Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Intangible	By : ChimaeraChan Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 9795 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-CH1
- 2-CH2
- 3-CH3
- 4-CH4
- 5-CH5
- 6-CH6
- 7-CH7
- 8-CH8
- 9-CH9
- 10-CH10
- 11-CH11
- 12-CH12
- 13-CH13
- 14-CH14
- 15-CH15
- 16-CH16
- 17-CH17
- 18-CH18
- 19-CH19
- 20-CH20
- 21-CH21
- 22-CH22
- 23-CH23
- 24-CH24
- 25-Ch25
- 10
- 11
- 12
Chapter Eleven
Jaz had two new instruments when Draco and Harry returned nearly a week later, the potion master off doing other things. Harry had begrudgingly come into Snape's office, watching Draco warily the entire time. The boy was quiet in a way that unsettled Harry. He wasn't sure if Draco was plotting or giving up. Neither option was gratifying and Harry had wavered many a time, following the boy around while watching and trying to understand.
Something had changed in Draco, some odd stillness that had quieted every level of the boy until Harry had to wonder if Draco wasn't the one out of phase with the world instead. Blaise had nearly broken down on seeing him the first morning in the Great Hall, and Pansy, the normally restrained girl, started swearing and stormed off. They both haunted Draco along with Harry now, following him class to class, trying to get him to talk late into the night with games or whatnot—Harry never saw what they did, refusing to stay in the same room as the boy.
Draco being fucked up still did not stop the fire inside Harry, and that was probably the worst of it all. He wanted Draco even when the boy was broken. Harry didn't know if coming back to reality was the answer, now that he was clearly a full out deranged individual that would fuck the walking dead as long as they looked and smelled as good as Malfoy did. And Draco seemed dead, eyes empty, muscles loose and body refusing to eat.
“Mr. Potter, let's start with the pen.” Jaz held up a muggle style ballpoint pen, holding it out to where Harry was standing. Harry had to step around Draco to reach it, so instead walked the edge of the room, coming around the other side of Jaz to pluck the pen from his clawed fingers.
It felt like a pen, solid to Harry's hand and lacking in all the blushes and quick breaths he had grown to love from his favorite quill. “Alright. A pen, and now you can know where I am.” Harry glanced up, watching Draco's eyes slide away from where the pen was likely floating in mid air to him.
“And the second instrument. The one that needs a little tweaking,” Jaz continued, pulling out a pair of gold rimmed round glasses. “With the help of Draco's ring and his blood, I have determined where you are—hopefully. The glasses have been keyed to the potential dimension, and now, just to see if you're there.” Jaz took off his own dark frames, his face oddly predatory without the rectangles to obscure his sharp cat like eyes. He slipped on the new glasses, humming to himself as he turned to Harry.
Snapping his fingers, Jaz called his notebook to him, quickly turning through pages, scribbling in the margins and glancing up at Harry from time to time. “Mr. Potter, you're in a lot of trouble here. I had assumed you were just ungrounded, but seeing you, it's clear this has occurred from your battle with the Dark Lord. You are wounded, and unraveling, the attack slowed by the nature of being outside of the normal flow of time. You are reaching the end of your life and there isn't much time left.”
Harry blinked, and then nodded. He wasn't surprised, the sparks having increased in intensity and frequency until Harry felt more a walking electric socket than anything else. Harry moved to Snape's desk, clicking the pen and writing out his question on waiting paper.
Will you bury me, even if you can't bring me back?
“I'll do it,” Draco whispered, his first words to Harry since they had argued days ago.
Thank you. There really didn't seem much else to say about it, so Harry walked back to the wall to put space between himself and Draco's scent.
“Mr. Potter, normally in a situation like this I would find the dimension, key a portal in and physically reach in and get you. But the spell will take too long,” Jaz said evenly, turning to follow Harry as the boy leaned on the wall. “I am going to speak with Dumbledore about lending the phoenix to help. If the beast is willing, we can bond the two of you, and it should be enough to tip you into reality once again. Once here, you're wounds will be extensive and require immediate healing. I cannot guarantee you will survive.”
Harry shrugged, waving his hand in an assenting manner just to end the conversation. Jaz didn't take offense, switching his glasses and leaving the new frames on Snape's desk. “I'll be back shortly and we'll know if we have a working plan or not.” Jaz left, walking with long strides to reveal the urgency his tone of voice would not show.
Harry watched, dread slowly building, as Draco inched his fingers towards the discarded glasses on the desk. The boy just fucking loved to punish himself. Harry regretted it all, touching Draco's hand in the Great Hall, following the boy, kissing him, wanting him—making Draco want him back. Whatever had happened to him, Draco should not have to see it.
