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
- 18
- 19
- 20
Chapter Nineteen
When Draco finally arrived in the Vesper Village it was after another three hours of walking. Dawn was just on the horizon when they reached the huge clearing surrounded by a large stone wall. Hermione and Draco exchanged glances. There were huts and clay buildings everywhere, the area large enough to house hundreds. But the buildings were human dwellings. Draco hadn't known what he had been expecting, but this was not it.
Be prepared, little halfling. And you, human. When we cross this border we will be within your realm again. You will see us. Hear us. Smell us. Feel us. And we will be the same to you.
Draco grabbed Hermione's hand, squeezing tight. At first she wondered if he was afraid for her, the Vesper soon being able to smell her humanity if her spell was not potent enough. But then she remembered what Harry had warned them of. Malfoy had reacted intensely the one time he had seen the Vesper. With just one look the boy have been completely overwhelmed and Harry had barely gotten him under control.
“It's going to be okay,” Hermione whispered, the two of them standing feet away from the open archway. “We're just going to look around. See what they're like when not out hunting for halflings.”
Draco wanted to laugh it off. He wanted to hold his head high with confidence and assurance that once walking into the village he would just as surely walk out. Instead he was full of fear and misgiving. “I'm in love with him.”
Hermione raised her brows, turning her head to face Draco. “Um... I'm sure he'll be happy to hear.”
“I'm in love with him. And he left before I could tell him.” Draco said, meeting her gaze. “When I walk through this door, I'm afraid I'm going to forget that I love him.”
Hermione didn't really have an answer for that. Draco responded to the creatures, and they responded to him. “Do you think you love the Vesper?” She asked, honestly curious.
Draco jerked as if hit, taking a step away from her although still holding her hand. “Do you even understand people?” He snapped, glaring at her. “You want to tell me what I feel for Harry is just the same messed up allure I have with the Vesper? Are you seriously going to stand there and tear apart my affection just because we have the same magical species dna!” Draco could hear Matten trying to purr him calm, and he whirled towards the noise, snarling.
You are upset. I am helping the only way I know how.
“Well stop it! I'm allowed to be upset!”
Matten carefully placed his hand to Draco's shoulder, only the softest of hums falling from his lips. You will see how that cannot be, beautiful one. When you finally gaze upon us, and you are angry, you will understand why it is important to be calm.
Draco continued to glare, but turned it to the witch that had suggested something so vile in his mind that he wasn't sure if he could stand to be around her in that moment. His feelings for Harry had to be real. They were all he had left to keep him from falling into the alien world waiting for him on the other side of the dividing wall.
Hermione took a long time to answer, biting her lip in thought. “I don't know what you want me to say, Malfoy. I'm sorry if I upset you. I don't think the question is invalid though. And honestly, I don't think you'd get this mad if a part of you wasn't wondering it as well.”
“Shut up, Granger,” Draco hissed, gritting his teeth harshly. “You're the last person anyone would go to for relationship advice. You might as be a golem, for the amount of heart you show most of the time. Whatever I may feel for these creatures, it does not effect what I feel for Harry. Ever. That you could compare—My god, but you are dim sometimes!”
Hermione shrugged, not looking upset in the least. “Well, I guess you answered your own question then. Are we going in?”
Draco growled, trying to figure out if he was more upset with what Hermione had suggested, or that she had chosen to suggest it at such a damn nerve racking time. “Matten, hum for me. Please.”
Matten, who had been ever hovering at Draco's shoulder, began to thrum a gentle pulse around him. Draco gave a shudder, sighing softly, eyelids growing heavy and muscles unclenching. Waves of sound moved over him, shivering all the way down to his bones. Matten gently ran his palm over Draco's back, soothing him in both ways until Draco swayed and nearly fell over.
Hermione quickly yanked him back her way before he could fall, steadying his shoulders. “Better?” She asked, a little wary of what was going to happen if Draco went in there like a drunk man.
“Mmm... yes,” Draco said, his anger completely forgotten for the moment.
Come now, little one. The others are waking. They can feel your presence and they wish to meet you.
Draco nodded, studying his shoes as he took a step forward, Hermione moving with him. He took another, the sides of the walls coming into his peripherally.
