Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

For All To See	By : Fenryn Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 4086 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-For All To See
- 2-Not Something You See Everyday
- 1
- 2
                The great hall was a bustle of activity, as per usual on the first day of term.   There seemed to have been an odd increase in student population, even with the return of Voldemort.   Harry didn’t want to dwell, but it raised his spirits a bit to see.
                Ron and Hermione had already taken their usual place at the table, but left little room for Harry to maneuver in. He approached his two best friends, both chattering away amiably, and tried to squeeze in between them. “Budge up, yeah?”
                A small amount of adjustment later, three friends sat in quiet amusement as Dumbledore gave the same speech he did every year. This time, however, the man’s unusually black hand was a cause for a bit of concern.
                “Blimey, what’s goin’ on with the Headmaster’s hand?” asked Ron.
                Hermione shook her head, unsure. “It appears to be curse oriented. I’ll check in the library later.”
                “Or I could just ask him when I meet with him next,” muttered Harry, more worried about the new face sitting in the Defense Against the Dark Arts seat.
                Lucius Malfoy was not a sight he had expected to see sitting at the staff table, least of all in that position. Seemed a bit of a cock up to Harry, but he’d made the mistake of not trusting Dumbledore last year. He wasn’t going to make it again.
                “Anyone curious as to Mr. Malfoy’s appearance?” asked Harry, his eyes never leaving the rather harried looking gentleman.
                Ron nearly choked upon seeing him, face burning a deep crimson. “P-professor Malfoy? First a cursed Dumbledore, and now this?!” It was a harsh whisper, but it still managed to draw the attention of most of the Gryffindors, and they began to fume at the presence of the elder Malfoy as well.
                Hermione, to her credit, rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Ronald.”
                A few muted chuckles floated about, and Harry himself had a bit of a smile playing against his lips. Glancing over at the younger Malfoy, he saw the same strained expression that had graced the blonde’s father.   Understandable, if the vision Voldemort had sent Harry was accurate.
                “We can’t be so quick to write them off, mate,” said Harry, giving his redheaded friend a solemn look. “With the return of Voldemort, who knows what sort of trauma the Malfoy’s have had to endure.” No one flinched at the mention of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, which, Harry supposed, was a good sign.
                Ron, however, did not look convinced. “Oh, please, Harry,” Ron laughed a bit derisively, sounding almost like a Slytherin. It grated on Harry’s ears, and he sighed. “ The Malfoy’s are probably chuffed as bits seeing their Dark Lord comin’ back.”
                Pain raced through Harry’s heart. He wished he could tell his friends what he had seen, but something as deeply personal as that was not his tale to tell.   The young Malfoy had lost his innocence that night – his freedom. He was forever locked in the cage of a murderer now, never being able to go back and be blood-free ever again.
                Harry knew what it was like to be marked by Voldemort, against his will no less. He had seen the pain and anguish in Draco’s eyes as he cast the killing curses. He knew, deep down, that Draco was as broken as he was.
                The Boy-Who-Lived had passed through his crucible a better man, however. Draco – yes, Draco – had yet to pass through his. He could be swallowed whole by the depression and fall forever… or, he could push through, breaking down the walls of anguish and rising to his feet once more.   It wouldn’t be easy, but Draco could do it.
                Harry would help him. He was the only one who could.
-----
                An ancient sepulcher, deep within the dirt… mold and mildew eating at the stone… bone and ash… musty air, full of death and rot…
                Lord Voldemort searched this place. He combed it alone, unwilling to let the ambitious eyes of his servants gaze upon the entombed relics of Wizards long dead. Tomes, bits, baubles, and all manner of artifacts, each a fragment of a time now gone.
                So many interesting things, but not the thing he needed most!
                “Confringo!” he shouted, blasting a dusty coffin into smithereens.
                It was supposed to be here. The Fruit was supposed to be in this crypt!
                Voldemort blasted another coffin, screaming in rage at the top of his lungs.
-----
                Harry woke slowly from his vision, content in the knowledge that Voldemort was running into obstacles.   The green-eyed-boy sat up in his bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Whatever ol’ snake head was looking for, this, “Fruit,” wasn’t falling into his hands anytime soon.
                Harry would have to remember to ask Hermione about it later.
                As it stood, he needed to get ready for breakfast.
                “Ready for DADA with Father Ferret?” asked Ron, grinning sleepily at his clever nickname.
                Harry rolled his eyes and padded across the dorm to the loo. “Not in the mood, Ron…” he mumbled, closing the door behind him.
                The redhead just shrugged and continued to dress, unable to decide between bacon or sausages. It was a difficult decision, true, but he was a Weasley – and Weasley’s know their meat.
                Several minutes later found the golden trio once again seated in the Great Hall. Harry cast a furtive glance at Draco. The blonde boy was eating his own breakfast quietly, apparently avoiding conversation. Sad grey eyes stared down at soggy toast and lumpy porridge. Harry’s heart wrenched, which, in all honesty, was an odd sensation. Never had he ever felt the faintest shred of emotion for Malfoy, save for anger and pity.   Now, heartache was quite new, and quite unwanted.