Draco slipped the glasses on, settling them on his face and slowly turning to where Harry was standing. He inhaled sharply, eyes widening. “Shit, Harry... You're not black, you're fucking burned.” Draco stepped closer, ignoring the way Harry flinched away. “The warm light is your normal color...” He reached his hand up, probing the top of Harry's head where his hair was tousled. “You had some sort of horns once, but... they've snapped off. And... your energy keeps fluctuating, like mini explosions.”
Harry turned his head away, not able to meet the intensity of Draco's stare. Draco pulled him back, wrenching his hair and glaring up at him challengingly. “They're the same... the same damn green...”
“Just take the fucking things off and go away, Draco.” Harry growled, putting his hand on the smaller boy's shoulder to keep him from coming any closer. “I'm dead—burned, like you said. What the fuck is the point of doing this to yourself?”
Draco's eyes strayed to where Harry's lips moved as if trying to read them. Then he pulled Harry down, kissing him hard, holding him by the hair when Harry tried to pull away.
“Idiot—Malfoy!” Harry growled, grabbing both of Draco's shoulders and pushing the boy away to arms length.
“What? Am I supposed to bury you now, Potter? Now that I can fucking see you, and know where the fuck you are and what it looks like when you look at me—why the fuck should I?”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Because I'm a goddamn dying monster on this plane apparently, and I don't want you to see me like this.”
Draco ignored him, not being able to understand what Harry was saying anyways. “You're likely dead. Fine. I'm getting married. Fine. Do you need to hurt me more by pulling away as well?”
“You ass, its to keep you from hurting more!” Frustrated and very much wanting to kiss Draco again, Harry pulled himself from the boy's hands, crossing through Snape's desk so that there could be a barrier between them. Using his new pen he wrote out his thoughts while Draco glared.
It hurts. Seeing you hurting, hurts me.
Draco huffed, crossing his arms over his chest while he bowed his head. “Who the fuck cares? You're dead anyways. Suck it up and hurt. It's going to be worse for me anyways, and you don't see me bitching about it.”
Harry shook his head. You're out of your fucking mind. Rational people don't think like that.
“So—who the fuck are you to judge? You've never been rational a fucking day in your life. You're walking around in a lost dimension, hanging on to life while half dead for months, and you want to judge me on being irrational?” Draco slammed his hands down on the desk across from Harry, glaring into the wild green eyes he had missed so much. “Come on, you fucking hotheaded Gryffindor imbecile. Where the hell did your love for doing the impossible go? Be impossible with me.”
Harry swallowed hard, very much lost in the glaring silver eyes behind the round glasses. He slowly reached across, touching the side of Draco's face, watching the silver eyes stay on his instead of straying like they used to. The boy was fucking beautiful.
They were interrupted by the door opening, Dumbledore, Severus and Jaz stepping in. Dumbledore had Fawkes on his shoulder, the bird resting with ease as the older man stood next to Draco. Draco gave a flinch as Severus walked right through Harry to sit at his desk, but Harry didn't seem worse for wear, just stepping aside.
“May I, Draco?” Dumbledore asked, hand outstretched. Sighing, Draco relinquished the glasses, taking a final glance at Harry before pulling them off. Slipping the golden frames on, Dumbledore's face turned grim, a frown deepening his normally cheerful expression. “Hello, Harry.”
Meeting the twinkle free gaze, Harry gave a slow nod. Sir, he wrote out on the paper before him.
“Jaz has caught me up on your condition. Unfortunately, nothing can be done while you are split between the dimensions. I have asked Fawkes to help, and he has agreed.” Dumbledore did not look happier for it, somehow his frown growing. “Harry... whether it had been right after the attack, or now, how you appear once back will be the same. You will be injured. Possibly dead. There may be little we can do to help you. We might be killing Fawkes by even trying.”
Then it's not worth it. I don't want anyone else dying.
“Bullshit!” Draco snapped, not caring that he was swearing in front of his professors. “The bird wants to do it—they come back to life anyways. At least try!”
“I have to agree with Malfoy on this one, Potter,” Snape spoke up, long fingers arching on the desk. “You've given up enough. Let us at least attempt to help you.”
Harry met Albus's ever watching gaze. He had never seen the man so serious. What aren't you telling me?
“We've figure out what you are. McVicar recognized you immediately, even with the damage to your body.”
Is it bad?
“It is... difficult.” Dumbledore answered slowly, fingers falling into his beard. “Creatures like you don't exist, Harry. They can't handle the modern world, and the world can't handle them.”
“You're a Kalistar, Mr. Potter. It's a demon with antlers and large wings. They are aggressive, dangerous, and down right murderous towards humans.” Jaz turned to Draco, raising a brow. “That means you are most likely their kin, the Vesper.”
