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Dues Virtus	By : Draconislei Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 2542 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This wonderful world of the Harry Potter series was created by J.K. Rowling and I own nothing of her genius. I will, however, play with her creations while she's not looking. I make no money from this.

Chapter List
- 1-Dues Virtus
- 2-The Dark that Consumes
- 1
- 2
Note: This is NOT beta tested! My beta ran away! Does anyone want to help beta the story? I’d love to work with someone! I take criticism very well, and like to hear other people’s input. PM me if you’re interested!

I do want to let everyone know that there will be small twists and changes to all of the characters personality and the plot. I have all of my characters firmly planted in my head, but they are shifted a tad from the books. Obviously one is a Gay Draco. And I hate his personality change in the sixth book. My Dray would never be sensitive. Emotions are for Hufflepuffs. For Harry, in the sixth book Voldemort’s dark magic made him crazy angry for no reason, I’m just moving that up a year… Maybe adding in a little more darkness with a side of bi-polar tendencies.

*Vocabulary:

Aspectus Vultus- Spell; Individual. It manifest’s ones aura into visual light. A specific color in the aura denotes a specific type of one of the twelve types of magic. This spell generally is used for diagnostic purposes, but can act as pre-cursor to aura enhancing or aura deflating spells. All of which are strictly banned by most governmental agencies around the world.

Atrum Amotio- Potion. Removes and neutralizes dark magic from an open wound. The legality of the potion depends on the country one is in. There are moral ambiguities surrounding a few of the ingredients this potion requires.

Dues virtus- Meaning “God Power”. These are special abilities that not every witch or wizard can attain. It is believed by many that having such powers mean that you are blessed by the Gods. Parsletongue is an example of such a power.

Visictus- Hex; individual. Thrusts a powerful force against the opponent, violently throwing them backwards. The distance created by the force is proportionate to the magic the wizard put into the spell.

Venia Decem (Religion of the)- [Grace of the ten] The main religion of those from magical descent. There are Twelve Gods that rule over the Planets, each with special gifts to give to mankind. These gifts come in the form of Dues Virtus power, given only to those most worthy. Muggle Grecian mythology was said to be greatly influenced by this religion before The Great Separation of Culture.

~Chapter 2~

            A bespectacled boy was standing silently in the center of the room. A circle of children of varying ages were circling around him, hungry for him. Like wolves they stared at the vulnerable raven-haired boy. They stared, wide-eyed, waiting on bated breath for him to react, to do anything. The boy seemed to withdraw at the sudden attention. Years of fame and adoration had apparently not prepared him for this.

            Standing opposite the boy, equally enclosed with people, a slightly smaller brown-haired child with an Irish lilt had his finger pointed at him. For the first time in his life the title that had made him a house-hold name had become associated with horrible connotations. The whole of the children with whom the boy had come to trust had begun to turn on him. The Irish boy had just told the whole of the room that he was a liar and glory hog. He had just been told no believed the most frightening experience of his life had actually happened.

Emerald eyes slowly made their way around the room and the boy looked unsure of what to say. As if he didn’t know how he was supposed to respond to the attack. The children’s desire was palpable. No one there wanted the raven to say the right thing. They all wanted him to fail. They wanted him to fail and they wanted to devour him afterward. The frightened look on the boys face began to harden. Soon the fear was gone and fury had taken its place. The boy pushed awkwardly through the crowd and took the stairs up to his dormitory two at a time. It was horrid being The Boy Who Lived.

~Harry James Potter~

            I drew the curtains around my bed closed and laid there listening to everyone as they prepared for bed. There wasn’t the usual laughing and regaling of summer events this time. No one mentioned what had happened only a few minutes earlier, but no one pretended it didn’t happen. Ron had made a few choice words about how he wasn’t going to put up with Seamus’ crap this year, but he too avoided the topic on the forefront of everyone’s mind. I couldn’t decide if he did that because he knew it would bother me, or if he also didn’t know how to convince everyone of the truth.

            The sharp tug of anger that first propelled me out of the common room had long gone and now I laid listlessly. Over the summer I had been unaware of what was transpiring in the newspapers and government. I had assumed they were hard at work trying to put an end to Voldemort’s reign before it took too many lives. Never in my wildest imagination did I think that they wouldn’t believe me. What did they think happened, anyway? That I killed Cedric myself? The thought of Cedric Diggory brought thick emotions to my chest. I didn’t want to cry; I was so sick of crying. I took a deep breath and fought the emotions as hard as I could, but I could tell that over the long summer months my resolve was wearing thin. A tear found its way to my eye, and fell onto my chest.

