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One That Stood Alone	By : tsubasagahoushi Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 3109 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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
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Title: One That d Ald Alone
Author: tsubasagahoushi
Pairings: eventually Harry/Draco, Hermione/Ron, and maybe some more later on
Disclaimer: I am a poor, poor college student who does not own anything... much less the rights to these characters. Those are all the great genius of J.K. Rowling and the respective publishers...
A/N: If there's anything in particular you'd like to see happen, feel free to suggest it because I very well may heed your thoughts! If anyone seems out of character, something is off in reference to the books, or anything at all just sounds wrong, feel free to let me know that too. I hope you enjoy it.
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"Can I sit here? Or would you like to brood alone- I know that's the usual way it's done afterall. Solitary act, really." Harry looked up te Lue Luna Lovegood standing at the compartment door. He couldn't help but give a small smile and shake of the head. Luna was still the oddball she had been in fifth year when he had first met her, but the girl had proved to be one of the few who could bring him out of his horrible moods. He supposed it was because she never expected him to force happiness, but rather would ask odd questions in order to steer conversation to a more inane and interesting topic.

"Sure, Luna." She had already sat across from him before he had even replied. Didn't seem she truly cared whether he agreed to pre presence or not.

Turning his attention back to the scenery as it by, by, Harry allowed his eyes to unfocus and body slacken once again. He hadn't spoken to Ron or Hermione since yesterday when they were shopping. There would be no chance to speak to them now, either, since Hermione was Head Girl and had her own compartment- no doubt in which Ron was residing. Besides, Ron was prefect once more and so had to attend a short meeting on the train before arriving at the school. Harry had been offered the position last year, but had politely turned it down. Professor Dumbledore was right; he didn't need any more responsibilities.

"Gone." Harry lifted his head, one eyebrow raised in inquiry at Luna's sudden observation. She stared at him for several minutes before glancing to the empty space in the rest of the compartment. Hogwarts' population was dwindling since the war, so it wasn't that difficult to find an empty compartment for oneself. "Your friends... Hermione Granger and..." she tilted her head to the side as if in thought. "Ronald Weasley. That's it. Weasley. Funny name; brings to mind the image of a weasel." Her eyes focused back on Harry and he couldn't help but stifle a tired laugh. Only Luna would draw the same conclusion to Ron as Draco Malfoy. "Where have they gone?"

"Prior responsibilities." Harry gave the slightest shrug of his shoulders. "Probably snogging each other senseless, as well." Luna nodded at this, and took to examining the ceiling with the utmost concentration. Harry was about to continue his own concentrated stare on the passing scenery when he stopped himself. Luna would know- if anyone other than the Weasleys and Hermione knew about the deaths, it would be Luna. Her father was the editor of The Quibbler, afterall. The girl also seemed to have an almost odd fascination with the war since it had begun- as though she was taking it personally as well.

"Luna..." She swayed her head back to face Harry, eyes wider than usual if that was at all possible. "I was wondering... could you tell wel well, that is- do you know who's died over the summer?" Harry wasn't the most subtle person, and even if he was it would be wasted on her. Just as usual, whenever the conversation turned to the war Luna's expression changed dramatically. Her eyes became hooded and her voice cold.

"Neville Longbottom- pity, really... he was becoming a fine man. Your old professor... the Defense Against the Dark Arts one.. what was his name?" Harry felt his heart plummet into his stomach. Was this why Hermione and Ron hadn't told him? If Lupin was dead... Harry truly had no one left. When was the last time he had received a letter from him? Had there been any as of late? "Odd fellow... but he wasn't really the professor, was he? That's right. Sad Eye Sooty? No, that's not right..." Harry visibly collapsed back into his chair. The room was swimming and he vaguely heard Luna continue as though nothing was wrong at all. "Mad Eye Moody. That's right. Right."

She went on to list the names of all those whom had died- even the muggles. Seventy-three total. There had been some losses on Voldemort's side, but not many. Among the remaining dead whom Harry knew wiktoiktor Krum. Perhaps that was why Hermione had become so upset. They had both kept in contact through the years, and he had joined the Order in hopes of getting closer to her. Viktor had also wanted to help Harry... he had said that it wasn't fair that one boy had to take it all on his own. Harry felt as though someone had forced a barrel of ash down his throat. Another name. Another loss. All because Harry Potter was too weak to end it when it should have been.

