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The End Shall Come, And We Will Dance Forever	By : makochan0217 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 6654 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Disclaimers: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Publishing, and Warner Bros. I make nothing from this. In fact, I lose money to write this, so… no suing, ‘kay?

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
Disclaimers: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Publishing, Warner Bros, and some other companies that are NOT me. I make nothing from this. In fact, I lose money to write this, so… no suing, ‘kay?

Warnings: Angst, language, OOC, 7th year timeline based upon OotP – Disregarding HBP and DH, slash

A/N: It really is a shame that I dislike ickle Ronniekins, because I adore the twins, and now I have no idea how to bring them in. /cry

Chapter Ten – Lost and Confused

He knew that it was a dream. In fact, he’d had this dream many times before. All around him, screams of the dying and injured filled his ears and the smell of blood assaulted both his nose and mouth. He didn’t want to look. He knew what he’d see, but he couldn’t help it. Green eyes slowly opened, and through thick, black lashes, he saw Death all around him.

Thankfully, he couldn’t see just who the dead bodies were that surrounded him, but every once in a while, he’d catch a glimpse of shockingly ginger red hair or skin the shade of dark chocolate and his heart would clench in his chest.

Unfortunately, he also saw a shock of pale, nearly white, blond hair, and he had to keep himself from crying out in anguish. ‘Please don’t let it be him. Please don’t let it be…’was the only thing that ran through his mind as he slowly, ploddingly, carefully crawled over to the body that hair belonged to.

And, when he turned the pale figure over, he nearly sobbed in relief. The hair was the right color, but belonged to the wrong person. He was staring at the unmistakable face of Lucius Malfoy, not his son. The vicious man’s face was not in its usual sneer. No, this time, it was forever frozen in a look of abject horror, of utter disbelief. And for that, the Boy Who Lived was eternally grateful for.

However, he didn’t have time to linger over the corpse of one of the few people he’d actively hated in his young life. He had to find Voldemort. He had to end this all. He had to find Draco and make sure he was okay. Then, he could collapse and sleep.

Sleep, he hadn’t done that in days, at least not properly. A few stolen hours here and there were all that anyone had been able to get for weeks. When Voldemort had decided to attack Hogwarts, the entire school, staff and students alike, had been drafted to fight against the madman and his followers. Luckily, the Order of the Phoenix had been able to Floo into the school, but then Dumbledore had had to shut out all outside connections. They weren’t even getting owls anymore.

And the grounds looked like Hell on Earth. Gone was the pleasant scenery that had welcomed students for many years as they learned how to be wizard and witches. Gone was the sense of peace and security the old stone building wore. Now, now there was only Death and fighting.

But, he didn’t really sense that, not really. All he felt were the injuries he’d sustained and the blood-stiffened fabric that rubbed sensitive skin raw. And aside from the death screams, a thin, reedy voice gave out peels of maniacal laughter between the shouting of spells.

Suddenly, his world fell even farther into the depths of chaos. There, in front of him, was Draco. But, this Draco wasn’t his Draco. Those silvery grey eyes that he loved, that had looked at him with such affection, were lifeless. This Draco was the victim of the Imperius curse, and the sight broke the last bit of Harry’s heart.

Of course that monster would use Draco against him, of course. It was the kind of thing that Voldemort got his sick jollies off with.

“Don’t do this,” Harry pleaded with the blond. “Please, Draco, I know you can hear me still. Fight him. Please.”

“Harry,” Draco whispered mechanically, pulling at the Gryffindor’s heart even more.

“It’s no use, Potter. Your little toy is now mine,” Voldemort said, his voice making the dark haired teen shiver in disgust. “And when I’m done having him kill you, I will rape his body as well, not just his mind, before he joins you.”

He shouldn’t have said that. At those words, Harry’s blood boiled, fatigue and hunger forgotten in waves of undiluted hatred for the creature that had taken absolutely everything from him. Without blinking, the boy stood and leveled his wand coolly at the snake-like face with the red eyes. He readied himself. There was no way that this monster was going to have Draco. None.