            Just as I was about to let loose the barrage of emotions that fought against me…, I became instantly calm. Where seconds ago I prayed for calm, I knew that this was not a welcome change in feelings. This calm wasn’t a happy, accepting calm. It was a deep calm. A deep empty. I felt no sadness, but I felt no hope either. Every single emotion I had ever felt had completely left my body. I felt nothing. I stared at the curtains across from my head. And stared. For at least a couple of hours. The only movement I made was the slight rise and fall from my chest. If breathing weren’t automatic I don’t think I would have done it. There was no reason to get up, there was no reason to change into my bed clothes. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.

            The lights were turned off hours later by Professor McGonagall when she came around for last bed time call. I turned my head to the sound of her voice. As she lectured Dean on getting into his bedclothes on time I could feel the anger, The Fury, rising. Over the summer it had become common place. I began gritting my teeth and clenching my fists. I had to admit to myself that I far liked the anger over the emptiness. The anger gave me a purpose. It gave me strength.~ It gives me Power.~

            I sat there in the dark trying to quell the quiet rage that was building, but I knew it was no use. I had no control over my emotions these days, all I could do was try not let it control my actions. Sleep wasn’t going to come to me anytime soon. I decided walking might curb my desperate need to scream. I opened my trunk as quietly as possible and searched around for my cloak and map. I needed to get out of there.

            “Harry?” Neville stared at me, no doubt worried about how I felt. I don’t need his pity.

            “What?” I spat as quietly as my anger would let me. HIM? Pity ME?

            “Uh, nothing…” Neville scooted back onto his bed, no doubt feeling rebuked and not understanding why. My anger dissipated as quickly as it had come.

I shook my head, as if to shake off the feelings, and took a deep breath. Neville’s a good, kind friend. He doesn’t pity me, he just wants to make sure I’m ok. These mood swings have been getting out of hand. I won’t let them hurt the people I care about. The only people who have ever cared for me.

            I stood up with my things and quietly made my way over to Neville’s bed. “Nev?” I asked quietly. He turned his head to me, and tentatively responded. “Yeah?”

            I nervously ran my hand through my hair. I’m not good at discussing emotions. I sighed. “Sorry mate, I just was… startled that’s all.” I knew Neville cared, and I knew he would listen to my problems without judging me or thinking I was mental, but I wasn’t about to burden him with any of my silly little problems.

            “Are you alright?” Neville asked as he propped himself on one elbow. I smile. Damn good friend.

            “Yeah, just want to go for a walk, that’s all.”

            “Just don’t get caught, I think that would just make everyone angry.” I felt my smile slide for just a minute.

            “I never get caught,” I winked as I threw my invisibility cloak over my head.

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            I looked down at the Marauders map and scanned all of my usual haunts. I watched as Filch creep around the Hufflepuff common room entrance and some students from Ravenclaw having what appeared to be a clandestine meeting in an abandoned classroom. I stood there for a bit, unsure of where I felt like wandering until I saw Malfoy’s name walking in the back corridors of the fourth floor. I bet you he’s up to no good. “Mischief Managed.”

            I hurried down some stairs, ducked my way into some passageways and found myself en route to meet him at the Golden Rotunda. At least that’s what the twins called it. Probably because the ceiling looked like it was hand carved out of gold.

On the ceiling of the rotunda there were little statues of faeries and unicorns dancing around the outside perimeter. Ten people were carved in the center of the ceiling, fanning outwards from the center dressed in elegant robes. They all seemed regal and strong. Some were smiling, some were glaring, others just looked pensive. The focal point of the whole carving was the Woman. Underneath her had the words Venia Decem* in elegant writing. She stood among the center of the other nine, dressed in the most simple of dress robes looking down at the ground with outstretched hands. She had such a look of love and peace that Harry sometimes found himself staring up at her for hours.

            I drew closer and slowed my hurried pace. If I was going to follow him, I couldn’t let him hear my approach. I peeked around the corner of one of the entrances and saw Malfoy just standing there staring at the ceiling himself. His body was slack and he seemed so young, like a little boy looking up at the world. He took a deep breath, the kind of breath that requires your entire body to do, and exhaled. His face seemed to relax even a little more and he smiled. My breath hitched. Jesus, he’s beautiful. The second his smile reached his eyes his face transformed into the most gorgeous boy I had ever laid eyes on. I hoped he never stopped smiling.

            As it always happened when I felt happy, my emotions began to turn sour. Darker thoughts invaded my head, and I balled my fist up. The Fury was back.

Bloody bastard. He’s working for Voldemort. I just knew it. My inner ramblings fueled my anger. How dare he walk around this school, knowing full damn well that before the war was over, many people attending Hogwarts wouldn’t be alive. Like Cedric. Just gone. How dare he smile. I grabbed my wand and pointed it at Malfoy.

“Malfoy,” I snarled. Malfoy spun around with a glare. Bloody bastard. “Why are you sneaking around the castle this late?” I asked, knowing full well that he was doing something malicious. My blood began to boil even more at the thought.

