holding her. “Love you,” he told he
sweetly. 
As Draco passed her back to Ted, Dee began to cry. Harry ducked his head -
guilt - piercing the bond. Draco grabbed his hand firmly in his. He gave
Narcissa and Lucius, who stood impassively, a wave before turning and giving a
more casual salute to Andromeda and Ted. 
“We’ll write,” he told all four of them and tugged Harry toward the train. 
Their two school trunks followed them, Hedwig’s cage secured on Harry’s trunk.
Lucius had spelled them weightless and added a magical tether. Once they were
on board, they only had to tap them with their new wands to cancel both
spells. 
Most of the children and teens around them were loud and jostling each other.
Parents were yelling out comments and commands. Laughter rose in bursts above
it all. Draco cut through them with single-minded purpose, moving toward one of
the doors of the train. He’d written Percy very specific instructions.
Basically whichever of them arrived on the train first was to secure an empty
compartment toward the back. 
Through the open compartment doors, Draco could see kids getting settled on the
two benches facing each other and lifting their trunks into the netting above.
Draco continued down the wood-paneled, narrow walkway, often having to press
himself flat to a wall so other kids could pass. 
The third to the very last compartment was empty. Draco left Harry there to
stand guard and checked the last two on either side. There were kids in all of
them with no sign of Percy. Draco turned back, shoving his floating trunk
upward to duck under it, and hurried inside the empty compartment Harry was
defending. 
A girl about fourteen or so was saying something about she and her friends
usually using this compartment. Draco put his hand on her arm and gently
applied pressure, causing her to step to the side, and planted himself next to
Harry in the doorway and looked up at her with a polite smile.
“Sorry for taking your usual spot, but we’re new and promised our friends we’d
save them seats.  We’re all kind of nervous and promised each other we’d stick
together. They won’t be able to find us if we leave this compartment and
there’s six of us.” He’d already assessed that these compartments would only
hold about six students comfortably, so his lie made it clear he couldn’t
‘share’. “If you let us use it this year, I promise we’ll make it up to you.”
By this point, another girl had joined the first and they had realized who
Draco and Harry were. They agreed instantly and wished them a good ride with
their friends. Giggling, they moved off. As Draco remained in the doorway
giving his spiel to whomever tried to enter - only two more groups of students,
all of which went away as easily as the first two girls had - Harry busied
himself with their trunks. 
Clever boy that he was, he decided to push and shove the floating trunks into
the netting before tapping them with his wand and canceling the spells. He had
to stand on the bench seats to do it, but eventually he got them in place. They
were too heavy for him to lift without the spells. Hedwig’s cage he settled
safely on the floor under the window. 
A loud whistle pierced the air and the volume of voices outside the train
increased. Draco looked out the window at the surging crowd of families and
late students and, when he turned back, Percy stood in front of him. Draco gave
a smile and stood aside, letting the redhead into their compartment. 
Percy looked a lot different from the eleven-year-old boy they had first met.
Now, Percy had just turned fifteen last month and stood at five feet seven
inches. He was still thin but with wider shoulders. His eyes were the same
brown, however he now wore glasses. They were black and cat-eyed shaped and
horned-rimmed. His hair was nearly the same, cut short in the back and longer
at the front, letting the tight curls spill over his forehead.  
“Percy,” Draco said in welcome as the older teen shut the compartment door
behind them. 
“Draco,” Percy replied, tone formal and stuffy.
Draco smiled, amused. Percy could act all high-and-mighty with everyone else
but them. They had seen Percy at his lowest and their relationship required
them to be honest and intimate with each other. 
“How are you?” Draco asked, patiently waiting for Percy to get comfortable.
The redhead took out his wand and cast the few locking and warding spells that
he knew at the door. He turned back to the two eleven-year-olds and pushed his
glasses up his nose. “I’m well, thank you.”
“We’re going to have to keep our eye on Pucey and his group,” Draco said,
taking a seat next to Harry. “He’s already made some comments while we were
getting fitted for school robes.”
Percy nodded and added, “His group consists of about twelve in Slytherin from
various year groups Third-year and above with a few hanger-ons that change.
There are a few in Ravenclaw who have also said some things that make me think
they’re Dark sympathizers as well.”
Draco nodded, Percy had already told him as much in his owled reports. 
The seats in the compartment were comfortable with padded benches and a
slightly curved padded back. The window was small, but allowed them to see the
platform outside. Another whistle blew, followed by three quick bursts. The
train lurched forward. Parents stood waving as they train very slowly pulled
out of the station. Soon bright sunlight came streaming into the window and the
buildings of London began to pass by. The train gathered speed with another
loud, long whistle blowing.
Draco returned his attention to Percy. The teen was staring pensively out the
window. “No one’s bothered you at night?”
Percy turned his eyes to Draco. “No.” There was relief in his voice as well as
gratitude. “The snake still works.”
“How faded is it?” Draco stood and crossed the narrow space between them.
Percy carefully lifted his glasses from his face and set them on the seat next
to him. He turned sideways, facing the door instead of the window and pulled
his red button-down from his slacks. He leaned forward, exposing his lower
back.
A faded red snake lay curled in a ball with its triangular head resting on its
top coil. There was no movement, looking like a decades old Muggle tattoo.
Draco lightly ran his fingers over it, noticing how it was too faded to see the
distinct scales anymore. He could barely sense his magic. It was definitely
time to renew it. 
Percy had his head bowed forward with unconscious submission as Draco examined
him. Warmth bloomed in Draco’s stomach and he stroked the tattoo again, this
time in approval. “Are you ready?” he asked softly.
Percy nodded, but he knew that wouldn’t be enough.
Draco used his thumb nail to trace the outline of the snake. “Are you ready,
Percy?” he asked again, always demanding a verbal answer.
“Yes. I’m ready,” Percy whispered.
“Make sure the compartment is locked tight. Take your shirt off and get on your
knees. Bend over the seat.” Draco’s eyes flashed to Harry as Percy moved to
obey. “I want you ready and sitting on the bench next to him. Leave your boots
on and hook your heels on the edge of the seat. Spread your thighs.” 
Percy had flushed red, but he was soon naked to the waist with his pants
unbuttoned so that they barely covered his butt. He buried his head into his
folded arms and waited. Draco’s attention was on Harry, however. 
The slender boy had slipped out of his robe, untied his tie and unbuttoned his
white shirt. He then shimmied out of his pants completely. Draco had seen him
dress that morning, but the image of Harry in thigh-high, black silk socks and
black high-heeled lace boots still took his breath away. It made Harry’s legs
look like they went on for days and Draco had the urge to lick the line where
silk ended and flesh began. 
Harry set his back against the padded wall of the compartment and set his heels
at the edge of the seat as Draco had ordered. Then he spread his thin, pale
thighs, exposing himself completely, his knees bent and held next to his chest
by his arms. Percy was directly next to him, his chest flat on the seat, his
side touching Harry’s booted foot. A white-silver dragon with blue highlights
on each tiny scale was inked with incredible detail into the skin on Harry’s
right side. The tattoo was Draco’s claim on Harry, telling the world the boy
belonged to him.
It was about four inches long and three tall. It had tiny silver scales along
its triangular snake-like head that doubled in size above the cat-like eyes to
form two crests that rose off the back of its head. Larger scales also pointed
outward along its back and long tail, reminding Draco of Harry's messy hair
somehow. Probably because the scales weren't in orderly roes but slightly
jumbled and almost lying flat. Like Percy's tattoo it was growing slowly larger
and longer over time. 
Two white-silver leathery wings curled upward like a bat's. It had four scaled
paws with three, multi-jointed talons on each foot. Its body was muscular and
round, also like a cat's. There were hints of blue in the shadows of the scales
and wings, but mostly the dragon was a pure silver-white. Its eyes, sitting on
the sides of its rounded face, were a deep, dark green - the color of Draco's
magic - only a shade or two darker than Harry's eyes, which were pale emerald
in color. 
The dragon’s wings were spread, the head arching in a sensual line as Draco
watched. Its tail dropped to curl in a loose spiral on Harry’s lower stomach
just above the boy’s groin. Draco knelt between Harry’s spread legs. He licked
at the dragon’s tail, causing it to curl more tightly and Harry’s member to
stiffen. 
Humming, Draco reverently put his lips to the top of the silk stocking and
licked and sucked at them, soaking the material and wetting Harry’s inner thigh
with his spit. He was obsessed with that transition from silk to skin, had been
from the very beginning when his boy began wearing them. 
Harry moaned quietly, his head falling back to rest against the wall, pink lips
parting sensually. Pleasure desire submission - pooled through the bond like
warm syrup, increasing Draco’s own desire ten-fold.
As Draco bit down on Harry’s silk-covered thigh, the boy arched in a beautiful
line, thighs spreading impossibly wider. The sounds of Harry softly panting
breaths filled the compartment and Percy groaned into his arms. Draco used his
palm to press firmly against Harry’s penis, pressing it against his lower
stomach. His thumb caressed the juncture of his groin and thigh, making Harry
shiver. 
Draco turned his attention to Percy. He reached forward with his dominate left
hand and scratched gently at the faded tattoo. Percy’s hips involuntarily
rocked against he bench seat. Draco smiled wolfishly and asked again, voice
husky, “You ready?”
Percy pressed is forehead into the seat and tilted this head down so that his
mouth was clear. “Yes!” he stated firmly, sweating and wanting to get this over
with.
Draco took his hands off both boys and unfastened his school robe, letting it
hang open. He unlatched his pants and bent forward to lick a hot line up
Harry’s small, hard shaft. Harry bit his lip hard, a muffled whine escaping his
throat as shocks of almost painful pleasure burst through him. 
Draco, all silver-eyed and focused, stood and pressed their groins together.
The blond rolled his hips sensually, the heat of the pressure making Harry’s
nipples hard while the sting of the dry friction made him gasp. He watched
through dazed eyes as Draco bit into his palm. 
Draco’s magic filled the compartment with a deadly energy and his teeth sank
into his skin like butter. The smell of hot, fresh blood saturated the air
instantly. Draco reached over and pressed his bleeding hand against Percy’s
tattoo. He pressed against the teen’s back in a rhythmic pattern, forcing the
older teen’s hips to rock against the seat. Percy groaned and picked up the
rhythm voluntarily. Draco grinned, sharp and bright as he watched the boy work
toward his own pleasure. 
* This one is mine, *he thought fiercely and his magic responded. Blood and
magic absorbed into the snake. Slowly, it began to gain more color and life,
recharging with Draco’s power. 
During the course of Percy’s first year at Hogwarts, someone had been molesting
him at night, holding him down and taking their pleasure from his unwilling
body. Draco had been furious; furious that Hogwarts wasn’t safe, furious that
kids were being raped. He’d claimed Percy and put his protecting mark on him,
turning him into his spy at Hogwarts. 
Percy was writhing against the bench seat now, his head flung back, sweat
darkening his hair and rolling down his extended throat. His face was slack
with pleasure as Draco’s hot magic poured into him, reasserting his claim and
protection. The promise of that absolute safety nearly brought Percy over the
edge. He was grunting now, mouth working at the air as he teetered at the edge.
Draco’s face went pale as he lost a dangerous amount of power. His head dropped
forward just close enough that Harry could lick in quick desperate jabs with
the very tip of his tongue at his blood-smeared chin. The taste of Draco’s
blood was intoxicating, and as Draco continued to rock against him pushing pain
and pleasure through his entire body, Harry’s magic began to rise, catching and
matching Draco’s power, bolstering it.  
Draco’s eyes brightened as Harry’s magic joined his. His thrusting hips picked
up speed, energy rushing through him. Percy came with a choked cry, his body
going rigid before collapsing limply forward into his own mess. Draco ripped
his bleeding hand away and shoved it toward Harry’s hungry mouth. Harry latched
on as if he were starving and sucked and licked at the deep bite. 
Draco groaned as Harry’s healing magic pierced through him with sharp stabs of
pleasure that went straight to his core. He tore his hand away and grabbed
Harry’s thighs, pulling the boy’s heels and butt off the edge of the seat. He
bent over the smaller boy and rutted against him in earnest. 
Harry’s long legs and feet bounced as Draco thrust against his body. The magic
tightened like a spring, green eyes glowed to match Draco’s silver, and then
they came together, bodies tightening and Draco’s hips pressing in with
bruising force. 
Harry’s mind went blank as his toes curled. Draco collapsed to his knees,
sliding down Harry’s sweat-soaked chest and resting his head in the boy’s damp
lap. They panted and gasped, trying to get their wind back. Percy was just
beginning to sit back on his knees, cheeks a furious red as he looked at the
mess smeared across the seat, his stomach, and groin.
Draco slid off of Harry and sat with his back to the seat. He didn’t bother
trying to do up his pants or cover himself. His whole body tingled with the
aftermath of their orgasm and sex magic. He slapped at the outside of Harry’s
thigh. 
Harry obediently sat up and sank to his knees on the floor. He put his mouth to
the heated skin of Percy's lower stomach, making the redhead’s blush cover his
entire face.Satisfaction pleasure- thrummed through him, knowing he was being
useful. He quickly licked Percy clean, the teen covering his eyes and holding
tensely still. Then he turned his face to the seat and began to suck the mess
off the upholstery. 
Draco watched his boy with a contented smile curling his lips. Harry’s
happiness filled him with sunlight. Seeing Harry bent over, his white shirt
falling just short of the bottom of his butt cheeks, his thighs encased in silk
socks and wearing heels as he sucked Percy’s cum from the seats made him feel
incredibly hot. He’d never get enough of Harry. 
“That’s enough. My turn,” he said roughly. 
He grabbed hold of Harry’s hair as the boy turned and happily descended on his
lap, licking and sucking Draco clean of the small amount of clear fluid that
he’d ejaculated. Draco tugged hard on Harry’s hair, bringing the boy’s mouth to
his face where some of Harry’s cum had smeared across Draco’s cheek. 
As Harry’s hot, wet tongue ran over his skin again and again, Draco turned his
head and captured Harry’s mouth in a deep and nearly violent kiss. Draco’s
tongue scoured every inch of the inside of Harry’s mouth, stealing the taste. 
Percy, heart slowly calming, pulled his shirt on and fastened his pants.
Languidly, he watched the two boys make-out. The passion in their eyes and
mouths was undeniable. It made him think of a particular Ravenclaw girl in his
year. 
As Harry sat back, straddling Draco’s waist, a thin line of spit connecting
their swollen mouths, Percy announced, “I’ve been exchanging letters with a
girl. If I… if we…” He gestured at Draco and Harry meaningfully. “Do you think
the tattoo will hurt her?”
Draco pushed at Harry, making the boy climb to his feet. He accepted Harry’s
hand and stood. “Turn around. Lift your shirt.”
Percy faced the window this time and bent forward, lifting his shirt and
exposing the now bright red snake with each tiny scale etched in perfect detail
fading from blood red to almost black along each edge. It peered at them
through yellow-green eyes at the small of Percy’s back. It was half the size of
Draco's clenched fist when curled up and about seven inches long when stretched
out. It was growing with Percy, gaining about an inch every year they recharged
it.
Draco fastened his pants and sat heavily on the seat as Harry hissed at the
tattoo.
“Your host wants to find a mate. Will you know the difference between his mate
and the man who hurt him?” Harry asked the blood snake. He stood in his open
dress shirt, stockings, and shoes, but he didn’t feel self-conscious. For too
many years Draco and he had gone with little to no clothes, so nudity didn’t
bother them.
The snake titled its ruby head curiously. 
“Do you know when your host is scared or upset?”Harry asked in a different way.
This time the snake nodded. 
“A short time ago your host was feeling good and had some of his clothes off.
Did you want to bite?”
The snake flexed his neck in pleasure and shook his head.
“That’s right. Do not bite unless your host is scared or hurt, okay? When
people come against him and take his clothes off and your host feels good, do
not hurt them.”
The snake nodded again and yawned before curling up and resting its head on its
red coils to go to sleep. 
Harry smiled as Percy turned around and sat normally on the seat. Harry told
him what he’d discussed with the snake and Percy smiled in relief. 
“Thank you,” Percy said, voice soft and sincere. He carefully kept his eyes
away from Harry’s mostly naked body.
Draco smirked, smug satisfaction radiating from him, as he pulled Harry in
close to his side.
Chapter end.
***** Getting Things Sorted *****
A/N: I just wanted to remind everyone that Pixi56on AO3 has created amazing
multi-chaptered fanart for this series. 
Also, it has come to my attention there is more incredible art on Instagram if
you search #sensiblytainted. 
Check it out and leave comments! It’s so cool!
Getting Things Sorted
Draco and Harry treasured their time alone on the ride to Hogwarts. They knew
they would get very little of it while at school between classes and sharing a
dorm room with others, so they cuddled and took naps on each other’s shoulders,
talked in quiet murmurs about Hogwarts, played with Hedwig, and exchanged soft
kisses. All too soon, the whistle blew and, with an almost regretful sigh,
Draco got them both up and made sure their clothes and robes were put to
rights. Ten minutes later, the train slowed to a rocking stop as it pulled into
Hogsmeade Station.
Draco popped his head out of their compartment and asked a passing kid what
they should do with their trunks. He was impatiently informed to leave them,
that the Hogwarts’ elves would take care of it. Harry took hold of Hedwig’s
cage and Draco firmly grabbed his other hand as they followed the press of loud
and rowdy kids off the train. 
The sun was setting; dusk enveloped the platform. They were faced with a brick
wall with a red sign with white letters that read Hogsmeade. Green trees and
gas lamps stood along the way. As they were pushed along with the crowd of
students, Draco caught sight of Hagrid standing over three times as tall as the
kids around him at the end of the platform. 
“First years! First years, follow me!” 
Hagrid didn’t look any different from when they had met him on Diagon Alley.
The same patchwork coat and leather pants, the same bristly beard and happy
grin. Draco guided Harry that way. The older kids continued on passed Hagrid
onto a street that would presumably take them to Hogwarts. Draco bumped into
Ron as the redhead also pulled away from the crowd. 
“Oh, hey,” Ron said once he realized it was Draco. “I looked for you on the
train.”
Draco shrugged, offering no explanation, and came to a stop in front of the
Ground’s Keeper. 
Ron caught Harry’s eyes and stuck his tongue out at the blond’s back. Harry
smiled nervously, ducking his head. A sharp tug on his hand brought Harry’s
head up and his public mask of serenity in place. Pansy pushed in on Draco’s
other side. She somehow managed to smile and scowl at the same time. Vince and
Greg lurked behind her.
“I looked for you everywhere,” she hissed.
Draco gave her the same shrug he’d given Ron, which made the redhead smirk.
Pansy huffed, tossing her shoulder-length black hair dismissively before
crossing her arms.
“Arry!” Hagrid boomed, spotting him. His grin grew impossibly wider.
“Hello, Hagrid,” Harry greeted the man politely, his head craned back to look
him in the eye.
“You ready to go to school?” Hagrid asked with a playful tone. “Follow me! Yer
gonna love this!”
The kids around them shuffled their feet as they realized The Harry Potter and
Draco Malfoy were among them. Hagrid, oblivious to the sudden tension in the
group, turned and took a side path that led behind the station. None of the
kids moved, too busy staring at Draco and Harry. 
Draco sighed and tugged Harry after him, following the giant man down the hill.
Ron, Pansy, Greg, and Vince came quickly after. They didn’t talk. Darkness was
falling quickly now and they had to step carefully if they didn’t want to
fall. 
The path went through a thin line of tall trees when they suddenly stepped out
onto a beach with a wooden dock that stretched out onto a choppy lake. Five
small wooden boats were lined on one side of the dock, six on the other. Hagrid
strode out onto the wooden planks, calling, “Four to’a boat! Come on now. Time
ta go.”
The dock hadn’t looked all that sturdy, but seeing Hagrid walking easily down
the length reassured Draco. He took the lead and stepped onto the wooden
planks. Hagrid took the sixth boat at the far end. Draco, Harry, Ron, and Pansy
climbed into the one next to the large man. Greg and Vince took the boat next
to that one. A black boy and a dark-haired girl got in with them.
Each boat had a glowing yellow lamp on a short pole on the front and they
flickered to life as soon as someone stepped inside. Soon enough all eleven
lamps had flickered to life, creating a warm glow in the night. A cool wind
blew up from the lake and Harry leaned against Draco’s side. Draco put his arm
around Harry’s shoulders, confident neither Ron nor Pansy would think anything
of it. They were somewhat used to them, after all.
The boats launched smoothly away from the dock on their own. They rocked gently
side to side as they cut across the water further out onto the lake, following
after Hagrid’s boat. The trees along the lake edge grew dense and thick the
further they went. Rocky cliffs suddenly rose around them. They turned a corner
and Hogwarts came into view for the first time.
Harry sucked in a breath. Even Draco felt his mouth fall slightly open. The
castle was huge! Tall towers and massive buildings, elegant bridges and
hundreds of glowing windows; it was the most magical thing any of them had ever
seen.
“Blimey,” Ron breathed. 
“It’s beautiful,” Pansy agreed.
They eyed each other suspiciously. 
Draco snorted, amused. 
Harry’s manners kicked in and he introduced them, saying, “Pansy, this is Ron
Weasley. He’s on the summer baseball team we’ve told you about. Ron, this is
Pansy Parkinson. She visits us at the manor.”
“Be nice,” Draco added, smiling, but there was a subtle warning in his tone.
Pansy sniffed and turned her head away, putting her nose in the air. 
Ron scowled at her before pointedly returned his attention to the castle.
“Wonder which one is Gryffindor Tower,” he asked.
“I read in Hogwarts: A Historythat Gryffindor stands for the Fire element. That
means the tower should be to the South,” Harry answered.
Draco looked up at the sky, found an orientation point and pointed. “That’s
north..." His finger swung in the opposite direction. "So it’s probably that
one.”
Ron looked at the tower Draco was pointing to and grinned. “It’s so awesome!”
Pansy made a rude noise. “What’s so awesome about a windy tower? I bet it rocks
when it storms. No thanks!”
Ron scowled at her. “Let me guess. You’d prefer the slimy dungeons.”
Pansy opened her mouth to give him a scathing retort, but Draco interrupted.
“Quiet. We’re almost there.” 
They weren’t really. They were still about five minutes out, but Ron and Pansy
both thankfully shut up. Draco mentally sighed. This was going to be a long
year. 
The little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy, which hid a wide
opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, the golden
lamps from their boats seeming to dim in the utter blackness. Harry whispered
that they were probably under the castle. The voices of the other children
bounced eerily off the walls while the sound of water lapping at stone was
magnified. They emerged inside a cave-like cavern in an underground harbor.
Each boat drifted one at a time to a flat shelf along the shore. 
Hagrid disembarked first. He stood there grinning cheerfully. “Welcome to
Hogwarts, Firsties!” he boomed. “Line up over there now. Let everyone get
ashore.”
Once the last kid climbed free of the boat, Hagrid led them over to narrow
stairs cut into the stone wall. By the time they reached the top, their calves
were burning. The stairs led to a door that opened onto grass. They stepped out
of the side of the castle and followed Hagrid like ducklings around the corner
and walked up to the massive front doors. They were huge with iron bands
covering its surface. Hagrid pushed them open easily and they swung inward with
a creaky groan. 
Draco stared into the Entrance Hall. Candles were lit along the walls next to
gorgeous paintings and tapestries. Four suits of armor stood at the ready. Two
massive winding staircases went up on both sides of the hall while directly in
front of them were two more tall doors. An elderly witch in a pointed hat and
dark green robes stood waiting for them. 
“I brought the First years,” Hagrid told her jovially.
“Thank you, Mr. Hagrid,” the witch answered him, tone stiff and formal. 
Hagrid gave a salute and found Harry in the crowd. “I’ll be seein’ ya later,
Arry. Good luck!” And then he shut the front doors behind him with a bang.
“Welcome to Hogwarts,” the witch said, drawing their attention. “I am Deputy
Headmistress McGonagall, Transfiguration Professor here at Hogwarts.” Draco’s
attention sharpened at that name. “Now, in a few moments, you’ll pass through
these doors and join your classmates, but before you can be seated you must be
Sorted into your Houses. They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and
Slytherin.” An unconscious chill touched her voice as she named the last House.
Draco lifted an eyebrow at that. “Now, while you’re here, your House will be
like your family. Your triumphs will earn you points. Any rule breaking and you
will lose points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points will
be awarded the House Cup…”
Her stern lecture was interrupted as a boy in the middle of the group cried
out, “Trevor!” A croaking frog hopped up to McGonagall’s feet and the boy
pushed out of the group to scoop it up. As McGonagall stared with an
unimpressed gaze, Draco realized the boy was Neville Longbottom, the kid he’d
met during Beltane.
“Sorry,” the boy muttered weakly, face red with shame.
“The Sorting will begin momentarily,” McGonagall continued. She turned with a
sweep of her robes and went inside the double doors. 
“A toad,” Pansy said in disgust. “Who gets a toad familiar in this day and
age?”
Draco ignored her and edged past Greg and Vince to get a better look at the
boy. As he’d thought, Neville was crying silently with not a hiccup of breath,
tears rolling down his flushed cheeks. The Pleasant girl fostered by Neville’s
family stood at his side, saying, “I told you he’d show up.” Draco took note of
the looks of disdain on the other kids’ faces. Neville hadn’t made any new
friends with his lost toad.
“I got a rat. My brother got an owl this year for being a Prefect, so he passed
him on to me. He knows a lot of tricks,” Ron was saying behind him. 
Draco turned at Pansy’s shriek and saw Ron holding a fat, graying rat in his
hands. The redhead looked delighted by her reaction and shoved it forward in
her direction. 
Greg’s hand grabbed Ron’s arm warningly. “Don’t,” he said simply, making Ron
scowl and jerk away.
McGonagall returned before anything more could occur, and Ron hastily shoved
the rat back into his robe pocket. “We’re ready for you now,” she told them.
The Great Hall was massive. Longer than it was wide, it had hundreds of
floating candles under a ceiling charmed to look like the sky. Four rows of
tables stretched the length of the room. Hundreds of kids sat in long rows at
those tables and watched with only vague interest as the First years marched
inside after McGonagall. The group walked down the hall and stopped in front of
a horizontal table that sat on a raised dais. The teachers were there, looking
out at the students with varying expressions. 
Draco caught Snape’s eye and gave a smirk. The Potion’s Master gave him a
neutral stare in return.
“Now, before we begin, Headmaster Dumbledore would like to say a few words,”
McGonagall told them solemnly. 
Draco blanked his expression and held tight to Harry’s hand as the old wizard
in billowing dark purple robes and a pointed purple hat pressed on the table to
get to his feet. His chair was especially extravagant. The sides made of gold
and with points along the top, looking like a modest throne. 
Dumbledore looked as old and crafty as he had the last time Draco had seen him.
Just as it had been then, Dumbledore’s beard and hair were snow-white and fell
well past his waist. He gave a happy smile to the assembled children, his voice
husky and soft with age. A frown shaded Draco’s features; he wasn’t buying the
weak, old guy act for a second.
“I have a few start of term notices I wish to announce. The First years please
note that the Dark Forest is strictly forbidden to all students. Also, our
Caretaker Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you that the Third Floor corridor on
the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not want to die a
most painful death. Thank you.” Dumbledore gave a vague wave of his hand and
returned to his seat, smiling.
Draco flashed Harry a look. Harry blinked back at him - patient watchful.
Frowning, Draco turned back to McGonagall as she began speaking. 
“Now as I call your name, you shall come forth, I shall put the Sorting Hat on
your head and you’ll be Sorted into your Houses.” She unrolled a parchment and
called the first name. “Abbot, Hannah.”
The girl came forward timidly and was directed to the stool next to McGonagall.
A ratty leather wizard’s hat was placed on her head. 
“Hufflepuff!”
Draco wasn’t sure what the Third Floor corridor was about, but he was not happy
that there was something so dangerous within reach of Harry. Percy had made a
very detailed list about all the dangerous places in Hogwarts, including the
Dark Forest and the more advanced greenhouses among other things, but none of
them had actually been inside the castle walls. 
Draco stared at Dumbledore and realized the old wizard was already looking at
him. He wondered what the old man was up to and narrowed his eyes. Mouthing the
words, ‘We need to talk’, he hoped Dumbledore got the message. 
Vincent was Sorted Slytherin. A few names later Gregory followed him into the
same House. Draco wondered distractedly why no one realized what that meant.
Those two were not as slow as everyone assumed them to be. They had a verbal
handicap, but they were cunning, observant, and had ambitions. 
“Longbottom, Neville!” 
McGonagall had been calling names, but Draco had been too distracted notice. He
only noticed now because it was a name he recognized. They were already at the
L’s; he’d be called soon.
“Gryffindor!”
Draco was pulled from his thoughts as Harry hissed next to him - confusion
pain. Draco turned sharply to see Harry touching his lightning bolt scar.
Draco’s razor sharp eyes shot around the room as he held tightly to Harry’s
arm. 
There were a few students whispering and looking Harry’s way, but none of them
seemed particularly threatening. At the teacher’s table, Snape was the only one
looking directly at them. The man frowned, dark eyes moving to Draco's in
question as he noticed Harry’s pain. Draco moved on, looking for the threat,
but no one stood out. Practically growling, Draco crowded Harry protectively,
running a soothing hand down the boy’s back. 
“Malfoy, Draco!”
Draco didn’t want to leave Harry’s side. He shot Pansy and Ron pointed looks,
tilting his chin subtly at Harry. He wished Vince and Greg were there, but they
were sitting at their new House table. 
Once Pansy and Ron moved into place on either side of Harry, Draco marched up
to the stool. His mind raced, his eyes never once leaving Harry. The four
tables and what seemed a sea of kids were just an unimportant blur in the
background. He was hyperaware of their bond, ready to spring into action should
another bolt of pain come through. His knuckles went white as he sat and
gripped the edge of the stool. He didn’t like this at all. First a deadly Third
Floor corridor and now Harry’s scar had reacted to something for the first
time. 
Harry watched nervously. He hadn’t meant to be distracting. He knew Draco was
unhappy and then his scar had to go and hurt… This was so important and he was
messing it up! 
The hat had barely touched Draco’s head before it shouted, “Slytherin!” 
Harry’s eyes went wide, knowing that wasn’t Draco’s plan. His heartbeat
quickened as he watched McGongall take the hat from Draco’s head. 
The blond stood from the stool and boldly said, “No.” 
The Great Hall fell absolutely silent. 
“I beg your pardon, young man?” McGonagall asked in a very offended tone,
eyebrows nearly touching her hairline.
Draco looked up and gave her a polite smile, his eyes glinting with defiant
amusement. “No, thank you, Professor. I am deeply honored. Slytherin is a great
House, but I choose Gryffindor.”
“That is not how these things are done, Mr. Malfoy,” she stated sternly.
“Please join your House.”
Draco gave her an elegant bow, and then, ignoring the green badge on his left
breast, he walked calmly to the end of the Gryffindor table and sat next to a
wide-eyed Neville Longbottom. 
The older Gryffindor students were on their feet asking him what he thought he
was doing. A few actually booed. Competing with the noise of outrage, Draco
noticed the Weasley twins were standing on the benches cheering. He slanted
them a lopsided grin.
Dumbledore stood once more. This time without the help of the table, Draco
noted absently. The old wizard clapped his hands once and energy brushed over
everyone in the room. Silence fell. “I ask for patience,” he directed to the
room before looking directly at Draco. “We will have a discussion after the
Sorting, Mr. Malfoy.” Blue eyes twinkling over his half-moon glasses, he waved
his hand at McGonagall, sitting again and looking completely unconcerned.
McGonagall huffed and the Gryffindors grumbled, some of the older ones glaring
dangerously, but the Sorting continued without further disruption. 
Draco ignored it all. * Follow the plan, * he told his boy, voice calm and
confident.
Harry looked into Draco’s fearless eyes and took a deep breath. His anxiety
faded as - trust - bloomed in its place. Pansy’s hand slipped into his own.
Harry held it tightly as he turned and faced the Sorting.  
“Warrington-Pleasant, Kevin.”
“Ravenclaw!”
“Longbottom-Pleasant, Hermione.”
The girl they’d met at Beltane pushed past him muttering encouraging words to
herself. She was clearly wracked with worry, but you couldn’t tell by her body
language. She moved with what seemed like confidence, her chin tilted up.
The hat sat on her head for about thirty seconds before calling, “Gryffindor!”
- Nervous worry - began to sneak into Harry’s heart. He knew Draco would get
his way and be made a Gryffindor, there was no doubt of that, but what if the
hat put Harry in the wrong House, too? That would be harder to fix. 
“Parkinson, Pansy.”
Pansy gave Harry’s hand a last squeeze and Ron a pointed look before making her
way to the stool. 
Ron went red, but as Harry’s wide, green eyes turned to him, fear clear in
their depths, he reached out and took Harry’s other hand. Harry’s sweet,
grateful smile gave him the strength to tilt his chin defiantly. There was
nothing wrong with comforting a friend, and he’d punch anyone in the nose who
said otherwise!
“Slytherin!”
Harry smiled, knowing Pansy had gotten the House she had wanted, but it
trembled at the edges. Would he be next? His heart knocked painfully against
his ribs.
* I’ll take care of everything, * Draco’s voice whispered in his mind. * Hush.
*
“Patil, Padma.”
“Ravenclaw!”
Harry took a deep breath and slowly breathed out. Expanding his throat, he felt
his collar press into his skin. It calmed him. I belong to Draco,he mentally
chanted. All would be well as long as that was true.
“Patil, Parvati.”
“Gryffindor!”
Harry took notice at the repeat of the Patil name. The girls were identical.
Taking in Parvati’s smile as she moved toward the Gryffindor table, Harry
thought she seemed okay with being separated from her twin. He couldn’t imagine
that.
“Potter, Harry.”
Harry clutched at Ron’s hand as his hard won calm shattered into - fear. He
stared with wide-eyed horror at the stool. What if he messed this up so badly
that Draco couldn’t fix it?
Ron’s blush deepened as it seemed like the whole school turned to look at them.
Harry seemed frozen. Out of the corner of his eye, Ron saw Draco tense and knew
that nothing good would come from the blond interfering. He’d already acted
like a crazy bastard by refusing his Sorting. Ron had to try and stop him from
doing anything crazier!
He pulled his hand free, stepped behind Harry, and gripped his shoulders. “You
got this, Harry. You’re on the mound. Bases are loaded. Draco’s called the
pitch. You just got to get it to him, yeah?” Ron said quietly but clearly and
then pushed Harry forward.
Harry stumbled a bit, his heels clicking on the floor in the silence. The image
Ron had given him settled his nerves. He’d been in tight spots before. He’d
pitched in games where they were losing, the whole team’s hopes riding on his
throw, but Draco was always there crouched behind home plate, calling the
play. 
Harry turned to sit on the stool and his eyes connected with Draco’s stormy
grey. The blond gave him the same cocky grin that he wore during a game, all
cool confidence and amusement. Harry’s nerves disappeared completely. Draco had
him. 
The Sorting Hat fell over Harry’s eyes.“Interesting,” a dusty voice said into
his mind. 
Harry went rigid. Snape’s voice had once resonated in his mind, a place meant
only for Draco, by accidentally bleeding through Draco’s mind during an
Occlumency lesson. It had been just as terrible, just as invading, but he
wasn’t as weak as he once was. Instead of breaking down, Harry mentally
growled, instinctively trying to protect what was Draco’s by blocking the voice
out.
“A nice mind, generous heart, and deeply loyal…”the leathery voice continued,
this time in a careful whisper.
* Hello. I don’t believe we’ve met,* Draco’s voice cut through the darkness
behind Harry’s eyes like a brilliant flash of lightning. The blond’s fierce
magic rumbled through the bond like thunder.
“Dominus et delicatus…”This time the whisper was one of awe.“So many long years
since your kind has graced these halls, and never so young as to sit under my
brim.”
*Then you know he’s mine. *Draco’s voice was dangerous and low. * Sort him
Gryffindor and get out. *
“Yes, I see… Perhaps I Sorted you too soon, although I stand by my Sorting…
Slytherin through and through…” 
Harry bit his lip almost hard enough to make it bleed as he felt the focus of
the mental probe switch to him. Gryffindor,he thought, face scrunched up in
concentration. Please say Gryffindor.
“It’s true that you possess remarkable bravery. Your ability to trust in
yourDominuswith no fear for how terribly he could hurt you will make you feel
right at home in….Gryffindor!”
Harry was off the stool and running to his new table. McGonagall was just
barely able to snatch the hat back off his head. Draco had turned, straddling
the bench. His arms were open, a pleased smirk on his face. Harry flung himself
into those arms, shaking in reaction - joy relief love.
Draco smoothed a hand through Harry’s hair, gave him a squeeze, and gently
pushed the boy toward the seat next to him. “I told you you’d get Gryffindor,”
he said out loud while mentally prompting, * Mask. *
Harry blushed and realized the whole of Gryffindor table was cheering. Draco’s
rebellion and questionable presence was forgotten completely as Gryffindor
celebrated their acquiring The Harry Potter. Standing with the few remaining
First years, Ron pumped his fist in the air, grinning. Harry kept his head up
and gave them all a big smile, determined to win them over so that they’d let
Draco stay.
A few minutes later, Ron was Sorted Gryffindor and he took the seat next to
Harry. Harry gave him a hug while Draco slapped his hand in a high-five. The
last few kids were Sorted and Dumbledore stood again, tapping his glass goblet
with a fork, making it ring. The hall quieted.
With twinkling eyes, Dumbledore exclaimed, “Let the feast begin!”
Food instantly appeared along the previously bare center of the table. Rolls,
butter dishes, corn on the cob, roast potatoes, steamed carrots, and roast
chicken. Ron immediately dug in. Draco barely kept himself from rolling his
eyes. The redhead’s table manners were still deplorable. 
“Wanted to be in the best House, eh, Malfoy?” an older student a few places
down asked Draco with mean eyes.
“Well, it certainly is now that I’m here,” Draco drawled with a smirk, amused
by the pathetic attempt to bully him.
“Don’t think that you’re staying,” the boy spat angrily. “Slytherins aren’t
welcome here.”
Draco arched an eyebrow and looked pointedly over at the Slytherin table.
“Looks like they are since they have their own House and all,” he retorted,
purposefully mistaking the ‘here’ to mean Hogwarts and not Gryffindor since
that’s how everyone acted anyway. Like House Slytherin should be kicked out and
destroyed. Such short-sighted ignorance.
The bully went red as the kids around him snickered. 
“We come as a pair,” Harry cut in, voice as firm as his gaze. “We’re twin-
bonded.”
A girl next to the angry teen got the boys attention and they held an intense
whispered conversation. The First years were left alone. 
Draco served himself a small portion of everything and gave Neville a charming
smile. “Nice to see you again. How’s Trevor?”
Neville blushed a dark red, instinctively putting his hand in his pocket.
“Fine, thank you,” he answered nervously, ducking his head.
Draco turned his smile to Hermione. “Congratulations on your Sorting. I’m sure
you’re happy to be with your brother.”
Hermione’s guarded expression softened with surprise and then a real smile
spread across her face. She looked at Neville and nodded her head firmly. “I
am.”
“I’m Harry Potter,” Harry introduced himself to the First years around him. “I
hope we can be friends.”
“I’m Seamus Finnigan!” the boy across from Harry said with a heavy Irish
accent. He had short sandy-colored hair and blue eyes. “Can’t believe I’m here,
really! I’m half-and-half. Me Dad’s a Muggle and me Mum’s a witch. Got a huge
surprise he did when I got me letter! Mum had some explainin’ to do!” He
laughed boisterously. 
“Dean Thomas,” the boy next to Seamus offered. He was dark-skinned with short,
dark hair. He was tall, too. Almost a head taller than Harry with them both
sitting. His voice was subdued, but he seemed friendly enough.
“And I’m Lavender Brown,” a girl with long, ash-blonde pigtails pipped. She was
on the other side of Neville. “I always knew I’d be coming to Hogwarts. Both my
parents attended.”
“Parvati,” the Patil twin said with a sweet smile. She was Indian with large
dark eyes and thick black hair that she wore in a single braid. “My family’s
been magical for more than eighteen generations. Most of them were Ravenclaws.”
Her sweet smile morphed into something more daring. “Guess I’m different.”
Next to Neville sat a girl with strawberry blonde hair that had been cut in a
short bob. “My name’s Fay Dunbar.” She had small features and an upturned nose,
which made her look a bit like a pixie. “I wanna play professional Quidditch
one day. Are First years allowed to try out, do you think?”
“I’m Kellah Jordan.” Black with cornrow braids, she was very pretty with thick
lips and large dark eyes. “You can call me Kell. My older brother’s in
Gryffindor. His name’s Lee.” She pointed him out and an older teen sitting with
Fred and George gave her an enthusiastic wave.
Ron rolled his eyes, unimpressed. His left cheek puffed out from food stored in
it. “I got three older brothers here, all Gryffindor. Two more have graduated
already. Don’t talk to me about older brothers. Oh, I’m Ron. Weasley if you
couldn’t guess.”
“Draco Malfoy.” He gave them all the easy smile of a cat. “Nice to meet you.
I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.”
They talked of simple things and ate until they felt like they were going to
pop, the atmosphere friendly. Almost an hour later, the feast came to an end.
Professor McGonagall stepped up to the First year section of the table and gave
Draco as stern glance. 
“Mr. Malfoy, the headmaster would like to speak with you.” Turning her
attention to Percy, she added, “Please take the First years to the tower and
explain things, Mr. Weasley. I will be there momentarily.”
Percy nodded and stood. 
* Stay close to Percy until I get back, * Draco instructed through the bond. He
squeezed Harry’s hand tightly before letting go. 
Harry gave Draco a smile - acceptance determination. 
The other First years gave Draco curious looks as they stood and swung their
legs over the bench. Percy gathered them up, unashamedly taking Harry’s hand.
Draco gave them an unconcerned wave. Soon the Great Hall was empty. McGonagall
lifted a single eyebrow before striding from the hall.
They went up a floor and walked down a long hallway with many gargoyles staring
sightlessly back at each other. They were large and ferocious looking. At the
end of the hallway, they came to an eagle-headed gargoyle with massive wings
and a frighteningly large, sharp beak with the body of a lion. McGongall cooly
stated, “Acid pops,” and the stone statue stepped off its pedestal, the head
turning with a loud grating sound to look at them as they walked past to the
spiraling staircase beyond.  
Dumbledore’s office was a large and beautiful circular room, full of funny
little noises. A number of curious silver instruments stood on spindle-legged
tables, whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke. The walls were covered
with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, all of whom were snoozing
gently in their frames. A second floor could be seen past a railing and held
hundreds of books that had no titles along the spines. 
There was also an enormous, claw-footed desk, and, sitting on a shelf behind
it, the Sorting Hat. Dumbledore sat there. He waved them closer, indicating
that McGongall should join them and sit. He offered them both a silver tin with
yellow balls.
“Lemon drop?”
“No, thank you,” Draco denied. He reached up to tuck his hair back behind his
ear.
McGongall said nothing, narrowing her eyes impatiently. 
“Very well.” Dumbledore chose one of the candies and placed it in his mouth. It
made his cheek bulge slightly. “You are unhappy with the Sorting?”
“I am unhappy with a lot of things,” Draco answered mildly.
“It’s not for you to be ‘unhappy’ with things, Mr. Malfoy, you are a student
and as such…” McGonagall began.
“For example,” Draco cut her off and stared her down. “A fucking deadly
corridor.” His eyes flashed to Dumbledore. “What the fuck are you thinking
putting that in a school filled with kids?”
McGonagall opened her mouth to scold him for his language, but she couldn’t
find the words to say because she agreed with him completely. She had been
against it from the start.
“We are temporarily holding onto something that needs protection,” Dumbledore
explained.
“Protect it somewhere else,” Draco demanded coldly, crossing his arms.
“Mr. Malfoy!” McGonagall exclaimed, shocked by his attitude, as if he were a
king and they were his subjects to be commanded.
“Minerva, it’s alright. He is rightly concerned for his safety and the safety
of the other children.” Dumbledore smiled, faded blue eyes twinkling madly
above his glasses. “The item was placed in the most secure holding in the
Wizarding world and I received notice that it wasn’t safe even there. This is
the last place it can be kept. I assure you that every measure has been taken
to keep the students safe from both the item as well as anyone after the item.
The wards have been bolstered all summer. The teachers have been informed and
will keep watch, and I assure you they are all highly qualified adults. I would
prefer it otherwise, but this is necessary. Should the item fall into the
Dark’s hands, I believe Voldemort’s return would follow directly after.”
“Albus!” This time she was shocked by the information the headmaster had
revealed to an eleven-year-old. Such things were beyond the boy’s
understanding, but more than that it was not for him to worry about. He was a
child! He shouldn’t be burdened with such knowledge. 
Draco considered that, a cold chill of fear coiling in his gut. He wasn’t
ready. He hadn’t gained enough strong allies to be sure he could keep Harry
safe when Voldemort returned. Not to mention they still hadn’t figured out a
way to free Harry from the Black core attached to his own. 
He gave a sharp nod. “I understand. We must keep that from happening at all
cost,” he agreed, voice resigned.
McGonagall felt her eyebrows lift. “Why, thank you for your permission, Mr.
Malfoy,” she said archly.
Draco gave her a blank look. Her lack of understanding was annoying, but he
knew it was to be expected. Winning her to his side would take time. 
Dumbledore rubbed his hands together. “I’m glad we are all in agreement. Now,
as to your Sorting…”
“I understand you do not wish to be separated from your twin,” McGonagall
interrupted, “but it is not for the child to pick the House. We are none of us
truly aware of who we really are. You belong with Slytherin, even if you do not
think so at the moment. You will be more understood there. As for Mr. Potter,
you will be able to see him between classes and meal times, but you simply must
room with your House.”
Dumbledore sat back, stroking his white beard as he watched.
“Gryffindor is my House,” Draco stated with calm certainty. “The Sorting Hat is
a magnificent object of power, but it is not perfect. Nothing is perfect. The
hat took very little time Sorting me. Less than any other kid. There is more to
me than can be measured in that time.”
“The Sorting Hat has never been wrong!” McGonagall insisted.
“How do you know that?” Draco demanded with a bit more force. “Have you been in
the head of every child to ever walk these halls? There has never been a child
who was consistently unhappy throughout their seven years here? A student who
didn’t reach their full potential because of their House environment? Never?
You can’t possibly know that.”
McGonagall crossed her arms defensively as certain students in the past flashed
through her mind. “And what makes you say you belong to Gryffindor besides
being bonded to Harry Potter?”
“I won’t deny that I like to make plans. I’ve been told I’m smart in the
cunning way, and I have the enormous ambition to keep Harry alive.”
She opened her mouth, clearly feeling she had won. 
“But!” Draco cut her off before she could speak. He met her eyes with fierce
determination, and they weren’t the eyes of a child. “I’m brave,professor.
Brave and chivalrous. I was kept captive for over a year by a very sick man. I
faced his punishments and torture and never gave up hope of escape. I’d walk
into that man’s chamber, knowing he was going to whip me half to death or shove
plastic dicks up my ass. I knew he was going to make me bleed and bleed, but I
faced him head on again and again. And I protected Harry from that. I knew it
would be worse for me if I did, but I did it anyway. I take care of Harry
before myself. No matter the cost. Always. I have honor, Professor McGonagall,
not just pride, and I do know the difference.” Taking a deep breath, softening
his voice to sound more vulnerable, Draco said, “I think I deserve the right to
choose Gryffindor. I’ve proven my bravery more times than I can count and I
never broke during all those hours of torture. My honor is still intact. If you
force me to go to Slytherin… I feel like you’re telling me it’s not.”
McGonagall couldn’t speak. She was beyond horrified by Draco’s speech. Tears
burned her eyes. The child stared up at her with a vulnerable expression, but
his gaze was steady and he was facing her head on, just as he did his
tormentors. He was so small now. How much smaller had he been then, helpless
and utterly, truly alone? His undeniable bravery was heartbreaking because it
shouldn’t have been necessary. 
“Draco,” she whispered, voice wobbly and thick with unshed tears. “You may be
Slytherin, but you are Gryffindor, too. I welcome you to your new House.”
Draco smiled sweetly and reached out to gently touch her hand. “Thank you,
professor.”
Dumbledore cleared his throat. “May I ask why you do not wish to be in
Slytherin? If your goal is to help Harry, then…” 
McGonagall gave Dumbledore the fierce glare of a protective mother. How dare he
suggest to an eleven-year-old to serve in the war!
“Simple.” Draco shrugged. “I could try and spy on the Slytherins, it might even
help one day, but Harry’s been traumatized, too. It’s going to be hard for him
to live at a boarding school where people don’t understand what we’ve been
through. I’m his twin. He’s going to need me. Besides, I don’t have to be in
Slytherin to spy on them. I’m going to maintain my contacts there.”
McGongall smiled, amused. “How very Slytherin of you.”
Draco gave her a tilted grin. “I’m sure there have been plenty of Gryffindors
in the past who wished to spy on Slytherin.”
“But they did not succeed at it,” she countered. “I have a feeling you will.”
Draco chuckled. “Here’s hoping. Plus, with me in Gryffindor bridging the gap
between the two Houses, maybe we can help weaken the stigma against Slytherin
and make them feel less persecuted. Then they’d feel less like they have no
other choice than to follow the few who are hardcore Dark.”
McGonagall smiled proudly. Draco truly was Gryffindor if he was so set on
saving so many people, people he didn’t even know.
Draco internally smirked. This was going exactly how he’d predicted. They were
going to attribute his goal to infiltrate Slytherin and convert as many as he
could to altruistic reasons. The truth was that every kid he pulled from the
Dark Lord was another kid who wouldn’t hurt Harry. He wasn’t kidding when he’d
said he would build an army to keep Harry safe. Draco was going to do whatever
it took to make it happen, including “save” Slytherin House.
Deep in his mind he hid the rage and cold hatred aimed at these two people.
They had left Harry at the Dursleys. McGonagall had sensed they were not good
people, that Harry would not do well there. Dumbledore hadn’t listened. They
had both failed epically. McGonagall for not checking up on Harry when she’d
known. Dumbledore for continuing on with the arrogant confidence that he was
right. There would come a time for vengeance, a time Draco would need a trump
card, and he’d unleash his rage. He’d wait and watch for that moment with a
Slytherin’s cold patience.
Chapter end.
***** Gryffindor *****
Gryffindor
Percy led the group of Firsties out of the Great Hall and up the main
staircase. They passed stone corridors that led to classrooms, many vocal
paintings of knights and languid ladies and, all the while, they stepped
carefully as the stairs under them sometimes felt the need to move into another
position, bringing them to a secondary landing on the next floor up. 
Percy explained that they should all try and get to class early because they
tended to act up even more if you were running late. 
Harry nodded firmly, making a mental note to tell Draco later. “Are there any
maps?” he asked, looking up at Percy.
“I suppose I could find you one. Gryffindors usually like to do things by trial
and error. I suspect that Hufflepuffs give their new members maps, though,” he
answered.
“Because they’re babies,” Ron said with a big eye roll. “I’m not using a map.
It’s more fun figuring it out yourself. We’ll be fine if we stick together,
Harry.”
“I would like one, please,” Harry told Percy, undeterred. He didn’t care if his
peers thought him a baby. If running late carried penalties like the staircases
moving on purpose to make things worse, then he wanted to be prepared. He was
determined not to be a burden to Draco.
“I want one, too,” Hermione spoke up, her chin lifted defiantly. “Only someone
stupid thinks they won’t get lost in a castle this big. In Hogwarts: A History,
it states several kids have gone missing never to be found again.” 
Ron scowled, face red with embarrassment and anger, but before he could say
anything to her, they stepped out onto the seventh floor landing. Percy led
them to the huge painting that was almost set at ground level and was taller
than Harry was by a half. A large woman in a white gauzy gown sat with her hair
pinned up and dark green olive leaves around her head. 
She gave them a big smile, saying, “Is this the new batch, then?” 
“It is, Lady.” Percy turned to the group of kids. “This is our portrait. You
have to tell her the correct password or you will not be allowed inside. Some
students have had to camp out most of the night before someone else came along
to let them in. This week the password is Caput Draconis.”
“Beheaded dragon?” Parvati asked curiously.
Ron and Seamus grinned, clearly approving. “Wicked,” they said almost at the
same time.
“Dragon’s head,” Harry corrected. “Not necessarily cut off.”
Percy nodded at Harry as the portrait swung open.
A large round room filled with rugs overlapping with other rugs covered the
grey stone floor. Heavy curtains and tapestries of animals, witches, and
wizards covered the walls. Golden chandeliers casting warm yellow light hung
from the ceiling, and a fireplace took up most of one wall with a roaring fire.
A huge painting of a proud lion sitting with his head in profile was placed in
a large golden frame above the mantle. It should have been gaudy and
overwhelming, but it was so lived in and the atmosphere so casual that it felt
homey instead.
Dozens of stuffed red armchairs and a few couches placed around low mahogany
tables in random clusters. Kids from twelve to seventeen were lounging on chair
arms, on window seats, leaning against the walls, sitting on the tables,
playfully pushing and shoving, laughing. The volume of their voices was nearly
overwhelming.  
As the new First years crowded just inside the portrait of the Fat Lady,
letting the door swing closed, the noise lowered. Percy opened his mouth,
clearly about to say something when a boy, Fifth year or so, shouted, “Hey,
Potter, what’s with Malfoy trying to get in here?”
Harry met the kid’s eyes squarely and said, “Draco’s the bravest person I
know.” 
“I’m sure Malfoy’s great, but you heard the Hat! It called Slytherin,” another
boy argued.
“You want to kick out Draco, then you’re going to have to kick me out, too!”
Harry said it with such fierce certainty that the boys had no quick comeback. 
Trying to change the subject, Percy announced, “That’s the House billboard.” He
pointed to the cork board in along the wall. It was already half filled with
flyers and announcements. “Check it for news and notices.”
Percy indicated two sets of gently spiraling mahogany stairs. They were
decorated with crimson and gold as most of the room was. “The stairs lead to
the dorms. Boys on the left, girls on the right. Boys can’t climb the stairs to
the girls’ dorm. It turns into a slide.”
“And trust me…” Fred called laughingly.
“We’ve tried everything!” George finished with a mischievous grin.
The room laughed at that. 
“The girls are able to climb the boys’ staircase,” a girl in the back called
out with a grin.
Catcalls and comments about who she was looking to see up there were shouted
across the room. 
“That doesn’t sound fair,” Ron said with a frown, crossing his arms.
“Who cares if it’s fair,” Seamus argued, elbowing him with pink cheeks.
Lavender and Parvati giggled, Fay and Kell rolled their eyes, but Harry noticed
that Hermione looked relieved. 
“But if they’re caught in the dorm, they’ll get skinned by McGonagall,” another
girl chimed in. She shuddered as if she had experience.
Hermione’s face dropped in disappointment.
Percy went on to say that curfew was at nine o’clock sharp on school nights and
ten o’clock on weekends. If they were caught out of the tower after that time,
the House would lose points and they’d likely earn a detention. A few shouted
suggestions on how to avoid getting caught were bandied about, much to the
amusement of the rowdy crowd. Percy did his best to ignore it, although most of
the First years were doing the exact opposite and paying very close attention
to the tips and tricks.
Other House rules were given: they were to keep their room and the common room
tidy, beware Professor Snape as he had it out for all Gryffindors, never take
anything from Fred and George as it was likely a prank of some kind, no
recreation or mind altering potions or muggle drugs at anytime whatsoever, earn
as many points as possible and don’t get caught breaking rules so that
Gryffindor could win the House Cup…
“Been Slytherin last few years,” a boy grumbled unhappily.
“This year, we’re going to beat them at Quidditch,” a teen suddenly yelled
out. 
“Oliver,” a girl groaned. 
“We will! I’m putting together a team better than when Charlie was here. The
House Cup will be ours!”
A roared cheer of approval met this bold declaration, the sound making Harry
wince and step closer to Percy’s side. Behind them, the portrait door swung
open. McGonagall stepped inside with a beat up, bloody, bedraggled Draco. The
room fell silent and the First years all backed up, deeper into the common
room. Harry took a step forward, a look of worry on his face, but he stopped
halfway, his expression going blank.
“Good evening, students,” McGonagall began, voice stern as ever. “I am here to
announce that Draco has willingly undergone an additional test. The results are
conclusive. He is a Gryffindor. In the Sorting Hat’s haste, it did not evaluate
Draco comprehensively.”
Draco walked forward to stand beside Harry, taking the boy’s hand. He limped.
His right eye was swollen and darkening into a terrible bruise. His hair fell
around his face and stuck to the blood on his forehead and cheek. Blood smeared
across his face from his nose and rolled down his neck from his hears. Soot
smudged his skin, the smell of smoke rose around him. His robes, button-up, and
jeans were torn in dozens of places, the skin underneath black and red with
what looked like oozing burns. 
“Can’t he go to Pomfrey?” Percy asked into the silence. 
“I’m afraid not. Draco took this test knowing full well that it would be
painful and his wounds would not be tended to afterward. Yet he faced it
bravely and even now has not complained.” Her hazel eyes swept the room. “Draco
has proven himself. Let all doubts regarding his House be extinguished!”
Harry pulled Draco’s arm over his shoulder and helped him walk toward the
nearest armchair. The girl sitting on the arm leapt up immediately, but the boy
didn’t move at first. Harry growled at him and the boy’s eyes went wide,
finally standing. Draco sat carefully, making a face at the pain. 
“Now!” McGonagall clapped her hands. “We need to see to dorms. Usually we have
about twenty new students in Gryffindor each year, give or take. However, this
year and last were on the smaller side due to events ten years ago. We haven’t
had to split up the cohort in a while, but there are no more than five to a
room. The girls will be fine in a single room. The boys number six…” She
slanted Draco a stern glance as he raised his hand with seeming politeness.
“No, Mr. Malfoy, you cannot share a room alone with Mr. Potter.”
Draco grinned and the expression was frightening with how bloody and battered
he looked. “I was just going to say I’d like to room with Harry and Neville,
professor.”
Neville looked shocked, Ron furious, and Hermione suspicious. Harry gave them a
reassuring smile and mouthed ‘I’ll explain later’ to Ron.
“Very well.” McGonagall gave Draco a nod of acceptance. “Now that that’s out of
the way.” She again gave her House a stern glance. “Mr. Malfoy has been spelled
to be unable to discuss his challenge. Do not ask him about it if you do not
want to waste your time. He will say nothing. Now you have classes bright and
early in the morning. Your schedules will be handed out during breakfast. I
suggest you get some sleep.”
The room maintained its silence until the portrait swung closed behind her.
Then bursts of whispered conversations erupted around the room. Slowly groups
of students went up the dormitory stairs, staring at Draco the whole way.
“Congratulations!” Fred called, bounding over. He gave Draco a bow.
“Impressive,” George added, whistling as he took in Draco’s damage up close.
“Thanks,” Draco said wryly. He gingerly touched his split lower lip.
“What’s the deal?” Ron demanded, butting in. 
Fred and George exchanged a glance and left the First years to their argument.
They put their heads together and whispered back and forth.
“Harry and I like to go to bed early and like things quiet,” Draco explained
meeting Ron’s angry gaze with his one good eye. “I thought you’d have more fun
with Seamus and Dean.”
“You always think you know everything!” Ron spat and angrily stormed away.
Seamus and Dean followed after shooting Draco curious looks.
Harry smiled gently at a still shocked Neville. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“N-n-not at all,” the shy boy stuttered, face red. 
“I’ll see you in the morning,” Hermione told Neville. She gave Harry and Draco
a fierce look before following after the other girls. 
“Help me up.” 
Harry grabbed Draco’s hands and pulled the slightly bigger boy to his feet.
Draco hissed in pain and looped his arm over Harry’s shoulder’s again. Neville
stared in horror, but he said nothing. They made their way with agonizing
slowness up the stairs. On the first level they found a door with a lightning
bolt with their three initials on it. Harry opened the door and pushed it
open. 
The dorm room was like a circle cut in half. Small rectangular windows were
placed regularly around the outside wall. Three fourposter beds were covered in
thick scarlet blankets and embroidered with gold. Curtains an even darker red
were tied off along each post and could be drawn around the beds for privacy.
At the foot of each sat the their trunks and next to the head of the bed sat a
nightstand. Three tall armoires were placed against the wall on the other side
to hang their clothes. Several red rugs overlapped over the cold stone floor.
Oil lamps sat on each nightstand, turned up so their warm flickering light
filled the room. 
Draco limped inside with the help of Harry and sat carefully on the far right
bed. Neville went to the bed on the far left, leaving the middle for Harry.
“Are you okay, Draco?” Harry asked softly.
“Yeah. Fine.” Draco watched as Neville nervously twisted his hands in his lap.
“Look, Neville, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I just thought
you’d like a quiet dorm as much as Harry and me. The other boys can get pretty
excited sometimes.”
“N-no, I mean, y-yes…” Neville stammered, red in the face.
“Good.” Draco gave him a smile and then focused on Harry. “Help me get these
off.”
Harry obediently began tugging Draco’s clothes off one piece at a time,
revealing even more bruised and oozing skin. The skin not damaged was covered
in scars: thick ones, thin ones, long and short, lines and blotches, all a pale
white, hundreds of them. His chest and legs were covered in them. His back
looked even worse. The scars there were thicker and overlapped each other,
clearly the marks of a whip. Neville gasped in horror, but he was ignored. 
Harry carefully folded the ruined clothes before placing them in the hamper
he'd found in one of the armoires. He set it next to the middle bed and told
Neville he could use it, too. Then he fetched Draco’s dressing robe and hurried
out of his own clothes, folding them and placing them in the hamper, too.
“We’re going to take a shower. I saw a bathroom at the end of this hall,” Harry
explained as he helped Draco get to his feet again.
Neville nodded numbly. 
There was a door across from their own with a sword engraved on it and the
initials of Ron, Seamus, and Dean. The door was shut. When they got into the
bathroom, it was empty. Harry propped Draco up in the stall and began to help
wash him off. The water ran pink and grey as it circled the drain, tainted with
soot and blood. 
Harry lovingly washed Draco’s skin clean. He stared up at the blond from his
knees, awe and devotion in them. “You’re amazing,” Harry whispered, barely loud
enough to be heard. “You got into Gryffindor just like you said and a room
mostly to ourselves.” He could hardly contain his amazement at this incredible
boy. 
Draco felt warmth saturate him from head to toe as he was filled with Harry’s -
unconditional love pride. Unexpected tears stung his eyes. 
Harry was the first one to truly love him. To want to take care of him. Who saw
something worthwhile in him and was proud of him. Harry’s love had saved him
from a darkness so deep it had been colder and more empty than the black
surrounding the stars. Even now Narcissa, Remus, Lucius, Andromeda…. Everyone
who thought they loved him… They loved, but they didn’t love all of him, didn’t
see or want to see all of him. They loved him, but frowned at this or that.
They didn’t understand. Harry… Harry loved him. Every single inch, every aspect
of his personality, loved in a way that broke through Draco’s barriers and had
saved him from the darkness. 
Draco ran his thumb over Harry’s bottom lip and then pressed two finger inside
his warm mouth. Harry sucked and licked at Draco’s fingers hungrily. Draco’s
nipples pebbled and he felt warm all the way through. Tilting his head back
against the shower wall, he let all the tension from the day drain out of him.
His gut coiled tighter with every hard suck of Harry’s mouth and he pulled his
fingers free with a soft pop. 
“Wash me,” he ordered, voice low. 
Harry obeyed the command with - joy. He lathered every inch of Draco’s body,
lifted one foot and then the other, washed between every toe and under the tiny
nails. He washed between Draco’s legs, gently cupping the blond’s balls. The
cloth slid smoothly up his scarred stomach and chest, and he very carefully
caressed Draco’s oozing, scrapped skin along his arms. He slid the cloth behind
Draco’s ears and carefully over his battered face. 
Saving the best for last, he tenderly washed Draco’s hair, scratching gently at
Draco’s scalp as he massaged the shampoo into a lather. Draco practically
melted. He pulled Harry in for a languid kiss, their tongues tangling and
stroking. Draco broke the kiss and pushed Harry back with a sensual sigh. Red
cheeked, Harry cupped his hands to help Draco rinse.
Once Draco was clean, Harry did a quick scrub down and then helped Draco dry
off. He put his robe on Draco, Draco’s had been dirtied with soot and blood,
and wrapped a towel around his waist. Neville was in his pajamas already and
reading against the headboard. He looked up nervously as Draco and Harry
entered. 
As they pulled on their own sleep clothes, which consisted of very large t-
shirts (a compromise since they both preferred to sleep naked), Draco told
Neville, “We usually share a bed so that if we have nightmares about the time
we were kidnapped, we’re there for each other. I’m going to pull the curtains
closed, so hopefully we won’t wake you if that happens. Sorry in advance if we
do.”
“Do you think you can keep this a secret? It’s embarrassing,” Harry added,
flashing Neville his best puppy dog eyes, which were all the more powerful
because he hadn’t put his glasses back on after the shower. It wasn’t
embarrassing in the least, but he knew rumors of them sharing a bed would be
bad for Draco.
“Yes, of course!” Neville promised hastily. “It’s no one else’s business.”
Draco gave the other boy a smile. “Thanks, Neville.”
Neville went bright red.
The two climbed into bed, and Draco pulled the curtains closed as he’d
promised. It was dark inside the makeshift cocoon. Draco, wand in hand,
whispered the Silencing spell that Percy had taught them. They weren’t skilled
enough yet, so it wouldn’t last long.
“Are you really okay?” Harry whispered as he lay in the crook of Draco’s arm,
head pillowed on his chest.
“It doesn’t hurt much,” Draco answered with a grin. “Like I told you,
McGonagall did all this with a few spells. It’s mostly surface stuff. She
didn’t want the students to think they could just pick their House because then
the Houses would get lopsided. Sorting keeps the Houses more evenly balanced.”
Voice turning teasing, Draco added, “No healing. I have to make a point
tomorrow.”
Harry sighed in unhappy obedience. “Love you.”
Draco traced the wet leather of Harry’s collar. Slipping his fingers under it,
it pulled tight enough to threaten Harry’s breathing. Harry shivered and
pressed closer, and Draco felt an overwhelming surge of fierce possessiveness.
“I love you, Harry,” he whispered back, meaning so much more: You’re mine,
Harryand You belong to me and I’ll take care of youand No one’s going to hurt
you while I’m around…
Harry pressed a smile into Draco’s skin - contentment submission love.
… 
Harry and Draco were used to waking very early to start the long days of
lessons under Narcissa. The tower was absolutely silent, all the other kids
still sound asleep, as they quickly used the bathroom before returning to their
room. It was still dark and they had to light the oil lamps to see. 
Draco lounged in bed, using a book as a flat surface to write letters to the
Malfoys, the Tonkses, Dora, and Remus. While he wrote, Harry unpacked their
trunks, hung their clothes in the armoire (Harry used all of his and then half
of Draco’s), and set their books out on the night tables. He then packed up
their school bags with paper, quills, and ink. He didn’t put any textbooks in
them as he didn’t know what classes they’d be going to. Draco didn’t think
they’d need any on the first day. It’d most likely be an overview of the class
and rules. 
“We’re going to need a desk,” Harry murmured quietly, aware of the sleeping
Neville.
Draco nodded absently, still bent over his letter. Two completed ones already
sat rolled up on the night table beside him. 
Harry pulled on knee high silk socks and clipped them to his sock garters to
keep them in place. He slipped into his black slacks and leather belt with the
silver round silver buckle. Then he pulled on his black leather and lace boots
with the two-inch heels. A button-up went on next and he tied on his red and
gold neck tie. It took him two tries. He wasn’t used to this kind of knot,
preferring different kinds of bows. Last, he pulled on his school robe. Pushing
up his glasses he stood by the bedside and waited for Draco’s verdict.
Draco’s grey eyes went up Harry’s form and down before meeting Harry’s eyes.
“You look perfect.”
Harry blushed happily and set out Draco’s clothes for the day.
“Wha’ time’s it?” Neville asked in a sleepy slur.
“Twenty minutes until breakfast,” Harry answered helpfully.
Neville sat bolt up right and then toppled out of bed, pulling his sheets and
comforter with him. Harry rushed to his side to help. 
Draco dressed in comfortable jeans, his Converse sneakers, and an untucked
button-down. He tied the Gryffindor tie with practiced movements and pulled on
his robes, leaving them open. Draco finger-combed his hair quickly before
tucking his bangs behind his ears. Walking over to other side of the room, he
lazily prepared Neville’s school bag and handed it to the red-faced boy just as
Harry finished buttoning the boy’s school robe closed. 
“Th-thank you,” Neville stuttered in shame, clutching the bag to his chest.
Harry smoothed Neville’s bedhead into place and gave him a bright smile. “It’s
no problem, Neville. It’s my fault. I just didn’t know what time you wanted to
get up, but I should have known you’d want more than ten minutes to get ready.”
“We’re going to head to breakfast. You can join us when you’re ready,” Draco
offered.
Neville smiled with nervous relief. “Yes. Okay. I’m just going to use the
bathroom first.”
Other kids were up and milling around the common room, voices could be heard
behind dorm room doors, a good many were making their way out of the portrait
hole toward the Great Hall for food. Draco held Harry’s hand in his loosely and
followed. 
His eye was no longer swollen, but it was still a dark black/purple. The bruise
spilled over onto his other eye staining it a green/yellow underneath. His low
lip was still split and fat, and a healing burn sat just above his collar. He
garnered a lot of attention from those in the other Houses as he sat down at
the Gryffindor table and he could hear the other Gryffindors spreading the
story. There were whispered suggestions of having to fight a dragon to dueling
with McGonagall herself. Draco smiled mysteriously and ate his breakfast.
Ron, Dean, and Seamus appeared with only ten minutes of breakfast left. They
looked like they just woke up, but they were in great moods. The redhead looked
Draco over and made a face at his wounds. “Sorry about last night, mate. You
were right. We had a blast.”
“I’m glad.” Draco gave him a smile to indicate no hurt feelings and handed over
the bacon.
“Cheers!” Ron said in delight and practically fell on the platter.
“Harry, I have the map you requested.”
Draco turned to see Percy standing there with a serious look, perfectly
dressed, and with his horned glasses in place. Draco gave him a welcomed smile
as Harry thanked him and took the parchment Percy offered.
“Just tap it with your wand and say the floor you’d like to see and it will
appear.” Percy found Hermione talking intently to Neville a few seats down and
went to give her a copy.
McGonagall arrived just a few second later. She handed each of them a rolled
parchment from an apparently bottomless bag she wore over her shoulder. Draco
and Harry unrolled theirs and just stared for a moment. The parchment had a
weird spiraling square of days and classes that they had to keep turning the
parchment in order to read. Draco chuckled. It was a schedule that only a
magical school could think up. 
The Great Hall would be open for breakfast 8-9 every morning, lunch 1-2 every
afternoon, and dinner 6-7 every evening, but other than that every day was
going to be different.
Monday: 9:12-11:35 Xylomancy, 11:45-1:03 Potions Theory, 2:13-3:33 Defense
Against the Dark Arts, and finally 3:52-5:32 Charms Practical.
Tuesday: 9:14-10:55 Potions Theory, 11:45-1:02 Magical History, 2:15-3:24
Herbology, and finally 3:35-5:12 Transfiguration Practical.
Wednesday: 9:03-12 Double Potions Practical with the Slytherins, 12:15-1:22
Charms Theory, 2-3:30 Free Period, 3:45-5:03 Magical Theory, and finally
Midnight-1:30 Astronomy.
Thursday: 9:13-11:23 Defense Against the Dark Arts Practical, 11:40-12:51
Xylomancy, 1:53-3:12 Transfiguration Theory, and finally 3:25-5:02 Flying.
Friday: 9:02-10:54 Herbology, 11:23-1:01 History of Magic, 2:01-3:11 Charms
Theory, and finally 3:35-5:03 Magical Theory.
Saturday wasn’t a free day. 9:04-10:45 Potions, 11:00-12:45 Herbology, 1:30-2:
45 Free Period, and finally 2:10-5:05 Double Transfiguration Practical with the
Ravenclaws.
Sunday, thank the gods, was free.
Ron and Seamus were grumbling about the heavy work load. Kell and Lavender
complained about the early hours, while Fay gloomily bet she’d be terrible at
Xylomancy and Astronomy. Dean and Neville didn't know what Xylomancy was, so
they listened as Hermione gave them a brief lecture.
“It’s the oldest form of divination using specially prepared twigs,” she
stated. “Hogwarts: A History states it’s been taught here for ages. We only
take it as First years.” 
Draco glanced at Harry. “Double Potions with Slytherins,” he said quietly.
“What’re the odds?”
Harry took a deep breath and met Draco’s eyes - trust determination. “I’ll
follow your lead.”
Draco gave a lopsided smile. “Let’s do this.”
 … 
The dungeons were dark. Torches shed enough light to see, but also threw a lot
of shadows and the ceiling was shrouded with smoke. It was also colder by about
ten degrees. The other Gryffindor First years crowded around Hermione and Harry
who carried maps. Fortunately it wasn’t far and they turned down a corridor to
find the Slytherin First years waiting by a door. 
“Pansy,” Draco said in greeting.
The girl crossed her arms, her expression cold. “How could you do it? How could
you insult Slytherin like that?”
Draco sighed and addressed the eight glaring kids with the green and silver
ties. “I didn’t mean to insult Slytherin. It really is a great House, but it
had to be this way.” He purposefully took Harry’s hand. “Look, no matter what
House I’m in, I’m still going to be myself. We’re friends Pansy. I hope that
doesn’t change because of the ties we wear.”
Pansy sniffed, turning her head and putting her nose in the air. 
Seamus muttered something like, “stuck up brat”, and Ron and Lavender
snickered.
Pansy’s eyes flashed, but the classroom door swung open before she could get
revenge.
The room was large with a very high arched ceiling. There was a blackboard at
the front of the room and a teachers desk. A huge closet stood open at the
front of the room, too. Along one wall were shelves of softly glowing jars
filled with things like eyeballs and tentacles and frog legs. Long black desks
were positioned in rows. Two students could use one at a time. 
Draco instantly noticed how the other kids began to divid themselves: Slytherin
on the left, Gryffindor on the right. A back boy partnered with Theodore Knott
at the front of the room. Behind them was Pansy and Millicent Bulstrode. Then
Daphne Greengrass and a blonde girl Draco didn’t recognize. Vince and Greg
shuffled into place at the last Slytherin desk. 
On the Gryffindor side, Hermione and Neville paired up at the front. Then
Parvati and Lavender, and Fay and Kell. Dean, Seamus, and Ron were trying to
figure out what to do, clearly assuming Draco and Harry would partner. Draco
nudged Harry toward the Gryffindor boys and positioned himself at Greg and
Vince’s table, knowing they’d need help.
Ron looked surprised as Harry appeared next to him and and flashed Draco a
questioning glance, only to roll his eyes when he found Draco on the Slytherin
side of the room. He and Harry took the last desk on the Gryffindor side so
that Harry would only be separated from Draco by an aisle.
“I want you to draw what the ingredients look like into your textbook next to
the ingredients list before class each day,” Draco murmured softly. “That’ll
help. Vince, you can watch what the tables next to and in front of you are
doing to help Greg follow the instructions.”
Greg and Vince both had trouble reading. The letters would dance and rearrange
themselves if they read too long. Vince had it worst, however, because he had a
hard time speaking words as well as reading them. He had to really concentrate,
so he spoke slowly, which caused everyone to think he was dumb. He wasn’t, of
course. He was actually very insightful and observant. Greg tended to speak for
the both of them; he was also a pretty good artist, which would allow him to do
as Draco instructed.
The classroom door blew open once more and a man in swirling black robes strode
down the aisle and turned sharply at the front of the room to face the class.
It was Snape.
"As there is little foolish wand-waving here,” Snape began, black eyes
glinting, expression forbidding, “many of you will hardly believe this is
magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly
simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids
that creep through the human veins, bewitching the minds, ensnaring the
senses…” His voice dropped to a whisper. The students practically held their
breath to hear. “I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even
stopper death.” His voice rose to a normal speaking voice as he hissed, “If you
aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.” His eyes
narrowed malevolently on Draco. “Ah, our resident celebrities. You think you
can be in two Houses? You made your choice, boy. Get to the other side of the
room. Now.”
Draco shrugged and calmly crossed the aisle to stand next to Harry.
“I see you can’t count, either.” Snape hissed furiously. “Five points from
Gryffindor.”
The Slytherins snickered while the Gryffindors muttered insults Snape’s way.
Draco tilted his head thoughtfully, moving his hand in a cutting gesture to
keep Ron and Harry in their places. There were no more open spots at student
desks. The only thing he could think to do…
Draco picked up his bag, swung it over his shoulder, and walked to the front of
the room directly up to Snape. The man didn’t move a muscle, simply glaring
down at Draco. Draco turned right and plopped his bag onto the floor as he sat
at the teacher’s desk. 
Snape practically exploded. “Fifty points from Gryffindor! Detention, Malfoy!
GET OUT OF MY CLASS!” he screamed, spittle flying from his lips as he flung his
arm in the direction of the classroom door.
Draco wiped his face with a hand as he picked up his bag and stood. He gave a
short, nearly sarcastic bow, saying, “Yes, sir,” before calmly walking back up
the aisle. * Make a scene, Harry. *
Harry gave an unobtrusive nod of his head and then slammed his hands down on
his desk. “You can’t do that!” he yelled furiously, making Ron jump and gasp
with surprise. “There were no other places for him to go! You should have given
clearer instructions if you were going to be so upset about it!”
“It’s okay, Harry,” Draco said, now drawing even with his boy.
“Ten points from Gryffindor for talking back, Potter,” Snape hissed, spitting
Harry’s last name in disgust. A few of the Slytherins giggled.
“Harry! Shut up! You’re going to sink us!” Ron hissed, looking at Draco wide-
eyed.
“No! I won’t let you bully Draco because he didn’t choose Slytherin House!”
Harry yelled defiantly. “You’re a teacher! You should be ashamed!”
“DETENTION, POTTER!” Snape roared and stormed up the aisle. “GET OUT!”
Draco tensed, eyes narrowed dangerously. If Snape took this charade too far and
put a hand on Harry…
Snape simply grabbed Harry’s bag, waved his wand at the classroom door, and
flung it outside. Draco took Harry’s hand. He looked up at Snape with his
fiercest glare, eyes gone sliver. He saw Vince, Greg, and Ron wince in his
peripheral vision, and then he turned and strode from the class with Harry in
tow. The classroom door slammed with a bang behind him.
Draco’s expression melted into a mischievous grin. “Sweet. We get free time and
it’s a double period! Our next class doesn’t start until noon.”
“Did I do okay?” Harry asked anxiously, palms sweaty and his face pale.
Draco gave Harry a fierce grin. “You were perfect. Grab your bag.”
Harry did as he was told, completely rattled. He followed Draco almost blindly
until he was suddenly pulled into a room with faint green light. Draco shut the
door behind them. Harry stared with his mouth open. 
There was a square window about three feet wide and five tall, but it didn’t
look out onto the castle grounds. It showed under the lake! Purple/black lake
weed waved in a sensual pattern. Little round things with tentacles swam by
briefly in a pack. The light filtered through the lake shimmered and swayed,
casting slowly dancing patterns along the ceiling and walls. 
Harry shivered as Draco’s hands came up behind him and pulled off his school
robe. Draco untied his tie from behind as well and then used it to bind Harry’s
wrists tightly behind his back. Harry’s eyes went wide - anticipation desire
need.
Draco came around in front of Harry and knelt. Eyes silver, he lifted Harry’s
foot onto his knee and unbuttoned his boot. He slipped it off Harry’s small,
socked foot and lifted the next one. Then he slowly unbuttoned Harry’s shirt,
pushing it off Harry’s thin shoulders to bunch at his elbow. Last, he
unbuttoned Harry’s pants and had him step out of them. 
Harry was panting. His heart raced in his chest. His blood felt as if it were
on fire. The stomach turning mix of fear and anxiety during that scene in
Potions burned away as Draco took complete control, his eyes silver and his
mouth softened into that small, sweet smile that only Harry saw.
Draco held Harry’s gorgeous green eyes and walked him backward and around the
furniture until Harry’s knees hit the back of the window seat. Draco gave a
push and Harry sat with a gasp onto the cushion, naked except for his knee-
high, black silk socks and the white shirt caught on his elbows above his tied
wrists. 
“Beautiful,” Draco whispered, admiring the way Harry was silhouetted by the
light from the lake. His messy hair created a halo around his head, his collar
a dark band around his pale throat, his thin chest rising and falling rapidly,
and his legs submissively spread.* Mine. *
Harry practically melted. “Yours,” he whispered, eyes fluttering closed.
Draco put one knee on the seat and braced his hand on the cold window, folding
over Harry’s body as he sucked the boy’s nipple into his mouth. Harry gave a
yelp at the almost vicious pull, and Draco told him firmly, * Quiet. * 
Harry’s throat obediently closed on any sound he might make. Yours, Draco.
Anything for you,he wanted to babble as Draco continued to suck painfully hard
on his chest. Sharp sparks of pleasure/pain sizzled and burned through him. He
could feel his nipple swelling and thickening. Draco gave it sharp bites with
his canine. Tears streaked Harry’s face, his breathing coming in nearly
whimpered gasps. 
Draco pulled off his chest with a wet pop and grinned down at the blood red,
fat nipple he’d left in his wake. The circle around the nipple was beautiful
red like that against Harry’s fair skin. About the size of a quarter and
swollen, it was softly raised almost like a girl’s chest right before she grew
her breasts. The nipple itself was fatter and raw looking, standing tall. Draco
pinched it in his fingers, feeling Harry’s pain and pleasure spike through the
bond, and descended on his other nipple to make them match.
He went back and forth for several minutes until they were both red as
strawberries and painfully tender. He pulled and sucked until they were
distended and swollen, raised like soft little bubbles topped with a pebbled
point. Harry’s face was red, not as red as his abused chest, but red and damp
with tears and sweat, but his member was stiff against his lower belly. The
white dragon inked into his side arched its head and flapped its wings, the
tail lashing, expressing what Harry could not since he’d been ordered mute.
Draco stood back and watched as Harry’s chest heaved. His sweat-damped hair
splayed against the window that he was slumped against. He was a gorgeous
sight. Draco couldn’t tear his eyes away as he slipped out of his robe and
shirt. He stepped closer, tie in hand and made it into a gag, pushing it deep
in Harry’s mouth, tying it tightly twice around Harry’s head.
It opened Harry’s jaw just enough. Draco shivered. He loved when Harry drooled
all over himself, got wet with spit and sweat and tears… with blood… Draco
loved it. Loved how messy he looked, how fucking blissed out and owned. He
wanted Harry soaked. 
Draco reached forward and pinched the boy’s fat nipples with his nails,
twisting slightly. Harry’s body went tense, the cords of his neck stood out
above the constricting collar as he arched into Draco’s painful touch, and then
went limp as Draco released him. His breathing was harsh in the quiet of the
dark room. 
“Love you. Love this.”
Harry’s eyes practically glowed - joy submission love painpleasure.Harry’s
magic throbbed hotly around them, stimulated and leaking.
“I’m feeling playful,” Draco said softly, almost a warning, and smiled softly
as Harry merely spread his legs a little wider, offering himself completely. As
the intensity of Draco’s desire spiked, his magic rose to meet Harry’s, locking
into place and beginning to spiral. 
He stroked his boy’s damp hair, pushing it out of Harry’s eyes and off his
forehead. “God I love your body. How it responds to me,” he whispered without
really thinking about it. He bent again to suck one last time at one nipple and
then the other.
The searing heat of Draco’s mouth was almost more than Harry could take. It
hurt so much, but it set him afire knowing Draco loved him, wanted him. Draco
was happy, and that made him nearly come undone with a pleasure so sublime he
could hardly breathe through it. He was Draco’s! Drool slicked his chin,
dripped down his neck. Tears flowed unceasing. He could hardly breathe and it
sent him soaring. Head spinning, throbbing intensely between his legs, his
chest was a sweet, agonizing inferno. 
Draco pulled his mouth away with a last sharp nip. The lost look in Harry’s
eyes told him his boy was gone, completely consumed, a creature comprised
solely of sensation. Draco took Harry’s nipples between his fingers again and
descended on Harry’s cock. 
Draco rode the wave of Harry’s hips and kept only the head of the boy’s penis
in his mouth. Sucking with vicious force, he lashed the tip with his tongue
again and again, scrapping his teeth along that sensitive tip in small little
nips, determined to get it as red and swollen as Harry's chest. All the while,
he twisted in sharp little pulls and tugs at Harry’s purpling chest. 
Harry came undone with sudden force. He arched with a muffled cry, too far gone
to remember to be quiet, to remember he had a voice or that there was a wold
outside of his body. Tossing his head side-to-side blindly, eyes screwed shut,
his hips push/pulled in an conflicted wave, wanting more and trying to flee the
overwhelming sensation nearly simultaneously. 
He came in Draco’s searing mouth, but Draco didn’t stop for a second. Harry
screamed hoarsely, falling into stars and bursts of colored light, shaking and
trembling, body completely limp. He whimpered and moaned, muffled by his gag,
his body glistening in the green light of the lake with sweat. The musky, salty
smell filled their nose.
Mouth still working, Draco released the swollen nubs and scooped Harry’s butt
into his hands, pushing Harry deeper into his mouth. The heated and bruised
head of Harry’s cock hit the back of his throat briefly before settling on his
tongue as it shrank. Draco sucked hard again and again, twirled his tongue
around it, forcing it against his teeth. Harry’s legs shook around him,
vibrating as he made soft mewling sounds. Draco was nearly there, blind and
flying as Harry’s orgasm flooded the bond, nearly overwhelming him… He was so
close to being there with Harry…  
He dug his nails in to Harry’s skin, felt hot blood coat his fingertips, and
used it as lube to carefully slide his index finger inside Harry’s hole. Harry
arched, his body twitching to life as he felt Draco enter him, the slight burn,
the strange feeling of something down there moving inside him, and then Draco
found that small bundle he’d been shown… Found it and pressed on it hard, again
and again… sending Harry’s body into overstimulated ecstasy/agony.
Draco exploded, curling over Harry’s lap, finger thrusting on automatic to keep
the feeling there. Stars exploded in his vision and molten lava rushed through
his veins. Their magic exploded, sending powerful energy rushing outward to
saturate the room. Harry dissolved into unconsciousness with a voiceless
scream.
Dazed, Draco sat with his head pillowed on Harry’s bare thigh. It took several
long minutes before coordination came back. There was a cooling damp spot in
his pants, but he ignored it as he got to his knees. Harry was still out,
slumped in the window seat. His nipples were purpling. The tip of his penis was
slightly red, but not too bad. Sweat and spit and tears were drying on his
skin. 
Draco gently untied the gag and tapped his boy’s cheek. Harry slowly came to,
moaning, and Draco gave him an affectionate smile. “You okay?”
“Yea…” Harry’s voice was hoarse, raspy. “That was…” Fresh tears graced his
cheeks.
Draco gently cupped Harry's face and kissed him softly before licking away the
new tears. He kissed Harry’s eyes and cheeks, kissed his lips again. As the
static in the bond decreased, he was filled with Harry’s - love contentment
gratitude. 
Draco smiled against Harry’s mouth. He helped Harry lean to the side and united
his hands. Draco then had Harry up on the window seat on his knees facing the
lake. Harry arched his back to press his swollen, painful chest against the
cold glass. Harry hissed in pain, but soon found relief in the cold.
Draco lovingly licked the blood from harry’s cheeks and hole, cleaning him.
Harry practically melted, purring. * Love you. We’re going to get through this.
Hogwarts will be ours, I promise. I’m going to take care of you, Harry. Not
going to let anything happen to you… * he murmured into his boy’s mind,
reassuring them both with the mantra.
Chapter end.
***** Discussions *****
A/N: Pixi56 has added two new art to Chapter 3 of her Fanart for Freedom Found
in Chains. It shows the boys in the Hold and they are very impactful. Please
check them out and leave comments if you can. :D Thank you so much! It really
is amazing art. 
Discussions
Draco sat sideways in the window seat, the shimmering green light from the lake
illuminating half of his face. One leg was planted on the ground, the other was
bent in toward his lap. Harry sat with his back to the window, close to Draco,
eyes closed and mentally floating. Draco lifted his hand and pressed a single
finger into Harry’s mouth, and he realized his hand was trembling faintly. 
“I want my touch to heal you,” he whispered, staring unblinking at the side of
his boy’s relaxed face.
Harry hummed in response.
Without adrenaline coursing through is veins, Draco felt reaction set in. His
very first class had been a disaster. So much was riding on things going right.
Draco needed supporters, needed to gather an army that would surround and
protect Harry. He needed to get stronger, smarter… He hadn’t anticipated such
hostility from Snape. Was it because he’d refused Slytherin?
Draco blinked slowly and pulled his wet finger from Harry’s mouth. It tingled
with the charge of his boy’s warm magic and he gently stroked one of Harry’s
bruised nipples. Harry sighed softly, eyes still closed, completely limp and
trusting. 
Draco hadn’t realized how much stress they’d been under. Moving to a new place,
the uncertainty of the Sorting, sharing a room and feeling Neville’s presence
close by even while they were sleeping, and then the disaster of their first
class… It had been a lot to handle. Almost too much. He’d been rougher with
Harry than he liked, fueled by adrenaline and rattled by all the stress…
Draco caressed Harry’s chest until red and purple faded into pale pink and the
swelling disappeared. “What would you have done?” he asked barely over a
whisper.
Green eyes cracked open. Harry felt like a warm haze had wrapped him up in
layers of fluff, but Draco was asking him something. It took him a long minute
to understand what he wanted, but he finally answered, “Asked where I should
go.”
Draco said nothing. He dropped his hand to rest on Harry’s bare stomach and
leaned his head against the cold glass, tired and frustrated. 
Snape had obviously known there were no more spots, that there were an odd
number of students. What purpose would it have served to ask about a seat that
wasn’t there? Of course, looking back with a clear head, Draco realized Snape’s
purpose had been to make him submit by making Draco beg for a place. Any other
student would have done the same as Harry, but Draco was broken. His
instinctual reaction had been to push back harder than he was being pushed. And
things had exploded. 
Soft fingers stroked his cheek and he opened his eyes to see Harry staring at
him - love contentment trust. Harry smiled and feathered his fingers over
Draco’s lips in a caress. Draco, throat tight, pulled Harry more firmly into
his lap. He held him close and let his mind drift.
They stayed in the lake-view room for nearly an hour, curled up together in the
window seat like kittens, murmuring in soft voices love and comfort until it
was time to rejoin the world. They made a quick trip to their dorm room to
gather their Charms textbooks, splash water on their faces, and get fresh
shirts and ties. 
As they dressed, Harry brushed his fingers over the crescent scabs from Draco’s
nails on the outer edge of his butt cheeks. Draco had tried to heal them, but
he had sensed Harry’s sadness and had stopped. Harry hated going against what
Draco wanted, but he couldn’t help how much he liked the marks. They made him
feel strong, loved. They reminded him on a very real level what Draco was
capable of. 
It was a huge comfort to know that all of that force was being directed at
keeping them safe and happy. With Draco taking the lead, things would work out.
They’d be okay. Feeling the dull throb and sting of the marks that Draco had
left on his body and the collar snug to his throat… They let him breathe easy,
helped keep Harry’s constant anxiety at bay.
Freshly dressed and feeling stronger, Harry looked deep into Draco’s eyes.
“Thank you,” he whispered with full-hearted sincerity. 
Draco smiled that soft smile only Harry ever saw and gently kissed Harry’s
lips. “Come on. We have Charms next.”
Using Harry’s map, they made it to the classroom in fifteen minutes and were
the first to arrive.
“Good morning, boys,” a small, high voice said from the front of the room.
“Good morning, Professor,” Draco and Harry answered back simultaneously,
surprised by their professor’s appearance.
The man was small. Barely over three feet, he was standing on what looked like
a pile of thick, hardback books to see over his desk. A shock of white hair
surrounded his head and face. He wore sky blue robes and a matching pointed hat
with its tip folding over. His smile was kind. 
“Welcome to my class. I’m Professor Flitwick. Please, sit anywhere you feel
comfortable. I’m surprised you made it so quickly, considering you came from
the dungeons.” He gave them a playfully stern look. “You don’t already know the
whereabouts of secret passages, do you?”
Draco shook his head with a smile. “No, sir. We were dismissed early from
Potions.”
“I see.” A worried look came over his face.
“We won’t cause any trouble,” Harry assured him, thinking the professor was
afraid they were troublemakers.
“Unless you start it first,” Draco muttered almost too low to hear. He was
still unhappy about Potions. He couldn’t understand why Snape had been so
vicious, but Draco wouldn’t be pushed around by anyone, so he had pushed back.
Of course, he still had the problem of pushing back harder than necessary, but
Snape of all people knew that.
“Oh, dear,” Flitwick murmured. “I wouldn’t dream of thinking you were.” There
was a moment of silence as the little professor considered them. “I suggest you
talk to Headmaster Dumbledore if certain things are going to interfere with
your education. I would also contact your parents. It is not productive to
suffer in silence, my boys. Remember that.”
Harry smiled sweetly. “Thank you, sir. We will remember.”
Draco tilted his head thoughtfully. Maybe he should contact the Malfoys. Was
that what Snape had hoped he’d do? If it was what a “normal” child would do,
then he should adhere to that, shouldn’t he? As his mind raced, Draco very
carefully kept this expression and body language calm. He didn’t want to put
stress on Harry, not when his boy was still floating in a very relaxed mental
space.
Hermione with her map led the way for the other Gryffindor First years. It made
Draco smirk, knowing how dead set Ron had been against it and yet here he was
following Hermione around. The group hesitated in the doorway, eyes wide when
they caught sight of Draco and Harry. Then they all hurried forward.
“I think you’re dead, mate,” Ron exclaimed. “Snape is gonna kill you.”
“Why would you sit at his desk?” Hermione demanded, clearly scandalized. “What
were you thinking?”
“I was thinking there were no other desks. What was I supposed to do?” Draco
calmly asked.
“Ask for a new desk!” Lavender hissed at him.
“We’re down seventy-five points in the first day,” Seamus added hotly. “The
upper years are going to be cheesed off!”