Coldly, he readied himself, nerves feeling as if they were made of steel. With a smirk, so similar to the one that the beautiful blond next to his enemy normally would have worn, he cast his spell.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry woke up, stifling a moan of absolute agony as his scar bled profusely. He’d had that dream again, the same one for the last two weeks. It was the same one he’d had since that meeting with Malfoy and Neville in the Room of Requirement. The only thing that changed this time from every other one was Voldemort using Malfoy against him. The thought that he could be so easily compromised sent shivers up and down Harry’s spine. Could he really afford to have such a large liability as that?

Ignoring the implications of the dream and that last thought both, the black haired boy got up from his bed and made his way to the bathroom, snagging his glasses from the bedside table, but not putting them on just yet. The candlelight flickered to life as he stepped over the threshold, casting a safe, warm glow on the tiles, sinks and mirrors. It was to one of the sinks that he stumbled, feeling as if he’d had his head cracked wide open, which was exactly what it appeared to have happened as he looked at his reflection in the mirror.

As he carefully cleaned up the crimson liquid that was smeared down his face, Harry felt his thoughts drift back to the last few days. He’d spent them with Neville, of course, and Malfoy. Surprisingly, the blond had been on his best behaviour. He was charming, witty, and fun. Part of the Gryffindor was sad to think that this was the person that he’d spent the last six years fighting with nearly every day, but he then remembered that Malfoy usually gave as well as he got, so it wasn’t entirely Harry’s fault that they hadn’t gotten along.

When finished, he did a quick Tempus charm, revealing that it was close to six in the morning. Giving it up as a bad idea to go back to sleep, he gathered his things to take a shower. He supposed it was too much to hope that he’d be alone, and the few other early risers in the boys’ showers stared at him as if he was going to suddenly turn on them and start throwing around hexes and curses. It felt like second year all over again. Except, this time, there was no Ron or Hermione to remind him that he was good.

‘There’s no point in feeling sorry for yourself, you great baby,’ he thought fiercely. Rushing as much as was prudently possible, he showered, dressed, brushed his teeth and tried to tame his crazy hair. With a sigh, he headed down to breakfast, ready to see how the day would work itself out.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco was startled awake, not entirely sure what it was that prompted the abrupt action. He sat up, making his breathing calm down. The dungeon room was silent aside from the ever present drip on the walls. Then, he heard it – a light tapping on the one window his room contained.

He grabbed his wand from under his pillow and carefully padded over to the window, a Blasting curse ready on his lips in case of danger. To his lack of surprise, he saw an owl. Granted, it wasn’t one he was familiar with, but it didn’t look very threatening, which meant that the message it carried could only be from his sometime correspondent. Cautiously, he opened the window and the bird flew in, resting its panting body on his desk.

‘Why is it that when Sev sends owls, they look half-dead?’ he thought before going over to relieve the owl of its tiny scroll while searching for a treat that he would have normally fed his own eagle owl, Tiberius. He received a grateful hoot in reply as he looked over the parchment.

“Draco – I hear that you have heeded my words. Now, listen carefully to what I have to say. There is no way to save Narcissa at this time. You must put your own self-preservation above hers. Your father and his master will, no doubt, try to get you to take the Mark over Christmas holidays. Find a way to stay at the school, under Potter’s protection if you must. Time is running short. I do what I can, as you do. – S”

His mood turning dark, Draco read the letter through two more times before tossing it into the fireplace. Slowly, the yellowed paper turned to ash in the flames, but his mind was working overtime. So, he wasn’t moving fast enough for the Dark Lord and would be forced to take the Dark Mark if he went home. There was no doubt in his mind that his dear Aunt Bellatrix had her hand in this. The entire situation stank of her meddling.

However, it was only the middle of October. That meant he had two months or so to convince his father that it was wisest that he stay at Hogwarts and Potter – Harry, his mind reinforced – that he could be trusted enough to become closer.

