Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Whispers of a Rising Darkness	By : ymecdyen Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 1398 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Harry Potter and all characters of said universe herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. I make no profit. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
A/n: Sorry about the delay on the update, my laptop doesn't like this website very much apparently. :(

Part 2

The Manor seemed different to what Harry remembered, though he'd only ever been there once before. It may have just been the memory of Hermione's screams as she was being tortured by Bellatrix that may have altered his perception of the place at the time, but it seemed a lot more welcoming, with a brighter atmosphere than last time. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact he was a guest this time rather than a prisoner.

“Did you redecorate?” Harry asked as they entered the large front hall, greeted by a couple of house-elves who took their cloaks.

Malfoy gave him an odd look. “Not exactly. What makes you think that?”

“I don't know. It just... feels different, I suppose,” Harry said, giving voice to his thoughts. “Like its warmer or something. I can't really explain it.”

“Why doesn't it surprise me that you of all people can sense that,” Malfoy said rolling his eyes, leading the way up the curving staircase to the second floor. “Mother had the Manor purged shortly after the war.”

“Purged?” Harry asked intrigued, trailing close behind him.

Malfoy nodded. “The Manor has never been pure. Over the years, its been tainted by the use of the Dark Arts by several Malfoy generations. When the Dark Lord settled here, the dark magic spread, making this place almost unbearable to live in. It cost a fair amount of galleons to purify the magic, but mother was adamant that it had to be done,” he shrugged, leading them down a wide corridor. “The warmer atmosphere you're sensing is the result of the purified magic.”

Malfoy came to a halt before a couple of wide-set double doors; large ornately carved M's spread over the front panels. He lifted a hand, hesitating as it hovered over the door handle. Harry looked at him curiously, wondering why he was faltering over opening the door. Malfoy's eyes were wide in fear, darting every which way, seeing things around them that Harry couldn't.

After only a moments debate, Harry laid a hand on his arm. Malfoy started, staring at him as the world around them faded to be replaced by the broken scenery of purgatory. Shadows flickered all around them, lacking the usual chittering and snarling that signalled the presence of minor demons. Harry's eyes narrowed, noting they almost looked like smoky, blurred silhouettes of human figures.

“Take us.”

“Ours.”

“Take us.”

Their voices were static and unclear, like coming through a radio on a bad connection, but Harry was still able to make out what they said. The shadows slid towards them and Malfoy inched closer to Harry, until his back was pressed against Harry's chest. He could feel Malfoy shivering, whether it be from the cold wind or fear of the shadows, and he curled an arm around his chest, holding him close in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.

“It's all right. I've got you.” He whispered impulsively in Malfoy's ear, aiming his wand at a shadow when it drew a little too close. It faltered, as though recognising the threat, before sliding away in retreat. “They can't harm you, Malfoy. I won't let them.”

Malfoy took a deep shuddering breath, leaning heavily against Harry as he slowly calmed himself. Harry rubbed his arm in comfort and encouragement, keeping a sharp eye on the shadows. They seemed content enough to simply watch from a distance, whispering their strange mantra over and over again.

“Ours.”

“Take us.”

“Ours.”

Malfoy shivered again, closing his eyes. The scenery spun and faded like before, leaving them back in the Manor corridor, standing before the library doors. Tilting his head back so it rested on Harry's shoulder, Malfoy gave him a weak smile.

Harry found himself smiling back. From his close proximity, he could make out the blue and amber flecks that made up the general light grey hue of Malfoy's eyes. Malfoy's tongue poked out as he licked his lips, drawing Harry's attention down to his mouth. His lips were plump, parted ever so slightly as though begging to be kissed.

Before he realised what he was doing, Harry leant in, close enough to feel the puff of Malfoy's warm breath ghost over his mouth. Malfoy's eyes fluttered shut, his chin tilting up expectantly. Harry almost gave in to the temptation to close the gap, to taste Malfoy's no doubt sweet lips and lose himself in the moment. But the thought of why he was here, who they still had to fight, forced Harry to draw back and step away, shoving whatever attraction he had for Malfoy to one side.