            “What the hell are you doing in the halls this late at night?” Malfoy looked offended. OFFENDED! Damn ferret’s walking around doing evil things, and he feels offended! I cricked my neck sideways. The anger was starting to feel good, The Fury was settling in. ~It gives me Power.~

“I wanted to make sure you weren’t up to anything, Death Eater!” I spat, entertaining thoughts of showing him exactly who he was up against. I was the Boy Who Lived. I was powerful. He looked at me as if I was mental. How DARE he? I could feel my body get tenser.

“Potter, I’m fifteen years old. Even if I wanted to be a Death Eater, and don’t think I’m going to give you the satisfaction of recording me saying I do, I’m a little young don’t you think?” The statement was like a slap in the face. My anger abated momentarily and I mourned the fact that some people got to be young. The pang of sadness I felt was quickly covered up by a new rush of roaring anger.

“Voldemort didn’t think I was too young to try to kill me!” I shouted. “Don’t lie to me Malfoy. You’re a Death Eater, just like your father.” I twisted my wand in his direction. He was going to pay. They all were. How dare they. The anger was swelling and I embraced it with sick perverted joy. My magic was gathering all around me, controlled by the anger.

Then he just frowned. He frowned… and walked away.

“Whatever you say Potter, just leave me alone.” How. Dare. He.
            “Expelliarmus!” …“Potter,” …“Visictus*!” I grinned darkly as I heard him smack against the wall, falling unconscious. My breath was heavy from the rush of power I felt. This was the way to live. To have such power over another.

I walked slowly over to the blonde. He wasn’t moving, making him vulnerable, which in turn made me smirk. I raised my wand at the unmoving boy, ready to give some delectably dark curse a go.

            Then it faded. The tenseness. The anger. The Fury. Gone. And all it had left behind was a crumpled blonde against a wall. What the hell did I do?! I ran over to where the blonde was lying and grabbed his shoulders, hoisting him up.

            “Malfoy!” I shook his shoulders. “Malfoy!!” I let go of him and he slumped back against the wall. Did I kill him? I pushed two fingers on his neck, trying to feel a pulse. It took me a moment to realize that I had no idea what I was doing. Does that even work? I had only seen it on telly once or twice, I had no idea if it could tell if someone was alive or not. I was near the point of grabbing him and running to Madame Pomfrey’s office when I heard him groan. I held my breath and stared at him, keeping as still as I could be.

            “What in the bloody hell?” He mumbled. He grabbed his head and tried to sit up. It must have caused him some pain because he instantly slumped against the wall again.

            “Shite, Malfoy. I am so sorry! I didn’t… I didn’t mean to… I…” I trailed off, staring in shock at Malfoy. I can’t believe I did that. What the hell is wrong with me? Malfoy started massaging his temples. I hurt him. I could have killed him. And I was enjoying it. I felt my throat drop to the pit of my stomach. I was disgusting. I loved every moment of hurting him. Hurting someone shouldn’t bring you joy. Jesus, I’m fucked up.

I felt tears sting the edges of my eyes. How could I let this happen? In seconds every emotional event that I had been experiencing hit me full force. Cedric, being left with the Dursleys, being cut off from everyone during the summer, the harsh reality that no one was trying to stop the most evil madman alive, the fact that it was my blood that brought him back, that I was responsible for all the deaths to come, and the mood swings… dear god, The Fury. I took a shaky breath to control my emotions, never taking my eyes of Malfoy.

He looked up at me and I couldn’t stop the tears. They rolled down my face slowly at first, then quickly took up speed. Soon I couldn’t see clearly they were beading up and falling so fast. A sob racked my body and I clenched my knees. I looked down at my lap, still trying to fight them.

“Potter…?” Maloy’s voice sounded trepid and confused. Another sob wrecked itself from my body and my shoulders began to quiver. I was loosing it, and I didn’t care anymore. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. Waves and waves of emotions fought their way through my body and I wanted to let them. Let it all go, let the entirety of my pain out. Cry and scream until my body could do neither anymore. The only thing keeping my sanity about me was Malfoy. The one person in this school whom I should not let see me like this. But it was all too much, I had held it back too long, and I didn’t think I had the strength to reign it all back in.

“Stop.” Malfoy’s words were quick and pleading. “By the God’s Potter, just… stop!” I looked up at the boy and gave a small sob. “No… bloody hell Potter!” His eyes became larger and he tried to scoot away from me. Apparently he didn’t like it when people cried. I half laughed, half sobbed at this realization. I put my head in my hands.

“I’m sorry.” I whispered, to him, to everyone. Then I gave up. I let the sobs tear through my body as I circled my arms around my waist and put my head on my knees. I cried. For the first time in a long time I just let myself cry. I cried for Cedric; I cried for my parents; I cried for all those who were about to die.