Just one more... One more and he would be through.
Taking a deep breath, Draco stepped inside the village.

Draco could see Matten's hand, fingers curling lightly over his shoulder and the fabric of his shirt, claws tipping but not tearing. Hermione had stiffened beside him, her hand tensing in his, but Draco could not bear to look up just yet. He was afraid of how he was going to respond. He was afraid he would not be himself.
“Come now, little one. We will not bite.” Draco had never heard Matten speak but he knew it was the man. His voice was low and a little rough sounding, as if he was unused to it... or he had a mouthful of fangs. “What is it? Why are you trembling so?”
Long legs clad in loose soft fiber pants came into Draco's view, along with wrappings tied tight around Matten's ankles and calves, keeping his pants from rustling. He wore no shoes, his feet bare and dusty, with clawed talons at the ends. That the man wore clothing shocked Draco, even though he knew from what Harry told him that the glasses showed everyone nude. Draco had assumed that the Vesper in normal form would be... Well, the form seen through the glasses.
Matten's hand looked ordinary enough, large, pale, his palm a warm pink as it pressed gently to Draco's cheek and guided his gaze upwards. He wore no shirt, his bare flesh littered with a shimmery cross work of scars, a fresh slash still pink across the man's chest. More strips of fabric covered Matten's forearms. Draco hesitated, staring at the man's throat and a white nick there, certain that any eye contact would be his undoing.
“Where has your courage gone, fiery dragon?” Matten's voice was warm and teasing. He spoke more with compassion than anything else as the man leaned closer, trying to catch Draco's eye. “Don't tell me you're afraid of one such as me? You, with all your magic and nasty temper.”
Glowering, Draco snapped his eyes up, glaring at the annoying man. Then he froze, breath caught in his throat.
“...Ah, I forgot,” Matten muttered, turning his face away, silvery white hair cut shoulder length fanning out. “Let me find another... Seles does not venture with the pack, and still has a pleasant—”
“No,” Draco croaked, grabbing the arm that was holding his cheek. “Don't go. I was... I was just surprised. I had not realized you were injured.”
Matten turned back slowly, faint wariness deep in his pale blue eyes. He was scarred, a terrible slash cut over the bridge of his nose, part of his right eyebrow missing. The scar continued on the other side of his face after an inch of unmarred skin, thinner as it ran down his jaw towards his neck. “Our other forms do not become injured as these do. Until you are awakened, or I gather are wearing the headpiece your friend has brought, you will not be able to see them. We see each other mostly on the other plane, so we forget at times.”
“You don't transform?” Hermione asked.
Matten glanced her way, shaking his head curtly. He was fixed on Draco, a furrow between his uneven eyebrows. “Did I frighten you? I did not intend to. Many of us are as I am, just in different ways.”
Draco felt terrible for his reaction, immediately wanting to assure the man that it had not been the scar that had scared him. “I'm sorry, it was not you. I was afraid I would react like I had when seeing the other forms. That's all. You are... Matten, you are beautiful. I promise.” Draco meant it, the scar doing little to hide the man's handsome features. If anything, it made him more unique, a fierceness that was wild and appealing all at the same time.
Matten smiled, revealing sharp fangs and straight white teeth. “Coming from one such as you, that is surely the greatest of compliments. Are you ready now?”
“Ready?” Draco echoed in confusion, raising an eyebrow.
“To look behind me,” Matten reminded kindly. “To see our people. To meet your family.”
Draco blanched, feeling again Hermione's hand tightening. “Of course. We're here for a tour, after all.” That earned Draco another glimpse of fangs from Matten, the man stepping back and to the side so that Draco could see the village before him.
A hiss escaped Draco, and he wrenched his hand from Hermione's, raising it instead to his mouth. There were at least a hundred people staring back at him, pressing against the edge of the square where the archway opened up into. Others moved behind them, peering out of cloth covered doorways. It was a sea of silvery hair and pale flesh, small variations in features and coloration separating one from the other. Draco couldn't help but notice that they all looked male, but couldn't be certain with them standing so far away and many slender and long haired. They were holding back, as if afraid to frighten him, tentative smiles on lovely, scarred faces. The dragons were among them, scaled white but not glowing. There was one dragon for every five shifters, some missing ears, scales and covered in scars. Draco could not understand it, and he sought out Matten again.