Not meeting Malfoy's no doubt angry gaze, Harry stepped past him to push open the double doors. He paused just beyond the threshold, engulfed by a cold, harsh feeling that churned his stomach and tightened his face. It was the atmosphere he'd felt when he'd been captured and first brought to the Manor; the result of dark magic tainting the air.

Malfoy halted beside him, his twisted expression a clear indicator that he felt it too. “I don't understand. Mother made sure the whole Manor was purged.”

Keeping his wand in hand, Harry walked slowly into the wide room, looking carefully at his surroundings. The room was wide and oval, with a high domed ceiling. A thin balcony ran along the entire edge of the room, expanding out onto a second floor at the far end. Aisles of huge bookshelves filled to the brim with books took up most of the space, the rest occupied by a couple of study tables covered by mounds of even more books, and ornate velvet chairs.

He picked up a book off the top of a pile, eyebrows raising as he read the title: “Dead, But Never Gone.”

“What are you looking for exactly, Potter?” Malfoy snapped, approaching the table.

“Something,” Harry replied, cryptically. In truth, he wasn't certain himself. Malfoy glared at him in impatience, but huffed and walked off to look through the books on the other table when it became clear Harry wasn't going to expand on his answer.

Harry sifted through his pile, finding more books dealing with life after death. Nothing especially dark, mostly works by people who knew nothing about what lay beyond the veil and making a profit over other's grief by offering them false hope. Clearly, Narcissa had been reading through these in search for comfort over Lucius' death.

He shifted the pile to one side, starting on the next. The first couple were more of the same sentimental drivel that Harry quickly discarded. Feeling annoyed, he picked up the next one and roughly slammed it onto the table, the action ripping part of the rotten leather bound binding. Harry winced, hearing Hermione's scolding voice in the back of his mind. Glancing over at Malfoy to see if he noticed, Harry adjusted the cover to hide the damage before carefully opening the book.

It was old and musty, with brittle yellowing pages, stained here and there by ink blotches. The cover page was ripped out, leaving Harry intrigued as he flipped straight to the contents. His stomach dropped unpleasantly as he read through the list. “Oh, Narcissa. You foolish woman,” he whispered.

“Potter! I think I've found something,” Malfoy called. He lifted up a sheet of parchment as Harry approached, covered in elegant hand-written scrawls. “Mother seems to have made loads of notes about something called-”

“Extollo Prucuro,” Harry interrupted, gently placing the ancient tome he'd discovered on the table before Malfoy. “It's a Dark Arts book, specialising in summoning demons from purgatory.”

Malfoy stared at the book in disbelief, running a hand over the page as he read through the contents. “But, why would my mother read this?” he asked, frowning at Harry when he didn't answer. “Surely you're not daft enough to believe she would actually attempt to summon a demon?”

“I think she might,” Harry replied, making sure to keep his voice gentle. “People sometimes do crazy things, things out of their normal behaviour, in order to deal with their grief.”

“But summoning a demon?” Malfoy exclaimed. “Why in Merlin's name would she do that? What would it accomplish?”

Harry eyed Malfoy for a moment, wondering how to explain. “Do you know how demons are created?” he asked eventually.

Malfoy blinked and scowled in confusion at the sudden shift in conversation, shaking his head. “No, Potter. Care to enlighten me?”

Folding his arms over his chest, Harry leant back against the table. “When people die, they are given many choices. The majority choose to move on, to travel to whatever awaits them beyond the veil and the broken plains of purgatory. Some are too attached to their previous lives, choosing to remain as lingering half-entities known as ghosts or poltergeists.” he explained. “Then there are the rare few, the ones afraid to move on but have no attachment to the realm of the living. These are the ones that remain in purgatory.”

“Purgatory is a terrible place, morphing the souls that remain into heartless creatures with no remorse or morals. They are what we know as demons. The majority change into minor demons, like the one you saw before. But sometimes, there is the rare soul that morphs into something so much more intelligent, and ever so much more deadly. Those are the major demons.”

“I still don't understand what that has to do with my-,”

“Think about it Malfoy,” Harry interrupted. “Narcissa somehow found out someone very dear to her, someone she loved, had become a demon, and summoned them temporarily to this realm.”