The whole time I could hear Malfoy rambling on, about what, though, I couldn’t say. His voice was somehow… reassuring. Maybe it was because it reminded me I was still alive. Maybe it was because it meant that I wasn’t alone, that there were still people around. All I know is that I let loose a barrage of emotions that I had been fighting back my entire life, and it felt good.

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            I have no idea how long it had been since I had started crying. Minutes, hours. I had somehow wound up leaning against the wall. My head was sore and my eyes were puffy. I’m sure you could take one look at me and tell exactly what I had been doing. There was silence, finally, in the Rotunda. Malfoy had stopped talking at one point, and other than the occasional sniffle I was silent too. I looked up at the Woman, finding her expression oddly comforting.

            “She’s the Goddess of Protection.” I tiredly moved my head to look at Malfoy. He, too, was staring up at her. What an odd comment to make after all that. I had no response to his statement, so I turned my gaze back up to the ceiling.

            “Are you devout?” He said after a few minutes had passed. I looked at him. My confusion must have been obvious because he continued, “Of course not.” He half breathed, half sighed and became silent again. I didn’t shift my gaze though, opting to stare at him. I was extremely confused, but highly intrigued. After everything I had done just now, cursed him into unconsciousness, broke down in front of him, and all he talks about is a ceiling carving? It seemed out of character for him. Surely he would have taken the time to mock me, or curse me while I was crying for revenge. Then again, I wasn’t acting quite normal either. I snorted at the thought of the two of us.

            Malfoy swiveled his head angrily at me. “You have a problem with my religion, Potter?” He spat out. The outburst took me by surprised and I didn’t know what to say. Normally I would have responded argumentatively at him, but I realized I just didn’t have the energy. I mentally shrugged. Why not tell him the truth? I had just become more vulnerable in front of him then I had ever to anyone else. Truth couldn’t do much worse. I let my face go slack.

            “I don’t know anything about your religion. I was just thinking about me… crying in front of you and you making polite conversation. It’s just not normal.” The blonde furrowed his eyebrows and quickly went back to starring at the ceiling. After awhile I did too. I became restless, staring at what was apparently some wizarding God, and looked at Malfoy.

            “Why haven’t you made fun of me? Why did you just sit there?”

            “No.” He responded, abruptly.

            “No?”

            “Shut up Potter.”

            “I think it’s a valid question.” He turned to look at me with a resolute facial expression.

            He pointed at me, “You didn’t cry.” He pointed at himself, “I didn’t see anything.” He pointed at me again, “You were never here.” And pointed back to himself, “I was never talking to you.” He leaned back and looked at me expectantly.

            “But…”

            “No.” He stuck a finger directly into my face. “Unless you want me to mock you until the end of days in public, and trust me your public image couldn’t really handle that right now, I suggest you shut up, for good.” He crossed his wrists and swung them uncrossed. “About it all.” He pointed his finger in my face again. Dear God he does that one more time and I’m going to break it. “And don’t go telling Granger or Weasel. I have a reputation to keep up too.” He turned, looking back up to the ceiling, but this time a little more self-conscious than before.

            “I can’t control myself anymore. Not since Voldemort came back at the end of last semester.” Why I kept talking about it, to him of all people I didn’t know. He seemed, safer, than Ron or Hermione. I wouldn’t get any pity from him, like Hermione, and I wouldn’t get the awkward pat on the shoulder and a “Don’t worry Harry, It’s going to be ok”, like Ron. I would just get a hard dose of biting reality. I needed that. I was going mental and I needed someone to confirm that to my face.

            Malfoy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had a pained expression on his face. He looks kind of cute that way. Dammit, I needed to stop thinking those thoughts, stop… having those dreams. I felt myself blush and rapidly turned my gaze back to the ceiling. Damn his long fingers.

            “Did you, or did you not just under-“

            “I going mental and I don’t know what to do.” There. I said it. It was out in the ethos, and I could never take the admittance back. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I breathed in heavily.

            “Ugh.” Malfoy softly bounced his head against the stone wall behind him.

            “Mental, you say?” He asked, begrudgingly.

            “Yep.”

            “How so, Potter?” He sounded so defeated, it was almost humorous.

            “I feel fine, then I feel nothing. Then I feel angry. Crazy evil angry.”

“Mood swings?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I guess.”

“How’s your aura balance? Have you checked that?”

“What?”

“Aura balance. The first signs of an aura imbalance are moods swings. Harsh, sporadic mood swings.” There was a long silence. It sounded logical and my aura may have been unbalanced, if I didn’t already know that I was mental. I was losing it, and I’m pretty damn sure it had nothing to do with my aura.