“Why is everyone...? You're all so injured. Don't you know how to heal? Why—what is causing all these wounds?”
Matten scratched the back of his head, leaning on one leg as he glanced among the villagers. “It is difficult. I believe your kind is usually awake before stepping into a village.”
“What, so all of your villages are like this?” Draco asked, anxiety and disbelief making his voice sound shrill. “You look as if you've been through a war!”
“Calm down,” Hermione said lowly, stepping in as if afraid the others might hear. “They're reacting to you.”
Draco barely noticed the way the crowd was stirring, Matten suddenly thrumming, stepping up and placing his hand to Draco's shoulder. Heat rushed through him from the touch, the sound vibrating and making him shiver.
“I am sorry, little one. You are the first halfling in a very long time to come here. I fear we are making many mistakes.”
“Just tell me why everyone is so hurt, Matten,” Draco insisted, fighting the drowsy, heated calm rising through him. Individuals were stepping forward, sleek warriors to hardy farmers. Draco was glad in a way to not find children there, afraid they would be just as scarred and broken as the fully grown beautiful creatures. Draco's people—these people were his, and not a one seemed free of wounds that spoke pain and suffering.
“I thought that was clear, Draco. Why we stayed away as long as we could.”
Hermione, eyes narrowed as she took in more of the Vesper arriving, made a loud exhalation. “Humans? They did this to you?”
Matten nodded, reaching his hand out to one of the dragons that was behind Draco. Draco turned, realizing he had missed the party of Vesper that had brought him there. As if permission had been given, the other two shifters stepped forward, fingers brushing against Draco's skin. The tall one had what looked like a burn on his shoulder, reaching down his arm. The other, face particularly beautiful, had only one ear and kept tilting the proper side forward in case Draco spoke again.
“They attack us when we are still young. Our dragon forms frighten them.” Matten shrugged it away, seemingly more concerned about Draco's distress than anything else. “By the age we grow to shift we all have wounds on these forms.”
Draco, who had been certain he would never ever dare even walk towards one of those vicious looking dragons, was suddenly on his knees, hands reaching out to touch the closest one. Matten began his purr again, this time more for the dragon than Draco, the creature unsure around the human scent still on the boy. But Draco just couldn't seem to help himself, fingers gently tracing a large scar on the dragon's neck, scales having flaked off where it had been wounded.
“Are these your young, then?” He asked, staring into the fierce looking face. The dragon's teeth were long and vicious, a sharp long snout leading up to a delicate forehead where feathers sprouted richly. The eyes were pale violet jewels, just the lightest touch of color in their sparkling depths. Up close the iridescent scales were stunning, each one a miniature rainbow of color shimmering over the being's flesh. When Draco touched the warm scales the dragon gave a small shake, pressing into his touch and purring similar to the noise Matten made.
“Yes. We all start out in that form. Except the Kalistar—when they hatch they are gold and horned and winged. We are dragons for many years until we breed. Then we reach our next stage, shifting to live as we look now.”
Draco nodded, fingers lightly brushing down the dragon's snout, marveling at just how soft it felt. “Is that difficult? Being a dragon for so long and then turning into something that... Well, you become the form of a creature that has harmed you.”
Matten folded his arms over his chest, pacing for a moment. “We have wondered about it. Why we cannot just have one form. Why we shift into something that we innately despise—We have no love of human flesh. The taste is detestable. The Kalistar used to say... No. It does not matter what that one said anymore. That was a long time ago and it sleeps now.” He reached his hand out, Draco taking it and standing. “Meet us. I promise, we are good people for all our many marks.”
Draco did not need Matten to tell him that. He could feel it in the air. There was a safety to the village. A little run down, maybe. A little too quiet while everyone stared at Draco with strange, desiring looks. Some of loss, some of lust, many of curiosity. It was a place Draco might have been before, but had no memory of. The smell was alien, and yet familiar. Even Hermione, cautious still and alarmed by all the scars around her, did not seem frightened even when surround by so many Vesper. Her spell was working, and the dragons were soothed by the purr the many shifters made.