Draco actually hadn’t considered that angle and frowned. He was on thin ice
with Gryffindor, this wasn’t going to help. “Snape was clearly out to get me no
matter what I did. I couldn’t have prevented it,” he argued. “I’ll fix it,
okay?”
“Good morning, students!” Flitwick said a little louder for the third time. “I
see we have quiet the energetic group. However, it is time to learn Charms,
children.”
Everyone settled into seats and took notes on Professor Flitwick’s opening
lecture, but the group of kids continued to shoot Draco glances throughout the
class. Draco sighed and took strength in the - calm trust - that flowed through
the bond. Harry wasn’t worried in the least. He was completely confident in
Draco’s ability to handle this. Draco steeled himself, determined to make that
the reality.
After Charms, the class made their way to the Great Hall, but Draco and Harry
stepped off the stairs one floor early. 
Ron sighed loudly and asked, “Where are you going now?”
“To see the headmaster,” Draco answered with a cheeky smile, one hand hooking
the bangs that had fallen around his face back behind his ear.
Ron called after them, “Try not to make things worse!”
“Acid pops,” Draco stated once they crossed the gargoyle corridor and stood in
front of the Headmaster’s Guardian.
The gargoyle stepped aside and the two boys climbed the stairs to Dumbledore’s
office. It was even more impressive than the last time Draco had seen it.
Sunlight glinted off the items and figures twirling and whirling. Dust motes
shimmered in sunbeams giving the area surrounding the old books a mystical
feel. Harry’s - awe - made it seem so much more mysterious and majestic. 
“Good afternoon, boys. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Dumbledore asked
cheerfully, standing behind his desk. He swept his hand forward to indicate the
two chairs placed before it. “Lemon drop?”
Harry accepted with a quiet, “Thank you, sir.”
Dumbledore practically beamed, handing over the treat. “You are welcome,
Harry,” he said and took a seat in his throne-like chair. “Now what can I do
for you?”
“Sir, we had a bit of an altercation with Professor Snape this morning. He made
unreasonable demands and made it clear he was displeased with our very
presence. He took seventy points off us, gave us detention, and kicked us out
of class. I was advised by Professor Flitwick to inform you and our guardians
because, if this continues, it will interfere with our education. Potions is a
core class, is it not?”
Dumbledore steepled his fingers in front of his face, looking at them seriously
over his half-moon glasses. “I see.” He paused a moment to consider them. “I
cannot say I am surprised that Professor Snape showed you disfavor. There are
many reasons for him to do so. That he went so far tells me that you escalated
things, my boy, and forced his hand so to speak.”
“You are saying this is my fault?” Draco asked quietly, mind working furiously
as he tried to understand any subtler meanings behind Dumbledore’s words.
“You, my boy, are very… assertive,” Dumbledore answered carefully. “That is an
asset in its place, but there are times when you have to weather the storm to
conserve energy instead of fighting it.”
“I don’t understand,” Draco admitted and met the headmaster’s stare directly.
“Snape will continue to attack me and I’m not supposed to react? To what
purpose?”
Dumbledore set his hands down on the desk. He leaned forward and spoke very
seriously. “You will have to trust there is a reason, my boy. It is not
something I can reveal at this time. However, I do believe Severus hopes to
make you bear the brunt of his performance to spare Harry as much as he can.”
Draco considered that, but he saw only one choice and it was the same one as
this morning. “I can’t not react to him attacking and humiliating me,
Headmaster. Especially if he comes after Harry.”
Dumbledore hummed and then offered, “If Severus keeps his act within the realm
of an exacting taskmaster, is occasionally unfair, and uses intonation to
convey his disfavor, would you be able to handle it without retaliating in
front of the other students? He is your professor, Mr. Malfoy, and students
aren’t permitted to be defiant.”
Draco lifted an eyebrow. “I don’t understand. Why did you let me go to
Gryffindor if you don’t want me to be defiant?”
Dumbledore chuckled, eyes sparkling. “Choosing your fate isn’t defiance, Mr.
Malfoy. We are what our choices make of us. I am pleased you would choose the
Light.”
Draco stared. What the fuck was that crap? Surely the headmaster wasn’t really
that naive, was he? Just because Draco was in Gryffindor didn’t make him some
champion of Goodness and Light. Nor did Slytherin mean evil. Draco knew from
painful experience that someone who looked nice could be horribly evil, and
someone who appeared dangerous could be kind. The worst, or best depending how
you looked at it, Death Eaters would not be Slytherin. They were the ones who
could hide who they truly were and so cause more damage to the unsuspecting.
“What about the point system?” Harry spoke up for the first time as Draco sat
thinking. He kept his voice and demeanor as polite as possible. “Seventy points
from Gryffindor in a single period is too much. Gryffindor won’t tolerate
that.” Or tolerate Draco,he thought - worried.
“I believe you will be surprised.” Dumbledore smiled so wide they could see his
teeth through his beard. “Gryffindor will stand by their own. Now, I believe it
would be best to summon Andromeda. She can be seen eating with us tonight at
dinner and it will lend credence as to why Severus has to be a little more
discrete about his supposed dislike.”
Draco gave Harry’s hand a squeeze, silently telling him he would handle the
point thing and was rewarded by the worry simmering through the bond
dissolving. Standing, he politely asked, “May I use your floo?”
“Of course, my boy.” Dumbledore rose form his seat and came around his desk. He
led Draco to the fireplace and offered him some floo powder from the mantle.
His cheerful demeanor dimmed, however, when Draco called, “Malfoy Manor,
Wiltshire.”
Draco calmly explained before he put his head in the fire, “Andromeda has been
spared most of the ‘Lost Boys’ fervor. I want her in the public eye as little
as possible. Besides, Lucius is the more intimidating presence and on the
Hogwarts’ Board of Governors.”
Dumbledore gave Harry a look. The messy-haired boy stood a few paces back from
the fireplace and seemed completely at ease. Dumbledore sighed and resigned
himself to dealing with Lucius. He waited longer than he’d expected, Draco’s
conversation with his father lasting about five minutes. 
They couldn’t hear them from this end and Dumbledore wondered what exactly
Draco had to say that would take so long, and then he realized the boy probably
had to explain why he was in Gryffindor in the first place. That brought a
cheerful smile back to Dumbledore’s face. It always felt so satisfying to
purloin the children of Dark families to the side of the Light.
Draco finally pulled his head from the floo and out stepped Lucius Malfoy,
regal and cold, cane in hand and his long hair tied back with a thin silk
ribbon. Dumbledore twinkled at him, but was disappointed to see a non-flustered
smile upon Lord Malfoy’s face.
Lucius’s grey eyes settled on Harry. “Congratulations on Gryffindor,” he said
with a polite nod. “I am sure your birth parents would be pleased.”
“Thank you, Lucius,” Harry answered with a smile.
Dumbledore kept his expression pleasant, but inside he was deeply suspicious at
the easiness between the two. 
Lucius turned to his old enemy. “Headmaster, I believe we have to discuss the
conduct of one of your teachers.”
Draco held out his hand. “Come on, Harry.” 
Harry took it obediently and followed him out of the office. 
“We missed lunch, but we have a free period before Magical Theory. Dora gave me
the directions to the kitchens,” Draco explained. He didn’t like it when Harry
missed meals. He’d taken the Healer’s warnings about the negative effects of
malnutrition to heart.
…
Narcissa watched her husband floo away to deal with the situation at Hogwarts
and her relaxed posture filled with tension. This was her chance. Lucius would
be gone for several hours. 
She’d known as soon as he had shown her his bare arm that he was hiding
something big from her. There was no other reason to keep her in the dark
regarding the ritual and it was very telling that he was careful not to name
the exact ritual he’d used.
She went directly toward the dungeons. It was where they had a ready ritual
room and altar. She had used it every year for the blood ritual to try and find
their son. It was the most logical place to begin to look for clues. She
didn’t, however, expect to turn around, just remembering the letter she had
wanted to write to Mrs. Parkinson…. 
Narcissa stopped and narrowed her eyes dangerously. There was a subtle
Forgetfulness Ward to repel those trying to enter the dungeon. She broke it
easily and then had to face Lottie who tried to bar her entrance. Narcissa had
Dobby restrain and gag her, much to Dobby’s distress. 
Her heart beat a mile a minute as she descended into the dark. A Lumos lit the
way and she found herself standing tensely in front of a warded and sealed cell
door. Lucius was keeping a prisoner. Taking a deep breath, she gathered her
strength and readied her wand, determined to break open her husband's secret.
… 
Magical Theory went as well as could be supposed. The First years were still on
edge, especially as Draco merely shrugged when they demanded to know what he’d
done to “fix” things. Harry did his best to get conversation flowing and away
from the topic of Snape, but despite his best efforts it was stilted and
stiff. 
They were just about to enter the Great Hall for dinner when someone grabbed
Draco by the robe collar and spun him around, slamming his back against the
stone wall. The girls gasped, Lavender actually giving a short, sharp scream. 
A heavy-set Gryffindor Sixth year put his face into Draco’s and growled, “I
know what you are, Malfoy. A Slytherin spy sent to sink us.”
Draco, head throbbing from where it had impacted the wall, grit his teeth. He
was just barely managing to keep his magic in check. Don’t kill the kid, no
maiming… he reminded himself forcefully, but it was hard because his adrenaline
had spiked with the pain and his heart was slamming against his ribs.
“Get off him!” Harry yelled, filled with - protective rage,and charged forward,
green eyes blazing behind his glasses. He drew up short when the teen leveled
his wand right at his face with his free hand and four other Gryffindor
upperclassmen appeared out of the shadows at the thug’s back. 
Draco slammed his wrist into the bully’s, forcing him to let go. His white-
blond hair had fallen to frame his face and his eyes seemed to glitter in the
low light. He was practically half the older teen’s height, but his glare gave
the boy pause. “Snape had it out for me. There wasn’t anything I could do.”
“You should have seen him sit at Snape’s desk,” Ron chimed in desperately. His
shock of red hair seemed even brighter against his pale, anxious face, his
freckles standing out boldly. Ron held tightly onto Harry’s arm to keep him
from doing anything stupid. Heart thundering, he managed a squeaky, nervous
laugh. “Snape looked like he was going to explode! It was great!”
They didn’t seem impressed and took a threatening step closer to their group,
looks of hatred and fury on their face when a loud burst of laughter came
behind the gang. 
Fred and George pushed past the older teens, grinning ear to ear. “I’d’ve loved
to see that, Forge!” “Can you believe the balls on this one, Gred?” Somehow
they insinuated their way to Draco’s side and flung their arms over his
shoulders.
“I’m getting those points back,” Draco promised darkly, still glaring up at the
gang leader. “I already talked to Dumbledore.”
“Took on Snape and won!” George cheered, pulling Draco toward the Great Hall
doors. 
“He’s a right champion!” Fred exclaimed loudly. “A hero!”
The First years hurried after them, leaving the angry teens behind. George and
Fred were singing some kind of hero’s song, putting Draco’s name in for the
hero, but Draco was intensely aware that most of the Gryffindors sitting at the
table were not amused. A few who had to be the twins’ friends were on board and
clapping Draco’s back, but they were just a dozen out of a hundred and fifty. 
The twins pulled Draco and Harry down onto the bench seat and sat one on either
side of the two smaller boys. They weren’t big themselves, only Third years,
but it was clear they were making a statement that Draco and Harry were under
their protection. 
Percy joined them, sitting across from Draco, and gave a subtle nod to his
younger twin brothers. Draco had the intuition that Percy had asked the twins
to keep an eye out for them, and he gave the older teen an approving smile. 
They were also joined by three girls and Kell’s older brother, Lee. The rest of
the First years filled the seats around them. They had clearly decided to stick
with Draco against common enemies: Snape and bullies.
“Who’s that eating next to Dumbledore?” one of the older girls asked, pointing
to the Head Table. “He’s hot!”
Draco looked over and smirked. “That’s Lucius Malfoy.”
Fred and George whistled. “You’re not messing around!” they said together.
“Snape’s done for!” Ron crowed, potatoes half-filling his mouth.
“Who were those guys?” Harry demanded, heart still racing from the attack.
“Some Gryffindor fanatics,” Percy answered softly.
“Nothing wrong with House pride,” was Lee’s opinion, his dreads bouncing as he
defended his plate from his little sister who was trying to steal his perfectly
buttered roll.
“Nothing at all,” Fred said slyly, brown eyes bright with mischief. 
“And we might help him show some,” George added with an evil grin.
The girls giggled nervously while the older boys looked a little pale.
Draco showed an equally fierce show of teeth. “I’m in!”
Fred ruffled Draco’s soft blond hair, much to the boy’s disgust. “Nah! It’ll
look like you’re really against Gryffindor like they said if you helped.”
“Leave the pranking to us,” George agreed. “You keep doing what you’re doing.”
“And what’s that?” Draco asked, fixing his hair with a huff.
“Why rocking the boat of course!” the twins exclaimed together.
Word spread quickly that a very serious and attractive Lord Lucius Malfoy was
eating at the Head Table with Headmaster Dumbledore. It was also noted that
Professor Snape was not in attendance. The Slytherin table was unusually quiet,
their expressions studiously blank except for the younger years who looked
worried and confused. 
Toward the end of the meal, Professor McGonagall approached their table and
told them that they were wanted in the Headmaster’s office. Draco and Harry
rose, school bags on their shoulders, and made their way to the Headmaster’s
Tower.
Lucius was waiting for them at the fireplace. He gave the boys a cool smile and
a nod of his head. “I look forward to your letters home. Make our family
proud.” He took each boy by the shoulder and squeezed lightly before turning to
the floo, his cane clicking on the floor.
“Thank you,” Draco said softly.
Lucius turned back and gave Draco a daring smile, and then he was gone.
Dumbledore cleared his throat, eyes twinkling like mad. “The point counters
have been corrected. Any points taken from you during Potions today has been
returned. The detentions stand, however. Hop to. You don’t want to be late.
Professor Snape is expecting you seven-fifteen sharp.”
“Thank you, Headmaster,” Harry said politely as Draco led him from the room by
his hand. 
… 
Lucius stepped out of the floo feeling buoyant. Making that Vow and removing
the Dark Mark made him feel new, and the reward was great indeed: a clean start
with his son. Draco had called on him for protection! 
His enthusiasm deflated instantly when he spotted Narcissa sitting in one of
the receiving room’s chairs. Her dress was torn, her hair had half-fallen from
its knot, soot smudged her skin, her hands bore burns, but it was her eyes,
burning with blue fury, that drew him up short.
“I have to ask myself… Why would my husband so strongly ward a cell in the
dungeon? Who could he possibly be warding against… except for me?” Narcissa
spoke with quiet force, slowly getting to her feet. “Such dangerous and painful
wards… with only me in mind.”
“Narcissa…” Lucius said weakly. 
Injuring her had not at all been his intent when he’d constructed those wards,
but he couldn’t argue with her reasoning. It was logical. There was no one else
in the house to ward against but her. She would not believe him if he told her
he’d been afraid of someone else breaking in to rescue his prisoner. How would
they even know his prisoner was there? How would they get through the manor’s
wards? He perhaps hadn’t thought it all the way through when he placed those
wards on the cell door. He was honestly horrified that Narcissa was so wounded
by spells he’d laid down.
“Such strange behavior… Keeping from your wife a potentially fatal ritual… A
ritual you would not name… It made me wonder what the components of that ritual
had been…” She continued in that soft, dangerous voice as she took one slow,
small step toward him after another. She finally stood directly in front of him
and looked coldly up into his eyes. “And what do I find… hidden away in the
dark… but my sister! The sister I have mourned since I got news of her death in
Azkaban!”
“Your sister stole Draco from you. From us,” Lucius told her ruthlessly. “She
took your son away and left him vulnerable. To be enslaved and tortured by
filthy Muggle men.”
Narcissa was unimpressed. “Get on your knees, Lucius. I want to look down at
you.”
Lucius’s eyes flared wide. His head reared back in instinctual refusal… But
then he calmed himself and sank to his knees. He owed her penance. 
Narcissa stared down at him, expression as hard and unyielding as stone. “Her
crimes were against my son as much as yours, Lucius, and you denied me
knowledge. That is your first wrong against me. Denied me a chance at revenge.
That is your second. You then held someone of my blood and inflicted torture
without my consent. Your third wrong. How long, Lucius? She could not tell me
for certain.”
“Three years,” he answered quietly. 
Narcissa let silence fill the room. Lucius knelt before her, his fine robes
pooling on the floor, his cane discarded, but he remained unbowed. She’d see
about that. “You let me believe she was dead…” Her voice was raw with pain.
Tears streaked her face and it made her look all the more ferocious. “What was
it?”
“A golem,” he answered softly, pale-faced as he looked up at her. 
The pain was terrible, but then she masked it. Cold as ice, she said slowly and
with precision, “You owe me obedience, Lucius. Do you remember?” She caressed
her cheek where he had struck her all those years ago, bruising her skin.
Lucius tensed. “Are you calling in my debt?”
Narcissa smiled and it was a terrifying expression. “Yes, Lucius. I am. You
will relinquish all rights of vengeance against Bellatrix Black. You will place
her under my authority. Should you wish to have further dealings with her, you
will have to go through me. Do you accept?”
Lucius grit his teeth. The storm of hate inside him howled at the thought of
Bellatrix going free. He was about to refuse when he saw his wife through the
red of his rage. Narcissa, fair and strong, beautiful and clever… and terribly
hurt by him. She was the woman he would forever be devoted to. His beloved
wife. He loved her, dearly, and she was asking him to honor the promises and
debts between them. If he could not, he’d lose her completely.
It pained him, his neck practically creaked it was so tense, but he bent his
head and said, “Yes.”
…
Draco stood outside the Potions classroom. He wasn’t sure what to expect. How
much had been an act Snape had to put on and how much was real? Dumbledore
couldn’t convince him that there hadn’t been some truth in Snape’s rage. He
gave Harry a look. His boy stood beside him with only a little worry tainting
his calm. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself and knocked.
“Enter!” Snape’s voice called angrily.
Draco pushed open the door and the two boy stepped inside. It was even darker
than during the day, but not so dark that they couldn’t see. Snape stood in
front of his desk, his arms folded, skin a sallow white, with a fierce glare. 
“Sit at the first desk. I have your task prepared for you,” Snape said with
soft malevolence. With a pointed look at Harry, he added, “I hope that is
explicit enough for you, Mr. Potter.”
Draco felt irritation crawl under his skin. He wanted to snap and growl, but he
forced himself to remain silent. It had been so long since he'd had to endure a
bad situation without actively fighting back. This was nowhere near as bad as
the torture he’d faced at Raymond’s hands, but the parallel made him jumpy as
hell.
“Yes, sir,” Harry answered easily. 
Snape’s hostility did not bother him. Obeying simple tasks was comforting for
him. He shot Draco a concerned glance, knowing it wasn’t the same for the
blond. Draco gave him a tight smile and led him toward the front of the room. A
pile of dead lizard-type creatures were placed on the desk. The creature was a
dark, muddy green and extremely slimy. Sharp silver scalpels were placed beside
the pile. 
“You will be dissecting these for ingredients,” Snape told them with heavy
impatience. He demonstrated how to remove the eyes, tongue, skin, and tail. The
rest he diced, explaining as if to very stupid people what exactly “diced”
meant. “There are two more baskets. I suggest you get started. You won’t be
leaving until you’re done.”
“Yes, sir,” Harry said again and began. 
Draco copied him and used his bangs to conceal his angry glare.
They had only been working for about ten minutes, the disgusting smell and
texture of the lizard’s slime making both boys feel nauseous when Snape
suddenly slammed his hand on the teacher’s desk. Harry jumped and Draco bunched
his shoulders up defensively, trying to restrain a growl.
“Our listeners are gone,” Snape snapped furiously. “Children have the patience
of a gnat!” He stood up and strode threateningly toward their desk. “I had
hoped you had matured, Draco, but instead you’re the same arrogant little
bastard you were four years ago! Flaunting the rules, choosing your own House,
refusing to respect any sort of authority…!”
Draco tossed his head to part the curtain of his hair and met Snape glare for
glare. “I have good reason to want to be in Gryffindor and you know it!”
“Good reason!” Snape scoffed, black eyes glittering with malice. “Your reasons
and wants do not supersede society! You’re a child! Know your place!”
“My place is to ensure Harry’s survival and comfort! That’s the only thing that
matters!”
“It’s not the only thing that matters, you imbecile!”
“Stop,” Harry begged. Tears fell down his cheeks, his voice a soft plea.
“Please, Professor Snape.” Black eyes burned into him, but Harry met the cold
stare with a gentle expression. “Draco is Draco. We’d be dead if he were anyone
less, don’t you see?”
Draco slid his fingers into Harry’s wild hair and pulled the boy close, letting
Harry rest his head on his shoulder as he wiped at his eyes.
Severus spun, keeping his back to the boys. His hands fisted at his sides. A
few minutes passed before he was able to face the children again. “I apologize,
Harry. I am… frustrated.” He met Draco’s guarded eyes. “Today did not have to
become such a battle. A little taunting and you would have been able to
continue class. Instead you challenged me and things escalated. One day you
will challenge the wrong person and the backlash will be more than you can
handle.”
Draco opened his mouth to say he’d always handle it, but Snape held up his hand
to cut him off.
“You’re too arrogant, too arrogant by far. It’s dangerous. You have Harry to
think of.”
“I always think of Harry,” Draco countered, voice low and rough.
Snape glared, frustration rushing back. “You’re in for a fall, Draco, and it
will be Harry who suffers for it.” He strode past them, robes flaring around
his ankles. “Finish your detention and go.” The classroom door slammed shut
behind him.
Draco forced his shoulders and hands to relax, Harry’s - concern - a constant
itch under his skin. “Snape’ll understand in time,” he offered. Forcefully
hooking his bangs behind his ears, he turned back to the task at hand. “Let’s
get this done.”
“Yes, Draco,” Harry answered obediently. 
As he worked side-by-side with Draco in the quiet, dimly lit classroom, Harry
slowly felt a swell of hot determination begin to burn through his veins. His
whole purpose in life was serving and caring for Draco. He couldn’t do much for
Draco as he was, but Harry would get stronger, he’d study hard, and then
everyone would know, even Snape, that if Draco ever did fall, Harry would be
there to save him. 
… 
Ron lifted his head off the side of the couch arm where he’d kind of folded an
hour ago as the portrait swung open. Most of the House was up in the dorm
rooms, but the First year Gryffindor boys plus Hermione and Percy had stayed in
the common room to wait. 
Draco and Harry walked in and with them came the most awful smell. 
“Whew! What did he have you doing?” Ron demanded, pinching his nose.
“Cutting up these lizard things,” Draco answered tiredly. His hair had fallen
around his face and he hadn’t bothered trying to tuck it back behind his ears.
“We washed our hands three times and they still smell.”
“How many of them were there?” Hermione asked curiously. “You were gone hours!
It’s past curfew.”
“Hundreds,” Draco told her with a grimace. “We’re going to get a shower and go
to bed. You didn’t have to wait up.”
Ron, Dean, and Seamus gave some encouraging and/or sympathizing words as they
made their way up to their dorms. Draco and Harry binned their dirty clothes
and pulled on their night robes before heading to the bathroom. Neville was
nice enough not to complain about the smell coming off the dirty clothes. There
wasn’t anything they could do about it.
Percy was waiting in the bathroom. “This ointment will clean all the remaining
residue from your hands,” he told Draco softly, pushing his glasses up his nose
much the way Harry did.
Draco felt a surge of affection for the teen as he accepted the jar. “Thank
you, Percy. I really appreciate it.”
Percy nodded his head and slipped out of the bathroom, giving them privacy.
Chapter end.
A/N:Any ideas for pranks to pull on the Gryffindor bullies and/or Slytherins
who are still pissed, I’d really appreciate hearing them. Also, I’d love some
feedback on a Gryffindor Draco. What would you like most to see or have me take
advantage of? What do you not want to see? I need a few kick-starting ideas
because I’m hitting writer’s block. I give you my thanks in advance!
A/N: Pixi56 has added two new art to Chapter 3. It shows the boys in the Hold
and they are very impactful. Please check them out and leave comments if you
can. :D Thank you so much! It really is amazing art. 
***** The Second Day *****
A/N: Fan Art!!
Just a reminder that Pixi56 on AO3 has created amazing art for Freedom Found in
Chains. Two more drawings have been added to Chapter 3 of the boys in the Hold
and they are very moving. It really is amazing. Check it out and leave comments
if you can.
Also, there is some instagram art by @princeoftheundead for the story. Look up
#sensiblytainted. If you have a moment, check it out and leave comments and
likes. :D
A/N2: Percy’s tattoo!!
A reader discovered that I had made a mistake regarding Percy’s tattoo. In
Freedom Found in Chains, Percy’s tattoo was a blood-red snake with yellow-green
eyes. On the train to Hogwarts, I called it a red dragon. I got confused
because Harry’s tattoo is a white dragon. I am very sorry. I went back and
fixed it. Percy’s tattoo is a snake. That’s why Harry can talk to it. Also, I
added the detail that the tattoos grow slightly larger over time, mostly so
that they stay about the same dimensions as the boys grow. I apologize again
for the error!
A/N3:Happy Birthday, Harry! Here is an extra update in your honor!
The Second Day
Draco sat up with a gasp. It was dark, the room lit by the oil lamps. Neville
stood nervously by their bed, holding the curtains open. Draco instinctively
held his arm over Harry protectively. “What?” he asked gruffly, head full of
cotton.
“I-it’s almost m-midnight,” Neville stuttered quietly, eyes wide with fear.
Draco growled. Midnight? They’d been held until after curfew for Snape’s
detention and had only gotten to bed after quick showers less than an hour ago.
“The fuck?” Slowly it dawned on him that the chubby boy was wearing his school
clothes. Draco distinctly remembered seeing the boy in pajamas before going to
bed.
“We h-have A-astronomy,” Neville answered weakly.
Harry suddenly sat bolt upright - anxiety guilt. “I’m so sorry, Draco! I
totally forgot.” He scrambled out of bed. “Thank you for waking us up,
Neville,” he said in a rush, handing Draco clothes and practically flying into
some of his own. He pulled on slacks without bothering with his socks and
shoved his bare feet into his shoes.
“Shit,” Draco said grumpily, pulling on the jeans and t-shirt Harry had given
him. He left his school robes hanging open and didn’t bother with a tie. He
finished putting everything they’d need for class into their bags while Harry
knotted his tie and buttoned up his school robe.
Neville waited nervously for his roommates, holding tightly to the old
telescope his grandmother had given him. (He wasn’t trusted with anything new
as he’d likely break it.) 
Roughly three minutes later Draco swung his bag over his shoulder and took up
one of the two very expensive telescopes Narcissa had purchased for them.
“Thanks, Neville. You were really helpful.” 
Neville blushed red with a happy smile and followed them down to where the rest
of the First years were waiting, huge yawns held behind their hands. 
Draco bumped Ron’s shoulder. “You didn’t have to wait up after our detention,
especially as we have Astronomy.”
“Wan’ned to make sure Snape didn’t kill ya,” Ron muttered sleepily. 
Hermione and Harry took the lead as they had the maps. Draco ended up carrying
Harry’s telescope as well as his own while Neville carried Hermione’s. There
was a brief argument about which turn to take to get to the Astronomy Tower,
but it was quickly settled. Ten minutes later, they climbed a tiny, narrow
staircase built into the side of the tower and stepped out onto the roof where
the other First years were already standing huddled against the cold wind. 
The roof of this particular tower was flat and round, made from the same rough
grey stone as the rest of the castle. Square half-walls surrounded them,
reminding Draco and Harry of pumpkin teeth. The gap between each square “tooth”
was wide enough to let a kid slip through to fall to their death. There were no
torches, but there were a few oil lamps placed on the floor at each half-wall
next to the gaps.
“Good evening, children,” the professor said, standing frighteningly close to
one of the gaps. She was tall and willowy with a beautiful, deep voice. Her
skin was a dark brown, which helped her blend into the night, but she wore
silver robes that had stars and constellations embroidered on them making her
easy to see. “Now that the Gryffindors have joined us, we can begin. Please
pick a gap in the wall and set up your telescopes.”
There was some hesitation, but slowly the First years moved toward the wall and
placed their telescopes down. Draco gave a nod to Pansy, Vince, and Greg. The
two boys returned the gesture with smiles, but Pansy turned away, expression
blank. Draco ignored her. 
“Welcome to Astronomy. My name is Professor Sinistra. We will chart
constellations, study planet rotations and compositions, and memorize the stars
among other things.”
The adrenaline of being woken by Neville and almost arriving late to class wore
off quickly. The sky was beautiful, but it was cold and they were tired. By the
end of the ninety minute class, they were so tired they dragged their feet and
telescopes back to Gryffindor Tower almost half-asleep. 
It was close to three in the morning. Draco let his school robe fall to the
floor, kicked off his shoes, and flopped onto his bed belly-first without
undressing. Harry picked up the robe and hung it next to his own in the closet.
Quickly pulling on one of the large t-shirts they had for sleeping, he crawled
in next to Draco who was already sound asleep.
Five hours later, their alarm got them up at eight, several hours later than
they were used to waking. They hurried through their morning routine to get to
breakfast before it closed at nine. They weren’t the only ones groggy and
grumpy. In fact, the only cheerful First years at the table were Seamus,
because nothing seemed to get that boy down long, and Fay, who was practically
bouncing in her seat with excitement for their flying class that afternoon. 
“It’ll be my first time on a broom with all safety restrictions off,” she told
Kell excitedly. 
“Yeah, you told me,” the girl said with a grimace.
“Who schedules flying after a midnight class?” Hermione grumbled. Her brown
hair was even frizzier today than normal, a sure sign of nerves. “When you’re
tired, you’re more likely to make mistakes.”
“Maybe they want us a bit tired so we’re not so unmanageable,” Draco reasoned.
“It’s the only thing I can think of.”
Hermione and Ron made a face at that; Hermione because she didn’t see how
anyone could be excited for flying on a broom no matter the circumstances and
Ron because he hated that the teachers were trying to put a damper on something
he loved.
“We have Defense first,” Dean pointed out.
“Hope it goes better than Double Potions,” Seamus said with a grin and took a
big bite of a breakfast biscuit. 
Draco scowled down at his food. “Don’t remind me.”
…
Unlike the four core classes of Charms, Potions, Transfiguration, and
Herbology, which had a single class a week that was exclusive to each House for
intensive study, all the rest of their classes were shared with one other House
to make the average class size about twenty students. The exceptions were
Astronomy and Flying, which consisted of all the First years together. 
The Gryffindors shared Xylomancy and Herbology with Hufflepuff; Potions,
Magical Theory, and Defense with Slytherin; Charms, Transfiguration, and
History of Magic with Ravenclaw. That meant they were paired with Slytherin
again for their first class of the day. Draco hoped that wasn’t a bad omen.
They arrived about at the same time as the Slytherin students, but there was no
time for another conflict with Pansy as the classroom door was already open and
a strong smell of garlic wafted out from it. Curious, they walked in to see a
tall, wide room. 
The left wall had three large, arched windows, but they were darkened with some
kind of spell, casting the room in shadow. Torches were lit intermittently
along the right wall. At the back of the room there were stairs that led up to
a round balcony with a door that presumably led to the professor’s office. Bats
and other strange, ominous creatures hung from the ceiling. Paintings of
wizards dueling were placed along the walls. On the teacher’s desk in front of
the blackboard sat a bright green iguana. Draco noticed right away that there
was a spot for three at the front desk on the Gryffindor side of the room. 
Ron shot Draco a grin. “Come on. Let’s see if I can keep you out of trouble,
then,” he said and led the way to the three-person desk.
Bemused, Draco followed with Harry.
They were still settling into their desks when the door at the top of the
stairs opened and a pale man with a faded purple turban appeared. “S-sorry I’m
l-late. I w-was f-finishing some l-last m-minute pr-pr-pre-preparati-tions,”
the man said with a strained smile.
Draco’s eyebrows lifted and he shared a look of disbelief with Ron. Harry
clutched at his scar. A pervading ache resonated through the bond. Draco's
heart rate picked up and he focused with hawk-like intensity on the seemingly
pathetic man. The professor positioned himself at the front of the room, too
close to Harry for Draco’s liking, way too close, and lifted the iguana to his
shoulder.
Professor Quirrell stuttered his way through the syllabus for the year. Nothing
strange happened. In fact, it was hard for most of the class to stay awake.
They’d had a late night, the room was shadowed, and the professor was
ridiculous and hard to understand. Quite a few of them would have fallen
asleep, including Ron, except for the aggravating and constant smell of garlic.
Draco wasn’t fooled. His heart pumped with clear purpose. Quirrell was linked
to the Dark Lord somehow and that made him an enemy to destroy.
“Wha’s a matter?” Ron asked with a yawn as they filed out of the room. 
Harry was quiet, his head still hurting, but the further they got from Defense,
the better he felt. He had ignored the ache and had taken notes carefully on
everything the professor had said, determined to do well in all his classes. In
fact, he was determined to stay as far from Professor Quirrell as he could. The
man made him feel like he should run and hide, and he knew Draco had picked up
on it. Harry felt terrible about messing up another class for Draco - guilt
anxiety.
* Don’t worry about it, Harry. I’ll take care of everything, *Draco promised,
putting the bite of an order behind his words. 
Harry ducked this head - submission trust regret.
Out loud Draco answered Ron, “Nothing.”
Ron eyed Draco suspiciously with a scowl. “What’re you planning?”
Draco didn’t answer, staring back at the redhead with a blank expression.
Harry looked between the two boys and put on a bright smile. “We have Xylomancy
next. What do you think it’s going to be like? It sounds so interesting. Do you
think we’ll really be able to tell the future?” 
Draco softened as Harry’s honest - curiosity- filled him with what felt like
gentle sunbeams. He ruffled the boy’s hair, the tension in his shoulders and
face relaxing. “I guess we’ll find out.”
…
Xylomancy was held in a courtyard on the west side. It was large with benches
along the courtyard walls. An older man with olive skin and thick black hair
that fell to his shoulders sat on a bench placed directly in the center of the
courtyard. 
“Welcome students,” he greeted them. “I am Professor Mopsus. Please pair up and
take a seat.”
There were an odd number of Hufflepuffs as well as Gryffindors, so that meant
there would be one Hufflepuff and Gryffindor paired. Ron made a bit of a face
as he was the odd one out and had to share a bench with Hufflepuff Justin
Warrington-Pleasant. 
Green vines and flowers grew along the walls. White stones were placed onto
soft grass to form paths to each bench from the castle door. The sun was warm
as it filled the courtyard, sitting directly above their heads. Mopsus had one
dark brown eye and one blue. He watched them with a strangely knowing
expression. An aura of serenity emanated from his tall, thin frame. Even his
robes were a soothing, natural green and brown. 
“Xylomancy, like most divinatory systems, is quiet ancient and has been
practiced since time immemorial. Derived from the Greek xylo, meaning wood, and
manteia, meaning divination, it is the art and practice of divining the past,
the present, and the future by interpreting the omens from twigs, pieces of
wood, or fallen tree branches. Those who are most skilled can even divine the
future from the arrangement of logs in the fireplace.”
The deep, solemn voice drew them in and soon every single one of them were
taking notes quite seriously whether or not they were believers. At the end of
class, Professor Mopsus gave them the assignment to memorize the generic
meanings of the common positions of fallen wood before their next class on
Monday.
The First years talked excitedly about the class and the ability to potentially
see the future as they went to lunch. There were a lot of laughs about what
things they’d want to know and what things they wouldn’t and a lot of jokes as
they playfully made predictions about each other. Draco left early, however,
hardly touching his food when he noticed that Quirrell had failed to show up to
the meal. 
“I’ll meet you at Transifguration,” he told Harry, getting up from the bench. 
“Wait.” Harry pulled the school map from his bag and handed it to him. “We’ll
use Hermione’s.”
Draco gave him a smile before ordering, “Clean your plate, Harry.”
“Yes, Draco,” he said quietly.
As Draco left them, Ron gave Harry a curious look. “Where do you think he’s
going?”
“I don’t know.” Harry covered his - worry - with a smile. “I bet if we were
good at Xylomancy we could find out.”
“Maybe he had to go number two,” Seamus said with a loud laugh, making Dean
snort and the girls wrinkle their noses.
… 
Draco made his way carefully back to Defense. The classroom was left unlocked
and he slipped inside after carefully listening at the door to make sure there
wasn’t a class running late or something. His heart beat hard against his ribs.
Every sound seemed like a roar in his ears, the smell of garlic was
overwhelming, and every little change in the air made the hair on his arms
stand on end. He crept as silently as he could to the stairs, making use of the
shadows created by the darkened windows. 
At the top, he put his ear to the door. He could hear two muffled voices, but
he could only catch a few words of Quirrell’s. Something about growing weaker
and being patient. When the voices fell silent, Draco quickly hurried down the
stairs and was almost spotted. He hid beneath them as Quirrell came down. The
man was shaking, clearly upset. He left the classroom completely and slammed
the door behind him. 
Sweat rolling down his neck, Draco held perfectly still, but he couldn’t sense
anyone else up in the office nor did anyone follow after Quirrell for several
minutes. Draco was excruciatingly aware of the time. Lunch was drawing to a
close or had finished already. Soon a class would arrive as well as the
professor. He had to move. He couldn’t wait for whoever was still in the
office, if they were there at all. 
…
Harry waited anxiously for Draco to arrive. The blond was a few minutes late
already, but fortunately the professor wasn’t there yet, either. The class was
with the Gryffindor First years only for their intensive class. Seamus was
grumbling about Draco losing them another hundred points.
“If he did, he’d get them back for us,” Harry assured the Irish boy, eyes still
on the door. 
Draco strode in as if he had no worries in the world. Harry’s whole body
relaxed and he smiled happily as Draco took his place beside him. Ron and
Seamus were about to question him when the cat who’d been lying on the floor
jumped up on the desk and gave a loud yowl. They watched with wide eyes and
gaping mouths as the cat leapt from the desk and transformed into a standing
Professor McGonagall in midair. Now that they were looking for it, McGonagall’s
thin, angular face and slightly slanted eyes did have a feline quality to
them. 
“You are late, Mr. Malfoy,” she said dryly into the absolute silence.
“Sorry, professor. I got lost on my way back from the loo,” Draco answered with
cool calm.
“Told you,” Seams hissed and was elbowed by Dean.
“See that it doesn’t happen again,” McGonagall told him sternly and turned to
the blackboard. “Welcome to Transfiguration. I am Professor McGonagall. I
suggest you pay attention in this class because Transfiguration is one of the
most challenging fields of magic. If you fall behind, it will seem impossible
as we move through the curriculum.”
…
There were distinctly mixed feelings as the bell rang. It was finally time for
their first flying lesson. Fay practically ran out to the school’s side yard,
pulling the rest of them after her. Flying was taken with all the First years
together, so there was a large crowd gathered on the grass. 
A woman with short, grey hair and golden brown eyes strode through the group to
stand in front of them. Four bundles of ten school broomsticks floated after
her and landed on the grass. 
“Well, now,” she said with a cocky grin. “Welcome, children. Professor Hooch,
here, and I will be teaching you lot how to fly on adult broomsticks. If any of
you set one toe out of line, you’ll be off your broom before you can cry foul,
you hear me?”
A loud murmur of agreement met her words.
“Good.” Putting her hands behind her back, she marched up and down their
rudimentary line. “During this class, you will be asked to perform basic
maneuvers upon a broom. I will demonstrate and then I will ask you to follow.
There will be times I will ask you to return to the ground as I instruct those
who need extra attention. Again, if you do not follow my instructions directly,
you will be removed. Is that clear?”
Another murmured agreement from the group of students.
“Line up. Give each other space.” Hooch flicked her wand and the bundles of
broom unraveled. “Everyone take a broom.”
There was a mad rush as the kids who were excited about flying hurried forward.
Harry gave a happy grin and pulled Draco by the hand, much to the blond’s
amusement. Harry loved flying. He wasn’t as excited as Fay, but he’d never
ridden a broom without safety spells before and he was really looking forward
to it. They ended up between Neville and Ron. Hermione stood on Neville’s other
side, and both she and Neville looked distinctly nervous verging into
terrified.
“Stand with your broom next to your dominant side. Place your hand over the
broom and say up with determination,” Hooch instructed, continuing to march up
and down.
“Up!” Harry called and the broom firmly smacked into his palm. He grinned
triumphantly at Draco.
Draco smirked back, his broom also in his hand.
“Up. Up! UP!” Hermione was calling as the broom wobbled drunkenly upward.
Ron’s broom flew up with sudden force and smacked the redhead in the face.
Seamus and Dean laughed, but Harry asked with concern, “Are you okay?”
“Fine, Harry,” Ron grumbled, blushing in embarrassment. “Oh, shut up, Seamus!”
The rest of the Houses had similar mixed successes, but once everyone had their
broom in hand, Professor Hooch gave them the instruction to mount, kick off,
hover, and then come back down. Unsurprisingly, Fay was in the air before the
professor finished speaking.
“Miss Dunbar, come down this instant!” Professor Hooch called furiously. Fay
did so with obvious reluctance. “What did I say about following my
instructions, young lady? This is your very last warning before you turn in
your broom and return to the castle for the day.”
“Yes, professor. I’m sorry,” the dark-haired girl answered, contrite.
“Now, on my whistle. Three, two…” but before she could blow the whistle,
Neville floated off the ground. 
“Neville!” Hermione cried and reached out to grab the boy’s robes, but he was
already too high.
“Come down here this instant!” Hooch ordered.
“Shit,” Draco muttered. This wasn’t going to end well.
Neville quickly lost control of the broom and his screams filled the air as he
was tossed this way and that, slamming twice into the castle wall. Hooch had
mounted her own broom and was chasing after him, casting a spell that sounded
like “immobilus”, but Neville’s broom zigzagged as if it were alive and her
spell kept missing. 
The girls screamed as Neville was suddenly yanked off his broom by a lance from
a stone knight carved into the side of the castle near the roof. It pierced
Neville’s school robe. Hooch was able to swoop in and slow his fall just as
Neville plummeted about thirty feet to the ground. He hit hard, but not hard
enough to kill him. Everyone rushed over, Hermione falling to her knees next to
her foster brother. She gently held his head in her lap as he moaned in pain. 
“Out of the way!” Hooch called. She strode through them and knelt down,
tisking. “Broken wrist.”
“We have to take him to the hospital!” Hermione demanded, tears falling down
her cheeks.
“Alright, help me get him up.” Hooch grabbed one side, Hermione the other, and
they got Neville to his feet. “I will return after taking Mr. Longbottom to the
Infirmary. If any of you so much as touch your brooms while I’m gone, I’ll have
you out of the castle by nightfall,” she threatened them menacingly.
As soon as she was out of hearing range, the Slytherins began to laugh.
Theodore Nott bent down and picked up a round glass ball. Draco had seen
Neville put it in his pocket every morning and knew it must be important to
him.
“Give it here, Theodore,” he said calmly, stepping up to the thin boy. 
Draco knew him from the yearly balls Narcissa hosted. Theodore was a child from
a Sacred line, Pureblood for dozens upon dozens of generations. There were only
thirteen or so bloodlines remaining who qualified, much to Narcissa and
Lucius’s horror. 
Theodore narrowed his eyes with surprising anger. “Don’t call me that, Malfoy.
We’re not friends.”
Draco considered the other boy as the kids around them shouted this or that,
eager to watch a fight. “No. We aren’t,” he said quietly. “But are we enemies,
Nott?”
Theodore kicked off the ground, caring the glass ball with him. “I’m just going
to leave this for that fat-ass to find. The roof, maybe.” He laughed meanly.
As the Slytherins laughed with Nott, Draco sighed and kicked off. Harry
followed him up, much to Lavender and Parvati’s displeasure. 
“You’re going to get kicked out!” one said.
“You’ll fall!” cried the other.
“What’s your problem, Malfoy?” Nott spat. “You’re not the boss of me!”
“I just want the ball,” Draco countered, trying to be reasonable. “Give it
here.”
“You want it so bad, then go and get it!” the boy hissed furiously and threw it
with all his might.
Harry shot off after it. He moved so fast that the wind from his passing nearly
knocked Draco and Theodore off their brooms. 
Draco’s mounting annoyance over people fighting him for no real purpose that he
could see melt like ice under the hot sun as - exhilaration joy - speared
through the bond, practically piercing his heart.
Harry had never flown so fast. He gave a joyful whoop as the wind roared in his
ears and tugged at his clothes. Time seemed to slow and Harry kept his eyes
pinned to the glint of sunshine off the glass edge of his target. Purpose gave
him laser-like focus; Draco wants the ball.
The wall of the castle was rushing forward. Harry knew the ball would shatter
if it hit. He put on a burst of speed and reached forward. Snatching it out of
the air, he simultaneously leaned to the side and sat far back on the boom. The
broom did a sharp fishtail and came to a stop, the bristles kissing one of the
castle’s windows. 
- triumph pride - Harry flew back to Draco, holding Neville’s ball over his
head in victory. His hair was a windblown mess, his cheeks were red, and his
eyes were bright with adrenaline. 
The Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs practically mobbed him with cheers while the
Ravenclaws clapped, acknowledging Harry’s skill on the broom. Ron and Seamus
pounded on his back, exclaiming how bloody awesome he was, and Draco pressed in
close to his boy’s side.
“Good job,” he praised quietly, whispering in Harry’s ear as he took the
offered ball from the boy’s palm.
- joy love -
“Mr. Potter!” The shrill voice of Professor McGonagall silenced the group’s
exuberance instantly. “Come with me!” She stood at the side door to the castle
and looked as stern as ever. 
Harry stared at her with wide eyes, face gone suddenly pale. The words of
Professor Hooch resonated in his mind, I’ll have you out of the castle by
nightfall!
Draco took Harry’s hand, pocketing the glass ball. 
“Blimey,” Seamus muttered. “Got the worst luck!”
“Nah,” Ron countered with an eye roll. “Draco’s good at getting them outta
trouble.”
“Professor McGonagall,” Draco began politely once they reached the witch.
“I don’t recall asking you to join us, Mr. Malfoy,” she interrupted with an
arched eyebrow.
“I broke the same rules as Harry did,” Draco countered firmly. “If he’s going
to suffer punishment, then I will, too.”
For a moment it seemed as if McGongall would deny him, but then she smiled
warmly. “Truly a Gryffindor. Well, come on, then. I don’t suppose there’s any
harm in you joining us.”
Draco gave Harry a reassuring smile and squeezed the boy’s trembling hand.
Harry smiled back, his fear dissolving with relief. McGonagall wouldn’t have
smiled if she was going to kick them out. Still, she set a fast past and they
had to jog at times to keep up with her. 
Draco grew more intent when he realized they were headed to the Defense
classroom. McGonagall told them to wait outside, but he peeked his head around
to see Quirrell stuttering his lecture with his iguana in his arms and half the
class asleep. Draco nearly growled as he felt the faint ache of Harry’s scar
beginning to burn.
McGonagall returned with a Fifth-year Gryffindor and shut the classroom doors
behind her. The teen had short, light brown hair and dark brown eyes. He looked
down at Harry and Draco curiously.
“This is Oliver Wood,” McGonagall introduced quickly. She gave Oliver a smile.
“Wood, I found our new Seeker,” she said and clasped Harry’s shoulder.
Draco’s eyebrows lifted.
“Yeah?” Oliver gave Harry a more interested look. “Come to the Quidditch Pitch
tomorrow morning at six-thirty. I’ll give you a try.”
McGonagall looked pleased as punch. “Thank you, Wood. Now return to your class.
I’ll return Malfoy and Potter.”
“Quidditch is dangerous,” Draco pointed out as they walked at a more reasonable
pace back to their flying class.
“It is, but it’s not life threatening.” McGonagall waved away his concern. “It
teaches important life lessons, and we didn’t win a single game last year.
Haven’t won a single game since Charlie Weasley graduated.” She gave Harry a
happy look. “He played Seeker.” Her expression softened. “Your father was quite
exceptional, as well, although as a Chaser.”
Harry nodded, but most of his attention was on Draco, his eyes wide - curious
anticipation.
Draco sighed. * I’ll think about it, * he told him through the bond.
Harry was perfectly satisfied with that answer, content to wait for Draco’s
decision, but word spread quickly. At dinner, Harry congratulated by nearly the
entirety of the House. They even gave Draco happy smiles and included him in
the pre-celebration of Gryffindor’s future victories. It solidified Harry’s
desire to play. Keeping Gryffindor happy with them was his job and playing
Quidditch looked like the best way to do that. Of course, that put even more
pressure on him to win. Nerves settled in Harry’s gut, but he wasn’t deterred. 
Once they reached the common room, Draco pulled away from the rowdy crowd still
surrounding Harry. He found Percy and pulled him into a corner. “I need
Professor Quirrell’s class schedule and background information.”
Percy nodded his head, but he looked puzzled. “Why Quirrell?”
Draco expression turned fierce. “I don’t know yet, but I will. When can you
have it?”
“Tomorrow,” Percy answered quietly. Draco moved as if to join the others, but
Percy grabbed his sleeve. “Let me know what’s going on as soon as you can,
okay?”
Draco nodded, but he didn’t put much thought into it. He could handle this. He
pushed his way through the crowd and took Harry by the hand. “It’s getting
late. We still need to shower and we didn’t get much sleep last night. Don’t
forget we have to meet Wood in the morning.”
-surprise happy - 
Draco ignored the names shouted after him by the rest of the House for going to
bed early and headed to their dorm room. 
“You mean I can play?” Harry asked quietly once they were alone.
Draco turned and cupped Harry’s face in his hands, looking sternly into his
eyes. “The minute I think it’s too dangerous…”
“Yes, Draco!” Harry agreed happily and flung his arms around Draco’s neck.
“Thank you!”
Draco stroked his hair, smiling.
Harry pulled away to get their shower things ready and Draco’s mind returned to
Quirrell. With Harry playing Quidditch, Draco would have time to figure out
what was going on with their professor. 
A dangerous smile curled his lips, but he let the expression go when Harry
turned to look at him curiously. “It’s nothing,” he said, not wanting to worry
Harry about it. “Come on. Let’s get a shower.”
Chapter end.
A/N:Thank you so much for all the ideas! I couldn’t keep writing without you
guys.
 
***** Quidditch, Potions, Hagrid, and Blood *****
Quidditch, Potions, Hagrid, and Blood
Quidditch, it honestly baffled Draco. All this effort with Chasers trying to
get the quaffle through these little hoops guarded by a Keeper while also
dodging vicious Beaters hitting bludgers… and it didn’t matter a whit in the
end. It all came down to a one hundred and fifty point snitch. 
Draco had no idea why the other players tried as hard as they did since they
were essentially irrelevant. In his view, they should eliminate goals and the
other players completely. Quidditch was clearly all about the Seekers. And
Harry was a Seeker. So much pressure on that one crucial player. Draco would
have to keep a close watch. If it became too much, he would remove Harry from
the game - Gryffindor be damned. 
After explaining the rules, Wood asked Draco to fly against Harry, since he was
there, so that he could get a sense of Harry’s skills. “Not that I’m doubting
McGonagall!” It was a beautiful morning, perfect for flying, so Draco agreed.
The air was cool and crisp, the sun rising slowly over the mountain ridge. The
grass sparkled with dew.
“Ready, Harry?” Draco asked seriously. He looked into Harry’s eyes and ordered,
“Do your best.”
Harry gave a firm nod. 
When they had first started learning fencing from Narcissa, he’d been hesitant
to strike at Draco. But Draco had gotten angry and grabbed Harry by the shirt
and ordered him to try and beat him. Harry had obeyed.
It had been four years since then. Four years of study under a very skilled
teacher in Narcissa and they had grown quite good. 
They kicked off the ground at the same time, their broom soaring into the air.
The golden ball darted to the side and they shot after it like arrows, their
shoulders colliding together. Harry pushed against Draco before rolling under
him just as the snitch dove. Harry was in the lead now, rushing toward the
grass, the wind streaking past his outstretched hand… 
Draco swooped in at an angle, knocking Harry’s hand aside as he flew past. The
snitch zipping back into the sky. Harry almost flew off his broom as he flipped
tip to tail too quickly, just barely saving himself from a painful crash. He
rocketed into the sky, chasing the end of Draco’s broom and their golden
target.
Their hands darted in quick jabs and snatches as they spiraled around each
other. They moved instinctively with the broom underneath them, trusting it to
keep up. Harry came up from under Draco and knocked him sideways only for Draco
to come down on him from above like a swooping bird. Harry grunted with the
impact and dropped several feet.
His heart thundered in his chest. His thighs trembled, his hands shook. Sweat
blinded him and he blinked rapidly to clear his vision. Fatigue was setting in,
but he knew Draco had to be nearing his breaking point, too. He dove and then
arched back into the air like a shooting star, aiming for the snitch. Draco was
coming at it from above. They were going to collide.
“I need to get better, Harry!”Draco’s young voice from memory cried, full of
angry passion. “Come at me with everything you’ve got!”
Harry lay flat, milking the broom for every ounce of speed it possessed. He
reached out past the handle. He could almost reach… Draco racing closer! They
were about to crash… Harry’s closed around the ball a millisecond before
Draco’s and they slammed painfully together. The blond had opened his arms,
catching Harry and cushioning the impact as much as he could. Their brooms
locked together and they began to spiral down, dropping at terrifying speed. 
Draco grabbed tight to Harry’s broomstick, held even tighter to Harry’s body,
and leaned back. They decelerated too slowly, the ground rushed up. Draco
yelled, “Jump!”
They tumbled across the grass, panting for breath. Harry turned his head to
look at the blond, grinning. Draco gasped for air and slowly smiled, then he
began to laugh, Harry joining in until they were nearly crying. 
“Holy shit,” Draco panted. “That was crazy!”
Wood finally reached them, running across the pitch. Whooping, he jumped into
the air, his fist high over head as he pumped it. “That was incredible flying!”
he cried and helped the boys get back on their feet. He clapped Draco on the
shoulder a few times before turning to Harry with a huge smile. 
“Great catch, Potter! We’re not going to lose a game with you after the
snitch!” Looking back at Draco with a greedy gleam in his eye, he asked
enticingly, “Fancy being our reserve Seeker?”
Draco’s blond hair was a mess, almost as wild as Harry’s with grass tangled it
in from the tumble they’d taken upon landing. His cheeks were red and his eyes
shone with an inner light fueled by Harry’s - exhilaration. “I don’t want to
get behind in my studies,” he lied, still panting. He really wanted time to
stalk Quirrell.
“You won’t have to make every practice. Just one a week,” Wood negotiated. He
put his hands together and actually begged. “Say you’ll do it. Please?”
“I’ll think about it,” Draco allowed and Harry gave him a happy grin. Battling
over the snitch had been too fun.
…
Herbology was their first class of the day and was taken inside the greenhouses
built on the east side of the castle. Two rows of tables were set end to end so
that the students were in two lines. Their professor, a short, chubby witch
with grey curly hair and a cheerful disposition told them excitedly about the
things they would learn. 
Draco paid her only half of his attention. He’d made sure to take the table
next to Hermione and Neville. Last night, Neville and told them that the healer
was able to heal his broken wrist, but from the way he moved Draco had been
able to tell it still ached. 
Draco’s worry was misplaced, however, because Hermione made sure Neville didn’t
do anything that would strain the injury. Hermione was abrupt and bossy, but
she took care of Neville and it was clear the boy appreciated it. She gave
Draco a confused look when he smiled at her after class. 
History of Magic turned out to be a surprise. They were being taught by
Professor Binns, an actual ghost. Draco was impressed. To have access to a
first-hand account of history was really amazing. The only problem was that
listening to the voice of a ghost for long periods was difficult and tended to
put them to sleep. Draco made a note for Harry to find a spell or remedy that
would help them stay focused. 
Lunch arrived and again Quirrell didn’t show. Draco considered checking it out,
but he didn’t want to be too obvious. He’d wait for Percy to get him some
information first. It worked out anyway because halfway through the meal Hedwig
swooped in on graceful, silent wings to deliver them a letter.
“Who’s it from?” Ron asked, mouth full of sandwich. 
“Hagrid,” Harry told him with a smile. “It’s an invite to tea tomorrow. He
heard we had a free period after lunch. Can we go?” he asked, turning to Draco.
“Sure.” Draco ruffled the boy’s hair. The soft-hearted man was always a good
source of information and Draco was curious why Hagrid wanted to speak to
them. 
…
After lunch, they had Charms Theory and Magical Theory with the Ravenclaws.
Already classes were challenging. In Charms, they had to memorize the seventeen
fundamental wand movements and be able to perform them perfectly by next week.
In Magical Theory, they had to take notes on the six main aspects of magic.
They were to do further research for homework and write an informative essay. 
Professor Sophos, a witch in her sixties with wildly curly, silver-streaked
black hair and a greek accent, had oh so kindly given them an essay formula to
follow. The formula itself was a challenge, let alone the essay topic!
Introduction consisting of hook, background, and thesis. Body paragraphs
consisting of transition, facts, sources, and analysis. Finally, a conclusion
paragraph with transition, summary, and a restating of the now validated
thesis. 
Draco had to admit it was overwhelming. He looked at the loose parchment they
had folded and tucked into their bags with their class notes and frowned.
“We need notebooks,” Harry said softly, guessing what Draco wanted. “It’ll be
easier to stay organized.”
“We’ll need at least a dozen of them,” Draco agreed, hooking his bangs back
behind his ears as he looked up at Harry. “We’ll add it to Remus’s letter. He
can get us what we need.”
On their way back up to the tower from dinner, Percy snagged Draco’s sleeve. 
At Draco’s signal, Harry turned to Ron with a distraction. “Did you bring your
Wizarding Chess set?”
Ron perked up. “Yeah. Why?”
“I’d like to try again,” Harry told him, making a determined face.
Ron grinned excitedly. “I’ll go get it.”
“How’s Wizarding Chess different from the Muggle kind?” Hermione asked
curiously.
“The rules aren’t different,” Neville assured her.
“But I bet Muggle Chess doesn’t bash each other in,” Seamus said excitedly.
Draco and Percy had slipped away from the group unnoticed a floor below the
Gryffindor portrait. There was a room that was used mostly for the random
couple who wanted to snog and sometimes studying away from the loud common
room, but tonight it stood empty. Draco hopped up onto the desk positioned by a
window. 
Percy pulled the desk chair out and sat in front of him. Draco propped his feet
up on the side of the seat, caging Percy’s thighs in between his Converse.
Percy handed him a parchment. Draco unfolded it and pressed it open on his lap.
“His class schedule as well as the location of his personal chambers,” Percy
explained. “Apparently he had a run in with some vampires and barely survived
before taking the position here. He’s paranoid and scared of his own shadow. I
can’t really see him as a threat. Not to mention the curse on the Defense
position. For decades Defense teachers have only lasted a year here. Something
always makes them go. There’s already bets among the upper years that Quirrell
won’t make it past Yule. That vampires will come and get him.”
Draco nodded absently, his attention on the map.
“What exactly do you think he’s up to?” Percy asked curiously.
“I don’t know.” Draco looked up and met the teen’s concerned brown eyes. “Keep
your ears open for any rumors.”
Percy pushed his glasses up his nose, confused by the boy’s insistence. “He
really does seem useless.”
Draco said nothing to that, his attention back on the schedule and map the
redhead had given him.
Percy sighed, changing the subject. “Silvanus Rahl and his gang are still
muttering about you being in Gryffindor. The twins have a prank lined up, but
there’s no telling how they’ll take it. They hate all things Slytherin, Rahl
especially. Lost his father, grandfather, and uncle to Death Eaters. His dorm
mates follows his every word. Be careful. They can be dangerous.” 
Draco nodded. “Thanks for the heads up. Who should I look out for?
“Rahl’s the one who had you up against the wall. His second in command is
Fergus Dougal, dark red hair, pale. They room with Abdul Virk, Archibald Mago,
and Eric Greythorne and they are more like lackeys. They’re all Sixth years and
want to be some big shot Aurors when they graduate. They’re the best duelers in
the House.”
“I’ll be careful,” Draco promised. 
“I’ll help as much as I can, but I have a feeling Rahl has something personal
against the Malfoys. He’ll be a hard one to stop.” Percy ran a hand through his
short curly hair. “Good news is next year is his last.” 
Draco smiled wryly. A lot could happen in two years. “Good news,” he echoed.
Percy lifted Draco’s foot and slid out from under it before placing it back on
the seat. “I’ll head back. Wait a few minutes and then come after me.”
“How’s your girl?” Draco asked curiously. “Your snake didn’t hurt her?”
The teen flushed red. “No. It was fine,” Percy answered shyly and slipped out
of the room.
Draco grinned.
…
The next morning was Saturday. They got dressed quickly and went up to the
Owlery. Harry pet and stroked Hedwig's spotted white feathers for several
minutes before tying the letters they had written to her leg. Hedwig took off
silently into the dawn and the boys tucked themselves up on a window ledge to
work some more on Pandora’s notes. 
No one would bother them up here so early in the morning and the break was
sorely needed. Draco especially was struggling with the constant and abrasive
multitude always surrounding them, always watching, moving in ways that Draco
couldn’t always predict or control. It put a lot more stress on him than he
anticipated. 
He’d gone from the Hold, which was an extremely controlled environment, to Liam
- where Draco was given a lot of control and privacy - to the Malfoys, who were
almost as controlled and rigid as the Hold. The Tonks were a bit more flexible
and chaotic, but even they were pretty self-contained. They didn’t socialize
with others much (except for with the Weasleys and on holidays) and mostly let
the boys do as they wished as long as they had supervision. 
Harry was aware of the tension. He sat across from Draco in the same window,
their legs brushing. He reached forward and gently touched Draco’s knee.
“Please?”
Draco looked up from the notes, distracted and frowning. “What?”
Harry lowered his head submissively, hands folded in his lap. “Please?” he
asked again, softly.
Draco smiled, his shoulders relaxing as - devotion compassion - pulsed warmly
through the bond. “Yes,” he said and turned so that he was sitting in the
middle of the window, his back to Harry. He crooked one leg to set Pandora’s
notes on top and set his other foot on the ground for balance. 
Harry slid his fingers into Draco’s hair and caressed the blond’s scalp.
Closing his eyes on a sigh,  Harry gently pressed his thumbs into Draco’s neck.
The warmth from his core trickled up and soaked into Draco’s skin and muscle.
Draco sighed in pleasure and began to read out loud so Harry could follow
along. Soft groans escaped him every other sentence, making Harry smile, happy
he was making Draco feel good. Draco took notes on what he thought a passage
meant, adding Harry’s ideas. Harry’s hands continued to knead and press all the
tension from Draco’s back and shoulders.
… 
They walked into breakfast a little late, just as Rahl and his gang were
storming out. Their hair had been turned into huge coarse balls of red and gold
cotton and on the back of their robes in huge gold lettering it read, I’m a
Gryffindor Bully. 
Rahl’s blue eyes were bright with fury when he spotted Draco and Harry. He was
still within sight of the Great Hall doors, so he couldn’t do much, but he did
bump Draco’s shoulder hard enough to make the boy stagger. 
“Out of my way, you fucking snake,” he hissed in a low, threatening voice.
Draco stared after them, eyes cold.
Harry pulled him forward by the hand Draco held. “Breakfast is over soon,” he
said softly - concerned.
Draco silently followed Harry to their table that had become a weird mesh of
First and Third years. All the First year boys, plus Hermione, and then the
Third year twins and their best friends Lee Jordan, Angelina Johnson, and
Alicia Spinnet. The twins were beaming triumphantly and the rest of the group
was snickering and laughing. Only Hermione seemed to disapprove while Neville
looked nervous.
Draco and Harry took their spot between the twins and Hermione and Neville.
Dean, Seamus, and Ron sat across from them with Lee and the girls across from
the twins.
“Not sure that’s going to make him back off,” Draco admitted as he served
himself some eggs.
“If they don’t learn their lesson,” George began. 
Fred grinned evilly. “The pranks will only get worse.”
…
“Blood-traitor,” Nott hissed hatefully as Draco entered the Potions’
classroom. 
Draco decided to ignore him. Instead, he took notice of the single station that
had been placed at the front of the classroom on the Gryffindor’s side of the
room. Draco hefted his bag higher on his shoulder and pushed Harry toward Ron.
Harry knew better than to argue, especially with the mood Draco was in. 
Draco made his way down the aisle and stopped at the single desk. Hermione and
Neville sat behind him and Neville gave him a worried look. Draco left it to
Hermione to reassure him.
Today was their scheduled potions practical and Draco began to set up his
cauldron and equipment with the rest of the class. He’d just finished when
Snape stormed in, slammed the classroom door behind him with a loud bang that
made everyone jump, and took up a position by the blackboard. He looked
furious. 
“On the board you will see instructions for brewing the most basic of potions,
the Boil Cure.” Snape’s dark eyes raked the class. “It can also be found in
your textbooks on page thirty-three. Begin.”
Draco’s eyes widened fractionally. This was only their second Potions class.
Was that really all the instruction they’d be given? He scowled and looked at
the board as Harry’s - anxiety - scratched at him.
In almost indecipherable calligraphy, the board read: Add crushed snake fangs
to your cauldron and stir. Slice your Pungous Onions finely and place in the
cauldron, then heat the mixture. Add dried nettles. Add a dash of Flobberworm
mucus and stir vigorously. Add a sprinkle of powdered ginger root and stir
vigorously again. Add picked Shrake spines. Stir gently so as not to overexcite
the Shrake spines. Add a glug of stewed horned slugs. Add porcupine quills.
Finally, wave your wand over the cauldron to finish the potion.
Draco opened his textbook. The recipe on page thirty-three was slightly longer
with more detail. His glare deepened. Which were they supposed to follow?
“Sir…” Hermione’s voice drew Draco’s attention and he looked up to see that the
girl had her hand in the air.
“If I wished to speak to you, Miss Pleasant, I would have called on you. Now
begin. If I have to tell you again, I will be taking points.” Snape’s cold,
disdainful voice was cutting.
“I noticed the recipe on the board…” Hermione continued hesitantly.
“Ten points from Gryffindor,” Snape drawled, staring her down.
Lavender and Parvati, sitting behind Hermione and Neville, hissed at her to be
quiet.
Draco gave Snape a disgusted look. He pointedly chose to use the book recipe
instead of Snape’s, not trusting that bastard for a second. 
Snape stalked the Gryffindor side of the room, breathing down their necks,
making them nervous. He bit out sarcastic comments like, “You call that a fine
powder, Mr. Finnegan?” “So skilled are we, Potter, that you don’t have to check
the exact temperature of your flames?” “You do have a timer in your kit, Miss
Brown, do you not?” “Silence, Miss Pleasant, no talking in my class if don’t
want your mouth magical sewn shut!”
They were almost done, only ten minutes to go, when Hermione cried out, “Wait,
Neville!”
Draco turned to face them, his eyes widening as his startled roommate dropped
the porcupine quills into a cauldron that still sat on the flame. 
The explosion knocked Hermione and Neville back into Lavender and Parvati’s
table, making their cauldron clatter to the floor, splashing their ankles with
boiling hot potion. Draco was flung back into his own cauldron and it tipped
forward, spilling all down his back.
Pain whited everything out. He locked his teeth, grunting, as he crawled
blindly forward only to hold himself rigidly still, exerting all his self-
control to clamp down on useless instinct. There would be no escaping the
searing pain. There was no point in trying to flee. He had to be still and
endure. 
“You stupid boy!” Snape bellowed. 
Kneeling next to Draco, he took in the smoking school robes of Draco’s hunched
back and internally winced. He had no idea how the boy wasn’t screaming or
unconscious. A quick swish of his wand vanished the robe, shirt, and tie. Red
and angrily blistering skin covered Draco’s shoulders and down his spine, but
it did nothing to conceal the most horrific scarring Snape had ever seen. 
Hermione gasped, her hands covering her mouth in horror. 
Draco trembled, on his hands and knees, his head hanging with his white-blond
hair curtaining his face, but Snape could see the pain-tensed jaw of gritted
teeth. 
“Bottle your potions, clean up your stations, and GET OUT!” Snape screamed.
Harry and Ron had appeared at Draco’s side. “You two! Get him out of here!
Straight to the Infirmary! Brown, Patil, cease your caterwauling and go with
them!”
Ron and Harry didn’t have to be told twice. They each got underneath one of
Draco’s arms and helped him to his feet. Lavender and Parvati held hands,
leaning on each other as they limped after the boys, crying in pain over their
burnt ankles.
Draco hissed as they started climbing the stairs, head hanging, clearly in
agony. Ron looked pale as a ghost, the smell of potion and burnt skin mixing in
his nose. “Bloody hell,” he whispered.
…
Ron and Harry were forced to wait in the waiting room, but Lavender and Parvati
were admitted into the Infirmary with Draco. Later that night the girls
returned to the tower and told tales of gruesomely burnt skin that had been
hardened and peeled from Draco’s back. Draco hadn’t screamed once and stayed
conscious for the entire treatment. The story spread like fire.
…
Ron and Harry missed Herbology and lunch as they sat quietly outside the
Infirmary. Healer Pomfrey finally let them come and see their friend, but she
was visibly disapproving and told them that their visit would be short: “Sleep
is essential for healing, but he insists on seeing you, Mr. Potter.” Harry
barely heard her. He rushed forward, desperate to be back where he belonged. At
Draco’s side. 
Harry knelt on the floor by the bed so that Draco, who’d been placed on his
stomach, could see him without straining his neck. Ron hung back, staring at
the white bandages that covered Draco from shoulders to waist. At least that
terrible scarring was covered.
“Draco…” Harry breathed - love concern - pouring down the bond.
Grey eyes blinked at him and he gave a smile. “Harry. I’m okay. Pomfrey said
I’ll be outta here by breakfast tomorrow.”
Harry tearfully held his hand. “Please?”
“No,” Draco refused him gently. “No. I’m fine. Maybe get sympathy points.”
Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat. “Alright, boys. Time to go. Mr. Malfoy needs
his rest,” she insisted.
Harry looked up at her in confusion. “Go?”
The potion Draco had been fighting was going to win the battle and pull him
under soon. It made him crazy to know Harry would be out of his sight for a
whole afternoon and night, but the fucking nurse made it clear his boy wouldn’t
be allowed to stay. Fuck. 
Doing his best to focus, he looked into Harry’s distressed eyes. “Meet Hagrid.
Tell me what he has to say,” he ordered softly, eyes closing. “Stay away from
Quirrell. You get a headache, you go the other way ’til it’s gone. Hard rule.”
A sliver of grey could be seen between long blond lashes. “Harry, stay with the
Weasleys. Never… be alone…” The grey disappeared, Draco’s eyes closing as he
slipped into a potioned sleep.
“Yes, Draco,” Harry whispered, holding tight to Draco’s hand.
“The boy needs undisturbed rest,” Pomfrey scolded softly. “Off with you now.
You’ll see your friend in the morning perfectly recovered. There’s no need for
all this fuss.” 
Ron felt a pang as Harry’s head hung and his shoulders hunched. He knew how
upset Harry must be. Ron had rarely ever seen them separated for more than a
few minutes at a time. It was a strange concept. They were like a packaged
deal. Like Fred and George. In fact, he was having a hard time picturing Harry
getting up and leaving Draco’s side, orders be damned, and he braced himself to
pull his friend away, but Harry did. He got to his feet and gave Ron a smile
that trembled a bit at the edges. 
“Will you come with me to see Hagrid?” he asked quietly, clearly trying to be
brave.
“Yeah,” Ron answered, chest tight. “Course I will.” 
He offered his hand, blushing, but he knew he’d done the right thing when Harry
gave him a truly grateful smile as he took it. Silently, Ron promised the
unconscious blond that he wouldn’t let anything happen to Harry. For one, Harry
was his friend. For two, he didn’t want to die.
…
Hagrid’s hut was down the side of the hill that Hogwarts sat atop. It was about
a ten minute walk, so it wasn’t a short distance. The hut sat just outside the
Dark Forest, the shadow of the tall, ominous trees falling over them, but it
had an incredible view of the lake. 
A dog began barking as soon as they knocked on the door. Deep bass barks that
made Harry and Ron step way back from the door. Hagrid shouted something and
then the door was opening and Hagrid was beaming joyfully at them.
“Arry! Who’s that ya got with ya?” Hagrid stood in the doorway beaming happily.
“Down, Fang!” A big black mastiff with hanging cheeks and drool was wagging his
tail and trying to push past Hagrid’s big legs to get at the boys. “Tha’s Fang.
He wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Hagrid promised.
“This is Ron Weasley,” Harry introduced. “He’s in Gryffindor with Draco and me.
Ron, this is Hagrid. I met him on Diagon when I got my school supplies. He’s
the one who gave me Hedwig for my birthday.”
“Cool,” Ron said politely, but his attention was still on the huge dog.
“Well, nice ta meet ya,” Hagrid boomed. “Any friend of ‘Arry's is a friend of
mine. Come in, come in!” As the boys stepped in and fended off the overly
friendly, slobbery Fang, Hagrid gestured to the table. “I made tea and cakes.”
The boys hopped up on two large stools while Hagrid plopped down across from
them, still smiling happily. Ron and Harry shared a glance as Hagrid placed
cakes down in front of them with loud thunks. He also gave them small cauldrons
of tea. Ron giggled.
“I wan’ned to congratulate you on Gryffindor,” Hagrid boomed happily. “I was
Gryffindor when I was in school. It’s the best House if ya don’t mind me
sayin’.”
“You were?” Harry asked and tried to figure out how to eat the cake that was
about the size of his head.
Ron leaned close. “Maybe we shouldn’t eat it.”
Harry elbowed him gently. “Hagrid, can you break this into smaller pieces for
me?”
“Course, I can! ‘Ere, let me.” He got out a huge hunting knife and whacked the
cake into fist size chunks. 
Harry thanked him and dunked it in his cauldron of tea, hoping to soften it up.
“What’s this?” Ron grabbed a Daily Prophet from the floor, desperate for
anything as a distraction so he wouldn’t have to eat the cake. It was dated a
few days ago and had a theft from Gringotts on the front page. “Someone broke
in to Gringotts? That’s impossible!”
Hagrid became nervous. “Tha’s nothing. Just kindlin’ for my fire.”
Harry looked over Ron’s shoulder to read the article as the redhead insisted,
“No one’s ever broken into Gringotts before and gotten away, have they?”
“Why would they break into an empty vault?” Harry asked and suddenly remembered
Hagrid saying Dumbledore had asked him to get something from Gringotts.
Something important. “This happened the night of my birthday. The day we met,”
he added, looking up.
Hagrid cleared his throat and took the paper from Ron. “How’re ya liking
Hogwarts, ‘Arry?”
Ron looked startled as the paper disappeared from his hands.
Harry stared at their host curiously, but he answered, “I like it. Classes are
really interesting.”
“Draco’s having some trouble,” Ron informed him. “Some Gryffindors don’t trust
him because he’s a Malfoy.”
“Where is Draco?” Hagrid looked toward the door as if the boy would walk in any
moment.
“He’s in the Infirmary,” Ron answered when he realized Harry wouldn’t. At
Hagrid’s shocked look, he clarified, “He wasn’t attacked or nothing. Just a
potions accident.”
“Well.” Hagrid reached forward to put his large hand gently on Harry’s head.
“You tell Draco not to think on it. People are always hatin’ somethin’. Pay it
no mind and hold yer heads high.”
“I’ll tell him,” Harry promised and fished his cake out of his tea. It was
still hard, but he was able to bite off a piece. Ron watched him with
fascinated horror. “Mmm. It’s good,” Harry complimented.
Hagrid smiled happily. “I’ll give ya some ta take back to Draco. It might make
‘em feel better.”
“That’d be great. Thanks, Hagird.”
Ron giggled again and whispered, “More like finish him off, you mean.”
Harry elbowed him again.
Hagrid showed them around his house and pumpkin patch. He even showed them a
few feet into the Dark Forest. He talked cheerfully about all the creatures who
lived there, most of them making Ron’s eyes big. 
…
McGonagall gave them a stern look as they arrived to her class out of breath,
but she started her lesson without taking points. Harry paid extra attention
and took very detailed notes to be sure Draco didn’t miss anything.
“Think you wrote enough down?” Ron asked him wryly. Harry had filled an entire
parchment and the class had been their practical!
“I think so,” Harry answered unsurely, not sure if he had.
Ron laughed and flung an arm around his shoulders. “Let’s head to dinner. I’m
starved.”
They talking about Hagrid and the forest when, one floor above the entrance
hall, something shoved Harry from behind. 
Harry flew forward with frightening force. His shoulder clipped Dean’s and
flung him into Seamus, both boys hitting the wall hard. Ron grabbed for Harry’s
robe, but he wasn’t quick enough. Harry hit the stairs with a terrible impact
and then tumbled. 
It almost seemed to happen in slow motion and too quick to remember at the same
time. Ron ran down to where Harry was sprawled, blood spilling in a growing
pool around his head. Ron dropped to his knees. He was screaming. So were the
girls. Dean and Seamus were still getting their feet back under them. Ron
looked up. 
Leaning over the second floor railing was a smirking Slytherin. Ron screamed,
this time in rage. He jumped to his feet, but the boy disappeared as a crowd of
students on the way to dinner rushed to look over the railing to see what was
going on. 
Suddenly, McGonagall was there, grabbing him by the shoulders. “What happened
here, Mr. Weasley?” Other professors were trying to get everyone who’d rushed
out of the Great Hall to move back. Dumbledore was levitating Harry, rushing
him to the Infirmary.
Shaking, Ron looked into McGonagall’s eyes and said, “Draco’s gonna kill me,”
before bursting into tears.
…
Draco felt - TERROR - scream along the bond, followed by bright flashes of
pain, and then ominous silence.* Harry! * his mind cried out, but there was no
answer. Anxious, angry, Draco pushed through the layers of darkness swaddling
him, trying to breach the surface. His arms and legs felt heavy and floating at
the same time as he churned them uselessly, trying to move. 
He hit the floor, but it almost felt like it was happening to someone else. He
couldn’t barely feel it. The shock was enough to get his eyes to crack open at
last, however. Bright light stabbed into his brain, rendering him just as blind
as before. Snarling, he slapped his hands onto the floor in front of him and
pulled himself across the cold tile. 
* Harry! *Spots dipped and swayed as some focus returned to him. Undulating
walls, a gooey floor that waved gently up and down… He grit his teeth and
pulled himself another foot forward. * Answer me, Harry! *Draco’s heart beat
sluggishly, but it should have been racing. Terror clawed at his insides. *
Harry, where are you? Harry! *
“Mr. Malfoy, please return…” Pomfrey was saying as she stepped into the
Infirmary proper only to gasp upon seeing the boy dragging himself semi-
conscious across he floor. “Mr. Malfoy!” she cried and rushed to his side. 
The boy was dripping with sweat and panting. She turned him onto his back and
he shoved weakly at her, his face twisted with fear. 
“Mr. Malfoy… Draco… It’s just a dream, child. Come now. Back to bed.”
“Harry…” he moaned, tears welling in his eyes. “Harry…”
Pomfrey frowned. “Come now.” She sat him up. The boy trembled in her arms.
“Everything is alright.”
Draco pushed at her with surprising strength. “Get away from me,” he hissed
lowly. 
Pomfrey watched shocked, her hands up over her mouth, as the boy pulled himself
up on all fours and crawled his way to the nearest bed. 
Draco couldn’t feel his hands, but that didn’t fucking matter. All that
mattered was Harry. His boy needed him. * Harry, answer me right fucking now!
*He pulled himself to his feet and swayed drunkenly only to collapse after two
steps.
“You’re doing yourself injury!” she cried and gently putting a supportive arm
around his shoulders. “I must insist you come to bed this instant. It was just
a dream. Mr. Potter is fine, I assure you.”
The doors swung open and Dumbledore strode into the room. Pomfrey gasped and
Draco knew the form floating behind the old wizard was Harry. A little of his
fear left him. Harry was here. Draco had him. 
“Set him on the bed,” Pomfrey was saying as if from a long distance, voice
urgent and distressed. “What happened?”
“He fell down the stairs I’m afraid,” Dumbledore answered.
“Pushed…” Draco said hoarsely. Something cold and dangerous coiled in his gut.
He watched through unblinking blurry eyes as a red stain soaked into the white
sheets under Harry’s head. The bed dipped, causing ripples of shadow to
overtake his vision, but Draco refused to look away. Harry needed him. 
Dumbledore spoke from right next to him. “How do you know, my boy?”
“Know…” Draco insisted, slurring, but he didn’t fucking care if Dumbledore
believed him or not. Draco knew the truth. His hands curled into dangerous
fists. 
“What has he told you?” Dumbledore suddenly asked.
McGonagall’s voice answered, “He believes a Slytherin used a spell to push
Harry. However, he didn’t actually see the boy cast a spell. It could be that
the boy was smiling simply because he thought it amusing that Harry fell.”
“He didn’t just fall.He went flying forward, Professor!” Ron’s voice protested
hotly. It was thick and sounded as if he had been crying. 
Draco’s eyes narrowed and he held tightly to the knowledge that Ron knew who’d
done this to Harry. 
“Draco… I’m sorry…” This time Ron sounded small and afraid, but Draco had no
time for that. All his attention was on Harry and the healer chanting over
him. 
“Draco also reports that Harry was pushed,” Dumbledore continued. “He must have
felt something through their bond.”
“We must get to the bottom of this,” was McGonagall’s quiet response.
“Yes,” Dumbledore answered and the old man put a supportive hand on Draco’s
shoulder. 
“Don’t touch me,” Draco said coldly, not once moving his eyes from Harry’s pale
face.
Dumbledore’s hand left him and there was silence in the room after that. 
Chapter end.
***** Recovery *****
Recovery
They waited an hour for Healer Pomfrey to finish treating Harry. In the end, he
was placed under seven healing spells and was fed two potions: one for
inflammation and another to heal broken bones. Promfrey stepped back exhausted
and Dumbledore gently guided her to a chair. 
“He’ll likely have some memory loss that could span a couple hours up to a full
day before the fall,” she reported. “Otherwise, he’ll have a full recovery.”
Looking up at the headmaster, she said gravely, “It was a nasty fall, Albus.
The poor boy suffered a skull fracture, brain swelling, blood loss, a
dislocated shoulder, and severe contusions along his back and hips.”
“Rest a minute, Poppy,” Dumbledore encouraged and looked up at McGonagall.
“Please move the beds together so that the boys can sleep in peace. Mr.
Weasley, I’m going to have to ask you to come with me to identify the boy you
saw on the stairs. Poppy, contact Draco and Harry’s guardians when you’ve
recovered, if you would.”
Voices warped in and out of focus and things seemed to be vibrating strangely,
but all Draco cared about was the gentle heat from Harry’s body and the feeling
of his boy’s chest rising and falling. As McGonagall guided him to lie flat and
joined his bed to Harry’s, he flung a protective arm over Harry’s chest. His
eyes closed and he finally let go of the excruciating hold he’d maintained on
consciousness, giving in to the power of the sleeping potion at last.
…
Ron was brought to the Slytherin common room where the students were forced to
line up as Dumbledore and Snape watched. The cold glares of all those hateful
eyes made Ron break out in a sweat, but he boldly lifted his chin and pointed
to Third-year Adrian Pucey. 
“It was him!”
Snape coldly ordered the Slytherins to go to their dorm rooms and remain there
until further notice before sweeping out of the room with Adrian Pucey’s arm in
his grasp. Dumbledore guided Ron more gently and the four of them made their
way to the Headmaster’s office. 
Pucey scowled and looked offended, claiming innocence. His wand only showed
those spells they were practicing in class and no one actually saw him cast a
spell at Harry. Ron went red in the face as a slow smirk curled the Pucey’s
lips, but there was nothing Dumbledore could do.
Pucey was a student as much as Harry, and it was their job to act in his best
interest. With no evidence, even circumstantial evidence, against him,
Dumbledore’s hands were tied. All he could do was warn the boy quite seriously
of the consequences of injuring another student while at Hogwarts and dismissed
Pucey into Snape’s care. 
Dumbledore gazed at the red-faced boy left standing angrily in front of his
desk. “The truth will win out, young man. Until then we cannot act without
proof.” 
Ron stared mutinously back at the Headmaster in silence. 
Dumbledore sighed sadly. “You will be held responsible for any retaliation you
take,” he warned. “I can’t imagine how that would help your friends.”
“Yes, sir,” Ron answered stiffly. “May I go?”
Dumbledore inclined his head and the boy practically fled his office.
…
As soon as they were in the dungeons and out of sight, Snape spun on his heel.
He grabbed a hold of Pucey’s robe and shoved him against the wall. Black eyes
glittering with malice, voice dripping with disgust, he said in a low,
compelling voice, “You did well to escape punishment this time, Mr. Pucey, but
that is only due to the fact that Potter was not killed. Had the boy died, you
would have been put under a more… vigorous… investigation. Shame would have
been brought to your name, to my House, and you would have been placed in
Azkaban, forever doomed to suffer unimaginable torment.”
Pucey looked up at his Head of House, face blanched with fear. His fingers
ached as they clutched at the wall he was being held against. “I d-didn’t…” he
stuttered weakly.  
“Do not attempt to fool me,” Snape snarled, his face less than an inch from the
teenager’s. “Let me give you some… advice.” He tightened his hand in the boy’s
robe, nearly choking him. “Do not commit murder while at Hogwarts. Do not
underestimate the power that destroyed one Dark Lord and precipitated the down
fall of another. Dumbledore will act regretful, but he will destroy you all the
same if anything were to befall his precious Boy Hero.” 
Pucey whimpered, legs trembling.
Snape released the boy with a shove and Pucey cowered against the wall. With a
louder voice, he spat with dark fury, “Fifty points from Slytherin, Mr. Pucey,
for acting with Gryffindor shortsightedness.”
Pucey grew impossibly paler.
“Get out of my sight this instant,” Snape hissed, cold as ice.
The dark-haired teen fled.
…
Narcissa conjured a chair and placed it next to Draco and Harry’s hospital bed.
She gently stroked her son’s soft hair off of his face. He was practically
curled around Harry, and she frowned at how still and slack both of the boys’
faces were. They weren’t merely sleeping. They were unconscious. Four days into
school and they were already in the Infirmary with critical injuries. She
didn’t like it at all. 
“I want to bring them home,” she said lowly. She looked over her shoulder and
pierced her husband with coldly angry eyes.
Lucius placed a hand on her shoulder and gently squeezed. They had not repaired
their relationship, but the anger and hurt between them had to wait. Their
children were in trouble. “I’ll go speak to the headmaster.”
“I want assurances or they are coming home,” she said with finality.
Lucius gave her a little bow before turning on his heel and striding from the
room. On the way out, he passed Andromeda and Ted as they arrived. Little
Denebola was asleep on Andromeda’s shoulder. Lucius did not acknowledge them in
any way and continued on. Harry’s guardian or not, the woman was still a blood
traitor.
Ted conjured a chair for Andromeda and she sat across from her sister on
Harry’s side of the bed. This was the first time Narcissa had met Denebola. The
child lay curled in the nook of Andromeda’s arm sound asleep and Narcissa felt
an old pang of remorse. She didn’t dwell on it long, however, too concerned for
Draco and Harry.
… 
Dumbledore sat behind his desk and considered the furious man in front of him.
Lucius was not satisfied in the least with the school's dead-end investigation,
and he was down right furious when Dumbledore refused to release the name of
the student accused of the crime. The child had rights, and his parents would
hold Hogwarts and Dumbledore responsible if those rights were violated. 
“If you cannot assure me of my children’s safety while attending this school,
Dumbledore, I will pull them out,” Lucius threatened. “And I will make it very
clear that it was due to my concern for their safety within these walls. How
will other parents react? How will the Ministry?”
Dumbledore understood the man’s anger. He truly he did. “I will have the ghosts
patrol the hallways between periods, more power will be allotted to the
paintings so they can serve as witnesses, and I’ve been assured by the Heads of
each House that they will take steps to better monitor their students. We will
keep the boys safe, I assure you.”
Lucius was not pleased. He gave the old man a cold look down his aristocratic
nose. “I will interview each House Head. If I am unsatisfied with the measures
they plan to take to ensure the students’ saftey…”  He paused to snap up his
cane into his fist. “We’ll talk again, Headmaster,” he coldly threatened.
…
Severus opened the door to his personal chambers as he heard a knock.“Mr.
Malfoy, ” he greeted and carefully blanked his expression.
Grey eyes stared at him with predatory intent. “Professor Snape.” Lucius gave a
sharp smile full of teeth. “I have need to speak with you once more.”
Severus opened his door wider, steeling himself.
Lucius strode into the room and seated himself in an armchair placed at an
angle to the fireplace as if he owned the room and it was Severus who was the
guest. 
Severus very carefully chose to show just enough annoyance that Lucius would
think he was trying to hide it. When Lucius gave him a knowing, superior smirk,
Severus scowled as if further annoyed that Lucius could see through him.
Severus crossed his arms, as if defensive, and hid behind a curtain of oily
black hair. 
“We both know why I am here.” Lucius’s voice was silky sweet and dripping with
threat. He leaned forward, his long blond hair sliding over one shoulder to
fall gracefully over his chest as he braced his hands on the cane planted
firmly on the carpet in front of him. “I want to know, Snape, what steps you
are going to take to ensure my ward never again comes to harm by one of your
House. I also want a very detailed explanation on how my son could incur such a
serious injury while attending your class.”
“Your son was injured when the student behind him made the most basic mistake
of adding quills to the Boil Cure potion whilst still on the flame,” Severus
recited with absolutely no inflection. “Potions accidents do occur, especially
so early in their education. Mr. Malfoy’s clothes were banished within seconds
of the potion spilling and he was taken directly to the Infirmary where he
received excellent care. I have been informed that by breakfast tomorrow he
will be completely recovered.”
Lucius gave a silky smooth, close-mouthed smile. Almost gently, he said, “I
believe you mean ‘recovered with minimal scarring’.”
Inside, Severus winced, the comment purposefully bringing to mind the child’s
horrific scars. On the outside, he maintained a stoic mask.
Lucius stared at him with the eyes of a patient leopard. “And your plan to
control your House concerning my ward?”
“I have… spoken… with the boy suspected of the act and I assure you that…”
Lucius stood abruptly. Tired of playing with his prey. “I want the child’s
name.” It was a demand, but when Severus simply stared mutely, Lucius added
impatiently, “Do not concern yourself. The child is safe from me.” Grey eyes
brightened, hinting at silver. “For now. I merely want to have a discussion of
my own with his parents. I will be discrete, of course.”
“… Adrian Pucey.” There was no point in hiding it. Lucius would find out one
way or another. If Severus resisted, he would incur Lucius’s sadistic revenge
and no longer hold the man’s tentative trust.
With surprising speed, Lucius grabbed Severus’s left forearm with brutal force.
“Be careful, Severus. If I think for a moment you’re moving against Harry, I
will destroy you,” he hissed in a dangerous whisper.
Severus yanked free, heart beating hard and fast. With glittering, dark eyes,
he spat, “And should that day ever come, you’d be standing right beside me
wearing a mask, Lucius.”
Lucius grinned, all teeth. “I don’t think so. Malfoys are never slaves.” With
deliberate slowness, he rolled up his sleeve. 
Numb with honest shock, Severus could only stare at the scarred, pale arm that
Lucius revealed. There was no hint or shadow of the Dark Mark like there was on
Severus’s arm. He couldn’t even imagine what it had taken Lucius to accomplish
that; it was thought to be impossible! 
Lucius gave a shallow bow. “I wish you luck with your House, Professor Snape. I
don’t have to describe what will happen if something of this nature should
occur again, do I?”
“… No,” Severus answered lowly.
Lucius gave another little smile, eyes cold, before leaving the professor to
think on his words.
…
Draco woke up feeling like shit. He felt dry as a bone and desperately thirsty,
his head was pounding and he was pissed off. 
“Draco…” A gentle hand touched his hair. 
Draco snarled and slapped it aside. He turned dry eyes to see Narcissa sitting
next to him. “What’re you doin’ here?”
Her eyes widened in surprise before softening in concern. “It’s school policy
to send a report to the parents of students treated in the Infirmary.”
“But why are you here?” Draco demanded again. “We’re fine. Go home.” He wanted
to check on Harry. He wanted to be alone.
“Draco…” Narcissa began.
“Get out!” Draco yelled only to wince and scowl as that made his head pound
harder.
Narcissa sat frozen.
Madam Pomfrey bustled in, a ward telling her that Draco had regained
consciousness. “How are you feeling, Mr. Malfoy?” she asked.
Draco thought his head would explode in fury. Why wouldn’t they leave him
alone? 
Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, blocking the two women out of his
awareness. The bond was a trickle of ambient emotions as Harry slept. Draco
realized he was clutching the shirt above Harry’s heart. He could feel every
slow rise and fall of his boy’s chest. Harry was alive and warm and next to
him. 
He took another breath. When he opened his eyes, his anger was buried and he
looked at the women with enforced calm. True privacy would not come while they
were in the Infirmary anyway.
“… side effects of resisting the Sleeping Potion,” the healer was saying.
Draco didn’t care about what she had to say and didn’t bother asking her to
repeat it. He looked to Narcissa, “We apologize for worrying you. We’ll be more
careful. You don’t have to stay.”
Narcissa masked her expression due to Pomfrey’s presence, but Draco could see
that she was upset by her eyes. “You can come home,” she offered quietly. “We
can get tutors as skilled as any you’d find here.”
Draco’s expression softened. He reached over and touched her hand. “Thank you.
Not yet. If you would like to help, I’d like to be alone with Harry for an hour
or two. In a private room.”
Narcissa nodded and stood. She wore a thin black skirt and boots. A white
blouse with a few ruffles falling from her neck and over her chest and a dark
grey day-jacket. Diamonds hung from her ears and a diamond broach sat at the
base of her throat. “Lucius is talking with the Headmaster now. Let me go find
him.”
While she was gone, Pomfrey worked around them in a huff. She was clearly
offended by Draco’s request. Andromeda returned with Dee and Ted. The little
girl climbed up onto the bed and into Draco’s lap. Draco gave her a hug, but it
was stiff. Ted gently scooped his daughter up, sensing that Draco was not in
the mood to deal with the toddler. 
Draco assured them he was fine and that they’d be more careful; the two gave
him a string of good advice and returned home. Shortly after, Narcissa returned
with Dumbledore and Lucius as promised. 
