Devil's Snare | By : lashton Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 13009 -:- 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. |
Title: Devil's Snare
Rating: R
Word Count: 513
002: Hours
Paring: Harry/Draco
Summary: Harry is told to bring Draco to the light side of the war at any cost. Post-HBP, HPDM!D/s, dubious consent, Post-Hogwarts, war!fic.
Disclaimer: Unoriginal characters and situations belong to JKRowling. No copyright infringement is intended.
Table of Contents found at http://www.livejournal.com/users/mahoganyhandle/9713.html
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"The good news is," Hermione continued, some moments later, having recomposed herself, "there is a counter-curse."
"I gather," replied Harry. "What's the bad news? I'm guessing there's bad news, by the way you've phrased it."
"Yes. It's this: only the person who cast the curse can successfully cast the counter-curse. Only Malfoy can end this. I'm sorry."
"No," said Harry, rising and shrugging on a jacket. He pulled his wand out of his pocket. "No, I imagine he knew that I'd be back around." Hermione nodded, guardedly. He wondered about the curse, about its origins, about its goal, about the fact that the only person who could end the blight of dirty blood was the one who'd cast the curse in the first place…. It was intriguing, but Harry was in no state to ponder the details.
Hermione began to pack up the books she'd borrowed from the Ministry library. When Harry had fled to her side, jittery with discomfort, and barely explained his symptoms, Hermione had rushed to his aid. She wasn't supposed to take books from the library for personal use, but Harry had accosted her and she had always been receptive to Harry's needs.
Smiling sadly, she offered, "Good luck."
Harry nodded then apparated away. He reappeared in a dirty, smelly alley in the Wizarding Quarter, Wiltshire. Rumor had it that Malfoy spent most of his time in an exclusive club across town from his manor. Rumor didn't supply any hints on what it was that he did there, and as far as Harry could tell from his last visit, there wasn't much to be done.
For the second time, Harry entered through a heavy wooden door with chipped red paint flecks at its foot, an odd little crunchy welcome mat. A burly wizard greeted him, checking his wand in security, and keying him into a fidelity spell (which somehow did not extend to Draco Malfoy, blast it), and sent him through into the main hall.
"Welcome to The Hours, Sir," said a chipper, pretty young witch in chartreuse robes. She stood at his side with a sycophantic smile stuck on her face, and holding out a golden tray on which a golden goblet sat. "Complements of the house."
Harry took the goblet but did not drink, having learned his lesson from his first taste of Ambrosia three days prior. Ambrosia, a rich, sweet wine, was said to be the drink of gods which only the Labrusca wizarding family could bring to life. Dulcea Labrusca, heiress to the Ambrosia dynasty, owned and ran this club. Harry had yet to find out what was so appealing about it.
"I would like a word with Mr. Malfoy," Harry said to the hostess.
Her smile faltered. "Mr. Malfoy is not to be disturbed today."
"He will see me. Just tell him that Harry Potter is waiting for him in the main hall."
"I will pass on the message, sir, and will tell you what is his response."
"Thank you. Make certain to tell him that I said he's kept me waiting long enough."
TBC
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