They brought Draco to the center of the village, to a beautiful dwelling nestled within a large circled clearing. Wide cloth squares spread above the clearing to protect from weather and sun, a stunning chaos of color and pattern swirling overhead and bouncing off the pale flesh of those shaded beneath. There was a large fire pit surrounded by a stone wall in front of the elaborately decorated building. Unlike the other simple structures, this one had a domed roof, metal the color of copper flashing in the sun where light broke through. Beneath the colorful canopy, blankets and pillows were spread out on the packed dirt.
“This is where we gather as a community. To eat, rest, and tell stories.” Matten pointed to the stairs that led into the building amidst the clearing. Satin pillows sprawled on the limestone porch, the area divided every five feet by a tall pillar. “You would live here, by the fire. Where everyone could find you and gaze upon you. You would never have to seek for food or drink. Companions would always be near for play and learning. And of course, to touch whenever you desired.”
Draco blushed, Hermione snickering under her breath. He would be on display, like some treasured doll on a mantel. He let Matten lead him around the fire pit, currently filled with ash and remnants of charred wood and bone. The stairs rose above, close enough for heat, but in a way that would keep smoke from flooding the area. Up close, he could see pelts of fur of all kinds, skinned and extremely soft to the touch littering the stairs and wide porch, along with the many pillows. It was primitive, but luxurious. He would be almost like a prince to sprawl out and expect to be served food by beautiful servants... who would then wish to touch him... Draco ducked his head, his cheeks flaming hotter.
“They definitely know how to set up an outdoor bed, huh?” Hermione murmured, running her hands across a soft fox pelt.
Draco snapped his head up, his mouth gaping. “It's not a—”
“It is so to a bed,” Hermione said with a wry smirk. “A bed that extends out around this entire area. Look at the pillows under the canopy. The entire center of the village is a communal bed. Good luck to you, Malfoy, because you're totally going to need it.”
Draco scowled, certain he had turned red from his head down to his toes at this point. Matten only confirmed it, chuckling lowly and purring softly under his breath. “You are shy. That was unexpected too.” He brushed Draco's cheek, the boy's eyes widening from the touch. “Do not worry, lovely halfling. None of us will gobble you up.”
Matten took another step closer and thrummed louder, Draco feeling suddenly weak in the knees. It was either fall or grab the man's wide shoulders, which he did unsteadily. “D-don't,” he whispered, Matten's head tilted and too close, breath moving over his face, fingers resting on Draco's chin as he raised his head up.
“We do not take what is not freely given,” Matten promised softly, fingers dragging over Draco's jaw in a caress. “Even though you call so loudly, halfling. Even though you do not understand just how much you belong with us. We will not harm you in any way. I give you my word. Just having you here among us, breathing our air, sharing our laughter, is more than enough.”
Draco really wanted to believe that but his body was telling a very different story. “Stop humming... please...”
“You are so beautiful...” Matten mussed, his hum softening but not completely gone. He gently brushed Draco's hair back, Draco trying very hard not to feel anything from the touch but friendship. It was not easy, and a part of him hated this strangeness inside that had no boundaries. “It must be a feature of your kind. To keep you protected. If we cannot look away from you, young one, we will surely know that you are safe.”
Matten reached his hand up, Draco shivering when he felt his feathers being touched, the tips of his ears, the longer smooth ones framing his face. “It is very difficult to look away from you with your pretty feathers and shimmering scales. You glow so much brighter than the rest of us. We could throw you in the pit and I think you'd be brighter than the fire.” He said it teasingly, but there was something that looked akin to pain in his eyes.
“Maybe you should let go now,” Hermione said when it seemed like Matten was going to stand and stare at Draco all day. She carefully pulled Draco back and away from the man, keeping her hands on his shoulders so he wouldn't sway too much. “The building there, is that where he would stay? Inside?”
“Yes,” Matten said, shaking himself and turning towards where the girl was pointing. “It has been kept as a place of importance, our council gathering to discuss what must be discussed. But it was always meant for a halfling. We did not want one, you see. They bring trouble with the humans...” He glanced again at Draco, looking as if torn. Draco wondered if Matten and the other Vesper struggled the way he did, these strange instincts pulling for things that did not fit into the norm of their lives.