Malfoy's eyes widened in comprehension. “My father?”

Harry met his gaze and nodded, solemnly. “I know for a fact your father is a demon. Narcissa probably only wanted to meet him again, to be together with the one she loved once more. That wish though, that desire, is what cost her life.”

Swallowing hard, Malfoy sunk heavily into the velvet chair behind him, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “You're saying my father killed my mother?”

“Demons hold no compassion for the living, any love they may have felt for another banished from their beings the moment they change. They feast on the essence of live souls in an attempt to compensate for that emptiness, that feeling of loss. Narcissa's soul would have been far too tempting for Lucius to resist.”

Malfoy shut his eyes and shook his head, rubbing his hands over his face. Harry looked at him with pity, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. Malfoy slid his hand over Harry's and squeezed back, his head still bowed.

“How did she know?” Malfoy asked after a moment, lifting his head to look at Harry. “How did she find out father had become a demon?”

Harry frowned. There were very few people who would know that sort of thing, most of which could only be found in purgatory. The only one they could really ask was Narcissa, but he had no way of knowing if she was still in purgatory herself, or had already moved on.

“You said it was Narcissa that told you to come to me for help?” he asked. “Can you hear her now? Do you know if she's still in purgatory?”

“After what you've told me, I really hope not,” Malfoy muttered, before closing his eyes. He sat there for a few moments, frowning in concentration. When he began to shiver, Harry knelt before him, placing his hands over his knees, absently stroking with his thumbs. Malfoy shook his head again, opening his eyes. “It's no good, all I can hear is the usual, 'take us, ours', thing.”

“Can't you try blocking those voices out?” Harry suggested. “Surely you have some control over your abilities?”

Malfoy glared. “If I did, then I wouldn't be having so much trouble with them, would I?”

Harry gave him a patient smile, when the thought occurred to him. “You said you've had these powers since you were little, right?”

“Yes, but they faded after I started ignoring them.”

“But that only happened after you told Narcissa what you could see. And when she died, they manifested again.”

Malfoy's frown deepened. “What are you getting at, Potter?”

“I think Narcissa knew what your abilities were, and that scared her,” Harry replied, making sure his tone wasn't at all accusatory to avoid raising Malfoy's hackles. “It sounds like she intentionally suppressed your powers, which explains why you have no control over them now. The spell she used would have weakened after her death, but its still in place. You still haven't got full access to your abilities.”

“Can you break the spell?” Malfoy asked, hopeful.

“Probably, but are you willing to take the risk?” Harry asked, getting to his feet. “There's a chance you still won't be able to control your powers, and the scope of your full abilities may be overwhelming.”

“Potter,” Malfoy said, his voice stern. “I want to do this. I need to do this. Please.”

Harry eyed him for a moment, taking in the line of his set jaw and the way his grey eyes blazed with a stubborn determination. “All right,” he said, voice soft.

“Red sheets, Potter?” Malfoy asked as he perched himself on the edge of Harry's bed. “Once a Gryffindork, always a Gryffindork.”

Harry ignored him, focusing on keeping the powdered fire-flower within the groove he'd etched into the floor. They'd apparated back to his flat, Harry insisting that it would be the easiest place to conduct the short ritual that would hopefully lift Narcissa's suppression spell.

“What are you doing?” Malfoy asked in a demanding and rather petulant tone, folding his arms.

“Making a protection circle, certified to keep unwanted pests, such as demons, at bay,” Harry explained, clapping his hands together to rid them of the excess powder. All he had left to do now was invoke the spell that would raise the wards.

He cast a side-long glance at Malfoy, drawing his wand. “You might want to remove your shirt or it'll get ruined,” he said, turning away.

The bed creaked from behind him as Malfoy moved. “Shall I remove my trousers too?” he asked.

Harry froze mid-wave, the question conjuring pictures of a naked Malfoy sprawled out over his bed, seductive and inviting. He made a strangled noise, his libido stirring in interest.

“Potter?”

“I'm thinking,” Harry replied eventually.

“Potter?" Malfoy asked again, this time his tone lighter and more flirtatious.