Keeping my voice light: “Nope. I’m just mental.” I heard him groan in exasperation. He stood up and walked directly in front of me with his wand out. I began to get anxious when he pointed it at me.

“Malfoy, what…” I tried to shimmy up the wall.

“Potter, I’m not going to curse you. I’m checking your aura, so sit down!” He harrumphed as I slowly sat back down. I looked at him warily, this was Malfoy after all. Though, we had been through… well… something. I didn’t delude my self thinking this was going to be a regular thing, but it would last the rest of the evening. I hope.

            “Aspectus Vultus*.” The sudden light surrounding me made me shield my eyes. I waited a few beats, yet I heard nothing.

            “Well?” I asked, still shielding myself.

            “How many dark spells have you been doing lately?”

            “What?” I opened my eyes to a dark greyish cloud. I could barely make out Malfoy behind it. “I haven’t done any! I would never do dark magic!”

            “It’s impossible to avoid dark magic. Its in many every day spells. Bloody hell, professor McGonagall taught us a lot. Don’t you ever read, Potter?”

            “Dark Magic is evil.”

Malfoy huffed. “No, overdosing on dark magic makes you amoral which makes you tend toward so-called ‘evil’ deeds. My father says you just have to make sure you’re keeping your aura balanced.” He stated haughtily. I rolled my eyes. Figures they’d find some way to rationalize casting dark magic. “Besides, right now it doesn’t matter. Your aura is heavily cloaked in dark magic. To be honest, if it was ANYONE else other than a self-righteous un-educated ass like you, I’d say you were lying about not doing dark magic.”

            “I would never-“ He cut me off with an outstretched palm like I was some sort of a child. Arse.

            “I’m saying I believe you, Potter.” He bent down and stared at my forehead. “And it seems to be emanating from your scar.”

            “It seems to be what?”

            “It’s coming from your scar, you bloody idiot.” I grit my teeth. Of course its coming from my damn scar. “The amount of dark magic would make anyone have mood swings, violent ones. Ones making you want to hurt people. Surprised you haven’t tried to kill anyone yet.” I made sure to fail to mention almost wanting to kill him. “This level of dark magic might almost scientifically make you a dark wizard. They measure dark wizards by measuring the amount of dark to the rest of the aura.” He poked a finger at my forehead. I was in too much shock to stop him.

            “If your aura goes too far off balance, you might not be able to go back. How’s your spell work been lately? Has it been hard to cast normal-type spells?” I didn’t answer him as I let my mind process the information.

            “I’m no expert, but I think it’s only your outer aura. Getting rid of things on your outside aura is much easier, but once it gets into your inner aura…” I smacked his hand a way. He looked startled, and I think I was a bit startled by my movement too.

            “You’re lying.” I stood up.

            “Look at your damn aura, Potter. I couldn’t possibly make that,” he motioned his hands at my aura, “up.” I pursed my lips and furrowed my brows trying to figure out what it would mean if he was right and what I would have to do. Malfoy ran his hands through his hair, annoyed.

            “Alright. Fine. Meet me here on Friday night, two hours after curfew. I’ll make you a damn potion. But you WILL pay for ALL of the ingredients, AND for my time. Not that I need the money of course, but a Malfoy doesn’t do anything for free.”

            “There’s a potion? To get rid of dark magic?”

            “Well, no. That’s impossible. There is however a way to extract dark magic from a wound. I… uh… researched it last summer.” He nodded his head as if his stutter didn’t give away that he was lying.

            “Look, your scar is a wound, right?” He started out slowly. “And it has dark magic in it, right?” He seemed to half be explaining to me, half reasoning it out himself. “So, if we use the potion to extract the dark, your aura will eventually dissipate the darkness that is there currently, and you’ll stop acting mental. Which, from the way you’ve been attacking me, would be in my best interest.” He smiled to himself, then fake-coughed to cover it up. Turning on his heel, he began to walk away. Apparently Malfoy’s didn’t need goodbyes.

            “And another thing, go to Madame Pomfrey and get the most powerful calming draught she has.” He looked over his shoulder worriedly. “You’re going to need it.”

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I sat at the base of the stairs in the rotunda waiting for Malfoy. It had been a week since I was last here with him, and the week had not been nice to me. I had gone to Hermione asking her about auras and types of magic. With a sinking stomach I heard her speak, almost verbatim, of what Malfoy had said. She had even suggested that they do a spells to visualize auras, ‘because it was so very fascinating to see what type of magic you are prone to’, when I had hastily told her that I had other things to do. Her explanation, a few hours in the library, and the fact that I couldn’t cast any simple spell for the life of me convinced me that Malfoy might be right.