The trolley came around and Luna bought several chocolate frogs, letting them jump about the compartment freely without even the inclination to eat them. Harry turned his gaze back on the scenery flashing by. A storm was brewing and the sky had darkened. A pleasant omen for their last year at Hogwarts.

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"Harry Potter!" Harry knew that voice and could barely hold back the groan lodged in his throat. Dumbledore's twinkle was missing from the night's speech which was not a good sign. Ron and Hermione paused ahead, turning back to wait for Harry. He hadn't told them he was sorry for his outburst the other day, but they had sat near him during dinner which was something- even though there hadn't been one word said.

"Go ahead. I'll catch up." Harry turned away from his two best friends before he could see the pained understanding in their eyes. He wasn't sure how much longer he could take it. If it wasn't pity, it was hope. Such desperate hope they all held for him. Hope that he couldn't even grasp himself.

"Dumbledore would like to see me, I'm assuming, Professor." McGonagall nodded, placing one hand on Harry's shoulder. Funny how he remembered when she used to bend down to meet him, but now she had to tilt her head upwards slightly. Harry merely nodded once. It seemed Dumbledore always had something to tell him. Not that it ever made much of a difference. At least Dumbledore didn't have the desperate hope in his eyes like the others. He couldn't handle being the entire world's savior. He wasn't made for that; he was just Harry. Just Harry Potter, the sodding Boy Who Lived.

"Mint Meltaway." The staircase appeared and Harry began the familiar climb. He heard hushed whispering and cleared his throat before entering the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore turned, the familiar, serene smile on his face. He was standing near the portraits of the previous headmasters whom all had decided to turn and stare at Harry simultaneously.

" in, in, come in, Harry. Have a seat." Harry took his familiar place in the chair before Dumbledore's desk. He tried not to slouch completely into the chair, but it didn't hold the best of memories for him. Dumbledore swept behind his own desk, hesitating at a teapot on an elevated brass table. "Cup of tea?"

"No, thank you, Professor. What was it you wished to speak to me about?" Dumbledore seemed to catch the curt tone in Harry's voice. The old man's smile faded and he sat in his own chair, folding his hands together and placing them across his chest.

"Yes, yes. Understandable. Understandable, indeed. I take it you have found what has transgressed this summer?" Harry merely nodded. Not that he had been of any help; Harry was sure Dumbledore had dropped the hint to his friends that Harry need not know all that went on. No, especially not after what happened last year and the confrontation with the Dark Lord.

"Harry, we have spoken of last year's... incident." Harry averted his gaze from the older man. He didn't want to hear this. It had been enough last year. Harry knew; he understood that his actions had been irrational and irresponsible. Couldn't have the precious boy of prophecy killed that soon, could we? "Under these circumstances, I wish for you to take additional training with the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor." Harry merely nodded. It wasn't as though he had a choice, and he was sure the extra training could be of use.

"Yes, Professor." Dumbledore nodded gravely, and Harry stood to leave. It seemed that the Headmaster had more to say, but the room remained silent. He did not want to witness Dumbledore's desperation. It would be this year. Harry would not let it go on any longer.

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Draco heard the knock at his door and pulled his robes over himself. There was another knock and Draco reached for his wand. Opening the door, the first thing Blaise saw was Draco's wand directly in front of his face.

"Who do you serve?"

"None other than myself."

"Right, then." Draco lowered his wand and moved to the side, allowing Blaise to enter his room. Head Boy was allowed his own quarters away from the rest of the student b but but near the Head Girl which had its downfalls since it happened to be Granger. Fancy that. Not as though he had seen that one coming.

"Nice place you got here. Really, I don't think it's fair. 'Course now you're stuck next to the Gryffindor's Number One, and I can't say I would wish that upon anyone." Blaise turned to find Draco leaned against the back of the door, head hanging and his hair grazing the pale skin beneath his robes. "Drake?"

"How many times... have I told you... not to call me that?" His voice was low and shook when he spoke. Just as Blaise was about to move closer, Draco collapsed in front of the door.