The building was cool, the shaded clay walls keeping the summer heat away. The Vesper seemed to like color, each room an inviting bold shade ranging from pomegranate, plum, emerald, gold and periwinkle. Complementary shaded curtains lined each large window, no glass installed to stop the air from flowing in. Incense scented the halls around them, sweet and heady. Draco honestly enjoyed the place. He tried not to think of it as a permanent home to stay, but there was a voice in the back of his mind that did not balk at the idea.
“As you can see, it's designed for your kind. Bathrooms, the upper one holding a large tub. The plumbing works—magical, of course. The same in the kitchen. The downstairs was our state room. It's up to you if you wish to continue its existence as that. There was a halfling recently, just some years before you at the castle. We upgraded the building, but as a group decided not to pursue the boy. There was so much unrest then, with your Dark Lords and killing each other. It just didn't seem wise...” Matten trailed off, eyes meeting Draco's.
“So you pick halflings as a group?” Hermione asked. “What made you decide Draco was the way to go? You braved a castle full of humans, magical at that. There must have been a good reason.”
“He is very strong,” Matten said carefully. “We could feel him, even this far away.”
“Feel me?” Draco asked, his skin prickling.
“Yes. The young ones with less control, they ran to you without our permission. Thankfully they held themselves back from approaching the castle and putting themselves in harm's way. But still, they had lost control, your call was so loud. We had to make a decision. The Kalistar halfling was such an unexpected complication. The males are so aggressive. Even now, I still wonder...”
Draco bit his lip, wrapping his arms around his torso. “It's just a tour, Matten. An introduction. I have no interest in conflict, and I can only hope the same of you.” He was already feeling too much for the Vesper. Their numerous injuries scarred on very human faces. It might have been easier if they had been ethereal and otherworldly like Hermione described seeing them through the glasses. Draco would be less likely to become attached to a fantasy, compared to something that felt so real.
There was a bedroom on the top floor that connected to the bath Matten had mentioned. The room nearly took up the entire top floor, and opened up onto an expansive balcony, the fire pit right below. Some villagers were looking up at him, but most were going about there day. It was a relief, knowing he wasn't the damn center of everyone's world. The air flowed in even nicer here, Draco staring out at the village with morning light slanting across. It somehow looked beautiful from up there, the peeling paint on the buildings and cruder style huts mysterious and full of character. Maybe he was just romanticizing... Or maybe he was finally relaxing.
“Now this is an indoor bed,” Hermione remarked, sitting on the large mattress. “They definitely have their priorities clear.”
It was a poster bed, twice the width of a king size, and taking up half the wall. Airy, white curtains decorated with ornamental twists of branches and dotted round red berries spanned between the posts. “You would not believe how soft this is.” She laid back with a sigh, her eyes closing. Draco couldn't blame her. The walk had been long, rest little, and their nerves were shot with questions of if they'd ever leave the Vesper village. Never mind if they'd live to. That one, at least, Draco felt was answered.
“Did you wish to rest?” Matten asked, brushing Draco's shoulder lightly with his hand. “I can have some food brought to you. Some of that tea you people seem to obsess over.”
Draco couldn't help but smile. He looked over at Hermione who looked about fast asleep already. “She's safe here, right? If I close my eyes, I won't have to worry about anyone hurting her?”
“Your presence has been calming us, halfling. You smell far more human than she does, and yet the young have lost their restlessness,” Matten said with a hint of surprise. “I'm sure she will be fine. I will lock the lower doors, just in case. Shifters will be here if you need anything.”
“Where will you—?” Draco stopped himself, wincing at the question. He should not care where the man would be. He should just be glad he wouldn't be with him.
Matten inhaled sharply, his gaze intense as it raked over Draco. “Ask me to stay, and I will.” The hand he had rested on Draco's shoulder he now used to wrap around the boy's waist, holding him close but still loose.
Fire raced through Draco, more concerning now since there was no purr to blame it on. “Ask me to lay with you, beautiful halfling, and I will.” Matten whispered into Draco's ear, lips brushing ever so lightly, sparking dangerous tingles through his skin. “Demand me to my knees, and I will gladly give you everything of me.”