Dumbledore’s eyes were twinkling as he dealt with a very unhappy Pomfrey, and
between Narcissa and Lucius they transferred Harry over into a private room for
contagious or especially critically patients. Draco followed them, never
allowing Harry out of his sight and climbed into the new bed next to his boy. 
“I’ll be in the waiting area,” Narcissa told him before stepping outside. “To
make sure no one disturbs you.”
“Thank you,” he whispered, throat tight with gratitude.
She gave him a gentle smile and shut the door.
Draco immediately turned to Harry. The boy lay sleeping, his lips slightly
parted, dark lashes resting on his cheeks. Draco ran trembling fingers through
the boy’s hair. He found the slightly raised scar above Harry’s right ear and a
little to the back. Closing his eyes, he tried to breathe through the knowledge
that Harry would have died from that fall in the Muggle world. 
Working with careful determination, he managed to strip Harry of his hospital
top and pants. He quickly stripped out of his own and settled between Harry’s
legs. He leaned on his forearms so that his chest didn’t crush Harry’s, their
stomachs and groins pressing against each other. Opening his thighs a bit, he
spread Harry’s legs wider and felt their body heat meld into a soft warmth that
soaked into Draco’s bones. 
“Harry,” he called softly. Dropping his head forward, his hair brushed Harry’s
cheeks a second before their lips gently touched. “Harry,” he said directly
into the boy’s mouth. Draco licked a slow line over those petal soft lips.
“Harry.” He laid a careful kiss on the boy’s bottom lip. Another on the corner
of his mouth, then his cheek. Dipping to his ear, he called again, “Harry,” and
traced the outside of that delicate ear with his tongue. 
The boy shifted, his eyebrows tensing as dazed green eyes fluttered open. A dry
groan escaped his throat. 
“Harry,” Draco breathed. He leaned to the side so that he could free one hand
to stroke the boy’s cheek and run his hands through his hair possessively.
Harry leaned into the touch, but he was confused. Where were they? What
happened? Slowly the memory of Draco getting hurt in Potions returned. “Draco…”
- concern fear - His voice rasped dryly. Something was wrong.
Draco helped him sit up and knelt between Harry’s legs. He gave the boy a tall
glass of water and drank one himself. 
Harry obediently drank the whole cup, but his eyes were locked on Draco.
Something was wrong, he thought again, the certainty settling on him like a
physical weight. Draco didn’t look right. He almost seemed triggery as if he
were on the verge of a flashback, but he was focused completely on Harry as if
it were Harry who’d been hurt and not Draco…
“Hush,” Draco ordered as he took the empty glass from the boy and set them both
on the bedside table. 
Harry ducked his eyes, trying to obey - worry.
“Don’t worry, Harry. You’ll heal us both,” Draco whispered. He cupped Harry’s
face in his hands and kissed his lips.
Harry opened his mouth, inviting Draco in, but the blond kept the kiss
superficial, just a meeting of two lips. Harry’s hands clenched in the sheets.
Draco leaned back, caressing those soft cheeks with his thumbs. “You’ve lost
some time. What’s the last thing you remember?”
“You getting hurt,” Harry answered, eyes downcast submissively. “Snape banished
your robes and shirt. You were burnt. Ron was next to me. Snape was yelling. I
don’t remember anything else.”
“That was yesterday morning,” Draco informed him, still gently brushing Harry’s
cheeks with his fingertips. “You and Ron brought me to the Infirmary. Pomfrey
wouldn’t let you stay. I told you to stay away from Quirrell and stay with Ron.
You went to visit Hagrid and went to class. On the way to dinner, someone cast
a spell that pushed you down the stairs. You got hurt pretty badly. I felt it
all through the bond. We’ve been in the Infirmary all night. Narcissa, Lucius,
Andromeda, Ted, and Dee all came. Andromeda, Ted, and Dee went home once I woke
up and told them we were fine, that we’d be careful, but Narcissa and Lucius
are still here. They helped talk Dumbledore into letting us be alone for a bit
and got us this room.”
Harry was trembling at this point - guilt self-hate. Draco had been hurt and
healing, and Harry had made him worry. He knew Draco would have been furious
that Harry had been hurt while away from him. Draco had probably hurt himself
trying to get to Harry. He’d hurt Draco! He’d worried everyone. He was a no-
good freak! Why couldn’t he do anything right? He had to be more careful! He
had to be aware! He knew the school wasn’t a safe place. How could he let this
happen?
Draco simply watched as Harry absorbed everything that had happened. He
continued to stroke the boy’s cheeks, now wet with a stream of tears as the boy
punished himself with - anger guilt self-hate regret unworthiness. 
“I’m sorry, Draco. Sorry for causing everyone trouble. Please? Please, Draco…”
Harry lifted his eyes to beg. He needed to heal Draco, to make sure any damage
he’d caused was fixed.
Draco gave him an almost cold smile. “You first, Harry. Always you first.”
Harry paled. He’d been hurt bad, then. He felt a spike of - anxiety. He’d have
worried Draco bad in that case. Draco was mad at him. 
“You fell down the stairs, Harry. Bruised you up pretty good. Dislocated your
shoulder. Cracked your head open. You lost so much blood. It was red
everywhere. You even lost your memories. They were yours and now they’re gone
forever. You can’t even tell me who did this to you. Who almost killed you.”
Harry broke into sobs. His gut churned with so much anxiety and guilt that he
was on the verge of being sick. He hated himself. He was always hurting the
people around him, always hurting Draco. Causing him trouble and scaring him.
He wasn’t worthy of Draco’s love. The darkness under his skin oozed to the
surface, making him feel filthy and like clawing his skin right off his body
just to escape it. Wails of grief built up in his chest and throat and choked
him. 
He felt as if he were going to shatter apart when a hand fisted his hair with
painful force. The pain ground him and brought Draco and the room swimming into
focus. Silver eyes pierced him straight through.
“I’m going to give you your punishment, Harry. That’s my job, not yours. Now
roll over. Lay on your belly.”
Harry obediently lay back and rolled over as Draco got off the bed out out from
between his legs.   He trembled with anticipation. Needing so very much.
Needing to be made clean, to atone, to suffer for his sins. He needed to
apologize and earn forgiveness.
“Sorry, Draco, so sorry, I’m sorry, Draco, sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,
Draco, I’m sorry…” he babbled into the pillow, crying helplessly. 
Draco lifted the hairbrush that he’d noticed on the bedside table. There was
also a lamp and a thin glass vase with three white flowers. It was wooden and
heavy, the bristles made of soft hair, but he wasn’t interested in the
bristles. He turned it so that he could feel the solid back. He whacked it into
his palm and felt a satisfying sting. He turned to Harry and tugged on his leg.
“I want you bent over the edge, Harry. Legs on the ground.”
The boy obeyed, crying broken little sobs. The bond boomed with his - GUILT
hate NEED.
Draco smoothed his hand over Harry’s soft skin. “It’s going to hurt, Harry.”
Harry went limp, pliant and needy.
“Ready?”
“Please, Draco, please, sorry, so sorry…”
“Hush,” Draco commanded and Harry instantly became quiet, swallowing his pleas
and sobs. 
Draco placed a hand on the small of Harry’s back for balance and brought the
brush down with a smack on Harry’s ass. 
Harry’s hands clenched in the sheets as the burn registered. Another smack.
Tears fell down his red face, soaking the bed underneath his head. Smack! He
had to press his face into the sheets to muffle a pained cry. 
Draco breathed slowly through his nose and out his mouth as he laid down a
steady pattern of hits. Harry’s skin slowly turned pink and then red. The heat
that radiated from the boy’s skin increased with each blow until Draco could
feel it an inch away. 
* You’re mine. You have to be careful. Nothing can happen to you, Harry. I love
you. You scared me so much, * he whispered into the boy’s mind as he laid down
another three blows. 
Harry’s back glistened with sweat and he practically choked on the sheets to
keep his cries muffled. As the pain and heat bloomed into an inferno, he felt
the guilt and hate fall away. Draco loved him. Draco would make him clean. 
Draco slowly realized that he was crying, tears wetting his face, making his
blond hair clinging to his cheeks. Realized the tangle of sharp emotions
choking him were his own. He could have lost Harry! He should have been there!
Harry looked so small bent over, his butt cheeks turning a dark red as he
brought his arm down again and again with more and more force. Draco was
trembling. His whole arm vibrated with exhaustion. He couldn’t catch his
breath. 
Harry tossed his head back with a gasp, consumed by the burning pain, blind to
everything else. He arched into each blow, tears soaking his face. It took him
several minutes to realize that the punishment had stopped. He turned his head,
his butt screaming with every heartbeat. Draco was sitting on the bed next to
him, stroking his hair.
“… it’s over… it’s done… so good, Harry… love you…” the blond murmured, a soft
whisper.
Harry felt like he was floating, as if he were dreaming. Filled to bursting
with love, he carefully stood, forcing his legs to lock and not collapse under
him. Panting, it was his turn to cup Draco’s face. 
The blond was crying, his eyes dark and lost. It was Harry’s turn to heal.
Murmuring back at the blond … “love you… thank you, Draco… yours, I’m yours…”
Harry got Draco situated on the bed on his stomach. 
There was a new blotchy scar between Draco’s shoulder blades, erasing the white
lines and ropes embedded on his skin from his time in the Hold. Harry knelt
between Draco’s legs and braced himself on his hands before leaning down to
trace the new scar with his tongue - loveLOVElove - beat like something alive
in his chest, in his soul. 
Every move made Harry’s butt ache and burn, burn so bad. It felt amazing,
wearing Draco’s mark, feeling the impact of Draco deep in his skin. The heat
and pain made his love burn hotter, made his magic strum to life.
Draco gasped as he felt Harry hovering over him, felt the heat of Harry’s love
and magic soak deep into his body as the boy began to trace every single scar
with his hot tongue. Halfway down his back, Draco began moaning, his hips began
to rock against the bed as pleasure coiled and tightened in his gut. 
Harry’s sweat dripped onto Draco’s back as he worked his way down Draco’s
beautiful body. He could hardly contain his - joy pleasure desire- as Draco
began thrusting against the bed. Harry was making him feel good! Draco, Draco,
Draco… he chanted in his mind, completely lost to their spiraling pleasure. 
Gently kissing the small of Draco’s back, he whispered a desperate, “Please…”
Draco groaned deep in his chest and lifted up on his knees. He turned his head
sideways on his forearms and growled, “Yes, Harry. Lick me open. Do it. Make me
cum.” 
Harry almost exploded right there. Draco had never let him touch him there
since that time in the Hold. Their first time. It was a cherished memory. That
Draco would allow him this once more when he didn’t deserve it … - GRATITUDE
LOVE-
He gently spread Draco’s cheeks and pressed his face close. He licked at
Draco’s hole, getting it wet and soft. The sounds of Draco’s moans and gasps
made Harry feel like he was on fire. Eyes fluttering closed, he pressed his
tongue forward into that tight opening, and licked inside the rim. The taste
was bitter and musky and Draco… 
Harry groaned hungrily and pressed ever closer, clinging to Draco’s hips.
Draco was grunting now, his hips rocking back on Harry’s face, setting the pace
for Harry’s tongue to follow. Draco’s fists tore at the sheets. Pleasure spiked
up his spine. So fucking good!He was so close. He freed one hand to reach
between his legs. “Yes… Harry, mine… you’re mine…” he growled. 
Sharp stabs of shocking pleasure, Harry’s hot mouth and his stabbing, wiggling
tongue, the hungry little noises Harry made, god it was all coming together.
Thrusting back, pressing Harry’s tongue as deep as it could go, the pleasure
rolled through him like thunder. Blinded by stars, Draco spurt clear fluid over
his fingers. Head thrown back with a guttural cry, he collapsed on the bed. 
Dazed, thrumming with the orgasm, Draco rolled on his side to see Harry
kneeling on the bed, cheeks red, lips flushed and swollen, hair a mess, and his
green eyes blazing. The bond practically screamed with - need desire LOVE.Their
magic was still locked, filling the room with a thumping, incomplete power.
Draco shivered and gave a slow smile. He shifted so he was lying on his back,
his legs on either side of the gorgeous boy. 
“Touch yourself, Harry,” he whispered low. “Show me. Show me how good I make
you feel.”
Harry whimpered, his eyes falling closed as he touched his stiff member with
tentative fingers.
“Open your eyes.”
Harry obeyed and blushed as Draco stared back at him, eyes silver and lazy and
happy. Harry practically melted into that look. 
The taste of Draco on his tongue, the sounds of Draco’s pleasure still ringing
in his ears, the pain throbbing hotly, add to that the soft brush of his own
fingers on his dick and it was nearly enough to send him over the edge. He gave
a whole body shudder, flushed and heated and almost there, Draco watching every
move, his every expression. He was open and vulnerable and all Draco’s. 
Draco’s smiled that small, sweet smile that only Harry saw, and Harry sobbed,
overwhelmed with how much he loved him - would do anything for him… “Not yet,”
Draco purred.
Harry whimpered and made his fingers even lighter to keep from cumming, just a
feather’s touch, and it was still almost enough… “Please please please please…”
he begged. Magic and pain and desire and love twisted the air into knots oh god
he couldn’t hold back it was coming…
Draco sat up, all languid grace, and gripped Harry’s hips. The tips of his
fingers pressed into the blazing heat of Harry’s ass. The boy tossed his head
back with a soft cry, hand frozen as he barely hung on to Draco’s command to
hold it, to wait. Their magic swirled and throbbed, filling the room with power
on the verge of crashing down…
Draco licked up Harry’s exposed throat and whispered into his skin, “Cum,
Harry.”
Harry screamed, flinging his arms around Draco’s shoulders and tucking his face
against Draco’s throat as his whole body curled forward. Howling magic broke
over them in a wave, making Draco moan as he clung to his boy. Magic filled
them to overflowing, healing their hurts, washing them clean, and they
collapsed in a sweaty, panting heap wrapped in each other’s arms. 
“Good boy,” Draco whispered on the edge of unconsciousness. “Good boy, Harry.”
Harry curled in closer to Draco’s sheltering warmth and let sleep pull him
under.
Chapter end.
***** Making Plans *****
Making Plans
Draco led Harry out of the room by his hand. Harry blushed prettily and gave a
shy smile to the waiting Narcissa.
Narcissa smiled gently back and stood from the chair that had been placed in
the hall. She shrunk the parchment she’d been writing on and tucked it into a
pocket in her skirt. “How are you feeling?”
“Much better,” Draco answered. He gave her an easy smile, his blond hair tucked
behind his ears and his eyes a warm grey.
“Good.” She ached to reach out and touch her child’s cheek, but she knew
better. “You are still not officially cleared to leave the Infirmary, so you’ll
have to check in with Healer Pomfrey.”
Draco sighed. “Fine.” As he followed Narcissa down the hall, he asked, “What
time is it?”
“It is Sunday, five fifteen in the evening.”
“Dinner will be served soon,” Draco said and glanced at Harry, hearing the
boy’s stomach rumble. Harry’s blush deepened, making Draco laugh softly under
his breath.
Pomfrey, her grey hair pulled back into a messy bun, looked cross as she
straightened her pristine white apron. Her forbidding frown grew even darker
when she scanned them and found them in perfect health. Well, except for the
superficial bruising on Harry’s buttocks. She gave Narcissa a very disapproving
look, but Narcissa returned it with icy composure, completely unruffled.
Unfortunately, it was not within Pomfrey’s authority to criticize her
parenting.
Both boys bore new scars - Draco’s back where he’d been burned and Harry’s
scalp where it had impacted stairs. Harry’s memory loss also remained, but
otherwise they were in perfect health. There wasn’t even a trace of the healing
spells and potions that had been in their systems not three hours ago.
“Ah, my boys, it’s good to see you up and about!” Dumbledore said with cheer,
arriving at the end of their examination. His robes were a soft gold with green
vines along the bottom hem and sleeves. Draco snorted as he noticed the small
white flowers tucked into the old man’s waist-long beard. “Your bond is an
amazing thing.” He chuckled. “It is a good thing your magic was accepted by
Hogwarts and absorbed into the walls or I dare say the whole castle would have
felt it. As it is, only myself and Minerva were able to feel the boost to the
wards.”
Pomfrey humphed. “Channeling powerful magic while recovering from injury is
dangerous,” she informed them with deep disapproval. 
Everyone in the room ignored her.
“Can we go?” Draco asked, bored. Harry was hungry.
“Yes, of course, of course,” Dumbledore answered jovially, but then his face
took on a serious cast. “Be careful, my boy. Don’t do anything that would land
you in trouble.”
“I won’t,” Draco promised. He’d be very sure his revenge wouldn’t be traced
back to him. Looking up at Narcissa, he gave her a grateful smile. “Thank you
for coming and looking out for us. Tell Lucius I’ll take care of it.”
Narcissa inclined her head. “Write often.”
“We will.”
“Bye, Narcissa,” Harry called softly as Draco tugged him to the door. His
beautiful green eyes were soft and filled with contentment behind his round
black glasses. “Love you.”
Narcissa teared up and gave him a wave as the boys disappeared back into the
school.
…
They were the first to arrive in the Great Hall. Harry sat next to Draco at
their usual table and winced as his butt came in contact with the hard wood of
the bench. Draco watched through half-lidded eyes as the boy squirmed before
finally resigning himself to the painful ache and sitting still.
“I want you to think about something,” Draco spoke calmly. He instantly had
Harry’s full attention. “If you’re unconscious or too hurt to heal us when
we’re attacked, we might not be able to walk away next time. You have stay
safe, Harry. Without you we can’t heal ourselves.”
Harry ducked his head - regret determination. “Sorry, Draco.”
Draco slid his fingers down Harry’s jaw and hooked his chin, gently lifting it
up. “Good boy,” he said softly.
Harry stared at him with wide eyes - disbelief longing.
Smiling softly, Draco whispered it again, “Good boy.”
Kids began entering the hall. Voices dropped to whispers as soon as they saw
Harry and Draco sitting alone at the Gryffindor table. Draco idly wondered what
rumors were being spread about them. Percy would be paying attention to the
gossip and would report back to him later.
It wasn’t long before their group started arriving. They walked in gloomily,
their steps slow, their heads downcast. Hermione noticed them first. She said
something and then came running over. Draco smiled and accepted the excited
clasps on his shoulders from Dean, Seamus, and the Weasley twins. Harry
received a more thorough welcome. 
The girls touched his shoulders and arms while the boys pounded on his back.
Hermione even touched Harry’s hair. Harry blushed at the attention, but his
mask was in place and he smiled up at them, hiding the pain of being jostled on
his bruised bottom.
Draco cleared his throat. “We’re fine, guys. Sit down so we can eat.” 
As the group began to sit down at the table, giving them some space, Draco
noticed that Ron had held back and that Neville was missing. He frowned at
Hermione. “Where’s Neville?”
Her happy expression shifted to something more sad. She shook her head, her
frizzy hair hitting Harry in the face. “He won’t come down. He thinks it’s his
fault.” Her eyes shifted to Ron before looking back at Draco adding, “Harry
probably wouldn’t have been hurt if you were there.”
Ron winced and sunk even lower on his seat.
Draco inclined his head slightly to let her know he understood that he had to
deal with Ron. He also had to deal with Neville, but Hermione probably didn’t
understand that or she’d have worded her answer differently. They ate dinner,
listening as the twins and the others filled them in on what they’d missed. 
Apparently Ron and Harry had heard from Hagrid about the first ever break-in at
Gringotts. Weird thing was, the thief had broken in to an empty vault. What
were the odds? Raul, the Sixth-year Gryffindor bully, had congratulated Neville
on a job well done earlier that afternoon, which was why Neville was hiding
now. They had gotten their homework mostly done and offered to let Harry and
Draco copy for tomorrow’s classes.
After dinner, they went back up to the common room. Draco maneuvered through
their group to grab Ron’s wrist. He held it loosely, but the redhead still
winced. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Ron didn’t answer one way or another, but he followed Draco up the stairs.
Harry trailed after them, saying goodnight to the others. 
In their dorm, Neville was sitting on his bed. His fat toad sat next to him,
croaking sadly. Neville looked pale and exhausted. He stared dully as Harry
carefully shut the door behind them and moved to the side, his head
submissively bowed.
Draco spun and faced Ron. “So who did it?” he demanded lowly.
Ron fidgeted. “I don’t know… not for sure.”
Draco shoved him hard in the chest, making Ron stagger and his back hit the
door with jarring force. He stared at Draco with wide, frightened eyes. “Don’t
give me that shit,” Draco hissed. He stalked up to the slightly taller boy,
eyes glittering. “You were right there and Harry almost died. I want a name.”
“I thought it was this Slytherin kid, a Third-year named Pucey,” Ron yelled,
tears filling his eyes. “He was standing there smug as hell, staring down at us
before everyone else rushed over, but he was one floor above where Harry fell,
so it had to be by magic if it was him, and they checked his wand and
everything and there was no proof! So I don’t know okay!”
Draco waited a moment to let the redhead’s tears slowly dry on his cheeks.
“Okay,” he answered softly and backed off. 
Ron stared at him in shock. “That’s it?”
Draco lifted an eyebrow, half his hair falling to frame his face. “You’ll be
more careful next time,” he stated darkly. It almost sounded like a threat.
Ron swallowed and nodded. He looked over at Harry. “I’m really sorry, mate.
I’m… I’m glad you didn’t die.”
Harry lifted his head and gave him a beautiful smile. “Thanks, Ron.”
Ron blushed, his freckles disappearing under the wave of red, and shifted
awkwardly again. “So… can I go?”
Draco nodded, his attention was already on Neville. He hardly noticed as Harry
and Ron shared a few more words before Ron slipped out of the room. Neville
wore an expression very similar to Harry’s - wide-eyes full of pain and need,
pale with flushed cheeks, trembling lips. It tugged at his insides. 
Draco walked slowly up to the boy, leaving only a few inches between them.
Neville had ducked his head as soon as Draco had started moving toward him, his
pale hands clutched at the sheets. Draco slowly slid his school robe off his
shoulders to pool at his feet. Then he began to unbutton his shirt. He let the
shirt fall to the floor to join his robe. Neville’s breath hitched, but his
head remained down. 
Draco turned, displaying his back. “Look.” 
It was a command and he felt Neville’s eyes slowly lift. He glanced over his
shoulder to see the boy looked close to passing out. Horror was written across
his face. 
* Harry, show him. *
Harry came away from where he stood by the door and went to them. He sat next
to Neville and gave him a sweet smile. “These are from the Hold where Draco was
before we met.” He gently traced one of the whip scars. “This was from your
potion.” He traced the outline of the splotch of scar between Draco’s shoulder
blades.
Neville whimpered. Tears streaked his face. “I-I’m s-s-sorry…” he rasped.
You didn’t do it on purpose… He’d probably heard that a hundred times from
Hermione already. It was an accident… equally useless. It wouldn’t even touch
the guilt Neville felt. He didn’t want it explained away, but maybe not even
Neville understood what he did want… what he needed. But Draco did. Neville
needed atonement so that he could feel forgiven.
Draco turned and faced the chubby boy with the round cheeks and guilty brown
eyes. He bent forward, putting their faces close together as he fisted the
other boy’s thick hair. “You were careless. You were afraid and made a mistake.
It got me hurt. Added to my scars.”
Neville winced. He didn’t even try to escape the blond’s hold. He stared up at
him almost desperately. “Yes,” he sobbed.
“You’re gonna make it up to me.” Draco smiled, slow and dangerous. His fist
tightened, making the boy whimper in pain. “You’re going to do our homework for
tomorrow and then you’re going to start studying potions. You’re going to study
it until you make the perfect potion. To apologize.”
“Yes, sir…” Neville’s eyes widened at the words that spilled from his lips.
Draco was the same age as him. He was smaller than him even, but for some
reason it felt right on a deep level to call him that.
Draco’s eyes softened. “Good.” He released Neville and gently brushed his
fingers over the boy’s damp cheek in reward. “Get to work.”
Neville scrambled off the bed, past Harry, to his school bag discarded in the
corner.
Harry began to pick up Draco’s clothes. 
“I’m going out of a bit. Stay here.” Draco’s eyes flashed over his shoulder as
he pulled on a sweater to wear over his jeans.
“Yes, Draco,” Harry answered easily.
Neville nodded with a hot blush.
“Good,” Draco repeated, almost purring.
Both of the boys flushed with pleasure at the blond’s praise.
Draco searched for Percy. He wasn’t in the common room, so Draco went down to
the study Percy had shown him before. Sure enough, the older teen was waiting
for him. He was writing an essay at the desk and smiled as Draco approached.
“How are you feeling?” Percy asked quietly.
“Good as new,” Draco answered. He stood next to Percy’s chair, facing the teen,
with his back to the corner of the desk. He leaned back against it. They were
about eye level with Percy sitting and Draco standing. “What’s the word?”
Percy pushed his glasses higher up his nose. “Some people think it was just an
accident. The rest think it was the Slytherins although no one knows who.
Nott’s name has been bandied about. The rumor is he was jealous that Harry made
the Quidditch team because of the stunt during flying class. Some people are
saying the potions accident was rigged somehow to get you out of the way. All
part of a Slytherin plan. I kept my eye on Quirrell, but he didn’t do anything
out of the ordinary.”
Draco hummed. He glanced down at Percy’s essay. “Can I borrow parchment? I need
to write a letter.”
Percy got some out of his bag and relinquished his seat so the blond could sit.
Percy leaned his hip against the desk as he watched Draco pen a quick note. He
didn’t try reading it. He’d learned over the years that sometimes it was for
the best not to know everything. Still, a question burned on his tongue and
slipped past his lips no matter how much he tried to hold it in.
“So was it Pucey?” Ron was his little brother. He knew who he’d fingered. He
had practically screamed the accusation in front of dozens of witnesses when
Harry had fallen.
Grey eyes looked up at him curiously. “You know it was.”
Percy bit his lip for a split second before continuing. “There were a lot of
people on the landing, Draco. He wasn’t the only one smirking. His wand turned
up clean. Are you sure?”
Draco frowned. He put the quill down and sat back in the chair. “Slytherins
have a lot of ways of covering things up. He’s a Third-year. I’m sure he could
manage it. He also made a threatening statement about Malfoys hooking up with
Potters at the robe shop. We also know he’s very firmly on the Dark side. He
saw an opportunity and took it. It was violent and impulsive. Not many other
people are capable of that. On top of that, Ron was there and his instincts
told him it was Pucey. People always forget we’re animals on a basic level.
Instincts are often correct.” 
He stood and pushed at Percy’s chest with the palm of his hand, warningly. His
eyes glittered dangerously as he stared up at the older teen. “I won’t let
bastards like Pucey get away with shit because they know how to work the
system. Society may need proof, but I don’t.”
Draco’s words were full of double meaning. Percy had been a helpless First-year
when he’d been molested. It was always at night while every one else slept and
he’d always passed out afterward. When he woke in the morning, drenched in
sweat and terrified, there had been no marks, no evidence. It was impossible
for a man to break into the dorms. Without proof, no one would have believed
him. 
Draco had believed, but more than that he had done something about it. It made
no rational sense. It shouldn’t have been possible that a kid four years
younger than him could protect him from dozens of miles away, but Draco had.
Percy hadn’t been touched since. Just as Draco had promised. So as unrealistic
as it may seem for Draco to know who did this to Harry, Percy had to believe he
did.
“Okay,” he allowed, ducking his head. His posture relaxed as he submitted.
“What do you need me to do?”
Draco eyed him for a long minute before nodding. He sat and finished his
letter. He rolled it up and held it between his fingers, staring up at Percy
through his lashes. “Mail this for me.”
Percy nodded his head. “Okay,” he said again as he accepted the parchment. “Be
careful. If you get caught, you’ll end up dealing with the Aurors.”
Draco snorted. He thought very little of the magical government and its law
enforcement. “Yeah. I’ll be careful.”
Percy packed up his essay, ink, and quill and put his bag over his shoulder.
“I’ll go to the Owlery now.”
Draco said nothing as he watched Percy leave. He didn’t like all this doubt
about his ability to protect Harry. He’d have to make sure his revenge was
executed perfectly. So that everyone thought twice about attacking Harry again
and so that Percy and those he intended to protect didn’t doubt him again.
…
Remus got up from the small dining nook in the cottage in Hogsmeade he’d
purchased four years ago to open a window. A barn owl swooped in, a rolled up
parchment in its beak. 
“Hello, there,” he cooed softly, stroking its feathers. 
The cottage was small: two bedrooms and a full bath upstairs, a sitting room,
kitchen with attached dinning nook, and a laundry downstairs. It was set far
back from High Street on the edge of the town and backed into the mountains
where Hogsmeade had been placed. It was an all-magical village set above and to
the south of Hogwarts. The main road led to the school on one end and ended at
the train station at the other.
He made the walk to Hogwarts and the Whomping Willow every month. He could have
walked to the Shrieking Shack from his cottage in minutes, but he didn’t want
any of the villagers to see him go in and get suspicious, so he used the tunnel
from the school. Plus, he liked to patrol the school’s boarder. It was useless.
He couldn’t do much in the great scheme of things to protect anything or
anyone, but his instincts still drove him to try.
It made him feel both satisfied and restless to know the boys were now so
close. He unrolled the letter, wondering what Muggle things they needed now,
and his smile fell. His gut clenched and he had the urge to growl. Someone had
hurt Harry and Draco needed help punishing the guilty person. 
He strode to the fire in the sitting room and threw the letter in. He’d leave
nothing to incriminate Draco. He grabbed his jacket and house keys and strode
out into the night. He had a few errands to run.
…
Harry, sweetie, I’m sorry we had to leave you so soon, but Denebola was not
comfortable in Hogwarts. The longer we were there the more restless she became.
Perhaps she was sensitive to the magic of the school. I can only hope she’ll
either grow out of it or more in control as she gets older. It would be a shame
if she could not attend. 
The healer assured me you would be well and Draco promised the same. More
importantly, Narcissa refused to leave your side. I knew she would make sure
you are safe there. It was the only thing that made me feel comfortable enough
to go. The next time I have need to come to Hogwarts, I’ll leave little
Denebola with Remus in Hogsmeade.
Ted sends his love. Denebola tried to eat the edge of this parchment, so I take
that to mean she also misses you. Be careful, Harry. The world is filled with
troubled people. Be on your guard, but do not let it get in the way of your
happiness. Draco, I know you are reading this, too. This advice goes for you as
well. Don’t let this ruin your experience at Hogwarts or let it land you in
trouble. 
Congratulations on your Sorting to Gryffindor, both of you! And on making
Seeker, Harry. The youngest in a century! And Draco as reserve! I know you two
will accomplish so many great things. I’m very proud of you.
All my love,
Andromeda Tonks
Harry handed the letter to Draco and returned to his breakfast. Draco read it
quickly and tucked it into his bag. Neville had written the homework due for
today’s classes three times and given them each one, so that they’d be ready.
They had Xylomancy, Potions theory, lunch, DADA theory, and their Charms
practical. It was definitely going to be a busy day.
…
They spent the fist half of Xylomancy opening themselves to the universe and
magic. Hermione and most of the boys were very suspicious and embarrassed by
this process, but the other girls took it seriously. Even tomboys Fay and Kell.
Harry, of course, approached all of their classes with earnest concentration
while Neville was always nervous. 
Draco tried his best to block out his roommate’s low level anxiety, Ron and
Seamus elbowing each other, Dean’s snickering, and Hermione scoffing. He let
Professor Mopsus’s deep voice roll over him. 
Their professor chanted in a foreign language before transitioning to English.
He asked for enlightenment and wisdom, asked that his pupils be given signs and
messages that they could understand. As the minutes dragged on, the class grew
more calm and slowly became still. There was a hypnotic quality to the man’s
voice and it even seemed that his one blue eye seemed to glow while the brown
one seemed to grow darker. 
They were told to partner up and wander the grounds to look for twigs, fallen
branches, or drift wood to examine. Slowly the class grew more animated as they
left Professor Moss’s vicinity. They began to laugh and play. In contrast,
Draco remained quiet and wandered away from the group toward the forest edge
with Harry in tow. 
Draco felt almost meditative. He walked with no direction, no thought. Just let
impulse guide him. He felt at peace like when he got Occluding just right, but
without the sense of effort or strain that it took to maintain. It was
effortless. 
The morning was crisp, an autumn chill in the air. Clouds hung toward the
north, threatening rain. They walked in silence for several minutes, just
taking everything in. They found a fallen tree limb just out of sight of the
lake and Hagrid’s hut. It had fallen on a rock and the base had cracked before
tumbling to the side. The leaves were dry and dying, but one side of the branch
had more, the other was barren. 
As Draco stared at it, he could feel something. Like the branch had fallen
according to a pattern in the universe and not randomly. It felt significant in
a weird way. As if from a distance he could hear Harry drawing what they had
found as best he could in the Muggle notebook Remus had mailed them that
morning. Minutes passed and Draco continued to stare enraptured. Eventually
Harry began to quietly flip through their textbook, trying to look up meanings
that matched the branch they had found.
“The rock represents conflict,” Draco whispered lowly, almost as if he were
half-asleep. “There are two paths from that conflict. One that leads to…” He
groped for the word, but it wouldn’t come. Instead he gestured at the thin,
naked twigs on the leafless half of the branch. “The other is more… full of
possibility.” He gestured at the side of the branch that still had leaves,
dying as they were.
“Very good, young Malfoy,” Professor Mopsus walked up the hill and stopped at
their side. He also stared at the branch. “It is clear one path is more
favorable than the other,” he agreed, voice low and soothing.
Draco nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you, Professor.” He gave a respectful bow of
his head and took Harry’s hand. 
The bell had sounded. Class was over.
…
Hermione was very surprised when Neville quietly asked to use the individual
desk in Potions. It wasn’t a practical, it was only theory, but Neville wanted
to make it clear that he was studying hard as Draco had told him. The image of
Draco’s scar haunted him. He was desperate to get that weight off his chest, to
breathe freely again. He didn’t deserve to and he was bound to mess it all up,
but he couldn’t help striving for forgiveness anyway. 
Ron was equally surprised when a huffy Hermione came to be his partner. He
stared at her like she had three heads or something until she gave him a glare
that could have melted a glass cauldron. He quickly turned his attention to the
lecture and his notes after that. 
As the class wore on, he grew increasingly uncomfortable and aggravated. The
girl kept making soft tsking noises and would reach over to actually draw an X
over some of his words because he got the note wrong. It was aggravating as
hell. He could fix his notes later himself, thanks! She made him feel like an
idiot, so he of course hated her by the end of class. He shoved everything
messily into his bag, glared at her when she opened her mouth to lecture him,
and stormed out of the class. 
Draco stared as the flushed and embarrassed Hermione snapped at Neville to,
“Hurry up!” He frowned. The girl was clearly upset and he didn’t like how that
threw Neville off balance. The boy began to stutter and actually tripped over
his own shoe lace in the hall, spilling his things everywhere. Draco tensed to
intervene, but instead of screaming at the flustered boy, Hermione dropped to
her knees and helped him clean up with tears on her cheeks. 
Draco hurried Harry past them, preventing him from helping. He knew that would
only make Hermione more embarrassed and likely piss her off again.
Draco sent Harry on to the table with the order to cool Ron down if he could
and waited for the twins. He didn’t have to wait long. He gave the teens a
friendly smile and asked, “Can I talk to you a moment before lunch?”
“Of course,” George answered ecstatically.
“You’re our favorite trouble-maker, after all,” Fred agreed with a huge grin.
They pulled him into a broom closet a few doors down from the Great Hall. Draco
brushed his hair out of his eyes, sandwiched between the two Third-years. His
chest was pressed up against George’s chest while Fred pressed up close to his
back. 
“What can we do for you?” Fred asked, giggling. 
“Isn’t so tight in here when it’s just us,” George admitted ruefully.
“He looked smaller before we crammed him in here with us,” Fred agreed and
rested his chin on the top of Draco’s head.
Draco shrugged him off as best he could. “I have a revenge plan in play, but I
had to make a little adjustment. Instead of having it go off in the Great Hall,
it needs to happen in the Slytherin Common room. I got a few friends who can
help me with opening the portrait, but do you have any advice on how to get
there from Gryffindor Tower and not get caught? The portraits are all more
alert than normal. I never see them sleeping now.”
“Dumbledore’s not messing around,” George said wryly. 
“He was pretty furious that Harry was hurt,” Fred sighed and leaned as far back
as he could, trying to give the blond space.
“You should have heard his lecture Saturday night at dinner…” George trailed
off and met Fred’s eyes. Silent communication passed between them. 
Draco waited impatiently. It was getting hot crammed in here with these two. 
“Should we, Forge?” George finally asked out loud.
“I think we should, Gred,” Fred agreed.
“We haven’t even let our dorm mates see what we’re going to show you,” George
whispered, staring intently down into Draco’s eyes. 
“You gotta swear to keep it secret,” Fred added and gripped Draco’s shoulders
tightly.
The flashback came hard and fast, nearly making him throw up, but before it
could come clear, the spell Snape had taught him snapped into place, distancing
him from the memory and giving him back control. 
Draco forced himself to stay still. It felt like all the air had been knocked
out of his lungs. Sweat beaded his face, his hands shook, and he felt nauseous
as all hell, but he could hide it. “Of course. I swear I’ll never reveal what
you show me,” he promised after a few seconds, voice even.
“That room you go to with Percy sometimes. Go there tonight. Midnight,” George
whispered and burst out of the closet with dramatic force. 
Fred tumbled after his twin, laughing and carrying on. 
Draco stepped over the brooms and mops calmly, but his face was pale. 
Harry knew something wasn’t right without Draco saying a word. He hovered at
Draco’s side and became loud and friendly, drawing everyone’s attention away
from Draco’s withdrawn, disconnected behavior. 
Draco made it through lunch, DADA, and Charms. He even made it through dinner,
but he could feel his control slipping. The spell wouldn’t last much longer.
Harry made a big deal about his stomach hurting after eating almost half a pie
all by himself during dessert, giving Draco the perfect chance to disappear
with Harry up in their room. 
The others laughed and Draco smiled indulgently, leading Harry away. Harry had
managed to whisper in Neville’s ear during dinner, asking him to give them an
hour or so before he came up to bed. The boy had agreed.
Draco collapsed to his knees just inside their dorm room. He hugged his torso,
his control slipping as a violent and painful memory trembled deep in his mind,
ready to consume him. Harry didn’t try to touch him. He knelt at Draco’s side
and spoke lowly, softly.
“You’re okay, Draco. No one’s going to hurt you. You’re safe now. I’m here…”
Draco gave a full body shudder and curled over his knees, forehead pressing
hard into the floor. He bit his lip hard enough to make it bleed, trying to
keep in his screams… He was there. In the Hold. In the dark, damp swaying. Men
came barreling down the stairs. They never came down. Not since Draco had taken
over. They were fast, but strangely quiet. 
They pried up boards that made up the floor, revealing dark squares. Like tiny
coffins. The men gagged the crying children. Tied their hands behind their
backs. Tied their ankles. Then they started shoving the tussed-up kids into the
holes before putting the boards back into place. Shutting them in.
Draco was yanked forward. He stared with empty eyes as his hands were quickly
and efficiently bound. He knew what was coming. His heart hammered in his
chest. The bruises and welts felt icy cold against his skin. His ankles were
tied. The gag came toward his face. No. Not that. He already couldn’t breathe.
His chest was tight with terror. The smell of piss filled the air. A few kids
had wet themselves in fear. He shook his head as the gag pressed at his mouth. 
The man grabbed a fistful of his hair and brought their faces together. “You
make a sound. The smallest sound. I’ll take you apart piece by bloody,
screaming piece,” he growled, his breath hot and heavy against Draco’s face. 
Then he was grabbed by his shoulders from behind. The grip tight and heavy. He
was shoved in the box with three other kids. Skin against his, warm, wet,
wiggling. Pressed in tight. An elbow in his gut, hands scratching at his hip, a
knee pressed against his balls, his cheek against a boy’s shoulder, the rub of
a girl’s gag rough against his back. They were all naked and terrified. The
boards came down and it went pitch black. 
He could hear the muffled gasps of the kids pressed against him, on him,
beneath him. Feel it as if they were his own. Every breath was a struggle,
their lungs labored around him. Piss dripped on his skin, stung his marks.
Draco didn’t make a sound. 
His hands worked, dug into skin, drew blood, as if trying to claw his way out,
but they were useless, bound at the small of his back, pressed into another
kid’s body. The girl behind him strained against him. He could taste her panic,
her terror. She thrashed as much as she could with being pressed in so tight.
Then she went rigid and then still. 
Draco shuddered. He knew. Knew she was dead. He gulped in the tainted air. It
felt thinner. He couldn’t breathe. Oh god get me out of here I can’t breathe
I’m going to die get them off oh god please get them off me…
“… please come back. I’m right here, Draco. With you. You’re okay. You’re
safe…”
Harry’s voice. Draco slowly cracked open his eyes. He realized he was digging
his forehead into the rug, his arms wrapped tight around him as he curled into
a painful ball on the floor. His face was soaked with tears and sweat. His
clothes clung to his body. Muscles stiff, he carefully uncurled and gasped in
air, desperate to breathe again. He was shaking.
Harry lovingly helped him to his feet and stripped him of his clothes. He
wrapped Draco in a robe and towed him to the bathroom. There, Harry washed him
in cool water before bundling him back up and taking him back to their room.
Neville was there. He watched them worriedly, but he didn’t say anything. Only
Harry’s soft sweet voice filled the room. Talking about nothing, just a soft
voice in the darkness. 
Draco was pulled into bed. When he tensed at Harry’s touch, the boy carefully
gave him enough space so they wouldn’t touch during the night. Numb, Draco fell
into a deep, dreamless sleep. He never made a sound.
Chapter end
***** Revenge *****
Revenge
Harry woke Draco with soft kisses. He’d cracked open their bed hangings and let
in the lamp light to dance and flutter over them. Draco sighed, tension leaving
his frame as he pulled Harry against his chest. 
Their lips slid sensually and slowly against each other, Draco’s tongue taking
languid swipes at the inside of Harry’s mouth. His hands tangled in Harry’s
thick, messy hair as they kissed, scratching gently at the boy’s scalp and
making him shiver. It felt amazing to have Harry’s warm, pliant body pressed
against his. It felt like home and comfort. 
Sighing again, Draco broke their kiss, trailing his wet lips along Harry’s jaw.
His hands tightened in his boy’s hair, lifting Harry’s head so that he could
get to his throat. Harry gave a soft whine as Draco bit down on his leather
collar. 
* Love you, * he whispered into his boy’s mind.
- joy LOVE -poured through the bond like warm syrup.
“What time is it?” Draco whispered, hands exploring Harry’s naked back and
sides.
Harry pulled away to reach for his glasses and Draco’s watch. It had been a
gift from Ted for Draco’s eleventh birthday. It had a thin black leather band
and a round silver face. The background was a light emerald green in color,
nearly the exact shade of Harry’s crystalline eyes. The numbers were roman
numerals and the hands were thin and delicate with a spade-like shape at each
tip. Draco didn’t prefer to have things around his wrists or fingers, but he’d
taken to wearing the watch once they’d started Hogwarts. 
Harry read it carefully and answered, “Quarter to six.”
Draco sat up and ran his hands through his hair with a frustrated frown. He’d
missed his midnight meeting with the twins! He wondered how upset they’d be if
he went and woke them up now. Mentally shrugging, he decided to find out.
“You have Quidditch practice in thirty minutes. Get ready,” Draco ordered. 
Quidditch season hadn’t officially started yet, but Wood was running practice
for last year’s members twice a week - on Tuesday and Thursday. Once try-outs
were held and the season officially kicked off, practice would be five days a
week - Monday through Friday morning, six-fifteen to eight. 
“I’m going to go talk to Fred and George. I’ll meet you at the pitch to walk
you to breakfast.” Draco felt safe enough letting Harry go alone. Very few
people were awake at this hour and the dust had yet to settle after the last
attack. Harry should be safe.
“Yes, Draco.” Harry smiled and happily accepted the last gentle kiss that Draco
placed on his lips. He climbed out of bed, but looked back curiously as Draco
grabbed his wrist.
Draco crawled to the edge of the bed and sat, lifting Harry’s nightshirt. He
ran a hand over the fading yellow and green bruises on each soft butt cheek. It
would be a couple more days before they healed fully. Riding a broom must be
painful. 
Draco looked up at Harry and considered healing it, but the calmness of the
green eyes that stared back at him over a soft, round shoulder decided him
against it. The bruises still hurt, but Harry wasn’t upset about it and it
really was a lesson that Draco wanted Harry to take to heart. With that in
mind, he took a handful of each round cheek and squeezed a bit, making Harry
hiss softly under his breath. 
“Remember to be careful,” Draco whispered against Harry’s neck, the boy’s head
bowed submissively forward. “You need to make sure you’re always well enough to
heal us if necessary.” He stood and hugged the boy from behind before giving
him a gentle shove forward. “Now get ready,” he repeated.
Harry obeyed with another soft, “Yes, Draco,” filled with - regret
determination gratitude.
“Good boy,” he murmured and accepted the school uniform Harry handed him.
…
Draco found the twins’ room by stalking silently through the dark dorms one by
one. He shook his head in wonder. Not one of the doors had been locked. He
wondered briefly what the others would think when they realized they locked
their door at night. Draco shook his head. They’d cross that bridge when they
came to it. 
He found the twins in the fourth room that he searched. He smiled when he saw
that they shared a bed. They didn’t cuddle, however. One twin was almost
diagonal across the mattress, his arms and legs flung wide. The other lay on
their side with their arms and legs pulled close. If he had to guess, he bet it
was Fred sprawled out and George curled up. 
Draco climbed onto the bed with them, kneeling by the teen curled up on his
side, and pulled the hangings closed to muffle his voice. He left it cracked
toward the top so that some of the lamp light would spill inside. 
“George, Fred,” he whispered softly in the dark. “Wake up.”
The twin closest to him gave a sleepy mumble and pressed his face deeper into
the pillow. The one sprawled out curled up, mirroring his brother as he rolled
onto his side. 
“George.” Draco poked the redhead’s shoulder. He was more sure than ever that
was who lay next to him. “Wake up, George.”
A brown eye cracked open, the exact same color as their older brother Percy.
“Wha?” he slurred.
“Sorry I didn’t meet you. I was… busy. Can we meet now?” he asked gently, grey
eyes warm and earnest.
George snaked his arm out and pulled Draco down with an arm hooked around his
waist. “It’s okay. Just a dream…” the redhead soothed sweetly. He tucked Draco
against his chest, his cheek rubbing sleepily against Draco’s soft, white-blond
hair.
Draco laughed quietly. “I didn’t have a bad dream, George, but thank you. Come
on, wake up…” He wiggled around so that he faced George and ran his hand over
the redhead’s face in gentle swipes from his forehead, over his nose, and back
up. “What were you guys going to show me?”
“Show?” George’s eyes blinked slowly open once more only to close again. “Tha’s
nice.”
Draco sighed and stopped. He couldn’t imagine going back to sleep when someone
was touching him. The twins were weird. He shook the teen’s shoulder a bit more
firmly. “Yeah, what were you going to show me?”
George’s eyes opened up and squinted at him. “What time s’it?”
Draco slithered his arm up between their chests and checked his watch. He had
to squint in the low light. “Almost six-fifteen.”
“Six…” Fred groaned from behind his brother. “Really. And you're in our bed,
why?”
“I wanted to know what you were going to show me,” Draco explained patiently.
“To help me get past the portraits.”
“At six,” Fred repeated grumpily.
“Yes,” Draco said, amused. He still lay in George’s loose embrace, looking into
the teen’s sleepy eyes from only a few inches away. “What time do you usually
get up?”
“Depends,” George answered in a sleepy whisper. “Is it for a prank?”
“Trust me. It’ll be epic,” Draco promised, voice dark and low.
Fred’s head appeared above George’s shoulder, propped up by his hand. “Fine.”
He sat up and stretched, whacking his brother across the back. “Up, George.”
George grumbled, hugged Draco one last time, and sat up. “Fine. I’m up.”
Draco flashed them a winning smile, sitting up with them. “Great!”
Fred climbed out of bed and grabbed something from their trunk. Draco took note
that the trunk at least had been locked with at least three spells as far as
Draco could tell. It made him relax a little, knowing he wasn’t be seen as
strange by the others for locking their dorm door. Not that he cared what
anyone thought about him, but he’d come to realize that it sometimes caused
more problems than it was worth when they got too much negative attention. 
Fred climbed back onto the bed, maneuvering so that Draco sat between him and
George. They put their heads close to Draco’s and slowly unveiled their
treasure. 
It was a map. A very, very special map. It was… beyond anything Draco could
have conceived. It had every secret passage and everyone in the castle marked
out in real time. 
With wide yes, Draco touched the soft parchment with reverent fingers. He
wanted it badly, but he knew they’d never give it up, which made him insanely
frustrated for a brief moment before he took a deep breath. At least the map
existed at all and the twins would let him use it occasionally. He should be
grateful. 
The mental pep-talk only did so much. Draco still wanted it, but he was able to
relax his shoulders and smile at the twins. “This is brilliant.”
They nodded in unison and echoed with solemn agreement, “Brilliant.”
“How did you figure out the code words to turn it on and off?” Draco asked
curiously, eyes bright with excitement, a lock of blond hair falling across his
face.
“Well, when it’s off and you speak to it while tapping it with your wand, words
appear and talk back,” George explained.
Fred grinned. “After enough experiments, we were able to piece together clues
by the end of First-year and voila!”
“We opened the Marauder’s Map,” they said together, clearly proud of
themselves.
“Amazing.” Draco forced his hand to drop from the pages. “So what’s your
advice?”
They put their heads together and figured out a way to bypass the portraits and
get Draco to the Slytherin common room without being seen. In return, Draco
described his plan. Fred and George stared at him for a moment before breaking
into identical grins.
“Epic,” the said together, their voices one.
Just over an hour later, Draco left the twins and trotted happily out to the
pitch. Today was going to be a great day. Not only would he get his revenge, it
was also Tuesday. Tuesday was one of only two class days where they didn’t have
a class with Slytherin. The only other day that happened was Friday. 
Today they had their Potions intensive with just the Gryffindor First-years,
History of Magic and Herbology with Hufflepuff, and their Transfiguration
practical with Ravenclaw. Neville had been studying Potions hard every night,
so when they were given a quiz, he answered two out of three questions right. 
It still wasn’t an O, but it was passing. When Draco gave him a nod of
recognition, it made Neville so happy that he became even more determined to
get an O and earn his forgiveness. Hermione, of course, was the only one who
answered all three questions correctly. 
Harry felt terrible, answering only two out of the three correctly. Draco had
gotten the same score, but it was because they hadn’t been studying as much as
they could be. The rest of the class only answered one right, which was a
failing grade.
Professor Binns began his lecture almost as soon as they walked in and
concluded over an hour later with, “Another very notable moment in history
during this time, children, was the wildcat Gargoyle Strike of 1911. Now, a
wildcat strike action is a strike action undertaken by unionized workers
without union leadership’s authorization, support, or approval. This is
sometimes termed an unofficial industrial action. Wildcat strikes were the key
pressure tactic union workers would use against the unjust workforce as well as
a complacent union. The wildcats were winning during the Gargoyle Strike of
1911 when something noteworthy happened. I want you to write three inches
inferring from what I’ve told you today what that action may have been and
include an explanation supporting your hypothesis.”
They staggered out of his class groggy from listening to his ghostly voice and
in desperate need of a dictionary. Lunch was just the thing they needed to perk
themselves back up and fortunately the following two classes were more hands
on. They practiced the Fire-Making Spell in Herbology so that they would be
able to handle the Spiky Bush that they would be dealing with in their classes
next week. 
As a demonstration and to motivate the students, Professor Sprout had brought a
potted one into the class. The terrifying bush was small since it was in a pot,
and she promised the ones in the greenhouse would be twice as big. 
The potted plant stood about half their height, but it was three times as wide
and almost perfectly round. It had pale yellow spikes growing out of the thick
green leaves. Professor Sprout demonstrated its danger by approaching with a
fast, violent hand gesture. The yellow spikes were launched through the air
with horrifying speed. A quick Incendio and the spikes turned to ash before
they impaled the short, chubby woman.
In Transfiguration, they reviewed the transformation formula, which was that
the intended transformation was directly influenced by bodyweight, viciousness,
wand power, concentration, and a fifth unknown variable. Then they began to try
to transform matches into needles. It was surprisingly difficult, but Hermione
was again able to master the new spell in a single class period, much to the
rest of the class’s frustration and Harry’s shame. 
Harry wasn’t proud of his academic progress so far. He needed to do better. He
had to find time to study and practice more. He refused to be a burden to
Draco. After class, they had almost an hour before dinner, so he asked politely
if anyone wanted to join him in the library. Hermione instantly agreed. So did
Neville. 
Draco frowned thoughtfully. “Go straight there and wait for me to get you
before going down to dinner,” he decided. “I have something to do.”
Harry agreed, but Hermione bristled at Harry being ordered around.
“He can do what he wants. If you’re so worried, come with us,” she snapped and
crossed her arms firmly over her chest.
Draco stared her down, making her blush and scowl. “Harry’s not your concern,”
he said lowly. “You have your own problems to worry about, Hermione,” he
finished with brutal honesty. 
They were just into their second week of school and already the rest of the
Gryffindor First-years were beginning to avoid her like the plague. Her
reputation for being a stuck-up know-it-all was spreading. Hardly anyone except
for Neville would willingly partner with her in classes. 
Harry and Neville shifted nervously, looking back and forth between their
faces. 
Hermione glared, but she said nothing.
Draco finally moved his eyes back to Harry. “See you soon.”
Harry’s eyes dropped submissively as he answered, “Yes, Draco.”
* Good boy, * Draco praised in a whisper directly into Harry’s mind.
Harry’s head came back up, a happy flush brightening his cheeks.
Hermione complained about Draco all the way to the library until Harry was able
to distract her with their assignments. Their Magical Theory essay was due
tomorrow. Harry and Neville had only written half of it, much to Hermione’s
horror.
…
Draco made his way quickly to the owlery. He took out the treats he’d put in
his pocket and fed Hedwig some before launching her out the window with the
order to go to Remus. He’d given the man enough time to get what he needed
ready. 
Draco perched in the window as he waited for her to return and quickly
scratched out the outlines of an essay that was due tomorrow. He didn’t have to
wait long. About half an hour later, Hedwig winged back in over his head,
dropping a fist-sized box into his lap. 
With a dangerous grin, Draco carelessly shoved his essay into his bag and
immediately headed back into the castle along the route he’d memorized with the
twins early that morning. His heart thundered in his chest. Soon he’d have his
revenge. He’d make it clear there would be a heavy cost for attacking who was
his. 
His vision almost tunneled in, he was so focused on his task. Every sound,
smell, and shifting shadow registered as he moved silently through the secret
corridors and rarely-used back hallways. No portrait saw him. No ghost sensed
his presence. Draco was hunting, and he wouldn’t be stopped until he had the
blood of his prey filling his mouth.
Heart beating strong in his chest, Draco slipped out of the shadows at the door
to the Slytherin common room. A whispered password later, provided by the
devious twins of course, he was able to crack the door. Luck was with him, no
one was inside, thanks to the Felix Felicis that Remus had bought. Remus had
also provided the shrunk crate. 
Draco slipped in quickly and went to the nearest dark corner. He pulled the
nearly fist-sized wooden box out of his pocket and tapped it three times with
his wand. It expanded to almost four times its size. The soft sounds of
something moving inside of it could be heard, making Draco grin fiercely. This
next part would be tricky. It would require all of his concentration and
willpower. Draco summoned the memory of Harry floating limp, blood spilling,
face pale as death and found all the determination he needed. 
…
Harry shifted subtly on his chair. The library chairs were harder than the ones
in the classrooms or even the Great Hall. Probably to keep students who were
studying late into the night awake, but it made his butt ache fiercely. 
The sharp burn reminded him of the bed digging into his stomach and the
repeated blows that struck his burning skin, sending pain shooting up his
spine. It made him remember Draco’s tearful eyes and the worry and exhaustion
there. Made him remember his failure. 
“Harry,” Hermione hissed, annoyed. She tapped the table in front of him.
“You’re clearly tired. Let’s go eat. Dinner started nearly half an hour ago!”
Harry shook his head, keeping his face averted. He felt unexpectedly raw, his
mask slipping from his features. He pulled his transfiguration textbook closer,
lifting the muggle pencil more firmly in his hand to take more notes in his
composition notebook. He had to study. He had to get better. He had to be
strong enough to help Draco.
“Five more minutes,” Neville asked softly, trying to keep the peace. 
This was the third time he'd asked for more time and Hermione wasn’t having it,
her face painted red with frustration. She had opened her mouth to insist more
strongly that Harry put away his books and come eat when Draco strode into the
library distracting her. The blond had his hair tucked tightly behind his ears.
It was darker than normal and oily from sweat. He had dust and grime on one
cheek and across his forehead, his school robe looked as if it had been hastily
brushed off, and the tips of his short nails were dark with dirt underneath.
“What were you doing?” she demanded. It annoyed her to no end that Harry, who
just as second ago had refused to go to dinner, had immediately closed his
books.
Draco gave her a cool look, his expression hard. He deliberately didn’t answer,
instead looking to Harry and grabbing his hand. Hermione glared at the blond’s
back the whole way to dinner, ignoring Neville’s every attempt to distract her
with conversation.
…
Percy had been busy carrying out Draco’s request. Throughout the last few days,
he’d casually spread the information that Harry had needed seven healing spells
and two potions to the right people. He emphasized that, had Harry not been
minutes from the Infirmary, he’d likely have died from the fall. That meant by
the end of dinner Tuesday night everyone knew about it. 
He gave Draco a subtle nod as he ate. The blond didn’t acknowledge him in any
way and yet Percy knew with certainty that Draco had seen and understood his
signal. He smiled down into his soup, content to wait to see what the boy had
planned.
…
Draco positioned himself so that he was standing at the Great Hall doors,
supposedly waiting for Harry who had gone back to the Weasley twins to tell
them something, when the group of Slytherin Third-years began to leave the Hall
after dinner. Draco watched them with with hard, predatory eyes. 
The teens shifted with unease and unconsciously grouped even tighter together
as they walked up to the blond, their voices dropping to nervous whispers. When
it was clear that Draco was staring at Pucey, the group parted, none of the
other teens wanting to stand close to the target of that intimidating stare as
they walked past.
Pucey felt almost compelled to meet Draco’s silver-eyed stare. His face went
pale and then flushed red with defensive anger. His hands fisted at his sides
and he glared hatefully back at the younger, smaller boy. “What are you looking
at?” he spat furiously.
Draco gave a closed-mouth smile that had not an ounce of humor in it. “You
know, I heard an interesting legend earlier and it made me think of you.”
Sweat slicked Pucey’s palms, making his clenched fists feel damp. “Yeah?” he
blustered. “I don’t fucking care.” He began to stomp past.
“Hogwarts will take revenge on those who make her chosen bleed,” Draco said in
a soft, dangerous voice.
Pucey continued past, pretending he hadn’t heard.
Of course, the few students who still sat near the doors definitely had and
excited whispers began to spread across the Hall.
“Sorry, Draco,” Harry said sweetly, smiling as he returned to the blond's side.
“I’m finished.”
“It’s okay,” Draco answered, expression relaxed, the dangerous edge to his
features completely gone. He took the slightly smaller boy’s hand in his own.
“Come on.” 
…
Deep in the dungeons, the door to the Slytherin common room opened as the first
group of kids returned from dinner and triggered a timing spell Draco had
painstakingly laid according to Remus’s explicit and detailed instruction. 
Unwary and oblivious, Slytherins of all ages gathered in the nooks and crannies
of the common room. They talked about school, plots, and gossip, relaxing after
a long day. Quite a few were talking about Draco’s parting words after dinner. 
Exactly an hour after the first Slytherin had stepped into the room, shadows
began to shift in one corner of the room as an invisible box began to dissolve.
The snakes that had been trapped inside were released, spelled by Remus to
target the owner of a particular sock he’d been given. Percy’s informants
included the Hogwarts elves and it had been easy enough to get one to give him
a sock of Pucey’s with the promise it would be returned. 
A scream rent the air as a girl caught the zip of a snake across a green and
black rug. Her alarm alerted the others and more cries went up. Pucey, sitting
in a armchair in the corner with a few like-minded friends and bitching about
Draco-sodding-Malfoy, looked up to see snakes zig-zagging fast across the
floor, moving directly toward him. 
The boy was able to jerk back in his chair, mouth falling open with a cry,
before they were on him. It was that fast. They wound up his legs or launched
with surprising force and speed from the ground, latching onto his torso, arms,
thighs, and stomach before anyone could lift a wand. 
A blood curdling scream of pain and fear tore through Pucey’s throat. The bites
burned like lava, searing down to his bones, boiling his blood. He screamed
again, collapsing and thrashing with desperate terror, completely hysterical.
Other screams joined his. Students ran terrified, saving themselves. 
Only a few spells were cast at Pucey, his friends trying to help him, but their
spells did nothing. Pucey flung himself at the floor, at the coffee table, the
armchair, anything, trying to get them off, but the pain was so great he could
hardly think, could only draw breath enough to scream and wail helplessly. 
…
McGonagall walked Draco and Ron silently to the Headmaster’s Tower, looking
grimmer than ever. Neither Ron nor Draco said a word. Snape was waiting with
Dumbledore. Without explanation and without asking a single question, they took
the boys’ wands and tested them. 
Ron stood red-faced, furious he was being suspected of something he had no clue
about. Draco merely looked bored. When nothing came up besides the spells they
were learning in class, they’d been dismissed just as Pucey had been.
Snape gave Draco an intense look as he left the office. It had not been a happy
expression, almost thunderous. It made Ron sweat and feel scared, and it hadn’t
even been directed at him, but Draco had turned away easily. He didn’t give a
fuck about Snape. 
Ron gave Draco side-eyed, curious looks all they way back to the Tower, saying
only, “Sooo… Pucey’s been attacked,” when they’d reached the portrait.
Draco said nothing, staring at him through almost animalistic grey eyes.
Ron backed off immediately. “Not that the punk didn’t deserve it or that you
had anything to do with it,” he muttered. “Just saying.” He sighed in relief
when Draco’s gaze left him. 
Hermione was waiting for them in the common room. So was most of the House.
They had known something serious was up when McGonagall had appeared like the
personification of Death and asked for Ron and Draco to follow her
immediately. 
Ron rubbed the back of his head and gave a nervous grin. “Dumbledore wanted to
check our wands. Seems Pucey’s been attacked and since I accused him of hurting
Harry…” 
Of course everyone clamored to know what had happened, but Ron didn’t know any
more than that. The professors hadn’t said, but he could guess it had been bad
from their serious expressions.
Hermione slunk close to the blond’s side while everyone was peppering Ron with
questions. It wasn’t hard to do. Draco had melded into the background as Ron
took the spot light. Harry stood at his side, expression calm, although that
didn’t reassure Hermione any. Draco could do no wrong in Harry’s eyes, and it
pissed her off that even Neville seemed to think Draco was something special.
“You had something to do with it, didn’t you?” she whispered in a tense hiss. 
Draco’s eyes flashed as he went from calm to angry in a second. “What’s you’re
problem with me, Hermione?”
She flushed, her chin jutting up as her voice rose to match his. “You came back
all dirty before dinner.”
Draco began to yell, gaining the attention of others around them. “So that
makes me guilty? My wand came up clean! That should be good enough for you.” He
took as step closer and glared dangerously as she held her ground. “I don’t
have to explain myself to you or bullies like Raul! You shame the Longbottom
name by accusing me without any proof!”
It was a deliberately low blow. She flinched. 
Draco held tightly to Harry’s hand and stormed away. He wasn’t really mad, of
course. He’d just needed to put her in her place. He admired her mind, but she
was pushing against the wrong person. Besides, rumors of their fight would
spread and hopefully that would make other people hesitate to accuse him.
- love adoration pride -
Draco smiled as he shut the door safely behind him. A quick spell made sure no
one else could get in for as long as the spell lasted. He pulled his boy
against his chest as he leaned back against the door and kissed Harry’s lips
with nearly brutal force, making them red and swollen.
Harry’s whole body throbbed with heat. His butt ached with every hard beat of
his heart and it made his heart want to fly out of his chest. He stared up at
Draco with complete adoration. “You’re amazing, Draco.”
Draco preened under the praise, heart thundering as he finally let his triumph
free. He walked Harry backward, hands tight in the boy’s black, messy hair. His
mouth bit and sucked at Harry’s neck and collar, knowing what it would do to
Harry. 
- desire need pleasure - boomed through their bond, making Draco bare his teeth
in a fierce grin.
Harry let out the most delicious gasps and moans. He moved backward, obedient
and responsive, collapsing back on the bed with Draco on top. Draco immediately
began driving his hips into Harry’s with slow, bruising force. 
Harry cried out softly as his ass was driven hard into the bed. Pain and
pleasure exploded from his center as Draco pressed hard against his crotch and
rubbed his hips up and down in a slow, maddening rhythm. Whimpering, Harry
opened his thighs, welcoming more of the pleasure-pain. I belong to Draco,
resonated through his whole being as he stared unblinking up at the dominating
blond.
Draco growled and bent down, pressing Harry even harder against the bed.
Something that had been coiled in his chest finally began to unwind. Harry had
been threatened and Draco had finally been able to act to make him safe. Pucey
would think hard before ever attacking Harry again. Harry was safe and cared
for and his. 
Triumph and a hungry desire rose up from deep in his gut, nearly choking Draco
with the urge to howl in glee. His hands slipped between them and open their
belts. His hips never stopped rocking. He unsnapped their buttons and unzipped
them so that their stiff cocks could rub together. The bite of their metal
zippers stung their skin with each firm rock forward, making Draco's grin wider
and Harry’s gasps sweeter.
Harry’s whole body began to rock with Draco’s thrusts. His hair splayed messily
about his head as he clung to Draco’s shoulders. Draco stared hungrily down
into his eyes as Harry panted and moaned, limp under Draco's possessive,
glowing gaze.
“You’re mine,” Draco growled, hoarse and breathless and almost there already.
Heat burned through him, his blood thundering through his veins. Harry was his!
His hands reached forward and wrapped around Harry’s throat, the collar
pressing into his palms. 
Harry’s eyes went impossibly wide,- DESIRE need trustlove -and his mouth fell
open, wet and red. A gasped wheeze escaped his constricted throat as Harry’s
arms fell limp, hands curled peacefully by his head, submitting to Draco’s
force. 
Draco put his mouth over Harry’s, their lips barely touching. He sucked in
Harry’s last exhale, taking it into his lungs, and then clenched his hands
harder until Harry couldn’t breathe at all. 
Harry’s face instantly went red - euphoria painpleasure LUST. Draco continued
to stare unblinking into his eyes with that look he got of absolute, silver-
eyed focus and Harry couldn’t breathe, was under Draco’s complete control, was
going to cum, his vision tunneling, oh god yours Draco forever please yes
yours.His dick and butt throbbed as Draco continued to rock hard and slow
against him, a painful-pleasurable push-pull of strong, thin hips.
The room was practically swirling with their magic, the air damp and heavy like
a swamp. Draco’s hips rubbed hard against Harry’s, their skin warm and wet with
sweat. He thrilled in the way that Harry made no move to escape or breathe,
just lay under his power, trusting and safe and god Draco was gonna cum so hard
all over his boy… 
Harry held his body open and didn’t even twitch to fight Draco’s hold until his
body arched involuntarily, green eyes rolling back. Draco watched, hands around
a slender throat, enraptured as Harry’s beautiful eyes went unfocused, the boy
beginning to lose consciousness. 
It was all too good. Harry felt like he was coming apart at the seems.
Completely under Draco’s control, his lungs screaming for air, his eyes blind,
intensifying the sensation of Draco rubbing against his dick oh god it felt so
good; the sharp sting of their zippers even better, Harry felt the sparks build
under his skin, at the tip of his dick, in his nipples, deep in his gut… His
mind fuzzing, going dark, body spasming as a wave of pure ecstasy crashed over
him, Draco god YES!,sending him soaring into lightening-streaked darkness… 
Harry's eyes fluttered mostly closed, only a sliver of white remaining, as he
blacked out and went limp. Draco gasped, excited and so fucking close to
cumming, as he felt Harry’s hot cum squirt against his skin. Their magic
throbbed and trembled, needing Draco’s orgasm to be complete. 
Grunting, growling, he released Harry’s throat, snaked his arms under Harry’s
back, and hooked his hands on his shoulders, driving Harry’s body downward,
holding him in place as Draco thrust with sudden, brutal speed against Harry’s
unconscious body. Harry’s head rolled limply, Draco’s dick sliding in the warm,
slick Harry had produced, and Draco choked out a low cry as a wave of pure
pleasure crashed down on top him, soaking him from head to toe. 
His back arched away from Harry’s body, only their hips touching… * MINE! * he
howled triumphantly before cumming all over Harry’s stomach. Magic punched
outward in an intangible wave, absorbing into the walls.
Dazed, he slid down Harry’s body to his knees, his head pillowed on Harry’s
splayed thigh, eyes half-lidded and hardly coherent as he panted and shuddered,
mini-explosions continuing to fire through his core. His pants hung open, his
skin wet and cooling with their mixed cum, otherwise he was fully dressed.
Draco gently stroked Harry’s calf, listening as the boy wheezed in soft,
shallow breaths. He shuddered knowing without seeing it that Harry’s throat
would bruise if he didn’t heal it. When Harry came to, it would ache and burn
like hell. It made Draco’s hips jerk reflexively, one last thrust against
Harry’s leg at the knowledge that Harry would want the bruises to stay… would
want it to swell so that it would hurt every time he swallowed… as a reminder
of Draco’s power and lust… would be sad when he forced him to heal it.
“Mine,” he whispered once more, content and purring, nuzzling against the
inside of the boy’s thigh.
Eventually, he rose to his knees, folding himself over Harry’s damp crotch and
pat gently at Harry’s cheeks. The boy began to take deeper breaths and his eyes
fluttered open. Harry's thighs flexed and Draco climbed to his feet, leaning
over and bracing his hands on either side of Harry’s head. Harry smiled sweetly
up at him, foggy with pleasure and warmth, as Draco bent to pepper his face
with butterfly kisses, nuzzling and purring and praising him.
- contentment adoration - “Yours,” Harry whispered unprompted, voice wrecked
and hoarse.
Draco hummed happily and licked and nibbled at Harry’s jaw.
…
Adrian opened his eyes to see the white of the Infirmary. A touch on his hand
made him flinch and turn his head to see his mother. She sat beside him, dark
eyes solemn. He looked up past her to see his father standing at her side,
staring down at him, dressed in his dark robes with his hair slicked back. He
was not happy. 
“Father…” he croaked.
“I’d ask you what you’ve done, but it’s obvious,” Mr. Pucey said softly and
Adrian shivered in dread. “You’ve challenged someone before you were ready and
now you reap the consequences.”
“Lord Malfoy has turned his attention to our affairs,” Ms. Pucey explained.
“We’ve already lost several good clients.”
Adrian bowed his head in shame. “I’m sorry, Father, Mother. I acted rashly. I…
I just… Malfoy acts so fucking smug, like he doesn’t know what a disgrace he is
to the Cause… and, and Potter was such an easy target, weak and…”
“And guarded by a dragon,” Mr. Pucey hissed, interrupting his son’s babble. He
leaned down, putting his face close. “You will stay away from Malfoy and
Potter. You will not act on your own again. Or I will bring you home.
Permanently.”
Adrian shuddered. He wanted to cry, but he couldn’t. He’d be Crucio-ed for sure
if he did. “Y-yes, F-Father…” he managed to stutter and closed his eyes to
escape the pain of the bites that still burned as well as his parents’ painful
attention.
…
Pucey was missing from class the next day and Slytherin House as a whole was
subdued and withdrawn. They stayed well clear of Draco and Harry. Even the
First-years who took classes with them kept their head down and mouths shut,
even Nott. Of course, the other Houses were confused and suspicious, but Draco
merely shrugged when questions came his way. 
“Must’ve got what was coming to him. Everyone knows Harry’s special. Hogwarts
must think so, too.” 
Of course, when no one else was looking, Draco would give the Slytherins the
most chilling smile. 
…
It took three days for Pucey to return to class. With his return, information
began to leak out of Slytherin House into the rest of the school. 
Pusey had been attacked by snakes! Nine of them. (Harry needed seven spells and
two potions to be healed.) Professor Snape had been alerted to a student of his
House in mortal danger and had arrived quickly enough to rush the teen to the
Infirmary. Without immediate care, he would have died from snake venom. (If
Harry hadn’t been minutes from the Infirmary, he’d have died.) 
Rumors spread fast and furious. The upperclassmen from the other three Houses
were able to look up several instances where spells embedded in Hogwarts’ wards
and foundation spells had attacked intruders without direct manipulation.
However, in none of those instances had a student been targeted. It was
concluded that it was possible Hogwarts had been behind the brutal attack, but
it was also possible it had been someone else. 
All eyes turned to Draco as the most viable suspect. Draco had clearly warned,
or perhaps even threatened, Pucey that night and he was obviously crazy
protective about Harry. Plus, Draco came from a rumored Dark family (not so
rumored for those who knew without a doubt the Malfoys were Dark). On the other
hand, Draco was a First-year. Dark family or not, could he really do that? He
wasn’t showing extraordinary skill in classes, not like that Pleasant girl; he
seemed to be an average student overall. 
Draco didn’t act guilty of anything, either. He wasn’t strutting or acting
suspicious. He’d been interested when the topic had been brought up initially
and then dismissive after a few days. He was clearly busy with other things.
Like studying and practicing as a reserve Seeker for Gryffindor. 
He’d also been cleared by the Headmaster, although that didn’t necessarily mean
anything. It was clear by the Headmaster’s speech after Harry’s fall that
Dumbledore cared about Harry a great deal and had been very upset by the
‘accident’. Dumbledore had also favored Gryffindor from the moment he’d become
Headmaster. Maybe he’d let revenge against a Slytherin slide.
… And so the rumors continued.
Chapter end.
Sorry I've been off line. I haven't lost interest. I'm just dealing with
serious health problems and natural disasters. I promise I will continue to
work on this story in my spare time. Hopefully I'll be able to update more
regularly again soon. I'd love your feedback and any well wishes you can spare.
I miss you all.
***** The End of September *****
The_End_of_September
Severus stepped near silently into the Headmaster’s darkened office.
“Severus, my boy, any new leads?” Dumbledore asked quietly.
It was late, the Headmaster’s office cloaked in shadows and stillness.
Dumbledore stood out the most in the room with his glowing white hair and
beard. He sounded tired and yet alert. Severus stepped silently up to the
massive desk and placed his hands at the small of his back.
“The snakes were all non-poisonous species. They’d been cursed to create an
intense burning sensation and illness with every bite. They had also been
spelled to attack a single target, likely from something of Pucey’s - an item
of clothing or even blood or hair. The curse would have degraded over time.
Pucey was in no real danger of death, only acute suffering. Malfoy has neither
the skill nor the means to collect the snakes and then curse them. However, the
spell I found on the door is well within Malfoy’s ability. It is my belief that
someone provided the boy with the supplies and instructions to set the trap.
How he managed to get around the portraits and the password to the common room
is still unclear.”
Dumbledore said nothing for a long minute. His face was in shadow so Severus
couldn’t get a clear look at his expression. However, his tone was grave when
he spoke. “Did you look into his mind, Severus? Do you know for certain he is
guilty?”
Severus tilted his head slightly as he considered his answer. “If you are
speaking of Pucey, yes. He was guilty. He did not intend to murder Potter, but
he did intend great bodily harm. As for the Malfoy brat… Lucius must have
trained him. There were the beginnings of Occlumency shields in his mind. I
dared not try and surpass them for fear of alerting the brat to my ability.
Weasley was genuinely oblivious.”
Dumbledore sighed tiredly once more, settling deeper into the dark as he leaned
back in his chair. “Thank you, Severus.”
Severus waited for further comment or instruction. When none was forthcoming,
he turned on his heel and left the old wizard to his thoughts. Personally, he
was of two minds regarding the whole incident.
On one hand, he had to admire Draco’s cunning. His ability to formulate the
plan, contact the people he needed to make it happen, and then execute it
successfully had been flawless. There was no legal way for the Headmaster to
prove it had been him. Just as there had been no legal means to prove it had
been Pucey. He also admired the fact that Draco would do whatever it took to
protect Harry.
On the other hand… Severus felt cold. He knew without a doubt that this boy of
eleven years was capable of murder. Whoever had helped them had made sure the
snakes would harm but not kill. Had that person not taken that step, Pucey
could well be dead right now. Beyond that, the attack had been designed to
leave severe psychological damage in its wake. Children had witnessed the
brutal attack and had been traumatized. Some would still not enter the common
room and were being housed in guest quarters temporarily until their fear could
be calmed.
It was clear to Severus: Draco was not a child in the way people thought of
children. He was a killer. It was dangerous housing him with other children. It
was dangerous leaving Harry in his care. However, war was brewing on the
horizon. Realistically speaking, a killer was exactly what they needed to end
the Dark Lord for good and keep Harry alive. Severus would just have to remain
watchful and protect the children as much as he could.
                                       …
Draco was very careful to maintain an aloof demeanor the week following Pucey’s
brutal attack. He made sure to craft the perfect amount of ambivalence so that
there was never enough certainty to get him in trouble and equally not enough
doubt to erase their fear of him. Between the scars seen on his back, the
stories of his gruesome treatment for the potion burn (and his lack of
screaming), and Pucey’s attack, Draco was quite pleased with the respect and
fear he had garnered. It put a small spring in his step that he couldn’t hide
completely.
Besides his victorious re-claiming of Harry, he’d only indulged in two small
celebrations. For the first, he had softly bumped Percy’s shoulder the day the
details of the attack had finally begun spreading to the rest of the school.
Draco had given the redhead a meaningful look, lips curled in a subtle smirk.
Percy had shaken his head, but Draco could tell his shoulders sat straighter.
Victorious, Draco had hummed happily the rest of that night, knowing he’d put
the teen’s mind at ease and had proven his ability to protect who was his.
For the second, he had written a letter to Remus.
Remus,
Thank you. You’re amazing at explaining stuff. Your tips on that spell were
really useful. I’m definitely going to pass the test now. Harry’s feeling much
better, too. Actually, the kid who our friend thinks did it was attacked a few
days ago in the Slytherin common room. There’s rumors Hogwarts did it to punish
him for nearly killing Harry. Do you think that’s possible? Whoever did it, I
don’t think the kid will be hurting anyone anytime soon. The whole school will
think twice about hurting Harry now. Some people even think I did it. Can you
believe it? How could an eleven-year-old manage something like that? Well, at
least its made people back off Harry and me. Even the bullies in Gryffindor I
was telling you about. So you don’t have to worry about us anymore. We’re safe
now. Thanks again, Remus. You were really helpful. We’ll write again soon,
Draco
                                       …
Remus had been in a state of constant anxiety until Draco’s letter had come
winging to him on Hedwig’s silent wings. He smiled down at the unusually long
note. Harry was known to write a lot; Draco usually kept things short and
concise. He could practically feel the boy’s victorious exhilaration in the
rambling words. He could also sense the boy’s gratitude and care. Remus almost
felt like preening. The tension from the last few days fell from his shoulders.
The bully had been put in his place, Harry was now safer than ever, and no one
had gotten killed. They had won.
Remus leaned back in his chair, tipping it onto its back legs as he laughed. He
wished James, Sirius, and Peter were here to… The thought brought his joy
crashing to a halt. His chair fell with a loud thud back to all fours. He
steeled his heart as pain rushed in. The urge to tip his head back and howl was
strong, and he shook his head hard to clear it. He lifted the letter and
brought it to his nose, inhaling deeply. He had a new pack now. Draco was
pleased with him and Harry was safe. That’s all that mattered.
As the pain bled away, Remus stood with purpose and walked to the kitchen
stove. He pulled his wand from his pocket and lit the burners. With gold-
flecked amber eyes, he set the letter on the flame and watched it burn.
                                       …
Just as he’d told Remus, the other students began to give Draco a lot more
space, which gave him plenty of room to spy on Quirrell. He hadn’t forgotten
for a moment the threat the professor posed. Every DADA class, every time he
and Harry came too close in the halls, Harry’s head would spike with a dull
pain originating from his scar that wouldn’t fade until distance was put
between them.
Draco slipped away from the group to spy on him as much as possible and
borrowed the map as much as the twins would let him. He watched Quirrell’s
footsteps, made note of the places he visited most frequently, the people he
talked to most often. He seemed as innocent as Percy claimed, but Draco wasn’t
fooled. Then he asked to borrow the map overnight.
The twins had resisted at first, but Draco had managed to convince them,
swearing he only wanted to see something and didn’t want to bother them in the
middle of the night to check the map.
Fred handed the precious parchment over with an unusually stern look. “Don’t
you dare go sneaking off with it. Stay in your room like you promised.”
“Or we’ll be out for blood,” George finished the threat. “We can’t afford to
have it confiscated.”
“I swear,” Draco promised, meeting their eyes. He would never endanger such an
important asset. He just wanted to see what Quirrell did throughout the night.
Just as promised, he curled up against the headboard of his and Harry’s bed,
curtains cracked to let in the lamp light. Harry’s head sat heavy with sleep in
his lap. He stroked the soft hair under his hand and settled in to watch.
Sleep tugged at him as the first few hours rolled by, but Draco pushed through
that easily. He was obsessed with discovering the man’s secret, with
understanding the exact nature of the threat he posed. Nearing two in the
morning, Draco perked up, registering that something was happening.
Quirrell’s name… It began to blur at the edges. Excess ink began to darken
around the letters in the man’s name, as if it were bleeding. Draco stared,
unblinking, as Quirrell’s name became such a mess of ink that it became
illegible for nearly an hour. During that hour, his dot remained smack in the
middle of the forbidden third-floor corridor.
The ink bled away a little after three, Quirrell’s name became clear again, as
the man returned to his quarters at last.
“He’s after whatever Dumbledore’s protecting,” Draco whispered, fingers
clenched in Harry’s hair.
Should he tell Dumbledore Quirrell was snooping around? Dumbledore had to know
someone kept going to the third-floor corridor, right? Maybe he even knew it
was Quirrell already. But what the hell had happened with his name? In the
short time that Draco had known about the map, he’d never seen anything like
that.
As for Dumbledore, there was no benefit yet to tipping his hand and admitting
he knew more than he should. It would only force Draco into explaining how he
knew stuff. He didn’t want to lose such powerful advantages so early in the
game.
Besides, Dumbledore was actively protecting whatever it was, so Draco had to
trust that those defenses would hold. In the meantime, he still had to figure
out Quirrell’s connection to Voldemort because there was one there beyond a
shadow of a doubt. If Draco played his hand just right, he could maybe get some
information about Voldemort’s location, current condition, or maybe even some
of Voldemort’s weaknesses.
Draco kept watch the rest of the night, but Quirrell stayed in his rooms
unmoving. Harry began stirring just before six and Draco smiled warmly as the
boy pushed himself to his knees to face him.
Draco reached forward, cupping Harry’s sweet face, and left butterfly kisses
across his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, and eyelids. “Good morning, Harry,”
he murmured.
- pleasure love warmth - “Morning, Draco.”
Draco deactivated the map and tucked it away. Harry knew about it and what it
did, and he knew of course that Quirrell was bad due to the headaches and that
Draco was keeping an eye on things, but he didn’t need to know about Quirrell
trying to get whatever Dumbledore was hiding or about the way his name bled
into a glob like it had. There was nothing Harry could do about either and
Draco wasn’t going to worry him unnecessarily.
Harry chose their clothes for the day and they got dressed quietly so as not to
disturb Neville. They were just about to head to the common room to get some
studying done when Neville sat up with a yawn and blinked sleepy brown eyes.
“Good morning…” he said softly.
“Good morning, Neville,” Harry greeted. He gave him a worried look. “I’m sorry.
Did we wake you?”
“No. I, uh, wanted to ask you something. Before you, um, left.” A slight blush
dusted the other boy’s cheeks. His hands tangled together in a show of nerves.
“Um, I was, um, wondering if you would come to d-dinner with me tonight, here
in the, um, common room to celebrate H-Hermione’s b-birthday…” he trailed off
into a whisper, eyes pleading.
Draco considered the request. For the last week, since their fight in the
common room, Draco and Hermione had taken to pretending the other wasn’t there,
even if they were walking next to each other or sitting across from each other
at meals.
“I-I haven’t r-really…” Neville stuttered quickly, clearly taking Draco’s
thoughtful silence as reluctance or refusal, “tried to, um, do a birthday for
someone else before. H-Hermione wasn’t a-adopted until last, uh, December, so
this is the first b-birthday I’ve been able to, um, celebrate with her and I w-
want it to be special because she, um, really made me feel s-special on my b-
birthday in July…”
Harry gave an excited smile. “My birthday is in July, too. July 31st.” He
glanced at Draco for confirmation. He’d had six birthdays so far and it still
felt unreal that he’d even have one like everyone else.
Neville’s eyes widened and he smiled, some of his nerves falling away. “Mine’s
July 30th.”
Draco shook his head fondly at the two smiling boys. He put his hand on top of
Harry’s head and ruffled his hair, saying, “We’d love to join you, Neville.
Hermione and I may not always get along, but we’re friends.”
Neville’s eyes went wide once more. “T-Thank you, Draco!”
Draco inclined his head and tugged Harry to the door. “I’ll leave the details
to you, then.”
“O-Of course! I’ll make sure everything is ready!” Neville called as Harry
pulled the door shut behind them.
Draco asked Harry to keep him awake throughout the day and the boy dutifully
poked and prodded the blond when it looked like Draco’s eyes were getting too
heavy. It wasn’t really the ideal time to try and make-up with Hermione, but
when was life ever ideal anyway? Grumpy and grumbling, Draco nonetheless
arrived in the common room dressed in what Harry had picked out: a silk, white
shirt and blue blazer with red cuffs that was tailored to fit him perfectly.
Harry had also dressed up. He’d chosen his black lace, high-heeled shoes,
thigh-high silk socks with slender semi-elastic bands encircling his thighs to
hold them up, black pleated shorts, dark blue shirt, black vest, and thin bow
tie with the loops hanging nearly halfway down his chest.
Draco reached out to thumb the line on Harry’s soft thigh where skin ended and
silk began. “You look amazing,” he whispered, voice husky, eyes heavy.
Harry blushed prettily. “Thank you, Draco.” He looked up through his long
lashes. “You look amazing, too.”
Draco gave a soft laugh and took his boy by the hand, leading him to the common
room.
Neville and Hermione were already there. Neville had pulled a table in front of
the fire and covered it with white tablecloth. He pushed four chairs up to it.
They didn’t match of course, some were higher than others, but it was cozy.
Hermione looked up at them in surprise when she saw them come down. She’d
thought they had already gone to dinner and it would just be her and Neville.
Her eyes grew even wider when she saw that they were dressed up. “Harry! You
look… Wow!” she exclaimed, cheeks red.
Draco smirked as Harry smiled happily.
“Thank you. You look nice, too, Hermione. Happy birthday,” he said politely,
giving the girl a graceful bow.
Neville blushed in shame, wishing he’d thought to dress up. He’d been so
focused on dinner, he hadn’t even thought to put on his dress robes. He glanced
at Hermione out of the corner of his eye and thought maybe it was okay that he
hadn’t dressed up because Hermione hadn’t either and he knew she was sensitive
about being different or the odd-one out. They both wore comfortable sweaters;
Neville in his school slacks, Hermione in a knee-length skirt. Hermione had
also pulled her hair back into a low ponytail, revealing more of her face than
she normally did.
“Happy birthday, Hermione,” Draco echoed and gave a half-bow that was just as
graceful as Harry’s if not as deep.
Hermione was too surprised to answer.
Neville beamed happily at them. “Thank you for coming. Have a seat.”
Hermione and Neville were already sitting across from each other, so Draco and
Harry separated and sat in the remaining chairs. As soon as they were sitting,
four soups and sets of silverware appeared before them.
“I spoke to the House Elves,” Neville confessed.
“It’s my favorite,” Hermione murmured, carefully lifting the spoon.
“I think that’s going to be a theme tonight,” Draco told her dryly, a smirk
curling the corners of his mouth.
Hermione ducked her head, smiling. “True.”
They ate mostly quietly. They shared a few murmured comments about school work,
but that was about it. Halfway through the main course, Draco rolled his eyes.
There was a huge elephant in the room and Draco was sick of avoiding it.
“So, Hermione, what did you usually do for your birthday before coming to
Hogwarts?” He met her surprised eyes with a serious stare.
A heavy silence fell around them before Hermione straightened her shoulders. “I
didn’t have many friends, so my parents would usually take me on a vacation for
a few days. I had such good grades, I could always make up any work from school
later. We’d go to France or Spain. Somewhere in Europe anyway.” She spoke in a
strong voice, but her lips trembled and her eyes grew wet. “They were really
busy, you know. Because they were both doctors, so traveling for my birthday
was always pretty special. They’d be in such good moods and tease me and stuff.
They… they thought me pretty odd, I guess, but… I think they loved me.”
“Of course they loved you,” Neville spoke fiercely, all nervousness gone. “They
were your parents.”
Hermione gave him a wobbly smile. “We… We were all pretty surprised when the
Ministry came and said I was a Muggleborn. They evaluated us for a month and
decided my parents wouldn’t be able to provide an environment that would
nurture my magical development. They… They were made to forget me and I… I was
spelled to forget their names and address… so I wouldn’t be tempted to try and
go back. They couldn’t erase them completely from my mind, though, because that
would be too damaging, so… I still remember them a bit. Things like traveling
for my birthday, anyway…”
“How’d you end up with the Longbottoms?” Harry asked quietly. He could tell she
needed to talk about it, but he didn’t want to make her feel like he was
pushing. “If you don’t mind my asking?”
Hermione shook her head to tell him it was okay. “I was kept at the Ministry.
In an apartment there. People came and gave me tests for a week or two. Health,
magic, intelligence, personality… I guess to make a report that potential
families could review. I was interviewed a few times. Madam Longbottom was one
of the ones to come interview me. She must have liked something about me and
put in a bid for my adoption. So did another family, but I…” She cast Neville
an affectionate look. “I liked Neville. He was so shy and concerned about me,
so I agreed to the Longbottom’s bid. They… They cast a spell on me and Madam
Longbottom… So I’d feel at home with them. It’s like… Nothing was familiar to
me, but it felt like home… They felt like family.”
Neville gave her a big happy smile. “I’m so glad you picked us,” he said
earnestly. “I-It was hard before you came, but you… You made everything better.
I-I really love you, Hermione.”
Hermione sniffed and came around the table to hug Neville tightly. “I really
love you, too, Neville.”
Harry smiled at them, - happiness - sparkling through the bond.
Hermione pulled away from Neville and wiped at her eyes. She looked over to
Draco. “Thanks for coming, Draco. I know… we don’t always get along…”
Draco shook his head, cutting her off. “We get along fine. You’re a brilliant
witch, Hermione. Sometimes you don’t understand what’s between Harry and me.
We’ve been through some pretty tough times, too, and that’s made us different,
but I don’t expect you or anyone else to understand that. I just wish sometimes
you’d trust me a little more. I’m your friend.”
Tearing up again, she gave him a big smile. Besides Neville, Harry and Draco
were her first ever friends. “I’ll try and remember that.”
Draco tilted his head, mouth crocked in a half-smile. “Good. Now lets have some
birthday dessert. It’s my favorite part.”
Neville and Harry giggled while Hermione laughed.
                                       …
Draco slept like a rock, making up for the lack of sleep the day before. Harry
woke him up thirty minutes before class and he still felt groggy. They didn’t
bother with breakfast, instead getting dressed and heading to their first
class. Low-level anxiety thrummed through the bond throughout the day.
Gryffindor’s official Quidditch Try-outs were at seven that night. Draco stuck
closer to Harry’s side than normal, reassuring him that he’d do fine.
It was Oliver’s first year as captain and he decided to open up each position
on the team. At first, the others were pretty upset, feeling like their hard-
earned place was in jeopardy, but Oliver told them that if they worked hard
then they had nothing to worry about since they had more experience.
As it stood, they had last year’s Beaters, Fred and George, Oliver as Keeper
and Captain, and one Chaser from last year, Angelina Johnson. Alicia Spinnet
was trying out for Chaser and had played as a reserve Chaser the year before.
Then there was Harry and Draco, of course, who had been recommended as Seeker
and reserve Seeker by Oliver and Professor McGonagall. That left them with the
third Chaser spot that had to be filled, while all the other positions need to
be safeguarded from someone winning it out from under them.
Just over fifty kids showed up to try-out. Oliver had everyone run a mile,
complete fifteen sprints, and perform various difficult maneuvers on a broom.
Those that handled quaffles or bludgers also had to prove their arm strength
and accuracy. Either no one else thought they had the skill to be Seeker or
they were afraid to challenge Harry and Draco because no one else applied for
the position. Draco and Harry were set loose against each other.
Try-outs came to a halt as the Gryffindors stared in awe. Draco and Harry were
clearly not holding back at all. Dangerous dives, rolls, and feints - the two
boys battled each other for the Snitch, almost catching it several times, only
to be knocked off course by the other. Eventually Harry’s hand once again
closed over the golden ball. It was Draco who crashed into him this time. Their
watchers tensed, expecting a fight to break out in the heat of the moment, but
soon realized that Draco was rubbing Harry’s hair, congratulating him.
In the end, everyone kept their positions and Alicia was made an official
Chaser along with Second-year Katie Bell. Reserve players were named and told
to make it to at least three morning practices and one evening practice or be
in danger of losing their spot. As for the starters, they would have practice
five mornings and three evenings a week.
Sweaty, dirty, and drunk on endorphins, the group of fourteen Quidditch players
chanted battle songs and cheers, arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders as
they celebrated becoming an official team. They spilled into the common room
and the twins snuck off to grab butterbeers and snacks from the kitchen. An
impromptu party started, someone producing a radio and playing the Wizarding
Wireless.
Draco, slouched on the couch, one arm across the back as he smiled at the
silliness. He had to send mental reassurances as Harry was pulled into dancing
with their new, rowdy teammates. * You’re doing good, Harry. You’re making
everyone happy, * he whispered into Harry’s mind as worried green eyes locked
onto his.