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Harry was on his way to Hermione's room after having stopped by the common room first. He had forgotten that Head Girl got her own rooms. As he rounded yet another corner, he was about to go back and get the Marauder's Map to find where the accursed room was when he came face to face with one Blaise Zabini, an all too familiar limp figure hanging from the Slytherin's shoulder.

"Hey there, Potter." Harry raised an eyebrow, taking in the limp figure which now seemed to be convulsing slightly.

"What happened to Malfoy?" The panic was evident in Blaise's eyes and for once the usually talkative Slytherin was out of words. Harry wasn't sure if it was the hero in him, or the helpless shaking form before him, but he lifted Draco's other side, gently slng tng the boy's free arm about his shoulders. There was a choking gurgle before the deathly pale boy spat blood. The sounds echoed throughout the hallway, both Harry and Blaise glancing up on instinct to see if anyone had heard.

"Well, if it isn't the hero himself." Draco looked up at Harry from under thick lashes and glacier blue met forest green. He couldn't help but feel a pull similar to that of a portkey. Tearing his gaze from Harry's, Draco dropped his head to stare at the floor. Now was definately not the time, and he couldn't bear to hold his head up for much longer lest the hall's spinning cause him to vomit up his life's blood again. "Get Sev. Tell him the new curse works all too well."

Blaise was off after a nod from Harry. Harry then snaked his free arm about Draco's waist.

"Making your move, eh Potter? Didn't know blood turned you on." There was more coughing and Draco covered his mouth with his free hand.

"Right, Malfoy. I've been dreaming of this moment since first year. Us two alone in a corridor, you bleeding and so weak you can barely stand. I have to say, I never thought it was going to happen." Draco growled and Harry couldn't help but allow the corners of his mouth to lift in a sort of half-smile. After the initial banter, the two sworn enemies began the solemn walk to the infirmary, interrupted only by Draco's occasional gasp and cough. Once they had arrived, Madame Pomfrey bustled them over to a bed.

"Professor Snape will be coming..."

"Yes, yes, I know, Potter. Just get young Mr. Malfoy to the bed before he collapses. Honestly, I don't know how the boy has managed to endure both the Cruciatus and an eternal bloodflow curse! It shouldn't even be possible; and to know that magic won't work on him- this is going to take quite some time to heal, Malfoy." Harry eased Draco onto the bed, looking at the boy under the lights of the infirmary almost sickened him. Malfoy was typically pale, but it seemed that all of his color had drained from his body. It was only after Malfoy was gone from his side that Harry saw the crimson on his hands. Furrowing his brow, he noticed that Malfoy's robes were soaked in blood and some of it had seeped into Harry's own. There was a strained laugh from the bed.

"You're marked, Potter. In my blood. Now you're mine." Before Harry could retort and wipe the smirk off Malfoy's face, the boy's eyes rolled into his head and fluttered closed. There was a rushing sound in Harry's ears and the entire room seemed to sway. Was Malfoy...

"Come now, Potter, out of the way! The boy needs to be cleaned up. Come on! Out with you!" Harry snapped himself out of his shock and turned, allowing Pomfrey to shoo him away from the immediate vacinity of the bed. Within minutes, Draco was stripped down and Harry couldn't help but stand and stare. The boy was almost covered in blood; how had no one noticed? There were rolls of soaked bandages which Pomfrey discared. His pale chest was marred with angry gashes oozing thick, crimson blood.

"Potter." Harry visibly jumped, his hand already on his wand. The hand on his shoulder slid off, and Snape moved to block his view of Draco. One eyebrow raised, Snape regarded Harry's hand which was still on his wand. "You may relax, Potter. I won't be hexing you anytime soon. That is, unless you speak of this to anyone." The Potions professor loomed over Harry, leaning in closely. "You are not to speak of what you have seen here to anyone. Is that understood?"

"But Professor-"

"Is that understood, Potter?" Harry stepped back, eyes narrowing. He nodded once and turned on his heel. Snape didn't want him to tell anyone; just how had Malfoy been hexed so badly? Would he be alright? Hesitating at the doorway, Harry glanced back to catch one last glance at the shimmering blond's head. And why did he care?
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One That Stood Alone