The blond sighed at his predicament. Truthfully, spending time with Harry Potter was now no longer the burden it would have been in previous years. In fact, he was beginning to truly enjoy the other boy’s company. He could even see the value of Longbottom. While the boy was clumsy and not as polished as his Slytherin associates, he was quiet, thoughtful, and nice. That word made him sneer just thinking it.

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” he muttered darkly as he turned to shower before heading to the Great Hall.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

True to form, Harry and Longbottom were sitting alone at the end of the Gryffindor table. Weasley, Granger and the rest of the seventh years appeared to be deep in conversation, one which got louder as Draco entered.

“I don’t know why he’s been hanging around Malfoy,” Weasley shouted as his normally pale face grew as dark as his hair. “I still think it’s some stupid plot those Slytherins have going on.”

“What Slytherins?” Harry asked darkly, forcing the rest of the table to look up and blush furiously. “The only Slytherin here is Draco, and he’s been on his best behaviour since he arrived.”

“True,” Longbottom replied quietly. “In fact, Malfoy has been the most civil and polite person in the school since his return.”

“Really?” Weasley shot back. “Then why don’t you ask Draco,” he spat that word, “about threatening me his first weekend back? And why don’t you ask Draco why he didn’t come back to school with the rest of us at the very beginning of the school year?”

“Hm, I would, if I didn’t already know the answers to those questions, Ron,” Harry said. “I seem to remember you threatened him first, and he defended himself, without using a curse or hex, which you would have deserved.” The black-haired boy’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “And as for why he came back late, if his answer was good enough for Dumbledore, it should be good enough for you too.”

“Well, it’s not! He’s up to something and I don’t trust him! I don’t like that he’s getting close to you!”

“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t need your approval for everything I do, Weasley,” Harry replied coldly. He stood up from the table, ignoring the looks of outrage and confusion the other Gryffindors wore. “My business is just that, mine. You’ll smartly remember that before you start throwing accusations around the Great Hall in front of everyone. Proof. You’d better get some of that before you even dare think about approaching me again.”

When Longbottom stood to join his friend, Harry shook his head. “No need, Nev. Stay here and finish breakfast. You know where to find me when you’re done.”

Draco had watched the entire exchange from the doors, both horrified and satisfied at the way Harry had defended him. It was amazing how very Slytherin Harry’s side of the argument had been, while Weasley had been the epitome of a Gryffindor blockhead. However, with the Golden Boy’s departure, he could feel the stares of the other students land on him, and it – truth be told, only to himself, mind you – scared him. But, with Harry’s words ringing through his head, he straightened his shoulders and strolled over to the nearly deserted Slytherin table for his morning cuppa and some toast.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Neville finished his breakfast and flashed a brief smile to the lone blond at the other side of the room, effectively ignoring the glare Ron sent in his direction. Truly, the fact that Harry had remained as cool as he had was a testament to the fact his dark-haired friend was trying to contain a massive explosion. It was just sad that the rest of their Housemates were too blind to see it. Ron and Hermione should have known about his temper, seeing as how Harry hadn’t remained the sweet kid they’d all met their first year. In fact, Harry hadn’t been the same since fifth year and the whole mess with the Department of the Mysteries.

He knew where his friend was. He’d be in the library, in the corner that they and Malfoy had occupied nearly every day since their little tête-a-tête-a-tête. It was odd to think that he and Harry now spent most of their time with the person who’d tortured them for the first five years at Hogwarts. But, truth be told, Harry wasn’t the only one to notice the fact that the Slytherin Prince seemed to have grown uncomfortable with his crown during sixth year. And, he also knew something that both boys probably wished he didn’t.

What neither knew was that Neville was a mild empath, and he’d been picking up on the unresolved sexual tension between the two of them since fourth year. And since they’d begun hanging out, it had gotten worse. It was only a matter of time before one of them caved. And if they didn’t, then Neville would take matters into his own hand. He was a Gryffindor, after all. But, there was a conversation they needed to have before anything else happened. And it was time.

TBC
- 10
- 11
- 12
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The End Shall Come, And We Will Dance Forever