Harry shook his head, mentally scolding himself. He'd already decided that now wasn't the appropriate time to pursue his attraction to Malfoy. He turned to face the man with a smile he could feel was weak and not at all convincing. “Best keep them on,” he replied lightly, quickly turning away again.

He heard Malfoy huff and mutter something under his breath, but tuned him out as he incanted the spell to invoke the circle ward. A yellow sheet rose from the floor, enclosing them within a bubble of magic that surrounded the area around the bed.

“Lie down in the middle of the bed,” Harry instructed, focusing on the task at hand as he climbed onto the mattress to kneel beside Malfoy.

Once the man had settled, Harry placed his wand against Malfoy's chest, just above his heart. He felt Malfoy tense and placed a gentle restraining hand on his arm, but he didn't try to move.

“What happens now?” Malfoy asked.

“Now I ask if you're sure you want to do this,” Harry replied, wanting to make sure Malfoy knew what he was asking for. “Because there's no going back. Once the dead realise you can hear and see them all the time, they'll do everything they can to get your attention. Ignoring them won't work any more, and if you still can't control your abilities, there'll be no way to block them out.”

“Just get on with it, Potter,” Malfoy snapped, though Harry detected a slight quaver in his voice. “I've already made up my mind.”

Not wanting to press the matter in case Malfoy lost all his courage, Harry began to chant, tracing circular patterns over his chest. Black lines followed the trail of Harry's wand, creating thick curling runic markings that marred the porcelain skin like a crude tattoo. Malfoy hissed in discomfort and glanced down to see Harry's work, a frown forming on his face.

He took a breath, no doubt to protest being branded even if it was a necessary part of the ritual, but a single quelling look from Harry had him closing his mouth with a sharp click.

“Abrumpo obscuro aspectus canor mortis,” Harry chanted, the runes glowing a dull white like a muted lumos as he retraced them with his wand. “Recreo lateo aspectus canor mortis.”

Malfoy let out a grunt of pain, his back arching and his hands scrabbling for purchase on the sheets. Harry rubbed his hand up and down Malfoy's arm, hoping it was reassuring and comforting.

“Deliquesco!” Harry cast, swiping his wand through the air.

Malfoy's eyes widened and his mouth opened in a silent scream. He let out a throaty gurgling noise before finally slumping back against the mattress, breathing heavily. The runes on his chest faded and thankfully disappeared without a trace, meaning the ritual was a success. He didn't think Malfoy would thank him if Harry had left him with another permanent unwanted tattoo.

“You all right?” Harry asked, tucking his wand away.

Malfoy didn't reply, staring blankly up at the canopy, his breath ragged.

“Malfoy?” Harry asked, leaning over him so he was in Malfoy's line of vision. “Can you hear me? You okay?”

“-eople,” Malfoy breathed, an unexpected tear rolling down his cheek. “All those people, those poor poor people.”

Harry frowned, gathering Malfoy in his arms when the man began to shiver. Malfoy clutched at Harry like a life-line, burying his face in his robes.

“I can't stop them, there's so many,” Malfoy muttered incoherently. He gasped, his grip on Harry's robes tightening. “I'm theirs. I belong to them.”

Harry grabbed Malfoy by the shoulders and pushed him back so he could look him directly in the face as he spoke. His eyes were clouded, flickering every which-way as though unable to focus on one thing. Harry grimaced, having known that access to his full abilities would be completely overwhelming and felt guilty for not making that perfectly clear to him.

“You have to concentrate, Malfoy,” Harry said, speaking slowly yet clearly since he had to compete with what had to be hundreds of other voices. “Listen to the sound of my voice, focus on it and block all the rest out.”

Malfoy shook his head, blinking rapidly. “I can't, I can't,” he croaked. “It hurts. It hurts so much.”

“I know,” Harry said gently, smoothing back his hair from his forehead. Malfoy seemed to relax a little from the gesture. “But if you do this, it won't hurt any more. The pain will go away, the voices will stop. But you have to try, Malfoy.”