Draco shook his head, eyes narrowing. “He's burnt, not black.”
“He's damaged. The black pigment comes up with the excessive blood flow. They turn color when enraged, in love, in hot temperature, and injured.” Jaz explained, ignoring the anger in Draco's voice. “That it is patchy suggest it's from damage more than anything else. Likely Voldemort knew what he was and made to attack him on his own plane to make sure he was destroyed. His wings are torn off, along with his horns. His body is a near bruise of wounds, and if the removal of his wings does not drain him of all his blood, it has likely put him into shock.”
“They've died out. My father told me,” Draco insisted. “They were good, kind creatures, that kept the others safe and in line.”
Dumbledore held his hand up, still looking at Harry. “All we know of them is that they exist with the Vesper, that they are gone, and that any time one has been sighted a human was torn to pieces. Sometimes many humans.”
Draco scoffed. “It's fucking Potter! If they were so hateful no human would have survived to mate with the damn things. If my father is a Vesper than he would bloody well know more about it.”
“Your father is beyond communication, Draco.” Dumbledore said slowly, finally turning his piercing gaze from Harry. He blinked, removing the glasses as Draco's glowing form came into view. “Lucius has been separated from the rest, put into isolation. His transformation has left him maddened and violent among humans, and he has already killed two of the other prisoners.”
Draco bit his lip, exhaling slowly from the news. “It doesn't mean Harry is going to start killing people if you bring him back. You're assuming because you don't know enough about his kind. You're going to let him die, because you're scared of what he is. I am telling you, he is not how you think.”
Jaz took the offered glasses from Dumbledore, exchanging them for his own. “Mr. Potter, you have been extremely aggressive concerning Mr. Malfoy.”
“You're fucking shitting me,” Draco muttered, glaring at the man. “You can't compare the mating urge to—”
“Please, this is something I need to present to Harry,” Jaz said sternly. “Harry, your reaction to scent has been uncontrollable, wouldn't you say? Have you smelled any humans since being in that realm?”
Understanding, Harry slowly shook his head. If I can't control my reaction to Draco's scent, who is to say I won't go into a murderous rage around human scent. Right?
“That is our concern,” Dumbledore said softly.
“Their concern,” Severus broke in. “I have no worry that you will be anything but yourself if you survive the return, Potter.”
Harry looked down at Snape's bowed head, surprised. The man was not one for defending Harry, seeing as they were hardly friends. Sighing, Harry reached past his potions professor to write.
It is your decision. The risk is all on your shoulders, from the other students to Fawkes. I will not ask you to do anything you aren't comfortable with.
“Damn it, stop being so fucking selfless!” Draco snarled, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “He killed Voldemort—you have no right to not even try!”
Draco, it's more than that, and you know it. Surviving doesn't justify putting others in danger.
“Bloody bullshit. You didn't just survive. You saved.”
It doesn't matter.
“As I have already told Albus and McVicar, I am willing to create a space free of all scents for your potential return, Mr. Potter. We could even go so far as to eliminate your ability to smell all together, if we find that you are as driven as they fear. I would need your consent, with you understanding if the madness does take you I will administer the potion against your will.”
Harry considered long moments, watching the way Draco was twitching in irritation. A lifetime without smell. Would it effect his sense of his beast body when it came to Draco? Did it matter in the long run, considering it seemed Dumbledore would not allow him to return if he refused? He saw it in his headmaster's eye, the steel determination to ensure the students of Hogwarts were protected by monsters. Once that had been Tom Riddle. Today it was Harry.
I give you my consent.
“And if it doesn't work?” Draco asked, already knowing the answer given his glower. “Are you going to let them kill you, Potter?”
Harry shrugged, meeting Jaz's gaze.
They have my consent for that as well. Although, if I am as they say, I likely will not make it easy for them.
“Thank you, Harry.” Dumbledore said, bowing his head. “I will leave Fawkes in the hand of these good gentlemen. We will do the best we can to return you safe and sound.”
Draco hissed, glaring at everyone. “Right, until they bloody stab you in the back.”
Harry didn't have anything to say. Draco would never understand, and he didn't really care. Draco was Draco, and Harry was Harry, and the boy would have to accept his decision the same way Harry had accepted when Draco decided to kill himself. Dumbledore left, and Jaz and Snape started going over the spell that would be done and the preparation needed.
Harry would need to practice controlling his magic so that he could effect the normal realm. The last part of the spell would require his focus to reach to Fawkes since it was unlikely the phoenix would have enough power to connect to Harry alone. He had three days, all the necessary preparations and instruments hopefully taken care of by then.
Draco waited for a bit, pacing agitatedly. Finally he gave a great sigh, seeking out the pen Harry was using to get an idea where the invisible boy was. “Potter, you don't need me for this anymore. I'm going back.”