The -guilt uncertainty - that began to bubble up through the the bond slowly
fizzled out to be replaced by - happy embarrassment.
                                       …
Three days later the twenty-third of September arrived. The Autumn equinox,
Mabon, when day and night, light and dark, were in perfect balance for a brief
moment before darkness began to rise in supremacy. It was the first of three
harvest festivals. Andromeda and Ted performed the celebrations and respected
the Cycle, but not with the depth of true belief the way the Malfoys did.
Narcissa and Lucius, of course, tried to pass on that belief to Draco and
Harry.
Draco could acknowledge the power invoked by their rituals on the Holy Days,
but he still wasn’t particularly religious. He believed in his own power above
all else, so he fell more along the lines of Andromeda and Ted. Harry, on the
other hand, had no trouble believing in a power greater than himself and had
embraced the Pagan religion more earnestly. Therefore, Draco inquired of Percy
how celebrations were handled at Hogwarts.
Percy glanced around the busy hallway at Draco’s innocent question. None of the
students around them seemed to have heard, too busy making their way to the
Great Hall for lunch. Percy gently grabbed Draco’s arm, pulling him toward an
empty classroom.
Draco let himself be guided, mentally giving Harry the instructions to stay
close to the others and save him a seat.
Percy pushed up his glasses and gave Draco a curious look. “Since you weren’t
raised in the Wizarding world, I didn’t think you’d be Pagan.”
Draco shrugged. “I’m not really, but Harry practices.”
Percy leaned against a desk. Draco mirrored him, placing one foot outside
Percy’s right foot and the other on the floor between the teen’s long legs.
Percy had that thoughtful look that he sometimes got when he was trying to
understand something complicated.
“We have two weeks off for Yule and a week off for Ostara, the Spring Solstice,
to return to our families, but there are no official celebrations at Hogwarts
besides feasts days on both Samhain and the Winter Solstice, which most still
call Christmas. Many witches and wizards have adapted a weird blend of the
Pagan and Christian faiths. Most families that I know of don't attend church
regularly, but they don’t identify themselves as Pagan, either. True Paganism
isn’t socially acceptable. It’s believed to lead to the Dark as it was the Dark
families who resisted the conversion to Christianity. They continued to
practice the Old Ways and often lashed out at Christians, which triggered the
Witch Burnings that turned the Church against magic-users in general.”
Draco didn’t really understand all of what Percy was saying, but he did have a
question. “Your family holds small festivals on the Holy Days.”
“Yes, most witches and wizards still have Pagan traditions and rituals. It’s a
part of our magical history, but they still mostly identify as Christian. It
depends on each individual family where they fall on the Pagan to Christian
scale, some are more Pagan, some more Christian in terms of their practices.
It’s rare to find either true Pagans or true Christians anymore really.”
Draco thought of being tied to a bed with Latin being chanted over him as he
was burned and tortured for being demonic. He definitely didn’t believe in the
Christian god. He’d seen nothing to validate that belief. On the other hand, he
had experienced the power invoked in the deep woods, so if he had to choose,
he’d definitely say he was Pagan.
On the whole, completing the rituals didn’t matter to him one way or the other.
It wouldn’t change anything. Harry, however, had grown very devoted. He’d found
peace and solace in the rituals. It comforted him to know that they were a part
of something bigger, connected and interdependent to all life. Comforted him to
know that he was a part of that web just as all living things were.
It infuriated Draco. Would the world that Harry took such joy in ever stop
forcing Draco to have to prove to Harry that he wasn’t a freak, wasn’t bad?
Harry was submissive and gay and Pagan. Things that the world would reject and
scorn him for. It made Draco’s hatred for society burn deeper and brighter. It
made him want to clear the board and create a society that would welcome all
that Harry was.
Draco wasn’t stupid. He didn’t have that power, and clearing the board would
only devastate Harry. Harry was forever attached to people and things. Instead,
Draco would have to see about changing the board he did have to play with.
“What are you thinking?” Percy asked quietly, fascinated by the look of intense
concentration on Draco’s face.
Draco lifted his eyes, looking up through a thin lock of blond hair that had
fallen from behind his ears. “Weighing Harry’s social favor against how much it
would cost to make it public that he’s Pagan…”
Percy’s eyes widened and offered. “I don’t think Harry being Pagan will change
peoples minds about it. Not while he's still so young. They’ll think he’s being
influenced, probably by the Malfoys.”
Draco nodded, clearly unhappy. “The Malfoy name is in good standing right now
with the public, but Lucius garnered a lot of heat during the war. If it comes
out he’s raising us as Pagans, people will remember their suspicions. So…” He
pressed off the desk and stood in front of Percy. Now that his decision had
been made, he looked confident again. The regret that had shaded his eyes was
gone. “So we’ll have to keep it mostly secret for now. I’ll have to convince
Harry he’s not bad. Again. But he’ll be okay. At least until I can figure out a
way to change what people think about it.”
Percy bowed his head, in awe over this boy’s determination and utter confidence
that he could change the world. “I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
Draco reached forward and gently stroked Percy’s arm from shoulder to elbow
before turning and slipping out of the room. He didn’t head toward the Great
Hall, however. Instead he hurried to the owlery to pen a quick note before
rushing back down to rejoin Harry.
Hermione rolled her eyes as Harry’s face lit up with delight at Draco’s return.
Draco was always disappearing. It drove her crazy that she couldn’t figure it
out, but it also made her less suspicious about Draco’s involvement with the
attack on Pucey. Clearly Draco was involved in some other project. She still
thought he had something to do with it, though, but she’d learned to keep her
questions to herself.
There was only ten minutes left of lunch, but Harry had made Draco a sandwich,
ready for whenever Draco returned. Draco scooped it up and ate it with slow but
determined focus. Talk picked up again around them.
They had all learned by now that asking him what he’d been doing was a waste of
time. In fact, Draco’s strange comings and goings were so normal, most of them
didn’t even bat and eye. Only Hermione seemed bothered by it and she glared at
Draco until the bell rang and they had to make their way to their next class.
That night, at the end of dinner, Hedwig swooped through the windows of the
Great Hall and delivered a letter to Harry. Harry stared at her in surprise. He
cooed and stroked her feathers, handing her choice pieces of meat, while Draco
untied the parchment attacked to her leg.
“Who’s it from?” Hermione asked, trying to see the label.
Draco stared her down, making her flush and glare in frustration, before
relenting. “Hagrid. Wants Harry to visit. Has something to show him. We’ll be
back by curfew.” He ignored everyone’s questioning stares and offers to join
them, took Harry firmly by the hand, and led him away.
The air had a cool bite to it and Draco was glad he’d told Harry to pack
sweaters int their bags. They stopped a moment to pull them on, putting their
school robes back on after. The mountains stood majestically around them, the
forest a living thing that cast its shadow over the green hills. Hagrid’s hut
sat next to a massive pumpkin patch, the pumpkins already round and fat,
promising to grow even fatter. Hagrid opened his door at their nock and beamed
down at them joyfully.
“Arry! Draco!” he boomed. “Come in!”
Draco hustled Harry inside and saw that everything he’d asked for in his note
was there: candles, apples, a sharp knife, a goblet and a bottle of wine.
“Thank you for celebrating with us, Hagrid.”
The giant man reached out and patted Draco’s head with delicate force. “It’s no
problem, boys. Glad I could help.”
- love devotion gratitude -Harry couldn’t believe Draco had set this up. He
knew it was for him.
In that moment, Harry felt such love for the blond that he didn’t really know
what to do with the feeling. It spilled over his cheeks in the form of tears.
Draco gave Harry a silver-eyed look, focused purely on him, and it made Harry
warm to his toes, a shiver tickling his spine.
Harry accepted the apples that were set in his arms and watched as Draco took
the knife and goblet. Hagrid took up the eight candles and wine. Together they
made their way into the forest where no one from the castle could easily see
them. Draco had explained that these rituals were private, done with family
only. Harry wondered how many other kids were out here, making their own
offerings in the privacy of the night.
Hagrid led them to a small clearing where a tree had fallen and left a break in
the canopy. It let them see the sky, which had turned a beautiful pale orange
as the sun began to set. Draco and Harry got busy setting the candles in a
circle around them. One to each of the four corners - north, east, south, west
- and the cross-corners - northeast, southeast, southwest, northwest.
“Take the lead, Harry,” Draco commanded softly.
Harry opened his mouth to protest - I’m not worthy!
“I need it to be you,” Draco whispered, silver eyes glinting in the dying
light.
Harry straightened his spine. Anything for Draco!
He looked to see Hagrid waiting with a still patience that so few people had.
He watched them with gentle, accepting eyes.
Harry took a deep breath and set the apples in front of the west candle, toward
setting sun. He accepted the goblet and wine and set them to either side. He
then handed Draco and Hagrid each an apple.
“Please stand behind me,” Harry asked softly, head ducked humbly.
Hagrid and Draco obediently took positions behind Harry as the boy faced west.
Harry took the long match Draco struck and turned to his right, beginning to
light the candles in a clockwise direction, opening their circle and making it
come to life.
“Today is Mabon, a spiritual day that marks the Autumn equinox. A day when
Light and Dark, Day and Night, are in perfect balance,” he began, voice low and
rhythmic. The forest seemed to still around them, a gentle, listening presence.
“It is a day to renew wards, to be thankful for all the blessings in our lives,
and to prepare for the darkness of the winter months.”
Harry lit the last candle, the west candle, the flame of the match singeing the
tips of his fingers. “While we celebrate the gifts of the earth, we also accept
that the soil is dying. We have food to eat, but the crops are going dormant.
Warmth is behind us, cold lies ahead.”
A breeze whispered through the trees. The shadows grew darker. A barely there
electric hum settled in their bones and blood. Harry closed his eyes and tried
to find that place Narcissa summoned with her words, her belief. When he spoke
again, his voice had taken on the cadence of ritual, almost like a song.
“The apple is sacred, a symbol of the gods, and holds the knowledge of the
ancients inside.” He bent and took an apple into his hands, lifting it on two
cupped palms, presenting it to the west. “Tonight, I ask the gods to bless me
with their wisdom.”
The wind blew, cold and stinging as Harry gracefully sank into a kneel. Draco
passed him the knife and Harry brought it up, the edge glinting silver,
reminding him of Draco. He brought the knife down in a smooth arc, neatly
cutting the apple in half. The smell of apples filled the clearing, more than
could be explained by simply cutting one apple.
“Five points in a star, hidden inside. One for earth, one for air, one for
fire, one for water, and the last for spirit.” Lifting his hands, Harry offered
each half, flesh facing upward, revealing the black seeds set in that powerful
star-shaped pattern. “I call upon the Wise Ones, the ancient gods to hear my
devout prayer. As the sun moves away and fire fades to be replaced with the
chill of night, I will reflect on the guidance of the gods and let the cool
autumn rains that come wash over me, cleansing my heart and soul.”
“We call upon the Wise Ones,” Draco echoed. He took a bite of his apple and
then set it in front of Harry and the wildly flickering candle. Hagrid mimicked
him, eyes bright and attentive.
A deep thrumming could just barely be felt under their feet. Something ancient
and powerful stirring to life. They could almost hear the forest breathe like
something alive.
Harry tilted this head back, eyes closed as he took in the energies around him,
basked in the feeling of the universe acknowledging their offerings and
prayers. In that moment, tenuous and precious, they were connected to something
greater and Harry’s heart filled with soul-deep gratitude for all he’d been
given.
Slowly, eyes opening, he picked up the wooden goblet. His other hand poured the
wine, filling it, letting it overflow and soak into earth beneath his knees.
“The Wild God returns this night to the belly of the Mother. The mother goddess
tonight becomes the Crone. As the Wheel of the Year turns, the earth dies a bit
each day. I willingly follow the old gods into the darkness, where they will
watch over me, protect me, and keep me safe.”
True dark slid over their clearing. Hagrid looked around in amazement as he
felt something soft and yet implacable settle around his shoulders. Draco bore
the weight easily, eyes fastened on Harry’s thin back, watching as his boy
brought the cup to his lips and drank, watched as that slender throat
swallowed.
Green eyes, glowing faintly in the dimness of oncoming night, turned and met
his own. Draco grinned, fierce and powerful, and accept the goblet. He stared
unblinking into those unearthly green eyes as he drank from the cup. A woodsy,
rich flavor rolled over his tongue. It felt warm and unexpectedly thick, like
honey. The aftertaste became metallic, like blood. It only made Draco grin
wider as he passed the drink to Hagrid.
The large man drank, handing the goblet back to Harry when he was done. Harry,
still on his knees, had to look away from Draco to accept it, but he could
still feel the blond’s eyes on him. It set every nerve in his body alight.
“Wise Ones, old gods, I thank you for Draco, his protection and care,” Harry
said with such raw honesty it made Draco harden in his pants.
“I’m thankful that I have Harry,” Draco echoed, holding his boy’s eyes,
promising him the bite of teeth and the heat of passion. Harry whimpered in
response.
“I’m thankful that I got a place to belong and friends to share it with,”
Hagrid boomed, grin white and force in his wild, dark beard, his beetle-black
eyes glittering.
Tears rolled down Harry’s face, overcome with a joy so powerful, he almost
wanted to scream. Instead, he lifted his hands and yelled joyously into the
night, “The Wild God has gone to rest in the Underworld. I look to the darkness
for renewal and rebirth!” He dug his fingers into the wine-damp earth and
lifted them up high. “Earth, symbol of security and stability, bring peace and
harmony into my home this season of thanksgiving. May the earth, the soil, the
land, ground me and protect me and those whom I love and to whom I belong. As I
will, so it shall be!”
Harry poured the rest of the wine over the west candle, extinguishing it.
Simultaneously, the remaining seven candles went out with a hiss. Harry arched
his back as an electric current ran up his spine from the ground. His magic
sparked and crackled deep in his core in response. Hagrid’s gasp and Draco’s
soft exhale told him they were feeling it, too. Their offering had been
accepted. They were being blessed!
The smell of apples, wine, and blood rose again, saturating the air. Energy
danced along their nerves, tugged at their hair. The trees swayed in a sudden
gust, almost echoing Harry’s wild cry.
Panting, Harry lowered his arms, expression exuberant, cheeks red and damp,
eyes unnaturally bright. “Thank you for celebrating with me,” he told them.
Draco, grinning, swooped Harry up into his arms, bringing the smaller boy back
to his feet. He almost kissed him right there, but Hagrid’s presence stopped
him. “You did amazing,” he said instead, voice rough with desire. * Love you,
Harry. Want you. *
Harry flushed, his face turning red - desire need joy.
“That was incredible,” Hagrid agreed. He bounced on the tips of his toes,
energized.
It took them only a few minutes to clean up. They said goodbye to Hagrid, Draco
and Harry again thanking him for helping with the ritual. Hagrid waved them off
and they walked back to the castle with Harry wrapped in Draco’s arms.
Draco made sure they were out of sight before pushing Harry up against a
courtyard wall and ravaging his mouth. Harry was sweet and pliant, opening to
Draco readily, a needy whine rising softly in the back of his throat. Draco
mentally ordered the boy silent as he sank to his knees and opened Harry’s
pants, taking the thin, stiff member into his blazing hot mouth.
It didn’t take long… Harry’s head was flung back against the wall, his mouth
gaping open silently as he sucked in one breath and another, his nails clawing
at stone… He came, eyes squeezing shut as stars erupted behind his eyes. Slowly
he sank, his robes hissing as they dragged against the wall. He dropped to his
knees, trembling and dizzy.
Draco sat back on his butt, legs spread wide, and practically tore his pants
open, gripping himself with almost bruising force.
“Please?” Harry begged prettily, long lashes fluttering over still-dazed eyes.
Draco shivered, hand falling away, eyes staring at Harry with almost primal
hunger. “Yes, Harry,” he groaned. “Come here.”
Harry crawled across the few inches that separated them and licked up Draco’s
stiff shaft. The feel and flavor of Draco’s warm, soft/hard skin made him
whimper-moan. He closed his lips around the tip and slid sensually down Draco’s
shaft.
Harry whimpered again as Draco grabbed him roughly by the hair and began
lifting his head up and pushing it down at a quick pace - satisfaction pleasure
need.He closed this eyes and sucked hard, loving the feel of Draco’s dick
sliding along the inside of his cheeks and the roof of his mouth. Loved the way
it tapped at the back of his throat.
Draco gave a short, barked cry as pleasure rolled over him, crashing like a
wave, setting his body on fire. Harry moaned long and deep, eyes fluttering
closed - pleasure joy - singing through his soul as Draco gave a growl and
Harry felt the splash of the blond’s pleasure across the back of his throat and
tongue.
Their magic rolled out into the night, a rippling wave that made the energies
of the night sparkle and come to life. Golden flecks of light, like dancing
fireflies, exploded in a shower of sparkles across Hogwarts grounds.
Draco stared up at the little sparkling lights with a soft smile. “Well, shit…”
He muttered, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, too much. He pulled Harry
up so that he was sitting next to him and not sprawled face-first across his
lap. “Look, Harry.”
Harry blinked, eyes wide as he leaned against Draco’s side. “It’s so pretty…”
he murmured sweetly, reaching forward and touching a sparkle with the tip of
his finger. It rested there for a long second before flickering away into
nothing.
“Yeah,” Draco agreed, looking at the side of his boy’s soft face. Harry’s lips
were shiny and wet, swollen and red. His cheeks flushed warm and his green eyes
glittered in the twinkling golden light. “Pretty…”
The magical little fireflies lasted long after the boys finally climbed to
their feet and made their way to bed. They danced and shimmered, twinkling like
little stars, only to slowly dim and fade away as morning drew closer.
Chapter end.
Thank you for all the well wishes. They really mean a lot to me. I have the
best readers in the whole community. :)
 
***** Mysterious Past, Inevitable Future *****
Mysterious Past, Inevitable Future
Shut up in his office, hair pulled back into a ponytail that rested on the back
of his head, Lucius stood over his desk, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his
elbows. Candlelight flickered over the papers scattered around his desk. Heart
thudding hard in his chest, Lucius stared down at Pandora’s notes on souls and
cores and sudden inspiration struck. 
Excitement and cold apprehension combined into a queasy whole as he strode with
anxious purpose to his library. There, in the back, was a cupboard warded and
hidden to all except the Malfoy Head. Inside were books - dark and forbidden.
He pulled out a thick tome, Secrets of the Darkest Art, and carefully opened
it. Absentmindedly walking closer to the magical light burning on the wall, he
found the entry he’d half-remembered.
“Tamper with the deepest mysteries - the source of life, the essence of self -
only if prepared for the consequences of the most extreme and dangerous kind.”
- Herpo the Foul
Lucius read those words with deep respect. Herpo was one of the most revered
and powerful Dark Wizards of all time. Living over three hundred years, creator
of a multitude of Dark spells and rituals, first breeder of basilisks, he’d
been placed on a chocolate frog card and remembered to this day. 
Unknown to nearly all, he’d also created a ritual that would ensure
immortality… theoretically. The Horrible Cross, the Horcrux… It might have
explained Herpo’s ancient age until passing, but it did not elude Lucius that
Herpo did eventually die. Due to age degrading his insanity or some unknown
weakness of the Horcrux, Lucius didn’t know. All he knew was the ritual
described and the dire warnings Herpo had given had led even the most staunch
Dark Wizards and Witches to be wary. 
Lucius read through the seven page long ritual and shivered. Intricate and
dangerous, the ritual took strength and stamina and a nearly obsessive focus on
immortality. Herpo concluded by describing in detail the effects of a
successful casting.
Cleaving a piece of your immortal soul causes one’s being to become other.
Humanity becomes a thing just out of reach, as if trapped beneath the clear
surface of a lake. One can almost remember the deeper emotions, but it is lost
to them eternally. It is also in part due to the dehumanization of oneself that
there is some physical change that marks the loss of one’s humanity. The
distance will only grow more vast with time. Is there true purpose in
separating oneself from the organic universe one feared to leave? I know not. I
only know once the ritual is cast and successfully takes hold, there is no
return. A third side effect of Horcrux creation is that the master soul itself
becomes unstable. I have a growing fear that once death inevitably comes, I
fear an inability to truly cross over. Can a mere fragment possess the ability
to make a final transition? I fear eternal limbo awaits my eternity.
After that cheerful warning and the very explicit statement that it was all in
vain, that true immortality did not result, the spell eventually faded from the
world. Nearly three thousand years later and this darkest of spells had been
nearly lost to time, but it did not surprise him in the least that the Lord
Voldemort had come across it. It explained so much!
It explained Lord Voldemort’s decent into madness and instability. It also
explained how he’d managed to survive and how he planned to come back. All
these years, a wraith - a spirit - waiting to gain the strength to perform the
rituals that would return him a physical body and strength. It wouldn’t be long
now, Lucius suspected, before Voldemort made a full return.
To create a Horcrux, a wizard first had to begin the ritual and prepare the
mind and soul for the severing. Then they had to deliberately commit murder.
This act would result in the murderer metaphysically damaging their own soul. A
wizard who wished to create a Horcrux would then use that damage to their
advantage by casting a spell, which would rip the damaged portion of the soul
and encase it in an object. If the maker was later killed, he or she would
continue to exist in a non-corporeal form, although there are methods of
regaining a physical body. 
Where a person’s container, their body, could be destroyed without any damage
to the soul, the fragment of soul contained inside a Horcrux was dependent on
the container for its existence. If the container was destroyed, so to would be
the fragment of soul within it. However, Horcruxes by their nature appeared to
be extraordinarily durable, as only very destructive magics and processes could
truly destroy them. 
Destroying a Horcrux required that the object containing the soul fragment be
damaged to a point beyond any and all physical or magical repair. Horcruxes
possess some last line of defense against destruction. It can sense impending
threats and can act to defend itself. However, as a safety measure to protect
one’s immortality, the creator would usually place powerful enchantments onto
the artifact to prevent damage. 
Also, the fragment of a person’s soul within a Horcrux was capable of thinking
for itself and had certain magical abilities, including the ability to
influence those in their vicinity. A person with an affinity for the Dark Arts
would be strengthened by the influence. If a person is more emotionally
vulnerable, it is possible for the soul inside the Horcrux to take control.
A memory arose: “Lucius…” the hissing voice of his Lord, the words a caress of
ownership. “My most honored. Take this and guard it well. Your life and the
existence of your bloodline depends on your ability to safeguard it.”
Lucius carefully returned the tome to the warded cupboard and with trembling
fingers pulled out a small, black diary. He turned it over. Embedded in golden
ink on the bottom right was the name: Tom Marvolo Riddle.
The Dark Lord had given an ignorant Lucius his Horcrux!
Striding to a desk, Lucius picked up a quill and opened the book. He knew
writing in it would be dangerous, but Lucius was confident in his ability to
withstand the effects of the Horcux. This diary contained too much knowledge to
pass up. Lucius would destroy it, but first…
My name is Lucius Malfoy. Do you know who you are?
The ink disappeared and he waited with baited breath until words began to spell
themselves in beautiful calligraphy across the page.
Yes. My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. I have been waiting a long time for you to
write to me. There is much I’d like to ask.
Lucius felt a grin stretch across his face. Let the games begin!
…
Draco had said he wanted to check something and had given Ron a pointed look
before striding off in the opposite direction. Ron was one of the tallest boys
in the class and Harry was just short enough that it was easy to rest his arm
across the back of his friend’s shoulders. If Harry were to happen to fall
again, Ron would be able to catch him for sure.
“Let’s play a game of chess,” he said cheerfully. Harry had been so busy with
Quidditch practice and studying that they never got to hang out anymore. 
“Yeah!” Harry answered happily. He felt bad for not spending time with his
friend. 
They were just reaching the portrait hole, Ron chattering away telling Harry
jokes that Dean and Seamus had taught him, when they heard a voice call out
Harry’s name. Ron instantly began to scowl, turning to see the Pleasant girl
right behind them, Neville trailing in her wake as always.
She had four books held close to her chest. Her hair was frizzed out around her
head and she looked almost frantic. “I heard the upper years saying Professor
Flitwick gave them a surprise quiz today. That means he might give us one, too,
tomorrow! We should brush up on our Charms notes before bed.”
Harry’s eyes went wide. “Yeah, okay.” He gave Ron an apologetic smile. “Sorry,
Ron. Did you want to study with us?”
Ron gave the menace a glare, voice stiff as he answered. “No, thanks. I’d
rather study on my own.”
She brushed past him as if she didn’t care about his bad attitude. Neville
ducked his head and wouldn’t meet his eyes while Harry gave him another smile
and wave before hurrying after her. 
Ron watched his friend go, a worried frown on his face. Harry was always
studying, couldn’t she see he needed a break? He looked stressed out and it was
only their second month of school!
…
Lucius discarded the letter from the Puceys basically begging him for mercy. He
didn’t need the distraction, honestly. 
He picked some clean parchment and wrote a quick letter to his assistant,
giving him the order to desist in the financial attack on the Puceys. They had
learned their lesson and if Lucius continued his attack, he’d make them so
desperate they’d lash out, which would require him to deal with the situation.
He was too caught up in his project to care at this point. He was certain Draco
had taken steps to punish their son, and, knowing Draco’s ruthless ferocity,
Lucius was certain Adrian Pucey would not be making any moves against them any
time soon. It was finished. He was more concerned about the diary and
Voldemort’s broken soul.
Voldemort was only sixteen in the diary. He did not have as much knowledge as
Lucius had hoped. However, he still had his quick intelligence and
determination to shape the world into a more acceptable shape. Insanity had yet
to touch him as it had his older counterpart. That led Lucius to believe the
Dark Lord had created more than the diary and Harry as Horcruxes. In fact, he
guessed the genius had wanted to craft six in total with the master soul making
seven, the most powerful magical number. The question was, was Harry the sixth
and final one? Or some number in between? There was no way to know for certain,
but Lucius was determined to research Voldemort’s life now that he had a name
to follow: Tom Riddle.
…
“Quiz me,” Draco ordered. He had a piece of toast in his hand as they walked
quickly to their first class. 
Harry was also eating toast. Draco had gotten in late the night before, so
Harry had let him sleep while he got some more studying in. They’d only had
time to grab a few pieces of bread, butter it, and spread on strawberry jam
before rushing out to class. 
“Emeric the Evil,” Harry said.
Draco thought about it and shook his head. “Killed a bunch of people, but I
can’t remember how.”
Harry told him the important highlights of the warlock’s history and then said,
“Uric the Oddball.”
Behind them, Hermione frowned with disapproval. She didn’t approve of cramming.
Sure Draco may get a few of those questions right now, but he didn’t really
know the material or understand the deeper concepts. It was basically cheating.
Neville, however, listened attentively.
…
Narcissa stepped into the guest room on the east side of the manor. Golden
light spilled through the window, softening the pastels and soft colors of the
room. It was one of Narcissa’s favorite guest rooms, designed to comfortably
house unattached visiting females. However, none of this really registered
because the eye was immediately drawn to the back spot that seemed to darken
the room with its very presence.
Bella sat demurely in the window seat. Thin and gaunt, she was still strangely
alluring with her dark curls cut short, her big blue eyes, and sharp, angular
features. In shocking contrast to the room, she wore all black. Her thick skirt
pooled around her legs to the floor, the bodice tight, the sleeves long to
cover the bone-white skin of her arms. The short hair still made Narcissa
uneasy. It was shocking to see. Their mother had forbade them from ever cutting
their hair, implying the act would somehow diminish them or make them less.
“Cissa,” Bella cooed and stood to embrace her.
Narcissa stood frozen as the darkness in the room came closer and filled her
vision before thin arms pulled her against a warm body in a hug. Narcissa
pulled away, placing her hands on Bella’s shoulders. She’d only managed to
visit her sister after installing her in the guest room a handful of times a
week. Partly due to the fact that Bella always greeted her with overwhelming
affection. Narcissa had no idea how to reconcile her hurt and broken sister’s
love with the fact that Bella was the one who had destroyed her and had
inflicted incredible damage to her beloved son. She’d had enough time to come
to terms with finding her sister, however. She wanted answers.
“Bella,” she said softly and guided her younger sister back over to the window
seat. “We need to talk. Really talk this time.”
Bella let herself be guided, but she refused to relinquish her hold on
Narcissa’s hand. She sat and looked up at her with trusting blue eyes framed by
a messy fall of black curls. “What is it, Cissa?”
“Bella…” Narcissa took a deep breath and sat on the window seat so they’d be on
a more even level. “You stole Draco from me. You stole him away and abandoned
him. I need to understand this.”
Bella’s smile morphed into something more intense. Her hand tightened around
Narcissa’s and a fanatical light entered her eyes. “I saved him for you, Cissa.
I saved him.”
Narcissa swallowed a hot lump of rage and grief and asked coldly, “How did you
save him?”
“I saw it. When I took the mark of my Lord. I saw the future of my darling
nephew,” she said intently, staring straight into Narcissa’s eyes. “He was a
sweet creature, Cissa. Sweet and loving with a core of strength the world not
seen in ages. Such a soul, a true Black no matter the Malfoy wrapping.” Here
she laughed, giddy as a young girl. Her head bowed, her features hidden by her
hair. She lifted Narcissa’s hand to her lips and placed a cool kiss on her
knuckles before peering up at her. “But he was to be shackled and maimed by
your husband.”
Narcissa sucked in a breath and Bella practically leaped forward to frame her
face in cold hands. A demented smile stretched her face as she insisted almost
frantically, “But I don’t blame you, sweet sister! You would be hampered by
tradition and the place of a wife beside her husband. Draco would be too afraid
to tell you what he suffered as he was molded to Lucius’s expectation. Draco,
the poor boy, would have willingly carved the pieces that didn’t fit from his
soul, and you, sister, would not have realize what had happened until too late.
You would not even know to guess that the Malfoy mold was too small for his
destiny.”
“What destiny?” Narcissa croaked, caught in her sister’s gaze. It felt like
Bella loomed before her, that Narcissa shrank with every passing minute.
Bella laughed, low and sultry. “I saw him, wrapped in the arms of another boy.
The pleasure and completion found there became the foundation of a strength
nearly overwhelming. I saw them come together, male and male, and it was not
abhorrent, Cissa! It was beautiful! Draco changed the world, Cissa! He broke
the chains of Light that hobble the world. He will set the world free on wings
of Darkness! 
“With our Lord guiding us all, we will be reborn! Draco will become a grand
Duke with a male on his arm and in his bed without censure or rejection by the
less worthy. The Old Ways will return and true power will be breathed into this
dying world! Our Lord will not allow those like Draco - those who are broken by
this rigid society - to wither! He will embrace the Truth of each soul and fan
it to its potential and use it for His great purpose!”
Narcissa was panting. Shocked and shaking, she reached up to grab Bella’s hands
and pull them away from her face. “Bella,” she whispered, tears blurring her
eyes. Her sister was insane. “Bella, he’s found his boy.”
She giggled again, red staining her cheeks. “So soon? Has time passed so
quickly? What year is it? How old is sweet Draco? And our Lord, where is our
precious Lord? He has yet to come see me.”
“Bella,” Narcissa said again, imploring her sister to listen. “Bella, Draco
found his boy, but he is Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, the boy who caused the
Dark Lord’s downfall.” 
Bella began pulling on her hands, trying to remove them from Narcissa’s grip.
Her head shook back and forth in denial, an almost-growl rising from her
throat. 
Narcissa held tighter, voice rising. “The Dark Lord is gone, Bella!”
“He will return! He is the most powerful… the most…” she gasped, face made ugly
with fury. 
“He is gone!” Narcissa yelled in her face with equal fury. “And if he were to
return as you seem to hope, he’d destroy Harry Potter. Destroy him and along
with him my son who would never forgive him. Draco would put everything he had
against the Dark Lord in an attempt to destroy him!”
Bella finally jerked away. “How could you let this happen?” she bellowed. “I
did everything! I sacrificed everything! How could you do this?” She flew at
Narcissa, hands up in claws, aiming for Narcissa’s eyes.
Narcissa’s wand snapped up and she cast, “Petrificus Totalus!”
Bellatrix slammed to the floor, arms forced to her side.
Tears scorching pale cheeks, Narcissa knelt by her damaged sister. “I didn’t
let this happen, Bella. You did. They formed a magical twin bond overseas
before Draco returned to us. There is no separating the two now. You were
right. Draco’s destiny is bigger than the Malfoy mold. He is now a Dominus. On
the order of King Arthur, I believe. And sweet Harry is his delicae. There is
no going back, Bella. Draco is going to change the world with Harry at his
side. The Dark Lord’s time has passed. I’m sorry.”
Standing, she turned and left her sister, locking the door tightly behind her.
…
Hermione stared at Harry across the library table. He looked pale and tired. It
was nearing curfew and Draco was late picking them up. Draco always insisted on
walking them back to the Tower whenever they studied in the library, the memory
of Harry’s fall clearly still haunting him, so Harry and Hermione tried to do
most of their studying near the dorms. 
Tonight, however, they needed some extra books for reference to write good
essays. Neville was wondering the shelves, looking for books on Herbology and
Potions. He’d needed a break and was perfectly satisfied with an E unlike his O
obsessed friends, so Harry and Hermione were alone.
“Harry…” she said softly, gaining his attention. “You’ve been doing really well
in classes lately. You get O’s more often than not. I was just wondering…” She
cleared her throat, not really sure how to ask what she wanted to know. “I just
mean, you’re not pushing yourself to match me, are you?”
Harry shook his head hard, eyes wide. “No way. You’re way smarter than me,
Hermione. Thank you for always helping me. I’m only doing so well because we
study together.”
She flushed in embarrassment. “You’re welcome. I just didn’t want you to try so
hard if that was the case. I’ve never met anyone better than me at studying
before. I didn’t want you to hurt yourself trying to beat me or something.”
Knowing she sounded stuck-up, she quickly added, “But that doesn’t mean I’m
better overall! I mean, you’re way better at flying!” 
“I’m okay at it,” Harry denied with an embarrassed blush, ducking his head.
“There are people way better than me. Like Draco, Fred, George, and Oliver.”
Hermione tilted her head curiously. “If you’re not trying to catch up to me,
why are you working so hard?” She frowned. “You’re not working so hard for
Draco, are you?”
Green eyes looked up at her again and this time they were less open. There were
always secrets in his eyes when it came to Draco. It bothered her to no end.
Mostly because she’d never not understood something before. 
“I want Draco to be proud of me, but I also just want to be the best I can be,”
he finally answered.
Hermione scrunched her face in thought. “Does it bother you that he doesn’t
feel the same way?”
Harry looked genuinely confused. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” she said with a scowl, “he doesn’t work nearly as hard at his studies
as you do. He just floats by. He could get really good marks if he actually
tried. Doesn’t it bother you that he’s not trying to make you proud like you
are him?”
“I am proud of him,” Harry answered softly, eyebrows lowering in confusion.
“But why? He makes you work so hard for his approval and you just give it to
him for nothing,” she hissed. “It’s not fair.”
“Draco’s amazing,” Harry told her firmly. “He works really hard on stuff. Just
because he can’t tell you what he’s doing, doesn’t mean he’s not working hard
or that it’s not important. I’m really, really lucky to have Draco, Hermione.
You don’t understand, so don’t talk about Draco, okay?”
Hermione flushed hotly. Harry was normally so sweet and kind. He cared about
everyone and was really attentive. He and Neville were the nicest people she
knew, so it always made her feel like she’d done something wrong when he got
mad at her. Well, mad for him anyway. It wasn’t like he was mean or yelled, but
she felt put in her place just the same.
Frowning, she turned her attention back to her essay.
…
Remus looked up from the book he was reading when there was a knock on the
door. He saved his place and made his way slowly to the front of the cottage.
Opening the door, he kept his face neutral as he saw Albus Dumbledore standing
on his doorstep. 
“Headmaster,” he said softly. “Come in.”
Dumbledore smiled, the sun glinting off his glasses. “Thank you, Remus, my
boy.” As he ducked his head to step inside and the front door was shut behind
him, he turned to his former student. “I feel remiss in welcoming you to
Hogsmeade. It has been a busy three years, but that is no excuse. How have you
been?” he asked jovially.
Remus was thiner. He moved stiffly and there were healing cuts along his hands
and face, but he looked incredibly well considering it was the day after his
transformation. Usually he would be on the floor unable to move for a good
twelve hours after the moon had set and hardly able to do more than crawl into
a bed for another twenty four after that. There usually was more physical
damage to his body to be seen as well.
Remus gave him a polite smile and gestured him to the small couch in front of a
fireplace. Fall had come and even during midday there was a chill in the air.
“I am well. Would you care for some tea?”
“That would be lovely,” Dumbledore agreed and took his place on the couch.
He looked around as Remus made himself busy in the kitchen. The cottage was
cozy and well-kept. The only place that was unorganized was the large desk by
the window with books and papers scattered about. Dumbledore scanned a few of
the titles on the spines and noted they were all American in origin and
revolved around Shamanism.
Smile in place with eyes twinkling, he accepted the hot cup of tea Remus
brought to him before sitting in the armchair adjacent to the couch.
“Interesting field of study.”
Remus tilted his head curiously. “I’m aware it is considered an uncultured
field and would not be looked on well here. It’s more for my personal knowledge
than for any academic acclaim from my peers. I was able to witness several acts
of shamanic magic while overseas and have grown quite fascinated.”
“I see,” Dumbledore said amiably, sipping his tea. “I for one would love to
read any papers you write on the topic.”
Remus smiled at that. “Thank you, sir.”
“How are you settling in?” Dumbledore asked.
“Well enough. I’m on speaking terms with most of the villagers, but I do not go
out of my way to invite a closer acquaintance,” he said easily with a shrug.
“I’m so used to moving from one place to the next. I guess old habits are hard
to break. Honestly, I’m quite content left on my own to study. I’ve never owned
a home. It’s been peaceful.”
“Good, good.” Dumbledore took another sip of his tea before easing into the
subject that brought him. “The boys are equally settling in to Hogwarts. There
have been a few instances, but I feel they are behind them now.”
Remus eyed the old wizard for a long moment before saying, “That’s good to
hear.”
“In fact, just recently there was an act against those who may have hurt
Harry.” Dumbledore gave the younger wizard a frank stare. “I was wondering if
you knew anything about that?”
“No, Headmaster,” Remus lied easily. Protective instincts surged through his
veins. “Was it in the papers? I don’t read the Prophet much.”
“No,” Dumbledore said softly, his eyes shaded with disappointment. “I had a
feeling you may know more about it, perhaps due to your correspondence with
Draco…”
Remus gave a frown before nodding. “I had forgotten. Draco had mentioned that.
He said people think he did it? But it sounded far-fetched so I put it out of
my mind. Should I be worried?”
Dumbledore set his tea down, his whole posture changing. “Yes. I believe you
must. If Draco did have a hand in the attack, it was shocking and brutal.
Especially from the mind of a such a young boy. I fear what could occur if he
should be allowed to develop unchecked. Remus, these boys are crucial to the
survival of our world. We must be sure they grow appropriately.”
Remus sat back, a look of sympathy on his face. “I understand, Headmaster. I
do. Draco can be cruel. However, I thought we were making progress in softening
his outlook. I will do my best to reach him. You said the attack wasn’t in the
news? I hope that means the boy was not seriously hurt?”
Dumbledore sighed. “He was scared out of his mind. Physically he is well, but
it will be a while before he is fully recovered.”
“I can’t help but wonder why you are so concerned for his wellbeing,” Remus
said softly, an almost unnoticed glow about his amber eyes. “The boy tried to
murder a fellow student. That is as brutal as anything Draco has done.”
“He does not have the fate of the world on his shoulders,” Dumbledore said
firmly, looking at his former student over his glasses. “His poor decisions do
not effect the world as Draco’s does.”
Remus disagreed strongly. Had Adrian Pucey killed Harry - the mere thought made
Remus want to vomit and his heart begin to race - the fate of the world would
have sat very much on his shoulders. Pucey would have started a chain of events
that would have ended in destruction. By attacking Pucey in turn and making it
clear such attacks on Harry were unacceptable, that destruction was hopefully
prevented. Could the Headmaster not see that? It was baffling to Remus who
could see it so clearly. 
He spent the rest of the visit making polite small talk, even brushing on a few
of his topics of study. Inside, he was watching and waiting, much as a wolf
would who was stalking prey. Dumbledore was beginning to have doubts regarding
Draco. He could become troublesome.
…
Draco had missed Quidditch practice for the last four days and Oliver made it
clear, great flyer or not, if Draco didn’t make it to at least a few practices
a week, he’d be removed as reserve Seeker. Harry was really excited that Draco
had decided to join him that morning. He was determined to show him how hard
he’d been practicing. 
They always started practice by running a mile. Harry ran as hard and as fast
as he could. He felt almost like puking when it was over and bent over his
knees, heaving in air. 
Oliver clapped him on the shoulder. “Good job, Harry! Took another twenty-seven
seconds off your time!”
Harry grinned, pale and red-faced at the same time, and looked up at Draco.
Draco lifted a single eyebrow, his lips curled up in a smile. He’d come in a
good forty-seconds after Harry. He was panting as well, sweat dripping down his
face. “Good… job… Harry!”
Harry beamed proudly. 
Next they did sprints. Harry was ahead of Draco during most of them, but soon
Draco was directly at his side, and then on the last two Draco passed him.
Flinging themselves down onto the grass of the pitch, chests heaving, they
tried not to die.
“Still… beat you…” Draco eventually panted.
Harry nodded. Draco was so amazing! He only came to about a third of the
practices that Harry did and he was still able to mostly keep up and even beat
Harry. 
Draco wasn’t as impressed with himself. He knew Harry’s endurance would always
be fundamentally weaker because of the long-term starvation he’d experienced
with the fucking Dursleys. It infuriated him every time he saw the evidence of
Harry’s mistreatment, and he reminded himself again to make sure Harry was
eating well during meals.
Oliver blew his whistle and they mounted their brooms for flying practice and
maneuvers. 
Draco and Harry shared fierce grins as they shot up into the air together.
It always surprised everyone else on the team how hard Draco and Harry went
against each other. They were so close, nigh inseparable, and yet they almost
looked like they were trying to kill each other over the snitch.
…
Lucius tapped the quill tip to the diary’s surface. In the week or so since
he’d started his quest to find information on the life of one Tom Riddle, he’d
learned absolutely nothing. It was as if all record of him was gone. Ink
dripped onto the page and disappeared. 
You’ve been gone a long time. Has something happened?words appeared onto the
page. 
Lucius figured he had nothing to lose.I could find no records of Tom Riddle
anywhere.
You doubt my validity? You think I’m a false personality?There was a pause. Let
me show you who I am, or should I say who I was?
How?Lucius wrote suspiciously. Suddenly the pages seemed to glow. Lucius pulled
back but not quickly enough. He was sucked into the pages and was brought face-
to-face with a sixteen-year-old version of his former Lord.
The teen was handsome. His eyes were bright with intelligence and mirth.
“Hello, Lucius,” he drawled. “I’d be most interested to learn of Lord
Voldemort. I have the distinct impression that you know of him.” A persuasive
smile softened his mouth as he linked his arm through Lucius’s. They were
nearly the same height. Tom only an inch or so shorter. “Would you like to see
the Chamber where I thought up the name?”
“Slytherin’s Chamber?” Lucius whispered in awe. They were standing in a hallway
at Hogwarts. It looked remarkably real. He reached out to touch the wall, but
Tom had begun walking forward, pulling him along.
“The very same,” the teen drawled.
…
Ron cornered Harry before he disappeared in some nook somewhere with
Longbottom-Pleasant. “You want to play a quick game of Exploding Snap with
Dean, Seamus, and me?” 
Ron had thought about inviting Draco, too, but the blond was currently sitting
on a window seat across the room with the twins. Ron scowled. The last time
he’d tried to interrupt the three of them, Fred had called him stupid baby
names and George had basically told him to butt out. It had left Ron angry for
days! They were his brothers! Why were they so nice to Draco and never nice to
him? Not that Ron wanted their stupid attention! Fred and George were mean and
annoying; Draco could have them!
“Sure,” Harry agreed, but he looked distracted. His hair was messier than
normal as he ran his hands through it restlessly. 
Ron put on a smile to cover his worry. “Great! Come on!” He grabbed Harry’s
wrist and pulled him over to the fire. 
Dean playfully shoved Seamus in the shoulder. “You lose on purpose just because
you like the explosions.”
“Well, yeah, but I don’t lose on purpose. I’m just that bad at this game,”
Seamus countered with an exaggerated face of disappointment. 
Ron laughed at them and took his turn. Harry was next and he looked over, but
the boy was staring into the fire.
“Harry…” Ron snapped his fingers in front of the boy’s face. “Are you tired?
You’ve been studying an awful lot.”
Harry blinked and turned a smile Ron’s way. “I’m fine! Sorry, Ron. I was just
thinking.”
“About Draco? Where’d he run off to?” Dean asked curiously.
Ron looked over and sure enough Draco and the twins had disappeared.
“He likes to explore the castle,” Harry lied easily. “Hogwarts is pretty
amazing, isn’t it?” 
Harry didn’t feel bad about lying. Draco was busy and the others would only
slow him down, even if their intentions were good. Harry just wished he was
stronger so that he could help Draco more. All he could do at this point was
bring food back to the dorm if Draco missed a meal, keep their room clean, get
better at Quidditch, and help Draco relax whenever he had a spare minute, but
none of that really mattered. What really mattered was the battle between Draco
and Quirrell. Harry wondered how strong he’d have to get before he would be
able to stand at Draco’s side.
“Yeah, it really is!” Seamus exclaimed, his accent still unfamiliar to Harry’s
ear. “We’ve been looking for secret passages and we found one near the
Astronomy Tower. Maybe we could show Draco sometime.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Harry pulled a card and flung it down. It didn’t explode. “I bet
Draco’s already found it though. He’s pretty good at exploring.” He also had
access to a magical map, but Harry knew better than to share that secret.
“Then maybe he could show us a few secret places,” Dean suggested. He flung a
card down and it exploded, making all four boys jump and laugh.
“Harry!” 
Ron looked over with a dark glare, but Longbottom-Pleasant seemed immune. 
“I looked over your essay like you asked. I found some punctuation and spelling
errors, and you need better transitions. You’ll have to rewrite it.”
Harry got up and accepted the parchment. He ran his other hand through his
messy hair, clearly upset with himself. “Thanks, Hermione. I’ll go fix it right
now.” 
Ron got to his knees and grabbed the girl’s wrist before she could wander off.
He waited for Harry to get out of earshot and said hotly, “He could’a just
scratched out the mistakes. Why can’t you leave him alone? He needs a break.”
She yanked her wrist out of his grasp. “He wants to do well, unlike some I
could name. I’m being a friend and helping him with his goals. What’re you
doing besides wasting time playing a stupid game?”
Her tone was thick with accusation and disapproval and Ron’s face went red with
fury, but before he could scream at her, Dean and Seamus grabbed him by each
arm and pulled him back down.
Chapter end.
A/N: Kind of a filler chapter, I know, but the stage has been set. The
following chapter will be more action-packed, promise.
***** Samhain Battles *****
Samhain Battles
Samhain, or Halloween, dawned cold and dreary, but that did nothing to douse
everyone’s excitement for the feast. Upperclassmen told stories of piles and
piles of sweets, floating pumpkins and candles, and staying up late telling
stories of the dead. 
“It’s Wingardium Levi-O-sa,” Hermione said impatiently as Ron again struggled
to lift his feather in Charms, the last class of the day. 
Ron glared hotly at her. Hermione merely sniffed and put her nose in the air as
if he were the one being unreasonable! The gong of the bell in the bell tower
rang throughout the school, signaling freedom.
Ron grabbed his bag, flung it violently over his shoulder, and rounded on the
bushy-haired girl. Voice dark and vicious, he spat, “I didn’t ask for your
help! And don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing with Harry!” Her eyes had
grown wide. Everyone had gone silent around them, but Ron couldn't stop. He’d
kept it in for far too long. Being assigned as her partner today had been the
last straw! “You’re scared he’ll realize how terrible you are if he spends time
with anyone normal, so you’re doing your bloody best to keep him from his other
friends! Well, I’m not going anywhere, you ugly hag! Everyone hates you! You’re
a bloody menace! Why don’t you just shove off?”
Professor Flitwick was too shocked to interfere and Ron stormed away before he
could assign a detention. “Oh dear,” he muttered as Hermione fled the room in
tears.
Neville ran after her, but Draco took Harry’s hand and went after Ron instead.
He didn’t like the way the rest of the First-years were silent with implied
agreement. Even Hermione’s roommates looked reluctant to interfere.
The Great Hall was decked out for Samhain. Floating pumpkins and candles
hovered above the tables just as promised and treats were piled almost two feet
high. The energy in the room was almost electric. They found Ron sitting at the
end of Gryffindor table, away from their usual spot. He was poking at a cupcake
with a scowl on his face.
“Ron,” Draco called.
The redhead looked up, his expression mulish.
Draco sighed. Harry took the seat to the right and Draco sat on the redhead’s
left, boxing him in. “Look. You have every right to be mad if she’s being rude,
but you can’t just go off on her like that.”
“Like a know-it-all like her would ever listen to me any other way!” Ron mashed
a perfectly fine cupcake flat with his fork.
Draco had to concede the girl was stubborn. “If she really bothers you that
much, try and avoid her.”
“Hard to do when you two are always hanging out with her,” Ron muttered
stubbornly. “She’s always getting in my face when I’m trying to hang out with
Harry.”
Draco frowned at Ron’s resistance. “We have to live together for seven years.
You really want to fight that whole time? Besides, it upsets Harry.” The last
was said in warning.
Ron glanced to the side and saw that Harry did look worried. Harry had been
working so hard, everyone could see it. Ron was being a jerk, putting more on
him. He mashed his cupcake even harder. Hermione Longbottom-Pleasant was just
so impossible! 
Draco saw the Forth-years hovering nearby. Ron had taken their usual seats.
Sighing, Draco grabbed Ron’s arm, pulling firmly. “I doubt she’s coming to
dinner. Let’s go sit at our usual spot, okay?”
Ron caved as Harry stared at him with big hopeful eyes. Together, they walked
to their accustomed table with the twins, the twins’ friends, and most of the
First-years. Draco was right. Neither Neville nor Hermione showed up for the
feast. Harry fretted through most of the meal, only calming down when Draco
told him to pick out the best treats so they could bring it up to Hermione and
Neville later. 
Draco gave Ron a look, making the redhead squirm. He gave in, saying, “Yeah,
okay. I’ll help you bring them up.” The relief on Harry’s face made Ron feel
twice as guilty. “Sorry for ruining our first Samhain at Hogwarts,” he
muttered.
“It’s okay. Friends fight,” Harry said, forgiving him instantly.
A warning kick from Draco to his ankle kept the, ‘I’llneverbe her
friend’,behind Ron’s teeth.
A wave of silence followed the abrupt arrival of Professor Quirrell. He was
clearly in a panic, running and stumbling. His face was pale, his blue eyes
wide with terror. By the time he hit the halfway mark into the Great Hall, you
could hear a pin drop.
“T-T-Troll. I-In the d-d-dung-geon,” he stuttered, looking toward the head
table where Dumbledore and the other teachers sat. “Just t-t-thought y-you’d
like to k-know.” Then he fainted dead away.
There was instant pandemonium. 
Dumbledore rose to his feet, his voice magically amplified so all the students
could hear him. “Seventh-years, guide your classmates back to the common rooms.
Stay inside until you hear from your Head of House! Teachers, escort the
children. Minerva, with me.”
Draco grabbed both Ron and Harry by the hands. “Go. Be safe. I’ll catch up in a
minute.” He wasn’t about to leave Quirrell. He pulled the two boys’ hands
together, placing Harry’s hand in Ron’s.
- anxiety trust- Harry didn’t want to go, but he trusted Draco to make the
right decision. If Draco thought he’d get in the way, then Harry needed to
leave.
Ron gave a serious nod before getting up and following the stream of their
housemates. Percy appeared at his side and Ron shamelessly took his hand, too.
They followed the raised voices of the Seventh-years, calling, “Keep together
now! Let’s be quick!”
They were in a crush of students from all the houses moving toward the Great
Hall doors. Frightened and excited murmurs filled the air. Suddenly the kids
next to Harry and Ron parted and a Gryffindor Fourth-year appeared at Harry’s
shoulder, eyes wide and voice breathless from their struggle to reach the two
First-years.
“Um, I thought you should know that I saw that friend of yours run into a
bathroom on the second floor. She was crying.”
Harry’s eyes went wide as he looked to Ron - distress. “They won’t know about
the troll!”
“Bloody hell,” Ron cursed, hand unconsciously tightening around Percy’s. Trolls
were dangerous. Neville and Hermione were in serious trouble. “Perce…”
“You go on ahead,” Percy decided, letting Ron’s hand go and pushing the boy
toward the stairs. “I’ll go get the other two.”
“No way!” Ron decided instantly. “It’s my fault they’re in trouble! I’m going!
Arguing with me will only waste time. We need to get them quick.”
Percy gave his brother an angry glare, but Ron was right. They didn’t have
time. Turning, he practically ran toward the second floor bathrooms with Ron
and Harry chasing after him. It should be okay. The troll was in the dungeons.
They’d get the other two and hurry up to the Tower. It’d be fine…
…
Draco hid under a table. It took ten minutes for everyone to leave and then a
few minutes after that before Quirrell got to his feet, no longer looking
terrified. Draco felt cold. In the weeks that Draco had been spying, Quirrell
had acted suspicious as hell, but he’d never dropped his act so completely. It
was like he was a different person altogether and it made goosebumps rise along
Draco’s arms.
Quirrell strode with purpose down past the head table and out a side door
obscured by banners. Draco followed as quickly and quietly as he could without
giving himself away. What he wouldn’t give for the map right about now! Not
that he really needed it. He had a feeling he knew exactly where Quirrell was
headed: the third floor corridor. Quirrell was making his move.
…
A strong stench filled the second floor corridor. Percy knew something wasn’t
right even before they turned the corner and saw the bathroom entrance smashed
in, debris and dust falling across the floor. A girl’s scream pierced the air.
This isn’t happening!Percy mentally screamed. It couldn’t have gotten up here
this fast! 
His heart pounded with terror. He’d never been so scared in all his life.
Trolls were out of stories and textbooks. The smell, the sheer size, the fear
of being hurt, of the younger kids being hurt…MerlinMerlinMerlin… 
“Get help!” he yelled as he ran forward to try and save the Longbottoms.
Ron shoved Harry, echoing, “Go! Get help!”, before running after his brother.
Eyes wide, heart pounding with adrenaline, Harry hesitated for a brief second
before turning and sprinting back toward the main cross-section.
…
Draco pressed his back flat to the wall and slowly peeked his head around the
corner. Quirrell muttered something, his wand moving in intricate patterns. His
other hand was splayed palm out toward a door. 
-fear determination - filled the bond with the flavor of metal. Draco pulled
his head back, breathing hard. What was happening with Harry? 
Sound hit the air, deep and powerful, with repetitive booms. Draco covered his
ears and staggered away from the wall. Slowly he realized it was barking. Eyes
wide, he tried to estimate how big the dogs had to be to make a sound like
that. What the hell? Was that even possible? 
He took another look around the corner to see a massive grey paw fill the
entire doorway with claws black and deadly. Quirrell staggered back, casting a
fire spell that made the paw yank back, but the barking continued even after
Quirrell slammed the door shut. 
…
Harry almost ran into Professor Snape. The man had been running up the stairs
toward the third floor after seeing his Slytherins to the dorm, but he stopped
at hearing Harry’s desperate cry.
“Please! Help! The troll! It has students pinned in a bathroom!”
Severus looked furious, more furious than he ever did in class, and practically
flew back down the stairs. 
Harry turned and ran after him - desperation fear. 
…
The troll was as dumb as a bag of rocks, but it was huge! Three times the size
of Hagrid, it barely fit in the bathroom. It had a massive club and a
loincloth, hugely muscled arms and legs, skin a moss green color, and sharp
yellowing teeth like a shark’s. 
Percy attacked it from outside the bathroom, drawing its hungry attention from
Hermione and Neville who were huddled terrified under a sink. Their hands were
over their ears and they were screaming, torsos curled close over their knees. 
Annoyed, the monster bellowed and took another swing at the wall. Stone
shattered with a deafening, terrifying crash, making the floor vibrate and the
whole world seem precarious. Percy was clipped by a piece of debris and went
down to his knees, his shoulder bleeding. Neville and Hermione began sobbing,
now clinging to each other desperately.
“Wingardium Leviosa!” Ron bellowed and the club was lifted out of the troll’s
hand. With a scream of rage and fear, Ron swung his wand as he would a baseball
bat with all the strength in his arm. The club swung around, mimicking Ron’s
movement and hit the troll square in the face. 
Blackish blood burst from the monster’s face, splattering the walls and floor
as the troll staggered and fell against the bathroom wall. Again the floor
shook. The bathroom stalls fell toward Hermione and Neville with a bang. 
“Run!” Ron cried desperately. He reached his hand forward uselessly, too far
away and too slow to stop it. His heart practically leapt into his throat,
certain he was about to watch classmates die right in front of him… 
Neville grabbed Hermione’s hand, yanking her toward Ron, but the stalls fell
with a crash right on top of her. She gave an agonized cry as she slammed face-
first to the ground, the stalls pinning her legs brutally to the floor.
“HERMIONE!” Neville screamed.
The troll gave a roar and pushed off the wall, reaching for Neville.
…
* Harry! * Draco called through the bond, an instinctive reaction as his boy’s
fear screamed through him. 
Draco pushed his head around the corner one last time only to see Quirrell
standing inches away staring directly down at him. A demented smile twisted the
man’s face. The smell of garlic wrapped around him, hitting Draco’s senses like
a punch. How the hell had the man gotten so close without Draco smelling him
sooner?! 
Draco’s eyes went wide in horror, his heart thundered in his chest as
adrenaline soaked his system.
“Well, well, well…” Low and menacing, Quirrell spoke without a single stutter.
A faint red glow seemed to come from his eyes. “Finally caught the rat that’s
always scurrying around, following me, watching me. Thought you were clever,
did you, boy? You’re going to wish you had left well enough alone…”
Draco bared his teeth, backing up and giving himself some room. His magic
coiled tightly, waking up from deep in his core with the realization that:Harry
needed him; this bastard is a threat to Harry! 
“What are you going to do, Professor?” he drawled, heart pounding as his vision
went crystal clear, his body and mind primed for battle. He hadn’t been looking
for a confrontation, not so soon, but like hell he’d back down now. 
Eyes glinting silver, his voice dripped with mocking disdain, “Kill or hurt a
student? I’m Draco Malfoy! The whole world knows my name. Something happens to
me, your cover’s blown.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that.”
Quirrell laughed, high and insane. The sound was so foreign, so inhuman, it
literally made Draco feel cold. His heart beat so hard it seemed to pound at
the inside of his throat. Draco clinched his fists, trying to steady his
screaming nerves.
“Tell me something!” Draco demanded, stalling. He dug his nails into his palm,
cutting deeply, getting his blood flowing. “Who’re you talking to when you’re
all alone? I’m betting Voldemort. Do you do it through a mirror? Something
else? Well, I’ll just bet Dumbledore will love going through your things to
find out, traitor. And he’ll just love to hear about how you’re always creeping
around this corridor. Finally found a way to get the door open, huh? Fat lot of
good it did you,” he finished with a sneer.
As Quirrell snarled and lunged forward, Draco flung up his hand, splattering
the asshole with his potent, magic-imbued blood.
…
As Snape and Harry sprinted onto the scene, they saw dust rolling out of the
shattered bathroom doorway and could smell the gut churning stench of troll.
Chunks of stone were flung across the hallway. Percy Weasley was on his knees,
blood spilling from his shoulder. The sound of children screaming made every
hair stand on end. Snape practically flew into the bathroom, wand stabbing
forward as he bellowed, “Bombarda!”
The seven foot monster standing inside the demolished bathroom flew with great
force right through the wall away from Hermione and Neville. As more debris
fell from the roof and more dust filled the air, choking them, it screamed in
rage. 
Harry ran right past Snape, ignoring the man’s angry call of his name -
determination fury.His friends needed him! They were going to die! Troll blood
made the floor slick. His leather shoes slid slightly, the heel made him
slightly unsteady, but then he was there. Neville looked up at him with such
painful hope that Harry almost collapsed underneath it. He was useless! He was
going to FAIL! -but still his body moved, still he tried.
“Get to your brother!” Snape yelled, grabbing the younger Weasley by the back
of his robes when the redheaded boy tried to go after Harry. He flung him back
through the broken doorway.
Huge green hands grasped the edges of the hole that its body had made and began
to pull itself through with another wall-shaking scream. 
At the crunch of stone under the beast’s hands, Harry looked over his shoulder,
green eyes wide and wild, gasping in fast terrified breaths of the stench-
filled air. Whipping his head back around toward his terrified friends, he
raised his wand, trusting Snape to protect him.
…
Quirrell instinctively flinched backward and flung his arm up to catch most of
the blood with his robe sleeve. The cloth immediately began to smoke as if acid
had splattered it and Quirrell shrugged his robe off in a smooth gesture,
letting it pool on the floor. A few drops had landed on his wrist and the back
of his hand. It burned fiercely, disintegrating the skin and searing down
through muscle to bone. 
Quirrell screamed! His voice distorted the air, layered with a higher pitch,
eerily doubled. 
Draco wound up to fling more at the bastard, but he felt his arms get yanked
viciously backward before he could finish the swing. His arms were magically
bound from elbow to wrist, hands falling just below his ass, in a position he
had once been terribly familiar with. Ice speared his insides and, with
terrible understanding, Draco realized he should have run as soon as he saw
Quirrell so close. His stupid instincts had led him to hold his ground instead.
Terror opened up a pit in his stomach. He was helpless.
Shit, god no, not again…“Fuck,” Draco gasped, staring in horror as Quirrell’s
face seemed to blur for a second. 
A monstrous mouth, wide and gaping, blazing red eyes… Draco bit back a whimper
and flinched back, his arms hitting the wall hard. With desperate terror, he
bit his cheek, the pain hardly registering as poisoned blood slowly filled his
mouth.
…
“Wingardium Leviosa!” Harry screamed fearfully, desperate to save his friends. 
Harry’s desperation-filled spell slowly lifted the heavy stalls off Hermione.
Neville was already pulling on his sister’s arm, screaming mindlessly with
fear. As soon as they lifted enough, he dragged her out from underneath. Harry
let the stalls drop with a bang and began to help Neville pull her toward the
bathroom door. Harry tried not to see how her legs seemed crushed and bowed in
weird places or the swath of blood that trailed in her wake… 
Tears spilled over Harry’s cheeks while Neville babbled hysterically promising
everything would be okay. Hermione sobbed in pain, unable to walk. Her cheek
was scraped and raw, blood trickled down her chin from her split lip. She
looked battered and small and so unlike herself. 
Snape cast spell after spell, giving them the chance to drag Hermione clear of
the rubble and the shattered doorway. The troll bellowed. Its skin smoked and
steamed as it staggered back, but it was determined. Eyes red and frothing at
the mouth, it flung itself forward again and again, trying to smash-break-eat
them!
…
Quirrell stood over Draco, his expression cold, eyes burning red, and cast
another pain spell. He’d dodged the mouthful of blood the boy had spat at him
like a wild thing and reflexively brought the child down with a spell that
caused many grown men to weep like a baby. The child had hardly shown a
reaction. 
“You’re powerful, boy,” Quirrell whispered softly, caressing the words almost
seductively. “Murderous. Dark. You’ll be a great weapon in my hand.” 
Quirrell watched fascinated as the boy went rigid, muscles tensed into corded
lines, but still he didn’t scream. That only delighted Quirrell more. He
released the spell and the boy went limp, crumpled on his side with his arms
bound behind him and blood trickling out of his mouth. His blond hair had long
since fallen from behind his ears, fanning across his cheek, darkened and damp
with sweat.
“I’m temped to see if Cruico would win a scream from you, but that would leave
evidence behind.” He crouched and gently stroked the boy’s hair, moving it away
from his face so he could see it better. “You won’t be telling anyone about
this or me, I’m afraid.” He smiled darkly. “But do not fear, I will not forget
our time together, Draco Malfoy. I have great plans in store for you and your
inborn power.”
As Quirrell’s burnt and damaged hand grabbed Draco face, a spike of pure agony
split Draco’s head open as if it had been brutally cleaved in two. Draco bared
his bloody teeth in a vicious grin. He fought the invasion with everything he
had, his body going into a full-blown seizure, but he lost.
Lost, broken… underneath a man once again, he had everything he was twisted
cruelly. Draco’s psyche screamed in utter agony that thrilled the man ripping
him to pieces… The terrifying howls of three massive dogs filled the corridor. 
…
Dumbledore and McGonagall arrived just as Harry and Neville managed to drag a
sobbing, whimpering Hermione out of the bathroom. Dumbledore’s blue eyes blazed
with power he usually kept hidden. His white hair and beard seemed to lift
slightly as if on a breeze. His movements were strong and fast. McGonagall
wasn’t nearly as flashy, but she was efficient and confident. With Snape
joining them, fury lacing every spell, it was over within a few minutes. The
troll was left bleeding, unconscious, and bound.
“I will take care of the troll,” Dumbledore said gravely. “Minerva, see to the
school. Severus, take the children to the infirmary.”
“There is something I need to check on,” Snape insisted.
“Very well,” Dumbledore allowed after a brief hesitation. He turned sharp eyes
to McGonagall. “See to the children. I should only be gone a few hours.”
She bowed her head. “Yes, Headmaster.”
…
The pain was indescribable as Draco’s mind was brutally torn open. His defenses
only slowed the monster down, did nothing to stop it. He was helpless. Chucks
of memory, of who he was, was shoved this way and that, his mind being
forcefully remade. 
Helpless, torn apart, Draco’s consciousness sank into a place that he once knew
so well. He knew no amount of begging for it to be over would stop the mind-
shredding pain. The only thing he could do was hunker down and endure.It hurt,
hurt, HURT!He sobbed and whimpered brokenly as it went on and on. 
In his mind, the image of Quirrell fractured, shattered painfully as his
memories and consciousness were pulled apart like taffy. Quirrell was made
harmless, Draco’s paranoia and deadly intent shifted to Snape, Harry’s
headaches an allergy to garlic, nothing to worry about. It was all Snape, the
traitor, the one who was a danger to them all… 
Quirrell grinned as he stared down at the small boy. He was crouched before the
child, looming over him, hovering too close. The boy sat against the wall,
breathing hard, eyes glazed with acute suffering. Tears streamed down his face
as he made these soft sobbing sounds. Eleven years old, so young, but his mind
had been so tangled and full of blades. In time, he’d become something fierce
and formidable. Quirrell caressed the child’s face, nails thick and yellow
against the soft, pale skin of the boy’s damp cheek, before hearing footsteps
approaching. He reluctantly pulled away. 
“Until next time, Draco,” he whispered softly.
…
Severus strode down the third floor corridor, breaking into a run as he passed
the sound ward and heard the howling, barking madness of the cerberus. He
unlocked the door to the chamber with the first trap and was immediately set on
by the monster. He dove away from the doorway, but a claw still managed to nick
his leg. His slammed the door, heart thundering in his chest. A quick bandage
spell stopped the bleeding, but something wasn’t right. Something must have
agitated the beast to be so ready for violence. The beast’s barking was
deafening.
Concerned, he hurried down the hallway, trying to see if anyone were fleeing
the scene and ran smack into Draco Malfoy. The boy tumbled backward, falling
hard on his butt. His eyes were wide and wild, a snarl twisting his features.
Severus narrowed his eyes as blood slowly trickled from the boy’s nose and out
the corner of his mouth. Tears streamed down the boy’s pale cheeks. 
“Draco, what happened? Are you well?”
Draco got back on his feet, swaying slightly. Sweat dampened his face and
darkened his hair. “Could ask you the same thing,” he said lowly, voice thick,
hoarse. “Something you need over here? I’m sure you have other things you
should be doing than lurking around this corridor.”
Severus had no time to argue with the boy. Something had clearly happened. He
had to find the traitor; they had to know which of the staff was contaminated.
“Harry was taken to the infirmary. I suggest you go there as well.”
“And leave you here to steal whatever it is Dumbledore’s protecting?” Draco
took an aggressive step closer, eyes glittering with malice. “How long have you
been in Voldemort’s service, traitor?”
Severus reeled back as if struck. “I don’t know to what you’re referring,” he
said numbly, his mask slamming into place from long years of practice. “Why
don’t I escort you to the infirmary. You’re obviously unwell.”
Draco said nothing to that, letting a sneer of disgust speak for him, but he
followed the man when he turned and made his way back down the corridor. At
least it got Snape away from the third floor corridor for now.
Draco stared grimly at the professor’s back. He’d make sure Snape didn’t get
his way and that Dumbledore’s item stayed safe from Voldemort. Once Draco
figured out how Snape was keeping in touch with the Dark Lord, he’d reveal him
for the bastard traitor he was. The taste of salt and blood filled his mouth,
making him grimace and his stomach roll, but his silver eyes stayed focused on
Snape’s black-robed shoulders.
…
Harry looked up as Snape strode into the infirmary with Draco in tow. He took
one look at Draco’s pale, blood-streaked face and ran to his side - worry love.
Draco opened his arms, holding Harry safe and close, but his eyes remained
narrowed on Snape’s form. 
“You’re bleeding,” Harry murmured, reaching up to gently wipe some of the blood
away.
“Just a nose bleed,” Draco dismissed. His attention finally shifted to Harry.
“What happened?” he demanded, carding a hand through Harry’s dust-coated hair.
Harry dutifully told the story of his adventure - pride worry.
Draco’s grip tightened in Harry’s hair, distressed that the boy had come so
close to danger and he hadn’t been there, but Harry was proud of himself. Draco
could feel the tentative belief that he’d done good a flicker through the bond.
If Draco got mad or scolded him, Harry’s fragile self-worth would be crushed to
dust and three times as hard to bring back to life. 
“Good boy, getting help,” he murmured. “You saved their lives.”
- happy pride -Harry smiled, hiding his face against Draco’s shoulder. “But
Hermione’s still really hurt…” - worry guilt.
“She’ll be fine. Pomfrey is a good healer, remember?” Draco closed his eyes and
just held his boy close. 
He had to do better. He had to protect Harry! The fact that Harry had run into
Snape of all people, alone for that brief moment, made chills run down his
spine. He opened his eyes and stared malevolently over Harry’s head at Snape.
Snape was fucking lucky Harry hadn’t been hurt or Draco would have killed him,
consequences be damned. 
Dark eyes stared back at him, expression blank, and Draco bared his teeth in a
dangerous, blood-coated grin.
…
“I’m sorry, Severus,” Poppy said softly. The room was dark, the children
spelled into a deep sleep as they lay in her hospital beds - for observation,
she’d told them. “I scanned Mr. Malfoy twice. There’s nothing wrong with him
that I can see beyond exhaustion. He had a bitten cheek and punctured palm, all
easily healed.”
Severus stared at the eleven-year-old boy tucked into the narrow bed. Harry lay
in the bed next to him, their hands reaching across the space between them,
fingers linked even in sleep. Draco looked so small, so young. Severus was
deeply disturbed by their earlier confrontation. Something had happened and
Severus feared for the boy. 
What did you get yourself into? he thought, feeling grim.
“Thank you, Poppy,” he said, voice equally soft, and spun on his heel, making
his robes flare. “I must report to the Headmaster.”
…
Harry woke shortly after dawn. He was exhausted, but the night before had left
him feeling like he was rattling inside his own skin, too anxious to sleep. The
blurry outline of Draco in the next bed soothed him and he held tight to the
blond’s hand. He almost made it back to sleep when he heard Neville’s soft
crying.
Harry frowned. Sitting up, he grabbed his glasses off the nightstand with his
free hand and slid them on his face. He blinked a few times to clear his vision
and saw that Neville was in hospital pajamas and stood next to the bed across
from him. It was Hermione’s bed. Looking to his other side, he saw Percy sound
asleep.
Harry carefully climbed out of bed, noticing that he wore hospital pajamas,
too. Gently placing Draco’s hand on his chest, he tiptoed across the room.
Neville looked up at him, eyes red-rimmed and tormented. Harry’s heart
clenched. He wanted to help, but he had no idea what to do. His eyes
unconsciously darted back to Draco’s sleeping form. He would know. Draco always
knew.
“I couldn’t help her,” Neville rasped hoarsely. “She’s really hurt, Harry.”
Harry looked to where his roommate gestured and saw that there was something on
Hermione’s legs underneath the blankets. Some kind of cast or brace. 
Harry bit his lip, his heart suddenly pounding harder in his chest -
uncertainty guilt. He could heal her!… But if the wound was very bad, it would
make Harry weak and dizzy and possibly pass out. He could even hurt himself
because he always lost a dangerous amount of weight when he healed big things
without Draco’s magic bolstering his own. 
His throat tightened and he became aware of the collar at his throat.
Unconsciously, Harry relaxed; his nerves settled. “Madam Pomfrey’s a really
good healer,” he repeated Draco’s words to himself as well as to Neville.
Percy sat up, woken by the boys’ voices. He rubbed tiredly at his eyes. “You
two should still be sleeping. What’s going on?” He was topless, a big white
bandage wrapping his shoulder.
Harry looked to Neville, but the other boy had no intention of speaking.
“Hermione’s hurt,” Harry finally said and glanced back at Draco worriedly. “And
Draco won’t wake up.”
“Hermione’s going to be fine,” Percy told them, voice and eyes gentle as he
slipped on his glasses. “I heard Madam Pomfrey talking about it. She’s going to
need treatment for a few weeks, but she’ll make a full recovery. As for Draco,
Madam Pomfrey said he was exhausted. She probably gave him something to help
him sleep.”
Neville ducked his head. “I just wish I could have helped her before she got
hurt in the first place. I… I was so scared. I didn’t know what to do and she
got hurt.” Large tears rolling down his raw cheeks, Neville looked up at them
and confessed, “I wish I were stronger.”
Sympathetic tears filled Harry’s eyes as he reached forward and took Neville’s
hand. He knew exactly how Neville felt. “Me, too.” 
Percy tried to get them back into bed, but they stood by Hermione for almost
half an hour before Pomfrey came to check on them. She ordered them breakfast
trays and told them to get back in bed and take it easy. 
All five of them had been excused from classes for the day. Ron had been as
well, but he had insisted on going back to the Tower last night. (He hadn’t
trusted Pomfrey to release him in the morning and judged it better to avoid her
clutches if possible.) He knew both Harry and Hermione would worry about
missing class and had promised to take notes for them. Harry and Neville shared
a grin at that. Maybe those two would finally stop fighting now. 
Chapter end.
***** At the Lake *****
At the Lake
Harry sat cross-legged on Draco’s hospital bed with Draco’s head resting on the
pillow next to his hip. It was nearing dinner and still Draco hadn’t woken.
Percy had left at lunch. Hermione had woken shortly after. She’d been
withdrawn, but her eyes had been alert as Pomfrey had explained her condition
and healing regiment. 
She’d have to stay in the hospital for two days and then use a cane to walk for
a few weeks after that. If she had merely broken bones, Pomfrey could have
healed her completely in twenty-four hours. However, Hermione’s right knee had
been shattered. The combination of ligaments, cartilage, and bone took longer
to fix. 
Harry had retreated to Draco’s bed after that. He felt tense, pulled thin.
Something was wrong. Pomfrey assured him Draco was just tired, but Harry felt
it. Something was wrong. He would have tried to heal him, but he couldn’t with
so many people around. Draco’s hard rule was to keep their healing/kissing
private. Harry couldn’t disobey… At least not yet. Soon though. If Draco didn’t
wake up soon, Harry would prioritize Draco’s condition over the rules. 
On top of a chilling feeling of impending disobedience, he felt stressed about
Hermione’s leg. He could heal her, save her pain and recovery time, but Draco
had said no. Pomfrey was able to heal her. It would just take time. He still
felt guilty. Caught between his worry over Draco and stress regarding Hermione,
Harry felt wound tighter than a spring. Like he was barely holding on. 
…
Hermione sat up in bed and stared across the room at her friends. She’d already
sent Neville off. He needed a break and to get out of the infirmary for a bit,
but Harry refused to budge without Draco. He sat with his back to the headboard
on the same bed as the blond. 
Draco was sleeping, mouth slightly parted, hair splayed slightly on the pillow.
He was on his back, his breathing even and deep. Harry, on the other hand,
looked like a blank-faced doll. His dull green eyes stared unblinking behind
his glasses. His jet-black hair fell around his face and stuck up in places
around his head. He sat with an almost unnatural stillness. His hand rested on
Draco’s chest, fingers curled slightly as if he wanted to grasp Draco’s
hospital shirt and hold on. 
Hermione had already called his name a few times, but the boy was deaf to it,
trapped somewhere in his thoughts. She didn’t like how dependent Harry was on
Draco, especially since it didn’t go both ways. 
Sure, Draco cared where Harry was and what Harry did, but he left Harry behind
plenty of times to do whatever it was he did in secret. He did what he wanted
and told Harry what to do. There was no room for what Harry wanted. 
Not to mention, where was he when Harry, and even Ron, had come and risked
their lives to save her and Neville? He was doing his own thing like usual! She
had needed him… Harry and Neville had needed him… but he hadn't been there. Now
she was hurt and Harry looked broken and Draco just got to sleep peacefully as
if nothing was wrong! 
Why the hell was he even in a hospital bed to begin with? He was tired? She
snorted in disgust. Please! Harry worked so much harder than him! Between
Quidditch and their school work, Harry barely had any time for eating and
sleeping. He’d even fought a battle with a troll, and he was holding up better
than Draco was!
Crossing her arms, leg throbbing with painful heat with every beat of her
heart, Hermione scowled at the blond sleeping peacefully across from her.
…
Draco woke slowly. It was like climbing up out of blankets of cloying fog. He
became aware of his breath, of the feel of a bed at his back with his weight
pressing down. Then the psychic bond registered with the cold sting of - stress
anxiety. Draco’s fingers twitched, his breath hitched and he pried his heavy
eyes open. He had no memory of where he was or what had happened, only a sense
of Harry needing him. 
The blurry image of Harry sitting next to him, staring straight ahead slowly
came into focus. A slow blink; he noticed Harry’s hand resting tensely on his
chest. Draco lifted his arm and placed his hand on Harry’s. Harry took a deeper
breath and turned his head down and to the side so he could look at Draco. It
took a few seconds, but his jewel-bright eyes focused and actually saw him. 
- RELIEF worry gratitude - 
Tears filled Harry’s eyes as a smile spread across his face. He slid down to
lay on his side next to Draco so they were still facing each other. Draco
turned onto his shoulder, their heads rested on the same pillow, their noses
brushing. He lifted his hand to card it slowly through Harry’s wild hair. 
“What’s the matter?” he asked in a sleep-rough whisper.
Harry took another deep breath, letting the weight fall from his shoulders.
Draco was here; Draco had him. “Hermione’s knee was shattered. Pomfrey couldn’t
fix it right away. She’ll need a cane to walk for a few weeks. I want to heal
her. And you wouldn’t wake up, Draco. It’s almost dinner. You slept so long.
Something… Something feels wrong.”
Draco listened patiently, hand rhythmically stroking Harry’s hair. Trusting
green eyes stared back at him. It made his heart kick harder in his chest:
Harry needed him, Harry relied on him. A quick self-check revealed he did feel
heavy and kinda foggy. He understood they were in the hospital wing, but he was
blurry on why. There was a troll, but he didn’t remember a troll…
“What happened?” he finally asked, having a sense this would worry Harry
because he should already know. 
Harry related the events with the troll once again, but he couldn’t tell Draco
what had happened to him. He hadn’t been there. “You stayed behind to follow
Quirrell. After the troll, Snape found you in the third floor corridor.”
Draco began to remember seeing Snape, the booming barks… That traitor had gone
after whatever it was that Dumbledore was safeguarding from Voldemort! His
whole body tensed, but when Harry frowned and gently cupped his cheek, Draco
breathed out slowly and forced himself to relax. 
“Okay,” Draco whispered. He swallowed hard. His whole mouth felt suddenly dry.
The sharp memory of the taste of blood hit him hard. “I feel a bit foggy, but I
think I’m fine. You can heal me tonight.”
Harry nodded - relief love. “Yes, Draco.”
“As for Hermione… Let me check her out.”
Draco pushed himself up into a sitting position, basking in the warm -trust
faith- that shimmered through the bond. Harry sat at his side, close enough
that his wild hair brushed Draco’s pale cheek. 
The infirmary was wide and twice as long with dozens of rows of beds along each
side. It was empty save for Hermione who was pale-faced and glaring. Draco
frowned. He swung his legs over the bed and crossed the distance between them. 
“How are you feeling?” he asked softly, eyes running down her body and taking
note of the brace that was strapped to her right leg. The knee was swollen and
red/blue. Reaching forward, he hovered his hand a few inches above it and felt
the heat from there.
“Fine no thanks to you,” she answered coldly, arms pulling even tighter across
her chest. 
Draco glanced up at her face, surprised. Her eyes were bright with unshed
tears. There was anger there and hurt. Draco felt a pang. She had expected him
to come help and he hadn’t. Draco lowered his head. “I’m sorry, Hermione,” he
told her sincerely. “I promise I left for a good reason.” He glanced over at
his boy who was watching attentively from the bed across the aisle. “Be on look
out.”
“Yes, Draco,” Harry answered before tuning his attention to the room around
them instead of Draco and Hermione.
Hermione frowned and opened her mouth to tell him off, but Draco raised a hand
to stop her from speaking. He turned and sat half on the bed, twisting slightly
sideways so he could still face her. He lifted his hand, blocking his lips from
the rest of the room and began to whisper into her ear.
“I know I’ve been keeping this secret, but it’s for good reason. Harry’s in
danger, Hermione. Dumbledore is keeping some magical artifact in the school and
Voldemort is trying to get at it through a traitor so that he can be brought
back to full strength. You didn’t think a baby could really destroy a powerful
Dark Lord, did you? Something weird happened with their magic, but Voldemort
isn’t gone for good. Not yet. I’ve been keeping my eye on the third floor
corridor, trying to figure out who our enemy is and I caught him red handed! It
was Snape, Hermione! If Snape gets this thing, Harry’s the first one Voldemort
will go after.”
Hermione’s arms fell as she stared at him in horror. “My god…” she breathed.
Draco dropped his hand and grabbed hers tightly. “I have to protect him,
Hermione. I’m sorry I’ve been gone a lot, but I was trying to figure this out.
I didn’t tell you earlier because I wasn't sure you could handle it to be
honest, but it’s different now. I could really use a brilliant mind like yours
working on this with me.”
Hermione’s lips paled as they pressed tightly together as her mind raced. After
a moment, she managed to get out, “What makes you think I can handle it now?”
“Because,” Draco answered gently, looking intently into her eyes. “You’ve been
hurt. You’ve seen how dangerous things can get. You know now how serious this
is and what it could cost. You won’t treat this as some game.”
Breath shallow and fast, Hermione’s fists clenched in the bed sheet, her right
hand flexing under Draco’s firm grip. The thought of facing something like the
troll again terrified the hell out of her. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she
glanced at Harry who was still dutifully watching the room from the other bed.
If Voldemort was going to come back… Taking a deep breath, she squared her
shoulders. Harry had risked his life to save her. She wouldn’t do any less for
him.
She turned back to Draco and lifted her chin. “I’ll help you.”
Draco gave her a fierce smile and reached out to stroke her hair once. 
Hermione blushed and wiped at her cheeks. “Now start at the beginning.” 
Draco complied, going all the way back to Diagon Alley and their first meeting
with Hagrid.
…
Ron’s face lit up when they came down for dinner. “How’re you feeling? I took
really good notes today.”
“Thanks, Ron,” Harry said sincerely as he took his seat. “I really appreciate
it.”
Ron blushed red. “Don’t worry about it. How’s Hermione?”
Draco used both hands to tuck his hair tightly behind his ears before
answering. He gave Ron a tired smile. “Hurting, but she’s strong. She’ll be
okay.”
Movement at the corner of Draco’s eye drew his attention. It felt like the
world became made of sharp-edged glass. His universe oriented on Snape walking
out from a side door and settling at his place at the Head Table. His sallow
features set in a glare, the large hooked nose, the lanky hair framing his
face… Draco could see him as if he suddenly had the ability to zoom in with his
eyes.
* It was Snape, Harry. It was him all along. *
Harry shivered as the dark intensity of Draco’s mental voice filled his mind.
He instinctively ducked his head and glanced at the head table through his
thick bangs. Snape was looking their way. Harry resisted his first impulse to
look away. Snape looked as firm and unforgiving as ever, sometimes he was even
cruel, but he was also the man who had helped Draco with his flashbacks and
protected them from the troll.
Harry leaned over and placed his lips close to Draco’s ear. “Is he working with
Quirrell?” he whispered, trying to wrap his mind around Snape being the enemy.
    * Quirrell’s nothing but a pathetic loser, * Draco dismissed, eyes glued to
      Snape.
Harry sat back in confusion. He checked the head table, but Quirrell was not in
attendance. That wasn’t very unusual, though. Quirrell wasn’t a threat? Harry
looked at Draco in concern, but Draco didn’t seem to notice.
“What’s up with Snape?” Ron asked, butting in. One cheek budged with a bite of
bread. 
Draco tore his eyes away. “Nothing. Why?”
Ron frowned. “You were glaring at him. I thought he must’ve said something to
you?”
“No.” Draco shot the evil bastard one last glare before turning his attention
to the meal. He brutally stabbed a piece of broccoli. “He’s just an annoying,
old bat.”
Ron laughed, but then his expression sobered. “Yeah, but he was really
something with that troll. We’d’ve been toast without him, you know?”
Draco looked up into Ron’s blue eyes, suddenly sincere. “I’’m sorry I wasn’t
there. Thanks for protecting Harry.”
Ron blushed again, his freckles disappearing under a wave of red. He ruffled
his hair at the back of his head bashfully. “It’s no big thing.”
Draco refused to drop Ron’s eyes. “It is to me. Thank you. You were really
brave.”
Grinning at the praise, Ron bumped Draco’s shoulder with his own. “It’s cool,
man. Don’t worry about it.”
Draco let the subject drop, but he wouldn’t forget. Under the table, he took
Harry’s hand and entwined their fingers. Soft green eyes looked over at him and
Draco squeezed Harry’s hand. It was small and warm and soft. An intense burning
need to protect suddenly chocked Draco. His throat grew tight and his eyes
burned. He would keep Harry safe no matter what it took.
…
Draco told their housemates they needed to get some air; they’d been cooped up
in the infirmary for too long. Harry thanked Ron again for taking notes and
asked him to leave them with Neville; he’d look at them later that night. 
It was cold, but not too cold. Sweaters under their robes were enough to keep
them warm. The exposed skin of their hands and face grew cold to the touch. The
sun had already begun to set. Pink and orange began to bleed out of the sky,
turning a soft grey that was deepening into night. 
The boys didn’t talk as they walked down the grassy hill. Stone steps were
placed erratically along the way down. The castle began to shrink as they
walked away and cut toward the forest where trees and lake met. Hagrid’s hut
was higher up the hill. They could see that the windows were dark. Hagrid
wasn’t home; he was probably deep in the forest.
Harry took a deep breath of the cold air. The further they got from the castle,
the more steady he felt. It was just Draco and him here, and the prospect of
soon healing Draco, of being useful, warmed him from the inside out. Already
his nerves tingled in expectation of Draco’s mouth and teeth, of the pleasure-
pain that he craved and utter peace that followed. 
Draco hummed, creating a low purring sound deep in his throat. Harry’s emotions
pulsed warmly through the bond, making him hard. The skin of his cock head grew
sensitive as his pants rubbed against him with every step. Excitement and
anticipation made his heart pump hard in his chest. He looked around almost
desperately for a good spot. He had to have Harry under him, coming undone.
There! A flat, dark grey rock jutting out past the forest and a few feet over
the dark lake water. Orange and red leaves that were cast in shadow littered
the surface, crunching as Draco guided Harry onto the narrow stone shelf. 
“Kneel,” he commanded, voice low and intense.
Harry immediately sank to his knees, his head bowed forward, his hands
naturally hooking at the small of his back. 
Draco looked around carefully. The trees screened them from the castle and
Hagrid’s hut. All he could see was the lake and mountains before them and the
dark, looming forest behind. True dark was falling, further protecting them
from view. 
Draco shifted his attention to his boy. “Take your robe off.”
Harry reached up and undid the clasps holding the robe closed and pulled it off
his shoulders, letting it pool behind him. His messy hair blended in with the
encroaching night, but the fair skin of his face, slender neck, and hands could
easily be seen. He looked beautiful and Draco’s eyes lovingly traced the black
collar at Harry’s throat. Draco slowly mimicked Harry, undoing his robe and
letting it fall around his feet. 
“Now your sweater,” he ordered just above a whisper.
Harry pulled the dark red, thick sweater over his head revealing a white button
up with a red and gold school tie falling down his chest. The boy was breathing
faster, his cheeks had darkened with warm blood. - desire need anticipation -
filled the bond with prickling heat.
“Glasses,” Draco rasped. He was almost trembling with the desire to touch, own,
mark.
Harry set his glasses aside.
Draco crouched on the balls of his feet, worn Converse bending easily. Jeans
encased his legs, nearly skin-tight. The white collar of a white button-up
without the school tie could be seen above the low v-neck of his sweater. The
black, soft wool made Draco’s skin seem even paler, a milky white in the
darkness. Eyes gone sliver, glinting as he stared at Harry with absolute focus,
he watched his boy kneel with perfect submission. 
Slowly, one pale hand reached out and unknotted Harry’s tie. Harry sat still as
Draco worked, a faint tremble of need shivering through his muscles. The cold
stone under his knees seemed to seep in through his legs. The contrast between
that and the heat of his desire made goosebumps rise along his arms. 
Draco slowly slid the tie free of Harry’s neck and rose gracefully. He walked
around the boy and crouched again. His hands were warm as he maneuvered Harry’s
arms so that the boy's forearms were overlapping halfway down the boy's back.
He tied them in this position using the school tie.  It pulled Harry’s
shoulders back and his biceps tight to his sides, but it wasn’t a tight enough
pull to put strain on the shoulder joints. It was a soft hold. One Harry still
couldn’t pull free from until Draco released him. 
Harry began to pant, his pupils dilating - relief lust love. He was under
Draco’s complete control, unable to move, unable to make a mistake or get
things wrong. He was safe and wanted and made Draco happy. He was good. A moan
slipped past his lips.
Draco walked around to stand in front of the trembling boy. He let Harry revel
in the feeling of being bound for a long minute as he watched with hungry eyes
and listened to every soft sound that fell from soft, pink lips.
As their desire grew, their magic rose invisibly from their bodies to touch and
slide together in the air around them. Draco lifted his hands and felt Harry’s
attention as an almost physical sensation against his skin as those beautiful
green eyes watched as he slowly unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. He took a
measured step forward and brought his stiff member even with Harry’s mouth. 
Harry opened with a sigh, eyes fluttering. Draco reached forward and hooked his
thumbs at the corners of Harry’s mouth. Holding the boy’s jaw open and
preventing any forward movement, Draco kept him from getting too close.
“Lick me,” he rasped. Harry’s tongue darted forward, making Draco hiss. “Shit,”
he groaned, panting. 
Harry’s mouth and breath were hot while the air was almost painfully cold
against the wet skin Harry left in his tongue’s wake. Every hot swipe and lap
made him hiss and gasp. Harry was salivating, spit soaking Draco’s thumbs,
dripping down his throat, and soaking Harry’s shirt collar. It made Draco’s
heart beat even faster as drool glistened obscenely on Harry’s chin. 
The boy made a gorgeous picture: mouth wide open with Draco’s thumbs hooking it
open wide, glistening tongue wriggling and lapping at the soft skin of Draco’s
dick, cheeks flushed and eyes bright.
“Sit still.”
Draco took his slick thumbs from Harry’s mouth and steadied the base of his
cock with one hand, the other fisting Harry’s hair to keep the boy’s head
steady. A flex of his hips and his dick slid into the wide open mouth along the
boy’s tongue. He rubbed it there, shivering as Harry’s hot, panting breaths hit
the sensitive tip.
Draco groaned, shifted his hips, and deliberately began to tap at the back of
Harry’s throat. Harry made gagging sounds at each tap but held perfectly still.
Draco bounced faster - tap, tap, tapping - stopping only when he thought Harry
might actually throw up. 
“Keep it open,” Draco ordered hoarsely. 
He crouched down, not releasing his hard grip on Harry’s hair. With his free
hand, he quickly buttoned his pants to protect his wet dick from the cold. Then
he grabbed Harry’s tongue and gently rubbed it between thumb and forefinger.
Draco’s head was higher than Harry’s in this position and he leaned forward so
his mouth was above the boy’s. 
Harry stared up at Draco with - need adoration lust. His head was tilted back,
his mouth still wide open with spit drizzling out of the corners. His pupils
were huge, his chest rising and falling rapidly with every panting breath.
Electricity shot straight to his nipples as Draco continued to stroke and tug
at his tongue. His eyes widened. An excited gasp escaped as Draco opened his
mouth and a thick string of saliva dripped down, hitting Harry’s tongue and
sliding to the back of his throat. Harry swallowed instinctively -
DracoDracoDraco - filling his senses.
A hungry smile curled Draco’s lips as the string of saliva continued to connect
his mouth to Harry’s. Harry’s tongue writhed against Draco’s pinching fingers
and Draco let go curiously. Harry lapped at Draco’s spit, reaching for more. 
They moaned together this time. Draco bent closer, slightly curling over the
other boy, and began to lick at Harry’s mouth, the inside of his cheeks, the
roof, along his teeth. Finally, Draco rubbed his tongue firmly against
Harry’s. 
Harry held his mouth open the way he had been commanded. His heart beat so hard
it felt like it was going to leap out of his chest. His dick throbbed painfully
hot between his legs. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes as more and
more spit spilled past the corners of his lips and soaked his neck and shirt
collar. A whimper slipped up his throat as Draco’s teeth caught his tongue and
tugged playfully.
“Delicious,” Draco murmured, hot breath bathing Harry’s tear-damp checks.
“You’re fucking delicious, Harry.”