Malfoy took a deep shuddering breath, his eyes drifting shut as Harry stroked his hair, muttering meaningless words of comfort as he held him close. He didn't know how long they sat like that, wrapped around each other, until Malfoy finally pulled away, his eyes glassy from unshed tears but focused as he looked up at Harry.

“Well, that was unpleasant,” he grumbled.

Harry blinked at him, the unexpected statement drawing a huff of laughter from his lips. Malfoy smiled back, looking tired but pleased with himself. Harry leant down and brushed his lips against Malfoy's on impulse, only meaning it to be a quick, chaste kiss. But then Malfoy's lips were moving against his, a long fingered hand carding through Harry's hair to bring him closer, draw him deeper.

Unable to resist any longer, Harry shifted so he was partially draped over Malfoy, his leg resting between Malfoy's thighs. A tongue swiped over his bottom lip and Harry opened his mouth wider, allowing him entrance. Their tongues swiped and slid together in a sensual dance as their hands came into play, gripping and stroking each other's bodies in silent appreciation.

It was Harry who broke the kiss, forcing himself to pull away before they took things too far. The sight of Malfoy with puffy wet lips and mussed hair, eyes dark with want and lust almost drew him back for one last taste, but Harry managed to resist. Barely.

“We have to stop. For now, we have to stop,” he whispered, adding the last part when Malfoy's expression went icy, clearly feeling rejected. “It's not the right time to... to-”

Harry trailed off with a moan when Malfoy sat up, nipping and sucking at a sensitive spot on his neck, just below his jaw. He clutched at Malfoy's shoulders, gripping tightly as the action sent heat pooling down to his groin.

He almost fell forward in a heap when Malfoy abruptly pulled away, sliding out from under Harry to sit on the edge of the bed. “You're right, we should stop,” Malfoy agreed as he retrieved his shirt from the floor, casting an evil little smirk over his shoulder.

Harry scowled and rolled his eyes, rubbing his neck as he tried to calm down his over-excited libido. “Bloody Slytherin,” he muttered.

After relocating downstairs to the kitchen, Potter made them a quick lunch. The tea was sub-par and the cheese sandwich was rather plain and common for Draco's tastes, but he forced himself to consume them under Potter's watchful gaze, needing the fuel for what they were about to do.

His jaw cracked as he suppressed a yawn, feeling exhausted. The constant faint buzzing in his ears was driving him mad, but Potter had assured him that would fade over time as Draco became more accustomed to blocking out the many voices.

“Are you sure you don't want to have a quick nap first?” Potter asked as he sat down at the table next to Draco, clearly not fooled by his carefully concealed yawn.

Draco shook his head. “No, I want to get this over and done with.”

Potter took a breath, probably to convince Draco otherwise, but seemed to change his mind and said nothing. Draco smirked and offered his hands palm up to Potter, an eyebrow raised in silent challenge. Seeing it, Potter pulled a face before covering his hands with his own, squeezing them gently in warning, or perhaps reassurance.

Exhaling deeply, Draco closed his eyes, focusing on the shields he had carefully erected in his mind to block out the voices and shadows. He swallowed anxiously, before letting them fall. All at once the faint buzzing burst into audible sound of voices overlapping each other as they scrambled for his attention.

A cold wind whipped at his skin making his eyes fly open from the shock of it, even though he'd braced himself for the sensation. He took in the now familiar broken scenery of purgatory, a grim amusement passing through him when he noticed Potter's kitchen chairs had been transported over with them, though now they looked as aged and decadent as the fallen city surrounding them.

The previous times in purgatory, all Draco could see were the shadows, some of which became tangible and morphed into minor demons. This time though, Draco could see people milling all around them, looking almost as human as Potter and himself but for an odd blurred quality. It was almost like they were painted onto the landscape, like the portraits at the Manor.

They gathered around Draco as he stood, tugging at his clothes and hair in a child-like manner, all talking to him once. Oddly enough, being able to see them like this rather than as mere shadows and disembodied voices left him wondering why he'd found them frightening in the first place.

“Ours.”

“Take us.”

“Ours.”

He grimaced. They might not be frightening any more, but they were quickly becoming annoying.

“Ours.”

“Take us.”

“Ours.”

“Malfoy.”