That was the nice part of the week. On Tuesday I had snapped at Professor Snape which landed me a detention. Unfortunately, at the time The Fury had me in its grips and I told him where to stick his detention almost pulling my wand on him. He stupefied me before I even had the chance. Suffice it to say I’ll be in detention for the rest of the year, and any housemate that didn’t fall for the tabloids certainly didn’t like me right now.

Oh, but it gets better. The new defense against the dark arts teacher is the worst one yet, and on Wednesday she decided to accost me in the halls. She gave me a detention for no reason. I opened my mouth to tell her exactly how I felt, but Hermione shushed me with a spell. After I was hastily scooted away and she gave me my voice back I began yelling at how she didn’t know how to keep her nose out of my business. That of course set Ron off, and we proceeded to have the biggest fight we’d ever had before. I said things, horrible things, and now neither one are speaking to me.

It was then I resentfully decided Malfoy was right about needing a calming draught. I went to Madame Pomfrey to get one. She of course asked me why I needed them and if I had talked to the Headmaster about it. For the first time since school started, my mood swings were in my benefit and her questions brought up the swell of emotions. I began to tear up and she immediately bustled to get me the potions. The draught worked relatively well, it calmed my feelings down enough to the point where I could at least keep my mouth shut. In the end that’s all I needed, for now anyway.

I had, of course, thought about telling Ron and Hermione about what was going on. It would have been smart, especially since I was dealing with Malfoy, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at them and tell them I was becoming a Dark Wizard. I was turning evil. How do you say something like that to your two closest friends? If Malfoy’s potion didn’t work tonight I had convinced myself I would go talk to Dumbledore, though I wasn’t even sure I could look him in the eye either. Besides, they all have other things to worry about besides myself. They don’t need to be bothered by me.

Malfoy walked into the Rotunda through the opposite entrance and looked pointedly at me.

“Come here, Potter.” He wanted me to walk to him? I sat there for a moment, debating if I should give him the power to direct me around. “Potter.” I began moving towards him. I didn’t like it, but he was doing something for me, and if I wanted that potion I had to dance however he wanted me to. Figures he’d find a way to make it a power struggle.

As soon as I got close enough he thrust a piece of parchment in my hands. “What’s this?” I asked as I took it from him.

“Your bill, Potter.” I opened it up and found that, yes indeed, it was a bill. A long one, a very detailed one, and one with large galleon amounts.

I raised an eyebrow, “this really how much it was?” I looked at him dead in the eyes, daring him to lie to me.

“Potter, this potion is extremely complicated with expensive potion ingredients required. Of course, because I had to fetch all the ingredients myself you’re buying the ingredients at full market value, plus the time it took me to find them for you.” He looked at me, as if daring me to argue with him. Whatever. I looked at the total, I had grabbed enough during the summer at Gringotts. Barely. Guess I wasn’t buying anything at Hogsmeade this year.

“Fine. I’ll get you the money later.”

“When?”

I looked at him, exasperated. “Eventually!”

“I need a date, Potter. Quite honestly I’m surprised you even have the money. I was afraid I was going to have to figure out a way to take it in trade.” I was bloody glad I had the money.

“Fine, uh, tomorrow? Here? After curfew?”

“Fine.”

“Fine.” After a moment of staring him down, I realized I wasn’t sure of how one was supposed to proceed after that. Malfoy rolled his eyes.

“Sit down, Potter.”

“Where?” I asked argumentatively, gesturing around the room to show him that there were no chairs readily available. There was no reason to get mad at him; it just felt wrong not to fight with him.

“On the ground, obviously. Did you ever get that calming draught, like I told you to?”

“Yes, Malfoy.” I shot out while I was bending to sit down. I put my back facing the wall and sat up cross-legged.

“Not before you had your little tizzy with Snape.” He commented, with a smirk. “Smart, Potter. Snape loves it when you tell him to, how did you put it, ‘fuck off you slimy haired asshole’? Ah, priceless.”

“Just get it over with Malfoy.” I growled. He sent me one last self-satisfied look and pulled out a rather large jar.

“And you owe me a favor.” He said.

“What?”

“A favor. Which I can redeem at any time I see fit. If anyone finds out I’m doing this for you, I’ll hear it from my father.”

“What am I going to have to do?”

“Whatever I want. That’s how this works, Potter. Whatever I want, whenever I want it.”

“Fine.” I grumbled. Malfoy smirked. Damn, He looks good when he does that.

I really need to stop thinking things like that. It’s weird, and it’s becoming a habit. Dreams are impossible to control, I can’t be faulted for the hundreds of dreams about random people I know, even if they’re like… that. With his… hands.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The hallway was a muted yellow, brown and gold; off-colors that gave dreamer a sense of being in an other-worldly place. The halls were obviously Hogwarts, but the walls were fuzzy and pictures non-descript, so it was hard to pin-point an exact location in the school. Afternoon glowing light came from the corridor on the left, and Harry was drawn to it instinctively. It was where he was supposed to be.