He stood and deliberately placed the ball of his foot against the small bulge
in Harry’s dark slacks. Harry groaned, curling over Draco’s leg and pillowing
his cheek on the blond’s thigh. The posture revealed Harry’s bound arms and the
vulnerable back of Harry’s neck. 
Eyes slitted with a predatory glint, Draco rubbed his foot in small circles
with an occasional soft thrust. Lust spiked through his system, making him feel
like he was burning alive as his thigh quickly grew wet with Harry’s drool.
Harry was moaning near constantly now. The air seemed to shimmer as their magic
began to merge and spiral. 
Draco tossed his head back, his blond hair bright under the light of the moon
as Harry’s magic played at the edges of his senses and slowly entered his body,
erasing every ache and filling him with energy. 
“Yes, Harry, good boy,” he murmured blindly up at the star-studded sky. 
-pleasure need euphoria - 
Head dropping down to stare at his boy once more, Draco pulled at Harry’s hair,
forcing him off his thigh and to sit up. Harry’s mouth was still obediently
open and Draco grinned fiercely. “Good boy.”
Harry’s back arched at the praise, head tilting submissively to the side and
revealing more of his collared throat.
Draco bent and grabbed the bottom of Harry’s shirt and lifted it, exposing
Harry’s slender torso and gorgeous, dark pink nipples. He bunched it up, making
it tight under Harry’s arms and stuffed the wadded up shirt into Harry’s gaping
mouth.
“Bite.”
Harry flexed his jaw, holding the bunched up shirt in his mouth.
Draco stood over him. He rubbed his foot against Harry’s crotch, enjoying the
sight of Harry’s exposed skin. He loved the way Harry’s jaw strained to hold
the shirt, the way his wild, black hair stuck to his damp cheeks. Loved the
soft lines of Harry’s chest and ribs, the dip of his stomach and perfect low
belly button. Draco especially adored his small nipples, the way they were
already pebbled. 
“Rock against me,” Draco whispered seductively. 
Harry groaned and flexed his hips, rocking up against the sole of Draco’s
Converse. It made the muscles of his stomach tense and ripple. Sweat began to
dew on his skin. Draco watched with unblinking eyes as Harry groaned and panted
and worked his body closer and closer to the edge. 
Draco reached down and pressed his palm firmly against his throbbing dick. Not
yet. “Don’t cum until I say, Harry,” he growled. Reaching forward, he touched
Harry’s cheek just under his eye with gentle fingertips. “Can you do that for
me?”
Harry whimpered, his muscles tensing to obey -PLEASURE need. He was so close.
The feel of Draco’s eyes on him, the sensation of rubbing against Draco’s foot,
the ache of his jaw as he held onto his rolled up shirt, the cold biting his
sweat-damp skin, his arms bound tight behind him - it all sent him into a haze
of pleasure, the end rushing toward him.
Draco watched as the struggle became more and more difficult. Harry was
dripping sweat. His eyes were wide and pleading as he involuntarily began to
thrust harder against Draco. Tears were streaming down his face, further
soaking his shirt. Fear began to trickle into the bond; Harry was about to fail
and disobey. 
Scream building in his throat, Harry began to tremble. His hips jerked
haphazardly. Draco stepped back right before Harry lost it completely. Harry
curled slightly forward, his damp bangs falling down and over his eyes. He was
panting hard and fast, on the edge of sobbing. 
“Good,” Draco rasped. “You did so good. Holding out so long. Good boy.”
Magic curled and tangled in tight, tense knots around them as Harry fought to
catch his breath and keep from cumming. Draco groaned and crouched. He twisted
both of Harry’s nipples brutally. Harry screamed, head flinging up and arching
his back, offering more of his chest for Draco to play with.
“Such a good boy,” Draco purred, eyes half-lidded as he looked on Harry’s
flushed face and dazed eyes. “Keep holding it, Harry. Until I say.”
His hands trailed down to unbutton and unzip Harry’s slacks. Harry didn’t wear
underwear either and Draco easily exposed his hard member to the cold air. It
was swollen and red, throbbing in Draco’s palm. Draco touched it softly, not
giving Harry enough to get off. 
“I want your mouth,” he murmured. 
Harry immediately released his shirt and Draco pressed his mouth to Harry’s in
a searing kiss. Meanwhile the blond’s quick fingers had Harry’s shirt
unbuttoned and spread in moments so that he could still access Harry’s chest. 
Draco pulled back, a string of saliva spiderweb thin between them. “That’s
better.” 
He smirked. One hand went up and three fingers slid into Harry’s mouth. It was
dry now from the shirt, only slightly damp. Draco planned on fixing that. The
other went down and pinched the head of Harry’s cock between thumb and middle
finger, closing the tiny hole at top.
Harry gasped at the sharp pain, shocking in its unexpected intensity, but it
was muffled by Draco’s fingers filling his mouth. The blond spread his fingers,
pushing out Harry’s cheeks slightly, the middle finger rubbing and pressing
down on his tongue. 
Draco watched Harry’s expressions intently as he finally released the sensitive
tip from the brutal pinch. He switched hands, stroking Harry’s throbbing
erection with his freshly damp fingers. His other hand pressed again at Harry’s
mouth. Three fingers slid in and out in a slow rhythm that matched Draco’s
stroking hand.
Tears streamed down Harry’s face from blind eyes. His dick throbbed with
painful heat that was soothed by the mind-numbing pleasure of Draco’s hand
rubbing deliciously. Trapped between the two fires of pain and pleasure, Harry
felt wrapped in layers of trust and lust. 
Draco hummed and pressed Harry’s cock flat to his belly. He pinched just under
the head. Harry screamed, the vibrations shooting up Draco’s fingers and
straight to his cock. Harry’s body arched beautifully. Draco leaned forward,
curling over him, and thrust his fingers in and out of Harry’s mouth faster.
Harry began to unravel under the agonizing pinches to the head of his cock and
balls intermixed with a damp fist jerking him off and fingers fucking his
mouth. He lost all sense of his body. Only of the pounding waves of heat,
pleasure, pain, and Draco. He existed only in a single moment of exquisite
sensation. He was the universe, and it was exploding.
Draco felt the bond swell. It slowly took over his mind and vision. Until all
there was were throbbing stars of white and red. Harry was gagging and
screaming, his body tensed and arched backward. 
Right before Draco lost control completely, he screamed, “Cum!”, and thunder
boomed as they both spurt wetly. Their magic burst outward in a concussive
force. The forest shook and the lake’s surface shattered with hundreds of
ripples. 
Draco rapidly blinked his eyes. His whole body tingled and throbbed, little
zaps of pleasure still firing through his neves. It made him shiver and grin.
He pushed himself up, realizing he was on his side facing Harry. His fingers
slid out of the boy’s mouth. A quick check downward showed him that Harry’s
penis was soft, still swollen and red around the tip. 
Harry was on his side, eyes mostly closed only revealing a sliver of white
between his lashes. The bond was hazy with static. Draco smiled soppily and
gently untied the boy, rolling him on his back and slowly buttoning his shirt
and pants. He caressed Harry’s face with gentle fingertips and butterfly
kisses, filled with so much love and contentment that he felt completely
melted.
Slowly Harry’s panting and racing heart slowed. His eyelashes fluttered and a
groan slid past swollen lips. Draco cuddled the boy, knowing Harry would be
sensitive and vulnerable until he recovered fully. 
Harry leaned against Draco’s side, head resting limply on the blond’s shoulder
- peace contentment love. His body throbbed, especially his penis, but he
thrilled in it. The soft kisses to his hair and cheeks, the gentle way Draco
wiped at his eyes - it made Harry feel loved and so damn grateful. 
“Thank you. Love you,” Harry whispered, voice still weak and raspy.
“I love you,” Draco whispered back, tears in his eyes that mirrored Harry’s.
“So much.” 
A sudden howl pierced the night. Draco’s head shot up, his whole body tensing
as he went on alert. Suddenly he realized that he’d been able to see Harry
quite clearly for a while now. With dread, he looked up to see the moon hanging
bright over the mountain ridge. It was full.
“Shit,” he hissed. Draco grabbed their clothes and pulled Harry to his feet. He
tossed Harry his glasses. “We got to go back. Now.”
Harry still felt foggy, but adrenaline began to wash his mind clear. Draco
shoved his sweater and robe at him. Harry fumbled with his glasses and
awkwardly pulled his sweater over his head. Draco pulled him forward and he
almost lost his balance. He clutched his school robe in his free hand as he
tried to keep up as the blond began to run.
The leaf-strewn ground made each step slippery. Breaking through the trees,
they skid slightly, holding on to each other to stay upright. They didn’t make
it. A lanky shadow broke free of the tree line a mere hundred feet from them. 
Golden eyes seemed to glow as they stared directly at them. Inhuman and
malevolent, the creature was hunched over and bulky in the shoulders with long
limbs. Its hands were more like paws with enormous claws. Its back legs were
bent at a dramatic angle, the feet long and strangely jointed. The beast had a
snout that fell open to reveal impossibly sharp teeth strung with thick saliva.
It was lightly furred with long ears pressed back along its skull.
Draco stood tense, his breath clouding in front of his face as the monster
slowly approached. Harry clutched fearfully to one of Draco’s arms, his eyes
huge. 
The werewolf snarled, the lips curling, revealing even more of the long, deadly
fangs filling its mouth. It walked on all fours until it was within twenty feet
of them. Then it rose up on its hind legs. The boys tipped their heads back as
the monster towered over them.
- FEAR -
Draco mentally shook himself. What the hell was wrong with him? He bared his
teeth in a ferocious grin, his magic kicking in and swirling out of the depths
of his soul. He shook Harry’s grip off his arm and took a menacing step toward
the creature. Harry was his! He wouldn’t let anything hurt Harry!
Harry stared at Draco’s back. His heart pounded furiously in his chest. His
fists clenched and he lifted his head. He wouldn’t let it hurt Draco!
Determined, he felt deep inside himself for his power. It stirred to life and
he sent it toward the blond. Protect him, he ordered it. Protect Draco!
The werewolf snarled. Draco yelled with all his might, felt Harry’s magic merge
with his own, and a concussive force hit the werewolf in the chest like a
truck. The beast was flung through the air. It hit the ground hard, yelped, and
tumbled before it rose up onto all fours. 
Panting, Draco watched as the beast growled and dropped low to the ground.
Draco braced himself for the creature to leap at them, but it didn’t move.
Draco’s heart began to slow. He stared the werewolf down and blinked when those
golden eyes looked away. Still growling, the beast slunk closer, but at an
angle so it wasn’t straight on. 
Draco kept his sharp eyes on it, power thrummed in the air around him. The
werewolf again stopped twenty feet away, but this time it stayed low. Draco
approached the monster. Harry tried to grab at the back of his sweater, but
Draco pulled free. The monster snarled and snapped its teeth at the air, but
they were nowhere near Draco’s body. 
Draco smiled grimly and placed his foot on the beast’s throat. “Hello, Lupin.”
Harry sucked in a startled breath. “Remus?”
The werewolf bit at the ground, growling. It could easily escape, but it
didn’t. 
Draco lifted his foot and let the beast go. Lupin scrambled to all fours and
trotted a few feet away before settling down on its haunches. Draco suddenly
laughed, the tension of the last few minutes bleeding out of him. 
He spun and grabbed Harry by his shoulders, hugging him close. “Come on. It’s
late.”
Keeping a close eye on the werewolf, they walked carefully toward the castle.
Predatory golden eyes followed them. When it was clear that it was being left
behind, the werewolf tipped its head back and howled. Draco gave Harry a grin
and howled back, long and loud. Harry giggled and added his voice to theirs,
the three of them howling madly at the moon.
Chapter end.
***** Curses *****
Curses
Remus woke to the smell of rich earth and the chirping of birds. Leaves
whispered and rustled above his head and he shivered hard as he registered the
damp cold against his naked skin. With a gasp, he sat up quickly, his head
spinning with the sudden change of position. His joints screamed in agony, but
he had long ago learned to ignore it.
He was outside. Last night was the full moon! Why was he outside? He’d never
escaped the Shrieking Shack once he’d locked himself up inside it before. It
had never failed him! Until now.
Heart hammering with terror, he examined his hands for dried blood and ran his
tongue desperately over his teeth. The faint taste of metal came to him and he
shuddered, heaving and gasping. Blood! Dear Merlin, there was blood! As he
turned to wretch pathetically to the side, he saw the corpse of a labrador-
sized spider next to him. It was half eaten. 
Gasping on a sob, Remus began to weep in utter gratitude. He hadn’t hurt
anyone! His heart slowed as did his sobs. Sunlight began to filter through the
canopy of tree leaves above him and he realized that he was still shivering. 
Sore, aching, and exhausted, Remus managed to get to his cabin without anyone
seeing him naked in the woods. The last thing he needed was for people to think
he was a pervert and start watching him more closely. He collapsed into bed,
but before he passed out he swore he’d figure out why the Shrieking Shack had
failed him. He’d figure it out and make sure it never happened again.
…
Coming back to the castle, the boys had almost been caught by Filch and Mrs.
Norris. Draco had ducked behind a knight, pulling Harry into his arms. Ms.
Norris had peered around the armored legs, eyes glowing in the dim light, but
Draco had opened his mouth in a simulation of a hiss, filling his mind with all
the ways he could make her die. She’d laid her ears back before bolting down
the hallway as startled cats do. Draco and Harry had to muffle their giggles as
Filch had hurried after her.
They’d only gotten about five hours of sleep, but it had been well worth it.
Neville hadn’t asked where they’d been last night. Draco kept an eye on him,
but he was in too good a mood to worry about the other boy’s suspicions, if he
even had any. Instead, he watched fondly as Harry dressed for the day. 
Harry pulled on a pair of black underwear that looked like tiny, skin-tight
black shorts, calf-high black silk socks, and a crisp white button-down.
Harry’s slender legs were then encased in black slacks and his shirt was tucked
in properly. Then Harry sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on a pair of grey
two-inch, high-heeled boots. Last, he deftly tied his red and gold necktie with
agile fingers before pulling on a grey, cashmere cardigan that had a low-cut v
neckline and his school robes. 
“You look lovely,” Draco murmured, smoothing Harry’s hair and causing a faint
blush to rise where the rims of Harry’s glasses touched his cheeks. 
Their happy contentment shattered as Draco took a bite of his breakfast and the
rancid taste of filth filled his mouth, maggots wiggling against his cheeks and
tongue. Eyes wide with shock, he spat out his food onto the table. Hermione and
the other girls around them all made horrified sounds. Draco stared down at the
partially chewed food. Nothing looked wrong with it. 
He thought for a moment, mind racing, before he scooped up some eggs. He turned
and caught Ron’s wide-eyed stare. “Taste this.”
“Wha - ” Ron didn’t get out the rest of his question before Draco snapped, “Do
it.”
Ron narrowed his eyes in a glare, cheeks flaming red. Dean and Seamus egged the
redhead on. The girls were squealing, “What’s wrong with you!” “Ew! Don’t!”
Draco maintained his hard stare, utterly serious. 
Scowling, Ron leaned forward and took the bite from Draco’s fork. He
immediately gagged and spat it out. “What the bloody hell?” he demanded,
horrified. 
Draco’s eyes narrowed. “So it’s not me that was cursed. It’s most likely my
plate.”
Everyone looked around suspiciously. They eyed their food. Fred and George
shared a glance before taking quick bites. They shrugged and gave Draco the
thumbs up. It was fine. The rest followed suit. Only the food on Draco’s plate
tasted rancid. Draco scowled and scooped a bite from Harry’s plate. Harry had
already pushed it his way in an offer to share. Immediately, he spat it out
again as once more the feeling of maggots and the taste of filth overwhelmed
him.
“Fuck!” he growled once he’d gagged and spit out the food. He quickly reached
for a glass of milk only to spit that out, too. 
Harry felt horrible for giving Draco bad food and lifted his fork to test it
before Draco could stop him. His eyes watered as he spat it out. It wasn’t just
Draco. The food from his plate tasted bad now, too. “Sorry, Draco…” he
whispered sadly. 
Draco was furious. It was one thing to keep him from eating. It was a whole
different story to prevent Harry from eating. “Ron, give Harry your plate.” 
“But!” Ron looked more horrified than he had when he’d eaten the bad food.
“Now!” Draco barked, fist hitting the table with a surprisingly loud bang. 
Silence fell around them, the First-years staring wide-eyed at the blond.
Ron sullenly passed Harry his plate. “Here, mate.”
Harry opened his mouth to protest, but the feeling of a hot laser boring into
the side of his head made him glance to the side. Furious silver eyes stared at
him, waiting for him to disobey. Harry swallowed hard, his heart kicking in his
chest, and took Ron’s plate. He ate with his head ducked - ashamed submissive
trust. 
Hermione gave Draco a worried glance. Her frizzy hair was pulled back in a low,
tight ponytail and still a few flyaways had escaped to fall around her face.
“What do you think happened?”
Ron forced Fred to share his breakfast plate with him. “It’s probably just a
prank.”
“Focused on me and anyone who helps me.” Draco shoved his plate away and braced
his elbow on the table, leaning his cheek against it. His other hand rested
where his wand pocket was located. “I suspect our friendly Gryffindor bullies.”
“Or the Slytherins,” Dean muttered. He was sitting on the other side of the
table and was glaring behind them at the table of green and silver.
“They would have targeted Harry, too,” Seamus disagreed. “Harry’s food was fine
until Draco tried to eat off his plate.”
Dean shook his head hard. “You saw what happened to Pucey for attacking Harry.
They won’t go after Harry directly again.”
“We don’t know anything for sure,” Hermione interjected firmly. “It’s useless
to speculate. We need to investigate and get hard evidence.”
“How’s your leg?” Draco asked suddenly. He studied her face, looking for
evidence of pain.
Hermione met his eyes easily. “It’s fine.” She looked down at the cane leaning
beside her on the other side of the bench. “I’ll have to use this for a week or
two, but I’ll make a full recovery.” She looked up at Ron and Harry across from
her. She gave them a small smile. “I could’ve been hurt way worse. Thank you
for coming when you did.”
Harry and Ron both blushed. Ron muttering, “It was nothing.”
“Neville and I have a pass to be tardy to classes because of my leg,” she
continued. “But McGonagall warned me that no one else is excused, so don’t wait
for us.”
Draco nodded. He took Harry’s hand as he stood. “Come on, guys.” He gave
Neville a meaningful glance. “Be careful.”
Neville nodded, face pale but set. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to
Hermione.
It was Saturday, November 2nd, so their first class of the day was their
Potions Practical with the Slytherins. Draco was already in a bad mood, but it
darkened further the closer they got to Snape’s classroom. Aggression pumped
through his veins. His fingers turned white as he gripped the strap of the
school bag that he wore across his chest.
“Here, Draco,” Harry said softly - worry concern.
Draco’s neck felt stiff as he turned it to see his boy. Harry had a red apple
offered on his palm. Draco felt his shoulders relax as he looked past the fruit
into Harry’s gentle green eyes. A rush of warmth softened his expression.
“Thank you.” It tasted delicious and he ate it happily, filled with Harry’s -
love.
…
Draco could hardly focus on his potion; he was too busy watching Snape through
the curtain of his bangs. He chopped and prepped what Harry told him to, but he
mostly left the brewing up to his boy. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off
Snape. Every time he looked down to help brew, he’d get a crawling sensation
along the back of his neck and an overwhelming sense of paranoia would make him
snap his eyes back up to see where Snape was in the room and see what he was
doing. 
There were all these dangerous ingredients around. Anything could happen and
Snape could easily make it look like an accident. The burn scar on his back
itched at the thought, making Draco want to lower his head and growl warningly
at the man. He didn’t of course. It would give too much away. He settled for
watching Snape like a hawk. By the time class was over, they’d produced a
mediocre potion and Draco’s neck cracked from tension as he rolled his
shoulders.
“Sorry, Draco. I’ll do better next time,” Harry murmured - disappointment self-
hate.
Draco cut his eyes toward his boy.
Ron looped his arm over Harry’s shoulders. “Don’t worry about it, mate,” he
said cheerfully. “Seamus’s cauldron puffed black smoke! Did you see?” He
laughed. “An A from Snape is as good as an O! Especially when he grades
Gryffindors.”
Ron’s kind words only made Harry more miserable. Now he felt - guilty - on top
of inadequate. He didn’t deserve kindness right now. 
Draco pinched the back of Harry’s arm sharp enough to bruise. Harry sucked in a
quiet breath at the painful sting but otherwise showed no other reaction. “You
need to study with Neville tonight.”
Hermione didn’t see the pinch, but she heard the comment and scowled,
unconsciously picking up her pace to try and keep up with the infuriating
blond. “Ron’s right. Harry’s potion and Neville’s were the second and third
best potions! And I do mean Harry’s potion. He might as well have been working
alone with as much help as you offered! So you have no room to complain about
the grade!” She tried to come off sharp, but she was breathless by this point
and her leg was beginning to hurt.
Draco slowed down to meet her pace. He tucked half his bangs behind an ear, the
rest still falling softly around his face as he walked. A single eyebrow lifted
as he regarded her with a cool look. “That potion didn’t really require two
brewers. Snape only pairs us because there aren’t enough stations. I notice you
didn’t accept much help from Ron either and yet you got an E.”
She opened her mouth to argue back, but Draco slashed his hand out in a cutting
gesture. The look on his face hardened into something more intimidating that
made her hesitate. 
“I don’t like you thinking Harry isn’t as capable as you are. You’re brilliant,
Hermione. Your memory is better than anyone else’s I know, but Harry is
brilliant, too. He’s perfectly able to get E’s.”
- doubt happiness - Harry blushed a pretty pink. “Draco, I…”
Draco’s intense eyes settled on Harry. He stopped walking, forcing the others
to stop with him. They stood in a main corridor, so other students muttered in
annoyance as they had to walk around their group. Draco didn’t care. He only
had eyes for Harry.
“You’re perfectly capable of getting E’s and even O’s,” he repeated. “I want
you to write down what you could have done better today in Potions and copy the
recipe three times before going to bed.”
- gratitude unworthiness - Harry teared up and hugged Draco. “Yes, Draco.”
Draco held him, one hand cradling the back of Harry’s head, as his eyes shifted
to Hermione. The girl was watching them with a slightly cocked head, a frown of
confusion on her face.
Taking Harry’s hand, Draco resumed walking. They were going to be late at this
point, so they might as well keep their pace to Hermione’s. If Ron cared about
the slow pace, he didn’t mention it. They had just reached the first floor when
Draco suddenly went sprawling. 
It felt like wire had hooked his ankle. He fell hard, jamming his wrists as the
heel of his hands absorbed most of the impact. His jaw also hit the floor,
snapping his teeth painfully closed. It was sheer luck he hadn’t bitten off the
tip of his tongue.
“Draco!” Harry cried, crouching beside him.
Neville grabbed Hermione as the girl teetered, almost tripping over Draco’s
sprawled form.
“Who the bloody hell did that?” Ron bellowed at the milling students around
them.
“Ron,” Hermione murmured warningly.
Several dozen students were near them, all in different Houses and years. Some
looked at them curiously, some were laughing, but it wasn’t the kind of laugh
that made them seem guilty just immature. 
Heart pounding with adrenaline, Draco pushed himself up so that he was
kneeling, pain throbbing through his senses. “Rahl?” he demanded.
“Don’t see ‘em,” Ron answered, glowering at the crowd.
Draco climbed to his feet with some help from Harry. His jaw and hands throbbed
hotly, but he wasn’t bleeding. “Come on,” he said quietly and walked stiffly
out the doors to the greenhouses.
They were all on alert as they walked to lunch after Herbology, but Draco was
left alone. They all breathed a sigh of relief only to tense up again when
Draco still couldn’t eat. Harry tried to keep things light and the conversation
flowing, knowing Draco wouldn’t want attention right now, but it was hard.
Draco was the only one sitting at the table not eating. 
It made Harry’s stomach clinch. The memory of the Dursleys and cowering on the
floor hovered behind his eyes. He ate half of what he normally would and only
ate that much because Draco glared at him when he stopped. If anyone was
underserving of food, it was Harry not Draco!
“Let’s go study by the lake,” Hermione suggested as lunch came to a close. It
would be nice to get out of the castle and away from whoever was cursing Draco.
Maybe they could relax. 
Harry, Neville, and Ron all agreed solemnly. They had all snuck food into their
bag, so once they were settled on the grassy bank of the lake, they pulled out
their offerings for the blond.
Draco gave them a closed-mouth smile, eyes soft. “Thank you.” He ate the bread,
cheese, and fruit as he worked with Ron on the Transfiguration essays due next
period. Neville, Harry, and Hermione worked on Potions, having already finished
their essays.
It was a beautiful day. The breeze was cool, but the sun was warm. The smell of
fall was in the air, the lake sparkling before them. Soon all the stress from
the day disappeared and they lounged, relaxed and happy as they studied, but
they hadn’t forgotten. 
As they made their way back inside the castle, they surrounded Draco, hoping to
protect him from further attacks. It didn’t work. They were just climbing the
staircase toward the second floor when Draco’s bag ripped open and all of his
notebooks, pens, and textbooks went flying. 
Harry, Neville, and Ron scrambled for Draco’s things while the blond stood
rooted in place. The stairs were filled with students. They were laughing at
him. Some were even annoyed for him being in the way, purposefully kicking or
stepping on his things. Cruelty shone in their eyes and rejection. Hermione
wrapped her fingers around his wrist and held on tight, her chin tilted up
defiantly.
The boys finished gathering his things, Ron having angrily cussed out several
people who got in his way or laughed at him. Hermione repaired the tear in
Draco’s bag, warning him it would only hold temporarily. 
They were putting everything back inside it when a Stinging Hex hit Draco’s
hand, clipping Hermione’s. She gasped at the pain and flinched back, dropping
Draco’s textbook. Her eyes stung from the sharp sting and she stared wide-eyed
at Draco who merely looked annoyed. The blond picked up the book she had
dropped and shoved it into his bag, glaring at the students who pushed past
them.
“Hurry it up! You’re in the way,” snapped an older Ravenclaw.
Draco grit his teeth, took Harry’s hand, and continued up the stairs with the
rest of them following. Harry didn’t duck his head as he normally would. His
head was up, his eyes attentive as he watched their surroundings. They were
late to Transfiguration. McGonagall assigned Draco, Harry, and Ron detentions,
scolding Hermione sharply for not taking their warnings seriously.
“Only you and your brother have tardy passes, Miss Pleasant. Do remind your
friends of that next time.”
Hermione tired to protest, but Draco squeezed her hand warningly.
“I don’t understand why you didn’t say anything,” Hermione snapped, frustrated.
Her cane hit the floor more loudly than it did normally, a sharp click with
every step as they made their way to dinner after class. Ron had asked Dean and
Seamus to walk at their slower pace while the rest of their class went on
ahead. The more help they had guarding Draco the better at this point.
“What can they do about it? We were looking out for something like that and
even we didn’t see who did it,” Draco answered lowly, eyes scanning the kids
around them. “There’s no point in telling them.”
As if to prove his point, Draco went sprawling in the Entrance Hall. Harry had
grabbed the back of his robes as Draco fell, but he wasn’t strong enough to
catch him. Instead, he was pulled down on top of the blond. Draco grunted at
Harry’s added weight. 
Scrambling off of him, Harry knelt by his side - anger self-hate. “Sorry,
Draco,” he said, voice thick. It was his job to take care of Draco and he was
failing!
“I’m fine,” Draco bit out. He climbed to his feet for the second time that day.
His wrist and knees throbbed. His jaw still ached from the first time. He was
getting seriously pissed off.
“What the hell is their problem?” Ron demanded loudly. 
“Hush,” Hermione tired to quiet him, but the redhead wouldn’t simmer down.
“Draco’s done nothing wrong!”
“I heard a few people talking,” Dean offered. He shared a glance with Seamus.
“Some of the upper Years. They were talking about Draco being behind the troll
getting in. Said it was some Malfoy plot to get rid of Muggleborns. That
Draco’s only pretending to be a Gryffindor so he’s not suspected.”
“I knew it was Rahl,” Draco growled, eyes glinting. “Only he’d come up with
something that stupid.”
“Even if that’s where it started, it’s gone beyond him now,” Seamus cautioned,
Irish accent softening his words. “There’s a lot of people who feel that way.”
“That’s bullying!” Hermione protested hotly. “We have to tell the professors!”
“If there’s so many people, it’s hard to tell who’s doing it,” Dean said
unsurely. “What are they going to do?”
“There has to be something!” Hermione exclaimed. “We have to try!”
They took their seats at their table. Draco didn’t even bother trying to reach
for the food. It didn’t matter though. Ron spat out his food with gagging
sounds, followed closely by Dean. Draco scowled furiously, grabbed his bag and
stood. Apparently, he wasn’t allowed to sit with them.
“Where are you going?” Hermione asked softly, worried.
Draco noticed the twins and Percy had similar expressions. “I’m going to study.
It would be a better use of my time. Come on, Harry.”
Harry immediately stood, - grateful - Draco was taking him along with him. 
The others didn’t know what to say and let the pair walk off. As soon as Draco
was out of the room, their food became edible again. The message was clear:
being friends with Draco came with a cost.
Draco took Harry straight to the kitchens. He was not going to let Harry miss
meals, so they would just have to eat by themselves until Draco put a stop to
this. He followed the directions he’d memorized from Dora and soon found
himself in front of a painting with a bowl of fruit. Tickling the pear, it
swung open to a vast room with large islands, tons of counter space,
fireplaces, and working elves. 
Harry took over, speaking kindly to the two elves who turned to see what they
needed. In less than five minutes, they were sat at a small wooden table off to
the side by one of the fires with two stools and a large spread of food. It
tasted delicious, confirming Draco’s suspicion that it was the plates and/or
utensils in the Great Hall that were cursed not the food itself.
Harry ate the food placed in front of him with no hope that they’d be able to
actually eat it all. The elves worked quietly, but there was still a nice
background hum of conversation and activity. The fire warmed him nicely, too,
and he shed his robe and sweater. He looked over at Draco with a smile, feeling
relaxed for the first time since the lake. 
Draco felt as if things were just slightly tilted. He could see Harry, feel the
peaceful feelings softly whispering through the bond, see his boy’s sweet
smile, but it felt at a distance. Behind glass. Loudest in his ears was the
slow, hard beats of his heart. His knees and skinned palms began to burn, the
echo of everyone’s laughter began to rise in his ears, distorted and wavering
as if he were standing on a stage with a whole stadium filled with people
laughing, laughing, laughing while he slowly bled. 
Harry froze - anxiety worry - spiking through his system. Draco stared right
through him. His face was utterly expressionless. Like he were a doll. No,
worse, as if he were dead. Was he breathing? “Draco!” - terror - Harry reached
for his arm.
Draco blinked. The strange sensation fell away. He blinked again and actually
focused on his boy’s frightened face. “What?”
Harry sat there, heart pounding in fear. “You… Are you okay?” he asked in an
unsteady whisper.
Draco gave him an easy smile. “Got a few bruises, but I’m fine. You can heal me
when we take a shower later, okay?” He saw that Harry’s hand was almost
touching his arm, hesitating. He smiled again and caught Harry’s fingers in his
own, linking them and letting them rest together on the table. “Don’t worry,
Harry. I’ll make sure these attacks stop soon,” he promised.
Harry stared intently at Draco’s face. He took in the soft expression, the
light in Draco’s grey eyes, the gentle smile. He was Draco again. “You… You
looked… bad,” he said in frustration. He didn’t have the words to describe the
utterly dead expression on Draco’s face. “Like you couldn’t see me…”
Draco frowned. His first impulse was to blow Harry off and that made him pause.
He would never blow Harry off! Had he felt weird a minute ago? He couldn’t
remember, but Harry’s alarm still jangled inside him. “Okay,” he said slowly.
“I feel fine now, though.” 
Harry gave an unsure nod. Slowly his anxiety bled away and his heart rate
returned to normal, but he was still worried. Something had happened to Draco
and it had been utterly terrifying. 
…
That night at detention McGonagall had Ron, Draco, and Harry write an essay
regarding the importance of punctuality. She gave them an essay frame for them
to use, briefly discussing with them the parts of an essay and the purpose of
each. It was good practice even if the topic was shit and the detention unjust.
Draco was exhausted by the time they made it back to the Tower. He pulled Harry
into a shower stall and sat on a low seat while Harry knelt and sucked at his
knees and palms, the warmth of sunshine and wholeness filling Draco with light.
Harry had then stood and bent forward to lick and suck at Draco’s bruising jaw,
the colors bleaching away under his touch. They washed quickly, Draco nearly
falling asleep in the shower. 
Sitting against the headboard, Harry stared down at the blond - worried. Draco
was sound asleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow. He looked fine,
even peaceful, his mouth slightly parted as he breathed in and out, his damp
hair fanned out along the pillow, his long pale lashes resting on his cheeks,
but the feeling of something wrong nagged at him. 
“It’s been a long day,” Neville’s voice said softly. Harry hadn’t shut the
curtains around their bed yet, the lamps still burning. “It makes sense he’s
tired.”
“You’re right. Good night, Neville,” he offered with a forced smile, accepting
the boy’s softly whispered, “Night,” in return. 
He blew out his lamp and pulled the curtains closed. He slid down, curling
around Draco and resting his hand on the blond’s chest, feeling for each breath
and heartbeat. It had been stressful, he wouldn’t deny that, but when they had
bad days, Draco became alert and watchful not sleepy like this. 
Harry stayed awake for an hour or more, just watching over the blond, but Draco
never moved or shifted, practically dead to the world. When sleep came, Harry
rested fitfully, waking up several times in the night just to check that Draco
was still there.
…
Lucius waited for Narcissa to fall deeply asleep before creeping out of bed and
entering his study. He unspelled the warded drawer on the right and lifted the
diary free. Quill in hand, he wrote his warning: Things are happening at
Hogwarts. I will be taking steps to safeguard my children soon. 
They had received the owl earlier that day informing them of the troll incident
at school. It came with Dumbledore’s reassurances that it had been handled
swiftly and that the children were safe, but Lucius was still displeased. Too
many times his son and ward had been put in danger already that year, he didn’t
like the trend he was seeing.
There was a longer pause than normal before Tom’s beautiful script bloomed
across the page. I see. You feel I’d be an added liability should my older
incarnation successfully complete a ritual of rebirth. 
Lucius held his breath, but he wrote nothing. He felt poised over a precipice.
It was unexpected and alarming. Why had he written at all? He should destroy
the diary immediately and weaken the Dark Lord’s path back from the dead…
Except it would be useless as long as Harry existed, anchoring the Dark Lord’s
soul to earth. 
Perhaps you should think about it from another angle. I could be an advantage,
Lucius. I must admit I am not happy with the reports you bring of my future
self’s actions. I had not taken Herpo’s warnings seriously. I merely thought he
lacked mental fortitude, but your testimony has made me reconsider. If you help
me, Lucius, I can help you destroy this failed incarnation of myself and
together we can rise in power and make our dreams a reality. We can change the
world, Lucius. Make it what it once was again. Now that we know what to protect
against, we can insure my sanity does not wane. Harry is safe from me. After
all, why would I destroy my own Horcrux? And if I am no longer a threat to
Harry, Draco should no longer be a threat to me. We can make it work, Lucius.
Together, nothing would be impossible.
Lucius slammed the diary shut, breathing hard. With a shove, he pushed away
from his desk and paced to the other side of the room. Tom was very persuasive
and a large part of Lucius liked what the brilliant teen had to say. 
Lucius deliberately turned his back and left the room, leaving the diary to sit
alone in the dark. He had a lot to think on.
…
Draco was tripped in the halls several times a day. His school bag continued to
rip open, spilling his things everywhere. While he was going to the bathroom in
between classes, the toilet had exploded up at him, splashing him with filthy
water. He’d missed his next class because of that to go get cleaned up, but
fortunately it was History of Magic and Binns didn’t really care or notice.
Draco was frustrated beyond belief! Dean and Seamus were right. It was more
than just Rahl and his group. A lot of the time, they were never around when
something happened to Draco. Their vicious rumors had done their job and now a
good portion of Gryffindor and upper-Years from other Houses were targeting
Draco because he was supposedly some traitorous snake. If Draco retaliated or
attacked Rahl, it would only justify their abuse and make them attack him more.
The First-year boys and Hermione did their best to shield Draco, and Draco and
Harry did their best to make Draco less of a target - using side passages,
avoiding crowds as much as possible, eating in the kitchens - but they couldn’t
prevent all of the attacks. It made Harry feel so useless. It was his job to
take care of Draco! Draco was important and always working on important things.
Harry’s job was to support him, and he was failing miserably!
…
Harry opened his eyes. It was almost pitch black inside the curtains of their
bed. Low-level anxiety that never left him and a sense that something wasn’t
right made him immediately reach out for Draco, but this time his fears were
justified. Draco wasn’t next to him. 
Heart thundering in his throat, Harry shakily pulled the curtain open and
turned the knob on the bedside lamp. A flame jumped to life, casting light over
the bed. Draco was sitting on the far edge, his back to Harry. Harry’s heart
plummeted as the blond remained perfectly still, unaffected by his - fear - and
the light. 
“Draco?” he whispered. 
He crawled slowly over, craning his head to get a look at Draco’s face. As if
in slow motion, Draco’s profile came into view, the curve his cheek and jaw.
Already something didn’t look right, but it was as if Harry wasn’t registering
what he was seeing right away. He continued forward, stomach clenched and hands
trembling, seeing now that Draco’s mouth was hanging open. His lips stretched
tight in the shape of an oval; it looked like he was screaming. Draco’s eyes
were open and unblinking, the pupils small. 
“Draco!” Harry rasped, - terrified. He flung himself at the blond, hands on his
shoulders, shaking him lightly, but he was so stiff. He hardly moved under his
hands. Red appeared at Draco’s nose, horrifically bright against Draco’s white
skin. It rolled slowly down over his lip. 
Magic swirled out from Harry, hitting Draco with more force than normal, fueled
by his - desperate terror. Draco’s back arched, his whole body going rigid as
if he was being electrocuted. Harry cried out, stopping his magic, afraid he
was somehow hurting Draco more, but Draco merely fell limp on the bed, eyes
blinking as he moaned softly. 
“Harry, wha time’s it?” he slurred.
Heart hammering in his chest, tears soaking his cheeks, Harry gently stroked
Draco’s hair from his face. His hand shook. “Draco…” He swallowed past a
painful lump in his throat. “Draco, are you okay?”
Draco captured his trembling hand and sat up. His nose had stopped bleeding,
but red was still smeared across his upper lip. “What’s the matter?” he asked,
eyes growing more alert as he frowned at Harry.
Through his tears, Harry dutifully described what had happened. 
Draco pulled him against his side and stroked his hair soothingly, rocking
Harry softly. “Shhh, it’s okay. You woke me up. You did so good, Harry.”
Slowly Harry’s shaking stopped. Draco kissed his head, his temple, his cheek.
He pulled Harry back up the bed and they laid down next to each other. Draco
peppered his face with kisses, licking the salt from his tears off his skin.
Harry melted under his gentle care, but his - anxiety - didn’t fade completely.
“I’m fine,” Draco murmured reassuringly. “I’ll go see Pomfrey before the game,
promise. Rest, Harry. Whatever happened, I’m fine now. I’m sure it’s just
another stupid curse. I’m sorry it scared you.”
Harry let Draco’s voice wash around him as his eyes fluttered closed in
exhaustion. 
…
They were in the Gryffindor locker room. The team was pulling on their
uniforms: red and gold half-robes, black riding pants and matching knee-high,
black boots. They were charmed with protective and cushioning spells to offers
some protection against injury. Harry wore the number seven on his back; Draco
wore the number fourteen since he was reserve Seeker.
Draco held Harry’s face in his hands, his grin nearly as bright as his eyes.
“Do your best out there, Harry.”
Harry leaned into Draco’s touch, his mind was still on last night. The image of
Draco’s mouth shaped in a soundless scream, the color red rolling down from his
nose, eyes wide and empty…
“Harry.”
Harry blinked green eyes behind round, black glasses and stared into Draco’s
commanding gaze.
“You’re about to play your first match. Lucius and Narcissa, Andy and Ted…
They’re all out there. I want you to show them how strong you’ve become. That
means you gotta focus. Pomfrey said I’m fine. It was probably just stress. You
gotta trust me.”
“Yes, Draco. Sorry,” Harry murmured and brought his whole attention back to the
moment. “I’ll catch the snitch for you,” he promised.
“Be careful. Remember you’re playing Slytherin,” Draco advised. “They play
dirty.”
Harry nodded.
“Alright, team! Huddle up!” Oliver called, breaking the moment between the two
First-year boys. 
Harry felt a small pang of loss as Draco released his face and took a step
back, but the slow, sweet smile that Draco sent his way in response made
Harry’s heart melt and his fears shrink. 
Oliver was clearly excited and nervous as hell; this was the first game as
Captain. He gave a long speech about winning and then they were running out of
the tunnel and into the bright November day. It was cold, and Harry smiled in
thanks when Fred and George cast warming charms on him. He looked through the
stands, searching for his family, but it was Draco who found them first and
pointed them out. Harry gave a wave, cheeks red with embarrassment.
Ted and Andromeda waved back happily; Lucius and Narcissa regally bowed their
heads. Other parents and a few fans from Hogsmeade also filled the spectating
stands along with most of the school’s teachers. Remus wasn’t there; he was
likely babysitting Dee. The rest of the stands were filled with what seemed
like the entire school. Draco and the two other reserve players moved to sit on
the bench, clapping and cheering. 
The whistle blew and Harry shot up into the sky, higher than the other players.
The Slytherin Seeker copied him. Harry kept him in sight, but he turned most of
his attention toward the pitch, searching for a glint of gold in the sunlight.
Within ten minutes, Angelina scored the first goal, causing the crowds to cheer
madly. Slytherin scored, Gryffindor again… Harry saw the Snitch! He angled his
broom - a brand-new Nimbus 2000, a gift from Narcissa and Lucius that had
arrived that morning - toward the ground and shot forward. Higgs was several
feet behind him. 
The cold wind rushed past his face, whipping his hair about, but before Harry
could get too close, a Slytherin player blocked his path, nearly making Harry
crash into him. Harry barely had time to veer away and lost sight of the snitch
in the process.
Madam Hooch called foul and awarded a penalty, which Alicia scored much to the
crowd’s delight.
Harry zoomed back up to a higher perch and scanned the arena again for the
snitch.
Draco basked in the - excitement determination- that beat like a second heart
through the bond. Harry was having fun. He had to admit the game was fun to
watch, even though the point system still made no sense to him. He rubbed his
hands together and blew into them, his nose red from the cold. 
The game was about forty minutes in. Suddenly - surprise fear- spiked through
the bond and Draco whipped his eyes up to see the boy barely holding on to a
broom that was jerking one way and then the other. Jinx, line of sight,the
knowledge rose through his adrenaline-soaked mind. 
“Grab the banner!” he barked at the reserved player next to him. He grabbed one
end himself, took his broom in hand, and practically growled when the other boy
was being slow about it. He looked like he wanted to ask questions, but Draco
ordered in a cold, dangerous voice. “Move it.” 
Following Draco’s lead and confused as hell, they rocketed up toward the
spectator’s box. Draco’s eyes immediately zoomed in on Snape as if pulled by a
magnetic force. The man had his eyes on the pitch, his mouth moving. Draco flew
as close as he was allowed and barked at the other boy to pull the banner
tight. Snape’s line of sight was broken by the bright red material with
Gryffindor written in huge gold letters. He gave Draco a furious look, eyes
dark as pitch. 
Draco glared back, baring his teeth. He turned his head to see Harry’s broom
had stabilized, the jinx had been broken. 
A wild cheer went up as Harry spat out the snitch into his hand. Draco whipped
his head around and gave Snape a triumphant grin, victory making him feel high.
He gave a whoop and released the banner, letting it flutter toward the ground,
as he flew over to his boy.
* Good job, Harry! Good boy! *
- pride shock- flooded the bond and Draco kissed Harry’s cheek.
The whole of the Gryffindor team was only a second behind him, crashing into
them and forming a massive crush in the air. Oliver was crying, he was so
happy. The twins thought it was hysterical that Harry had accidentally caught
the snitch in his mouth. They were laughing historically as they slapped
Harry’s back.
They had won 170-60. Flint threw a fit, calling foul, but Madam Hooch judged
the incident fair play - Draco had never entered the pitch after all and
whatever had happened to Harry’s broom had righted itself in less than a
minute. 
Everyone attributed the weird moment with Harry’s broom to him losing control
of the powerful instrument; he was only a First-year after all. Harry and Draco
knew better, but they were too excited about the win to worry about it right
then.
…
Severus eyed the people sitting nearest him in the stands suspiciously. Whoever
had been jinxing the broom had stopped when Draco had flown up to block his
view, so they had to be close. For a moment, he’d felt heart stopping fury,
terrified that without his counter-jinx Harry would be flung from the broom and
gravely injured, but Draco’s obnoxious move had miraculously still saved the
boy. 
Severus caught Dumbledore’s eye and gave him a subtle gesture before standing
in a swirl of black robes. Face perfectly blank, Severus turned and practically
flew from the stands.
…
“The boys will be celebrating with their friends. Let’s not disturb them,”
Lucius said softly, but it was clear he wasn’t happy. Narcissa was practically
clawing into his arm, but even she had to admit this wasn’t the time.
So rarely did they see Draco and Harry so carefree and overjoyed as they were,
caught in the middle of their cheering team. Besides, Draco had successfully
put a stop to whatever had effected Harry’s broom. Maybe it wasn’t anything
ominous; perhaps it had been a tasteless prank or some Slytherin sabotage. The
boys had things in hand. For now. 
“Why don’t we speak to the Headmaster before we leave,” he suggested. 
Narcissa nodded, worry evident in her eyes. Andromeda and Ted agreed
immediately. Andromeda looked dangerous, reminding Lucius she was a black, and
even Ted looked determined. Lucius gave them a sharp, approving smile before he
led them through the crowd to the Headmaster’s side.
“Headmaster Dumbledore,” he said with mock gentleness. “May we have a word?”
…
Severus paced across the Headmaster’s office, waiting for Dumbledore to appear.
He knew the Headmaster had to bid farewell to the guests who had come to watch
the match, but he was anxious and worried. It took nearly an hour before
Dumbledore finally arrived.
“Things are getting too dangerous,” Severus said lowly once the Headmaster sat
tiredly in the seat behind his desk. “Something is affecting Draco. I suspect a
mind spell from the symptoms the boys described to Pomfrey this morning. He
needs to be seen by a Mind-Healer.”
Dumbledore stared across at Severus unhappily. “I’m still working on getting
Nicholas to agree to destroy the stone, but he still isn’t ready yet. It wasn’t
safe even in Gringotts. There is no other place for it. We certainly cannot
allow Voldemort to gain possession of it or the Dark Lord will be resurrected
in less than a year. The boys aren’t ready to face that battle yet.” He sat
back and took his glasses off, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. “As for young
Draco, we cannot seek a Master Healer. Not just yet. Not until the issue
regarding the stone is resolved. The boys’ guardians are already threatening to
remove the boys completely. We have to think of the bigger picture.”
Severus practically snarled. “That may not be the worst idea! The children are
in danger, Headmaster! All of them! Draco has been attacked! Harry was attacked
just now on the pitch! The traitor grows bold!”
“There is no evidence to suggest that Harry was attacked by our traitor,
Severus. Perhaps it was a prank. Draco is unfortunately being targeted by the
students and that has spilled over onto Harry. We need to devise a plan to turn
popular opinion back into Draco’s favor.”
“Draco has been injured!” Severus protested furiously. “He needs treatment!”
Dumbledore closed his eyes for a moment before opening them. “Poppy assures me
the boys are perfectly healthy. We only have your suspicions that he’s been
attacked.”
Severus was too angry to be polite or humor the old man’s willfully blind
outlook. “There are many mind-spells that do not show up on a healing scan.
That’s why the excuse of the Imperius was so successful in getting people out
of trouble during the war. It is undetectable.”
“Then a Mind Healer’s treatment would likewise be uncertain,” Dumbledore
pointed out. “If your suspicions are correct, then we are too late to help
young Draco. We must protect the stone until I can settle things with Nicholas.
That takes precedence before all else. Likewise, the boys need to be here,
Severus. If they isolate themselves, they will have fewer allies in the war to
come. The future depends on them succeeding here.”
Severus refused to accept this was the only way. He gave the Headmaster a
disappointed look before slamming the door behind him.
Dumbledore seemed to wilt, a tired sigh rising from his lips. Fawkes flew over
to his desk and began to sing, but even the phoenix’s song couldn’t sooth him
completely.
Chapter end.
***** Darkness Closing In *****
A/N:Happy belated Halloween and sorry for the very late chapter. The chapter
was giving me a lot of trouble. I really wanted the atmosphere to be right.
Please let me know what you think of it!
Darkness Closing In
Minerva couldn’t sleep. The castle was dark and cold, winter fast approaching.
Moonlight illuminated her tired face in intermittent bursts as she passed
windows filled with crystal clear panes of glass. Her slippers shushed along
the stone floors. A single source of warmth was caught in her hand, a small
flickering candle held chest high. 
Her slow, meandering journey brought her to a stone guardian. Shadows thrown by
her candle made the avian face appear harsh and impassive. “Cockroach
clusters,” she whispered, half-certain she was speaking nonsense and the
gargoyle would refuse to move.
Instead, the eagle head seemed to nod as it took a step back, revealing the
stone steps it guarded. Minerva climbed. There was nothin else to be done,
really. She climbed seeking answers and reassurance, seeking peace so that she
could sleep.
Albus stepped out onto the balcony that led to his personal quarters wearing a
plain white dressing robe. His hair was loose as it fell down his back, his
beard braided so as not to tangle in his sleep. Without a word of greeting or
question, he stepped down to meet her in his office. His hands were warm as
they gently took hers. She looked down at them. They were knotted and slender,
but they still possessed a steady strength. This man had seen terrible things,
but he still clung to beliefs as bright and glorious as the sun. 
“What is bothering you, dear friend?” he finally asked.
Already most of her worries seemed to fade. “The boys, of course.”
“The bullying?” he asked softly.
“It is hard to catch the culprits in the act no matter how closely we watch.
The attacks are subtle and unrelenting. It is certainly not the work of only a
few students.” She looked up at him in entreaty. “Are you certain turning a
blind eye is the right decision? I hate that I had to give him detention for
tardiness.”
“We are teachers, Minerva.” Albus drew her over to the fireplace and conjured
soft chairs. “It is crucial for Draco learn to ask for help. Once he does, we
can cast wards on his person that will repel the simple jinxes and hexes that
plague him in the hallways. However, you know that wouldn’t be a true solution.
It would only drive the other students to more creative lengths to make him
miserable. The problem is the students’ perception of him. We must somehow
change their rejection into acceptance.”
“How?” she demanded desperately. She hated to see any child suffer but maybe
especially those two. Her soul ached with the knowledge of how much they had
already been hurt and the difficult trials that awaited him.
Albus gave her a bright smile. “I’ve been thinking on just that thing, Minerva.
I’ll give the boys a little more time, to either reach out for help or solve
their problem themselves, but if that doesn’t work, what we need is to create
an environment where Draco’s more virtuous and admirable qualities shine. In
short, he needs to be seen as the hero.”
Minerva couldn’t help smiling back even as her stomach fluttered with nerves.
What exactly was Albus planning?
…
Cold fog shrouded the ground, glowing faintly with moonlight. Twinning and
snaking around the ominous shapes of trees, it smothered all sound. Barely a
faint hissing of leaves could be heard. Chillingly empty, dangerous… 
Out of the darkness something white coming closer… At first Harry thought it
was a ghost and he gasped, scared… A horse made of pure light, standing on its
back legs, nose reaching skyward, front feet kicking… Beautiful until he
realized it was frothing at the mouth in terror, square blunt teeth bared, eyes
rolling… A shrill scream of pain shattered the eerie silence… Sending his heart
rocketing against his ribs. His whole body shook at the sound. He wanted to run
far, far away… 
Blood spilled and splashed, drenching the white of its coat… that was
horrifically fading to a dirty, corpse grey. The dying, terrified creature
fell, heavy. The thump was felt in Harry’s bones. It seemed to look right into
him as the light faded from its beautiful grey eyes…
Harry screamed! He fought the blankets, trying to sit up, to stand, to move. He
screamed again, tears drenching his face. Light spilled over him as his
curtains were pulled aside. Neville, wide-eyed and hair mussed, grabbed his
shoulder.
“Harry…” he called, voice shaking. “Harry?”
Harry turned and grabbed onto his arm desperately. His heart felt like it would
pound straight out of his chest. He could almost still feel the blood, slick
and terribly hot against his lips and cheeks, coating his chin. 
Neville pulled Harry against his side, calm now that he realized it was just a
nightmare. He stroked the trembling boy’s back, speaking softly, promising that
it was just a dream, everything was fine.
Slowly, Harry’s heart stopped trying to break out of his ribs and he could
breathe again. Wiping the tears from his face, he turned to the side, confused.
“Draco?”
The other side of the bed was empty.
Harry’s stomach seemed to leap into his throat. The nightmare vanished from his
mind as terrified urgency took its place. “Where’s Draco?” he demanded, staring
up at Neville with wide-eyes.
Neville frowned. “I don’t know. He wasn’t here when you woke me up.”
Harry scrambled from the bed. He didn’t bother with a robe or slippers. Wearing
only the long white t-shirt he slept in, he ran from the room. He checked the
bathroom first. The lights slowly flickered to life, triggered by his presence.
He checked every stall, but the room was empty. Harry ran back past Neville
standing frightened in their dorm room doorway. He ignored Neville’s call of
his name and practically flew down the stairs into the common room. 
The room was a mess of shadows. The fire burning low, casting a dull orange-red
light. Harry froze, breath caught in his throat. Standing almost dead center in
the room, back toward Harry, was Draco’s silhouette. 
Bile rose in the back of Harry’s throat. The white blond hair, the pale skin
and bright white shirt - the figure of the white horse in his dreams - splashed
with blood and dying - Gasping, struggling to breathe through a constricted
throat, Harry took careful steps forward. His fingers trembled as his arm
lifted, reaching. 
“Draco?” he whispered. 
Draco stood perfectly still. In the low light, it almost made Harry second-
guess himself. “Draco?” he called a little louder, frightened. His fingertips
brushed Draco’s shoulder. 
Draco’s head too-slowly turned, only his head. As if in slow motion, Harry saw
his mouth gaping open impossibly wide, eyes blank and unblinking, blood oozing
from his nose. 
Harry’s hand clenched around Draco’s shoulder in reaction, yanking the boy off
balance. “Draco!”
Draco stumbled and fell to his knees. His mouth shut as life animated his face,
his eyes blinking rapidly. Voice dry and hoarse, he looked up at Harry and said
almost in a daze, “What time’s it?”
Harry fell to his knees and flung his arms around Draco’s neck. He shuddered as
hot blood dripped onto his shoulder.
“Hey,” Draco rasped. He held Harry to him, frowning at the way the smaller boy
shook in his arms. “What’s wrong? Why are we in the common room?”
Harry haltingly told him about the dream, about Draco being missing, about
finding him standing down here. Draco listened, stroking his hair and rubbing
his back. His frown deepened. It was getting worse - these nighttime attacks of
his. It wasn’t every night, but it was often enough that Draco was beginning to
grow concerned. 
“I’m going to figure this out, Harry,” he promised in a warm whisper. His hand
gently fisted the boy’s hair, lifted his head. He looked into Harry’s eyes.-
Fear anxiety - flowed thick and heavy as syrup through the bond. “I’m going to
fix this.”
Harry’s shoulders relaxed. The tears that had yet to fall finally spilled down
pale cheeks - trust worry love - “Yes, Draco.”
…
Draco made a trip to the Infirmary before breakfast. Harry stood anxiously at
Draco side as Madam Pomfrey delivered the results of her exam. She could find
nothing out of the ordinary besides elevated stress levels and fatigue. Harry
opened his mouth to argue, to insist something was wrong, but Draco squeezed
his hand. 
“Either she’s not telling the truth and someone is making her lie or she really
can’t find anything wrong with me,” Draco explained as they made their way to
the kitchen. “Either way, there’s no point arguing. We’re going to have to
figure this out on our own.”
Harry’s jaw tightened as he gave a short nod - determination. “I’ll do my best,
Draco.”
Draco turned to smile at him, bringing Harry’s hand to his lips to gently kiss
his knuckles. “I know you will.”
Harry blushed a pretty pink, his head ducking.
…
Draco, Harry, Hermione, and Neville spent as much time as they possibly could
in the library. It served two purposes. One, they had a lot to figure out if
they were ever going to get on top of what was happening at Hogwarts. Two,
Draco was safe from bullying under Madam Pince’s watchful eyes. 
Their routine was to first finish their classwork as quickly as possible and
then return to their research projects. Harry was looking up spells that could
help protect Draco in the halls and keep their room safer at night while
Hermione and Neville were researching magical objects that might help Voldemort
come back. 
If they could figure out what it was that Dumbledore was protecting, they could
figure out a way to destroy it. Draco had told them that Dumbledore was waiting
for permission from the true owner to destroy the item, but Draco wasn’t so
inclined. If it would help Voldemort, then it had to be destroyed, permission
or no. 
Draco’s project was a bit more secretive. Only Harry knew that he was searching
for curses that would cause him to sleepwalk and have nosebleeds. So far he
hadn’t found anything that matched Harry’s disturbing descriptions. 
…
Draco was just stepping through the portrait hole into the Tower when his feet
jerked underneath him. The books in his arms went flying as he flailed in order
to keep his balance. His body jerked about in an awkward tumble of arms and
knees. His feet jumped and kicked madly, as if dancing some demented jig. The
common room was full of people. They all turned at the commotion, saw Draco
flailing, and burst into laughter.
“Finite incantatem,” Hermione cast firmly, brows lowered in concentration. 
Draco staggered as he regained control of his feet and practically fell against
the wall for balance. His hair hung limp, his face glistened with sweat. He hid
his expression, trying to swallow down the helpless fury that choked him. Hands
balled into fists, he just barely held onto the icy-cold magic that wanted to
spill free. 
Harry rushed past him and shoved Rahl, who was laughing so hard he was crying,
off the couch arm he sat on. “Draco’s done nothing wrong!” he screamed. His
eyes blazed behind his glasses, his face red with fury. “You think he’s some
traitor because he’s a Malfoy, but it’s like you’ve forgotten that he wasn’t
raised here! He was kidnapped and kept overseas until only a few years ago! If
anyone’s a traitor, it’s you! For bullying one of your own! Draco’s more of a
Gryffindor than you cowardly assholes who attack behind his back and laugh! You
got a problem with him, say it to our faces!” 
The room fell silent as Rahl slowly stood up. Broad-shouldered, a few inches
shy of six-feet, Rahl stared down at Harry. 
Harry didn’t back down. He stared up at the older teen with defiant rage in
every line of his body. 
“Better watch it, Harry,” Rahl warned, his pale blue eyes narrowed dangerously.
“Being the Boy-Who-Lived will only get you so far.”
Draco came off the wall and stood at Harry’s side. “No, you better watch it,”
he said softly. There was something about the way he spoke, the knowledge in
his eyes, that made Rahl bare his teeth and the kids around them lean away.
Then to Draco’s complete surprise, another voice spoke up.
“Leave Draco alone!” Hermione added her voice to theirs as she stepped forward
to stand with her friends. “We’re just First-years! What do you hope to
accomplish besides looking cruel and childish?”
“You’re just being bullies!” Neville cried defiantly. He was pale with fear,
but his voice was steady.
“There’s no way a First-year, no matter who he is got a troll into the castle,”
Ron stated. He crossed his arms and glared at everyone around them.
“I don’t appreciate my own House sabotaging my players,” Oliver said darkly
from his position by the fire. “Draco’s my reserve Seeker. I’m going to need
him fit to play if we’re going to win the Cup. Some of us are trying to get
noticed by the Professional Quidditch League, you know.”
There were voices of assent to this statement from the other Quidditch players,
most notably the Weasley twins. 
Suddenly the air was thick with tension as the room began to divide, groups
turning on each other with accusatory eyes. 
Draco felt his heart pound in his chest. He hadn’t expected such support. He
felt the atmosphere shift in his favor and grabbed it. He spoke low and
compelling, voice growing in volume as he continued. “I know my name comes with
baggage, but I am not my name. Maybe Malfoys are meant to be Slytherin, but I
turned that down! I chose to be here. You can trip me, break my things, poison
my food, but I’m not scared of you and I’m not going anywhere! My name is Draco
not Malfoy, and I am a Gryffindor! Twin to Harry Potter! That’s who I am.”
Fred and George shared a glance, identical grins spreading across their faces.
Slowly they began to clasp. Ron joined in and soon the whole of the Gryffindor
team was clapping loudly, but there were still plenty of faces that looked
uncertain or suspicious.
Draco gave them all a wry smile. “Come on, Harry. We still have some homework
to finish before bed.”
Harry glared fiercely up at Rahl. “You’re going to have to go through me to get
to Draco,” he promised. “What are you going to do? Push me down the stairs like
a Slytherin?”
There were unhappy murmurs at this, but Rahl looked unfazed, eyes cold as he
continued to meet the younger boy’s eyes.
Harry gave the room a dark look before turning and chasing after the blond.
…
Concerned, Professor Flitwick asked Harry to stay behind after class. Draco, of
course, waited at the door for the other boy. Flitwick watched with a frown as
Harry fidgeted before his desk, eyes lowered. When he spoke, it was with a hint
of nervousness.
“Yes, Professor?”
“I noticed your essays have declined lately,” he told the child gently. 
Green eyes looked up at him through a curtain of wavy bangs. They were ringed
underneath with dark circles. 
Flitwick made his voice even softer. “Are you getting enough sleep? Are you
well?”
“Yes, sir,” Harry answered. The boy offered a smile. “I promise to work
harder.”
It wasn’t that he wanted the child to work harder per say, he was just
concerned about the boy’s health. Earnestly, he offered, “If you need help,
child, my door is always open.”
At that the boy lifted his head fully for the first time during their
conversation and looked Flitwick dead in the eye. “I’ve been researching
defensive spells, Professor. I’ve found Protego, but it only shields you
against a single spell. Is there some other spell that could protect you?
Something more long-lasting?”
Flitwick ached for the boy, so young and haunted, so desperate to protect
himself from others. He’d thought the bullying had stopped, but the intensity
of Harry’s eyes told him that it hadn’t. Not completely. Glancing behind the
boy, he noticed Draco’s cheek did look slightly red and swollen. He must have
fallen again.
“There isn’t a spell that will have the effect you seek,” Flitwick explained,
returning his attention to Harry. “I would recommend warding an item of
clothing or a piece of  jewelry to repel hostile magic.”
Harry’s face lit up with simple joy. “Thank you, Professor! I’ll research it
right away!”
Flitwick didn’t have the heart to tell him that most wards were years beyond
his ability.
…
Bellatrix crept from the warded room. It was three in the morning. The witching
hour where dark and secretive things were at their strongest. Blood coated her
fingertips. Silent as a ghost, she slipped through the elegant marble halls.
She had no intention of escaping, so the wards remained quiescent. Pale, sickly
thin, black curls short and messy around her head, her dark eyes stared
unblinking as she followed the faint seductive tendril that flushed her skin
and made her back arch.
The soft creek of a door as it swung inward. A dark office - books lined the
walls, plush rugs, a wide window only slightly silvered with the tiny crescent
moon looming above. She was pulled forward, soft gasps escaping her lips as the
feeling of sweet, rich darkness tantalized her senses. Almost on it’s own, a
drawer opened. A black, velvet covered book sat inside. 
She moaned as her fingers caressed the leather surface and lifted it up high.
“My Lord,” she breathed reverently. Opening the book, she set it on the desk
and lifted the quill that sat ready at the edge. 
…
Draco yawned as he made his way up to the library with Harry. He didn’t know
how much longer he would be able to read old, musty books. It was so damn
frustrating having symptoms but no real clue what exactly he was looking for.
It was a wild goose chase that had no end.
“I’m going to use the bathroom,” he said. Maybe splashing water on his face
would help wake him up. “Go on without me.”
Harry gave him a smile and a nod, hurrying ahead. 
Draco smiled fondly as he watched Harry enter their sanctuary. Harry had been
studying wards for the last few days, ever since Flitwick pointed him in that
direction, and he felt like he was on the verge of figuring it out. 
Draco entered the bathroom and headed directly for the sinks. He turned the nob
so only cold water came out and cupped his hands. 
The lights went out. 
All at once, with no sound or warning, just instant and total darkness.
Draco’s eyes stared wide and blind. His heart beat hard and fast in his chest
as he gripped the cold porcelain edge of the sink. It was possible the room
wasn’t dark, but that he’d been hexed blind. With that in mind, he made sure to
control his expression. He would not show fear.
Smoothly, he released the sink and straightened. He turned to face the room.
Black… perfect black… He couldn’t see. Swallowing hard, he took a step forward.
Ping!Draco froze, stilling as the sound echoed. What was that? 
Shit. 
Forcing his shoulders to relax, he took another step. Nothing. Third step…
Ping!Draco froze again. This time the sound was much closer. He was breathing
faster now. Who was here with him? He wanted to snarl and growl. The constant
attacks had let up a bit since his speech in the common room. There were days
where nothing happened to him at all and he had a feeling his bullies were
about to make up for it now.
Draco braced himself and stood his ground. “What the fuck do you want?” he
demanded, voice low and controlled.
Nothing. No response. Just blackblackblack…
Draco took a step toward where he thought the door was and another. Clang!Draco
jumped, the noise was much louder now. It sounded like metal on metal. “If
you’re not going to do anything, I’ve got other places to be!” he yelled
defiantly. 
Clang!Determined to stop for nothing, he walked carefully forward. Clang!
Clang!He ignored the noise and kept moving forward. Silence. He bumped into a
tiled wall. Sweating, he slid his hands along the cold, tiled surface, looking
for the doorway.
A few steps forward and the wall became sticky and slowly grew warm under his
touch. “What the fuck?” he hissed, but he refused to take his hands off the
wall. Without it, he had no idea where to go. “I’m going to kill you when I get
my hands on you,” he muttered darkly. 
His hair stuck uncomfortably to his cheeks and forehead. God, why was it
getting so damn hot in here? And what the fuck was all over the fucking wall?
Bang!With a snarl, he tried to yank his hands back, but they were stuck fast.
It felt like the wall was melting, swallowing his fingers and creeping up his
wrists. Bang!Disgusting squelching sounds filled his ears. 
“Get it the fuck off me!” Draco yelled, pulling with all his might.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
He screamed…
…
Harry frowned at the library door. It had been ten minutes. Draco should have
been back by now. “I’m going to check on him.” He pushed up from the table and
Neville grabbed his wrist. He looked over to see the other boy staring back at
him pale and worried.
“I’ll go with you.”
Hermione didn’t even notice as they left. She was deeply buried in her book.
Together, they hurried from the library. The hallway outside was empty. Harry
frowned. A faint thud! could be heard from inside the bathroom.
“Draco?” he called. 
Thud!
Harry walked deeper in only to gasp and rush forward. 
Draco stood to the left of the sinks and was slamming his forehead against the
wall again and again. Red painted the tile, splattering wider with every
thud!of Draco’s head against the hard surface. 
Screaming Draco’s name, they pulled him away from the wall, the three of them
falling back, Draco in their laps. The blond went suddenly limp. His eyes
fluttering closed. Blood gushed from a cut at Draco’s hairline, coating his
forehead and dripping down his cheeks like tears.
Terrified, furious, Harry looked up at Neville and screamed, “Go get help!”, as
he tried to staunch the bleeding with his robe sleeve. Neville scrambled back,
his eyes staring in horror at the blood dripping down the wall. Then he turned,
feet scrambling on the slick floor, and ran.
As soon as he was gone, Harry bent close, folding over Draco’s head in his lap.
He placed his lips over the cut and searched deep inside. Draco was his
everything… Draco was hurt… The ache in his heart became a soul-deep need to
fix, to heal. Warm blood filled his mouth, coated his tongue, Harry swallowed,
shivering at the feeling of Draco’s blood filling him from the inside, and let
his magic pour down.
…
Severus crept silently through the darkened Infirmary. Draco lay in a nearby
bed unconscious. He’d had no wounds when he’d been admitted, but the blood in
the bathroom by the library told a different story. Harry sat in a chair pulled
up to the blond's bedside. He was folded in half with his upper body laying
over Draco’s chest and waist, as if trying to hold him there. He was sound
asleep, face pale with dark circles casting shadows under his eyes. 
Satisfied that the children were safe for now, Severus stalked back the way he
had come. He wasn’t surprised to find Dumbledore waiting for him just outside
the doors. “You cannot keep this from the Malfoys,” Severus stated, not
bothering to hide the satisfaction in his tone.
Dumbledore’s blue eyes were cold and calculating behind his half-moon glasses.
“Yes. The Malfoys will be informed of the bullying. Hopefully the boys will
convince them to stay as I believe they were close to fixing the problem.”
“Bullying?” Severus could not believe his ears. “This was not done by bullies,
Albus! Draco’s mind was attacked and he’s growing unstable. You read Longbottom
and Harry’s statements! Draco was braining himself!”
“And yet he arrived with no physical injury. The blood in the bathroom must
have been part of the prank to startle Draco’s friends.”
Severus stared at his old mentor, shock written on his face for a brief second
before his eyes narrowed, a look of fury boiling across his features. “Prank?”
Dumbledore reached out and gripped Severus’s shoulder with surprising strength.
“Listen to me, Severus. Draco’s mind is stronger than the average child’s. In
fact, these lapses may indeed be him breaking free of whatever was cast on
him.” He drew even closer, his expression suddenly threatening. “Do you really
believe a Mind Healer, no matter how skilled, would be able to help him? We
both know Draco would reject any foreign presence immediately. Especially in
these circumstances. They would in fact only hinder Draco further. I will hear
no more of your suspicions regarding Draco’s mind. Understood?” 
 
As Dumbledore released him, Severus realized he was breathing hard. He glared
at the Headmaster and shrugged his shoulders to get the ghostly feeling of the
Headmaster’s hand from his shoulder. 
Dumbledore gave him a gentle smile, suddenly old and wise once more. “This is a
battle Draco must wage on his own, Severus. Should the Malfoys hear your
suspicions, they would not be able to help him regardless and would pull him
out of Hogwarts. We both know why that is unacceptable.”
Severus sneered and spun on his heel, his robes flaring around his feet. “I
understand perfectly, Headmaster,” he answered, cold and stiff, before
disappearing down the hall, the shadows embracing his rigid form.
Dumbledore watched him go, suddenly aged beyond his years. “I doubt that,
Severus. I truly doubt that.”
Chapter end.
A/N: Question about pacing!! 
So I’m really, really torn between narrating this story on a mostly day-to-day
basis to show the build up of their everyday life and stress like I did with
the majority of Freedom Found in Chains versus a narration more like this
chapter where time passes more quickly with only significant moments being
expressed in detail… I would REALLY love the feedback on this.
***** Secrets of the Stone *****
The Secrets of the Stone
Draco watched Harry as they slowly ate their breakfast trays. Pomfrey would
release them after they finished eating as again she could find no residue of
magic or anything physically wrong with him. Honestly, Draco was more concerned
about his boy. 
- Confusion worry - filled their bond with static. Harry’s shoulders were
slumped forward. Exhaustion hung around his too skinny frame. Any glimpse of
Harry’s eyes, behind a shield of wavy bangs and glasses, revealed a dull green
ringed in dark circles. Draco couldn’t really remember the attacks, but Harry
wasn’t so lucky. 
Draco tried imagining their roles being switched - of finding Harry banging his
head against the wall hard enough to splatter the tile with blood - and his gut
curled with helpless fury. In fact, as bad as his boy looked, Draco was
actually surprised Harry wasn’t worse. He wasn’t clinging to Draco or
panicking. Something else was going on…
“Harry,” he said, low and demanding.
Harry looked up attentively before looking around the infirmary. They were
alone, but Harry still frowned and shook his head. Draco mirrored his frown.
Whatever Harry had to say couldn’t be said where they might be overheard.
“Draco! Harry!” Hermione appeared at the doorway and hurried over, a thick book
clutched to her chest. She’d been free of her cane for a few days and liked to
rush wherever she went now that she was able to. Neville trailed behind her,
red in the face and panting. “I’ve found it! I know I’ve found it.”
Draco reached eagerly for the book. “Let me see.”
She shook her head, stepping back. “I want to confirm it with Hagrid first.
Let’s go during lunch.”
Draco frowned. He didn’t want Harry missing lunch. Healing him in the bathroom
had taken a lot of energy without Draco’s magic bolstering him, but this was
equally important. Draco was convinced everything would get better once they
destroyed whatever it was that Dumbledore was protecting.
“Fine,” he said, giving in. Maybe Hagrid would have something for Harry to eat.
Hopefully something besides rock cakes.
…
Harry tried to focus. He really did, but their first class was their DADA
practical with the Slytherins. As usual, his scar burned as soon as he stepped
inside the classroom. A low throbbing headache beat behind his eyes. The
overwhelming smell of garlic didn’t help. Professor Quirrell had them line up,
one House facing the other, in the center with about five feet separating them.
All the tables and benches had been stacked precariously in the corner of a
room with magic. 
Harry squinted past his headache and saw that he was opposite Vince. He gave a
small, aborted wave as he met the other boy’s blank expression. Next to him,
Draco faced Pansy. She didn’t look coldly detached like Vince; she looked
venomous. A quick glance at Draco’s faced revealed the blond was calm and
unbothered. Harry wondered if that meant Pansy wasn’t really mad or if it meant
Draco didn’t care about her anymore. 
At the professor’s signal, they began firing the Kickback Jinx at each other.
It was the one spell that doxies were vulnerable to, a common Wizarding pest.
Harry felt Vince’s spell as a gentle shove against his shoulders and he took
one step backward. Returning to position, he fired the same jinx back. Vince
barely moved. 
Vince’s next jinx had him failing his arms a bit to keep his footing. Harry
couldn’t protect Draco like this. He was useless trash, a burden. Tears burning
his eyes, he took a firm step forward, remembered his determination to be of
use to Draco, and fired off the jinx.
Vince was shoved right off his feet. He slid backward, coming up against the
opposite wall with a soft thud. The room instantly became quiet, all eyes
turning to Harry. He tucked his chin, heart pounding. He wanted to duck his
head, to cower and grovel… I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you! … but his Mask
was firmly in place. 
They were in class, in public. Draco’s rules closed around him, a guiding light
in the chaotic darkness. They held him upright even as his heart pounded. Harry
stared across at his friend, watching with paralyzed fear as the bigger boy
pushed up into a sitting position. Vince’s blue eyes were wide as they stared
back at him.
Harry looked desperately into Draco’s warm, grey eyes. He felt the anxiety
clawing up his throat slowly subside as Draco held his gaze, unwavering. Harry
was peripherally aware of Quirrell walking toward him.
“P-P-Potter. Try a-a-and m-modul-late your p-power.”
Harry instinctively gripped his robes over his side. The pounding behind his
eyes suddenly felt like something stabbing him straight through his brain. The
professor walked past him without further comment, telling the class to
continue. Harry’s shoulders relaxed. 
Draco tilted his head toward the other side of the room. Harry obediently
turned his attention back to his partner to see Vince standing at the ready,
back in position. He looked none the worse for wear.
“Ready, Potter?” 
The words and tone of voice were cool and detached, but Vince’s eyes were full
of concern. Harry’s lips twitched up into a shaky smile before he lifted his
chin, holding onto his Mask with all his might…I will be useful to Draco! …
Sweat dampened his forehead and the back of his neck, but he managed to answer
with a mostly even, “Ready.”
…
Draco took Harry by the hand as the bell signaled the end of class. Slipping
into a shadowed corridor, Draco looked both ways before pulling Harry into  a
secret passage. Weeks of unrelenting attacks in the halls had made them both
adept at fading into the background. They knew all the unused hallways and
secret passages by heart. Harry’s headache slowly disappeared, smoothed away by
each sweep of Draco’s thumb across the back of his hand. 
“Don’t worry, Harry. They’re just playing their part,” Draco said softly as
they walked. The passage grew narrow and they both had to turn sideways for
several meters to slip through. 
Harry said nothing. Ever since the troll attack Draco seemed incapable of
understanding that it was Quirrell and not the class or the smell of garlic
that gave him the headaches. He stared down at their clasped hands and held
Draco’s a little tighter. More than ever Harry was certain that Quirrell had
done something to Draco. Harry was determined to make sure Quirrell never
touched Draco again.
They came out onto the first floor, which was mind boggling as they didn’t go
down any stairs and the Defense classroom was on the third floor. A nearby door
let them out of the castle in a courtyard. Overhead, the sky was a cloudy grey;
sunlight falling weakly down on them. The breath of winter bit at their skin.
“What couldn’t you tell me in the infirmary?” Draco asked, attention sharp on
Harry as they reached into their bags and pulled out black mittens before
tugging them on.
Harry instinctively looked around, but they were alone. They stood in the
shadow of the castle still a good bit away from where they met for Xylomancy.
He reached out and pulled Draco by the hand even closer to the castle wall
before undoing his robe. His soft gloves slid against his skin as he untucked
his shirt and pushed it and his sweater up to reveal his side. Harry shivered
as the cold air touched his warm stomach. 
Draco’s eyes narrowed. The silver dragon embedded under Harry’s skin looked…
dangerous. It’s head was lowered, sharp teeth glistening and bared. Green eyes
slitted, a look of deadly fury was etched on its face. Its scales seemed more
spiky than normal; it’s claws flexed. Its muscles were etched and taunt. The
tip of its outstretched tail flicked in agitation. As Draco watched, it arched
its head back before snapping it forward with terrifying speed. Instinctively,
Draco cupped his hand over the mark he'd placed on Harry’s skin and flicked his
eyes up to meet Harry’s.
“Whatever is happening to you,” Harry said softly, - faith love - filling the
bond with sparkling light, “your magic’s fighting it. You’re fighting it.” He
looked into Draco’s surprised eyes and gave a fierce smile of his own. “That
means you’re going to beat it.”
Suddenly breathless, throat tight with too much emotion, Draco pressed Harry
against the stone wall and kissed him deeply. His mittened hands sank into
Harry’s hair. His tongue lapped forward, penetrating Harry’s mouth with slow,
deep strokes. 
Harry opened to him easily - lovelovelove. Draco may be kissing Harry
breathless, but it was Draco who was overwhelmed. No one had ever believed in
him or loved him the way Harry did. That absolute faith in Draco’s ability and
choices healed unseen fractures in Draco’s broken soul, made him want to clutch
Harry to him and melt them into one.
Wet, slick lips parted, connected by a string of saliva. Draco panted against
his boy’s mouth. He wanted to mark and bend and consume, but class would start
soon and he didn’t want another detention for being tardy. Instead he grinned,
fierce and strong, as he took in Harry’s flushed cheeks and slightly askew
glasses. 
With gentle fingers, he set the black frames right and ruffled Harry’s hair.
“We’ll finish this later,” he promised, voice low.
Harry shivered, dazed, and obediently answered, “Yes, Draco.”
…
By the time class finished and they made their way to Hagrid’s hut, the sky was
an even darker grey as clouds beginning to gather. It wasn’t quite cold enough
to snow, but it was cold enough that if it rained it would feel like ice.
December was only a week away. They wore their warmest robes, thickest socks,
pants, shirts, and sweaters. Knitted red hats sat on Hermione and Neville’s
heads, Hermione’s hair puffing out around her neck as the hat forced it
downward, while Draco carefully wrapped a red and gold scarf around Harry’s
neck.
“Hagrid!” Draco called, his breath a cloud on the air. He could see the light
of a bright fire through the window. 
Loud, excited barking startled them into stepping back as Fang went nuts on the
other side of the door. They waited several long seconds, but the door didn’t
look to be opening any time soon. They couldn’t hear anything over Fang. The
four of them exchanged curious looks. 
“Maybe he’s working?” Neville suggested.
“Without Fang?” Draco countered, eyebrows lowered ominously. He wanted to know
what Hermione had found out. His patience was wearing thin.
“With such a big fire going?” Hermione frowned at the offending door. “Magic or
no, you shouldn’t leave such a thing unattended.”
“Hagrid!” Harry called and waved his hand above his head. He was looking in the
direction of the forest and the others turned to see the huge man stepping from
the trees. 
“Arry! Draco!” their friend boomed as soon as he was close enough. He was
smiling happily through his beard. “What are you doin’ ‘ere?”
Draco gave a charming smile and elbowed Hermione before she could launch right
into her suspicions. “We came for a visit. It’s kind of cold. Mind if we come
in?”
Hagrid actually hesitated, which made Draco grin triumphantly. He knew
something was up! He shifted his feet, subtly bumping Harry’s shoulder. On cue,
Harry shivered dramatically and blew on his mittened hands, eyes wide and
innocent as he looked up at the big man. Hagrid instantly caved and they were
ushered inside the blazingly hot cabin.
Hermione and Neville were introduced to the gentle giant of a man and were
directed to the rickety table. There weren’t enough seats, so Neville sat on a
crate while Hermione got a stool. Harry shared Draco’s chair, half in the
blond’s lap. Almost immediately they shed their gloves, hats, and robes. By the
time Hagrid got them tea and cake (thankfully from Hogwarts’ kitchen and not
made by Hagrid), they had shed their sweaters, too. 
Hagrid wasn’t known for being subtle. He had a simple, earnest mind, so he was
painfully obvious as he tried to hide something he had placed dangerously close
to the roaring flame in the fireplace. Predictably Hermione warned Hagrid about
fire-safety and asked what the lump was. It turned out to be a dragon egg
wrapped in flame repellant rags so it could be as close to the fire as possible
without actually burning.
“Hagrid!” Hermione cried, scandalized. “Dragons are triple-X marked creatures.
It’s illegal to bred or hatch them!”
“The Ministry just don’ understand, is all,” Hagrid argued, posture sheepish.
“Dragons are seriously misunderstood creatures. Sweet things, they are.”
Hermione took a visibly deep breath and tried to apply some reason to the
situation. “Where will it grow up? It needs to be with its kind, Hagrid. You
don’t want it to be unhappy and alone, do you?”
Hagrid fussed with his egg, expression stubborn.
“We actually came because Hermione had something to ask you,” Draco intervened.
He knew the man wouldn’t budge on the dragon issue. At least, not yet.
Hermione gave Draco an unimpressed look. She flipped her bushy hair over her
shoulder. “What can you tell me about the Sorcerer’s Stone?”
Hagrid’s head whipped around, his eyes wide. “How’d ya hear about tha’?”
Draco gave a slow, predatory smile that surprisingly didn’t look out of place
on his young face. “It’s just an innocent question. We’re learning about all
sorts of things at school.”
Hagrid shifted nervously as he stood, the forbidden egg forgotten momentarily.
“That’s between Nicolas Flamel and Headmaster Dumbledore. You shouldn’ go
lookin’ into things above your keen.”
Hermione opened her book and pointed to a place on the page. “It says that it
grants immortality as well as turning any metal to pure gold.”
Draco looked at the girl intently before shifting his laser gaze to Hagrid.
Immortality? His heart thundered in his chest and he instinctively held Harry
tighter. The Dark Lord was after something that could grant him immorality?
“Things get exaggerated,” Hagrid said with a reassuring smile. “Don’t go
believin’ everythin’ ya read.”
“How so?” Hermione demanded as if personally offended on her book’s behalf.
“Flamel is nearing seven hundred years old! He’s still alive, so it must be
true!”
Hagrid shook his head. “There’s no such thing as immortal life, ‘Ermione.
Headmaster Dumbledore explained it t’me. Said Flamel’s just slowin’ things
down, drawin’ things out.”
“Still…” Hermione’s expression was a picture of doubt. 
“Now, don’ worry about anythin’. Headmaster Dumbledore’s a great wizard. He’ll
keep the stone safe. Even gave him Fluffy to help guard it. No one’s gettin’ by
my Fluffy.”
“Fluffy?” Draco vividly remembered terrifying barks filling the closed off
third-floor corridor. “What is Fluffy exactly?”
Hagrid blinked at him. “I shouldn’a said that.”
“Come on, Hagrid,” Harry wheedled. He leaned forward and offered the big man a
sweet smile, his green eyes bright behind his glasses. “If we know something
strong is protecting the stone, we won’t worry about it as much.” 
Hagrid considered that and eventually tipped his head in a nod. “Fluffy is a
cerberus. Raised ‘em myself, I did. He’s a good, loyal pup. He’ll take a piece
outta anyone tryin’ to break in. So you don’ gotta worry about nothin’.”
Neville and Harry stared wide-eyed at this while Hermione and Draco shared a
shocked look behind their backs. A cerberus?! In the school? It sounded crazy,
but Draco had to admit it was a good protection. Well, at first glance anyway.
“Is a cerberus resistant against magic? What’s to stop someone from just
killing it?” Draco asked with a frown.
Hagrid sat straighter from his kneeling position next to the egg and fire. “The
kind’a magic it takes to kill Fluffy would send up all sorts of alarms.”
“And there’s no way around Fluffy without killing him?” Draco persisted. 
“Well…” Hagrid twirled a lock of his beard almost nervously. “I might’a put ‘em
to sleep as a pup with a lullaby, so now whenever he ‘ears some music, he goes
right to sleep. But no one could possibly know that!” Seeing the troubled looks
on the kids’ faces, Hagrid hurried to continue. “An’ even if they figured it
out, Fluffy’s not the only protection! Headmaster Dumbledore asked each Head of
House to come up with a defense, plus Headmaster Dumbledore put some kind’a
protection up himself! So I don’ want ya thinkin’ on this one more minute! The
stone’s safe. No one’s gonna use it for bad purposes. Not on our watch.”
Of course this just opened up a hundred more questions, but the big bell in the
tower rang a low note, signaling the end of lunch. If they were going to make
it to Transfiguration, they were going to have to hurry.
Hagrid seemed relieved to see them go, to be honest, as they donned their
winter clothes and said hasty goodbyes. As they jogged across the grounds,
Draco’s mind raced, trying to guess the protections Sprout, Flitwick, and
McGonagall would have created. It made him feel deeply sick to think Snape had
created a barrier. Did that mean Snape knew about the other protections
already? 
Before Draco could panic, he had to remind himself that if Snape could get to
the stone that easily, he would have already. Fluffy had seemed to have stopped
Snape cold on Halloween night. That meant that while Dumbledore had asked each
Head of House plus Hagrid for a defense, he likely hadn’t shared what those
defenses were. In any case, Flitwick was a crafty genius and there was no love
lost between Snape and McGonagall; Draco would just have to hope that at least
those two would be able to at least slow Snape down.
Distracted by his thoughts, Draco hadn’t been paying as close attention to the
hallway. They were just turning onto the Transfiguration corridor and passed a
group of six Gryffindor students. Draco flinched, seeing the pointing wand from
the corner of his eye. Harry moved as if to shield him with his body, but
Draco’s hand clamped down, keeping Harry out of the line of fire. 
His skin burst into a deep, pervading ache, growing tight. Draco staggered as
he felt something wet slide down his cheek, forehead, and chin. The group of
kids weren’t much older than them and they burst into laughter. Draco glared,
flushing in angry embarrassment.
“Flipendo!” 
The call of the Knockback Jinx was said with such fury, it shoved four of the
center kids hard enough for their heads to whip forward and then slam back when
their bodies collided with the wall. The laughter disappeared to be replaced by
cries of shock and pain. Draco stared at Harry, who stood with his wand out and
extended, expression fierce, and felt a wave of smug satisfaction.
“What is going on here?”
They all turned to see that McGonagall had arrived. Her pinched features, tight
bun, and silver glasses seemed more severe than normal as she stood tall, arms
crossed over her small chest. 
“Potter attacked us!” one of the boys cried, pointing a shaking finger at
Harry.
McGonagall’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “It is quite clear, Mr. McLaggen, that
you were dueling in this hallway and Mr. Potter got the best of you. Do not
imply you were attacked without reason in a cowardly attempt to escape
punishment. You are a Gryffindor. I expect some show of bravery… Even if it
must be faked.”
The boy looked close to tears; McGonagall’s voice and words cut sharply.
“You may have forgotten, but dueling in the corridors is forbidden,Mr.
McLaggan. You and your friends will serve a week of detentions for forgetting
this simple rule. Now get out of my sight immediately.”
The four boys who hit the wall got shakily to their feet, likely suffering
massive headaches. Their two friends helped them and soon they were gone and
the corridor was empty. The bell in the tower rang, but McGonagall didn’t seem
to be concerned by being tardy.
“I’m afraid that jinx can’t be removed by a spell, Mr. Malfoy,” she said in a
matter-of-fact way, the anger lifting from her voice. “You will have to go to
Madam Pomfrey for a potion.”
Draco tentatively touched his face and felt extremely sore bumps covering the
surface of his skin. Just touching them made more liquid seep out. It had a
gritty, oily feeling. It was disgusting and his whole face hurt, but it wasn’t
anything he couldn’t handle. “I’ll go after class,” he decided. They had Flying
next and it wasn’t like he needed to learn about that. He got enough
instruction when he attended Quidditch practice.
McGonagall inclined her head and turned on her heel.
“Looks like they used the Pimple Jinx,” Hermione informed him, wincing at the
red, swollen, and weeping sores all over Draco’s face. One had made his eye
swell half-shut. 
Draco didn’t much care what spell they had used, only that in a few hours the
effects would be gone. They took their seats in class, Draco earning whispers
and a few snickers at his disfigured face, which he ignored. 
“You did good, Harry,” he whispered as they took out their textbooks and
notebooks. 
- guilt protective - “I should have been faster,” he confessed, staring into
Draco’s eyes sadly.
Draco gave him a smile, making more things on his face pop and ooze painfully.
“This is nothing,” he assured the boy. “It looks worse than it is. You did
great, Harry. They won’t mess with me again for a while.”
Harry nodded, but Draco could tell he still wasn’t happy with the way it had
played out. “I think I found a ward that is simple enough that I can cast it
and it will still protect you. I found it yesterday before…” Harry trailed off.
Finding Draco in the bathroom still haunted him.
Draco felt cold, knowing exactly what Harry couldn’t say. He couldn’t remember
what happened in that bathroom, so he had no idea who had cursed him. It hadn’t
been a simple Pimple Jinx, that was for sure. “Show me later tonight,” he
whispered and turned his attention to McGonagall as she started class.
…
Harry went with Draco to see Madam Pomfrey. Hermione offered to join them, but
Draco insisted she go to Flying class. The girl hated to fly, but it was a
basic skill that could come in handy later. Harry fretted over the stains the
boils and pimples had made on Draco’s clothes. He really hoped the elves could
get it out. That sweater was Draco’s favorite!
The potion Madam Pomfrey gave Draco worked. Within twenty minutes the swelling
went down, the ooze dried up, and Draco was looking normal. They had the dorms
to themselves and a few hours before dinner, so Harry started right away on
warding Draco’s clothes as Draco went to take a shower.
Harry decided to start on Draco’s school robes first since he wore those most
often. Laying the black robes out on the floor, Harry sat cross-legged and
pointed his wand sharply down. Latin and Greek spilled from his lips. The book
he had found described the spell phonically, so he was pretty confident he
would get it right. Especially with the tutoring he had been provided by
Narcissa. 
His fingers grew warm, as if he dipped them in warm honey. As he chanted,
golden threads appeared in the shape of the warding: squiggles and loops,
blocks and runes. Protect Draco… Some corner of Harry’s mind remembered images
of Draco falling, skin scrapped and bleeding, feet jerking and kicking, hitting
his head against the floor or door frames, bruises blooming on soft pale skin,
food turned rotten in his mouth, exploding toilets and Draco covered in filth,
mean laughter, rejection…
His goal burned bright at the center of his mind… Protect Draco…  and slowly
the burning sensation rose higher, covering his hand, then wrist, then forearm.
The golden threads covered the inside of the robe from shoulders to mid-back.
The hot honey sensation reached his biceps when Draco touched him on the top of
his head.
Harry gasped, his arm falling slack. His hair hung heavy and damp. Sweat soaked
his face and shirt. He looked up at Draco, a plea on his lips… Let me finish! …
but Draco shook his head firmly.
“It’s time for dinner. You need a break, Harry,” he said and there was no room
for argument in that tone.
Harry looked down at his work. The golden threads seemed to shimmer with magic.
It looked the way the book described, so he must be doing it right. Sighing
regretfully, he stood. The room dipped and swayed, and he would have fallen
accept for Draco grabbing his arm. 
“You will eat everything I put on your plate,” Draco told him. 
Harry nodded obediently and followed Draco down to the kitchen, resigned to
feeling overstuffed. They still couldn’t eat in the Great Hall without their
food being cursed to taste disgusting. His mind was far away, still back on the
warding. Draco had three school robes, plus half-a-dozen sweaters, double that
in t-shirts and button-downs, three slacks, and five jeans. And that wasn’t
even counting his dress clothes. It would take Harry weeks to ward them all,
but he was determined.
Draco eyed his boy carefully. He noticed the color back in Harry’s face, the
brightness of his eyes. The food had done wonders, but he knew Harry and could
see how close he was to exhaustion. He also knew Harry wouldn’t rest unless he
felt he had accomplished something. “You may finish the robe, but you won’t
ward anything else tonight,” he ordered as they returned to the dorms. 
Harry nodded - determined love protective. He understood Draco was just taking
care of him, but one day he’d be strong enough that he wouldn’t have to stop
after one robe.
Hermione and Neville had beat them back to the dorm room. Fortunately girls
were able to come up to the boys’ side without problems, but only until curfew.
After that, Hermione would get itchy and it would only get worse until she
left. 
“Harry, this is amazing!” Hermione praised. She was standing over the half-
warded robe admiring the golden ward.
Harry blushed and ducked his head. He didn’t deserve it. It had taken him hours
to do so little, but he knew what he was supposed to say. “Thank you.”
“What do you think about the defenses around the stone? Any ideas on how we can
discover what they are?” Draco asked, purposefully drawing Hermione’s attention
away from Harry. He knew the boy would be itching to start warding right away. 
Draco sat at the desk they had brought up to their room with schoolwork laid
out around him. He’d already finished their Transfiguration essay before dinner
while Harry had worked on warding the robe. His boy was already cross-legged,
his head bowed as he lifted his wand over the robe. His other hand raised over
the material as if he were a conductor of a symphony. 