Draco blinked. That was a new one, he thought before he realised it was Potter trying to get his attention. The Unspeakable was frowning at him in concern, thumbs stroking over his knuckles. Draco gave him a small smile, yelping when one of the dead gave his hair a particularly vicious tug.

“Ouch! Okay, no one messes with the hair!” he snapped, swatting at the dead woman he thought responsible. She flinched back for a moment before reaching for him again, though this time her touches were notably more gentle.

“I don't see any minor demons about,” Potter said, giving the area a quick sweeping once over, his wand in his free hand.

The other twisted in Draco's hand, linking their fingers together in a firmer grip. Draco couldn't help his smile at that, though he knew it was a necessity to keep Potter in purgatory with him and in no way a romantic gesture. They already agreed that though Draco might be able to permanently transport himself to purgatory, Potter would probably end up falling back into the realm of the living the moment they broke contact.

“Me neither,” Draco replied, shaking his hand free when one of the dead tried to link their hands together in an imitation of him and Potter. “Just a bunch of dead people. Go away!”

Potter glanced at him, unable to see them. “Are they hurting you?”

“No, they're just being irritating,” Draco answered, waving his hand at them in a shooing gesture.

“Is Narcissa with them?” Potter asked.

Draco scanned the blurred faces but saw nothing of the familiar elegant features his mother possessed. He closed his eyes, listening carefully, but couldn't recognise his mother's voice amongst the many blabbering on. He huffed, shaking his head. “No, and I can't hear her either.”

“Perfect,” Potter mumbled. He turned sharply, eyes narrowed as he searched for something in the distance.

“What is it?”

Potter shook his head. “I thought I heard something. We should get moving, it's never safe to stay in one place here.”

“Hold on a second,” Draco said, tugging on Potter's hand when he started to walk away. “I've got an idea.”

Turning to the dead people surrounding him, he put on his most charming smile. “I don't suppose any of you know where I can find my mother, Narcissa Malfoy, by any chance?” he asked.

“Ours.”

“Take us.”

“Ours.”

“Yes, I got that part,” Draco snapped, trying for patience. “But I really need to find my mother. Narcissa Malfoy. Do you know where she is?”

The dead woman who pulled his hair earlier cocked her head to one side. “Narcissa?” she repeated in question, the name mangled into an echoing hiss through her blurred lips.

Draco nodded encouragingly. “That's right, Narcissa. Do you know where I can find her?”

“Narcissa,” she said again, tugging on Draco's hand before gliding away. She turned back when Draco didn't follow, waving at him as she called. “Narcissa, Narcissa!”

“This way, Potter,” Draco said, making sure their hands were still firmly linked before following the dead woman.

She led them a fair distance through the dead city, her kin gliding along behind Draco as he clambered over the rubble, struggling to keep up with her pace. Potter, curse him, seemed to be having little trouble, clearly accustomed to the awkward grounding of purgatory. And wasn't that a disturbing fact.

“How many times have you been here?” Draco asked, stumbling as his foot slid on a loose rock. Potter caught him before he fell over and helped right him on his feet. “You seem to be a little too much at home for comfort.”

Potter glanced at him and away. “I've lost count. The first time was an accident though,” he explained, helping Draco over an awkward bit of iron railing that blocked their path. “I fell through the veil during my training as an Unspeakable. My colleagues thought I was a goner. So did I, after my first couple of days here.”

“Luck was on my side though. I managed to stumble across a newly made major demon during that time,” he nodded at Draco. “Lucius as it so happens. He still played by the rules back then, since he was just a newbie learning the ropes. Since I was technically still alive, Lucius led me to the neutral zone where the man in charge allowed me passage back to the realm of the living, so long as I was able to pay the toll.”

“Toll?”

Potter shrugged. “A couple of galleons that I luckily had in my pockets. I never know what he does with it. Probably amassing a small fortune for Merlin knows what. Anyway, you should have seen the looks of shock on my colleagues faces when I came back, alive and well. Unfortunately for one of the more foolhardy of the lot, he believed that meant anyone could cross through to purgatory and come back the way I did.” Potter's face darkened. “I tried to warn him, the foolish man. He never did make it back.”