As he rounded the corner he saw none other than Draco Malfoy standing confidently in the center of the hallway. Strangely, he wasn’t wearing his wizarding robes. Instead he was wearing muggle clothes and did they look good on him. Skin tight faded jeans hung low on his hips. He had a belt casually thrown across his waist, more probably for looks than for actual need. An all black T-shirt ran tight across his chest. Harry took his time looking at the boy. Even in such casual clothing Draco Malfoy still managed to look elegant and regal.

Harry’s eyes caught the other boys, and heat began traversing through his body. He became tight, his breath short, and a burning need rang through his body. Tonight, this boy was his to do with as he pleased, and he wasn’t going to hesitate to satiate his desire.

In an instant he was next to the boy and he grabbed him close. “Malfoy.” He breathed heavily. He wrethced his eyes away from the boy’s frame and bore his gaze heavily into Malfoy’s. He wanted him; he wanted him now. The blonde’s eyes widened slightly as if stunned by the heady desire. His lips pursed desperately and he tried to say something, but Harry’s gaze caught him and he only managed a heavy gasp.

Malfoy’s hands freed themselves of the gryffindor’s chest and he ran them through the other boy’s raven hair. He pulled his face close to Harry’s. For a second he paused, the tension rising in each other’s bodies, both hungry for the next step. Malfoy looked into his eyes, managed another gasp, and crashed his lips onto the others.

Harry was forced backwards by the Slytherins intensity. As he backed the both of them into the wall behind him he moaned, then began to push his desire into the kiss. He grappled for control and twisted the other boy so he was backed up against the wall. It took only moments before the other boy gave into Harry making Harry’s throbbing erection only ache even more. He needed this boy.

Harry broke off the passionate tangle of mouths and pressed his forehead onto Malfoy’s.

“Come on.” Harry wined, staring at the blonde. Malfoy grinned seductively and his long fingers grabbed Harry’s belt loops. Never taking his eyes off of Harry’s, he unzipped his pants, pushed his hand inside his boxers, and wrapped his hand around Harry’s cock. Harry groaned and pushed his pants and boxers down around his thighs while positioning his hips so the other boy would have better access.

            “You like it?” Malfoy asked breathily. Harry brought his mouth roughly against the Slytherins and kissed him deeply. He then brought his hips closer to Draco and stared at the other boys hands while he jacked him off. His long manicured fingers deftly moved up and down his shaft.

            “Fuck.” Harry moaned. “Faster.” Harry wrapped his hand around Draco’s and made him move faster. Heavy breathing came from the boys as they stared at Malfoy’s work on Harry’s cock. Semen began to leak from Harry, encouraging Malfoy to run his hands up and down faster. “God... Shite.” Harry began thrusting his hips into Malfoy’s hands.

            Malfoy suddenly kneeled down in front of Harry and wrapped his lips along the tip of the shaft. This sent Harry over the edge and he groaned as he wrapped his hands in Malfoy’s hair pulling him farther on his dick as he came.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Those thoughts made my face heat up, then seconds later I felt the familiar pressure in my trousers. Shite. I tried to adjust myself nonchalantly.

“This potion is called Atrum Amotio*.” He continued on, oblivious to my internal monologue about dreams and his gorgeous hands, “It’ll nullify the dark inside and around the scar.” He knelt in front of me and opened the jar. It looked like a white salve. He put some on his hands and moved them to my forehead. “Move your hair Potter.” I did so quickly, too quickly, and I realized I wanted him to touch me. I shifted again, praying the tightness in my pants would go away soon. It always managed to cloud my head. The salve was cold when he applied it, then seconds later it was burning hot.

“You have a lot of Dark Magic. It’s already nullified as much as it can.” He peeled off what once was the white salve. It was all in one piece now, dark grey. It looked like a mold of my scar. He dropped it on the ground, and put his fingers back in the jar, re-applying the potion.

He kept applying it to my forehead, silently. I didn’t dare break the silence, this weird truce we had going made me uneasy, but the potion made me feel lighter somehow. Whatever it was that he made me seemed to take pressure off my body that I hadn’t even realized was there. The salve was almost gone by the time he stopped. Sitting back on his heels, he sighed.

“I think its done all it can for right now. I’d keep an eye on it though, if its… active… you might need to do this again.” I glared at him.

“So you think it’s ‘active’, huh? What do you think that means? You know he’s back, don’t you?”

“No, Potter.” Malfoy looked sternly at me. “I just helped you out, do NOT bring any of that up right now.”

“Why?” This boy confused me too much. Since when would he pass up a fight with me?

“Because. That’s why. Now shut your damn Gryffindor mouth and give proper thanks where it’s due.”