“A few,” Hermione answered, pushing her bushy hair out of her face. She came to
sit on the unused middle bed and faced Draco at the desk. Neville joined her.
“They can’t be too deadly. They all have to have an out because the Headmaster
will need to be able to check on the stone sometimes and such. He’ll need to be
able to get to it to remove it when Mr. Flamel aggress to it it being
destroyed.”
Draco grinned, fierce. “So we’ll be able to get around the protections, too.”
“If we can, so can Snape,” Hermione cautioned. 
Draco scowled. He glanced at Harry, checking on him. It’d only been a few
minutes, but already his skin glistened with sweat. “True,” he muttered darkly.
“So there’s a way around the defenses, but only if you know the weakness, like
Fluffy’s reaction to music,” Hermione continued. “Otherwise they will seem
impossible to beat.”
“We’ll need the weaknesses,” Neville concluded. “But how are we going to get
them?”
“We’ll split up,” Draco decided. “Neville, you’ll need to somehow get info from
Sprout. Make sure she doesn’t suspect you or anything.”
Neville looked horrified to be given such a big job.
“Hermione, do you want to tackle trying to McGonagall or Flitwick?”
“Flitwick,” Hermione answered confidently. “Sometimes being a girl can help get
information from males.”
Draco nodded. “Harry and I will try to get something out of McGonagall and
Snape, then.”
Plans in place, Hermione insisted they get homework done. They had essays and
research and quizzes to study for. Not to mention in less than a month they’d
have their first semester exams. 
Harry sweated and chanted for over an hour, his arm slowly going warm again,
this time to the shoulder, before he gasped, the ward completing with a snap of
magic. Hermione and Neville crowded around him, touching the robe he held up
with curious fingers. 
“You can’t feel it,” Neville said in surprise. 
“You can feel a bit of a tingle,” Hermione corrected. It didn’t feel like
raised thread against her fingers, but there was a small spark of energy at her
fingertips. She gave Harry a smile. “Good job, Harry.”
Draco wrapped an arm around Harry’s waist and gave him a hug. “Let me try it.”
Harry watched, holding his breath, as Draco slid the robe on and asked Hermione
to cast a simple curse at him. The Jelly-Leg Jinx bounced off harmlessly.
Neville cheered while Draco caught Harry up in a proper hug, kissing his cheek.
-proud happy love- 
Chapter end.
A/N:Sorry for the long gaps between updates. I’m still struggling with pacing
as well as just getting it written. I’m still not happy with it and the chapter
is shorter than usual, but I have to keep pushing on. I don’t want to lose the
story completely or drop it. 
Thank you SO SO SO much for the helpful feedback and tips. You have no idea how
much it helps! I know some of you have felt the lack of the recent chapters as
much as I do. Bear with me. I feel like the end of this writer’s block is
around the corner. I can feel the inspiration just beneath the surface!
***** Breakdown *****
A/N: WARNING : Dark chapter ahead and a BDSM scene.
Huge shoutout to Babyvfan who’s encouragement/reassurance made this chapter
possible.
                                   Breakdown
The night was dark and cold. Silent… not a rustle of a leaf or crunch of soil.
Yet he was gliding forward. The edges of the trees high above his head and the
uneven forest ground glowed briefly silver as the half-moon peeked out from the
clouds. He felt calm, relaxed… peaceful until a soft flicker of something white
and pure cut through the darkness.
A sudden feeling of absolute certainty stole over him. Something bad was going
to happen. His breath hitched, soft little gasps that he couldn’t hear but
could feel. Anxious tears burned his eyes. He didn’t want to go forward. He
strained with everything he had, but it didn’t matter.
Please… no…
There and gone again, quick little teasing darts. Until he was close enough to
recognize silk soft hair, slender legs, a long sloping back… Chilled to the
bone and terrified, he tried to scream out a warning.
Run! Get away!
The chase was about to reach its terrible end. His heart pounded in his chest.
He was gasping, screaming, but there was still no sound! Why couldn’t he
stop?!He was close enough now to see the unicorn fully… to see beautiful silver
eyes wide in fear and anger… and suddenly sound ripped across the silence.
A scream but not his own. The stallion bellowed its challenge, head whipped
back, hooves lashing at his face. The pearl horn stabbed forward… Harry tried
to fling himself onto the deadly tip just to stop what was coming.
Please! Please don’t make me!
His hands brutally caught the creature by the throat, twisting and flinging it
to the ground as if it weighed nothing. Its cry of pain was terrible, making
him cringe and shudder, even as he dove forward.
His teeth closed on that soft skin… Could feel the warm, soft fur against his
lips and tongue, felt the resistance of skin and muscle giving way against his
teeth. His stomach heaved in horror and disgust as he chewed through the
creature’s flesh.
Oh god! Nooooo!
Ripping muscle, thick blood filled his mouth with a delicious, syrupy warmth
that nonetheless made him scream. He swallowed mouthful after mouthful; it slid
down his throat and hit his stomach, filling it to overflowing…
He wanted to crawl out of skin to get away! It was inside his body… The
creature’s shrieks of agony pierced his ears, made him shrivel up even as he
pressed closer, ripping off raw meat and eating…
Harry sat up with a choked scream - HORROR grief terror GUILT. Arms held him
close, Draco’s voice in his ear soothing him. Harry twisted away and flung
himself at the edge of the bed. His whole body arched forward as he violently
threw up.
He was sobbing, snot and tears joining the mess on the floor. He was on his
knees, hanging onto the edge of the mattress with a death grip. Draco held his
hair off his forehead, the other hand gripping his shoulder to make sure he
didn’t topple into the puddle of sick. Bile and vomit hung from his lips.
“I ate him!”It would have been a shriek of horror, but his voice was hoarse and
small. “Drank his b-blood and ate him!”
Draco pulled Harry up and back so that he sat on the bed between his legs. He
kept one hand on his boy’s clammy forehead, holding the thick black hair back
and away from his face. The other arm he wrapped tight around Harry’s chest to
keep him in place against his chest and make him feel secure. Ignoring the
fluids that dripped from Harry’s mouth and chin onto his arm, he used his other
hand pull Harry’s head back to see his scar. Tension fell from Draco’s
shoulders as soon as he saw that the lightning scar was no longer blood red and
threatening to burst. It was fading slowly to an innocent white once more.
Harry broke down into wordless sobs. Draco held him tightly, humming. It took
several minutes before Harry was calm enough for Draco to turn Harry in his
arms, so the boy was sideways in his lap, cradled to his chest as if he were a
baby.
“Killed him…” Harry whispered brokenly, exhaustion and despair thick in his
voice. “In the woods… killed him and drank his b-blood…”
Draco stared over Harry’s head, expression grim, but his voice was soft and
gentle when he spoke. “It wasn’t you, Harry. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Harry whimpered - denial GUILT shame. He knew better than to pull away, but he
wanted to. Draco’s forgiveness felt like acid against his raw nerves. He didn’t
deserve it. He was a filthy, disgusting demon…
Draco took a deep breath and looked across the room at a wide-eyed Neville. The
boy’s hair was mussed from sleep, but he was wide-awake. He was usually a hard
sleeper, but Harry’s distressed whimpers and terrified cries could have pulled
the dead from sleep.
“Neville,” Draco said calmly, voice low. His hair had fallen from behind his
ears, the white-blond strands framing his face and falling just past his jaw.
“I want you to bunk with Ron for the rest of the night. He won’t mind if you
tell him Harry had a night terror and we needed some space.”
Neville balked. He leaned back, his hands twisting the comforter. “B-but…”
“Neville,” Draco said again, a little more firmly. He stared dead into the
other boy’s eyes. “Harry really needs me right now and you need your rest. Go
sleep with Ron, okay?”
Neville flushed red. He looked really nervous about it, but he obediently
crawled out of bed. He kept his head ducked as he pulled on a dressing robe and
pushed his feet into his slippers.
“Thank you,” Draco whispered, grey eyes bright with sincerity.
Neville’s shoulders straightened and he gave Draco a nod before slipping out of
the room.
Harry lay limp in Draco’s arms, eyes staring blindly ahead. He probably didn’t
even notice Draco’s conversation with Neville; the bond was a churning storm of
dark emotions. Harry’s frame trembled, tears dripping down his messy face.
Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He found the core of his being,
his love for Harry and the absolute certainty that Harry belonged to him, and
knew what he had to do. He gently pushed Harry up into a sitting position. Dull
green eyes blinked as awareness slowly bled into them. Draco gave Harry a soft
smile, but he knew his eyes had gone silver by the way Harry shivered.
“On your knees.”
The command was given in a low, hard voice that sent a bolt of electricity
right down Harry’s spine. He ducked his head and dropped his eyes submissively
as he shifted to kneel on the bed, butt resting on his heels… - HATE guilt
despair -
Draco slipped off the edge of the bed and slowly pulled all the curtains wide
open. He wanted as much light as possible. He wanted to see every inch of that
skin. “Shirt off.”
Harry pulled his sleep shirt over his head and was left naked. With the
curtains open, the chill from the stone walls and floor made goosebumps rise
along his skin. He shivered, his arms hanging limp at his sides, his chin
lowered. - GUILT grief loathing - clawed at his sanity.
Draco left him there as he went to their armoire and dug out a box at the
bottom. In it, he kept the rope that he’d had Dobby get for him nearly a year
ago. Being bound and tied, made helpless and at Draco’s complete control,
sometimes that was the only thing that would let Harry find his center again
and Draco had been sick of using scarves and belts.
- Trust need - flashed like lightning through the dark muck of Harry’s emotions
as soon as he caught sight of the rope. It was made out of a dark green nylon.
Harry had chosen the color for Draco’s magic, the color of the deep wood and,
for Harry, safety. It matched the eyes of the dragon inked into his skin and
was several shades darker than his own lighter green eyes. The rope wasn’t
soft, but it wouldn’t tear Harry’s skin to shreds either.
“Up.” Draco smacked Harry’s thigh and the boy rose up on his knees and off his
butt. Draco climbed onto the bed so that he was standing behind Harry and
ordered in a cold voice. “Arms up.”
Harry obeyed, lifting his arms above his head. Draco caught those thin wrists
in his hands and began to wrap the rope around them. He moved with deliberate
slowness, making sure Harry felt every coil around his skin, the tightness, the
inescapability of it, and then he firmly bent Harry’s elbows and pulled the
wrists down so that they rested behind his neck.
Draco tugged the end of the rope, making sure the stretch could be felt but
wasn’t painful. “Ankles together,” he growled in Harry’s ear.
Weeping, Harry carefully shifted his ankles together, rocking side to side to
move his knees inward to make it happen. The ghostly echo of the unicorn’s
blood still burned in his belly, the feeling of chewing the raw meat wouldn’t
leave his mouth! He was disgusting! Filthy! Draco must see it, too. The thought
sent a mother spike of - anguish - and - despair - through him, but it also
meant relief. Draco saw. He would make it right. Even if it meant destroying
Harry completely, he would make it right.
Draco ignored Harry’s whimpering sobs as he made several tight loops around the
boy’s ankles, pulling the rope tight. Darkness thrashed and flailed through the
bond, but Draco didn’t let it effect him. He remained cold and detached inside
of himself as he checked the pull of the rope. His teeth flashed in a fierce
grin. He would win Harry back from the darkness.
With slow, deliberate steps, he walked on the bed around the bound, kneeling
boy to stand in front of Harry. Harry struggled to stay upright and not pitch
over onto his side as the bed dipped next to him with every step Draco took.
Draco reached forward and gently ran his fingertips of his left hand down the
boy’s chest and over his firm stomach, lightly muscled from hours of Quidditch
practice. His nails stopped just above the boy’s dick. Harry shivered,
goosebumps appearing on his bare, cold skin. What Draco had planned would hurt
like a bitch. Maybe the cold would buffer that a bit.
The dark green cord connected Harry’s wrists tightly to his ankles. It made the
boy’s back have a slight curve backward, his chest slightly thrust out. His
slender arms were pulled up, the elbows bent, exposing his torso and stomach in
offering. Harry’s thighs had only a small gap between them with his legs
position this way, framing his small, soft cock. Face glistening with tears,
head bowed slightly forward, black hair hanging down over his eyes and the
bridge of his nose, Harry was a gorgeous picture of vulnerability, like an
offering to the gods.
Harry couldn’t see Draco’s face, his bound wrists pushing his head slightly
forward. Could only see Draco’s perfect feet, slender yet strong legs, and the
white sleep-shirt that fell to mid-thigh. Suddenly Draco crouched on the balls
of his feet on the bed in front of him, arms propped up on his thighs, his
shirt falling between his legs, keeping him covered. His eyes were blazing
silver as his lips crooked in a cocky smile that screamed dominance.
Draco ran his hand through Harry’s hair, firmly fisting the black locks at the
back of the boy’s head to make Harry lift his face up against the press of his
wrists. Harry’s cheeks were wet with tears and smears of snot. His eyes were
red-rimmed and slightly puffy, unhidden by the glasses that rested on the
nightstand. His chin was splattered with puke. His thin body exposed and
shivering, wearing only the green rope binding his limbs and the black collar.
The silver-white dragon tattooed on his side crouched above Harry’s right
hipbone. It was perfectly still in a predator’s crouch; its dark green eyes
unblinking and watchful.
Expression intent, watching Harry with a nearly obsessive glint, Draco ran his
fingertips over Harry’s slightly parted lips and down his throat. He tucked his
fingers into the top of the collar. Harry’s weeping grew raspy as Draco’s
fingers pressed against his throat.
“This won’t be quick, Harry,” he said softly. “It’s going to hurt. A lot. But
that’s what you need, isn’t it?”
- relief GUILT need self-hate - “… yes, Draco…” Harry wheezed, fat tears
rolling down raw cheeks. “…please… I’m evil…”
Draco leaned forward to press his forehead to his boy’s. He stared into Harry’s
eyes, blond hair falling to curtain their faces, a white cocoon. “Do you trust
me, Harry?” he asked almost gently.
Crying, Harry answered immediately with a choked, “Yes.”
“Then trust me.” Draco straightened. He reached over and picked up Harry’s
discarded shirt next to them and began to wipe the boy’s face and chest. “I’m
going to make you clean again.”
Harry shuddered, his eyes falling closed, torn between trusting absolutely in
Draco and the complete inability to believe he could ever be clean.
Draco pulled the dirtied shirt away, its job done, and dropped it over the
small puddle of vomit next to the bed. “Dobby!”
A long second passed before there was a soft pop. “Yes, Master Draco?”
“Clean this mess. Lock the door and put up a sound ward, too, please, and go,”
Draco ordered without looking. His attention was fully on his boy. Caressing
Harry’s damp cheeks, he said, “Tell me, Harry. Let me hear it. What did you do
wrong?”
With a whimper, Harry’s pretty lips began to move. “I killed it!” he sobbed.
“Drank its blood and a-ate it… Feel it in me! …” The rope creaked as he
unconsciously pulled against it. “And I left you… Left you alone and you… There
was so much blood…” A keen of pure despair rose from Harry’s tight throat. “My
fault! All my fault!… And I’m getting bad grades… It’s not good enough! I’m not
good enough! … I’m weak!Can’t ward all of your things right away! You’ll be
hurt again ‘cause of me…” His eyes went unfocused as he fell into the darkness
of his soul and the truth that lived there. “… bad, disgusting, EVIL, demon
FREAK…”
The words were said with utter hatred and a black outline darkened around
Harry’s form. Draco had heard enough. He reached forward, still crouched on the
balls of his feet, and wrapped his hands around Harry’s throat.
Harry’s lips soundlessly shaped the slurs that he called himself deep inside
his heart, even as his voice was stolen by suffocation. His shoulders tensed as
he instinctively pulled on his arms and was unable to move them. The feeling of
being tied made the blackness seep out of his vision.
He blinked back into awareness, felt Draco’s strong, slender fingers almost
brutally tight around his throat. He looked up into silver eyes that cut into
him with crystal clarity. Slowly, he relaxed into Draco’s hold, even as his
lungs painfully spasmed and his face went tight and hot.
Draco released him. Harry gasped and heaved, trembling and dizzy. Dark spots
danced in his vision, but he held his position on his knees, spine straight
with a slight bend backward, wrists bound tightly to his ankles behind him. He
didn’t fall. Chin dropped low, wild hair curtaining his face, he fought to
catch his breath and waited. Draco was here; Draco had him.
Draco stood and jumped off the bed. It was cold. Even he was shivering now. He
went to the armoire and pulled out his thickest sweater, a pair of jeans and
some warm socks. By the time he was done dressing, Harry was breathing mostly
evenly again, but he was still trapped in an endless loop of - guilt shame
self-hate fear.
Draco climbed back onto the bed and crawled to Harry on all fours. His
movements were smooth and predatory. Harry watched him with wide eyes that were
full of a desperate need to be saved. Draco lifted up onto his knees only
inches away from his boy and ran his fingers down Harry’s chest. The boy’s skin
was cold to the touch, but Harry’s teeth hadn’t begun to chatter yet. Perfect.
“Where did you eat the unicorn?” he asked curiously. Harry’s nipples were
pebbled nubs from the cold and Draco pinched them, smirking as Harry’s stomach
muscles jumped.
Harry’s face twisted in mental anguish as he remembered. “The neck…” he sobbed.
“I tore out its neck…”
Draco hummed in response. He caught Harry’s chin and forced it up so that Harry
was looking into his eyes. “Ready?” he asked solemnly.
Harry’s breath escaped him on a shaky sob. “Yes, Draco.”
Draco slid closer, fisted Harry’s hair, and titled his boy’s head to the side.
His sweater brushed Harry’s skin as he put his mouth against his throat. The
boy was gasping… - NEED guilt submission self-hate - … heart thundering in his
chest. Draco opened his mouth, lips ghosting over Harry’s chilled skin. He
pressed his teeth to the boy’s flesh and, without warning, bit down brutally.
Harry choked back a scream as pain tore through his senses. He jerked away
instinctively, but Draco held him in place.
The bite had left deep indentations, two perfect crescents that were already
bruising. Two drops of blood welled up where Draco’s canines had cut through.
Draco didn’t stop there. He dropped his mouth to the slope of Harry’s neck and
shoulder. He bit down, holding Harry’s flesh in his teeth for a long minute
before releasing him. Harry was truly shaking now, gasping in short breaths as
the hot pain streaked across his body from his neck and shoulder and slammed
into his mind.
Smiling a predator’s smile, eyes silver with intent, Draco slid his lips up the
soft underside of Harry’s arm. It was on perfect display with his arms up and
his wrists tied behind his head. Draco gripped that soft flesh with his back
teeth. A sharp, pained cry escaped Harry as Draco worried at it in a chewing
motion. Draco moved only a few inches over to bite down again. Harry began to
sob loudly.
“Sorry… Sorry, Draco! … Sorry!” Harry pleaded, head rocking back and forth,
sweat dampening his brow, his black bangs sticking to his skin.
Draco turned his mouth to the curve of Harry’s jaw and cheek and bit him.
Harry whimpered, tears and snot drenching his face once more. Draco took the
boy’s lower lip in his molars and clamped down, worrying it, chewing. The thin
skin tore. The small cut bled ruby red down Harry’s pale, cold skin. It dripped
off his chin and slid down his chest. Draco followed that trail, leaving
bruising bites and the occasional cut from his canines.
He used this hand to grab a handful of Harry’s chest to have more to bite on.
The pebbled nipple was caught safe in his mouth, and the searing hot heat of
the side of Draco’s tongue rubbed the hard nub even as his teeth pinched and
bruised the muscle around it. Harry screamed! Draco held the bite, pain eating
up all the hate and guilt and shame through the bond.
He gripped Harry’s other breast, raising the muscle and skin, and clamped his
teeth down. Again his tongue rubbing almost brutally against the cold nipple.
Harry shrieked as the pain of the new bite crashed into the pain of the old.
Draco continued downward, biting each rib, marking every patch of skin. He
gripped and pinched and chewed at Harry’s soft stomach. Harry could no longer
talk through his tears. He lost track of where he was. He was being consumed,
just as the unicorn had been consumed… Draco was eating him whole! The idea of
that made Harry’s eyes fly open wide - JOY! - and he moaned, the sound coming
from deep inside his soul.
Yes! Eat me! Yours, Draco, oh god, yours!He had no sense of where Draco was
biting anymore. Waves of agony struck through him in waves. The unicorn
disappeared… Draco bleeding alone in the bathroom… the hate and guilt of all
his failures… it all faded under waves of white and red and pain, consumed by
Draco.
Draco lifted his mouth from Harry’s skin, hands gripping the boy’s slender
waist for balance, and looked up at Harry’s face. He was so fucking beautiful.
Green eyes bright and half-lidded, body shuddering as he wept softly, perfectly
limp and no longer resisting, letting Draco take everything away. Harry’s
chest, the back of his arms, and stomach were littered with dozens of swelling
bruises. Harry looked spotted like a Dalmatian. Harry was hisand so fucking
beautiful!
Heart filled with overwhelming love, Draco stroked and squeezed Harry’s thighs,
letting the boy come down a bit. Harry’s soft cries slowed and those dazed
green eyes slowly came back into focus. Harry whimpered and shivered, covered
in a sheen of sweat even as his teeth began to chatter, tinged blue.
“With me, Harry?” Draco asked in a soft rasp, eyes burning with possessive
hunger.
“… yes, Draco…” came Harry’s dazed, hoarse whisper; he was floating on a wave
of bliss and pain. He was Draco’s; Draco waseating him!
Draco made sure Harry was watching him with those gorgeous green eyes. He
leaned over and kissed the boy’s tender inner thigh before biting cruelly down.
Harry arched against the rope, a high-pitched whine escaping him. Draco turned
his head to give a matching bite to the opposite thigh. Harry shrieked!
“I’ve got you… So beautiful, Harry… so goddamn beautiful…”
Draco rose up on his knees. Their positions put Draco a little taller than his
boy as he looked down with heated eyes into Harry’s slack, pain-filled face.
Panting, he reached behind Harry to grip his bound wrists for balance. Harry
moaned as that put more strain on his shoulders. The sound made Draco ache deep
inside his gut.
He stared down at Harry’s cold, bruised body, drinking in the bruises and
bites, every tremble and shudder of Harry’s slender, lightly muscled body.
Harry was covered in Draco’s marks, blissed out and flying, tears falling down
his face… It made Draco burn with lust. Blindly, his left hand fumbled open his
pants. He’d never been so hard before. He could feel his dick throbbing. Almost
desperately he gripped his cock. The shocking pleasure made Draco groan, his
eyes fluttering closed for a brief second.
Harry’s vision slowly swam clear. Everything hurt, throbbing and hot, cold and
aching, but it was quiet again insidde. He was cocooned and insulated,
completely and utterly Draco’s. Nothing else could touch him. Whimpering, he
blinked and saw that Draco’s face was close to his own. The blond was on his
knees only a few inches away from him. He was flushed, his mouth parted as he
panted. He wore a dark blue sweater that hugged his thin frame, the V of the
neckline revealing sharp collarbones and emphasizing the milky white color of
his perfect skin. The long sleeves fell just past the wrist that was working up
and down, steadily going faster.
Harry stared, eyes wide. Draco’s hand was fisted tightly around his cock. He
had never seen Draco’s cock so red, glistening, and swollen, rising tall from
the open jeans. Glancing up into the blond’s face, Harry saw that Draco was
staring down at his naked body, eyes bright with an obvious hunger. Harry
groaned, shocked and pleased that Draco wanted him.
Draco’s hold on his bound wrists grew tighter and Harry tensed every muscle to
keep them both upright. Draco was panting hard now, almost growling. His breath
and skin took on a faintly musky scent that went straight to Harry’s cock. His
fist began to pump wildly now.
“Draco…” Harry whimpered, pupils blown. His body throbbed in agony, the painful
cold only slightly numbing his battered skin and Draco was so bright and
beautiful and good… “Hurts… so good… Draco…” he sobbed.
Panting, magic throbbing and twisting in the air, his senses vibrating, Draco
pumped his cock faster, his eyes riveted to the dozens of bite marks covering
Harry’s soft skin.The - love adoration submission - that filled the bond pushed
him even closer to the edge.
“Fuck, yes, good, so fucking good…” -* MINE! * he bellowed deep in Harry’s mind
as he came with a long, drawn out groan.
Harry gasped and arched his body as much as he could, offering more of himself
to Draco as hot cum splattered his stomach. The inked dragon on his side
flapped its wings madly as Draco groaned and leaned against him. They were both
panting, nearly breathless. It was agony where Draco pressed up against him,
but Harry thrilled in it. Draco’s… He was Draco’s! … Draco wanted him, loved
him, saved him; he had made Harry clean!
Shivering, teeth chattering, Harry rubbed his cheek against the side of Draco’s
head and whispered in a dazed, blissed out voice, “Love you… thank you, Draco…
Yours…”
Draco gave a soft, breathy laugh. “We’re not done yet, Harry.”
Magic snapped and crackled around them, not yet complete. Harry shivered and
whimpered as Draco pulled away from him. Draco dragged his hand through the
mess on Harry’s stomach, making the boy flinch and gasp as he rubbed across the
broken and bruised skin.
Fingers slick, Draco teasingly squeezed the head of Harry’s cock with his
fingertips. It was pink and stiff, rising up against Harry’s lower belly above
soft, hairless balls. Draco’s index finger pressed and rubbed at the little
hole. Harry whimpered, head thrown back as much as his arms would allow. Draco
gave a lazy smile and tapped at the tip, slowly at first and then faster and
faster, hitting harder and harder.
Panting, sobbing, Harry trembled and shook, arms bound above and behind him,
completely at Draco’s mercy. He never pulled away, even as the shocks of
pleasure began to burn painfully. The heat of their magic coiled and twisted.
Harry was so close! His vision swam in and out of focus, his mouth hang slack,
drool slicking the corners of his battered lips.
Draco leaned forward to lick some of Harry’s spit from his chin. He chuckled,
pressing his forehead to Harry’s, staring into those blazing green eyes as he
began to tug up and down, thumb rubbing hard at the reddened, swollen head on
every up-swing. His fist made a squelching sound, dirty and wet. It made Draco
tingle and twitch; god he loved it when Harry got wet! He put their mouths
together so that with every gasp Harry only got Draco’s air, owned from inside
and out.
“Want it, Harry… Give it to me… Want to see you cum with my marks and cum all
over you,” he growled, silver eyes glowing.
“Draco, Draco, Draco, Draco…” Harry chanted near breathlessly, lost in a sea of
pained pleasure.
Their tangled magic throbbed and pulsed. Harry was cold and hot and hurt
everywhere, his attention riveted on the pulsing heat and shocks of pleasure
where Draco pumped his hand up and down, rubbing brutally at his over
sensitized tip. Muscles spasming and toes curling, his hips pushed forward for
more. Loud wails shook though him as Draco’s tempo grew faster.
Draco’s free hand clenched in Harry’s hair, keeping the boy’s gaping mouth
right against his, their breath cycling as Draco hungrily ate every moan and
whimper. Soft little sobbing cries spilled from Harry’s lips, “auh, ahn, auh,”
as he gave small thrusts into Draco’s tight, slick fist. So close… He was so
close to the edge… He sobbed, mouth slack, eyes glassy.
“Mine,”Draco growled possessively right into the boy’s mouth.
Harry gave a loud, wrecked cry, the sound making Draco gasp and shiver. Cum
shot out of the boy, splattering Harry’s naked stomach and Draco’s hand. Their
magic crashed and rolled outwards, deep like thunder. Blacking out, Harry began
to collapse sideways.
Draco guided his fall so that Harry lay on his side on the bed, wrists and
ankles still connected and bound behind him. Draco lay facing his boy as echoes
of fading pleasure burst under his skin. Unable to keep his hands off, he
spread their mixed cum over as many bites as he could. It made him tingle and
throb to think of it there, invisibly marking Harry further.
After a few minutes, Harry softly groaned, eyes fluttering open. His pupils
were wide, still high from the orgasm.
Draco smiled into that dazed expression. “I love you, Harry.”
Harry smiled sweetly back. “Love you… so much…” he whispered, voice wrecked.
Draco leaned forward to softly kiss Harry’s lips. Long and languid, their lips
moved slowly, Draco swallowing down his boy’s soft sighs.
Eventually Harry began shivering too hard to ignore. Draco sat up and moved to
kneel behind his boy. He untied the rope from around Harry’s ankles. Bruises
were left behind from when Harry had unconsciously pulled and strained against
the rope’s hold.
Draco reverently traced over them and then glanced up at the hands still bound
behind Harry’s head. “I’m leaving your wrists bound.”
Harry nodded and straightened his legs, rolling onto his back. His bound wrists
came to rest on his thoroughly marked chest. It hurt at first, but then the
pain subsided into a dull throbbing and he was comfortable.
“You’re not to heal any of these without my permission,” Draco commanded and
lazily slid two fingers into Harry’s battered mouth. “Get them wet for me.”
Harry was filled to bursting with safety and warmth. He closed his eyes on a
sigh and lapped lovingly at Draco’s fingers. As soon as the blond pulled them
free of his mouth, he whispered, “Yes, Draco…” - love submission.
Draco smiled and leaned over to kiss Harry’s fat lip one more time. “Such a
good boy for me,” he praised.
- joy surprise gratitude - Tears spilled from Harry’s closed eyes. “Draco…”
Draco smiled and gently traced Harry’s lips before sliding over to his jaw and
cheek. He hated erasing the marks, but he knew he couldn’t leave any that would
be visible over Harry’s clothes. Reverently he stroked the bites and
strangulation bruises on Harry’s neck, watching as they slowly faded away under
his touch.
Harry was sweet and pliant, slow tears soaking his cheeks and the pillow under
his head, but they weren’t tears of pain or self disgust any more. They were
tears of relief and peace, a washing clean of all the darkness that had come
before.
Humming, Draco cupped Harry’s face and kissed him softly, lapping at the inside
of the boy's mouth and drinking the tears from his healed lips. Pulling away
after a long minute, Draco sat up to close the bed curtains and pull their
thick, warm blankets over them. He held Harry, whispering words of love and
praise until Harry fell into a deep, restful sleep, held safe in Draco’s
keeping.
Staring at the red canopy above his head, Draco thought hard. They were a week
into December. Two weeks had gone by since their conversation with Hagrid and
Harry was running himself into the ground with Quidditch practice most
mornings, classes all day, essays and studying, and then trying to ward all of
Draco’s clothes for three hours every night. Spread so thin, it wasn’t any
wonder Harry was burning out and performing poorly.
His grades had dropped from E’s with the occasional O to mostly A’s. Some
nights Harry could only get through warding one sleeve instead of half a robe
as he’d done the first time. Harry explained he had to be utterly focused on
the feeling of wanting to protect Draco, but exhaustion and worry made his mind
cloudy.
Worse yet was that the warding only lasted a few days before Harry had to re-
ward it. As it stood, Harry was only able to keep one robe fully warded at any
given time. Draco thought this was fine. He was able to switch between them,
giving Harry the robe with the failing ward to fix while he wore the one that
was freshly warded, but of course Harry didn’t agree. He still felt as if he’d
failed Draco by not providing more shielding.
Technically, Draco’s feet and ankles were still exposed and vulnerable, so were
his head and hands, and anything else that wasn’t covered by his robe. If the
bullies figured that out, then Draco would be an easy target once more.
However, Draco’s bullies weren’t exactly geniuses and the warding had been
extremely successful.
Draco no longer tripped or danced or grew sick in the halls. Several people
around him had been hit instead as the jinxes and curses bounced off, so now
the attacks had stopped completely. Of course, Draco knew that meant they were
biding their time and working up to an even bigger attack, but he was careful
and watchful.
More importantly, they weren’t making very much progress regarding the stone.
While Harry warded at night, Draco and Hermione researched ways of destroying
something as powerful as the Sorcerer’s Stone. So far they had come up with
nothing. Hermione had also asked Professor Flitwick for tutoring, but she
hadn’t yet found an opening to ask about the stone. In fact, the only one who
had made any progress in that area was Neville.
Neville had asked Professor Sprout for a tour of the upper year greenhouses and
had noticed an empty spot in one of them. Turned out a big Devil’s Snare plant
was missing. Sprout tried to convince Neville it had gotten damaged and she’d
sent it off to be repaired, but they knew better.
So it wasn’t any wonder that Harry had this breakdown. Draco stroked the boy’s
thick, messy hair and hummed some more. Something had to give, but Draco wasn’t
sure what. If he forced Harry to give up warding, Harry would take that as
proof of his failure, that Draco didn’t believe in him. Quidditch practice was
time consuming and physically exhausting, but it was the only time in the day
Harry felt relaxed and somewhat happy. Harry was really proud of his last win.
And of course their classes and the amount of assignments wouldn’t disappear.
Draco was well and truly stuck. He had no idea how to help his boy or make
things more bearable. They had to destroy the stone! Once they did, Snape’s
plans would be crushed and the Dark Lord’s presence would leave this place. So
would these dreams of Harry’s. They’d be free to relax and focus purely on
school again.
Sighing, Draco rested his cheek on Harry’s head briefly before carefully
pulling away. Maybe it was time to ask for outside help. Determined, he crept
quietly to their desk and opened a notebook. He had two letters to write.
Chapter end.
A/N:I hope the two week time jump from last chapter to this and Draco’s inner
monologue and summary at the end wasn’t too abrupt. I tried to make it as
smooth as possible. :D
The scene with Draco and Harry at the beginning gave me huge fits. I had to ask
for help to make sure the feelings between Draco and Harry and the
psychological needs of both were expressed clearly - THANK YOU, BABYVFAN.
I’d love any feedback you guys can give.
Sorry I’ve been relying on you all so much lately!! I hope everyone is enjoying
the story and will continue to be patient as I work through my writing issues
as of late.
 
***** Integrity *****
A/N:Happy Yule! Sorry for the delay. I really appreciate all the great
feedback. :)
Things are slowly but surely moving forward. This is the start of very big
things.
Integrity
Ron told Dean and Seamus to go on without him. He’d been surprised when Neville
had come sneaking into his room, the other boy blushing and stuttering about
Draco and Harry needing space. Ron had grumbled in confusion, but he’d moved
over and fallen right back to sleep. In the light of morning, however, he was
worried about his friends. 
“What do you mean he had a bad nightmare? How bad? And about what?” His hair
had gotten longer, falling over the tops of his ears and across his forehead.
He brushed it impatiently back as he gave the other boy a hard stare.
“I d-don’t k-know,” Neville answered nervously, his eyes darting to the side.
Ron could have growled. It was clear Neville was trying to protect Harry’s
secret, but from Ron? It was true that his friends had been distant lately,
always shut away or buried in books, but he’d been so sure if something serious
was going on, they’d include him. 
He dressed quickly, pulling on his warmest clothes. A sharp chill was coming
off the stones; the winter solstice may be days away, but no one had told the
weather that. The school was hours north of his home and was proving to be much
colder than he was used to. Brows lowered in a scowl, he followed Neville back
to his room to see what was going on with his friends.
Draco was already up and dressed, sitting at the desk with his legs crossed as
he watched Harry. He wore jeans, his black Converse shoes, and a heavy, dark
blue sweater. Draco’s school robe and a thick cloak with black fur around the
collar were draped over the bed, waiting. 
Harry stood by the armoire. He had on wool slacks that were a dark grey in
color, black leather ankle-boots, a blue, long-sleeved dress shirt tucked into
his pants, and was just pulling on a black wool sweater. His head popped out of
the hole, his hair messier than normal and with his black-framed glasses
already on his face. 
Harry gave them a shy smile. “Good morning,” he said softly.
“Morning, Harry,” Ron answered absently. He crossed the distance to stand next
to the desk, eyes on the inscrutable blond. “What happened last night?” he
demanded quietly.
Neville busied himself getting dressed and ready for the day. Fortunately, they
had no classes as it was Sunday. They all would have probably slept in a bit,
but in a few hours, directly after breakfast, the Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw
Quidditch match would start. Harry helped him get ready, apologizing about the
night before.
“Harry had a nightmare,” Draco answered simply. His grey eyes cut upward to
hold Ron’s gaze. “It was a bad one, but I handled it. He got a few more hours
of sleep afterward.”
“What’s been going on with you two?” He shot Draco a warning glare. “And don’t
tell me it’s nothing. We’re friends, aren’t we? If somethings going on, let me
help.”
Draco sighed. He propped his elbow on the edge of the desk and rested his cheek
against his fist. “It’s complicated and dangerous. Honestly, I don’t know if
there is anything you can do to help or I would have asked.”
Ron flushed red. “But Pleasant and Longbottom can?” he hissed.
Draco’s eyes narrowed. He stood in a smooth movement. Ron was taller, but at
least it was only a few inches instead of the redhead standing over him while
he was still sitting. “Neville’s been an enormous help and Hermione is amazing
at research. What exactly do you expect to accomplish by being a jerk? Don’t
let your temper lead, Ron. We’ve talked about this before.”
At first Ron looked about to explode. His fists clenched; his jaw tensed.
Neville froze, watching with wide eyes, but Harry continued pulling out his
friend’s outerwear for the day, unconcerned.
Draco remained calm, steadily staring into Ron’s eyes, and a miracle happened.
Ron let out a huge breath. His shoulders loosened, his fists uncurled. He took
a slow breath in and let it out softly. 
“I’m worried. I’d like to know what’s happening. I wanna help,” the redhead
eventually said. His voice was calm. His eyes were steady.
Draco gave a nod to acknowledge Ron’s efforts. “Thank you.” He reached out to
gently squeeze his shoulder in praise. “Like I said, it’s dangerous and
complicated. We can’t get into it now. If you want to know what’s happening,
we’re going to meet up after the match. You could join us.”
Ron gave a determined nod. “Well, let’s go then.” He broke out into a
irrepressible grin. “I’m hungry! Breakfast is on!”
Draco smiled indulgently. He held his hand out to Harry and his boy immediately
came to his side, accepting it. Draco couldn’t help but think of the dozens of
tender bites that even now must be throbbing on Harry’s skin, hidden away under
his sweater and shirt. Draco slid his hand up Harry’s arm until he reached the
back above the elbow. He squeezed gently and thrilled in the way Harry sucked
in a soft breath. 
- love pain gratitude - 
Practically purring, Draco turned his attention back to the room. Neville was
just pulling on his school robe. They were ready. Draco released Harry to
quickly slip into his warded school robe and pull on his cloak. Harry did the
same, grabbing two sets of Gryffindor hats, gloves, and scarves.
Breakfast was a loud, rowdy affair, everyone excited for the second Quidditch
match of the year. It didn’t help that the illusion of snow was falling from
the enchanted ceiling, indicating the first snowfall had occurred.
As soon as they stepped outside, sloppy snowballs were flying through the air
between shrieking kids. Fred and George threw one at Draco, but it missed and
hit Harry. It exploded with a whump. Harry staggered with a wince, his hand
coming up to shield his chest from further attacks. Draco shot them a vicious
glare. The twins bolted, laughing loudly. 
Draco made sure to walk directly in front of Harry the rest of the way to the
pitch.* I can heal them…* he offered quietly, mind-to-mind.
Harry shook his head hard in refusal, a hot blush rising on his cheeks - desire
embarrassment.
Draco grinned.
It was cold. Everyone was bundled up in hats, scarves, mittens. Noses red, they
cheered as the game started, yellow and blue players soaring into the sky.
Goals were scored, bludgers were smacked straight at players, but inevitably
the snitch was spotted and a winner would soon be decided. The Seekers were
neck-in-neck, their shoulders bumping into each other as they tried to knock
the other player off the trail. With Harry’s excitement burning through him,
Draco cheered so loudly he was in danger of losing his voice.
Hufflepuff caught the snitch, the Seeker performing a crazy summersault as he
leapt off his broom to win the golden ball before the Ravenclaw Seeker could
grab it. The spectators went wild, except for those in Ravenclaw blue. Draco
shook his head as Harry jumped up and down next to him.
Ron and Draco were still talking about it as they made their way to the library
where Hermione was waiting for them. (She did not approve of violent sports or
standing stupidly out in the cold to watch them.)
“But how do you think they feel now?” Draco was insisting. “Ravenclaw was
clearly the better team. They outmaneuvered Hufflepuff in every way. Their
Seekers were evenly matched. Hufflepuff just happened to be more daring, so
they won the game, but is it really a win when you know your team wasn’t the
better one?”
“Daring is a valid quality in the game! They had more, so they won fair and
square. Of course it’s a real win!” Ron protested.
“Fine, but as for the rest of the team, they were clearly not as good.”
Ron had nothing to say to that except a petulant, “You can’t take the snitch
out of Quidditch, Draco!”
“Then it should be less points. Say, fifty. Or make the goals scored with the
quaffle worth more. Instead of ten, they should be worth thirty.”
Ron hated the idea, but he had no way to battle Draco’s logic. Instead he
changed the subject. They were in the library at this point and he could see
Longbottom-Pleasant sitting at a table toward the back. “Look, there she is.
Now can you tell me what’s going on?”
Her thick, frizzy hair was pulled back away from her face in a low ponytail.
Several books were spread out around her, a few open, a few shut and waiting to
be used. As the four boys took seats, filling out the table, she lifted her
eyebrows at Ron’s inclusion. 
Draco gave her a reassuring smile. “At the very least, a new perspective might
help.”
Hermione looked doubtful, but she didn’t interrupt as Draco began to explain
the bare bones of the situation. He left out mention of Snape and the Dark
Lord, but he did explain it was very important for them to destroy the stone
since Dumbledore’s hands were tied. If the stone fell into the possession of
someone evil, it would be very bad for everyone.
Ron frowned as he listened, his mind spinning with possibilities and
strategies. “The Devil’s Snare will likely be the next defense after the
cerberus.”
“You can’t possibly know that,” Hermione snapped.
Ron shot her a heated glare. “I can’t know it, but it’s likely.”
“How in the world is it likely?” she demanded.
“Because Devil’s Snare is only dangerous if you come into contact with it. Most
people know what it is and would destroy it from a distance. The only way it
would be worthwhile as a defense is if you arranged it so someone was forced to
come into contact with it. I’m thinking the cerberus is guarding a trap door
and you’ll have to drop down into the next room right into the middle of the
Devil’s Snare. It’s just too perfect a chance to fully utilize the Snare’s
defensive capability.”
Hermione had a look of surprise on her face while Draco looked smug. “That’s…
brilliant,” she admitted.
Ron turned bright red to the tips of his ears. “Not really. Just logical is
all.”
“Exactly,” she responded.
He shot her a nasty glare, blush disappearing. “I’m not stupid!” he growled.
She said nothing; the implication being that it was debatable.
Draco intervened before Ron could explode. “That leaves us with four more
defenses and we have no idea how to find out what they are.”
“Potions, Tranfiguration, Charms, and whatever Dumbledore cooked up,” Ron
summarized.
“We’ll never figure out Dumbledore’s,” Neville said in defeat, slumping in his
chair.
“Probably not,” Ron agreed. “Or Potions. Snape wouldn’t tell us if his life
depended on it and especially not if our lives depended on it.”
“McGonagall is sharp. She’s not going to let us trick it out of her,” Draco
added. He hooked his bangs behind his ears sharply, a gesture of frustration. 
Hermione scowled down at the book she had open. “I’m having no luck with
Flitwick.”
“Well, we could follow the person stealing it,” Ron offered. They all stared at
him. “What?” he demanded, crossing his arms defensively. “They would have to
get through the defenses, right? To get to the stone to steal it. We could go
in behind them. It shouldn’t be so hard then. We would at least see how they
got through them if they didn’t take them down completely.”
“And then what?” Hermione hissed furiously. “We’ll be too late.”
“Not necessarily.” Draco gave Harry a thoughtful look. Trusting green eyes
stared back. “If we go in right on the thief’s heels, we could destroy it
before they escaped with it.”
“That sounds really, really dangerous,” Hermione protested softly, dark brown
eyes filled with worry.
Draco ignored that. “So we need to make finding out how to destroy the stone
our top priority and we’ll set an alarm so we’ll know right away if someone
tries to get past Fluffy.” He reached over to squeeze Ron’s shoulder. “Thanks,
Ron. You were a huge help.”
Ron shot Hermione a dazzling smile. 
She scowled and looked away.
xXx
Harry was exhausted. From the stress of the last few weeks, from the night
terror the night before and Draco’s claiming, from the constant low level pain
of the bites left on his body… That meant he didn’t realize at first what was
pulling him from a deep sleep. 
It was dark, cold, but warm under the blankets. He wasn’t dreaming. Just
sleeping deeply, body heavy. Soft, almost not there scratch-scritch-
scratchingreached his ears. Scritch-scratch, scritch-scratch. Harry’s brow
tensed and then his eyes squinted open. Was it a mouse eating at the walls? 
Too dark to see, his hand slid over soft, warm sheets to feel empty space.
Adrenaline dumped into his blood and hit his brain like a truck. Draco was
missing! He sat up quickly and scrambled to the edge with the nightstand. He
flung the curtain open and tapped the lamp. It fluttered to life. 
Scritch-scratch, scritch-scratch. 
Harry’s eyes darted around what he could see of the room, but he couldn’t see…
“Draco?” he called in an urgent voice. 
Scratch-scratch-scritch…
Harry crawled to the other side of the bed and flung aside the curtain. He
gasped, eyes wide. Draco was crouched in the shadows between the bed and the
wall wearing nothing but a white t-shirt. His hands slowly clawed at the stone
floor… Scritch-scratch, scritch-scratch…Harry couldn’t see his face, but
Draco’s body was tensed, rigid. 
“Draco…” Harry called - worry fear love.
He got no reaction. Some of Draco’s nails had broken and were bloody… Scratch-
scratch-scritch…
Climbing out of bed, Harry crossed the small space between them. His heart
pounded in his throat as he reached out a trembling hand. “Draco…” Harry’s
fingertips gently touched the blond’s tensed shoulder.
Draco whipped around, face contorted with a snarl, eyes wild and wide. He made
a screeching sound that had Harry screaming and scrambling back. Draco scuttled
with shocking speed underneath the bed and the scritch-scratch, scritch-
scratchstarted again.
“Harry…” Neville’s sleepy voice made him jump. “What’s going on?”
Harry’s voice shook. From the cold and fear. “Get Percy please?” He only wore
his own sleep shirt. His feet were bare and already he was shivering. How long
had Draco been out of bed? He must be frozen solid! Slowly, Harry crouched to
see under the bed. 
Draco lunged at him. Harry yelled, falling back on his butt. Draco landed on
top of him, shrieking. Sharp broken nails scratched at Harry’s neck, caught at
his collar. Harry wrapped his arms around the blond, ignoring the pain, and let
his magic flood free. Draco shrieked like a wounded animal and dove back under
the bed. 
Dazed, Harry lay bleeding from the scratches at his throat and shoulders. He
could hear Neville hyperventilating. He rolled onto his hands and knees, then
stood. “Neville, get Percy. I’ll stay and watch him.”
“We need Madam Pomfrey! Or Dumbledore!” Neville protested, terrified. 
“She doesn’t help! No one helps,” Harry snapped, eyes narrowed.“Get Percy!
Hurry!”
Neville scrambled out of bed and bolted past him. He didn’t bother with a
sleeping robe or slippers. 
Draco darted for the door, face contorted into something crazy. Harry leapt in
front of him, arms open and magic radiating from his body. Draco veered away
with an animalistic hiss. He climbed onto the middle bed and pressed himself
against the headboard. A crazy croaking escaped his wide-open mouth, clicking
occasionally. The sound made goosebumps rise along Harry’s arms and the back of
his neck. 
Harry’s heart beat a crazy rhythm. Oh god what was wrong with Draco? “It’s
okay,” he said breathlessly. “It’s going to be okay. I’m going to take care of
you.”
Scratch-scratch-scritch… Draco clawed at the wood of the headboard behind him.
His head tilted, the creepy sound coming from his throat growing louder. Harry
bit his lip, terrified, as Draco’s head seemed to turn almost upside down, eyes
bulging and unblinking.
“What’s happening to you?” Harry whispered, tears of horror welling in his
eyes. “Draco…”
xXx
Neville beat almost blindly on Percy’s door. He was too panicked to think
clearly, so when Oliver Wood opened it with a sleepy look of wrath, Neville
latched onto his arm to keep from falling forward and practically screamed in
his face. 
“Percy! I need Percy! Draco’s acting crazy! Something’s wrong with him.
Something's really wrong!”
Oliver looked shocked and then really worried. “Longbottom, what…?”
Percy appeared behind the Quidditch captain. He placed a hand on Neville’s
shoulder as he passed, pushing him gently into the room. “Stay here. You can
have my bed.”
“Percy…” Oliver stared at the other boy in surprise. The redhead could be
bossy, but he was mostly quiet and a loner. Oliver had never heard him sound so
intense or serious before. 
Percy didn’t answer, slipping silently down the hall and disappearing into the
shadows. 
Oliver shook his head and shut the door behind the clearly freaked First-year.
“Alright, kid. Guess you’re bunking with us.”
Neville swallowed hard and wrapped his arms around his chest. Three other boys
were sitting up and staring with either curiosity or annoyance. 
Oliver waved them off. “Show’s over. Go back to sleep,” he ordered as he guided
Neville to Percy’s bed. 
Neville didn’t resist. He didn’t want to go back to his room. Draco had been
terrifying, like something possessed. He shivered hard and crawled under the
still warm comforter. He pulled it over his head to muffle his heavy breathing.
“Hey. It’s going to be fine. Percy’s a know-it-all. I’m sure he’ll fix it,”
Oliver reassured the boy. He was already falling back to sleep.
Neville really hoped he was right because Draco was not okay.
xXx
Percy didn’t know what to expect, but he knew it had to be bad to scare the
Longbottom boy and have Harry sending for him. He took a deep breath, his wand
held tightly in his right hand, and quietly opened the door, slipping inside
and shutting it quickly behind him. 
Almost immediately he tensed as the most terrifying sound reached his ears.
Draco was croaking,  crouched on all fours on a bed. He looked to be trying to
throw something up, his back arching violently every few seconds. His face was
twisted in the most hateful expression, eyes bulging and locked on Harry. 
Harry stood frozen, eyes wide as he watched the blond. He stood in nothing but
a t-shirt. His neck was bleeding from several scratches, staining the collar of
his shirt a vivid red. There were round bruises on the back of his arms and
circling his wrists, but otherwise he seemed fine. 
Percy’s eyes snapped back to Draco. He had never seen anything like it. He
shuddered in horror and carefully lifted his wand. Before he could cast a
single spell, Draco flung himself up on his knees and began to scream bloody
murder. Percy and Harry both slammed their hands over their ears in shock.
Draco clawed as his head, ripping white strands free from his scalp. Harry ran
forward and flung himself on the blond. Draco immediately began to thrash and
struggle, still screaming like a banshee, head and arms whipping back and
forth. Harry held on for dear life, tucking his head in against Draco’s neck.
Percy darted forward and cast the strongest sleeping spell he knew, lashing the
blond across the shin with his wand.
Draco should have been out like a light, but instead he slowly weakened. His
scream tampered off into broken whimpers as his arms stilled. After thirty
seconds, he was finally silent and unconscious. Harry lifted his head and
kissed the blond’s pale lips, pushing as much of his love and healing magic as
he could through the connection.
Percy backed off, breathing hard as he tried to understand everything he’d
seen.
xXx
Draco was somewhere dark. His chest felt heavy and his stomach churned, a
distorted, sick feeling of butterflies. Tears welled in his eyes. He felt
hopeless. There was no point. No point to fighting or caring. It didn’t matter
in the end. Anxiety churned harder and he clenched his fist over his stomach.
What about Harry? Fuck, what was he going to do? 
He could almost taste it, the feel of Harry’s warm magic, but it was as if a
thick sheet of glass separated him from the bond, from the world. He was in a
dark place. Alone. He hadn’t been alone since he was five. He’d felt this
crushing hopelessness back then, too, but he’d learned to survive. Learned to
hunker down, conserve his resources, and wait. Draco wasn’t sure he had it in
him this time. He was so fucking tired. The world was closing in around him and
he felt sick.
xXx
Percy didn’t have long to think about what was going on or the fact that
Harry’s bruises were from bites. Draco’s eyes opened and he weakly pushed at
Harry, which shouldn’t be possible. Percy’s spell should have knocked him out
until he cast the counter. He tensed, ready for another crazed attack. Harry,
on the other hand, pulled back with a soft breath of surprise and a burning
look of hope. 
Percy expected Draco to immediately comfort the smaller boy, but instead Draco
turned his face away. Percy frowned. As Harry sat back on his heels, he shot
Percy a pleading look. Percy straightened his back and took charge. He had four
younger siblings. The instincts drilled into him by his mother on how to deal
with sick kids kicked in.
“I’m going to wash him up. Clean up the room. We’ll be back.”
Harry nodded, eyes wide as he watched Percy scoop Draco into his arms bridal
style and carried him to the door.
Draco lay complacently in the older teenager’s arms. What was the fucking point
of fighting it? At least it got him away from Harry. Tears burned his cheeks.
He began to gasp, unable to catch his breath.
Percy shut the bathroom door behind him, placed Draco on his feet, and quickly
spelled the door locked and soundproof. He turned back to see Draco standing as
if lost, arms wrapped around his chest, shaking in the midst of a panic
attack. 
Percy moved Draco to the side of the tub and sat him on the edge. He rubbed the
boy’s back, putting enough pressure to lean the boy forward. “That’s it. You’re
alright.” He reached behind Draco to turn on the hot water and stopper the
tub. 
Draco exploded into sudden movement. Heart banging in his chest, lightheaded,
he threw himself across the room. With his back to Percy, he pressed his
forehead against the cold tile, grit his teeth, and choked back the sobs. He
was coming apart; his control was shattered. He wanted to burrow into a dark
hole and never come out.
“Leave me the fuck alone,” Draco gasped when he had enough breath.
“I can’t, Draco,” Percy said softly. “I don’t know what’s going on with you. I
can’t risk you hurting yourself again.”
Draco snarled and hit the wall with a shaking fist. It hurt, but the pain and
anger began to ease the claws that were sunk deep in his chest. He gulped back
the tears and slowly his trembling stopped. He opened his fist and pressed his
hand flat to the wall. It was red where he’d hit it, but he also noticed his
nails were broken and short. There was no damage or blood - he vaguely
remembered the warm wash of Harry’s unique magic - but Draco knew he’d had to
have clawed at something hard to get them to look like that. It wouldn’t have
been pretty.
“Fuck!” he screamed and punched the wall again. Heavy anxiety and depression
consumed everything. Closed off his mind, blinded and smothered. He was still
shaking; his knees felt weak. “Harry?” he rasped. He pressed his forehead hard
against the cold tile of the wall.
“Safe,” Percy answered honestly. “Shaken up but unhurt…” There was a pause and
then the redhead said, “Except for the bites and bruising.”
Draco felt some of the tension leave his shaking frame. He could feel it again,
the current of Harry’s emotions - worry trust protective. “What happened?” he
rasped hoarsely, eyes closed.
Percy stared at the boy’s back. The feeling of the boy’s surprisingly light
weight in his arms wouldn’t leave him. Draco was so strong and indomitable. It
had been shocking to see him so vulnerable and pliant. He wouldn’t forget
Harry’s bruises or his suspicions about them, but now wasn’t the time to push.
“I don’t know how it started, but Longbottom came for me. I told him to stay in
my room and when I got here, you were crazed. Standing on the bed, making these
sounds… You didn’t recognize us at all. When you began to hurt yourself - you
were clawing at the headboard - Harry flung himself on you. While he held you
down, I was able to spell you to sleep. You should have stayed that way, but
after only a few minutes, you woke up.”
Draco turned around, arms back around his chest in a protective hold. His grey
eyes were dark with exhaustion, but he was alert, anger clear in the tight cast
of his face. “What the fuck’s happening to me?”
Percy held his gaze. “I don’t know for sure, but I don’t think it’s a spell.
I’ve heard stories that described something like what I saw. I think…” Percy
took a deep breath. “I think someone messed with your head.”
Draco felt a sick feeling of dread.
“Something like that is way beyond school-age magic,” Percy continued. He felt
sick as he remembered his own First-year. He’d gone almost out of his mind with
fear as he suffered those nightly visits - held down against his will, used as
a heavy weight sweated and rutted against him. He always blacked out and there
was never any evidence left behind in the morning. Magic had to be involved and
he was plagued with nearly debilitating questions. 
Was more being done and he was made not to remember? Were the terrifying
moments fake memories implanted by someone else? If he couldn’t even trust his
mind, how would he ever be able to stop it? What if itneverstopped?
Percy almost hadn’t made it home. He had contemplated death so many times, and
he was furious and sick over the fact that Draco was experiencing something
similar. Draco was just a child! “There are some…” he continued, throat tight
with emotion. “They don’t react well to mind altering spells. They fight it
unconsciously, experiencing demented and crazed episodes.”
Draco could hardly breathe. His vision was going black around the edges and he
had to lean against the wall for support. His mind? Someone had fucked with his
mind? He couldn’t remember anything like that… but he wouldn’t, would he?
“There’s a chance you can break the spell.” Percy looked up, hope in his eyes.
“There’s a chance.”
“And if I don’t?” Draco whispered. He now understood Harry’s desire to claw out
of his body. He felt disgusting and trapped inside his own skin.
“You’ll go insane,” Percy confessed. He ran a hand through his frizzy red
curls, brown eyes dark with worry. He sat at the edge of the tub in his blue
and white-stripped pajamas. “The episodes will get closer and closer until
that’s all that’s left. They’d lock you up in Saint Mungo’s. Potion you until
you’re calm and leave you there.”
Draco understood; he’d be placed in an asylum. Harry wouldn’t leave him. He’d
either be arrested or locked up too as the darkness was left unchecked. They’d
maybe share cells next to each other. Draco clenched his fists and grit his
teeth, fury washing his vision red.
“That’s not going to fucking happen,” he vowed, dark and murderous.
Percy shivered at the tone. “No. I don’t think it will.”
The rage washed out as fast as it had come and nearly took him to his knees as
terror washed in. What the fuck was he going to do to stop it? His mind had
been fucked with. With painful clarity, he suddenly remembered Harry’s sweet
voice saying, “You’re fighting it. And that means you’re going to beat it.”He
saw the faith and trust in Percy’s eyes. They believed in him. And it hurt,
that belief. Draco felt his breath quicken. Panic sat heavy on his chest. He
turned his back, biting his lip to keep broken sounds behind his teeth.
Percy turned the hot water off as it neared the edge of the tub. He didn’t know
what to do, what to say. Draco stood silently shaking, clinging to the cold
bathroom wall to keep his feet. He looked about to shatter. 
Standing, Percy said, “I’ll be in your room since I gave my bed to
Longbottom.” 
He didn’t know how to help, but he knew that him being there was only making it
harder for the blond. Maybe he needed a minute to cry and gather his strength?
Heart beating hard, he left Draco to his privacy and hoped to Merlin he was
making the right choice. 
Slipping into the First-year dorm, he saw that Harry had put on his sleeping
robe and had cleaned the room. There was no more blood on the walls, the
furniture was put back in place, the middle bed was made neatly as if no one
had touched it. Harry sat at the edge of the far right bed, but he got to his
feet as Percy quietly entered. 
“He’s taking a bath,” Percy reassured him, trying to smile.
Harry smiled in relief, tension leaving his shoulders, and slowly sat back
down. “Thank you, Percy. For taking care of him.” He felt a stab of jealousy,
but it quickly faded. What was important was Draco. Whatever helped Draco was
good and he was thankful.
Percy moved across the room and sat on the edge of the middle bed, facing
Harry. He couldn’t see the bruises because Harry’s robe was covering them, but
he knew they were there. He unconsciously moved his hand to push his glasses
higher up his nose. His fingers met air; he hadn’t had time to put them on when
Longbottom came banging on his door.
“Harry…” He cleared his throat. The boy stared at him attentively with bright
green eyes behind round glasses. His hair was a mess, but it always was. A soft
smile sat on his lips, ignorant to Percy’s worries. “Do they hurt?” He gestured
weakly at Harry’s arms.
Harry frowned in confusion and then lit up with recognition. His hand cupped
the back of his arm. Doing so had his sleeve falling down, revealing the
bruises encircling his wrist. Now that Percy could see them more clearly and up
close, they looked put there by a rope. The bruises were only on one side of
the wrist, but they had distinctly round edges. If Harry’s wrists were tied
together, the rope would only have gone around the outside as his inner wrists
would have been pressed together.
“Not much,” Harry answered easily. 
He didn’t look afraid or ashamed or embarrassed. Percy was quite confused. “Did
Draco do that to you?”
Harry nodded, his hand dropping casually into his lap. “Yes.” He looked up into
Percy’s eyes, love filling his gaze. “Draco takes care of me.”
Now Percy was even more baffled. “But why would he hurt you?”
Harry’s smile fell, his eyes dropping to his lap where his fingers now tangled
and twisted slowly together. “I need it,” he admitted. He looked back up at
Percy. He’d always wondered why others didn’t understand. Dobby did, but no one
else. Maybe Percy could understand. He wore Draco’s snake. Draco had marked him
as one of his. 
“I need to belong to him. Without Draco…” Harry shuddered. “I… I was ugly…
disgusting…” He shook his head, trying to find the right words. “You couldn’t
touch me without getting filthy… I was not human… I was a thing, evil and vile.
Sometimes other people can still see it… Like the ones who took us… They saw…
Tried to clean me… It hurt so bad…” 
His eyes flashed up to Percy, surprisingly bright and clear. “But not like
Draco! Draco doesn’t hurt me like they did… No he… He gets inside me, makes me
his… makes me new. I’m not dirty or broken or evil. I’m Draco’s! I’m good! I
take care of him and I can be a real person… Because nothing of Draco’s can be
bad. Draco’s amazing! He… He makes all the bad feel good…” Harry blushed,
remembering just how good Draco could make him feel. “You understand, don’t
you?” he asked hopefully. “Draco marked you, too. It hurt, but it made you
better. Being Draco’s makes everything better.”
Percy shared Harry’s blush. He couldn’t hold those earnest green eyes and
looked toward the door. He kind of did understand actually, but at the same
time it went against everything society taught him about, well, everything.
Pain was bad. Hurting others was bad. Kids shouldn’t do those kinds of things… 
But at the same time pain could sometimes be okay. When a doctor was treating
you, sometimes they had to hurt you more to make you well. Medicine was like
that, too. And Draco was sort of like medicine, really. As for the sex… 
Well, what do you expect? Kids are innocent. They had found something that felt
good, why would they stop? It’s like eating candy or cake. Kids didn’t
understand how it could be bad for them, right? Draco and Harry made each other
feel good, so why wouldn’t they? Percy had witnessed a few moments of them
getting off. Draco had been rough, but Harry had always seemed to really like
everything Draco did. 
Now bright red, Percy left the bed to put some distance between him and Harry
and all these confusing, conflicting thoughts. He understood, but he didn’t.
Bruised wrists and bites were way more violent than anything he’d seen the boys
do together that was for sure, but Harry was comfortable and happy. He wasn’t
embarrassed to talk about it at all. There was no shame in his voice or
expression. And the way he had talked about himself… 
It sent shivers of horror up and down Percy’s spine. To hear such horrible
things said in a child’s voice… It made him feel sick. Whatever had made Harry
feel that way seemed way more horrific than the bites and bruises that Harry
seemed perfectly happy to wear.
They sat in silence after that. Percy began to get nervous as an hour passed.
Should he check on the blond? Harry was staring at him expectantly now,
silently asking where Draco was. Percy bit his lip. He should go check. He
stood just as Draco stepped into the room, hair damp from his bath, his cheeks
red from the heat of the water. 
The blond looked better, if a little tired. Harry immediately went to his side.
Draco pulled him into a hug, rubbing his cheek against the side of Harry’s
head. “I’m okay,” he promised. He pushed Harry gently away to look into his
eyes. “You okay?”
Harry nodded quickly, but Draco had seen the scratches at his throat.
Eyes narrowed, he pressed three fingers at Harry’s mouth. Harry opened his lips
immediately to accept them inside. Draco was soft and gentle. His other hand
came to rest at Harry’s throat, his thumb stroking over the leather collar.
When his fingers were wet enough, he slipped them out of Harry’s soft, warm
mouth and spread the boy’s healing magic over the scratches and cuts. He pulled
aside the robe to make sure to heal the ones on the boy’s slender shoulders. 
Percy watched all this from several feet away. His shoulders loosened and he
could feel the tension easing out of his body. Draco was so gentle and
conscientious. It was clear how much he adored Harry. He really did take care
of him. Percy would keep an eye on Harry, but for now he didn't know what to
say about the bruises. 
xXx
Draco never did go back to sleep. He sat watching over Harry sleeping next to
him and Percy asleep in the next bed. They both had been exhausted. Truth be
told, Draco was too, but he couldn’t sleep, not with the thought of his mind
being fucked with. If that was true, there was no cure. They’d just have to
wait to see if he beat it or went crazy, clearly his mind wouldn’t give up
fighting whatever it was. 
It was only a few hours later when Neville stepped nervously into the room.
Draco was already dressed and writing at the desk. He stood and went to the
other boy. Neville squeaked in surprise as he was pulled into a tight hug.
“Thank you, Neville. You really helped me out. I swear I’m going to do
everything I can to make sure that doesn’t happen again.”
“What did happen?” Neville asked. He’d been scared Draco would be just as he
was last night and he was painfully relieved to see that Percy had been able to
fix it. 
“Someone cast a spell on my mind and it didn’t take. Not all the way,” Draco
told him honestly. 
He wrapped his arm around the boy’s shoulders and walked him toward Neville’s
bed. He sat his friend down and crouched so he could look up at the other boy.
Neville’s eyes were wide in a very pale face. He gently took the boy’s limp
hands. 
“I know it’s scary and I can’t really expect you to believe me, but I’m
fighting whatever they did to me. I might have more of those episodes, but I
promise I’m going to do everything I can to beat this, okay?”
“We need to tell someone!” Neville exclaimed. Images of his parents burned
bright in his mind. He clamped his hands down around Draco’s, suddenly
desperate and terrified. “You need help!”
Harry and Percy had been woken by their talking and were watching from their
beds. They said nothing, letting Draco handle it.
Draco soothed him, making a hushing noise, as he stood and wrapped Neville into
a hug again. He was surprised at the strength of the boy’s reaction, but now
wasn’t the time to question it. “I would, Neville, but there’s nothing anyone
can do to help. It’s something I gotta do on my own. There’s even a chance
they’d want to lock me up until I broke through it.” He pulled away to look
into the boy’s wide brown eyes. “Neville, that would only make me worse. You
understand, don’t you?”
Neville nodded. He totally got that. He loved his parents, mourned their loss
every day, but visiting them in that place was very difficult. It was a
horrible place to be. He held tight to Draco’s hands. Draco had been hurt -
Someone had attacked his mind! - and Neville had run away. “Is there anything I
can do?”
Draco’s blond hair fell from behind his left ear as he tilted his head with a
cocky smile. “Keep being a good friend. That’s all I need.”
Neville smiled, lips wobbling, as tears filled his eyes. He flung his arms
around Draco’s neck and gave him a hug. 
Draco hugged him back, briefly stroking his hair before pulling away. “Get
dressed. We all need a good breakfast.”
Neville wiped his face and went to get his clothes.
They went downstairs together. Oliver, Hermione, and Ron were waiting for them.
Hermione and Ron became really suspicious as Oliver asked Draco if everything
was okay. Draco assured him he was fine, but there were faint circles around
his eyes. Neville and Hermione fell back to whisper heatedly together and Harry
promised to explain things to Ron later. They ran into the twins halfway down.
They were cackling, so they most likely had been pranking someone. 
At breakfast there was an announcement. Each Head of House would be compiling a
list to see which students would be staying over the Yule break. There would be
a list posted on the common room bulletin board in each House and those staying
should place their name on it.
“We’ll be staying,” Draco announced, voice quiet but firm.
“We’ll ask,” Hermione offered, referring to her and Neville, but her tone of
voice made it clear it might not be possible. 
Ron frowned. Yule would be a perfect time for the thief to go after the stone.
Draco and Harry couldn’t defend it by themselves! “I’ll tell Mum I’m staying,
too.”
Percy paused, fork halfway to his mouth. 
Fred and George shared looks.“Yule at Hogwarts,” Fred exclaimed as if it were
some novel idea. “What a wonderful idea!” George concluded. He flung his arm
around Ron’s shoulders with an enormous grin. “Why don’t we all stay?” the
twins said together.
Percy nodded his agreement.
“Sounds fun,” Harry said casually, mask in place, and gave them all a thankful
smile. He leaned supportively against Draco’s shoulder. The more help he could
gather around the blond, the happier he’d be.
- love determination protective - 
Chapter end.
 
***** Seeking Help *****
A/N:Warning! Child Abuse, child molestation, slavery, sexual slavery, human
trafficking, drug use (mild?), non-con, shota, a lot of profanity
Seeking Help
Draco staggered over to the tub of hot water that Percy had prepared for him.
He felt numb, but at the same time like he would shatter if he moved too fast.
He couldn’t stop thinking about it. Someone had gotten inside him, changed him,
and he would never have known. The only consolation he had was that he was
somehow rejecting what had been done to him, but no matter how he fought, it
was too late. He couldn’t undo the violation. 
Draco’s legs collapsed and he sank to his knees. His head tilted back, his face
twisted in agony, and he screamed so loudly his veins corded on his neck.
Gasping, he bent forward, slamming his fists on the cold tile, pressing his
forehead hard against the ground. 
The surge of rage and fear passed and left him once more feeling numb and
vulnerable. He was exhausted. The simple act of bathing seemed beyond him. He
trembled as Harry’s love and worry emotions hummed through the bond… Harry’s
scar bleeding a thin trail of ruby… Harry’s small body heaving and shaking… the
way the darkness seemed be waiting to pull him under… Harry needed him. Draco
couldn’t fall apart. Not now. Voldemort would win the battle over Harry’s soul
if he broke now. 
Draco felt the panic well up again. The sick idea of someone getting inside his
head mixed with images of being raped and he hovered on the brink of a
flashback. His Occlumency kicked in, locking it away for later. 
“Fuck!” Draco screamed hoarsely. He stared blindly ahead, panting and furious.
“Get up, you bastard. Get up!” 
Beating his hands against the floor one last time, Draco forced himself to his
feet. His vision greyed. He wouldn’t make it. Not like this. It would take him
days to find his center again. He didn’t have that kind of time.
Staggering, forcing one foot ahead of the other, Draco abandoned the bathroom.
Arms wrapped around his thin torso, he forced himself down the cold, stone
hallway and up two flights of stairs. Like last time, the door wasn’t locked.
He stumbled across the dark room, snores and soft breathing filling the small
space. He pulled open the bed hangings of a specific bed and practically fell
onto two pairs of legs. He was shaking again, his teeth chattering loudly. His
feet were painful blocks of ice.
“Who’s it?” a sleepy voice called in the darkness before the soft glow of a
wand tip illuminated the space around them.
Draco was crying, tears streaking his pale face, eyes puffy and bloodshot,
tormented as he looked up at George. “Please…” he whispered. “I need…
something… please, I know you have potions… I just… I need to think straight…
just for a minute…”
George stared in horror at the little boy. He swished his bed curtains closed,
activating the silencing and privacy wards, and sat up. He immediately flung
the comforter around the boy’s shaking shoulders. “Shit, Draco, what happened?”
he demanded, short red hair mussed from sleep and wide brown eyes filled with
worry.
“George?” Fred sat up, woken by the movement and cold as the comforter was
removed. His expression creased with worry identical to his brother’s when he
registered Draco’s trembling frame at the foot of their bed.
“Please…” Draco begged, curling in on himself.
“Get Pomfrey,” George ordered his brother as he wrapped Draco in his arms.
“No!” With surprising force, Draco shoved George away from him. “No. No adults.
No fucking adults.” His grey eyes flashed up and pierced first Fred and then
George. “I just need something to settle my nerves. I have flashbacks. Of when
I was a fucking sex slave, okay? Just please help me. I’ll be fine. I’ll be
fine,” he repeated, crumbling into tears again. “Fuck…” he rasped, squeezing
his torso in an effort to hold himself together. He was falling apart, couldn’t
they fucking see that? Someone had fucked with his fucking mind and he couldn’t
remember any of it! He had no idea what had been done to him! Harry needed him
to get it together, goddamn it! Couldn’t they see he was fucking begging them
for help?
“Alright…” George lifted his hands, palms out, in a sign of peace. He shot his
brother a look. Fred looked back. George nodded. “I’ll get you something. Hold
on.”
Fred watched his brother leave and turned a concerned frown on the blond who
looked one minute away from a complete meltdown. Sex slave? That hadn’t been in
the papers, he thought, horrified. Bloody hell…
Draco took deep breaths. He thought about Harry and his promises, but it was
like trying to catch the end of a writhing snake. He wasn’t weak, damn it! He
was strong! He just had to goddamn breathe! He’d been through this before… held
down, beaten, raped, bled and tortured… He’d won; Raymond had fucking died like
the animal he was! But this time thinking about the past made him feel weak
instead of strong. He’d been small and scared and it had hurt so fucking much.
It had destroyed him in ways he still didn’t comprehend. He didn’t honestly
think he could survive that again. He really didn’t. 
George returned to see Draco rocking back and forth at the foot of the bed,
eyes staring blankly at nothing. Fred’s hands hovered in the air, hesitating on
touching the boy, clearly terrified of making things worse. He shot his twin a
desperate look.
“Draco…” George called unsurely. 
Dead grey eyes slowly shifted over to him.
George shivered. “I have something. It’s a lot more powerful than a Calming
Draught. It will make you feel floaty. Clear your mind. Lots of kids strung out
before the big exams take it.” He lifted a test tube full of a thick, pale blue
substance. “How much do you weigh, do you know?”
“Seventy-seven pounds,” Draco answered in a monotone with hollow edges. 
George looked to Fred to double check his math. 
Fred answered, echoing the number he’d come up with, “Thirty-five kilos, so…” 
George nodded. “About seven milliliters, then.” He cast a spell at the tube and
a good third of it vanished. He hadn’t expected the kid to be so light, but
come to think of it, Ron was tall for his age. That’s why he probably weighed
more. He handed the vial to Draco.
The boy stared at it blankly for a long second before he unwound his arm
stiffly from his torso and reached for it with a numb hand. The blue goop had
an iridescent shine to it. Draco didn’t think it would help. The feelings
inside him were too strong, howling and tearing him to shreds. He’d been stupid
to come. Stupid to think there was any hope. There was no such thing in this
ugly fucking world. 
He tipped the vial back. The thick potion slid out almost the consistency of
jello. It had no flavor, but it made his tongue and throat tingle. It settled
in his belly and expanded, warming up gradually until he blinked and realized
he was breathing easily. Most of his shaking slowly stopped except what was
caused by the cold. 
He blinked and two identical faces stared back at him worriedly. He gave a
tentative smile, testing to see if he still could. His lips curled upward
obediently, but the expression fell as he sighed and took stock. He didn’t feel
great or suddenly invincible, but the screaming inside had been silenced. He’d
been cut free. 
“How long will it last?” he asked quietly, cold sweat slowly drying on his
skin.
“Twenty-four hours give or take.” Fred waffled his hand back and forth. 
“It depends on each persons receptibility and the size of the dose,” George
continued. 
“We think we got it right, though,” Fred added. “So it should last you until
tonight.”
Draco nodded. He reached forward and caught George’s hand. “Thanks,” he said
quietly, sincerity shining in his eyes.
George nodded, but he wasn’t happy. “You need to talk to someone.” 
Fred agreed and asked carefully, “How often does this happen?”
“Not often,” Draco answered honestly. He looked away, unable to meet their
gaze. “I saw a Mind Healer. He taught me a spell that helps me manage it, but…”
He hesitated and then decided to trust the two. He met their eyes. “Someone
recently cast a spell on my mind and it messed me up a bit. Scrambled my
control.”
The twins gave him solemn looks as they said together, “You need to tell
Dumbledore.”
Draco nodded, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. He climbed from the bed. “I got
to get back. Harry will be worried.” Fred and George shared a look, but Draco
already knew what they were worried about and added, “Percy’s staying with us
tonight.”
The twins relaxed a little at that.
Draco thanked them again and slipped from the room on silent feet. It was
fucking freezing and he hurried back to the warm bath he had left behind. He
had a lot to think about while the artificial peace gave him room to breathe.
xXx
He made it through the next school day, but after their last class Draco felt
as if there was an hourglass in his head and the last of the sand was quickly
trickling through his fingers. He stood and took Harry by the hand. His friends
called after them, but Draco ignored them, pulling Harry into a shadowed
hallway. He made sure no one had followed him and slipped into an unused
classroom. At the back, there was a tapestry that hid a secret passage. 
“I’m going to talk to Dumbledore,” Draco said calmly, still towing Harry by his
hand. Suddenly he stopped, took a deep breath, and faced the other boy. “I took
something from the twins that’s kept me calm, but that’s going to wear off
soon. I’m going to need need you.”
Harry looked solemnly into Draco’s eyes - love determination protective. “I’ll
be strong, Draco,” he promised. He thrilled at the chance to take care of the
blond. He loved him so much.
Draco released Harry’s hand in order to cup his boy’s face in his palms. He
stepped forward and gently pressed their lips together. Sliding his tongue into
Harry’s mouth, he deepened the kiss. Harry kissed him back, coiling his arms
around Draco’s neck and filling Draco’s chest with a powerful surge of - love
devotion.
Draco pulled away, smiling a soft smile that only Harry ever saw. He carded his
hand through Harry’s dark, tangled hair. “Love you,” he whispered.
“Love you, Draco,” Harry echoed back, catching Draco’s hand in his.
Draco smiled for a moment longer, staring into Harry’s eyes, before turning and
continuing to the Headmaster’s Tower. They didn’t speak, they didn’t need to.
They ascended the moving stairs up to Dumbledore’s office door in perfect sync.
“My boys! What can I do for you?” Dumbledore asked cheerfully. “I was just
preparing to go down to dinner.”
He was standing by the stairs that lead to his personal apartment in brilliant
white and red heavy winter robes. Fawkes sat perched next to him, red and gold
feathers a blaze of glory. He trilled, the sound sweet and pure. Draco found
the song clearing his mind, slowing the sand trickling away in his head, and he
gave a polite smile of gratitude to the bird.
“We need to talk,” he said calmly. “Sit with me. This might take a few
minutes.”
Dumbledore looked genuinely curious. He led the boys across the room to his
desk and took the seat behind it, gesturing to the two chairs placed in front
of it with a benevolent hand. “What can I do for you? I hope there hasn’t been
any more trouble?” he asked in concern.
Draco took one of the seats, but Harry decided to stand at his side to be
closer. Harry's eyes dropped to where their fingers were linked together on the
armrest. Draco’s hands were a tiny bit bigger, his fingers pale and slender but
strong. They were warm, too. He shivered in pleasure as Draco’s thumb
unconsciously swiped across his palm. 
Draco eyed the old man before him. He was powerful and vastly more
knowledgeable, but Draco couldn’t fathom what the crazy bastard was thinking.
He was screwing everything up, making so many mistakes. At least, from Draco’s
perspective. 
Dumbledore stared back at the two children, his smile falling as the silence
stretched. The Malfoy heir stared at him as if he were a bug to be dissected
while Harry looked downward, standing stoically at the blond’s side, their
hands entwined.
“I’ve been attacked,” Draco finally voiced. “My mind has been violated and
altered.”
Dumbledore tensed, staring across the desk. “My dear boy, that is a serous
accusation…”
Draco cut him off. “Cut the crap, old man.” The words were disrespectful, but
his tone remained level and calm. “We both know that there is an agent in this
very school working for Voldemort, trying to get the Philosopher’s Stone. A
stone that could possibly bring Voldemort back to full power. A stone that you
could destroy but have not yet done so because you lack permission. And that
person attacked me, Dumbledore. Did something to my mind.”
Dumbledore leaned back, expression grave. “Permission is not to be so
carelessly disregarded, Mr. Malfoy. As it is, I am bound to protect the stone
and will do so until I am able to convince Nicholas to change his mind. It was
one of the costs of convincing my old friend to let me protect it. Had I not
made that promise, Voldemort would already have the stone, as you well know by
the break-in that happened the very night I was able to transport it to
safety.”
Draco considered that. The problem was that Dumbledore had too much ranking.
None of Dumbledore’s people would go against his order and destroy it. Even
though they probably understood that Dumbledore had been forced to make that
promise and it wasn’t actually the best strategic choice. That meant Draco and
the others would have to move forward as planned and Draco would have to do it
himself.
“And the attack on me? How is it that you were unaware of such a thing?” he
asked lowly. He thought about Percy, about Lily Potter. “How many students have
had their minds broken and you sat here with no clue?”
“Contrary to popular belief. I am not all powerful, my boy. No witch or wizard
is,” Dumbledore said sadly. “As it stands, most of the Mind Arts are of
surpassing difficulty and the punishment for committing such an act is quite
severe. Attacks of that nature are exceedingly rare.” 
Dumbledore sat there calmly, back straight, hands folded before him on the
desk, lecturing as if they were talking about some classroom theory. Draco’s
temper slowly grew. His hand tightened around Harry’s. Harry stood alert. Ready
to jump in at any moment, his attention riveted to the blond at his side. 
Dumbledore continued, oblivious. “This is a very good thing as wards,
unfortunately, cannot detect Mind Magic as it is not inherently Dark. The
Obliviate is the exception, of course, as it is a spell with the sole purpose
of destroying or erasing memories, but Legilimecy attacks, as well as the
Imperius Curse, their purpose is to change or alter not destroy.”
Draco stared unblinking at the supposedly powerful and wise wizard across from
him. Voice as cold as the arctic, he said, “You’re wrong. They do destroy.”
Dumbledore’s eyes widened before they softened. A compassionate expression
softened his features. “I’m sorry, my boy. That was callous of me. I do not
mean to say it is not a horrific act to alter another person’s mind.”
Dumbledore stared kindly over his glasses. “It pains me more than you can know
to learn that you have suffered so here at this school. I will do all in my
power to discover who is behind this horrible attack.”
Why did that sound like an empty promise? Draco took a deep breath, trying to
remain calm. After a moment, he was able to say, words clipped and sharp, “What
about me?”
Dumbledore steepled his fingers. “I believe you are aware of Occlumency.”
Draco nodded his head once.
“That is the only way to heal and reorganize your mind, I’m afraid. Of course,
there are potions that can help make you more receptive or induce a trance-like
state to help, but that’s all anyone can really do to help you.” Blue eyes
sparkled as Dumbledore gave Draco a confident smile. “I have faith in your
ability to recover, my boy. You have a very unique mind, after all.” 
Coldly, Draco growled. “Faith?” His eyes glittered with rage.
Dumbledore’s smile fell as he began to sense not all was well with the boy. He
tried to reassure the child. “The fact that you are rejecting whatever
alteration may have been made proves that your mind is not easily manipulated.
Most people do not realize they have been altered unless someone else points it
out to them. The trouble then becomes that that person is now who they are. To
alter them in an attempt to return them to their former self is in essence
committing the same crime, so not much progress or experimentation has been
done in that area.”
“That’s a load of crap,” Draco declared, eyes narrowed on the older wizard.
“Is it?” Dumbledore looked at the boy curiously. “If Harry could be altered,
say to be a regular child with no trauma, to be the boy he was meant to be
before he was subjected to abuse, would you allow it even knowing it would
change who he is at a fundamental level?”
Draco bared his teeth. “I’m not talking about rewriting a whole past. I’m
taking about correcting the damage created by someone attacking another
person’s mind!”
“So you are,” Dumbledore agreed calmly. “But you do understand my point as
well?”
Draco understood in the sense that he could comprehend the words coming out of
Dumbledore’s mouth, but it was still a load of bullshit. “In essence you are
saying that the person after being mind raped is a new person and so can’t be
mind raped a second time to fix the first mind rape.”
Dumbledore’s expression was completely shocked at the boy’s crude choice of
words. “Mr. Malfoy…”
“Well, to hell with that thinking, sir,” Draco drawled the title with heavy
sarcasm, grey eyes flashing silver. “I’m talking about healing something real.
You’re talking about philosophical crap that doesn’t fucking matter! If you
think for one moment someone doesn’t bare marks, damaging marks, after being
mentally attacked, you are very much mistaken. And to leave a person in that
state because of some theoretical shit about protecting their current
personality is cruel.” 
Fire burned through Draco’s veins. The potion the twins had given him was
running out. Vicious anger and helplessness and fear were churning beneath the
surface. Terrors held at bay by Occlumency flickered in the shadows of his
mind, ready to pounce. It made Draco dangerous. It took him back to the time
when he’d been savage and bloodthirsty. Dumbledore literally leaned back as the
boy’s expression became feral and wild, his voice thick with threat.
“I say put your theory to the test,” Draco hissed, leaning forward. “Why don’t
you hike those robes up and bend over this fucking desk. We could call up…” His
mouth twisted into a cruel smile. “…Snape. Harry and I will watch as he knocks
all your magic aside like it’s nothing and rapes your ass and mouth and
degrades you in the most brutal way. He’ll hurt you, truly hurt you, and you
won’t be able to stop it or talk your way out of it because you won’t fucking
matter beyond the fact that you can give Snape pleasure. He’ll make you scream
in agony and you’ll actually believe him when he calls you a slut and a filthy
whore because he’ll make you cum. You’ll cum even as he’s making you bleed.
Even that will be his. I dare you, Dumbledore. I dare you to know what it feels
like to have your body stolen from you and made into a thing, just a fucking
tool for another man’s pleasure.” 
Draco was panting now, eyes wild and dark and cruel. “Tell me after that if you
would turn down the chance of being healed afterward because it would ‘destroy
who you are now’.” His fingers stabbed at the desk with every word. “I’d like
to see you stop yourself from laughing in the asshole’s face who says that
because what the fuck do they know about being destroyed?”
Draco came to his feet, leaning in closer to the older wizard. He thrilled in
the horror in Dumbledore’s eyes, the tears streaking his face and wetting his
beard.“Are you picturing it, Dumbledore? Well, let me tell you it’s a thousand
times worse than what you can possibly imagine. Increase that thousand to a
million times worse when it’s your fucking mind that’s invaded, the very core
of who you are attacked!” Draco slammed his palms flat to the desk. The noise
making Dumbledore flinch. “Now tell me that coming up with a cure is
complicatedand shouldn’t be done,” his hissed in absolute disgust, eyes diamond
hard as he stared hatefully across at the Headmaster. 
The Headmaster’s lips parted a few times, as if he were trying to speak, but
nothing came out.
Draco gave a cold little smile and re-took his seat. Voice and face suddenly
masked into something resembling calm, he continued, “I have to say,
Dumbledore. I’m not really impressed. Harry and I are fucking essential if you
don’t want your pathetic little world to go up in flames and yet you’re doing a
really piss poor job of protecting us. We need time, Dumbledore. Time to grow
up. If you can’t get us that, then what fucking good are you?” He flicked a
gyrating metal circular thing that sat on Dumbledore’s desk and it toppled to
the floor with a clatter.
As Dumbledore’s continued to stare mutely, his attention shifted to Harry as
the boy lifted his head for the first time and entered the decidedly disturbing
conversation.
His hair no longer shielding his face, Harry looked surprisingly fierce. His
green eyes were hard with stone cold determination. He looked Dumbledore dead
in the eye and said coldly, “You better be able to help Draco.” He didn’t
bother with an ‘or else’, but it hung heavy in the air between them anyway.
“My boys… I never said I wouldn’t help you,” Dumbledore protested softly. He
stood shakily, his red and white robes swishing softly as he moved. He leaned
heavily on the desk, as if he would fall without that support, and sat in the
chair next to the boys. “What happened to you both is beyond anything any human
being should ever have to endure.” 
Tearfully, he reached for them. Harry shifted his body between the old man and
Draco so that Dumbledore grabbed his arm instead of Draco’s hand. The blond was
tensed as a drawn bow. Harry knew the signs of an impending flashback and was
in full-blown protector mode. 
Unaware of how on edge the children were, Dumbledore looked at the boys with
soulful eyes filled with empathy and compassion. Lips trembled in his white
beard, and when he spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. “I am so proud of
you both for coming and asking for help. I had no idea that you had been
attacked, Draco. Of course I will help you.” Dumbledore released Harry’s arm
and straightened in his chair. “I have books of incredible value that will
guide you on how to strengthen your Occlumency. I will also contact a Mind
Healer if you should think that would help, although I caution you that anyone,
even an ally, entering your mind right now could further damage it.” 
“If you summoned a healer, could you keep it from my parents?” Draco asked. He
leaned back in the chair, his posture relaxing now that they were talking about
concrete solutions. 
Dumbledore lifted his eyebrows in surprise.
Draco sneered. “Don’t pretend you don’t understand. If Narcissa and Lucius find
out my mind was attacked, they’ll take me out of Hogwarts. It won’t matter what
I have to say about it. And I’m not leaving until I know the stone is out of
Voldemort’s reach for good. It’s too important. Harry’s at stake.” Draco’s eyes
hardened once more. “But don’t think that doesn’t mean I won’t walk right out
of here with Harry if I think the danger has become too much. We’re awfully
close to that point now, Dumbledore.”
Dumbledore smiled, the twinkle coming back into his eyes. It was faint as he
was still reeling over Draco’s little speech, but it was there. “I understand,
my boy. I will support any decision you make.” He stood, hands grasping his
robes to free his feet to walk. He moved to the bookcase partially hidden by
the stairs that lead up to the Headmaster’s apartment. “I would indeed have to
inform your parents if I called a healer to the school, but I am certain the
books will help you more than a healer could. In the meantime, I will work
harder on Nicholas. He will be appalled that you have suffered such an attack
and I’ll double my efforts to discover the Dark agent at the school.” 
Dumbledore returned with three books. One was the size of a textbook, bound in
battered and torn black leather. The other two were smaller and thinner, the
size of journals. One looked almost new, the leather cover a deep blood red.
The last was brown and as worn as the larger one.  Harry released Draco’s hand
to accept the books with a soft thank you.
Draco stood and met Dumbledore’s eyes. “I’ll let you know if they help.” 
“Thank you, my boy. If you need me for anything at all, you are always welcome
here,” Dumbledore said gently, staring sadly over the rims of his half-moon
glasses. 
Draco gave a final nod and led the way to the door, Harry trailing after him. 
Draco wrapped his arms around his torso. They had been talking to Dumbledore
long enough that dinner had started, so fortunately the halls were empty and so
was the common room. He blinked as he realized he was already standing in the
center of their dorm room. He was only vaguely aware of Harry shutting the door
behind him and then he was somewhere else…
Draco glared resentfully at his Master’s back as he was made to crawl to the
showroom with a fucking cinderblock balanced on his back. It was heavy as shit
and seemed to get heavier with every passing second. Draco was cursing under
his breath and sweating profusely by the time he made it to the showroom. 
Master walked beside him, crop in hand. He cracked Draco hard across his
already welt-laden ass. The cinderblock trembled, almost falling off, as Draco
tensed and hissed at the agonizing sting. There were three men there. They
looked up from the kids they had chosen and laughed at Draco’s humiliation.
One of the men, fat and bald with brown eyes and greying beard, called out,“If
looks could kill, Raymond, I think you’d be dead!” The girl he’d chosen was
lying across his thighs on her back, her legs spread as he thrust thick fingers
into her folds. A particularly harsh jab made her whimper and burst into
helpless sobs. She was ignored.
“Don’t know if I’d appreciate my slave lookin’ at me like that,” the one in the
middle said darkly. He was practically drooling over the boy shivering on his
lap, barely sparing Draco or Raymond a glance.
The fucking block was really starting to hurt his back now, felt like it’d snap
his spine in two. Draco glared murderously up at his Master. The fuck did he
want from him?!
Master stared back, a sick smirk gracing his features. “Take it to the table.” 
Draco crawled across the room, panting and sweating, until he reached the low,
table-like stage that sat in the middle of the room. Raymond kicked the block
off of Draco’s bare back. Draco hissed as it took a fair bit of skin with it.
“Bring yours here, Mr. Wilson,” Raymond told one of the clients. 
The bald one got up. He sat her on the table. His right hand glistened from
when he’d had it pressed inside her. She was still crying.
Draco was trying to catch his breath, sitting on his butt, his knees bent
beside him in a frog-like position. His back throbbed; his arms burned. Raymond
grabbed him by his oily, blond hair and hefted him to his feet.
“Draco will do the honors,” he drawled. “We do it and it would take the damn
thing right off. Draco will do it just right. Won’t you, slut?”
Draco had no idea what the fucker wanted. His heart was slamming in his
ribcage, anxiety making his skin crawl and his head spin.
“You’re gonna make sure Mr. Wilson’s precious will never be able to get away
from him.”
Draco stared as the big man held the girl’s leg out with a punishing grip on
her thigh. Suddenly he knew what the bastards wanted him to do and felt sick to
his stomach.
“Aim for the ankle and shin,” Raymond said softly, bending down to speak
directly into Draco’s ear. “You mess this up, slut, I’ll bash your face in with
it.”
In his mind’s eye Draco saw that heavy block rushing at his face, could imagine
the crunch of bone, the way his face would break, the horrific pain and death
that would follow. Fuck! With that terrifying promise ringing in his ears,
Draco bent and hefted the heavy weapon. He wished he could reach the Master.
He’d gladly burst his head open! He’d beat him with it until his skull was
pulp! 
As if from a distance, Draco felt himself lift the cinderblock over his head.
His legs and arms shook with effort. The girl was screaming in terror now. Mr.
Wilson was watching with wide, excited eyes as he held her down. Draco focused
on the thin limb held out for him and brought the cinderblock down with all his
strength. He could feel the brutal crunch all the way up his arms. The girl
flung her head back and shrieked in agony.
“Good. Now the other one!” Mr. Wilson ordered. He straightened her other leg.
The girl was thrashing, hysterical, but he easily held her flat.
Draco could hardly breathe. Shit, he was tired and this was a lot of fucking
work. He looked to Raymond, wiping sweat from his face. 
“Do it,” his master ordered, eyes cold.
Draco grimaced and struggled to get the heavy cinderblock over his head again.