“'Only those who have died can pass through the veil unharmed', right?” Draco said, quoting Potter's words from before. He frowned, pausing when Potter nodded in agreement. “Then how come you were able to pass through okay?”

There was a moments silence. “Because I've already died once,” he replied, his voice soft.

Draco stared at him in surprise, but Potter didn't elaborate and the expression on his face clearly said to drop the subject, which he did, albeit reluctantly.

The dead woman came to a stop outside the remains of what appeared to have been a house, once upon a time. She hopped up and down eagerly like a small child, tugging at Draco's hand when they reached her.

“Narcissa!” she proclaimed, pointing through the narrow opening that may have once been an arched doorway.

Draco thanked her with a smile, turning to Potter. “She's in here.”

Potter was looking behind them again, his wand raised at chest-level. “Be careful,” he warned before following Draco in.

They entered a thin corridor, a cracked and crumbling set of stairs of to one side that Draco had absolutely no intention in climbing lest he intended to break his neck.

“Mother?” he called out, leading Potter through to the front room, empty save for a crumbled fireplace and mantle. An empty window frame was set in the far wall, the charred wooden brackets looking almost comical in the way they hung for no purpose.

“Draco?” came a faint reply.

Narcissa glided into the room, her features and figure more prominent than that of the other dead who were still lurking outside the building, though she still emitted that oddly smoky quality they all seemed to possess. Her eyes were wide when she saw Draco standing by the window, a hand covering her gaping mouth. Even in death, his mother still had the pure-blood manners that were ingrained into her during life.

“Oh, Draco!” she cried, quickly crossing the room and enveloping him in a ghostly embrace. Her touch was icy and chilling; it was like hugging an ice statue. But the gesture was so familiar that Draco found himself returning it without thought, tears threatening to spill when Narcissa drew back, cupping his face in both hands and gently kissing his forehead.

“Mother,” he croaked, only just realising how much he had truly missed her.

Potter squeezed his hand gently, before turning away to face the window, giving them the pretence of privacy that Draco was truly grateful for. Besides, he would only be able to hear Draco's half of the conversation since he was unable to see or hear Narcissa.

“What are you doing here?” Narcissa asked, stroking Draco's hair back like she always used to. Her movements abruptly stilled, her smile fading to nothing as she turned her suddenly sharp gaze on him. “How are you here? How can you see me?”

Draco blinked in surprise at her sudden change in attitude. “Potter helped break the spell you put on me to suppress my powers,” he explained, frowning when his mother closed her eyes as though searching for strength. “We had to ask you a few things.”

“No. Oh no, no, no, no, no. Draco, you foolish, foolish boy,” Narcissa scolded, sounding frightened. “You have to leave. Right now. Take Potter and go.”

“What? Why?” he grabbed hold of her cold hands. “Mother, what's wrong?”

“Don't you see? This was all a trap. You have to get out now, while you can!” Narcissa hissed as Potter turned to him frowning.

“Trap? What trap? Mother, I don't understand,” Draco said, confused.

“Because he's after you Draco, he wants to use you to open the path way to the realm of the living!” Narcissa rushed out, clutching at Draco's hands and glancing out the window in fear. “Listen to me, Draco. There is a way for the dead in purgatory to return to the realm of the living.”

“What? How?”

“By sacrificing someone with the ability to walk through both realms unheeded. Someone like you, and like I was.”

Draco stared at Narcissa, unable to believe what she was saying. “Are you saying you used to hear and see the same things I could?”

Narcissa nodded. “Why do you think I put the spell on you? It was too much of a burden on someone so young. I had planned to take it off when you were older and more prepared, but I was killed before I had the chance.”

“Father killed you, didn't he?”

“Yes, but do not blame him, Draco. He was just acting on his instinct as a demon,” Narcissa pressed, her gaze flicking out the window and back to him again. “It was my fault. In my grief, I was tricked into summoning the demon. He hoped to open the pathway through my death. But my powers weren't strong enough, I only managed to create a tear.”

“Who did? Who was it, mother?”