“He says goodbye,” Jaz said, Draco shrugging unconcernedly as he left. Harry stared at the closed door, frown growing.
“Potter, you're a bloody idiot when it comes to that boy,” Severus drawled, shaking his head slowly. “He's the only one really fighting for you, and asking for nothing in return except that you stand up for yourself as well.”
He's wrong.
Severus snorted, holding his hands out for the glasses Jaz was stubbornly wearing. Placing them on his nose, Severus took a long look at Harry's form. “You look like some wild terrible beast, broken and scarred. Your back is an absolute mess, the skin torn to shreds. You do look burnt, every wound a damn ripple on the char black skin. But to see the way that boy was looking at you, I thought you must be some damn Adonis hero.”
Standing, Severus folded his arms, looking oddly owl like in the round glasses. “Life is not given, Potter. It is fought for. Every day we battle; predators, the elements, other human beings, and our own twisted nature. Here, at the cusp of death, you should be screaming a warrior's call for life. You shouldn't be letting someone already as broken as Draco to have to raise the energy for you. That he does it at all is amazing enough.”
Harry's nostrils flared and hands tightened into fists, anger slowly curling around him. Severus noticed, the energy visible with the glasses.
It is not his battle, nor is it yours. I will do what I must, because that is how the situation has made me. I don't want to hurt anyone.
Severus did not seem impressed. “Sometimes you have to hurt to survive. You did it with Voldemort. You do it every day when you kill to eat, whether it is ever by your own hands or not. The natural order demands lesser beings fall to stronger ones. Like it or not, you are the stronger, Potter. Not acting it will kill off what is left of your bloodline.”
Harry didn't care about his bloodline. His parents were dead as were the Dursleys. If another Potter existed out there, he didn't know about it. He didn't owe anyone for the life that he had struggled with his short years, and he wasn't going to start now.
It's better if this creature doesn't continue on. Clearly the Kalistar aren't good.
“McVicar, I blame you for this,” Severus growled, turning on the man who had been flipping through notes. “Demonizing him. You of all people should be more accepting.”
Tongue twitching over his sharp fang, Jaz nodded thoughtfully. “I accept Mr. Potter for how he is—a potentially dangerous, berserker creature with more power than he will ever know what to do with. I don't hold it against him, but I certainly don't want to be the one carrying him back into this realm either.”
Snape glared, turning back to Harry. “They're cowards, Potter. Selfish cowards that fear power they can't control. You should not let them sway you. If someone like Draco can see, surely you must know it's true.”
Harry sighed, looking away from his professor's stinging gaze. What the hell do you want from me, Snape? I'm tired of all this. What say do I have? My life is in their hands, not mine.
“That doesn't mean you don't speak up for yourself. It's not an excuse to let that boy think you're not fighting to stay. He's falling apart. He needs you to be strong right now.” Severus was quiet in his plea, intent and soft spoken, and very much reminding Harry that Draco cared for him.
Grumbling to himself, Harry nodded at Snape, turning on his heel to go find Draco. He didn't pass many in the hall, the hour late, and Harry nothing more than a floating pen to most. He clicked it unconsciously, twitching with pent up energy.
There had been no good news today, just layer after layer of shit problems to pile on his shoulders. He had survived Voldemort, but apparently not by much, and god knew for how much longer. He did not remember feeling injured while battling the stain of a man, but then, Harry had not felt much of anything beyond the roar of power singing in his ears as he destroyed Voldemort. There had been nothing else, but power and light and victory.
Somehow, Voldemort had still had his revenge, Harry on the precipice of death, waiting to fall in this echo of life, or once brought back to his own realm where the pain would be felt. He wasn't rushing for either.
Except, he had to, didn't he? Time was ticking down, and Draco, the glorious bastard, was waiting for him. It didn't matter that Harry was tired, feeling drained and powerless in the face of so much he had no control over. Draco was depending on him to be strong.
Harry stopped in the hallway, tapping his hand on the wall to remind himself he was real as power shot through him in painful bursts. It was a chain reaction lately, not one spark but many. Somehow Draco had found a way to control Harry. He had taken the wild mating call and wrapped it around his elegant pale fingers to turn it into something bearable. Harry had no excuse in it anymore, no way to justify giving in to the urges without the drive pounding in him to push him forward.
Stupid Malfoy... Wanting Harry to be impossible with him. Right now, that would mean to be back in their realm, alive, and not a wild beast. Somehow it seemed a damn fucking lot to ask for, even for Draco's standards.
Staring at the pen, Harry began to click it repeatedly again as he continued walking towards Draco's room.
- 10
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- 12
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Intangible