“Oh hell...” Draco groaned, eyes falling shut as the world spun heatedly around him. “I... I can't, Matten... I love someone...”
Matten gave a low growl, lips brushing ever so softly to Draco's arched neck, shooting another spark with each touch. “I love someone too, Draco. You have seen him, but yet to truly meet him.”
Draco swallowed hard, trying to get control of himself. “The burned one... that helped guide us here...”
“Yes, Zyan. He is strong and fierce... and does not glow as you do...”
“I'm sorry,” Draco whispered, putting his hands to the man's shoulders and pushing back. “I am so sorry that I am like this.”
Matten caught one of Draco's wrists, bringing his hand to his lips and tracing the knuckles slowly. His eyes pierced into Draco, confusion and desire warring. “It is the way of us Vesper... This is our nature, just in taller forms, little one. Your resistance is what is strange to us. Your shyness, your...”
“Humanity.” Draco smiled weakly, taking another step away. Matten's arm fell from his waist, letting him go without opposition. “I'm... I'm tired.”
“Then you should rest.” Matten held Draco's hand a moment longer, his warm fingers squeezing gently before letting go. “We will have a feast tonight, to welcome you and your guest. You will see us in our element and at ease.”
Draco nodded dumbly, clutching the window until Matten gave a wry smile and quick bow. The man left, closing the door behind him. Draco slumped against the wall, staring out at the building roofs without seeing them.
“I don't know how the hell you did that,” Hermione said from the bed, her eyes still closed.
Draco shook himself, turning to look at the girl. “What?”
“Got that man to his knees and then out the door. He's a leader, you know. One of their strongest willed. That's why they sent him to collect you. They needed someone that could fight your allure. Instead he seems more a puddle now, definitely in the slush range of things.”
Draco frowned at the observation, kicking his shoes off as he approached the mammoth sized bed. He sat lightly, closing his eyes as the softness enveloped him. It smelled of incense, dark spices and soothing sleep. “I've done nothing to break his will.”
Hermione shrugged, opening an eye to peek at him from her halo of dark curls. “You pulse at him, at all of them. They can't help but answer.”
“If I do, it's not intentional. I'm... disconnected from that other part of me. Harry told me I was changing. That I had grown wings, and was changing... But I can't control that side. Not with the ring.” He looked down at the silver dragon ring, clenching his hand into a fist and watching his knuckles turn white.
“It doesn't make it any less true,” Hermione said bluntly. “Don't get me wrong. These guys are totally pursuing you. I think Matten would have thrown you up against the wall right then, if he didn't think you'd leave over it. But a part of you, even if you can't control it or even feel it, is calling for attention. Apparently as far as the castle is to this village.”
Draco really didn't know what to say. The Vesper had heard him from so far away. He hadn't even known he'd been making a noise. Draco had always been a quiet person—From the day he realized the consequences of noise with the dangers his parents brought into his home.
“You were lonely a lot.”
Draco nodded, sinking back on the bed. He had been very lonely. Even when Harry had returned, there had been so much fear in him that the boy would die and leave him alone again. “I hadn't wanted to get married. I hadn't wanted to live that life my mother had set out for me.”
“This place isn't so bad,” Hermione said after the silence had stretched. “And that's from the viewpoint of someone not anticipating a pile of silver haired beauties at my beck and call twenty-four, seven. They seem determined to make sure you have everything you could ever want.”
Draco pursed his lips, folding his hands under his head and staring up at the silk and branches above him. “They're all so wounded. I don't think a single one of them lacks a terrible scar. These people have capable warriors. They can't just be letting themselves be hurt. They could be instigating as much as they suffer.”
“I was thinking that,” Hermione agreed. “He kept glossing over the Kalistar, as well. But I remember; Matten said it was sleeping. Not dead. I bet it might be here, somewhere in the village or surrounding area. If they bothered to let it live, I bet they protect it as well. They seem very community driven.”
Draco thought back to what Matten had said about the Kalistar. Something about why the Vesper transformed into the creatures they had grown to despise. There must be a reason. Maybe it wasn't always this way.
“Do you think Harry's alive?” Draco asked, the question sounding loud in the large room. But Hermione had fallen asleep, and Draco was left to wonder alone.
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Intangible