Narcissa shook her head. “Let me finish. Only a few of the dead are able to pass through the tear, and when they come through they can only inhabit corpses that are reasonably fresh in death.”

“The Inferi,” Draco muttered, glancing at Potter who was watching him with sharply. “That's why they suddenly started appearing.”

“I was afraid he'd try to capture you, so I sent you to Potter,” Narcissa explained, nodding at the Unspeakable. “He's well known for crossing over into this realm, as well as being a successful hero and Inferi hunter. If anyone could protect you, it was Potter.”

Narcissa glared at Potter, pursing her lips. “I never thought he'd be reckless enough as to awaken your powers though,” she muttered, shaking her head. “But never mind that, you have to leave now, Draco. I don't want you to die. Not yet.”

“Wait, mother. Who's behind this? Is it father?”

“No, your father is just a pawn, like before,” Narcissa replied, eyes closing in misery. “No, it's him that's behind it. He who must not be named. The Dark Lord.”

“Voldemort?!” Draco yelped out. Potter turned to him in bewilderment.

“Don't speak his name!” Narcissa cried out in warning, too late.

A loud boom reverberated through the air, shaking the crumbling building through to it's foundations. Draco tumbled to the floor, dragging Potter down with him as another boom echoed through the air. A low ceiling beam cracked and fell, almost crushing them if it weren't for Potter's quick movements, rolling them over and out of harms way.

“You all right?” Potter asked as Draco coughed, choking on the cloud of dust that swept up in the air.

Draco nodded, letting Potter tug him to his feet and drag him outside. He glanced over his shoulder in search of Narcissa, but his mother had disappeared.

“Well, well, Potter.” drawled a familiar voice as they fled the collapsing building. Draco looked up, seeing his father standing before them regally, a horde of minor demons hissing and chittering as they paced behind him. “I must thank you for delivering my son to us.”

“Lay a finger on him, and I'll destroy you, balance of the realms be damned,” Potter growled, aiming his wand at Lucius.

Lucius rose a brow in amusement. “How touching that you're willing to go to such lengths. But I'm afraid Draco is necessary for the Dark Lord to make his rise to glory.”

He rose a hand, a red smeared ball of magic floating above his palm, quickly growing until it was roughly the size of a quaffle. Potter shoved Draco out of the way as Lucius threw the ball of magic, sending them tumbling to the ground as it flew past them, exploding as it hit the side of a far building, completely destroying the wall.

Lucius grinned, glancing behind him at the minor demons and jerking his head. “Get them. Kill Potter, leave my son unharmed,” he ordered.

The demons charged for them, fangs flashing as they snarled and flexed their claws. Potter hauled Draco to his feet. “Run!” he yelled, dragging Draco behind him.

Draco's breath came fast, heart pounding as he tried to keep up with Potter's quick speed. The man was clearly used to running for his life, either from his years as an Unspeakable or from his time fighting against Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

“Ferio!” Potter cast over his shoulder, hitting a minor demon that had managed to come unnervingly close. He cast a series of these spells, each one hitting the target even though Potter wasn't even looking where he was aiming.

Draco's lungs were beginning to burn from the exertion, his body wasn't used to being pushed so much. His legs were heavy, feeling like blocks of lead. Draco knew he was slowing down, tears of frustration and fear blurring his vision as his body refused to respond to his will, to move faster.

Claws scraped his leg and Draco crashed to the floor with a yelp, his hand slipping from Potter's grip. Potter turned, eyes wide. Draco stretched out as Potter reached for him, his body blurring in a whirl of colours. He vanished in a gust of warm air just before his fingers could brush Draco's.

“Draco,” hissed a cold voice that sent Draco's stomach plummeting through his feet. It was a voice that still haunted his nightmares, along with the memories of torture, screaming and blood.

His body quivered in fear as the minor demon that had been pinning him down scuttled away, allowing him freedom to move. His eyes widened, his jaw working but no sound came out. The pale skin, lipless mouth and crimson eyes were all as he remembered and feared.

“Draco,” Voldemort hissed, as solid and real as though he were still living. He reached out a spider-like hand, cupping Draco's chin. “You're mine.”
- 1
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Whispers of a Rising Darkness