“How can I thank you if my mouth is shut?” I asked in the most innocent tone I was capable of.

“I hate you Potter.” I grinned at him. I liked it better when he was predictable. Malfoy eyes widened a bit and his breathing got shallow.

“What?” I asked, confused. He looked… aroused? No, that’s me, remember? I could have kicked myself. Damn hard-on.

“Nothing.” He cleared his throat, stood up quickly and turned around.

“Whatever.” I stretched my arms and leaned back against the wall. Or at least I tried to lean back against the wall. Instead I seemed to fall through the wall. “What the…?”

“Potter?” I hear Malfoy’s voice, but it seemed farther away than it really was, and a bit muffled. I stood up and tried to put my hands on the wall. This time the hit solid concrete. “Half your body disappeared in the wall, is it some sort of passage way?” I hadn’t realized that Malfoy was standing right next to me. I jumped a bit.

“Oh sorry, did I scare you Potter?” I highly doubted that he was being sincere. I shot my eyes sideways and frowned.

“I don’t know, I’m checking it out.” I dragged my hands down the wall, and halfway down, my hands suddenly went through the wall.

“Looks like it’s crawling room only.” Malfoy said as he got down on all fours and pushed past me. Arse. I followed suit and found myself in a very small circular room. It seemed to have no ceiling, but it was enclosed enough around to only fit two comfortably. There were runes going from the ground all the way up to past where my eyes could see. They were glowing a soft red. “By the Gods.” Malfoy said softly.

“That’s a lot of runes.” I agreed, tracing a rune with my finger.

“That’s a lot of runes? That’s all you have to say?” Malfoy looked incredulous.

“There are a lot of runes. What else am I supposed to say?”

“The creation complexity of the Runescape grows exponentially with each rune that’s added. What you’re seeing here is literally impossible to create unless you’re a genius. Whoever laid there hands on these walls to create these runes had to be smarter than the God of the Shadow Side himself. ‘That’s a lot of runes’, bloody idiot.”

“The God of the Shadow Side?” I asked with a hint of incredulous humor.

“Now you ARE making fun of my religion.” He huffed angrily.

“You’re religion has a God of ‘Shadows’?” I snorted. Malfoy pushed me. So, naturally, I pushed back. He swung his fist at my face with his usual less-than-stellar skill and I easily dodged it. “Look, whatever Malfoy. Believe what you want. I just never heard of and ‘God of Shadows’ before.” I put my hands up in a sign of peace.

“Its God of the Shadow Side. The brother of the Goddess of Protection. He is where we draw our logic from, and she our emotion. You can’t have one without the other. Never mind, Potter, you’re probably too stupid to understand. I’m going back down to the dungeons.” He began to get on all fours, but the lightening of the runes made him pause.

The runes began to glow white. Seconds later the ground beneath us dropped slowly. We were going downwards, like we were on an elevator.

“What the hell did you do, Potter?” I turned and growled at him.

“What? I didn’t do anything, Malfoy, and you know it.”

“Then why are we moving down?!”

“I don’t know.” Suddenly the movement stopped, and the runes turned back to a muted red. It was eerily quiet, and a bad smell was emanating from somewhere. I pulled out my wand. “Lumos.” Getting down on all fours I poked my head and wand out of the ‘elevator’. Swinging it around didn’t reveal much besides three passageways. One leading straight in front of me, on leading to the left and one to the right. Down the corridor in front of me a pace or two away there was a bluish heap, though I couldn’t make out what it was.

I pulled myself back inside. “Looks like a bunch of underground corridors.” I said with a smile.

“You’re happy about this?” He said incredulously.

“Of course! More castle to explore!” With that I got back down on all fours and crawled out. I heard Malfoy sputtering and yelling behind me, though he too followed suit and crawled out too. I heard him mutter a lighting charm and my field of vision expanded a few feet.

“Now what, Potter?”

“You don’t have to follow me you know, you can just go back up the elevator.”

“How, Potter? How does that elevator work again? Hmmm?” I sighed.

“Fine. Follow me then.” As I was about to step toward the bluish heap to explore, I heard a distant, but loud feral squeal. The squeal was followed by what seemed to be a hoard of squeals coming from every direction of corridors.

Whatever made those noises was definitely not human. And I could tell they were getting closer. The hair began to prickle on the back of my neck, and I knew, instinctively, whatever was coming towards us was feral and lethal.

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Authors notes:

And that, children, is why you don’t do dark magic…

I’ve never done smut! How was it? Cheesy? Hot? AH! It was fun!

First I want to thank everyone who reviewed, favorited or followed this story. It makes me incredibly happy that you guys like my work, or think I’m a good enough writer to take the time to critique. It means a lot, especially since I put down my creative writing for over six years. It encourages me to never let go of the joy of writing and creating.
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