He gave a little yell as he brought it down. It took him off his feet this time
and he clung to the block to keep himself from falling. The girl made a sound
like a wounded animal before passing out. Both ankles were twisted in unnatural
positions, her shins looked slightly misshapen. Already some swelling began to
appear. Draco knew he should be horrified, but he felt kind of floaty. 
Raymond wrapped the girls feet, ankles, and shins in tight bandages. He gave a
brief lecture on the best way to make them heal pretty but still hinder her
mobility. “Cuddle her a lot. Be sweet and she’ll love you for breaking her
legs,” Raymond advised, laughing. 
Draco shuddered, desperately glad he was never cuddled by his Master. 
Finally the men left with their new property. Raymond stared down at him and
Draco felt the numbness fade. Could feel his heart begin to beat harder. Terror
brought tears to his eyes. He knew that look. Master was about to hurt him,
hurt him bad.
“Put your arm on the table.”
Draco stared up at the bastard and set his jaw. He didn’t move. He wasn’t going
to help Raymond hurt him. He wasn’t one of those fucking brainwashed kids.
Raymond bent down slowly, never breaking eye contact. He lifted Draco’s arm and
placed it on the table. Draco was shaking at this point.
“You’re nothing but my fucking toy, slut,” Master told him with brutal honesty.
“I can do whatever the fuck I want. Now if you move your fucking arm even an
inch, I swear to god…” He bent close. Close enough that Draco could feel his
hot breath against his face. “I’ll fucking rip it off completely.” He grabbed
Draco’s wrist and pulled hard. Draco’s chest came up hard against the side of
the table and his socket almost gave. He gave a choked cry of pain, free hand
scrabbling helplessly at the table. 
“I won’t! Fuck! I won’t fucking move!” Draco screamed, sobbing in both anger
and fear.
Raymond laughed and let go of Draco’s wrist. Draco kept his arm still. Even as
Raymond picked up the cinderblock. The echo of that girl’s legs breaking, the
feel of it, the sound of her screams… Draco began to hyperventilate between his
sobs. He was terrified, but if he moved he knew Raymond would do as he promised
and cripple him. He had to stay strong. He had to stay strong so he could kill
this fucker once and for all! His left hand came up to hold his right arm still
the bicep. He was shaking like a leaf. 
Raymond didn’t slam the cinderblock down with all his strength like Draco had.
Instead he brought it as high as he could and simply dropped it. It fell like a
hammer. Draco’s vision went black; pain shot up his arm as the two bones in his
forearm fractured. He went limp, wheezing and crying, pinned in place by the
heavy concrete cinderblock. 
He hardly even felt it when the Master grabbed him by the hair with one hand to
keep his head steady and began to jack off with the other, aiming his dick at
his agony-contorted face. He felt the bastard cum, though. Felt it hit his
tear-soaked face. Could taste it on his lips. Draco hated him so fucking much!
“I’ll kill you,” he promised hoarsely, tears and cum dripping down his flushed
cheeks.
Raymond laughed and kicked the block off his arm. Draco screamed. He kept
screaming as Raymond wrapped tight bandages around his arm to hold the bones
mostly in place.
xXx
Neville opened the door to their dorm and immediately froze. Draco stood close
to the center of the room facing the center bed that wasn’t usually used. Harry
was standing next to him, talking softly but not touching the other boy. Green
eyes glanced Neville’s way but then went back to looking at Draco.
Hesitantly, Neville shut the door and stepped over to his bed. It gave him a
better view of Draco’s face. His heart sank into his stomach. Draco was staring
blindly forward. He was crying and the expression on his face was a mask of
pain and anger. Looking down, Neville noticed Draco was clutching his right
forearm with his left hand. He wondered if Draco had hurt it.
Harry’s soft, gentle words could just barely be heard over the blond’s harsh
breathing. “You’re safe, Draco. You’re at Hogwarts. I’m here. I’m not going to
let anyone hurt you. It’s okay. Come back. You’re not there anymore. We’re safe
now…”
Neville tore his eyes away from the two and stared helplessly down at his bed.
He didn’t know what to do to help. This wasn’t anything like what had happened
last night. Draco wasn’t scary or violent. He looked devastated, and the way
Harry was speaking, so soft and full of love, brought tears to his eyes. Draco
was hurting! He was hurting bad! Neville’s fists clenched in helplessness.
“Neville,” Harry called. His voice still soft, his tone soothing. “Can you get
Draco and my pajamas and robe out for me. Lay them on the bed. Draco’s going to
be really tired when he comes out of this.”
Neville nodded quickly, surprised he was being allowed to help. “Yes, of
course,” he said softly, trying to match Harry’s tone.
He hurried to the armoire his friends shared. Harry talked him through where
their night clothes were kept and Neville set them out on the bed. He drew the
curtains closed on their bed except for on the right side where they could
climb in and pulled down the sheets. He went around the room, turning off the
lamps until only the one by his bed was lit. The whole time Harry kept talking
to Draco softly, encouraging him, but he never once touched him. 
Neville watched from the corner of his eyes as he changed and got ready for
bed. He was just crawling under the covers when Draco seemed to shudder with a
loud gasp and blink his eyes. Harry immediately enfolded him in a hug. At first
Draco allowed it, a confused sound rising up his throat, but then he pushed
Harry away, arms wrapped tightly around his torso.
“I’m fine,” he rasped, even as he shook violently. 
Neville wisely lay still, pretending to be asleep as the blond glanced in his
direction.
He peeked open his eyes to see Harry hovering by the blond’s side as they
changed for bed. Neville thought he saw dark spots on Harry’s chest and
stomach, but it must have been weird shadows. Then the boys were crawling into
their curtained bed. Neville could hear them softly murmuring to each other for
a few minutes and then there was silence. 
Neville finally reached over to put out his light. He lay on his back and
stared at the ceiling. He had no idea what his friends had been through, but he
was beginning to understand that it was something truly horrible. He felt
determination well up in his chest. He was going to help them. He didn’t care
what he had to do; he was going to help them!
Chapter end.
 
***** Calm Before the Storm *****
A/N: Opening scene is M for Mature.
Calm Before the Storm
There was something warm and wet sucking gently at his neck. Harry groaned, his
nipples hard and tingling with every soft suck. His eyes fluttered open. Soft
golden lamplight spilled in between the crack in the bed curtains, softly
illuminating the bed. Harry groaned again as Draco’s warm hands slid up the
back of his arms, lifting them and pressing them up beside his head. His hands
gently pinned his wrists. The soft open-mouthed kisses continued until Harry
practically melted into a puddle, his member growing stiff and hot, the tip
tingling. 
“Draco…” he moaned, eyes fluttering. The blond hummed against his throat,
making Harry squirm. 
Pulling away, Draco looked deep into Harry’s eyes. With a soft voice, he
whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Harry didn’t need to know what for. He already knew. Harry lifted his head
enough to kiss Draco’s sweet lips. “It’s okay, Draco. You didn’t hurt me bad.”
Draco’s lips quirked, his eyebrow cocked. “Because you fought me off, didn’t
you? You made sure I didn’t hurt you.”
Harry blushed red at the pride shining in Draco’s eyes. “I knew you wouldn’t
like it if you’d hurt me.”
Draco’s eyes went molten. He leaned down so that his mouth was just above
Harry’s. “You’re such a good boy,” he practically purred and kissed him hard,
his tongue diving in deep before backing off to lap at the inside of Harry’s
mouth.
Joy caught in Harry’s chest, bringing tears to his eyes. His whole body burned
with embarrassment at the praise even as he thrilled in it. He’d been good!
Harry moaned into Draco’s dominating kiss, sucking hungrily on the blond’s
tongue. A deep ache settled between his legs and Harry squirmed, rubbing his
thighs together. Draco kissed him until his head spun and his lungs burned.
When Draco finally pulled away, Harry was panting for air, helplessly pinned by
the hands holding his wrists firmly above his head. 
“Draco…” he begged softly, tears catching on his long, dark lashes.
Draco grinned, all teeth and pleasure. His cheeks were flushed with desire. “I
think you deserve a reward, Harry. For being such a good boy.”
Harry panted, his hips jerking slightly, his cock throbbing. “Please…”
“Keep your hands up there. No touching,” Draco purred. 
“Yes, Draco…” Harry groaned obediently even though all he wanted was to touch
Draco’s skin, to taste him and bring him pleasure.
Draco released the slender wrists and sat up. He drew back the covers, flinging
them off the boy. His silky, blond hair, mussed from sleep, fell around his
flushed face adorably, but his eyes were hungry and predatory. Harry was
breathing hard, his little dick flushed a deep pink and standing up cutely
against his lower stomach. 
Draco took the palm of his hand and pressed down on the stiff member. Harry
sucked in a breath, his hips pushing up for more. Licking his lips, Draco
slowly slid his hand up the small rod until it glided over the weeping tip and
landed on Harry’s soft, twitching stomach. Draco thrilled in the soft whimpers
Harry made as he slid his palm upward along that soft skin, catching Harry’s
shirt on his wrist and drawing it up. 
Bruise-spotted skin was slowly revealed. All the bites Draco had made only a
few nights prior still marking the boy’s torso. Deep-seated satisfaction made
him warm to the tips of his ears down to his toes. Draco pulled the shirt off
completely, letting it fall beside them on the bed. Harry was completely naked
now. The blush on his cheeks had traveled down his neck and flared out along
the top of his chest, turning it a gorgeous deep pink to match his cock. 
“Pull your legs up,” Draco whispered softly.
Harry stared into Draco’s eyes as he dropped his hands and gripped the back of
his thighs, drawing his knees up toward his chest and down until they almost
touched the bed underneath each armpit. Draco could just see the little hole
twitching and he grinned again before kissing Harry’s lips once. Then he leaned
over and licked a warm path up Harry’s thin, hard shaft. 
Harry’s whole body twitched, a soft cry falling from his swollen lips. For long
minutes of torturous pleasure, Draco lapped and sucked messily until Harry was
dripping wet between his legs with Draco’s spit. Tears streaked Harry’s face as
he hovered at the edge, almost falling over into that place of pure pleasure. 
After nearly fifteen minutes, Draco pulled away. Harry cried out a soft denial,
but Draco ignored him. Shifting closer so that he was pressed up against
Harry’s side, he rubbed his dick helplessly against the outside of Harry’s hip,
painfully hot and near his own climax. Sweating, heart thundering, Draco put
his face close to his boy’s and shushed Harry gently as he pressed two fingers
into Harry’s open, panting mouth. Harry gasped softly, tears glittering on his
lashes. Was Draco going to…?
Draco’s fingers pulled free of Harry’s sucking mouth with a wet pop and Draco
groaned at the sensation. Harry’s thighs quivered in anticipation. His heart
thundered in his aching chest, every bruise throbbing, on the edge of bursting.
Draco drank in Harry’s gorgeous expression as he firmly pressed his first two
fingers inside the boy’s body. 
Gasping, Harry tossed his head back, exposing his throat. The pressure sent
pleasure shooting up his spine in a way that was nearly incomprehensible. His
whole existence was wrapped up in the sensation of Draco’s fingers inside him.
Back arching, mouth gaping wide, he shuddered as Draco pressed in as deep as he
could before sliding his fingers back out and pressing in again. Harry moaned
from deep in his chest, his swollen cock glistening with clear fluid at the
tip. 
Draco wiggled his fingers in that tight, gripping heat, searching for that
place he knew was in there. He was entranced at the heat of Harry’s insides and
wished he could see where he touched. It felt soft, silken, but tight. Harry’s
body griped and sucked at him. The feeling was indescribable! 
Draco shivered, the wet sounds Harry made down there combined with the way
Harry’s hips were undulating made Draco thrust harder and faster against the
firm, warm skin of Harry’s hip. Draco couldn’t take it, the look of Harry’s
tear and sweat-damped face almost tipped him over the edge… He tucked his face
against Harry’s neck with a deep groan, so fucking close to losing his mind,
and this was supposed to have been for Harry… 
Draco bit and sucked at the leather collar, pulling it tight against Harry’s
throat. He pulled his fingers mostly out and added his ring finger to the first
two. Pressing forward, it was tighter. He had to push a little harder to get
the all the way in. Harry gave a long, low cry that went straight to Draco’s
cock. 
“Shit, Harry, god…” he gasped and spurt against Harry’s hip, bitting down hard
on the collar around Harry’s throat. 
Trembling, throbbing in euphoric contentment, Draco sat up. He lazily watched
as Harry cried and rocked on the three fingers still lazily thrusting inside
his body. Harry’s face was flushed red, his eyes blown wide. He whined and
begged softly, nearly breathless. Even so, Draco shushed him, eyes heavy-
lidded. 
Lazy and content, Draco bent forward to gently kiss the dark bite-mark on
Harry’s inner thigh and rested his sweat-damp forehead there, his hair tickling
the boy’s thigh. Draco opened his mouth and let spit dribble down on his
fingers and hand. He used it help him press more easily into Harry’s tight
heat. He began to thrust his hand in earnest, rocking the Harry’s body back and
forth. Harry gave a breathy moan, whole body trembling.
“I know it’s in there,” Draco murmured, spit still drizzling from his mouth. He
shivered in pleasure, thrilling in the way Harry’s hole began to glisten and
squelch softly, darkening as it turned red. Fuck, he loved it when Harry was
wet and messy. 
He watched, entranced, as the boy’s hole slowly grew less tight, gripped him
more softly. Draco pulled his fingers out until just the tips of his longest
were inside his boy. Harry begged incoherently, calling his name. Draco pushed
in, bringing his pinky in toward the others. Harry was spread wider than
before, the hole bleaching white. Harry went limp, whimpering, but Draco’s hand
slipped in until his thumb caught the rim… and Draco found it. Harry’s back
arched off the bed as he gave a shocked cry, taking Draco’s fingers halfway out
of his body. He lost his grip on his legs and they fell limply to the bed, his
right leg propped up as it rested over Draco’s shoulders.
Panting, eyes wide, Draco pressed his hand back in, easily finding that place
now that he knew where it was. Harry’s torso twisted, he was sobbing now, but
his little cock spurt clear fluid and he was pressing his hips down on Draco’s
fingers even harder. 
“Fuck,” Draco breathed in awe. He leaned up and over his boy, pressing Harry’s
leg up by his chest again. Grinning, breathing hard, Draco putt his mouth just
over Harry’s and stared into the boy’s wild eyes. He forced his fingers against
the little gland again and again until Harry’s was gasping and crying, left leg
splayed wide, his whole body shuddering in blissed out overload. 
Draco slowed his hand and stretched his fingers just to feel the tight stretch
inside. Harry was barely conscious, eyes half-lidded, glassy, and dazed. His
thighs and chest muscles spasmed as he breathed heavily, drool dripping down
his face from his half-opened mouth. Draco pulled him close, his wet fingers
sliding against Harry’s bare back. He kissed Harry’s face again and again,
whispering how much he loved him, how good he was. 
After a few minutes, Harry was able to clumsily move his arms around Draco,
returning the embrace. He was shaking now, little bursts of pleasure still
erupting under his skin. He tucked his face against Draco’s throat and
whimpered softly. Draco stroked his hair and rubbed his back, kissing his ear
and cheek and the corner of his damp lips. 
Harry slowly stilled in his arms. He pulled his head back to look up at the
blond. Voice thick and raspy, he breathed his name in awe, “Draco…” He didn’t
know how to tell him how good it felt, how good it still felt. He was flying,
floating, his body throbbing hotly between his legs and behind. “Draco…”
Draco laughed softly at the wide-eyed wonder that filled Harry’s face. “Shhh,
Harry. I know.” He grinned and kissed him again and again, little butterfly
kisses. Soon Harry was giggling as Draco tickled under his arms.
“Draco? Harry?” Neville’s sleepy voice called out of the dim darkness beyond
their curtains. “What time’s it?”
The sound canceling charms must have fallen. The kid didn’t sound shocked or
anything, so he must have been woken by their giggling. Draco laughed, imaging
Neville’s face if he’d woken up to hear the other, more interesting sounds
Harry had been making.
“Sorry,” Harry called, his eyes soft with - love adoration.
“It’s time to get up,” Draco called once his laughter was under control. It
didn’t feel too early, though. They probably would have needed to get up for
practice by now if Quidditch hadn’t been canceled until after Yule break. He
slipped out of bed and went to the armoire, hissing as his feet touched the
cold stone floor. “We’ve been slacking on our coursework and I have something I
need to look up.”
Harry climbed out of bed, his legs feeling a little like jelly, and accepted
the warm dressing robe Draco handed him. Once it was on, he went to fetch his
school books. 
Neville rolled over with a sigh. The sky outside the window only held a hint of
brightness, still mostly black. He grabbed his watch off the nightstand and saw
that it was only just after six. It wasn’t that early really and Draco was
right about his homework. With a sleepy, regretful yawn, he pushed his covers
back just as Harry plopped down on the bed next to him. The wild-haired brunet
gave Neville a grin. 
Neville, surprised, couldn’t help but smile back. Harry looked so happy. It
made the worry sitting heavy in his chest loosen a bit.
xXx
The next few days were spent in intense study and focus. They had to get caught
up on the classwork they had gotten behind on and they also had to prepare for
the mock exams that were going to be given on the last day of term. 
Draco wasn’t too worried about it. Their professors had informed them that the
exams would be scored as if they were real tests so they could see how the
final exams at the end of the year would work, but they would actually only be
worth the same points as an essay assignment. Practice or not, Harry, Neville,
and, of course, Hermione still wanted to do well on them. Additionally, Harry
continued to work on warding Draco’s school robe before bed. He didn’t seem to
be getting any better at it, taking a few days to ward a single robe. 
While Harry worked on that, Neville returned to mastering Potions. He was still
determined to get an O and earn Draco’s forgiveness for hurting him so
horribly. However, his pursuit of the grade was now a little different since
he’d gotten to know Draco better. For the first time in his life, Neville
actually believed he could get an O. He’d realized that Draco wouldn’t have set
him that task if he hadn’t already been certain Neville could accomplish it. It
gave Neville a strange confidence. A confidence that Harry and Hermione
bolstered at every opportunity. 
Like the boys, Hermione and Draco spent the week getting caught up on their
schoolwork, but their true focus was on their main projects. Hermione was
working on a way to know instantly if anyone ever entered the room with Fluffy.
She had a very short deadline and she was determined to meet it. Lady
Longbottom had denied their request to stay over the holiday, so Hermione
wanted the alarm set before she left. She knew Draco would do something crazy,
like trying twenty-four hour stakeouts or something, if she didn’t. 
Draco was also caught up in a project. Only Harry and Neville knew what it was,
although both the twins and Percy could guess. Draco was on a mission to fix
his mind. He poured obsessively over the books Dumbledore had given him on
Occlumency, his attention completely focused on mastering the techniques found
there. His notebook became a mess of notes as he studied.
Draco was having a lot of trouble actually. It was weird because he had a
feeling that this would have been easy for him before the attack. He could
remember being able to enter a trance while with Raymond. It was a skill honed
under torture out of fear and defiance, but it was still a skill he possessed. 
The books told him there were levels:
Hypnodial Trance (levels 1 through 10) 
Light Trance (levels 11 through 20) 
Medium Trance (levels 21 through 30) 
Deep Trance (levels 31 through 40) 
From their description, Draco could had been able to go into a Light Trance on
his own before, and in Faerie he had managed a Deep Trance, so he didn’t know
why it wasn’t working. He just couldn’t shut all of his consciousness down,
couldn’t sink deep inside himself. The books reassured him that this was
normal, that it took fucking years to master this shit, but knowing that didn’t
help him in the slightest.
x
Trouble entering trance = learning opportunity for improving ability to go
under. The unconscious is an aspect of awareness that records every experience,
even those you’re not consciously aware of. Unconscious has an intelligence of
its own; one of its major functions is to keep ‘self’ safe.
x
Safe!? How the hell was his unconscious keeping him safe by locking him out?
Draco was trying to fucking fix whatever had been done to him, goddamn it!
Draco tried not to let it get to him. He knew it wouldn’t help to get upset; in
fact, it would only make it even more difficult, so he held onto his patience
as best as he could and worked tirelessly on breaking through whatever block
had been set in place. He tried exercise after exercise, often forgoing sleep
to practice all night.
x
1. Start by rubbing your hands together to develop heat.
2. After you feel the heat, pull your hands apart until they’re about 4 inches
from one another.
3. Now move the hands very slightly in and out, so you can feel the natural
magnetic pull. It will feel like a magnet. Focus on those sensations until they
get stronger and stronger.
4. Play around with the energy until you feel that your hands want to come
together. At this point, just close your eyes, and deepen the trance from
there.
5. It doesn’t matter if your hands touch or if they’re 10 inches apart, what
you’re looking for here is a strong magnetic pull. If your hands aren’t
touching, focus on the space between them to intensify the experience.
x
Another method of entering the subconscious and manipulating his mindscape, he
learned, was through a Transformative Technique. For example, visualizing
becoming an animal.
x
Imagine how it feels and what its thoughts are. Allow yourself to merge with
the animal. After experiencing yourself as the animal, return to yourself and
then visualize a different image, and then repeat this exercise. Allow yourself
to go from image to image as you merge with each one. At some point, you may
find yourself entering your mental landscape mid-transformation.
x
Time passed quickly. Soon enough the First-years were sitting down to their
mock exams. Fortunately they would only be taking an exam for the four main
courses: Potions, Transfiguration, Herbology, and Charms. 
Harry had thought he was reasonably prepared, but his eyes widened when he saw
the questions. He had to read them several times before he really understood
what they were asking. Sweat dripped down the back of his neck and he chewed
his lip nervously. Several times his anxiety reached a dangerous peak and Draco
had to mentally order him to take a deep breath. 
They were given a break after two exams for a quick lunch. The First-years from
all the Houses were sat together so they couldn’t cheat by talking to the
upper-Years. They ate slowly, subdued and silent with gloom on their faces.
Neville looked pale as death and even Hermione looked frazzled. Ron simply
looked defeated. Draco tried to calm them as much as he could, but with two
more tests looming ahead of them, it was a lost cause.
After their final test, they trudged their way to the Great Hall for dinner.
Fred and George teased and poked at their younger brother, trying to cheer
everyone up, but the First-years remained quiet throughout the night, their
brains fried, and they all went to bed early.
The next morning Harry and Draco spent time with Hermione and Neville as their
friends packed for their return trip to London. Straight after breakfast, most
of the school made the walk down to Hogsmeade to catch the train. 
Hermione gave both Draco and Harry a tearful hug, ordering them to write her
every day and to be careful. The last was said with a pointed pat against the
metal coin Draco wore around his neck. She had conned Flitwick into making it
for her and then secretly attuned it to Fluffy’s door. It would heat up and
alert Draco every time someone entered the room.
Neville and Harry hugged each other with happy smiles, but the chubby boy
blushed brightly when Draco pulled him into a hug, gently running his hand over
his hair in the process. Ron and his brothers stood beside them, waving at
their own friends, but Draco only had eyes for the two Longbottoms as they
opened their compartment window to wave goodbye.
An arm suddenly draped itself over his shoulders and pulled him against a hard
chest. Draco looked up with an annoyed glare, but it only made Fred laugh.
“It’s Yule break! Let’s have some fun!” he declared.
George had an arm around Harry, grinning merrily. “Snowball fight!” he cried in
agreement and pulled Harry along with him back up to the school. “The east
courtyard has the perfect terrain!”
Draco allowed it. Harry’s bruises were faint shadows now, smears of pale green
and blue. A snowball wasn’t likely to hurt if it struck Harry on the chest this
time. Maybe playing for a couple hours would even help. He’d made no progress
in Occlumency and was beginning to get frustrated. A fight may just be what he
needed.
“You ready to show these two who they’re messing with?” Draco asked with a
taunting grin as he pulled Harry away from George. 
“Yes!” Harry agreed readily, green eyes sparkling behind his glasses.
“Then let’s do it!”
Surprising everyone, Harry and Draco cut in two different directions, trying to
pin the twins between them. Fred and George put their backs together. They
alternated between casting the spell that made perfect snowballs and the one
that shot the snowy missile with perfect accuracy, so that snowballs were both
always being made and thrown. 
Draco dove for cover, taking a snowball to the shoulder. Harry fell flat on his
belly and wormed his way under a courtyard bench when a ball suddenly flew with
great force and knocked George clean off his feet. Percy gave a smug smirk as
the twins gaped at him in surprise. 
Fred turned to shield, freeing Harry to quickly make a small pile of snowballs
that he mercilessly aimed at the back of George’s head. George turned to shield
and Draco was up and gone in a flash only to come face to face with a grinning
Ron… 
The courtyard was filled with the sound of challenges, the whump of snow making
contact with bodies, and childish laughter for two solid hours. They were all
soaked, snow in their hair, but Percy cast drying and warming charms on all of
them as they headed back inside the castle for a well-deserved lunch.
Draco took Harry by the hand, feeling lighter than he had in weeks. The Weasley
twins walked with Ron and Percy ahead of them, still laughing and carrying on.
Draco cast the brunet beside him a warm smile, Harry practically purring with -
happiness. His green eyes sparkled behind his glasses and his cheeks had a
beautiful rosy glow. Draco was about to suggest hot chocolate when a crack
sounded beneath his sneaker.
Draco stopped and lifted his foot. There was a dried branch, snapped from Draco
stepping on it. It was small, hardly bigger than his wand, and it looked as if
other feet had stepped on it before him. Unconsciously Draco’s hand tightened
around Harry’s. There was something ominous about the dark of the wood against
the white snow… the way the branch seemed shattered and broken beyond repair… 
“I’m going to meditate.” Draco’s voice was flat and distant. “Go to lunch with
the others. Stay with one of them at all times.”
“Yes, Draco,” Harry answered softly as Draco released his hand. 
The blond’s face was remote and cold once again, his attention caught up in the
battle inside his mind. It drove Harry crazy that he couldn’t help him. All he
could do was obey and let Draco focus on his task without distraction. Still,
he couldn’t help looking over his shoulder as he jogged to catch up with the
Weasleys. Draco remained standing on the path alone, staring down at the
ground.
Harry was subdued and quiet throughout lunch. The twins rolled their eyes and
disappeared to work on some mischief of their own. Percy and Ron shared a look
and sighed.
“Why don’t we go find him?” Ron suggested. “I’ll bring my board and we can play
chess while he’s zoning out.”
“I have some personal reading I’d like to get caught up on,” Percy agreed
easily.
Harry smiled, deeply touched. “Thank you.”
They found Draco back in the courtyard. He was sitting on a cold stone bench
with his legs crossed, his back straight, and his hands resting palm up on his
knees. His eyes were closed and his breathing was slow and even as if he were
sleeping. He had on his hat, scarf, and gloves, as well as his fur-lined winter
cloak, but Percy cast a warming charm on him just to be sure. In fact, he cast
Warming Charms on all of them. He took a seat against the castle wall, taking
shelter against the wind. Ron and Harry straddled the bench opposite Draco’s, a
chess board between them.
They stayed there for nearly three hours, Draco slowly beginning to show signs
of strain. His face paled and refused to flush pink no matter how many Warming
Charms Percy cast. His hands began to tremble, his back began to bow out of the
rigidly straight posture. Worse yet, bright red blood slowly spilled from his
nose. 
At the first sight of red, Harry crossed the distance and knelt on the ground
in front of the bench. He rested his forehead against Draco’s knee and let his
magic well up into the blond. It was draining and still the blood dripped down
Draco’s face, but Harry had to try. 
Draco came out of his meditation just before dinner. He gave a soft gasp and
sort of went limp, falling sideways. Percy was there to catch him, eyes dark
with worry. Draco looked exhausted, completely defeated as he yet again failed
to break through the mental block. Harry only looked slightly better. He was
stiff and clumsy as Ron helped the boy to his feet. 
Gasping, wiping sweat from his eyes, Draco leaned against Percy’s side as he
stiffly uncrossed his legs and slid heavy feet to the ground. The image of the
broken twig resurfaced in his mind and he bit back tears.
They didn’t speak as they made their way inside. Percy and Harry, of course,
knew what was at stake. Ron didn’t know what Draco was trying to do exactly,
but he could see that Draco was struggling with whatever it was and he
respected that. However, it was hard to remain stoic in the face of the Great
Hall’s glory. Without hundreds of rowdy, loud kids, the beauty of it all was
nearly overwhelming and broke through even Draco’s dark thoughts.
The ceiling had darkened to night, the tall, frost-covered windows equally
dark. Ever since the first snowfall, there was a constant illusion of soft,
beautiful snowflakes slowly falling regardless of the weather outside. Hundreds
of floating candles filled the large space with warm, soft light. Huge wreathes
with dark green pine needles and fat pinecones hung every few feet along the
boarder of the ceiling. Red and white flowers were woven among the branches of
each with soft bells jingling and tinkling, hanging from ribbons that were tied
in big bows at their bottoms or tops. 
Earlier that week, Hagrid had dragged in enormous sixteen foot trees that he’d
set in the four corners of the Great Hall. Each House had taken one as their
own and the students had added fairy lights and decorations a little everyday
until each one sparkled and shone. The trees seemed much bigger and more
glorious in the quiet of the room.
The Hufflepuff tree had ornaments on nearly every branch: snowmen, animals of
every kind, figures holding hands, bells, tiny wrapped gifts, and other things.
The fairy lights had been charmed every shade of yellow from citrine to the
palest ivory. A bright star sat on top and it literally made the air around it
glitter. Overall, the tree was warm and colorful and playful.
Gryffindor’s tree was nearly as bright. The red, orange, and yellow fairy
lights were charmed to flicker while in the branches small golden lions and
cats prowled. A few other figures and animals decorated the tips here and
there, but they were painted exclusively red to offset all the golden felines.
At the very top, a shining golden head of a lion had been placed and
occasionally it would let out a roar. 
Ravenclaw’s tree was simple and tasteful with an even spread of lights and
decorations. Unlike the Gryffindor tree, it had no movement or flickering
lights. Done in rich blues and pure whites, the tree had an elegant yet cold
feel to it. Regardless, it was beautiful. A white star sat on top shining
steadily and scattered throughout the dark green branches, icicles and
snowflakes reflected crystal light into the air.
Slytherin’s tree was much more rustic. Candles sat amid the branches, charmed
to ever-burn while the tree itself had been made flame-repellant. Soft, green
fairy lights nestled in the branches here and there. A few ornaments done in
silver were placed on a few branch tips. At the top, a glowing orb that shifted
through the phases of the moon in the night sky cast soft moonlight down around
it. Draco’s eyes lingered there and he knew Harry’s had as well. The tree
reminded them both strongly of their home with the Malfoys and of the four
Yules they had spent together there.
Draco silently ran his hand through the smaller boy’s messy hair and gently
nudged Harry with his hip to keep him moving. He wished it could be different
for them, that they could have gone home. The coin around his neck hung heavy.
It was only the four Weasley brothers, Harry, and Draco left at the Gryffindor
table and they had chosen to sit at the end of the table near the tree. Warm,
delicious food appeared on the serving plates in front of them and Draco gave
Harry a reassuring smile to get the smaller boy to eat.
“You okay, mate?” Ron asked carefully. Draco had dark circles under his eyes
and he looked worn thin and still too pale.
Draco gave a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. Just tired. Been
studying a lot.”
Ron snorted as he scooped a large helping of mashed potatoes onto his plate. “I
didn’t see you study at all. It’ll be a miracle if you pass the mock exams.
You’ve been too busy with whatever it is you’re trying to do.”
Draco ignored him and conversation moved away from the blond and his obvious
poor health. It wasn’t until they were all getting up to leave that Draco spoke
again. He reached out and caught Fred’s wrist. “Can I borrow some spare bit of
parchment later?” he asked, looking up into the redhead’s eyes.
Fred tapped his lip in thought. He glanced at George who shrugged. Fred turned
back with a grin. “Sure but same rules as last time.”
That meant Draco wasn’t allowed to take it out of the dorm or tell anyone about
it. He nodded and let Fred’s wrist go.
“I was thinking I’d bunk with you guys,” Ron said as they stepped past the
portrait of the Fat Lady. 
Draco gave a shrug. “I don’t mind as long as it doesn’t bother you if we go to
bed early.”
Ron looked a little disappointed, but he was determined to have his way. He had
a blast rooming with Dean and Seamus, but he was still a little disappointed he
hadn’t been chosen to stay with Draco and Harry. He was excited to finally get
to share a dorm with them.
Seeing this hope in Ron’s expression, Draco sighed. “You can take the middle
bed. It’s hardly been used since Harry sleeps with me most nights anyway.”
“Brilliant.” Ron gave a happy grin and ran up the stairs to gather the things
he’d need. 
Draco went up with the twins to grab the map. He was interested in knowing
exactly who had stayed over the break and he opened it as soon as George handed
it to him. His eyes immediately caught on Severus Snapestanding in a lab in the
dungeons. 
Damn! Draco’s expression went cold. He had no doubt at all that Snape was the
agent working for the Dark Lord within the school. He didn’t know what had
driven the man to side with the Dark, but like hell was he going to let that
greasy bastard win! 
Draco’s fingers wrapped tightly around the golden coin hanging from his neck,
determination sitting heavy in his stomach. “I’m going to beat this,” he
promised in a whisper, eyes glued to that hated name. “I’m gonna beat this and
destroy you.”
xXx
It was early afternoon and Lucius was deep in his study on Horcruxes when
movement caught his eye. “Narcissa?” Lucius stepped out of his office
curiously. He’d seen Narcissa walk past, dressed in a semi-formal gown and
midnight blue cloak. He held a book in his hand and impatiently pushed back his
long hair over his shoulder. Narcissa had turned to face him. Her eyes remote,
distant, making Lucius frown.
“I’m going to Hogwarts,” she informed him.
Draco and Harry should have returned the night before on the Hogwarts Express.
He still remembered the letter they had received two weeks prior announcing
their intention to remain at the school. It had been short on details, but the
overall message had been clear. 
“The boys said they needed to work on a project,” he reminded, cocking an
eyebrow. “It is clear Draco wants no interference.”
Narcissa seemed unmoved. “I am going to Hogwarts and spending the Solstice with
my sons.”
Lucius sighed. The book in his hand shut with a snap. “You mean to make it
public, then? That we practice the Old Ways? That we and the boys are Pagan?”
Her hands clenched. She knew it was unwise; there was still a strong prejudice
against Paganism. However, the nearly four months of not seeing the boys
weighed heavily on her heart. So much time lost because Draco had been stolen
from her, she couldn’t bare to let time she could spend with her child slip
away. The truth was she was Pagan, and she couldn’t celebrate without her
children. Was she being irrational? Weak?
Lucius took her silence as determination to go, not the uncertainty that it
was. He gave a small nod. “Very well. Let me change. I will accompany you.”
Narcissa felt herself relax. If Lucius was willing to go, then he must not
think it too damaging. Excitement curled in her core. She would see her boys
soon. 
They flooed into the Headmaster’s office with the pass Lucius had due to being
a Member of the Board. It only took a few minutes before Headmaster Dumbledore
arrived, no doubt alerted by a ward to their arrival. Lucius had braced himself
to push past any argument or refusal from the old wizard, but Dumbledore’s eyes
twinkled brightly at seeing them.
“Lucius, Narcissa,” he said with jovial cheer and offered his aged hands to
Narcissa. Narcissa took them and allowed Dumbledore to place a kiss on her
knuckles. “Welcome to Hogwarts. I take it you would like to spend some time
with the boys?”
Lucius was deeply suspicious, but he chose not to ask questions. At least not
until after they got what they wanted and saw the children. “We would.”
Dumbledore nodded. He folded Narcissa’s hand into the crook of his elbow to
give her escort. “Very well,” he said with a smile. “They have just sat down to
supper. Would you like to join them? Have you eaten?”
Narcissa gave a cool smile. “That would be lovely. Thank you.”
Lucius trailed slightly behind Narcissa on her other side. The castle was just
as he remembered it at this time of year. Cool and quiet with a the feeling of
magic thick in the air. It always seemed the castle resonated more deeply on
Holy Days. 
The hallways were quiet, most of the children having gone home. The Great Hall
doors were already opened, warm light spilling through and into the foyer. The
huge House trees stood in the four corners. A handful of children sat in front
of each. The staff table was missing half it’s number as well, although he saw
that all four Heads of House were in attendance.
They were guided toward the end of the Gryffindor table. Harry spotted them
first, his face lighting up with a delighted smile that set Lucius’s heart at
ease. The child stood, accepting Narcissa’s hands. Narcissa bent to kiss his
cheeks and accept his kiss in return. Draco stood more slowly. 
Lucius was hyper-aware of Dumbledore’s presence and that of the four Weasley
children. The sight made his lip curl. He’d thought he’d resigned himself to
his son occupying Gryffindor, but seeing the company he kept made him feel
disgusted. His son could do so much better. In fact, he was so displeased that
he didn’t even care that Draco was shooting him a very dark look.
“I hope we aren’t intruding,” Narcissa was saying to both boys, although she
only held Harry’s attention at the moment. “Since you’ve decided to stay over
the break, we thought one visit wouldn’t be amiss.”
“Please, sit and enjoy yourselves. It is the season to spend with family,”
Dumbledore encouraged. 
Lucius and Draco shot him identical looks of suspicion, which made the old
wizard’s smile widen.
Lucius sat carefully. The detested Weasley children gave him cold looks and
glares. Lucius returned their glares for a brief moment before he decided to
ignore their existence completely, instead shifting his attention back to the
only children who mattered. His own.
Harry was telling Narcissa about their experiences at the school. Most of it
they knew from the fairly frequent letters, but it was nice to hear the
recounting from the child’s own lips. Draco remained mostly silent. Lucius
studied him carefully. 
The boy looked paler than he should. Dark circles sat under his eyes. He also
picked at his food, not really eating as he normally would. Lucius began to
worry. Draco was his Heir. The curse placed on their family made it crucial
that Draco do well and thrive. Lucius was not impressed with his condition and
was determined to get to the bottom of it before they departed.
“Would you like to see the common room?” Harry asked politely, smiling up at
Narcissa.
Narcissa returned his warm smile. “I’d love to.”
Draco and Lucius walked side-by-side, tension between them. The Weasleys
trailed after sporting mutinous looks, except for the one in glasses. Lucius
noted that his face was carefully blank. Fortunately, the hoard of redheads
disappeared up the stairs to the dorms, leaving the common room to them.
Lucius stared around at the garish and worn common room. The fat, plush red
couches, the awkward placement of tables scattered around the edges, the single
book case, the busy tapestries all sporting knights or warriors, the enormous
lion portrait above the fireplace… Lucius could even hear the cold wind howl
outside the tower windows… and was the room swaying slightly?  It was loud and
overwhelming, but the boys seemed quite used to it. 
Harry led Narcissa over to the fireplace. It was large enough that Lucius could
easily walk inside it should he wish, which made him think it could be a
flooing fireplace. He stored that information away for later. 
“Happy Solstice,” Harry said and looked concerned. “We don’t have a log.”
Narcissa knelt gracefully on the worn, red rug in front of the fire, her
midnight blue skirt pooling around her. She opened the pouch at her side and
removed a wooden box about five inches long and three inches tall and much too
big and heavy to have fit in the pouch. 
Lucius waved his wand, dousing the fire and banishing the firewood burning
there. A cleaning charm removed all the ashes and embers. Narcissa opened the
wooden box. Draco and Harry leaned closer to look inside and saw the ashes and
embers of last year’s Yule log.
“A year has come and gone. We have overcome challenges and received blessings
in equal measure. As we stand watch on this Longest Night, we remember the past
and give it its due.” 
Narcissa’s voice, soft and resonant, was filled with sincerity and faith as she
tossed the ashes and embers inside the fireplace. Then she reached again into
her pouch. A shrunken log from this year’s ever-green tree sat on her palm.
Lucius used his wand, casting a simple spell that returned it to it’s true size
and then another that gently levitated it into place on the hearth.
“We take with us into this Night the knowledge of how to overcome hardship and
the strength we have discovered inside ourselves,” Narcissa finished. She met
her son’s eyes. “I believe by this point in your education you should be able
to produce a fire spell.”
Draco met her stare evenly and took his wand from the holster on his right
forearm into his left hand. “Incendio,” he cast, flicking the wand forward, the
tip moving in a curved triangle shape, almost like that of a flame. 
A jet of warm, yellow-orange flame shot from the wand and ignited the log.
Narcissa graced Draco with a proud smile. Lucius stepped closer to the boys,
placing a sturdy hand on each of their shoulders. Harry looked up, expression
relaxed and easy, but Draco remained stiff and unmoved. 
“Tell us what has you staying in the castle,” Lucius coaxed, voice low and
quiet. A voice made for secrets. 
Harry looked to Draco, waiting for his decision.
“We have all night,” Narcissa pointed out. Pagans celebrated the Winter
Solstice in many ways, but the one thing they all had in common was that they
sat watch until the sun rose. It was considered bad luck and disrespectful to
sleep during the longest night.
Draco stared into the fire. The firelight softening his face and making his
eyes glisten. His hair took on a soft yellow quality instead of pure white and
fell around his face, down past his angular chin. He looked so young, the dark
circles and tension erased in the forgiving light. Harry stood just slightly
shorter than Draco. His hair thick and messy, jet black even in the firelight.
It was hard to make out his eyes behind his glasses, but his full lips were
naturally a dark pink and his cheeks were slightly round with a soft blush from
the heat. 
They were beautiful children. It made Lucius simultaneously proud and
protective. From the powerful love shining on Narcissa’s face, she felt the
same. Lucius’s hands tightened on the boys’ shoulders and he once again made a
silent vow that he would do whatever was necessary to ensure that these boys
would survive… Whatever was necessary.  
“I’m studying Occlumency under Dumbledore,” Draco finally voiced, eyes still
staring into the flames. “I can’t leave until I make more progress.” Suddenly
he looked up, piercing Lucius with his gaze. “I think I’m about to make a
breakthrough, though.”
Lucius felt a chill of worry, but he knew it would only push Draco away if he
were to voice it. Fortunately Narcissa wasn’t as hindered.
“Occlumency…” Narcissa spoke softly, capturing the boys’ attention. “That is a
very ambitious goal. It is a Dark and complex art, taking years if not decades
to master.” She reached forward to gently trace a fingertip over the curve of
Harry’s cheek. “I know you will not do anything too risky and lose yourself.
You have something very important to do.”
Draco’s eyes narrowed into a glare and he slapped Narcissa’s hand away. “I know
what’s at stake.”
Harry leaned into Draco’s side, shifting Lucius’s hand off of his shoulder.
“I’ll help Draco,” he offered. “But Draco can do this. He’s strong.”
Narcissa nodded, showing no reaction to Draco’s strike on her hand. “Then I
will not worry.” She offered a small smile to their defiant son. “However,
should you need assistance, your father and I know something of this art. I
trust you will not let your pride stop you from being successful when you have
Harry to think of.”
“Pride?” Draco’s voice dropped, became dangerous and hissing. “You think I’m in
danger of letting pride be my downfall? I think I’ve proven pride will never be
my problem.” He lowered his chin, his bangs falling in front of his face, eyes
glittering dangerously as he stared his mother down. 
“Do you see me lashing out when stupid kids are calling me maggot and Death
Eater in the halls? Or tripping me until my knees and palms bleed. Or ruining
my supplies. Or sabotaging my work. Or making my legs dance under me until I
collapse as dozens of kids laugh in my face. No… I walk away, take secret
paths, let Harry work on warding me from their petty pranks. Because I know
that’s what they are. Petty.”
Harry ducked his head as the list was told. Failure burned in his throat. It
was his job to protect and help Draco, and it had taken him way too long to
stop what was happening. 
Draco pushed on, ignoring Harry’s - guilt. He’d deal with it later. “They’re
just sadistic assholes following a racist leader and I know that if I lash out,
I’ll actually make them believe what they’re saying. That I’m evil filth. And
in a few years when I need wands to protect us, maybe even die for us, there
will be no one there. So I walk away and do nothing because pride would only
get in my way.”
He reached forward and drew a line down Narcissa’s cheek with his finger, the
same way she had touched Harry, but instead of the pad of his fingertip, he
used his nail to gently caress her skin, the threat subtle. “You still don’t
truly trust in my decisions. You still think you know better. And because of my
age, you have the power to make me do things against my will. Like leaving the
school because it’s dangerous. So until you really decide to respect me and
accept that I will make the final decisions, you are just another thing that’s
in my way. Because I will do whatever it takes to win. Sacrificing my pride is
the least of it.” Draco’s hand dropped and he turned away from her shocked
expression. 
Narcissa’s blue eyes had gone wide, her pale lips slightly parted. Lucius moved
to her side. He reached down and grabbed her arm, pulling her up to her feet.
She leaned heavily against his chest and suddenly Lucius was reminded of all
the years she had spent draining herself dry, dropping to under a hundred
pounds, in her determined pursuit of their son.
“You have continuously pushed at us as if we were the enemy when we are your
greatest allies,” he said coldly, eyes gone silver as he stared down at his
son. “We can do no more than we’ve done to prove ourselves and yet you insist
we are some threat. It is the height of stupidity to not make use of our
knowledge and power. You speak of needing wands in the future and yet your
disdain the two strongest at your disposal. Why? Because you don’t like us?
Because you can’t trust us? You sound like a spoiled child! If you continue to
behave as such, you will make your childish fear of authority a reality and we
will come to doubt that you can make good decisions!”
“Lucius…” Narcissa breathed, horrified. 
“I don’t fear authority, Lucius,” Draco hissed. His expression was etched with
rage, hands clenched at his sides. Harry had taken a step back to give him
room. He refused to look at Narcissa or Lucius, eyes instead loyally pinned to
the blond. “I refuse it! I will answer to no one!”
As they watched Draco storm from the common room, Narcissa gave Lucius a
disdainful glare. “What was the point of that?”
“It had to be said,” Lucius defended, angry. “He’s acting irrational.”
“It could have been said a different way,” she countered, arms crossing over
her chest. “We are standing in the Gryffindor common room, but you do not have
to act like one. Tact and subtlety was in order. Our son is delving into the
Dark Arts. There is no telling how it has effected him. It has likely made him
paranoid and irrational as you so bluntly pointed out.”
“Where are you going?” he demanded as she moved toward the common room door.
She stopped and looked over her shoulder, expression cold. “I’m going to speak
to Dumbledore and see what he knows about our son’s studies and his condition.
Why don’t you speak to Snape. I find it interesting that Draco said he was
studying under Dumbledore when Snape is the Master Occlumens.”
Lucius waited for her to leave before making his own way back into the castle.
Did she not see that sometimes the direct approach was the only one worth
taking with Draco? The boy was determined and clever and strong, but he could
be so damn blind and stubborn. Perhaps Gryffindor was the correct House for his
son, after all. Scowling at that despicable thought, Lucius made his way deeper
into the dungeons.
And as they separated, pursuing different goals, the Longest Night had only
just begun and their strength had been reduced by half.
Chapter end.
A/N: Sorry for the updating delay. A lot is going on right now. As for the
story, things are going to happen at a pretty fast pace in the next few
chapters.
***** The Longest Night *****
A/N:Sorry this is so late. Partly it’s because the chapter grew so long. I hope
you guys like it. Can’t wait to hear what you think!
The Longest Night
Bellatrix stepped out of her warded apartment and made her way toward Lucius’s
office. A sweet giggle escaped her, her bare feet creating a soft pattering
sound as she danced her way through the silent house. Her beloved sister had
still not figured out that Bellatrix could move about the manor as she pleased.
She had a talent for wards. She could talk to them in a way others were unable
to. It was a simple matter to convince them that she was an ally and not an
enemy. The wards only activated if she had the intention of escaping anyway and
she wouldn’t leave the manor for the world. 
It took but a whisper to spell the elves to sleep and once more she owned the
halls of Malfoy Manor just as she had that night ten years ago. At last she
arrived at her destination, her eyes sparkling with soul deep joy. She slid
graceful, slender fingers along the grain of Lord Malfoy’s office door.
Pressing her cheek to the wood, she crooned, whispering to the wards.
It wasn’t every night that she was able to enter here. Lucius haunted the
office more often than not, but she had known that tonight the way would be
clear. Her Lord was favored by Fate, and Bellatrix had known the universe would
create opportunities for His glorious return. 
Slowly, the door swung open with a soft creak just as the last colors of sunset
bled from the sky. A deep grey twilight settled over the manor, fading to night
as she stepped across the plush rugs toward Lucius’s desk. It took the work of
only a few minutes to open the side drawer and retrieve her Beloved’s diary. 
Her lips and hands trembled with excitement as she opened the book to the
middle. Pressing a quill tip to the page, she sensually wrote out the message:
I am yours, my Lord.
The pages pulsed with power and words written in an elegant script answered her
with: Come to me. 
Blinding light engulfed her and she fell willingly into the book’s depths… 
                                       …
Draco ran as fast as he could through the hallways. He ducked into secret
passages and sprinted past portraits, taking the shortest route. He ran until
his legs and lungs burned, until he was panting so hard he could hardly
breathe. 
He burst outside into an overgrown courtyard, rage and frustration pounding
like a second heart in his chest. His feet crunched and slid on the snow as he
spun around wildly. Harry skidded through the open door, panting, eyes wide.
Draco practically leapt forward and grabbed the smaller boy by the collar of
his robe. Harry stumbled, but he didn’t resist as Draco shoved him roughly
against the castle wall. 
“What… do you… think?” he demanded, gasping from his sprint. “Am I … being
childish?”
Harry met Draco’s eyes, - trust worry - a subtle hum between them. “They might
help… if you told them everything… but they might also… get in the way,” he
answered softly, panting from the run. “You understand… the situation best.”
Draco gave a scream of rage and lifted a balled up fist. Harry didn’t even
flinch as Draco swung with all his might. A meaty thud sounded as the blond’s
knuckles brutally impacted against the stone wall inches from Harry’s head.
Draco swung again and again, screaming with each desperate blow until warm
blood splattered Harry’s cheek. 
Heart pounding, Harry sank to his knees, slipping from Draco’s loosened grasp.
He lifted his hands, tears glittering in his eyes. “Please…” he begged, pain in
his voice. “Please, Draco… Don’t… Let me help you… Please…”
Draco stood there, staring blindly down at the boy who practically sung with -
love - for him. Blood dripped from his split knuckles, staining the snow red in
small, delicate drops. Pain, hot and sharp, spiked up his arm. He’d broken
bones.
“Please… Draco…” Harry begged softly, hands still reaching upward.
Draco turned away, denying him. He needed the pain; it was clearing his head.
“Not yet,” he growled and purposefully clenched his broken hand. A gasp escaped
his lips at the intense pain, tears filling his eyes. He stared up at the dark
sky, the stars cold and remote above him. 
Behind him, Harry pulled his beseeching hands back and wrapped his arms loosely
around his chest. His butt rested on his heels as his head lowered slightly in
submission. “Yes, Draco.”
At the sound of Harry’s calm acceptance, Draco turned back around to face him.
It had been exactly what he’d needed to finally quench the last of his anger.
Harry didn’t push what he wanted. He didn’t demand or argue or judge. He
accepted Draco, trusted him wholeheartedly. Draco’s expression softened and his
lips parted to speak when magic, Dark and deep, spiraled up around him.
What neither of them realized was that Draco’s blood had made a circle around
him. Blood spilt on a Solstice night was extremely powerful, especially the
blood of a Hemopath like Draco. It created a temporary gateway where things
could cross over. The celtic knot appeared on the hollow of Draco’s throat, the
mark acting as a key to other realms. It began to glow with the cold, blue-
white of moonlight and Hogwarts disappeared… 
                                       …
Draco stood in a forest with wide, black-barked trees. The stars between the
tangled branches were fat, the size of a baby’s fist. The moon was a silver
scythe hanging above his head. Deep snow sat heavy on the ground. Before Draco
could really understand what had happened, arms - thin and unnaturally cold -
wrapped around him. Sharp talons pierced through the skin on his back, drawing
more hot liquid to the surface. Snarling, Draco tried to break free, but he was
held fast.
“Greetings, Little Hunter,” a voice said, deep and vast and all around him.
“Looks like you’ve become prey.” 
The last word was spoken with a bottomless hunger that could be felt deep
inside Draco's bones, triggering instincts primal and powerful. Teeth bared in
defiance, he swung his head back as hard as he could…
                                       …
Harry stared up at the Creature before him. It was human-shaped but wasn’t male
or female. Long white hair, a vast expanse of stars in Its black eyes, pale
white skin, and naked, It gracefully crouched before the kneeling Harry.
Advanced age had touched Its features, but yet the Being didn’t seem weak in
the slightest. A slow grin revealed pointed, blood-stained teeth.
“The Cold Dark has come,” It said, a whisper as loud as a scream. “Do you still
Dance?”
Harry was caught in the Being’s eternal eyes. He didn’t understand, but deep
down he knew the answer and spoke true. “For Draco.”
“Then Dance for him.” 
Harry’s hands were clasped with surprising gentleness and he was lifted to his
feet. The God’s nails were long and sharp even as Its hands were gnarled with
age. 
“Know that should you fall, so to he shall fall. For he walks the Dark and will
need a path Home. Winter has come. Endure… or die…” 
It wasn’t a threat. It was simple Truth. Winter was ruthless and brutal, but if
you had the strength to endure, It could also be beautiful. Harry’s hands were
released. The Being stepped back. It was there but not there. It couldn’t be
seen, but It could be felt in everything… In the cold and quiet of the snow,
the distant glitter of the stars, the deep darkness between them… 
Endure or die…
There was another option beyond endurance or death. Tilting his head back,
Harry slowly lifted his hands to the infinite night-sky. A deep breath in and
he opened himself to all that he was, all that was Draco, and all that they
were together. He could feel it, the deep three-fold bond between them. It was
magic in the purest sense, humming and powerful and alive. And it was Draco’s
way home; he was Draco’s way home. 
Harry closed his eyes, hardly able to contain the feeling of love and wonder
and magic that existed even in the Dark of Winter, and began to dance a dance
of worship. He was Pagan and he felt honored to be able to dance both for Draco
and for an Old God…
                                       …
Narcissa stepped into the Headmaster’s office, expression cold and remote. Her
hands were folded in front of her demurely. Her dress with midnight blue skirt
and long-sleeved bodice with a wide, black velvet band tight around her waist
was half covered by the black cloak she still wore. The hood was down,
revealing the single braid that wrapped around the top of her head, leaving her
long neck bare and exposed. Her eyes were a blue only a few shades lighter than
her dress. 
She wore no make-up. Her lips were as pale as her cheeks. Her eyelashes and
thin, sharp eyebrows only a little darker than her golden-blonde hair. She
stood with regal bearing, shoulders back and pointed chin slightly tilted up.
She was a medium-tall woman, eight inches taller than five feet, and very thin.
The years of working powerful rituals to search for her son had taken a toll,
giving her face and expression a harder edge than most. She was beautiful, but
more than that she was a force to be reckoned with. 
Dumbledore stood from behind his desk and bowed his head in acknowledgment of
her strength and power. He had consciously donned a white robe with purple and
silver highlights. Pale blue eyes twinkling with happiness, beard as white as
snow, they seemed complete opposites and yet there was a strong similarity
between them, as if they were two sides to the same coin.
Narcissa stepped gracefully forward until she stood in the center of the room
facing the ancient wizard. She did not continue on to the desk or the seats
sitting across from it. She was not a supplicant in search of his counsel. “You
know why I am here, Albus,” she said softly and waited.
Dumbledore smiled and stepped around his desk to face her on even ground. “You
have concerns regarding your son.”
“Sons,” she corrected. She felt her magic deepen and wrap around her. It was
the Solstice. The calendar had entered the darker half on Mabon, but it was
yule when those who resonated to the Dark were at their peak. Her magic felt
that change and stretched. “Why have you chosen to keep my sons in a hostile
environment when they are here simply for an education?”
Dumbledore tilted his head before he answered. “It is for the purpose of
education that I have chosen to allow the children to solve their own problems.
They have not sought my aid or the aid of any teacher in this matter.”
Narcissa let a long second pass to think about his answer. “The Art of
Occlumency… It is classified as a Dark Art. I admit my surprise upon hearing
you are my son’s tutor, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.”
“It is considered so but not illegal,” Dumbledore answered easily. “I have
mastered many Arts in my time as a wizard.” 
Narcissa held his gaze, her tone growing sharp. “Draco shows signs of strain
and ill health. I would not say he has been well cared for. Would you?”
Dumbledore sighed softly, his hand lifting to stroke his beard. “I speak the
truth, Narcissa Malfoy nee Black. My sole wish is for young Draco and young
Harry to grow strong and capable. I would not endanger their lives for anything
in this world.” His eyes grew solemn as he tilted his chin down to look over
his glasses at the angry mother. “However, I believe you know your two boys are
destined for great things. There is only so much I can do to buffer the weight
of that destiny. Fate has set about to prepare them for their future.”
“Let me make something clear.” Narcissa lifted a single finger and pointed it
upward. “You are incapable of truly understanding my sons. Any manipulation on
your part is destined to go very wrong. My advice to you, Albus, is that you
forget this notion that you understand their destiny. The best thing you can do
is let things play out as they will without your interference.” Her finger
slashed down to point directly at his heart. “That means treating them as you
would any other student under your supervision. For you are simply a player
with a part to play and not one of the Weavers of Fate.”
Dumbledore felt her words deeply. A blush stained his cheeks, denials built up
on his tongue, but she slashed her hand downward and out, stalling his words.
“You have been trying to manipulate things, Albus. I see the signs of it and my
sons suffer.” Narcissa’s eyes glittered. The room seemed to darken and grow
colder. “This is the last warning I will bestow upon you. Your place is to act
as Headmaster to my boys. Nothing more and definitely nothing less. Fulfill
your duty, sir, or my sons will be removed from this school.”
Dumbledore stood silent as she stared him down. He felt the chill in the air as
she turned, her skirt swirling about her feet as she strode gracefully from his
office. As soon as she was gone, Dumbledore let his expression fall into
something more grave and serious. Fawkes gave a quiet yet beautiful trill and
he stepped closer to his familiar, stroking the warm, soft feathers. 
“All is well, Fawkes,” he murmured. “She is just a mother trying to protect her
children.” He sighed sadly and looked into the dark, liquid eyes of the
phoenix. “Unfortunately, they are not simply her children but belong to the
World.”
Dumbledore had experienced wars and losses that Narcissa, young as she was,
could not begin to comprehend. There may be some truth in her words, but she
was wrong on one thing. He was not a simple Player. His role was greater than
that, especially for those boys. Fate had placed him in position to guide and
prepare them. That was his destiny, and he would see to it that they had the
skills and tools they needed to successfully carry out theirs.
Frowning, Dumbledore was pulled from his musings as something stirred at the
edge of his senses. Curious, he crossed the room to the tower window. The glass
slowly began to frost right before his eyes and the gentle snow began to fall
harder. He turned and strode quickly toward his door.
Narcissa frowned. She lifted her bare hands up to her face. They trembled
slightly, the tips almost numb with cold. Narcissa took a deep breath and blew
out. Her breath fogged in front of her face for a brief moment before
disappearing. Listening, she felt something resonate deep inside her core. 
“Draco, Harry,” she whispered, eyes wide. She took a step forward, but stopped
when she heard the stairs begin to move behind her. She chose to wait for the
Headmaster to join her.
Dumbledore stepped off the stairs, his expression grim. “A storm has come upon
us, Lady Malfoy. Soon it will be a blizzard.”
“My sons?” she demanded. 
Dumbledore shook his head. “I will summon the staff. We will search for them.”
Narcissa’s hands clenched, her eyes promising terrible things should they not
be found…
                                       …
There was no answer when Lucius knocked upon Severus’s door. Frustrated, Lucius
summoned a House Elf and demanded the Potions Master’s location. The elf
squeaked out an answer before popping away. Lucius turned, sharply rapping his
cane on the stone floor. It didn’t take him long, up a staircase and down a
corridor, before he stepped out into a small courtyard. 
Severus stood in the center at a small table manipulating ingredients next to a
cauldron hanging from a wooden beam set over a rough fire. He wore a black
winter cloak and robes, his hands protected in thin leather gloves from both
the cold and his ingredients. His hood was pulled up, leaving only his chin,
lips, and a part of his nose revealed. He moved with practiced grace, a true
artist at his craft.
“What is it you want, Lucius?” Severus spoke, low and calm, never once pausing
in his work.
Lucius hesitated, his temper gone in the face of this mystery. He had known, of
course, that Severus was a Master, but he’d never seen him in action. It
changed his perception of the wizard, made him realize there were hidden depths
to his personality. “You know why I’ve come,” he answered finally, his tone a
reflection of the other man’s, patient.
“Your son has fallen into deep waters,” Severus replied. He turned and
scattered something with a precise flick of his wrist into the cauldron that
sizzled, creating a violet glow that illuminated the surface for a brief
moment. “I do not know if he will sink or swim.”
Lucius attention snapped away from the potion. His glove creaked softly as it
tightened around his cane, his eyes flashed and his tone sharpened. “Are you a
mere observer? Do you deny your responsibility to assist your student?”
Severus stirred the potion in perfect circles with one hand, his other folded
and refolded a substance like dough except it was grey and streaked with black.
“I do what I can, Lucius. I will always do what I can. At this moment, I am
unable to directly assist the boys. Draco will not let me close.”
The temperature took a sudden drop. Lucius frowned, looking upward. The soft
snow that had been falling, collecting on his hair and shoulders, grew thicker.
Goosebumps lifted along his arms and the back of the neck, an almost electric
hum resonating through his core. Lucius’s eyes dropped back to Severus as the
wind picked up. Already the snow was falling hard enough that it was harder to
see. 
Severus’s hood was blown off, his straight black hair whipping around his face.
“I cannot stop once begun,” he called, dark eyes locking on Lucius. “Cast a
ward against the wind. Draco will need this potion.”
Lucius stepped forward, crossing the distance between the Potions Master and
himself. He took up position on the other side of the small work table, his
wand sliding from the cane with a fluid movement. The tip of the pure black
wand dipped and swayed, making sharp points and precise turns. Slowly, a pale
glow appeared in the snow around them. The shape of runes and magic symbols
could just be seen through the glow. The wind was reduced to a soft breeze, the
snow falling slowly, while outside the circle the wind and snow continued to
increase until it began to howl and gust, a blizzard born.
“This storm has been Called,” Severus murmured, still working over the potion. 
“The boys are likely involved,” Lucius agreed, voice grim.
A quirk of an eyebrow only partially seen through a concealing curtain of
Severus’s lanky hair.
Lucius gave a sharp smile. “My wife will attend to them.” Grey eyes taking on a
silver glitter, he inclined his head to the bubbling cauldron. “Do not fear,
Severus. I will guard the circle. As long as you understand that half of this
potion will be mine.”
Severus’s expression gave way to a frown, but he wasn’t in any position to
argue…
                                       …
Bellatrix found herself in a massive chamber made with dark quartz and deep
green stone that was lit with high, white-burning torches. Huge columns carved
with snakes and sinuous figures supported an arched ceiling high above her
head. On either side were canals filled with a dark, mysterious water that
whispered and burbled as it flowed past, echoing softly in the massive space.
Before her was a thirty-foot statue of one of the world’s most powerful wizards
in history. Between the feet of the magnificent robed figure, a teenager sat in
a golden throne with a deep green cushion. The back of the throne rose high
above the teen’s head, a sculpted disc of dozens of snakes.
Dressed in the school robes of Hogwarts, the Slytherin crest on his breast, the
teenager nonetheless possessed an aura that spoke of power far surpassing his
age. His dark gaze was piercing and mysterious, the curl of his full lips
amused as she slowly sank to her knees in wonder. Thick dark brown hair, smooth
with a soft wave, fell elegantly over his forehead. His cheek bones and chin
were sharp and angular, his completion smooth perfection. He was extremely
handsome. 
The teen stood gracefully, his eyes never once leaving her kneeling form. As he
approached, each step seemed to ring throughout the chamber. Bellatrix held her
breath, staring up into his beautiful face from where she knelt.
“Hello, Bellatrix.” The teen’s voice caressed her name, making her gasp softly.
A strong hand lifted her chin as he crouched. “We meet at last.”
“My Lord,” she breathed, deeply humbled. Her whole body trembled at his touch.
“Are you mine, Miss Bellatrix Black?” he asked gently, staring into her eyes. 
“Yes, my Lord!” she cried eagerly. She offered her arm, the Dark Mark tattooed
onto her skin jet black and pulsing.
Tom Riddle stroked the short, dark curls that adorned her head, his expression
sweet and concerned. “I will ask you to give me your life and magic,” he told
her. “Are you still mine?”
“Oh, yes, my Lord!” she answered again, devotion shining from her eyes even as
she panted with excitement.
Tom kissed her softly on the lips, a promise of what was to come. “Then I
intend to grant you the honor of being my vessel, sweet Bella.” 
He reached forward and brushed his hands along her shoulders. Under his touch,
her robe and dress disintegrated, leaving her naked to his eyes. Her breasts
were small and yet perfectly shaped and full, her small nipples pink and
already pebbled. She shivered as he trailed his fingertips down the center of
her chest and over her thin stomach. His hand stopped directly between her hips
underneath her bellybutton. She gasped helplessly, soft whimpers escaping her. 
Tom’s eyes traveled to her sex. She was hairless, as were her legs and arms.
Tom knew that the procedure had been painful and carried out before she reached
puberty by her Pureblooded mother. Bella had been shaped to be the perfect
wife, her sole purpose to please her husband and tend to the children while
they were young. Better yet, just above the lips of her sex was a single rune,
the color of a birthmark. His pupils dilated as he saw it. It named her a
virgin, a Pureblood virgin from a Sacred Line, and would fade once she was
penetrated.
“Do I please you, my Lord?” Bella asked, voice trembling with nerves. Tears
graced her cheeks, afraid he would reject her and yet she never once looked
away from his face. 
“You are a perfect vessel,” Tom praised her in a soft whisper. He stood,
offering his hand. 
She took it with a cry of relief and came to her feet, joy radiating from her
soul. Tom graced her with another smile as he led her forward. Bella followed
him, feeling light as a feather. Obediently she sat on the throne when he
pressed her forward and down. 
Tom’s strong hands skimmed her thighs before hooking under her knees. Looking
into her eyes, he lifted her slender legs and pulled them open, draping them
over the throne’s arms. It opened her to his sight, her folds delicate and pink
and beginning to glisten. He reached down to spread her vaginal lips that still
bore the mark of the virgin. Tom felt his heart beat increase, heat rising from
his body. She was his to despoil. 
Silent and intent, dark hair falling across his forehead, he caressed her
breasts and stroked her thighs. He spoke to her, slow and sensual of his
pleasure in her offering, of his plans to rule the Wizarding world, to restore
the Old Ways. Bella stared enraptured, caught up in his voice and promises. She
was dripping by this point, slick and hot, her skin flushed with desire. 
Tom stood before her, powerful, calm. He cut into his thumb and whispered a
spell to ensure it did not clot. Then he leaned over her, his mouth taking in
her needy gasps as he drew pattens onto her lower stomach in his blood.
“My Lord!” Bella arched with a cry, overcome with idea that her Lord’s blood
was coating her skin.
Tom moved easily with her body. A controlled burst of wandless magic and the
throne’s arms lifted and curled over the woman’s legs right above the knee,
holding them still. “Arms up, sweet Bella.”
Bella obeyed immediately with no hesitation. Two snakes from the headpiece of
the throne came to liquid life and captured her wrists, securing them above
her.
Tom straightened. He stared down at her body, marked with blood, held open and
captive, a willing sacrifice. He was panting now, too, and slowly he undid his
robe. Bella whimpered, her dark lashes settling on his cheeks as if she
couldn’t stand the glorious sight of him. 
Tom unbuttoned his shirt and unclasped his pants, where his thickening member
lifted and became hard against his lower stomach. Fluttering her lashes as she
cracked her eyes open, she could see the finely etched muscles of his chest and
abs. It was clear he had not ignored his body as he pursued magic. He was
strong.
“I was once born on this day, the Solstice of Winter,” he intoned, voice deep
and resonate as he took in the woman’s shuddering body underneath him. Her dark
blue eyes were open again. Her mouth parted in awe as she gazed up at him.
“This was the day of my birth and it will be the start of my rebirth. I call
the Destroyer to be present in this ritual of Death and Rebirth. Winter, I call
upon you to empower this circle. The Ruler of Death, Cold, and Darkness, I call
upon you.”
Tom’s magic curled about him. Bella hissed as stinging pleasure washed over her
in waves. Her breasts rose and fell with every gasping breath she took. Her
hips unconsciously angled upward, offering herself to his shockingly large and
thick cock. Tom’s dark eyes were like daggers, piercing her straight through. 
“Witness Bellatrix Solana Black offer her life! She will be unmade so that I,
Tom Marvolo Riddle, may be remade. Just as Winter gives way to Spring, from
Death comes Life. I call upon the Destroyer, Ruler of Death, Cold, and
Darkness! Bear witness to this act! I call upon Winter to Bless and Accept her
sacrifice!”
Cold, burning cold, filled the chamber. Frost coated the pillars and the smooth
quartz floor at Tom’s feet. The blood runes painted on Bella’s skin turned to
ice. She shivered and shook, her skin taking on a grayish quality, but instead
of crying out in fear she laughed. 
“My Lord, Winter has come!”
Untouched by the cold, Tom gripped the base of his cock and stepped closer so
that his spongy head caressed her soft, bare folds. The power in the room
resonated like the unending ring of a bell. Tom braced himself with a hand flat
next to her head. She stared up at him, eyes bright with need and fear. 
“This will hurt,” he told her, a gentle promise. 
Bella swallowed. “Yes, my Lord.”
He kissed her lips, soft and chaste, then slammed forward with a single violent
thrust that held the power of his entire body. She screamed as she was slammed
backward and up, the hold on her legs and wrists was painful, but she hardly
noticed, her whole body feeling torn in two.
Tom gave a low groan. She was tight, very tight, and her expression as it
twisted in pain was exquisite. It made his cock throb and thicken even more. He
tore free from the hot grip of her body and slammed inside again just to see
tears gather in her eyes and spill down her pale cheeks. Again and again, he
slammed into her. The more he thrust, the wetter she became as blood slicked
her passage. 
Bella sobbed as searing hot pain stabbed deep inside her body. Her wrists and
thighs were already deeply bruised, but even as her Lord tore and thrust,
tearing her apart from the inside out, she moaned, the sound deep and primal.
She canted her hips, welcoming the pain and the sensation of something massive
moving inside of her. Through her tears, she saw his expression, open-mouthed
with pleasure, eyes burning with lust, and she was happy. 
Tom began to thrust faster, shallower, punching deep again and again. He was
sweating now, panting as he practically beat his hips against hers. This life
was his,given to him freely, and he would take it. He gripped her short curls
in one hand and crashed his mouth to hers. Thrusting his tongue inside, he
drank in her sobs and cries for long minutes before biting down on her lips. 
The cold became brutal, the touch of Winter pervading the chamber. Bella’s lips
were lined in blue, her eyelashes crystalizing with ice. Her breasts bounced as
he thrust harder. She moaned and dripped blood, staring with perfect love and
devotion up at his face, even as she cried from the agony of being taken so
violently.
Tom was close, close to something he had never felt before. His blood pounded
in his veins, a burning hot river racing with the force of a typhoon. It filled
his head with a curtain of red lust. Fuck was it amazing. He wanted to crawl
inside her body and bathe in her boiling hot blood. She gripped him so fucking
tight; it was so bloody hot and slick. He dove again and again into that place
of toe-curling pleasure. He’d never felt so good! Pleasure drowned out thought,
frying his brain, and Tom wrapped his hands around her throat and squeezed
until Bella could make no sound whatsoever. Her expression looked tortured, her
eyes big, mouth gaping helplessly as she was strangled.
They came together, Tom releasing a cry of triumph, Bella going rigid. Magic
speared through them both, an ice javelin the size of a fist impaling them
straight through their core. The agony was nearly unbearable. Everything
erupted into a scrambled mess of searing electricity, black and red and white…
                                       …
Draco lay panting in the snow. His sides and back were bleeding where the
creature’s talons had cut into him; his arms were still pinned to his sides.
Whatever, whoever, had him, Draco could feel their cold breath, slow and even. 
He’d struggled madly, fury blinding him, but as the minutes passed without the
creature holding him budging an inch. He would have fought forever if he hadn’t
heard the faint beat of a drum and the chime of bells. It distracted him.
Panting, nearing exhaustion, Draco had collapsed to his knees and fell onto his
side before going still. The music seemed to cut through the blind panic and
rage, calmed his racing heart until its beat matched that of the drum. The cold
patience of the Hold fell over him; he’d wait and watch for the moment
something changed.
At first, nothing was in front of him except the silence of a dark forest and
then a naked Being was crouched there, head tilted as it stared down at Draco.
White hair tangled, face cragged with age, It was nonetheless inhuman with
black pools for eyes and sharp piranha teeth. Draco met the Creature’s dark,
endless eyes fearlessly. He tested the hold on his arms and realized it was
different. Draco pushed as hard as he could and the rough skin of tree bark bit
into his arms. With a grunt, Draco used as much force as he could and the
branches holding him cracked. He was free.
Draco sat up, scrapped and bleeding from the shallow punctures on his sides and
back and from breaking free of the wooden branches holding him. He didn’t turn
to check his wounds, however. Instead, he kept his eyes pinned to the Being who
still crouched in front of him with a wicked smile.
“Ah, little Hunter,” It said, voice somehow filling every available space
without shouting. “There you are.”
Draco tilted his own head. He was thinking again. Clarity descended on his mind
for the first time in what felt like ages. There was no panic, no emotional
havoc, no obsession. He took a deep breath, pulling in the frigid air. The snow
was cold and wet under him, the forest empty and still. From a far distance, he
could still hear the steadily beating drum and the jingle of bells. 
The God of Cold and Darkness stood and looked in the direction of the faint
music. A smile lit Its face. “He dances for you. It looks like you found your
way Home.” Black eyes looked down at him. “But before you leave… You must prove
your worth and pass My test.”
Draco slowly pushed up and got to his feet. He was so much smaller than the
God, but that didn’t bother him. “What test?”
The Being grinned and this time blood stained Its sharp teeth. “A Test of Self.
Are you truly a Hunter or are you Prey? Are you worthy of the Dancer or are you
destined to die so that others can live?”
Blond hair falling around his face, Draco’s eyes glinted silver. “The Dancer is
mine,” he answered, voice hard and unyielding, a predator’s warning growl.
The Being made no response. It turned and began to walk away. Its steps were as
graceful and soft as falling snowflakes as It glided into the forest,
disappearing between the darkness of two trees.
Draco took another deep breath and listened to the faint drums and bells for a
moment longer. He couldn't feel Harry at all, the bond likely silenced by the
God, but the music reassured him that Harry was close and well. 
Stealing himself, Draco stepped forward to face his challenge…
                                       …
Professor Sprout had discovered the disturbance in the courtyard and sent a
Patronus messenger to inform them. Now, Dumbledore and Narcissa stood in the
open doorway, and even with Dumbledore’s magical shield, they had to hold tight
to the doorframe or risk being thrown back into the castle. 
The wind was a howling, vicious thing, a stationary tornado of snow and ice.
Dumbledore’s beard and long hair were flung this way and that while the skin of
their hands and faces went numb. Dumbledore’s robes also whipped around his
legs while Narcissa’s skirt did the same. They hardly noticed, their attention
riveted on the center of the tornado. Illuminated by what looked like moonlight
only every ten seconds or so was a small figure. Bending, turning, leg lifting
up and out, hands weaving a graceful pattern, the figure danced to some music
that could not be heard over the scream of the wind.
“That’s Harry!” Narcissa yelled, one hand holding tight to the doorframe, the
other keeping her hair in place.
Dumbledore barely heard her voice even though she stood directly next to him.
He gave her his full attention and yelled back, “What?” 
Narcissa yelled again, “Harry! That’s Harry!”
Dumbledore frowned and looked into he blizzard. He cast some diagnostic magic,
but his spells were rebuffed no matter how delicate or powerful. He took
Narcissa by the arm and stepped back inside. The door was left open, so the
wind was still incredible, but the walls buffered it just enough they could
understand each other at a shout.
“This is powerful magic at work,” Dumbledore told her loudly.
Narcissa closed her eyes. She could sense the cold, the Dark, but there was
something else there. Something that wasn’t quite human. “It’s the fae! They
still have a connection to the boys.”
“I fear interfering will do more harm than good at this point,” Dumbledore
concluded, holding tight to his hair and beard so it didn’t lash Narcissa in
the face.
“I will stand watch,” Narcissa answered, agreeing. 
Dumbledore nodded. “I will join you.”
He conjured armchairs for them to sit in and put up a strong barrier that
softened the scream and fury of the wind just enough that it wasn’t torturous
to sit just inside the doorway. He also ordered lap throws to help keep them
warm from the cold. The freezing bite of winter would not be denied no matter
what spell or ward Dumbledore applied.
“Minerva,” Dumbledore called cheerfully, eyes sparkling once more. His deputy
had been hanging back to keep out of the worst of the wind. “Will you return to
the tower and inform their friends that the boys have been found and the adults
will handle things from here?”
Minerva gave Narcissa a hard look, but she nodded. “Let me know the minute
anything changes.”
“Of course, of course,” Dumbledore agreed. He gave Narcissa a warm smile.
“Cocoa, my dear?”
Narcissa ignored him, her eyes pinned to the doorway and the blizzard beyond it
that was holding her children hostage. She had to trust they would come out of
whatever trial they faced. All she could do was pray to the Old Ones that her
faith would not be in vain…
                                       …
The forest gave way to a jungle. As soon as the humidity pressed against
Draco’s skin, he felt himself relax only for a frown to crease his expression a
moment later. It was quiet and still. As if some great predator had passed by,
silencing the jungle around it. A sense of violation swept through Draco’s core
and he wrapped his arms around his chest protectively. 
He could see it now. There were cuts scored into the trees and snapped
branches. The brush had been trampled. Vines and the elephant ears had been
severed completely in places, leaving them hanging limp and withered. The
plants and leaves seemed battered as if by a great storm.
A now familiar sense of paranoia washed over Draco, his blood pressure
increased and his thoughts began to cloud as anger and agitation began to take
hold. Now that he’d felt the difference between this and the cool logic he
usually thought with, he realized just how deeply affected he’d become by the
Dark Lord’s attack. 
The cold breath of winter shivered down his back. It gave him a split second to
think clearly again. Draco reached for the cold, determined to keep his
thoughts clear. In a way, it was as familiar and comforting as the warm
humidity found in his own mind. For you see, Harry’s mind had originally been a
place of  bleak, cold emptiness. 
Hurricane force winds and a flat arctic plane that had been utterly empty had
been created by a brutal reality where Harry had hated himself as much as
everyone had hated him. Fortunately, the bond to Draco had softened that arctic
tundra. Harry’s submission and Draco’s possessive love had transformed the
landscape. Now if one were to look into Harry’s mind, they’d find rolling,
snowy hills, softly falling snowflakes, blue skies and gentle breezes. It was
still cold but not bitterly so. It was a place of simplicity and breathtaking
beauty.
With his thoughts focused solely on Harry, Draco managed to push away the
trauma and paranoia that lay thick and heavy in his own mind, and slowly he
felt himself transform. When Draco blinked his eyes clear, he was lower to the
ground, his vision was in black and white. He realized he had taken the animal-
form he’d found with the fairies. 
Four-footed with claws on each paw, he was vaguely feline except he had pitch-
black scales instead of fur and a more canine-shaped head with a mussel filled
with sharp teeth to match. He also had a tail much like a greyhound - thin and
whip-like. His eyes, however, were slitted like a snake’s. Also like a snake,
he had two front fangs that were hollow and connected to a sac that produced a
very deadly venom. When he was in kill-mode, the venom would pool in his cheeks
and drip from his mouth, a cloudy yellow that smoked when it came in contact
with anything organic. 
He was a conglomeration of predators, making him sleek, beautiful, and
extremely deadly. More importantly, Draco was able to keep his thoughts clear,
immune in this form to the paranoia and anger that pervaded his mind like an
invisible, poisonous fog. It chilled him to the bone to realize how corrupt his
mind had become, his every decision and reaction for the last two months had
become flawed. 
He’d attacked Harry, pushed away the Malfoys, and had revealed too much to
Dumbledore. He’d secluded himself and Harry, not making enough use of the
resources around him and definitely making no progress in his goal of building
connections with the other students. He’d become obsessed with Occlumency with
no real results. His grades had suffered; Harry had suffered. All because he
had put himself in reach of a wizard he had known to be connected to Voldemort,
because he had thought he could handle it. 
Growling, Draco acknowledged that the difference in their powers had been made
perfectly clear. The damage he had taken had been more massive than he had even
realized. Without clear vision, his perspective had become as egocentric as
most people’s. Draco wasn’t most people. His almost inhuman practicality and
awareness made his mind different from the average person’s and gave him the
ability to master nearly any person or situation. With his unique perspective
warped, Draco had made so many stupid mistakes and he refused to let it
continue. Whatever it took, he would free himself from this curse. 
Stalking past the battered jungle, he pushed past his jungle defense and into
his true mind. The truth was his mind wasn’t a tangled, near-impassable jungle
full of predators and death anymore. The bond had changed him as much as it had
changed Harry. His true mind was a rainforest with narrow but walkable paths
and beautiful vegetation. 
Sunlight filtered down through the thick canopy above, creating an eternal
twilight underneath. There were purple and white orchids hanging in the trees.
Passion fruit flowers and yellow jasmine were in bloom giving the air a sweet
smell. Vivid red and orange bromeliads grew along the forest floor. Red monkey
bush vines hung from tree branches.
There were still predators stalking the deep shadows - large snakes, black
panthers, and spiders a little bigger than a man’s fist. They moved in the
shadows and up in the tree branches. It was dangerous here in Draco’s mind.
Death, violence, and pain would never be foreign to him, but it wasn’t the
bloodbath the jungle had presented. 
Draco walked through the paths as familiar to him as if he’d been there a
thousand times. It was too still, too silent. Something was very wrong…
                                       …
Harry felt cold arms wrap around him as he spun, and he was pulled against the
Winter God’s chest. He looked up into that ancient, aged face trustingly. The
God smiled and led him a few steps in a waltz. Harry moved easily with the
Being, offering no resistance. The bells that had appeared on his ankles chimed
softly as they moved, and Harry slowly realized his clothes had changed. 
He now wore a white lace skirt lined in white silk that fell to the snow. A
white, leather corset was synched tight around his middle, making his waist
smaller than his hips, and bound his ribs tight. It came to stop an inch below
his nipples. You could see them - pale and pink - below the lace that covered
his chest. It went all the way up his neck and gently framed his jaw. It also
encased his arms in tight sleeves that fell gracefully over his hands. When
Harry lifted his arms, the lace folded backward over his wrists and forearms
like the opening of a flower. 
On a spin, Harry realized his skirt parted in the front, revealing short, white
lace shorts underneath. White panties kept him semi-decent through the lace,
but the shorts revealed far more than Harry had ever dared reveal before. The
shorts were as short as some others he wore, falling only a few inches over his
thighs, but they were see-through. The bottom half of both butt cheeks could be
seen. 
Thin, white leather garters were clipped to the front and back of the shorts to
hold up the soft, white silk stockings that rose just above his knees. His feet
were encased in white leather ankle boots with a high heel, making his legs
look longer and gave his thighs and calves a more pleasing sinuous shape. A
string of silver bells were tied around each ankle just above the boots and
chimed every time he stepped. 
Snow had fallen and caught on his soft, black hair, creating an illusion of a
short veil over his head. He was the image of a bride with dark pink lips, eyes
full of love. Both provocative and yet innocent, the garment and the Dancer
both pleased the God.
“The one to whom you belong has woken to his true self, calmed by your Dance,”
the God told him gently, spinning the boy in Its arms. “You did well. He now
undertakes his Test.”
Harry bowed his head, a blush staining his cheeks. 
“Come.”
Harry was led through the forest, his steps chiming softly through the silent
night. Draco appeared between two massive trees around a turn in the path. He
looked dirty and exhausted. He was naked, blood stained his sides and scrapes
lined his upper arms, but his grey eyes lit up with gentle warmth as soon as he
saw Harry. 
Draco leaned forward to press their foreheads together. “I’m going to come back
to you,” he promised, voice rough and determined. “I’m going to end this once
and for all.” He rubbed his cheek against Harry’s lovingly. 
Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Draco was already looking off into
the shadows, his attention laser sharp and focused. Heart in his throat, aching
to follow in Draco’s footsteps, Harry watched the battered blond walk off into
the darkness alone.
The Old One bent, filling Harry’s vision with the galaxies spinning in Its
eyes. “Wait for him. He will return to you stronger.”
Harry gasped, a protest on his lips - He didn’t want to leave Draco! - but then
he was being spun out of a wall of wind and ice and snow. Cold hands caught him
and he looked up to plead that he be allowed to stay, but it was Narcissa
staring down at him, expression creased in concern. She wrapped him in her
arms, saying something, but Harry couldn’t hear her. All his attention was on
the center of the courtyard. Narcissa had seen it too, for she let him go to
rush forward and kneel in the snow. 
Draco lay naked and unconscious, the tattooed celtic knot glowing faintly at
the hollow of his throat…
                                       …
A young buck stepped out of the shadows of the forest, unafraid and unmolested,
for it lived here always. It was the part of Harry that would be forever
connected to Draco through their bond. It was now taller than Draco’s animal-
form; his legs were long and slender. He had two large, fuzzy knots sitting in
front of his cupped ears, his antlers growing in. The buck looked thinner than
he should and tired, but he was still alert and responsive. Along his back lay
a coating of pure white snow, the smell crisp and clean.
The young deer lowered his head and Draco gently butted his scaled forehead
against that of the deer. “I’m going to come back to you,”he promised silently.
Their bond was still closed, so he couldn’t speak into Harry’s mind, but he
hoped Harry heard him somehow. “I’m going to end this once and for all.” 
Draco rubbed against his cheek against the deer’s one more time, comforting
himself as much as Harry, before setting off on his hunt. It didn’t take him
long. There was a pungent smell on the air that didn’t belong. He stalked the
scent, keeping his body low to the ground. It took him a minute, the smell too
pervasive to follow easily, but he found it. In the hollow of a dying tree,
Draco found a sinister looking pale green and brown cactus with vicious
spines. 
Even as he watched, the cactus shuddered and launched its spines through the
air, spreading the cactus’s influence and poisoning the vegetation around it.
The cactus had grown large, but Draco wasn’t leaving until it was destroyed.
He’d hunt for every spine it had thrown and remove it. He didn’t care how long
it took. He would have his mind back. 
Draco lowered his head and growled. His heart beat steadily in his chest as
venom began to fill his mouth. He spat and hissed, venom splattering the
cactus, and it began to smoke as the acidic fluid touched its fleshy body. His
poison also splashed some of the vegetation around it. Pain lanced through
Draco’s mind, knocking him off his feet. 
Growling, Draco stood. There was no way to prevent some of his own mind from
being damaged as he attacked the foreign object. Heart pounding, his mouth
filled again with venom. Without hesitation, he spat, ignoring the brutal pain
that followed. He was determined to be free …
                                       …
The storm had ended. Severus would be brewing the poison for a few hours more,
until the sun broke the sky. Lucius would have remained with him to see it
through, but an elf had appeared and summoned him to the Infirmary. Lucius had
no choice but to reminded Severus of his promise that half of the potion
belonged to him before making his way quickly to the Hospital Wing.
He braced himself for the worst, but the first thing he saw when he pushed
through the double doors was Harry dressed in a provocative and yet
breathtakingly beautiful wedding gown. It drew attention to the fact that Harry
had grown taller and more willowy in the four months they’d spent at Hogwarts.
His hair seemed a little longer, too, the ends curling slightly underneath a
thin layer of snow that still somehow graced the top of the child’s head. 
In addition to this, the beautifully stitched corset made Harry’s waist seem
smaller and his shoulders and hips wider. Jewel green eyes blinked at him from
across Draco’s hospital bed. Harry was holding tightly to the blond’s hand, the
gorgeous lace from Harry’s long sleeves falling over both their hands.
“What is his condition?” Lucius asked, finding it hard to tear his eyes away
from Harry, dressed as he was.
“There is nothing wrong with him that I can tell,” Madam Pomfrey answered. Her
eyes kept darting to Harry as well; it was clear she was shocked by his attire.
It was interesting to note that Professor McGonagall, who stood at the head of
the bed, did not seem shocked at all. In fact, when her eyes rested on Harry,
she almost seemed awed. 
Lucius stepped closer to his son’s bedside and cast Narcissa a curious glance.
She stood at the foot of Draco’s bed, looking down at their boy with a
thoughtful expression. She didn’t acknowledge his presence. Deep thoughts moved
through her eyes.
Dumbledore stood next to her, stroking his beard. He gave Lucius a cheerful
smile. “Harry had a type of vision. He claims Draco is being tested and the boy
will wake as soon as the trial has been completed.”
“By whom?” Lucius demanded. 
Harry looked up and met Lucius’s eyes. “The God of Winter. She said Draco will
come back stronger.”
A thrill passed through Lucius, his breath catching. The God of Winter had
chosen to test his son and had gone so far as to promise his Blessing.
“Likely it is a fairy playing some trick,” Madam Pomfrey huffed and crossed her
arms. She was Christian and did not believe the Old Gods remained. “That symbol
on Mr. Malfoy’s throat has been activated. It is my understanding that it was
placed on the boy during his time in Faerie.”
Lucius saw the Celtic knot was indeed glowing, but the knowledge in Harry’s
eyes, the unmelting snow, his gown, made him believe Harry was telling the
truth. It wasn’t a fairy who had Draco but a God.
“We will leave him in your care, Madam Pomfrey, until the end of winter break,”
Narcissa spoke, slow and determined. “If he has not awoken by that point, we
will come and fetch both boys.” 
Lucius agreed. The God may consider it interference if they were to remove
Draco from the place of his Test. However, once the students returned from
break, Draco would be too vulnerable to be left unguarded. Dumbledore had long
ago proven his incompetence. 
Lucius reached over and gently clasped Narcissa’s arm, silently giving her
support and comfort. Draco was an incredible soul. He was confident that their
son would come through this triumphant and win the God’s blessing.
His eyes fell on Harry once more. The boy practically exuded the aura of
Winter, which was likely why none of them had considered offering the boy a
robe to help cover him up. Harry clearly wore the God’s favor. A thrill passed
through him once more, awed in the presence of something so much Greater than
he…
                                       …
Ron and his brothers remained in the Tower as promised, but none of them had
gone to bed. They stood watch in the common room, quiet as the howl of the
storm had raged. It was almost dawn when the portrait finally opened. Four
heads snapped over only for their eyes to go wide as Harry stepped through. 
He wore a corset and dress. Harry’s glasses were gone, his eyes a bright grass
green. His hair looked less wild somehow, more feminine with a slight curl. A
thin layer of snow made the top white. Heels made him a few inches taller, his
waist looked so tiny, his arms and neck so slender.
“Blimey! How’d you get turned into a girl?” Ron blurted, a blush staining his
cheeks.
“I assure you, Mr. Weasley,” McGonagall said, voice chilly. “That Mr. Potter is
still very much a boy. He is tired. Please do not keep him up. Allow him to go
to bed in peace.”
The redheads all nodded quickly. She gave them a stern glance and swept out of
the room. Fred and George practically leapt over a couch to stand in front of
Harry. Harry looked up at them, lips a dark pink, eyes bright and framed by
long black lashes. 
“Bloody hell. You’re so pretty,” the twins said in unison. They reached forward
to touch a softly curling lock of hair but hesitated to actually make contact.
Harry immediately blushed, bowing his head and clasping his hands in front of
him shyly.
“Where’s Draco?” Percy asked, worried. 
He’d come to stand beside the twins. He frowned at them in warning. They all
knew if any of them touched Harry without permission, Draco would have their
skins. And that wasn’t an exaggeration. They’d known the boys for four years.
They knew just how possessive and vicious Draco could get.
“He’s in the Infirmary,” Harry told them. The Malfoys had made it clear to keep
the Dark God a secret. “Madam Pomfrey said he’ll wake in a few days.”
“Why’re you dressed like that?” Ron demanded. He was blinking slowly, still
mesmerized and shocked by Harry’s appearance. “Don’t you care you’re wearing a
dress?”
Harry looked down at himself and smoothed his hand over the corset and the
silk-lined lace at his hips. His blush darkened, but a smile curled the corner
of his lips. Looking up shyly through his lashes, he admitted, “I think it’s
beautiful.” He swayed side to side, letting the material slide over his legs. 
Fred and George both swallowed hard, their pants growing a bit tight. Ron
continued to stare, baffled.
Percy scowled at the twins. “Time for bed,” he ordered firmly. “Come on, Ron.
Let’s help Harry get ready.”
Ron took Harry’s hand and led him toward the stairs. “I think I'd die of
embarrassment if someone put me in a dress.” He looked over at his friend and
Harry looked back at him trustingly. “But… I guess it does look kinda okay on
you.”
Fred and George stood rooted to the spot as they watched Harry climb the
stairs. The slit in the dress opened withe very step up. It revealed a slit
down the middle of the skirt. They could see bare thighs and silk stockings and
small lace shorts that matched the top. The kid was a total knockout!
Percy firmly shut the dorm door behind them and locked it. He was glad Ron was
still young enough to be unaffected by Harry’s look. It wasn’t just that the
dress was beautiful and provocative, especially to a wizard’s way of thinking,
but Harry’s sweet temperament and trusting nature made it all the more
arousing. 
“Get his pajamas, please,” Percy ordered. 
He knelt behind Harry and began to work on untying the corset. He’d never done
it before, so it took him quite a few minutes. Harry stood patient and
uncomplaining. Ron had perched himself at the end of the bed, his rat in his
lap. Percy finally got the damn thing off, his fingers throbbing from having to
untie the many rows. Ron’s gasp drew his attention and he looked to see that
Harry had unbuttoned the skirt and it now pooled on the floor at his feet.
The lace shirt fell just shy of the boy’s belly button, revealing a few inches
of perfect, bare skin before the lace shorts started low on his hips. White
silk panties rose high up Harry’s butt, revealing half the boy’s round ass
underneath see-through lace. High-heel ankle boots and silver bells graced his
feet under what seemed miles of silk-clad legs. The strip of bare thigh between
stockings and lace seemed shockingly provocative. Even Percy felt himself
reacting, the memories of being with the boys each year to renew his tattoo
coming back to him full force.
“Bloody hell,” Ron breathed. He was deeply shocked, his face dark red. He’d
never seen lingerie before, and this definitely fell into that category. 
Harry was oblivious to the other two boys in the room. He bent, giving the
redheads a spectacular view of his ass, and carefully lifted the skirt. He knew
how precious this gift was and he was determined to take good care of it. He
also took the corset from Percy’s limp hands. 
Walking over to his armoire, the bells around his ankles chiming softly, he
busied himself with hanging and storing the skirt and corset. Looking over his
shoulder, he asked sweetly, “Can you help me out of the shirt. I don’t want it
to tear.”
Percy swallowed hard, his fingers trembling, but he went over. He smoothed his
hand down Harry’s back and arms, looking for buttons. He bit back a groan at
the feel of how warm and soft Harry’s skin was. The buttons were tiny and ran
down the boy’s spine. There were dozens of them. Percy slowly worked the
buttons open, the lace parting to reveal pale, golden skin. 
“You got a tattoo?” Ron demanded. The shock of his friend wearing strange
clothes that revealed far more than they covered disappeared in an instant.
Percy looked to see the silver-white dragon staring up at him from Harry’s
side. Percy quickly swallowed and desperately told his dick to calm down. He
didn’t want to die on the floor in the First-year boys’ dorm because of a
boner.
“Yeah.” Harry smiled, joy radiating from his face. “Draco gave it to me.”
“Draco can do tattoos?” Ron’s eyes lit up. “I want one!”
“Mum would kill you,” Percy told him, rolling his eyes behind his glasses. He
sighed in relief as the last button came undone. “You can get it off yourself,
right?”
“Yes. Thank you, Percy.” Harry gave him a sweet smile.
Ron pouted on the bed. “But I want one! Maybe a lion. That’d be so wicked!”
“If Draco gives you a tattoo, you don’t get to pick what it is,” Percy told
him, amused by his little brother.
“Oh.” Ron considered that. “Maybe if I asked nicely?”
“Mum would still kill you,” Percy repeated.
Ron’s jaw set stubbornly and Percy sighed. At least he could count on Draco not
giving Ron a tattoo based on his little brother’s whim. Draco would only give
one if he meant it heart and soul, and Percy doubted a tattoo was in Ron’s
future.
Fortunately their little argument distracted Percy from the rest of Harry’s
undressing. The boy came over bare-footed in a t-shirt and a night robe. Harry
yawned, the snow in his hair melting as the light of dawn broke through the
window. Water dripped off the ends of his hair and darkened the robe he wore. 
“Come on. Time for bed.” Percy smiled and pulled Harry over to his bed. 
Ron crawled unprompted under the covers of the middle bed. 
Percy tucked Harry in and cast a drying charm at his head. It made the boy’s
hair fluff up and become messy once more. He grinned. “Good night, boys. Try
and sleep in if you can.”
“Good night. Sleep well,” Harry answered sleepily. He turned on his side facing
the bed Ron was in, green eyes blinking slowly.
“Night, Percy. Night, Harry,” Ron called. 
Percy came over and smoothed the covers over this brother on his way out the
door. “Sleep well.”
                                       …
Bella woke on the floor of Lucius’s office. The diary lay open before her. All
sense of magic was gone from it. Pain lanced up her spine and instinctively she
closed her legs. Something hot and wet coated her thighs. It only took a second
to realize it was blood. Crying, she sat up. Her arms and wrists were bruised.
Her throat was swollen. She could breathe, but talking was out of the question.
It felt like she had swallowed lava. Her thighs ached, but all of that paled in
comparison to the scream of pain inside her.
She managed to get to her hands and knees. She had no magic to speak of, but
that was okay because her spells must have run out. An elf appeared, looking
absolutely shocked. Without being told, it summoned towels for her to hold
between her legs and, not knowing what else to do, began to clean the blood
from the floor. It wouldn’t keep Lucius from knowing she had been in there or
hide the fact the diary was dead, but at least he wouldn’t have her blood to
play with. 
Bellatrix sat still for a long minute just trying to breathe through the pain.
She had to leave. Before her sister or Lucius returned. Her hands cupped
protectively over the small roundness of her stomach. She had to protect her
Lord and Master. Gritting her teeth, Bellatrix forced herself to stand. She
limped over to the fireplace. She unraveled the wards with a careful tug in
just the right place. There was no more need for subtle. 
The elves tried to stop her, but they were bound not to harm her. She was of
their Master’s Blood. Harming her would mean their death. With a grimace of
absolute agony, tears streaking her face, Bellatrix lifted a handful of floo
powder. Throwing it down, she whispered her destination and disappeared in a
flash of green.
Chapter end.
A/N:A long chapter. There’s a lot happening here. Let me know what you think
please. :D
 
***** Interlude *****
Interlude
Lucius and Narcissa arrived home shortly after dawn. They were both emotionally
exhausted and deep in thought about everything that had occurred, so it took a
second longer than it normally would to notice that both Lottie and Dobby were
standing against the wall in the receiving room with heads lowered, trembling. 
“What is it?” Lucius demanded as he spelled Narcissa clean of floo-ash. 
“Master…” Dobby whispered. Both elves sank to their knees. “Masters, Lady Black
has escaped…”
Narcissa sucked in a soft breath as Lucius went perfectly still. His face went
cold and hard, his eyes glinting silver. 
“How is that possible?” he demanded, his tone even and yet vibrating with
threat.
Lottie was practically a puddle on the floor, quivering and sobbing, leaving
poor Dobby to speak for them both. Brutally twisting his ears, Dobby squeaked
and whimpered, the story coming out in stuttered bits.
“I’s… I’s don’t… don’t know, Masters! D-Dobby and L-Lottie were cleaning M-
Masters! Then we’s- we’s falls asleep r-right on the floors! W-when we’s w-wake
up, Masters, w-we sensed L-Lady B-Black be h-hurt! D-Dobby and Lottie went
right away! L-Lady B-Black be on the f-floor! S-She be bleeding! Lottie fetched
her a towel and Dobby offered to get L-Lady B-Black anything for her, but she
didn’t speak, M-Masters! Then- Then she s-stood and went to the f-floo.
Masters! Dobby and Lottie could not stop her Masters! She be hurt bad! Dobby
and Lottie were afraid to h-hurt her more! She used the f-floo and went away,
Masters! Dobby tried to follow her, but she went to a place Dobby can not find
her! Masters, we are so sorry!”
Lucius’s wand snapped out of his cane in a flash. “Crucio,” he intoned with
cold clarity. 
As the two elves screamed and shrieked, thrashing on the floor in acute agony,
Lucius’s thoughts raced. The manor’s wards had been penetrated once, when Draco
had been stolen as an infant. It had seemed impossible then. The manor had
stood impenetrable for over five hundred years. The house and wards had been
added to and remodeled by Malfoys since it’s construction, but that should have
only increased the wards’ power over the years. If it had been impossible then,
it was inconceivable now. Since Draco’s abduction, Lucius had become obsessive
about powering and checking the wards. He’d added a whole new layer and
extended the ward boundary by a quarter of a mile. They should have been
unassailable!
Coldly furious, Lucius turned to his wife. His spell snapped off, leaving the
helpless elves whimpering. “Did you help arrange this, Wife?”
Narcissa looked pale as a ghost. Her hand rested at the base of her throat, her
expression clearly shocked. “No, Lucius. You know I didn’t.” But her voice was
faint, scared.
Lucius took a step closer to her. “There is no other way around my wards,
Narcissa.”
Narcissa’s hand dropped, temper sparking in her sky blue eyes. “I would not
help my sister escape, Lucius! She’s clearly taken by the Black madness and a
threat to my son! I may not want her caged and tormented, but I do not want her
free to act as she pleases!”
“You’ve forever underestimated your sister, Narcissa,” Lucius said coldly,
taking another step closer so that he stood directly in front of her, her head
tilted back so that she could look meet his eyes. “That witch is vicious and
dangerous. She rightfully belonged in my dungeon.”
“You have no understanding of a sibling bond, Lucius,” Narcissa spat, eyes
narrowed. “I know her better than anyone. I know exactly what she is capable
of! I secured those rooms. I cannot imagine how she managed to escape them.”
“You do not understand her at all, Narcissa. You only see the lost little
sister you left behind when we married.” Lucius grabbed his wife carefully by
the hair, cradling the back of her head. “You will allow me entrance into your
mind, Wife,” he commanded. “I will see just how compromised your weakness has
made us.”
Narcissa had no right to refuse. She could manipulate and influence him as was
her right, but in the end Lucius was her husband and she had to obey. Refusing
to flinch, she stared defiantly into his cold, silver eyes.
“Legilimens,” Lucius incanted, voice sharp as a knife. 
He wasn't a master in the Mind Arts, but he was proficient. It also helped that
there was a strong marriage bond between Narcissa and him. He’d had Bellatrix
at his mercy for years before Narcissa discovered her. He knew her magic and he
hunted for it ruthlessly, completely uncaring of the pain it caused Narcissa.
…
It was late June. Narcissa had just finished her 6th year of Hogwarts,
Bellatrix her 5th. They sat together silently in a compartment alone. Their
friends knew to leave them alone, the two Black sisters descending into a dark
mood. Almost two years ago to the day their older sister Andromeda had
graduated and eloped with a Muggleborn. She’d been disowned, naturally; her
name forbidden in their house. Ever since that day, their home had become
oppressive and forbidding. Their mother watched everything they did and
punished any small error. This summer in particular promised to be especially
unhappy.
Narcissa looked at her younger sister. They were born only a year apart and
should have been really close, but Narcissa had always gotten along better with
the more calm and reasonable Andromeda. Bellatrix was so unpredictable and
prone to strange moods, but she was Narcissa’s sister. Narcissa worried about
her, especially now.
“Are you scared he’ll pick me?” Bellatrix asked suddenly.
Lord Lucius Malfoy, the impressive boy who had taken over his family name and
businesses at the young age of thirteen at his father’s death, had a betrothal
contract made with the Black family from his birth. Andromeda, four years older
than Lucius, had been the intended bride, but she had obviously disqualified
herself. That left Narcissa or Bellatrix. The daughter that Lucius chose would
become his betrothed and finish her years at Hogwarts as the contract bid.
Directly after graduation, they would be wed. As for the remaining daughter,
their mother had already promised during Yule that she would be removed from
Hogwarts permanently, to distance her from any more dangerous influences.
Lucius had just graduated. He’d make his offer to one of them soon. One of them
would not be returning to Hogwarts next year.
Narcissa’s fists clenched on her thighs. Hatred for her older sister made her
tremble. This was all Andromeda’s fault! If she hadn’t been so perverse and
selfish, they wouldn’t be in this position. The truth was, Narcissa was
terrified Lucius would pick Bellatrix and leave her behind with their mother
alone. She desperately wanted to be chosen, even knowing that it would condemn
her little sister instead.
“Don’t be scared, Cissa,” Bellatrix said softly. She had the same blue eyes as
Narcissa, the same pale skin, but that is where their similarities ended.
Bellatrix had wild, curly black hair; Narcissa straight blonde. Bellatrix was
curvy and vivacious; Narcissa slender and reserved.
“I only have one more year of Hogwarts anyway,” Narcissa voiced. “It’d be
better if he’d pick you. You’d get two more years before…”
Bellatrix reached over and took her hand. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you.
He’ll pick you,” she said softly. Turning, she impulsively wrapped her arms
around her sister in a tight hug. “Promise me. Promise you’ll come visit after
you marry. Don’t forget me, Cissa. Please don’t forget me.”
Tears burning her eyes, Narcissa hugged her sister back. “I’ll never forget
you, Bella. You’re my little sister. I’ll do what I can. Promise.”
…
Narcissa jerked awake. The room was nearly pitch dark. Her ward was still in
place, she could feel it, but impossibly she knew she was no longer alone. Her
whole body went tense as she felt her mattress dip. 
“Shhh. It’s just me,” came a soft voice.
“Bella…” Narcissa didn’t relax. Bella had been changed. Her eyes glinted more
wildly than ever. Her moods had become more extreme. Narcissa had learned to be
afraid of her little sister.
During her last visit home at Yule, Bellatrix had been quiet and perfect, but
on the third day she had gone into a fit of rage. She’d physically attacked
Narcissa, busting Narcissa’s lip and leaving painful scratches and bruises on
her body. The hatred in Bellatrix’s eyes then had chilled Narcissa to the
core. 
After that, Bella had been punished with Crucio intermittently for an hour.
Shaken, horrified, Narcissa had listened as Belltrix howled with laughter for
the first fifteen minutes before finally breaking down into screams. Narcissa
had never been so grateful in her life to go back to Hogwarts. Now she was back
home, but only for one more night. She had graduated and would be married to
Lucius the next day, leaving her family for good.
“How’d you get past my ward?” she asked in a frightened whisper.
“Cissa… Cissa, I’m sorry… for before…” Bellatrix’s voice was sweet and soft,
the way it had been when they were younger, the way it had been on that last
train ride together from Hogwarts.
Narcissa immediately melted. “Bella…”
Bellatrix wrapped her body around Narcissa’s in a soft embrace. “I didn’t know
it was you… I think I’m going mad, Cissa… I’m so scared… I don’t even know who
I am anymore…”
Narcissa stroked her sister’s curls. She wanted to promise to help her, to take
her away from this house, but she knew it was impossible. Their mother owned
Bellatrix. There was nothing she or Lucius could do. “You need to get married,
Bella. I know Mother has gone over the List with you. Pick one! Any one! I’ll
do what I can to make them see how advantageous it would be accept you. Lucius
has great influence…”
Bella chuckled wetly. She’d started crying, her tears warming Narcissa’s
shoulder. “Mother favors Rudolphus.”
Narcissa bit her lip. Rudolphus Lestrange was cold and frightening. At school,
it was no secret that familiars and pets were not to be left alone with him. He
had killed more than one animal during their time at Hogwarts. “What about a
Greengrass?” Narcissa suggested. “Together we could convince Mother…”
Bellatrix laughed wildly, making Narcissa tense in fear, but her sister didn’t
lash out. “Mother will not accept anyone Neutral. She distrusts everyone,
Narcissa. Only the most staunchly Dark will be acceptable to her.” Bellatrix’s
voice dropped to a whisper, all humor bleeding out of it. “Only if they will
hurt me will she accept them. All bad girls need to be punished, you know.”
“Bella…” Narcissa’s heart ached for her sister, only sixteen and already so
broken.
“Nevermind, Cissa…” Bellatrix whispered. “Just don’t forget your proimse.”
“I’ll never forget you, Bella,” Narcissa said again.
…
Narcissa had been married nearly half a year now. She had fallen more in love
with Lucius than she had expected to. She was happy, but guilt still weighed on
her heart. She’d gotten a letter practically begging her to visit from her
little sister. Lucius had forbidden Narcissa’s family from visiting her, but
she was free to go as she pleased. Gathering her courage, she flooed home.
“Sweet, sweet Cissa!” Bellatrix grabbed hold of her almost before she had
stepped out of the floo. “How I’ve missed my beloved sister!”
Narcissa winced. Bella’s hold was too tight, her nails digging into her skin.
She carefully pulled away, offering a pained smile. “Bella dear. How are you?
How’s Mother? Father?”
Bella grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the receiving room and down the
hallway toward the sitting room. The hall was dark. No candles were lit. The
whole house seemed cast in even more gloom than before. “Mother is resting.
She’s come down with something.” A michevious grin flashed across Bella’s face.
“Father is attending to her, of course.” Bellatrix released her hand and did a
twirl before sitting gracefully on the couch. “Kretcher!”
The elf looked battered and crazed, but he appeared and served them as a proper
elf should. 
“Did you hear, Cissa dear. I’m engaged to Rudolphus. Mother decided at last,”
Bellatrix told Narcissa happily, holding her teacup carefully in her hand. She
took a sip. “There’s a rumor that the bitch is with child, you know. Of course,
the bitch won’t likely survive long enough to birth the filthy thing. Not if
Mother finds her.”
Narcissa was so shocked by the profanity falling so easily from her sister’s
mouth that she sat frozen and wide-eyed. 
Bellatrix pushed her curls away from her face. It revealed dark circles and
skin too pale to be healthy, but her sister’s face was stretched in a seemingly
happy grin. “When Mother’s feeling better, she’ll likely call you home soon to
suggest you get with child. We have to redeem our bloodline. It’s just the two
of us now.”
Narcissa blushed. Lucius had told her of the Malfoy Curse before they wed.
She’d accepted his hand regardless. What else could she do? She’d love to get
with child, but there was war on the horizon. Lucius was keeping his eye on it
in great interest. It wasn’t exactly a good time to be having a child. On the
other hand, if Lucius got involved and something happened to him, he would need
an Heir or risk ending the Malfoy line permanently. Perhaps she could convince
him?
Bellatrix laughed. “I see I’ve caught your interest. Lucius must be as skilled
in bed as he is with his wand.”
“Bella!” Narcissa gasped.
It was as if all the joy in Bellatrix’s eyes and face melted away to reveal
something deeply sad and disturbing in its place. “Cissa… Sorry… I… I have no
idea what to do… who to turn to…”
Narcissa felt her heart soften. She left her chair and sat beside her sister on
the couch. She wrapped Bellatrix in her arms and her sister folded into her as
if she were much younger than her age. Narcissa’s eyes widened when she
realized her little sister was shaking.
“I… I can take it… whatever Rudolphus dishes out, but… if I have a baby…
Narcissa… do you remember your promise?”
Narcissa’s arms tightened. “You can come to me. If you ever need a safe place,
you or your child, you can come to me.”
Bella was silent a long minute. “But Lucius… He won’t allow it… The wards keep
me out as much as Mother…”
Narcissa had to admit that was true. “I’ll talk to him…”
“If my husband were about to kill me in a fit of passion… or kill my baby… I
want to know I have somewhere I can retreat to…” Beseeching baby blue eyes
looked up at her. “You’re the only safe place I know, Cissa…”
Narcissa bit her lip. Years of guilt reared up. She knew she shouldn’t. She
knew her new husband would be angry, but looking into her sister’s eyes, she
knew she had no other choice. Andromeda had left them both, abandoned them to
deal with the aftermath of her horrible choice. Narcissa had also left, but she
refused to abandon Bellatrix completely. 
She took Bella by the hand and led her down to the ritual room. Bellatrix
watched her wide-eyed as a lamb, gratitude shining on her cheeks in the form of
tears. Together, they worked a spell that would make their blood
indistinguishable from each other. Wherever Narcissa could pass, so to could
Bella if she called upon their shared blood. In an emergency, Bella would be
able to come to her even in Malfoy Manor. Lucius would understand.
After the ritual, Bella fell on her, kissing her face over and over. Narcissa
smiled and held her close. “You kept your promise…” Bella cried, half in shock,
half in delight. “I love you, Cissa… Thank you!” She pulled back, cupping her
older sister’s face in her hands. Her expression turning serious and
protective. “But if he finds out… Narcissa, he’ll hurt you…”
“No,” Narcissa tried to tell her. “Lucius wouldn’t…”
“You don’t know what he’s capable of, Cissa…” Bella insisted, eyes burning
compellingly. “He will be furious and hurt you, sweet sister. We have to keep
it secret. We have to keep you safe.”
“But…”
“Look into my eyes… I’ll lock this away. He’ll never find it. He’ll never
know…” Bella kissed her sister’s cheek. “Let me protect you, Cissa. Please…”
Narcissa sighed, hugging her sister once more. “Fine. But he wouldn’t hurt me,
Bella. Lucius isn’t like that. Isn’t like them. He’d understand.”
Bella smiled with such sorrow then. “It’s okay, Cissa. It’s better if you
believe that. I’ll protect you, sweet sister… Obliviate…”
…
Narcissa collapsed bonelessly. Her head pounded so fiercely that her vision
swam in and out. The room seemed at once too bright and going dim. Tears
streaked her face. A moan slipped past her lips.
“You opened the door. You let her in. Allowed her to manipulate you,” Lucius
accused coldly, looking down at his wife pitilessly. “Our son was taken because
you trusted an insane and dangerous witch. And now she is gone again, a threat
to my only son once more.”
“Lucius,” she whimpered. 
Narcissa couldn’t move. Simply turning her head made her feel like she was
going to be sick. Arguments and justifications sat on her tongue, but he did
not allow her to explain. Power built in the room. Lucius raised his hand high,
using his wand to cut his palm. His blood fell, but it seemed to be absorbed
into the floor. A thrum of power surrounded them. The Malfoy signet ring on
Lucius’s finger burned a cold blue. He reached forward and grabbed her hand,
cutting it. Her blood splattered the rug beneath them. 
“Lucius,” she gasped. “Don’t…”
“As Lord Malfoy, rightful Heir to the Malfoy line, I hereby revoke your access
to the wards. You will henceforth no longer be recognized as a Malfoy-bride by
this mine house and servants,” he intoned, eyes staring down at her coldly.
A gentle, pulsing web shimmered into existence around her. It connected her to
the manor and to her husband. The energy swelled and then shattered, falling to
be absorbed by the walls and Lucius himself. He was not done. He knelt before
her, ignoring her pained sobs.
Placing his bleeding hand on her throat, he continued, “By this blood, I,
Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, bind Narcissa Black Malfoy as a ward of the Manor.” 
Narcissa hissed through her tears as a bolt of cold blue light lashed up from
the floor to encircle her neck before fading from view. She’d been cut off,
made a guest of the house. Now, worse, he was marking her a ward to be
monitored like a child, only able to enter or leave with his express
permission. She was no different from Harry and with as much power over the
house and wards, which is to say, none. 
Standing, he strode from the room, leaving her on the floor, her hand still
bleeding onto the rug, her throat smeared with his quickly drying blood.
Narcissa curled into a miserable ball and wept.
Lucius lashed out, punching the wall of the hallway with a closed and trembling
fist. He could hardly catch his breath. He was so angry and hurt. How dare
Narcissa betray him so terribly! Practically vibrating with regret and rage, he
strode quickly to his office. A sense of doom closed in on him the closer he
got. The miserable elf said Bellatrix had been bleeding, badly injured. What
would have caused such an injury except for his most dangerous wards.
His office door was open. He stood frozen in the doorway. His long hair hung
loose around his shoulders. His wand remained clenched in his hand. There on
the floor by his desk, he could see it. The black diary. Horrified, he walked
carefully across the rug. He knelt, but he already knew. The diary was empty.
It was simply an old book. The magic and soul it had contained within its pages
were gone. 
Lucius stood and flung the book at the wall with a roar of rage. He should have
destroyed it when he had the chance! Now the Dark Lord’s soul was loose with
that wretched bitch! Both of whom were dangers to his son.
…
Draco lay shivering and panting on the ground. His mouth stung from all the
venom he’d produced and spat at the invasive plant growing in his mind. Blood
dripped down from the corner of his mussel from the bleeding sores that had
spread on his gums. He was exhausted and nauseous, but where the cactus had sat
there was now a smoking circle at the base of a rather battered tree. 
Draco knew he could give up. He could let his consciousness rise from the
depths of his mind. He was exhausted and hurt. No one would blame him if he
left things as they were, but he just couldn’t. There were still cactus thorns
embedded in the surrounding plants. He was determined to take back the whole of
his mind. He couldn’t stand to leave a single poisonous splinter to infect his
personality, and he refused to leave even the smallest foothold for Voldemort
to gain power over him again.
Get up! he growled to himself, but his body wouldn’t obey. He lay helpless,
whimpering on the forest floor, refusing to let go.
…
Harry woke abruptly and immediately reached for Draco, but his hand met with
empty space. Harry blinked his eyes clear to see that the sun had been up for
hours. Sitting up, the blankets fell down his body to pool in his lap. He
frowned and shivered against the winter chill, wrapping his arms around his
chest. He’d gone to bed in a t-shirt and a warm robe because of the cold. He
still wore the robe, but it had fallen open, the ties undone. He wore nothing
underneath. His t-shirt was missing. Frowning, he slid his legs over the side
of the bed. 
“Ron?” he called in confusion, reaching for his glasses.
The redhead’s bed was empty. 
Shivering, he quickly hurried to his armoire and got dressed. He needed to see
Draco. His absence was as loud as a scream that grated along his nerves.
Hurrying down the dorm stairs, he found Ron sitting with his brothers in the
common room. 
Ron smiled as his friend appeared. “Harry! Bout time you got up! It’s well past
lunch.”
“I’m going to go visit Draco,” he informed them, barely stopping on his way to
the portrait. 
“Whoa. Wait.” Ron called. “I’ll go with you.”
“We all will,” Percy corrected dryly, seeing the interested looks on his twin
brothers’ faces. 
It didn’t take them long to make it to the Hospital Wing. The hallways were
empty, even the portraits were quieter than normal. They found Madam Pomfrey
hovering by Draco’s bedside. Harry’s eyes widened as he watched two trails of
blood fall from Draco’s nose.  
The older witch had her hair pulled back in her customary bun. Her dress had a
full skirt and she wore the traditional nurse’s apron over it. She was a small
woman, but she was strong. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Pomfrey
said firmly. “Mr. Malfoy needs rest.”
Harry ducked past her. She tisked but allowed it. Dumbledore had warned her not
to interfere between the two, that their bond was powerful and inexplicable.
The Weasleys, however, were firmly pushed out the door to wait for their
friend. 
Harry crawled up onto the bed and pressed his forehead gently to Draco’s. With
his right hand, he gently cupped the sleeping boy’s face. Draco’s skin felt
cool to the touch. There was no reaction. The blond lay perfectly still, his
chest barely rising as he breathed. Harry closed his eyes and let his - love-
rise and fill him. It was his job to heal Draco, to help him in whatever way he
could. Draco was his everything. He owned Harry body and soul. 
Pomfrey came back to her patient. She’d seen strange and wonderful things in
her time serving as a healer, nothing usually surprised her anymore, but the
sight of little Harry Potter laying next to the Malfoy Heir, their foreheads
pressed together, gave her pause. There was a feeling in the air, the stirring
of wild magic. She stood frozen, entranced as Harry’s eyes opened, the boy
staring down at Draco. The green of his irises glowed faintly, visible even
past the barrier of his black-framed glasses. 
- LOVE - Harry lowered his mouth to Draco’s and breathed out just as the blond
breathed in. The very magic of his being, everything that made him him, raw and
untamed, spilled from his body into Draco’s underneath him. Harry pressed their
lips together in a one-sided kiss. The taste of Draco’s blood filled his mouth
along with the hint of crisp, cold snow. As if from a great distance, Harry
could just barely hear the tinkling of a small silver bell.
…
Growling and whimpering, refusing to let go, Draco lay on his side on the
forest floor. Every few minutes he’d try to stand, only to collapse once more.
A sound caught his attention. At first it sounded like a small bell, but then
he made out the sound of steps. The leaves and underbrush rustled as it drew
closer. Draco watched through unblinking snake-like eyes and waited. 
He saw the glow first. It illuminated the shadows as it came forward. Draco
relaxed, immediately recognizing that soft, golden light. As he expected, a
young stag stepped clear of the trees and ferns, its small delicate hooves
falling lightly on the ground. It came to Draco unhesitatingly. It knelt,
bending its legs gracefully, before lying next to him. Draco gave a purr-like
noise of acceptance and in response the stag reached its soft, velveteen nose
forward, touching his cheek.
Warmth washed through Draco, making him arch and purr. His claws dug into the
soft soil beneath them. Pleasure assaulted his senses, as if he’d stepped into
a hot bath after a cold, long day. For a brief moment, he was a small human boy
again with Harry’s warm body in his arms, their bodies pressing together in a
way that sent pleasure sizzling along his nerves. Then he was the scaled, cat-
creature once more with a beautiful stag staring into his eyes. 
Strength returned quickly now, the sores in his mouth healed. Climbing easily
to his feet, Draco looked down at the deer. With another soft purr, he licked
along the stag’s cheek and over the curved ear. The deer closed its eyes in
pleasure. Thank you, Harry, Draco thought, hoping it would reach him. Such a
good boy. Love you so much.He took a step away. The deer watched, ever
accepting and obedient. I’ll be back soon, he promised and disappeared into the
shadows of the forest.
…
Harry pulled away from Draco. He somehow knew that he’d done all he could, that
Draco would be okay for now. As he sat up, a wave of dizziness passed over
him. 
Madam Pomfrey forced herself into motion. She was shocked, of course. She
hadn’t expected Harry to press his lips to the other boy’s. It wasn’t a chaste
kiss, either. The way Harry’s lips moved over the blond’s had been sensual and
familiar. The delicate curve of Harry’s back as he melted into the kiss, the
unconscious surrender in his body language, Harry’s desire had been clear.
“Sit for a moment, young man,” she ordered, trying to get back to business, her
cheek still burning hot. She ran her wand over him and frowned at the results.
“You’ve magically drained yourself, child. Lay still for a moment. I’ll fetch
you a potion. Then I want you to go get something to eat and get back into
bed.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Harry replied demurely.
He leaned back against the headboard, Draco asleep next to him. His fingers
tugged and twisted the shirt by Draco’s shoulder. He felt content and at peace
from just sitting next to the blond. Harry stared down at him lovingly until
Pomfrey returned with the potion. It tasted citrusy and strongly astringent.
Somehow Harry managed to swallow it all in one go. Pomfrey let him rest for a
moment longer to let it settle and then firmly shooed him out the door and into
the company of his friends.
“Make sure he eats a good meal and put him back to bed, Mr. Weasley,” she
ordered.
Percy nodded, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “Yes, ma’am. I will.”
Satisfied, Pomfrey shut the door in their faces.
“How is he?” Ron wanted to know. He gave Harry a serious look, demanding the
truth.
“I healed him a little,” Harry admitted. “I think he’s okay for now.”
The Weasley brothers exchanged glances, wondering if Harry knew how strange he
was. 
“Are we going to the kitchen?” Ron wanted to know, excitement in his eyes.
Percy shook his head at his little brother. “Yes, Ron. We’re going to the
kitchen.”
Fred and George shared big grins and led the way. They talked excitedly about
places to explore and tricks to pull tomorrow when Harry was rested. Ron was
even more excited by this. He hadn’t been allowed to help his brothers play
pranks before. It sounded exciting! 
Ron flung his arm around Harry’s shoulder and smiled happily. “You hear that,
Harry? The Slytherins won’t know what hit ‘em when they get back!”
Harry leaned into him tiredly, returning his smile. “But it won’t splash the
First-years, will it?” He was thinking of Pansy, Vince, and Greg. He wished
they could be friends again.
“We can make sure it doesn’t,” Fred offered reluctantly.
“Although maybe they’d like to have rainbow hair, too,” George said with mock-
seriousness. 
“Wouldn’t want them to feel left out, do we?” Fred agreed.
“I don’t see you sporting the look,” Percy pointed out with an arched eyebrow.
The twins laughed and promised to turn their hair rainbow for tomorrow.
Once they arrived at the kitchen, the elves were only too happy to serve them
an early dinner. Percy watched Harry carefully. The younger boy was quiet and
subdued. He looked exhausted. By the time he’d finished eating all that he
could, his eyes were only half-open. 
“Come on. Let’s get you to bed,” Percy said, pulling Harry gently to his feet.
The others weren’t ready to call it a night, so Percy walked Harry up to the
Tower alone. He got the younger boy changed and into bed. Harry was asleep
before his head hit the pillow. Percy tucked him in, making sure he’d stay warm
throughout the night. Checking that everything was in its place, he spelled the
lights off and shut the door behind him.
…
Bellatrix opened her eyes. At first the room was blurry. She blinked a few
times. The room looked familiar, but at the same time like she had never seen
it before. It had dark pink paisley wallpaper. A dark brown dresser sat across
from the foot of the bed. The bed itself was a four-poster with deep burgundy
curtains. 
“Bellatrix.”
She turned her head to see an older man sitting at her bedside. He had a large,
leather-bound tome open on his lap. He was slender with not an ounce of extra
fat on his frame. His hair was slicked back, grey streaking the dark brown. His
eyes were crystalline blue. She gave him a sweet smile.
“Father. Welcome back,” she said happily. She was at Grimmauld Place as she’d
intended. She hadn’t immediately recognized the room because it was the master
bedroom. She hadn’t been in here often and never in the bed.
Cygnus Black shut his book and placed it on the bedside table. He stood and
leaned over her. “Bellatrix. What have you done, Daughter?”
Bella giggled and cupped her swollen belly. Even now she could still feel the
warm drip of blood from between her legs. At least it seemed to be slowing. “We
have much to talk about, Father.” Her expression turned serious. “Do not let
Narcissa or Malfoy come here.” She reached out and caught his sleeve, her eyes
burning feverishly. “They would destroy me.”
Cygnus looked down at his youngest child. The world had thought she’d died
years ago in Azkaban, but he was her father. He had known instinctively that
she still lived. It infuriated him that she was injured and on the run from
Malfoy. Vengeful hate burned brightly in his chest. His one refuge, his
sanctuary of nearly twenty years, had been stolen from him by that pompous,
pretty-boy Malfoy and his despicable agent Huld. Cygnus would do whatever he
could to stand in that arrogant sod’s way.
Reaching forward to stroke his daughter’s wild curls, he gave her a reassuring
smile. “Do not worry, Bellatrix. Malfoy will never be welcome here. Now tell me
what you have been up to. You reek of a Dark ritual.”
Bellatrix pulled back the blankets to see her belly. She stroked its unfamiliar
roundness and smiled up at her father. “The Dark Lord shall be reborn.”
Cygnus’s eyes widened in shock, his hand unconsciously tightening in his
daughter’s hair, before his expression became thoughtful. “Is that so?” he said
slowly.
“Yes. I have much to get ready,” she told him almost sweetly. A strange glow
entered her eyes. The cold breath of winter filled the room. “You will help me,
won’t you, Father?”
He’d been holed up for over four years now in Grimmauld Place, no one the
wiser. At first, he’d tried to stay completely secluded, but loneliness had
driven him out amongst his peers, shrouded of course, his identity hidden, but
he’d been disgusted by the decline of the Wizarding population. They’d become
complacent and lazy, barely holding onto their power and culture. It was so
stagnant here, hardly anything wild or powerful left in their world. 
Looking into his daughter’s eyes he saw a bit of the wild, raw power of true
magic once more. It called to him. He understood instinctively that she was
already lost, sacrificed to whatever ritual she had begun, but she had summoned
and wielded true power and pride burned bright in his chest. 
He touched her cheek gently and promised his support for what little time she
had left. “I will help you, Daughter. You will have whatever you need.”
Bellatrix gave him a wild grin. “Thank you, Father!”
Chapter end.
A/N:So a bit of a shorter chapter. I got some explanation in there regarding
Bellatrix’s escape. I still have to flush out and explain what’s happening to
Bellatrix and the version of the Dark Lord she “carries”. I also want to
explore Draco on his mental quest more in the next chapter and explore a Harry
without Draco. Not to mention the possessed Quirrell still running about. And
Snape’s potion. Lol! I got a lot of work to do.
***** Violation *****
A/N: Just a reminder that this isM for Mature. There are scenes of child abuse
/ slavery / human trafficking / and rape in this chapter.
Violation
The rich aroma of the forest filled his senses. The smell of fresh rain, the
soft perfume of flowers, the musk of animals, the green of plants, and just
underneath it all… the sickly sweet smell of poison. Nostrils flaring, he crept
silently through the underbrush and came upon a wide tree. The bark was darker,
more sinister than the surrounding trees. The shade it cast felt threatening;
the shadows almost seemed hungry. 
Draco stalked around the base of the tree, searching… There! A thorn about teen
feet above his head was halfway embedded in the trunk. Black sap oozed out from
around it, as small as a drop of blood, but it stank of rot. 
Bunching his muscular back legs, Draco leapt at the tree, claws digging into
the bark. He whipped his head forward, bitting the thorn with his small, sharp
front teeth, and yanked it out. The most foul taste flooded his mouth, his
whole body clenched, wanting to vomit and expel the vile taste, but he refused
to let go…
He was small with flesh hands and bare feet. He wore underwear and a shirt. It
was hot, even at night. He was in a room with several beds and a single light
above their heads. Other kids were there in similar clothes. One was crying in
the bed closest to the door. Two others were laughing and hitting each other
with pillows. A lady in a dark dress was shushing them, telling them to sleep.
There was a dark gloom around the edges of the room and he frowned at it. Had
that always been there?
A boy with dark skin, deep dark eyes, and short dreads flopped down at the end
of his bed. “Are you sick?” he asked.
“No,” he answered. He tilted his head and blond hair fell into his eyes. “Why?”
“You never laugh.” The boy put his head down his folded arms. “You smile and
stuff. You’re not like Tyson. He cries all the time ‘cause he misses his mommy.
You never had a mommy, right?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Then why don’t you laugh ever?”
“Roger, get into bed.” 
The lady was beside them now. She smacked the black boy’s bottom. Roger - with
a look of fear and pain on his face- scampered into the bed not even a foot
away from Draco’s and crawled under the thin cover. Draco stared up at the
lady. She had caramel skin and glossy black hair pulled back into a ponytail.
She - glared at him coldly. 
“Am I sick?” he asked her curiously.
She frowned and felt his forehead. “You don’t have a fever,” she dismissed and
moved on - leaving him feeling alone. No one would ever understand him because
he was different from all of them. “If I don’t hear silence in the next minute,
you’re all going to get a smack!”
Draco frowned as he realized the shadows in the corners were whispering. He
took a deep breath in. With his eyes pinned to that darkness, he blew as hard
as he could. A powerful gust of ice-cold air whipped around the room. It became
brighter, more in focus. 
The image of Roger’s pain-filled face after the lady smacked his bottom changed
into that of a giggling boy. She had barely tapped his butt. Her glare when
Draco had asked his childish question melted into one of simple tiredness. She
had touched his head gently when he had laid down, stroking his hair back from
his face, tucking him in… but that gentle part of the memory faded almost as
soon as he remembered it. The cold wind erasing it as it had the Dark Lord’s
influence…
The black-scaled creature fell from the tree and landed on his paws. He was
growling, anger pulsing through his blood. The poisonous thorns were altering
his memories! The Dark Lord had wanted him to feel isolated, wanted him to pull
away from others. He was different from the other kids, more serious and
watchful, but he wasn’t alone. He had a sense that there was a cost to cleaning
his mind of the Dark Lord’s manipulation, that he had to sacrifice something in
exchange, but he had no other choice. He didn’t care what it cost him; he had
to be free!
A deep growl of fury erupted from deep in his gut. His claws dug deep furrows
into the rich soil beneath him. An almost eerie glow appeared in his eyes.
Taking a deep breath, he took in the scent of the forest around him. Again he
smelled it, the faint hint of sickness on the air. 
Draco sprinted forward, every inch a predator. This time the putrid scent
wafted from deep within a bunch of ferns. The soft green, feather-like leaves
parted under his nose. There, in the middle, a thorn was embedded in a
withered, oily fern lying limp and flat along the ground. The soil around it
reeked of poison. Gagging, body tensed, he nonetheless snapped his jaws around
the fern, his stomach clenching, threatening to rebel, as he swallowed the leaf
whole, dirt and all…
Draco sat huddled in the corner of a small square space. A single lightbulb
hung above his head, but he’d been bad so he’d been denied light. It didn’t
matter. He could see the room around him even though he was blind; he’d been
stuck here for what felt like years, unable to leave.
A bare room so small he could almost reach out and touch both walls with his
arms extended. One door that was always locked. A small metal grate in the
floor. It smelled of piss and shit. It would until the bucket filled with soapy
water was given to him to wash himself and the room, rinsing the drain clean. 
It wasn’t cold or hot, but he shivered. It was quiet, always quiet. He used to
scream or talk or sing, just to hear a voice, any voice, even his own. He’d
even bounce himself off the walls like a ball just to be able to move, - but
he’d stopped doing any of that. He couldn’t do it anymore. What was the point? 
Suddenly the light turned on. Draco flung his arms over his face, his eyes
watering painfully. The door opened. Fresh air spilled into his space, but
Draco felt like choking because the monster was there. Standing in the doorway,
filling it with his wide body. He was tall, but the monster knelt so that he
wasn’t towering over him. Draco would rather he stay standing. As much distance
that he could get from the monster the better. 
“I missed you, baby,” the monster said, revealing himself to be a man, voice
sickly sweet. “Did you miss me?”
Draco said nothing. - He stared straight ahead through the man’s chest,
pretending he was still blind.- The smell of soap invaded his room as a bucket
full of water was placed inside. The man easily reached him, his long arm
stretching across the small room and grabbing hold of his leg. Draco was pulled
forward and set on his feet. He didn’t fight, didn’t move, as the man began to
sponge him off. 
“Such a pretty boy, you are. A good boy…” the man cooed. 
He said more of the same. Words spilling from his lips in a never-ceasing rain
as Draco’s body was touched and scrubbed. The man loved to wash between his
legs and his butt most of all. He’d rub and stroke with the sponge as well as
his bare hand. He’d tug on Draco's balls and tap at his hole. The man’s whole
face would get red when he did it. His mouth would part and he’d breathe heavy.
- During this, Draco stood silent. It used to make him cry, but now he was just
tired. What was the point in fighting? All he could do was endure and wait for
it to be over… 
Draco shook his head. Why was it so dark in here? The light was finally on. He
looked up and saw a gloom too deep to see through. Drawing in a harsh breath,
the man’s big hand kept rubbing at him as he muttered, “So goddamn pretty. So
soft!” Draco threw his head back and screamed…
The shadows burst apart as cold air exploded around him. The false emotions
were scraped clean, but the man’s face also blurred. Draco could no longer
remember it with the crystal clarity he’d had before. All he knew was that he
hadn’t stood there passive as the man groped and fondled him. He’d glared
tearfully, his mind racing as he eyed the space between the man and the door
frame. He had always watched! He’d always been ready! …
Thrashing his way free from the ferns, Draco staggered a few feet away. He
crouched, panting. Fuck Voldemort! Clearly he hadn’t wanted Draco to resist. He
wanted Draco passive and less likely to fight back. Well, fuck that! He would
NEVER stop fighting! 
Back then, during those three months he’d been trapped in that sicko’s closet,
he’d not once given in. It had felt more like years than months, but he had
never stopped testing the door, he’d never stopped hitting the walls, and he’d
definitely never stopped watching for a chance to escape. 
Howling like a wild thing, Draco leapt into a sprint and took off after the
next hint of poison. The smell was up high. Taking a running leap, claws
digging into the bark of a tree, he climbed with blinding speed. In seconds, he
was in the canopy, crouching on a thick branch. There, hanging in a web, sat a
fat spider. It glistened unnaturally; its body swollen grotesquely. Extra legs
grew from its head. It was dead and deformed, half rotten.
Draco’s eyes narrowed dangerously. He could barely force his jaws open. Bile
burned the back of his throat. His whip-cord tail lashed side-to-side.
Snarling, he snapped his jaws at the air. Spittle went flying. Then, before he
could chicken out, he lashed his head forward and swallowed the putrid thing
whole…
The master was drunk, but not so drunk that Draco would be able to bite and
kill the bastard. The man held his favorite whip. The one that cut Draco to the
bone with very little effort. If Draco got too close or made any sudden
movements, he’d bleed for it. Sitting on the wide bed, his back to the
headboard, the master’s eyes were half-lidded and glittered malevolently. His
shirt was open down the front, revealing his hairy chest. His pants were also
open. 
Draco tried not to look, but it was hard to miss the thick rod that stood up
against the man’s flabby belly. Draco wished the bastard would just fuck him
already so that he could kill him dead, but the master had bought Draco already
knowing about his strange “poison”. He never entered Draco with his own flesh.
Toys, on the other hand, were fair game.
“You’re going to do it, slut. Or I will, and I certainly won’t be gentle about
it,” the master taunted, his mouth curling into a mean grin. “Either way, I’m
going to have so much fun.”
Draco was on his hands and knees at the end of the bed, his body longways
across it so that the master faced his side. Pink silicone lay next to his left
hand. The dildo wasn’t the biggest thing the bastard had shoved into him, but
Draco had never been asked to do it himself before. 
He glared murderously. He was already covered in bruises and his shoulders
burned like fire from the last time the master had played with him. Cold hatred
saturated his brain, the room filled his eyes with almost painful clarity.
Sounds seemed muffled, but he could count each bead of sweat on the bastard’s
face. Shifting up on his knees, Draco wrapped his hands around the dick. His
fingers couldn’t quite meet around it. 
The motherfucker lashed his whip forward. Draco grit his teeth on a scream as
the bite of the leather seared a line of burning fire across his hip. Blood
spilled hot down his thigh and splattered onto the bed. The pain screamed
unending down his nerve-endings, forcing tears to flow down his pale cheeks. 
“Use that as lube.” 
Draco snarled, - but he obediently wet the toy with his blood. He lined the tip
up against his body and began to push. The feeling of being spread open wasn’t
foreign to him, but he was by no means used to it. He groaned. The pressure in
his guts as it speared him to the core always made him cry… 
Draco tossed his head hard to the side. No. That wasn’t right! He blew out a
shaky breath and a cold wind as cutting as a knife burst through the room. He
knew that as soon as that bastard had whipped him, as soon as Draco had seen
that sick light enter that fucker’s eyes, he’d known he wasn’t going to get any
mercy. He had bared his teeth and flung the toy right at the bastard’s face,
but the image of the dildo slapping the fucker on the cheek was torn from the
memory. 
What didn’t disappear was the remembered agony of his punishment as the furious
man whipped Draco with brutal precision, leaving ten bleeding lashes placed
from shoulder to hips that had split the skin of Draco’s back and wrapped
halfway around his chest so that he looked like a candy cane. Draco had been
left just on the edge of death, but he most definitely hadn’t performed for the
bastard and raped himself!
Falling from the tree as a black-scaled predator once more, he landed hard. His
legs collapsed under him as his body hit the ground with a heavy thud. He
hardly noticed. He was still caught up in the memory of being in the Hold, of
being a slave to human traffickers. 
For those fifteen hellish months, his existence had been focused on a single
purpose, survival, but he wouldn’t have just obediently followed along for some
false promise of mercy. He’d never been that naive!
The smell of Voldemort’s taint still drifted ominously on the air. For the
first time Draco really understood what his freedom would cost him. Long ago
he’d been pared down into something barely human. It wasn’t until Harry was
thrown into the Hold that he had remembered what it was to feel warm. Going
back again and again to the time before Harry would bring that mindset back. It
would turn some of his mental forest back into the blood-thirsty jungle once
more…
But he had no choice…
Not if he was going to be free. 
Not if he was going to save Harry.
…
It was dark in the room. The only light came from a single candle that
flickered gently on the currents in the air. The redheaded boy was sound
asleep, his bed curtains wide open and his blankets pulled down to the foot of
the bed despite the cold. He was curled on his side, knees drawn halfway up to
his chest, one arm folded close, the other out flung. He wore thick sleep pants
and a thin sweater. One foot was bare, the other wore a thick wool sock. He was
deeply asleep, soft breathing barely detectable. 
The boy’s body was sweet and pliant as he was stripped of his clothes. Thick
fingers reverently traced all the freckles that spread down the boy’s chest and
thighs. Greedy hands retreated only to return glistening with oil. The man
massaged it into the boy’s pale flesh, making the redhead’s inner thighs
glisten. Pushing the limp boy onto his side, the man climbed into bed behind
the boy and pressed up against his slender, naked back. 
Rock hard, the man’s dick rubbed against the boy’s ass and back, but he knew he
couldn’t fuck him. Not the way he wanted to. He’d learned his lesson, learned
to leave no evidence behind. He’d have to settle for the boy’s thighs. A warm,
damp rag would wash the evidence away later. The boy would never know. As much
as he missed the whimpers, the gasps, the way his first boy had squirmed and
cried, he knew he couldn’t afford to be caught.
It didn’t matter. The boy’s thighs were soft and warm. They made the perfect
passage when he braced his leg on top, forcing the boy’s thighs to squeeze
together. Tight and wet, it felt so damn good as he rutted into that forbidden
space. The redhead’s body rocked limply as the man’s languid thrusts became
harder, more violent. The slap of skin on skin was loud in the room. His balls
swung heavy, filling as heat coiled tight in his core. 
Hoarse grunts escaped the man’s tight throat as his eyes drifted across the
room. He locked on to the other boy he’d prepared. The dark-haired child was
naked, robe flung wide open, sprawled in the center of the bed with his legs
spread as wide as a whore’s. His arms were placed above his head, leaving his
torso stretched. The image of those legs incased in thigh-high stockings, his
perfect round ass covered in lace, sent him over the edge in a flash. 
He gripped the sleeping boy in his arms hard as came, spurting between the
redhead’s thighs and wetting the sheet. Shocks of pleasure sizzled under the
skin, but it wasn’t enough. The redhead only took the edge off and let him
think more clearly. He was still hard, even with cum dripping from his dick.
His true desire lay in the other bed, helpless and asleep, vulnerable. He
climbed out of the bed, leaving the redhead sprawled half on his stomach, half
on his side, soaked between his legs with oil and cum.
The man padded silently across the room. He stood at the side of the bed and
looked down at his true desire. He almost didn’t care what price he had to pay.
He wanted the boy with a burning passion. Last night, he’d jacked himself off
above the dark-haired boy, spelled his shirt gone and spread him out like the
whore he was. He’d never cum so hard, splattering the boy’s perfect skin. 
He knew the cost of touching the boy was high. He had been claimed and
collared, after all, and even though he was young, the little blond who owned
him was a force to be reckoned with. Of course, that only made the dark-haired
boy even more desirable, which seemed impossible since the boy was such a
gorgeous little whore all on his own.
Wild black hair, full pink lips, and slender with the delicious tendency to
wear thigh-highs, heels, and lace panties… He also had a white dragon lying
curled in a sleepy ball, embedded in the skin of the boy’s waist.
The man glared furiously even as his hands clenched. His first boy had been
taken from him. A blood-red snake had been tattooed at the base of his boy’s
spine just above the curve of his ass and had been filled with a Dark and
deadly magic. He’d known immediately he’d never be able to touch the boy
again. 
That same dangerous magic was contained in this dragon, but it was also
different. The snake had been a simple construct with the express purpose of
killing anyone who touched the boy with lustful hands. The dragon was clearly
far more complex, which left room for loop holes. Perhaps there was a way to
get around it and take what he so desperately needed. It would only be fair!
The snake had taken the only joy he had in his life. He deserved this after all
he’d suffered! 
Sweating, eyes glittering feverishly, he carefully reached out and touched the
dark-haired boy’s slender wrist. He was careful not to touch skin yet. He kept
his hand on the velvety material of the boy’s robe, the boy’s arms still inside
the sleeves. He watched the dragon like a hawk. Heart pounding, dick throbbing
as it stood rigid against his belly, the man slid his fingers down the boy’s
arm and over the curve of his shoulder. 
He was panting, almost cumming from this alone. He was so close to the boy’s
face that he could count every eyelash that rested against his cheeks. The
scent of the boy filled his nose. Lust burning deep in the pit of his stomach
and between his legs, he gasped as his fingers ran out of material. Trembling,
he let his fingertips drop onto the leather of the collar that ringed the boy’s
slender throat. His eyes darted down to the dragon and he froze. It still lay
peacefully still, but its dark green eyes were now open. 
His heart thundered in his chest with the pounding beat of a war drum. His eyes
darted up to the boy’s face, but the child still slept deeply, the man’s spell
holding true. Boldly, he ran his finger over the collar’s edge and onto the
warm skin of the boy’s throat. His breath caught and he stared down at the
dragon, but it didn’t move. It continued to lay curled up, eyes unblinking and
open.
Letting out a harsh breath, the man gave a feral grin. Less carefully now, he
reached for the boy’s robe-clad arm and pulled until the boy was just on the
edge of the bed. The movement made the boy’s legs close, but that was fine. He
was after something else tonight.
He repositioned the boy’s arms down by his sides this time. The arm nearest the
edge fell limply, hanging toward the floor as he pulled the boy’s head even
closer to the edge by a firm grip on the boy’s thick hair. The dragon’s head
weaved softly side to side as if hunting for something, but it couldn’t find
him, couldn’t see him. It was not primed to recognize sexual energy and attack
as the red snake had been. It had nothing to go off of with the boy unconscious
and unaware. Without the child’s fear or anger to guide it, the dragon was
harmless.
He released the child’s hair and gripped the base of his cock. His other hand
came up to pull the boy’s jaw down revealing little white teeth and a small
pink tongue. He pulled it open wider to see the dark red of the back of the
boy’s throat. Moaning at the sight, skin feeling on fire, he slid the tip of
his dick into the boy’s mouth. 
The soft scrape of the child’s teeth sent electricity down his nerves. He
carefully pressed forward, only half of his cock inside before hitting the back
of the boy’s throat. The man gasped as the boy swallowed reflexively, lips
briefly closing around him before falling slack once more. Drool began to pool
in the bottom corner of the boy’s mouth.
“Merlin,” the man moaned shamelessly. 
He grabbed the boy’s hair again to keep the kid’s head steady as he softly
glided along the boy’s tongue, pressed at the inside of his cheek, and tapped
at his soft palate. The room began to haze. He was sweating buckets. His thighs
began to shake. He couldn’t believe he was here, using the boy’s slack mouth.
He was so bloody close to exploding all over the little whore’s face… 
Why was he holding back? He didn’t have to be careful. The boy bloody deserved
it! He helped take away his first boy! He still remembered the feeling of
stretching his boy out around his fingers, the tightness and heat, the way the
boy got dripping wet with the sick he’d used before he pressed inside. 
The feeling of that tightness wrapped around his dick had felt like being
struck by lightning! He’d only gone halfway into the boy, afraid of hurting
him, but it had still be ecstasy! He could still feel the way his boy had
gripped him so tightly as he’d bounced his hips gently, gripping the base of
his dick to make sure he didn’t go in too far. He’d pressed inside the boy’s
helpless body over and over until he’d cum, fireworks exploding behind his
eyes… 
And that bliss had been stolen from him! He hadn’t been able to fuck anything
since, afraid to leave evidence, settling for slack hand jobs and the slicked
up thighs from the other boys he’d chosen. But tonight he’d get his revenge!
He’d finally take what he so desperately needed, what he rightfully deserved!
And it wasn’t like this little whore would even care! Dressing up like a girl,
getting fucked by the blond on the regular! He’d probably love taking the man
in, probably beg for it if he were awake…
Panting, almost mad with lust as he visualized the boy begging, tears in his
eyes, the man snapped his hips forward and this time didn’t stop at the soft
resistance at the back of the boy’s mouth. He pushed down the boy’s small
throat and it closed around him, wet and constricting, tightening as the boy
swallowed. 
It felt better than anything he’d ever felt since taking his first boy’s ass
and he let out a wild yell, his eyes rolling up in the back of his head. He
pulled out, the boy making a small gasping sound before the man snapped his
hips forward, pushing down the boy’s throat again. 
Something in the man snapped completely. He growled, wild and vicious, as his
hands clenched harder in the boy’s hair. He fucked the boy’s throat with
abandon, battering the boy’s lips with his hips. The whore’s face turned pink
as he was denied oxygen, his eyelids flickering as his hands helplessly
twitched. 
His hips slapped into the boy’s face at a rapid pace as he never fully pulled
out of the tight heat constricting around his dick before slamming forward
again. Shallow and fast, he thrust again and again, fascinated with the outline
of his dick stretching the boy’s throat. He could even feel the bloody collar!
Holding that throat even tighter around him just at the tip of his cock!
In only a few minutes, the end was rushing up, roaring over him like a steam
train. He looked down to see where he was impaling the boy’s throat and saw the
dragon rushing up the skin of the boy’s neck, its jaws open in a silent roar,
eyes glittering with the promise of death. 
With a scream, he stumbled back, falling on his ass. As he fell, he spurt a
fountain of cum into the air, splattering the boy’s face, the bed, the floor.
Heart tearing through his chest in a mixture of ecstasy and terror, he watched
in horror as the dragon’s head lifted off the skin of the boy’s jaw,
transforming from ink into real-life white-metal scales and glittering teeth. 
The dragon snarled with the sound of a hissing rattlesnake, wings stiff and
half raised along its back, covering the boy’s cheek and the top part of the
boy’s neck. The man looked into the miniature dragon’s eyes and saw his own
death. It looked right into him before sinking down, becoming an inked tattoo
once again. 
Trembling in relief, he felt his cock spurt a few more times on his trembling
thighs before slowly softening. He laughed nervously, still catching his
breath. Now that the threat of death had disappeared, he stared enraptured at
the boy’s wrecked face. 
There were a few strands of cum in the whore’s dark hair, across the bridge of
his nose, and dripping from his chin. His lips were swollen twice their size
and already darkening with bruises, a deep plum red. The boy was still sound
asleep, panting softly and offering a weak cough every few minutes. Tears had
slipped free of his closed eyes, beading on his lashes and rolling sideways to
wet the sheet that was already soaked with drool.
Getting to his feet, feeling like a god, he strutted to the bedside table and
grabbed the camera he’d left there. He took a picture of the dark-haired boy’s
face, making sure to get nice and close. He also took a picture of the
redhead’s glistening thighs. He already had quite a few of the redhead in his
stash, but this would be a nice addition. 
Satisfied and humming, he cast a spell to wet a rag with warm water. Almost
reverently he cleaned the boys, the beds, and the floor. Once he was satisfied
that all the evidence was gone, he dressed the redhead and carelessly covered
him with his blankets. He didn’t bother putting a shirt back on the dark-haired
boy. Like he’d said, the boy was a whore; that morning he hadn’t even
questioned waking up naked, so he needed no special attention. 
The man almost didn’t bother healing his mouth, either, the boy looking like a
gorgeous doll, lips red with lipstick, but he knew his first boy would become
suspicious, so he traced his wand over those succulent lips, casting a basic
healing charm. Once that was done, he pulled the blankets back over the boy. 
The two boys slept on oblivious, all traces of his victory erased.
…
Narcissa opened fevered eyes to a darkened room. She’d been in and out of
consciousness for a whole day, but she was beginning to feel a little more
coherent. She was in the guest room she favored in the east wing. The idea of
going back to the master bedroom that she shared with Lucius made her stomach
roll uneasily. 
“Lottie,” she called, voice hoarse and weak.
The elf appeared as promptly as ever, but it didn’t call her master. “Yes, Lady
Narcissa?”
“Warm broth and some water.”
The elf disappeared with a small bow.
While Narcissa waited, she propped herself up on her pillows so that she was
sitting more than reclining. Her hair hung in a thick braid over her shoulder
and into her lap. She wore a loose cotton nightgown and had the blankets folded
over her lap. A gentle fire burned in the fireplace, helping to keep the room
at a warm temperature. She was as comfortable as she could make herself. 
Her head ached, but it was no longer pounding as if a gnome with a hammer were
banging away in there, and her magical core still felt raw and flared every so
often, unstable, but the dizzy spells had past and she no longer shook. As for
her status in the House of Malfoy, she was still Lucius’s wife. Magically,
however, she was no longer recognized by Lucius’s magic or by the manor as his
wife. The marital bond between them had been blocked, but it hadn’t been
severed completely. Not yet. It would take a full divorce to sever their
marriage completely, and divorce was deeply shameful in Pureblood circles, so
she was fairly confident Lucius wouldn’t want to go that far.
Part of her understood his actions. He’d had to do it. To protect the manor and
their son from Bellatrix, he had to block her access to the wards. She
understood why Lucius had to do it, but it was how he had done it that had
shocked her. 
He hadn’t given her any time to recover from his clumsy mental assault and a
broken Obliviate barrier. He hadn’t given her a potion to soften the blow of
having the Malfoy wards and magic stripped from her. He’d been as brutal as he
could be. Then to add insult to injury, he’d marked her as a ward under his
care. That made the wards protect her, sure, but it also made them monitor her
movements. It would also keep her from leaving without his permission. 
On one hand, that told Narcissa that Lucius feared she’d run from him for the
way he’d so disgracefully treated her and he did not want her to leave. On the
other hand, it showed his utter contempt, that he thought of her as a child to
manage. It hurt her terribly. 
Lucius and she had gone beyond the traditional Pureblood marriage where there
was no stepping outside of the roles placed on them by society. They had
honestly loved each other, had suffered the same heartbreak at the loss of
their son, and had taken care of each other. He’d trusted her judgement in many
areas. He’d treated her as an equal. 
Lottie returned with the warm broth and glass of water. The little elf summoned
a lap tray so that she could remain in bed and Narcissa ate with shaking hands.
She hardly finished half of the bowl before she grew too tired to continue. 
Tears burned her eyes. She had never expected for Lucius to actually treat her
with such cruelty. He had every right to be furious and hurt, but Draco was her
son, too! She felt just as betrayed! She’d extended Bellatrix a promise of
protection out of love, and in return her sister had hurt her more terribly
than anyone else ever could. Lucius had to know that she would give anything,
sacrifice anything, for Draco! 
“Take it away and leave me,” she ordered the patiently waiting elf.
Lottie obeyed with another bow, taking the dishes and disappearing with a pop. 
Narcissa weakly removed the pillows from behind her and lay down. She
considered her options. 
First, there was something about Bellatrix’s escape that still bothered her.
Why did Bella wait until now to leave? For what had she needed the Solstice?
The thought of seeing her husband filled her with fear, but she would not let
fear rule her! She would see Lucius, and she would get her answers.
Second, she’d have to find her sister. Bellatrix was her mistake. She wouldn’t
be able to live with herself if Bella was able to inflict any more hurt on her
son. Narcissa would have to find Bellatrix, and she’d have to kill her. She no
longer entertained a hope of redemption and healing. The promises between them
were void. There was too much damage now to be forgiven.
Narcissa stared up at the ceiling and sighed, frustrated and hurt. Her fist hit
the bed next to her and she impatiently wiped at her tears with her other hand.
Tomorrow, recovered or not, she’d confront Lucius and get permission to leave
the estate. She had things to do and a son to protect. She was done playing
nice.
Chapter end
A/N:A very intense chapter. Very tragic. I am open to anyone’s thoughts on the
contents of this chapter. It is desperately sad how many people have
experienced rape and domestic violence.
***** Remorse *****
Remorse
Harry woke all at once with a gasp of air. Immediately tears sprung to his eyes
and he grabbed at his throat. It felt like he’d swallowed fire. Ron snored
softly in the other bed. Harry considered shaking his foot to wake him, but he
decided against it. He had no idea what time the redhead had come to bed and it
was technically vacation, so with a grimace he crawled out of bed and quickly
dressed. The sun was just rising, brightening the room with gentle light as he
slipped out of the room and quietly shut the door behind him. No one was in the
common room, so he made his way to the infirmary alone. 
Draco lay alone in the room lined with small white beds. Harry’s boot heels
clicked quietly on the floor as he made his way to the blond’s side. Draco’s
expression was peaceful. There was no blood dripping from his nose, no sense of
distress or need and Harry’s shoulders relaxed. He gently stroked his
fingertips over Draco’s forehead and let his magic trickle down through his
touch. 
Madam Pomfrey arrived at that point and she gave him a stern look. “You’re here
rather early, Mr. Potter. I give you my word I will alert you to any change in
his condition, so I’d rather you made sure you got enough rest.”
“Yes, Madam,” he replied, ducking his head submissively. His voice sounded
wrecked, hardly above a whisper and extremely hoarse. 
Madam Pomfrey’s eyes went wide. “Are you ill, Mr. Potter?” She didn’t wait for
a response, gesturing him over to the bed next to Draco’s. “Hop up now. Let me
get a reading.”
Harry obeyed, sitting still as she took her wand out and waved it over him. She
was just finishing when the infirmary doors opened and Dumbledore entered with
Andromeda and Ted in tow.
“Harry!” Andromeda rushed to his side. “What has happened? Why didn’t Narcissa
contact me?” She looked both worried and furious as she stroked his hair once
before crossing the distance to Draco’s bed. She bent over him, resting her
hand over his brow. “What’s his condition?” she demanded of the nurse.
Ted came to stand beside her. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and gave
Harry a reassuring smile, his blue eyes as warm as ever.
“He’s in a magically induced coma,” Madam Pomfrey explained, folding her hands
in front of her over her white apron. “He and Harry were outside on the
Solstice and were caught up in some fae magic.” Disapproval shaded her tone,
her eyes cutting to Dumbledore. “At this point, I am only able to monitor Mr.
Malfoy’s condition. He will have to awaken on his own.”
Andromeda frowned fiercely at the witch. The nurse was clearly more on the
Christian side of the spectrum and did not approve of anything relating to the
Wild ways. She looked to Harry for a more accurate accounting. “Harry?”
“Winter came to us,” he croaked painfully.
“His throat is inflamed,” Madam Pomfrey explained. “He drained his magic
dangerously low yesterday afternoon and that can weaken the immune system. Let
me get him an anti-inflammatory potion and an immune booster. It is likely a
precursor to a cold.”
“It’s not Dragon Pox?” Ted asked in concern. He stepped away from Andromeda to
place himself protectively at his ward’s side. The magical community had lost
too many people to the Pox.
“No, there were no contagions in his blood,” Madam Pomfrey reassured him with a
smile. She turned to Dumbledore. “Help me with the potions, Headmaster.”
Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “We will be but a moment. Feel free to stay with
the boys for as long as you’d like,” he invited before following the nurse from
the room.
Madam Pomfrey shut the door to the potions room firmly behind Dumbledore. She
glared up at him. “I don’t approve of this at all, Headmaster. They need to
know what I witnessed. The Malfoys should also be informed.”
“It was an innocent kiss,” Dumbledore said gently, trying to soothe her. 
“There was more to it than that!” Madam Pomfrey’s face was flushed red and she
nervously smoothed the hair that was already pulled back into a bun. She took a
deep breath. “I understand they are bonded, Albus, but it can’t be allowed to
go too far. You know that. To even remotely promote feelings of a sexual nature
between them is reprehensible! Something should be done!”
Dumbledore’s cheerful expression took a more stern cast. “Mr. Malfoy was
suffering a decline that you were unable to prevent. It is even possible the
boy would have died under your care had it been left to continue. Miraculously,
Mr. Potter was able to heal him. Is that not correct?”
Madam Pomfrey’s eyes went wide with horror at the thought of an innocent child
dying in her ward. “Yes, but…”
“The boys are too young to accuse them of inappropriate behaviors,” he scolded
her. “In any case, we have no knowledge of how their guardians would react to
such an accusation. Are you willing to bare full responsibility for any action
they may take?”
She looked away with a sense of guilt. There had been times in the past where
they’d had to report to parents that their teenagers had been caught being
promiscuous. The children had not fared well, punished to an excessive degree
that made Madam Pomfrey deeply unhappy and had forever altered the child.
She understood that their society lived by very strict rules, especially the
higher class. Sexual purity in both boys and girls was to be maintained until
marriage. Bastard children were completely unacceptable to a people who prized
blood-line purity above all else, but she did not agree with the more heavy-
handed actions of some of the more traditional Pureblood parents. It was only
natural for teenagers to be curious, after all.
As bad as promiscuity was seen in the eyes of the traditional Purebloods, it
couldn’t even compare to the abhorrence of same-sex dalliances. She shivered to
think of what Lord Malfoy would do to the children if he suspected their love
for each other was sexual in nature.
“I have heard talk of same-sex pairs becoming more accepted in the Muggle
world,” Dumbledore said softly, drawing her attention once more. He was staring
at the potions lined neatly in her cabinet. “There are some even in the magical
world who believe that it is only natural for a select few to be of that
nature. They say magic wills as it wills.”
“So it was believed hundreds of years ago, back when we participated in human
and animal sacrifices and kept slaves,” Madam Pomfrey snapped. She opened the
cabinet and took two potions from the shelves. She gave him a stern look. “The
morals of the Church have ensured magic stays pure and good and not corrupted
by Evil. It states clearly that such a union is born from Evil and will beget
more Evil.”
Dumbledore lifted an eyebrow as he met her eyes evenly. “I know my catechism,
Poppy.”
She flushed. “Yes, of course. I did not meant to imply otherwise. I certainly
don’t begin to understand the Muggles and their ideas.” She straightened her
shoulders. “I will refrain from informing their guardians of Mr. Potter’s
actions, but if another such instance occurs, I will have to say something,
Albus. For the children’s sake.”
Dumbledore bowed his head. “I leave that to your good sense, Madam.” 
She nodded back distractedly and left the room to return to her patients. 
Ted and Andromeda were talking softly with Harry, the boy whispering so as not
to hurt his throat too much. Ted was a big man with a rounding gut. His yellow-
blond hair fell over his forehead, thick and healthy. His blue eyes were bright
with both kindness and intelligence. He looked almost Muggle in the casual
sweater and jacket he wore, paired with common slacks and boots. Andromeda on
the other hand had dark brown hair that she left to fall untraditionally freely
around her shoulders and down her back. She wore a long-sleeved dress with a
full skirt that was completely acceptable by wizarding standards. 
They were an odd pair, but they clearly cared for both children under their
care. Surely they would steer the boys from the evil temptations. She certainly
couldn’t count on the Malfoys to do the same; they had clearly come to
celebrate the Darkest night of the year with the children instead of teaching
them to ward against it by preparing for the celebration of the birth of the
Lord of the Light.
Madam Pomfrey gave the two parents a warm smile before she gave both potions to
Mr. Potter. He swallowed them obediently without complaint even though they
most assuredly tasted foul and then continued his story. Pomfrey listened again
to the end of Harry’s tale of dancing with a Winter fairy and being told that
Draco was undergoing a trial. 
“We should pray for his soul,” Madam Pomfrey said gently, casting a worried
glance at the boy in the bed. “It is in the nature of Light to forever cut
through Darkness and make it flee. Our prayers should do the same.”
Andromeda’s expression bore a shadow of a frown as she looked over at the
nurse, and Dumbledore stepped in before words could be said.
“As Lady Malfoy was on the scene during the emergency, she legally had the
right to make decisions regarding Draco and Harry’s care. She decided that the
boys will stay here as it is quiet and secure until winter break is over,”
Dumbledore informed them, eyes twinkling once again. “Is that acceptable to
you?”
“Narcissa thinks taking him away from the ritual site might hurt Draco,” Harry
added solemnly. His voice already sounded better, only a little raspy.
“Very well,” Andromeda very reluctantly agreed. “I would not want to worsen his
condition by taking him away.” She slanted a pointed look at the nurse. “And I
trust Harry’s accounting. If Winter promised to return Draco, then I will put
my faith in that.”
Pomfrey’s eyes widened, surprised by the remark. 
“I do not want any more occurrences, Headmaster,” Andromeda added, hazel eyes
flashing as she met the old wizard’s twinkling blue eyes over Harry’s head.
“I’ll take care of Draco,” Harry promised earnestly, looking up at her.
Andromeda melted and wrapped him in a brief hug. “I know you will, sweetie. I’m
glad you are alright. I was really worried when I received Dumbledore’s
notification.” She smoothed his hair down, trying to tame it, and smiled into
his eyes. “Why do such things always happen to you two?”
“Please be more prompt and thorough with your letters home,” Ted added,
scolding the boy lightly. “You promised to keep us updated with your situation
here.”
“Sorry, Ted.” Harry reached out and Ted easily took his hand in his larger one.
“I understand you’ve been preoccupied, son,” Ted reassured him, giving the
small hand in his own a gentle squeeze. “Please do make the effort, though.”
“I will,” Harry promised.
As Dumbledore invited them to have breakfast with Harry in the Great Hall,
Harry’s attention had returned to Draco. He reached under the blond’s collar
and pulled out the necklace with the charmed coin. Very gently, he lifted it
over Draco’s head and put it around his own neck. 
He was ashamed it had taken him so long to think of it, but Draco had a mission
and Harry was determined to see it through in Draco’s stead. The adults didn’t
understand the significance of the necklace, so no comments or questions were
asked. With a sweet smile, Harry took Ted’s hand again and led the way to the
Great Hall.
…
The Tonkses left shortly after breakfast. The Weasley brothers had arrived just
as they were preparing to leave and Andromeda visibly relaxed, knowing that
Harry was not alone or friendless in the castle. She kissed Harry’s cheek and
left feeling more at ease. 
Harry waited for the Weasleys to finish eating and decide what they were doing
for the day. Percy had some correspondence to take care of and the twins were
already whispering together, so Ron suggested they visit Hagrid. 
Together they went back up to the Tower to grab their warmest robes. The sun
was bright in the sky, but there was at least a foot of snow on the ground, put
there by the winter storm on the Solstice. They smiled as their feet crunched
through the perfect white fluff as they made the trek down to the Grounds
Keeper’s cabin. 
They weren’t even halfway to Hagrid’s when they spotted the half-giant heading
toward the forest. He had a lantern in his hand and wore an enormous satchel
across his chest that was filled with something lumpy. Fang trotted at his
heels. 
Ron called out, waving his arm. 
Hagrid stopped and turned, and they saw that he wore a dark expression.
“What’s wrong? What’s happened?” Ron asked, worried.
“Nothin’ to concern yerselves with,” Hagrid answered, unusually brusk. “Now’s
not a good day to visit. Go on back to the castle now. Off w’ya.”
“Hagrid.” Harry met the man’s dark eyes boldly. “We can help you.”
Hagrid sighed, his hard expression melting into one of sorrow. Tears glittered
in his eyes. “I suppose’n you could at tha’. Alright. Stay with me now.”
Ron was suddenly reluctant. He refused to let anything happen to the smaller
boy. He’d failed spectacularly already this year, but Draco was absolutely
correct. It wasn’t going to happen again. He gave Harry a worried glance, but
Harry’s shoulders were set, his eyes full of determination. Sighing, Ron got
his wand out and held it down by his thigh. He trailed after the two, alert to
anything that could be dangerous and recited in his mind the most effective
defensive spells he knew.
Oblivious to Ron’s concern, Hagrid led them deep into the forest. It was mid-
morning, going on noon, but it was dark and shadowed under the forest’s canopy.
Hagrid’s lantern cast light over the ground in front of them, allowing them to
walk safely. Instead of bounding off and investigating, Fang stayed close to
them, ears perked and head lowered. 
It took them almost an hour before they came upon it. Ron gasped softly, his
hand tightening around his wand. Harry stood frozen, horror filling his eyes
with guilty tears that rolled down his pale cheeks. Hagrid knelt down slowly,
head bowed, while Fang gave a low mournful howl.
The corpse was mangled. Chunks of white flesh and dark muscles had been torn
from its neck, side, and abdomen. Silver blood had soaked into the ground, and
the snow melted as soon as it touched it. The blood left a wide circle of
uncovered decaying soil, killing the plants in the vicinity. Horrifically, the
unicorn’s hair still shimmered in the light of the dappled sunlight. Still
breathtakingly beautiful, the golden horn still had a soft sparkle, but the
unicorn’s eyes were wide open and dark, devoid of life. A stillness hung over
the body, chilling the boys to the core.
“It’s the third one,” Hagrid said, voice low and rough. “Don’t know wha’ could
be doin' it. Not many things will attack a unicorn. An’ I don’ know of anythin’
with a mouth that small. Was a vicious thing though, almost bit her to th’
bone.”
Harry felt sick, the phantom memory of blood and flesh in his mouth, the
screams of a horse, competed with the ghostly remembrance of Draco biting him
all over this body, claiming and punishing. The duel sensations made Harry
break out into a sweat and he wrapped his arms tightly around his chest. 
Hagrid reached into his satchel and brought out fistfuls of dried sage.
Tearfully, he explained, “To try an’ purify this place.”
After a moment, Ron moved to help, covering the body and the ground with
Hagrid’s dried herbs. The smell of something like mint but with a more earthy
aroma began to slowly surround them. It was clean and pure, and some of the
darkness of this place lost its hold. 
Harry forced his arms to uncross and took his wand from his pocket. His voice
lifted, soft with sorrow as he began to cast, “Mai fod y ddaear dda yn feddal o
danoch chi…” His voice rang reverent and clear. “May the good earth be soft
under you when you rest upon it…” 
Ron looked up at Harry from his knees, sage in his hands. The spell and prayer
reached deep inside his heart and tears spilled freely down his cheeks. 
“Ótan stirízetai se aftó boreí na eínai éfkolo na sas xekourásei… May it rest
easy over you…”
Hagrid wept huge tears. His hands scattered the sage until the unicorn was
completely covered.
Harry’s wand dipped and swayed, graceful and light. He poured his heart into
the funeral prayer. “Ar an gcéad uair a leagann tú faoi… At the last you lay
out under it…” 
Ron had never been to a funeral, at least not when he was old enough to
remember, thank Merlin, but something in him yearned to join Harry. He lifted
his wand, pointing just above the sage-covered body. He felt his core respond,
felt magic leave him on a sigh.
“E pode descansar tan suavemente sobre ti que a túa alma pode quedar fóra de
debaixo dela rapidamente…” Harry’s wand tip spiraled, gentle circles stirring
the air around them. A cold, cleansing wind gently tugged at their robes and
hair, and yet, the sage stayed as if glued to the ground and body where it had
been placed. “And may it rest so lightly over you that your soul may be out
from under it quickly…” 
Ron and Hagrid felt the forest respond, felt their magic join Harry’s. Green
sprouts began to push through the tainted dirt where innocent blood had
spilled. They grew with slow grace. Bright green leaves and dark green, they
created a bed for the unicorn to lay on.
“Agus suas agus as… And up and off…” Harry finished in a whisper, casting his
wand forward and up as if to point the spirit of the unicorn to the sky.
Ron’s breath caught while Hagrid made a soft sound of awe. Purple bell-like
flowers with white and yellow at their heart began to bloom with the soft
opening of sleepy eyes among the green leaves around the base of the unicorn’s
body. Thick stalks grew tall and thick at least three feet into the air. Little
flowers with white skirts bloomed in a thick bunch along the top of each,
blocking the body from view behind their sheltering screen.
Ron wrapped his arms around his friend as Harry’s wand dropped limply to his
side. Harry leaned heavily into his side, clearly exhausted, but the feeling of
evil had dispersed. The body of the murdered unicorn was gone and in its place
was a garden of surpassing beauty that miraculously existed in spite of the
snow and cold of winter. 
“Morning glories and acanthus,” Hagrid murmured. He gave Harry a beautiful
smile. “Thank ya, Harry. That was beautiful.”
Harry couldn’t bring himself to smile, but he nodded his head. “It was only
possible because you brought the sage, Hagrid.” He looked up at his friend. His
throat felt tight with grief and regret. “Thank you for coming to put her to
rest.” He gestured at the flowers. “They wouldn’t have bloomed if she was still
hurting. She can stop crying now.”
Hagrid put his large heavy hands gently on the two boys’ shoulders. They stood
there for a few minutes more before Hagrid cleared his throat and lifted his
lamp. His satchel now hung empty at his hip. “We best be off. It’s too cold to
be standin’ around.”
Ron and Harry walked silently in Hagrid’s wake, following him out of the forest
and back into the sunshine. Ron knew he wouldn’t speak of this with his
brothers. Not because he wanted to keep it secret, but because there were no
words to describe how equally horrific and beautiful the experience had been. 
Looking over at his friend, Ron took Harry’s hand in his own. He had always
known Harry was special, but it wasn’t because of a scar on his forehead or a
Dark Wizard. Harry was special because he was magic in the way of Solstice
festivals and dark woods, and Ron felt a more powerful urge to protect him than
ever before.
They stayed with Hagrid for the rest of the afternoon. It was spent pleasurably
as they listened to the giant man coo at his egg that was still bundled up next
to the roaring fire. Hagrid told them, excitement and love in his eyes, that
he’d seen it move and rock a few times. 
“Might not be long now,” he boomed joyfully, running a fingertip over the hot
shell. “Dependin’ on the breed, it could be born in as soon as a week The
Northern breeds take longer, the harsh winters would kill a hatchlin’ right
quick, but the Southern breeds have been known to hatch sooner. Gives ‘em more
time to get strong enough to hunt fer food on their own durin’ summer and
autumn. They got to be big an’ strong ‘nough to survive their first winter, ya
know. Dragon mama’s aren’t much for coddlin’ their young. Believe in tough
love, they do.”
Ron and Harry shared a smile and took turns making guesses about what the baby
would look like and how soon it would take for it to catch Hagrid’s beard on
fire. Of course, it wasn’t even certain it was a fire-breather, but the thought
made them all laugh.
“Did you have fun with Hagrid?” Percy asked as they all met up for dinner.
Ron and Harry shared a look, answering in unison, “Yes.”
Fred and George gave them a suspicious look, but neither of the boys would
elaborate. Fortunately, Hedwig chose that moment to fly in and land in front of
Harry. She had a letter tied to her leg. Harry cooed at her and made a big
fuss. He stroked her feathers and fed her some meat, apologizing for not
visiting her more often and thanking her for her hard work. Hedwig preened
under his attention, feathers ruffled in pleasure, eyes heavy-lidded, making
Percy chuckle.
“Who’s it from?” Ron asked, mouth full of mashed potatoes. 
Harry was tempted to tell him that it wasn’t polite to speak with your mouth
full, Narcissa and Andromeda’s voices echoing in his head, but he let it go.
Ron seemed immune to all attempts to teach him manners, so Harry said nothing
and looked at the handwriting on the envelope. 
“Remus,” he recognized happily, but then he remembered the last letter Draco
had sent their oldest friend. 
It had been two weeks ago and had been about the Stone. Harry shoved the letter
into his pocket unopened. Percy and the twins didn’t know about the Stone or
their mission to stop it from being stolen. He smiled and finished dinner as if
the letter wasn’t burning a hole in his pocket, but he stood when desert
appeared on the table. 
“I’m going to check on Draco and call it a night early,” he told them. Truth be
told, he was pretty tired from the ritual in the forest. 
Ron looked mournfully at the cakes and pies, but he stood to go with his
friend. “I’ll go with you.”
Percy and the twins thought nothing of it and let the two boys go off on their
own. Draco was still sleeping with they got to the Infirmary. Harry again
brushed his fingertips over Draco’s forehead and bathed him with his magic. Ron
guided him away before Pomfrey could scold them. 
“So what’s the letter about?” he asked as they changed into their sleep clothes
and got ready for bed.
Harry gave Ron a smile, amused that his friend hadn’t been fooled by his casual
act. “Let’s find out.” He sat on the edge of his bed, Ron sitting next to him,
and opened the letter.
Dear Draco,
I deeply regret not writing to you sooner. I have been buried in a few research
projects as of late. One of which was why I left my sickbed while I was
indisposed after Samhain. I do not have clear memories of the night, but I was
greatly distressed that I wandered around during my fever. I did some research
into the topic, even contacted a few friends overseas. They had some
interesting theories regarding my sleepwalking.
Now, regarding the information you requested, I found out what you wanted to
know. It’s too complicated to review in a letter, but since it’s Yule break why
don’t you ask the Headmaster if you could stop by my cottage for tea. We can
catch up and you can tell me about school.
Looking forward to your visit,
Remus
Harry looked over at Ron with a grin. “He knows how to destroy the Stone.”
Ron’s face lit up with excitement. “That’s great! Wanna go tomorrow?”
Harry nodded, folding the letter up. He went to the desk and tucked the letter
inside to share with Draco later before turning back to Ron. The idea of
sleeping alone made him feel unsettled somehow, Draco’s absence a void, so he
asked, “Want to sleep with me?” 
Ron shrugged. “Sure.” He grew up in a house with seven siblings. Sharing a bed
was not unusual or uncommon. 
He was about to get under the covers with his friend when a squeak sounded
through the door. Ron got up to open it. A fat, greying rat looked up at him,
whiskers twitching. “Scabbers!” Ron smiled as he picked up his pet. “Where’ve
you been all day? You’re usually back by now.” 
The rat chittered and squeaked in answer, rubbing his soft cheek against Ron’s
fingers, making the redhead smile.
Petting him gently, Ron carried Scabbers to the box filled with rags that he’d
made into a soft bed. He set the rat gently inside and retrieved a few pieces
of cheese that he kept in a bag just for his pet. “There you go.” He stroked
the rat’s back one last time before he hurried over the cold stone floor and
jumped back into bed with Harry. 
Harry giggled as he bounced with the force of Ron’s landing, and Ron shoved him
playfully on the shoulder. “Go to sleep, Harry. I know you’re tired.”
Harry nodded, a yawn stretching his face briefly. “Night, Ron.” He turned on
his side so that he was facing his friend and closed his eyes. 
“Night, Harry,” Ron answered, turning off the lamp that sat on the bedside
table.
…
The man hadn’t thought to put the two boys together. It was fucking brilliant
though! He’d been thinking about this all bloody day, his balls aching. He
spelled the boys into a deep, dreamless sleep and got them both ready. First
thing he did was strip them both naked. Then he raided the brunet’s armoire. 
The dark-haired child lay plaint and sleep heavy as he carefully lifted each
slender leg one at a time and slid the white, silk stockings up his legs. The
silk went up a few inches past the boy’s knees, framing delicious slender
thighs that were only just beginning to grow taunt with muscle. 
The man panted over the boy, already rock hard. He stared obsessively at the
soft skin framed by white silk. Almost drooling, he grabbed the boy’s thighs
with each hand, his thumb digging in as he pulled them wide open. The little
whore was remarkably flexible, more so than the other boys he’d played with,
including the redhead that slept oblivious at the brunet’s side. 
Releasing the boy’s legs, he took up the small, white lace panties. He placed
each stocking-covered foot through the leg holes and slid them up the boy’s
legs. He had to lift the kid by the thigh high enough that his ass was off the
bed to get them all the way on. 
The panties were small and tight with a barely there bulge between his legs.
Rolling him over carelessly, the man groaned at the sight of that small round
butt, the cheeks half covered by lace. That pert little ass, those slender legs
encased in silk, thighs bare, lying on his stomach completely vulnerable and
spread like a bitch in heat, he was a too excited and began to fist his cock at
a furious pace, unable to contain himself. 
He leaned over the boy. His hand pressed deep into the mattress beside the
messy head of black hair. The kid’s head tilted toward the depression and he
imagined the pretty whore leaning in, begging to be touched. It took only a few
minutes of grunting and groaning before he spurt all over that long, naked
back. 
The white dragon paced restlessly under the boy’s cum-spattered skin, clearly
uneasy and on guard, but unable to act. The man laughed out right. As he caught
his breath, he lifted the little corset he’d found. 
He rolled the boy over, pressed it against the kid’s front and rolled him back
onto his stomach. He brought the two ends together and began to do up the
laces. He was gentle at first, but once he had it on, he began to yank with
brutal force, cinching the child’s waist as small as it could go, and it was
fucking tiny!
The boy’s breathing became soft little, breathless gasps that had the man
leaking. Eyes wide, pupils huge, he rolled the boy over onto his back and
pulled so that the edge of the bed caught the boy under his knees. With
trembling fingers, he pressed those silk clad knees open as far as the bed
allowed them, stocking toes just barely brushing the ground. The whore was a
bloody masterpiece!
Two spots of color had appeared on the boy’s cheeks. His pink lips had parted
to get in more air, his breathing shallow and light, faster than normal,
mimicking arousal. The corset sat just under the kid’s chest and bound the
ribs. Two pink nipples sat above the material and the man flicked them hard,
making them pebble. 
He pulled on those small nubs, tugging restlessly, as his eyes remained fixated
with that tiny waist. The corset made the kid’s hips look wider, like a girl’s.
Breathless, he left off twisting the whore’s nipples and wrapped his hands
around that tiny waist. He moaned, low and hungry, his thumbs only an inch and
a half away from touching. The tight lace panties that held the kid’s small
junk so tightly only enhanced the illusion that he was looking at a little
girl, not a boy.
“Merlin,” he groaned, grateful tears in his eyes. 
He wasn’t a pervert. He didn’t prefer boys and definitely would never fuck a
man, but he was desperate, forced to sate his needs on the boys he had access
to. Really there wasn’t much difference between a girl and a boy if the kid was
young enough anyway, he’d told himself, and eventually it had stopped mattering
as he chased after that moment of perfect pleasure again and again. But now…
seeing the image of a dark-haired girl laid out on the bed… he felt a red
curtain of lust fall over him like never before. 
His heart boomed in his ears, his pulse pounding in his throat. He fell on the
girl’s swollen nipples, ravenous, and sucked as if his life depended on it.
Sucked until his spit slicked the girl’s chest, soaked into the top of the
corset, and slid down her sides to dampen the bed beneath her. He sucked until
the girl’s nipples were round and fat, her breasts swollen into the soft mounds
of a girl on the cusp of becoming a true woman. 
He scrambled to get his camera and took several pictures, thrilling in the red
and blue bruises that were beginning to form along the girl’s small chest.
Tears of awe streaking his face, the man carelessly dropped the camera onto the
bed and brushed his hand over his cock. It was so rigid and slick with pre-cum
that it almost hurt to touch. 
“I’m gonna fuck you good, sweetie,” he promised his sweet girl, almost
delirious with lust.
Roughly, he pulled the redheaded boy so that he was lying with his head falling
over the edge of the mattress, his slack mouth open, his face upside down. More
carefully his scooped his little girl up into his arms bridal style, her head
resting limply against the crook of his neck and shoulder. He laid her down on
top of the other boy, face up. He wasn’t done with those sweet, tiny breasts. 
As she settled on the boy underneath her, her head tipped back, falling between
the redhead’s legs, her long throat extended and vulnerable and obscuring her
face slightly. The man imagined her tossing her head back in passion, offering
more of herself to be devoured. She was still making those quick gasping
noises, hardly able to breathe around the constriction of the corset. The man
gripped the small mounds of her breasts and squeezed.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Gonna make you feel so good,” he rasped. 
One hand still groping her chest, he used the other to hold his cock down and
away from his body, aimed between the girl’s tender thighs. “That’s it, take me
in good, that’s my good little whore,” he rasped, hoarse and hardly able to
talk around the thunder roaring in his blood. 
He slid past the redhead’s gaping lips. At this angle, only the first few
inches were able to penetrate the boy’s throat, but the slick, constricting
heat around his inflamed head was ecstasy. Grabbing the girl’s tiny waist
tight, he slid her down as far as she could go so that it looked like his fat
cock was disappearing into her tiny body. 
At first, he rocked softly backward and forward, eyes riveted on the girl’s
lace panties and staring at his hands gripping her round hips. The man's body
felt electric. He needed more, needed to be deeper in her perfect heat.
Before he knew it, he was slamming forward at a brutal speed, yelling
mindlessly. The girl’s head rocked up and down limply, yanked down over the
redhead’s crotch and then shoved up to fall down between the boy’s legs over
and over. The man watched the motion through a fevered haze until it looked
like she was moving with him, mouth slack and gasping in pleasure, cheeks red
with arousal, fucking him as hard as he was fucking her, and holy shit he was
cumming! 
He slammed his hips forward, his body spasming, his vision black as his whole
existence became electric static. 
It felt like it went on forever, pleasure spiking into agony before he blinked
blurry eyes and found himself collapsed over the limp bodies of two boys. Small
teeth were pressing painfully into the base of his softening cock and he pulled
his hips back with a hiss before rolling over. 
Shivers wracked his frame. His heart still beat an exhilarated beat against his
ribs. Euphoria gave the candle-lit room a soft haze. He sat up, panting and
soaked with sweat. He felt invincible, incredible! Colors seemed brighter, the
world more full of magic.
Time seemed to stop. 
In a moment of perfect clarity, horror washed over him. 
He found himself his knees, the brunet tossed carelessly aside. He hovered over
the redheaded boy he’d laid out on the floor with desperate speed. The boy’s
face was swollen and blotchy, eyes open and bugged out. His jaw was dislocated,
hanging unhinged like a snake’s. He wasn’t breathing. There was no life in his
eyes. His heavy body lay terrifyingly still. 
The man could hear nothing but ringing in his ears as he realized he’d hurt a
child, murdered a child. He understood with powerful self-loathing that the
acts he’d been performing on these children were heinous. Hysterical, he swore
in an endless mental loop that he’d stop, that he’d repent, as he cast the
Revival Spell over and over. If Ronald would just breathe, the man would fix
it, he’d fix everything!
The boy suddenly gasped, his heart giving a sudden kick before settling into a
steady rhythm. The man hugged the child to his chest, sobbing. He smoothed
Ronald’s hair and whispered that it would be okay over and over. The boy’s jaw
still hung unattached and drool slicked his chin. Pain filled the boy’s eyes
and he cried like a child much younger, frightened and confused. The man
couldn’t risk putting him to sleep, not when he’d been technically dead for who
knew how many minutes.
“Shhh, it’s okay. I’m going to fix it,” he promised desperately. With clumsy
hands, he shifted the boy’s jaw, trying to put it back into place. 
Ron arched with a high-pitched shriek of pain, his arms lashing weakly in
panic.
“Hush!” the man ordered just as he felt the soft snap as the joint locked
together.
Scrambling to his hidden stash, the man watched as Ron curled into a ball
whimpering and sobbing, hands clutching his face. He quickly grabbed a healing
potion and returned to the boy’s side. Ron fought him, scratching and arching
his body away, but he forced the potion down the kid’s throat. 
Almost immediately, Ron’s strength left him and he went limp, eyes heavy-lidded
as he continued to cry softly. 
The man cradled the boy close, heart still pounding with adrenaline and terror.
“It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe now,” he whispered.
They rocked together until the boy fell into an exhausted natural sleep. The
man held him a moment longer before gently laying him on the floor. His legs
had gone numb from sitting so long and he grimaced as he got to a knee before
pushing clumsily up into a standing position. His eyes immediately fell on the
dark-haired child.
Harry lay on his side, one arm trapped underneath him, the other limp over his
corseted waist and resting on the bed. His legs hung over the edge, awkwardly
twisted. The soft, helpless gasps for air no longer seemed sexy but desperate
and terrifying. The man practically threw himself at the child and tore at the
laces to get the corset off. 
When Harry took his first full breath of air, the man burst into sobs.
Tenderly, he stripped the child of the inappropriate underwear and stockings
and washed Harry’s skin clean. He apologized again and again as applied a
healing cream to the boy’s brutalized chest. 
Once Harry’s bruises were seen to, he dressed the boy in one of his night
shirts and a sleep robe before tucking him safely under the covers of his bed.
He gave Ron the same treatment, the boy moaning in his sleep, fitful and still
afraid. The man soothed him as best he could.
“I’m so sorry,” he said again and again, tears in his eyes as he brushed short
red hair off a pale, freckled face. Chastely kissing the boy’s forehead, he
lifted his wand and cast, “Obliviate.”
Chapter end.
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