                Harry tore his gaze away, afraid to take in anymore of the downtrodden boy, and focused his attention on his friends.
                “I’m tellin’ you, Neville, you’re making a big mistake!” Ron exclaimed, wagging a finger at the other boy.   “You’re daft if you think lettin’ a snake into your heart isn’t gonna go all pear shaped!”
                Harry looked back and forth between the two teenagers. “Sorry, what’re you on about?”
                It didn’t seem that the storming redhead had heard him, so Harry was thankful when Hermione piped up. “Ronald is still obsessed with this whole, Neville dating Blaise thing,” she said, glaring at her angry friend.
                “Mate,” said Harry softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re making an arse of yourself – again. Leave it.”
                Ron, still pretty worked up, shrugged Harry’s hand off.
                “Why am I the only one who seeing things clearly?!” he shouted, glaring daggers at the assorted Gryffindors.
                Seamus guffawed, putting an arm around Neville’s shoulders. “Honestly, mate, no one cares if Neville fancies a bleedin’ Slytherin. Quit bein’ such a tosser about it.”
                After a moment of silent realization, Ron came to the conclusion that he would get no support from his housemates. With an exaggerated huff, he gobbled down the last of his meal – all bacon and sausage, mind you – and left the Hall.
                Harry looked over at Ginny, who was standing there watching the exchange. “Your brother is off his trolley, y’know that, don’t you?”
                Tears filled Ginny’s eyes, and she immediately stood to follow her brother.
                What was that about?   Harry looked at Hermione for clarification, but for once the bushy-haired girl was just as confused as he was. She shrugged, and began talking about possible curses she found to explain Dumbledore’s peculiar hand discoloration.
-----
                Draco had cast an eavesdropping spell early on in the meal, having clearly heard all of the Weaselbee’s whingeing. Ron was a right sod, to be sure, and it was a testament to the Gryffindorks loyalty that they sat around and listened for as long as they did. Draco himself had half a mind to finite his own spell, but it was good intel either way, so might as well deal with it.
                Here comes Saint Potter to the rescue, thought Draco, sure to save Weasel’s day.
                Until he didn’t.
                Draco was honestly surprised. He had expected Potter to be the most vehement anti-Slytherin of the group, but here he was defending Longbottom’s choices.   Not that Draco understood what Blaise was thinking fraternizing with the bloody enemy, but there you were. Besides, it wasn’t in a Slytherin’s nature to dictate housemate’s personal decisions. Blaise had his reasons, simple as that.
                After the Weaselette got up and left in tears, Draco was truly intrigued.   Rumor had it on good authority that the she-weasel and Potter were having a bit of how’s your father on a daily basis.   If that was true, then something must be amiss in paradise.
                Unfortunately, as pleasant a distraction as the daily life of the red and golds was, none of it affected Draco’s mission in any way. He went to cancel the listening spell when something Potter said caught his attention.
-----
                “I wonder what’s going through his head right now…” muttered Harry, staring off towards the Slytherin table.
                Hermione laughed into her pumpkin juice and shook her head, wiping her face with a napkin. “With Ron, who knows…” she said, sounding amused but also a bit exhausted.
                That wasn’t exactly what he was going for.   “I meant with Malfoy…”
                Hermione paused, looking surprised. “Um…” she said, for once at a loss for words. “I’m… not sure Harry. Why does that matter exactly?”
                Green eyes searched the blonde across the room, curious and unsure. He couldn’t explain about Draco’s horrible summer. He wished he could tell her what he knew. So instead, he just shrugged. “He just looks so… empty, now. He used to have a shine to him, a glow. Sure it was fueled by arrogance and blatant narcissism, but at least there was an energy there. He had a passion for himself and for life…”
                Now there was nothing, Harry added silently… nothing but misery and rage. The perfect recipe for a Death Eater… or a Hero.
                Hermione was once again taken aback. “Harry, I can’t say I ever gave Malfoy that much thought…”
                That made sense. There really wasn’t much thought to give. The blonde had always made a mission of making their lives miserable, so the less of a fuck they gave, the less it bothered them.   It couldn’t be that way anymore, however.   Draco’s passion had been sucked out of him.
                “Draco…” murmured Harry out loud, eliciting a sharp breath from everyone listening. Never had he called Malfoy by his given name. “Where has your light gone…?”
                Cogs and gears began to clink together as the wheels began spinning in Hermione’s mind. Harry had a few secrets he was keeping, from his friends, and from himself.   She’ll figure them out eventually, she knew. Either that or he’d tell her when the time was right. She just knew, whatever Harry’s secrets, they wouldn’t end well where Ron was concerned.
                But for now, thought Hermione, that’s neither here nor there.
-----

                As it hadn’t been since third year, the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was bright and open, all the shutters thrown wide and drapes torn down.
                “Fear,” said Professor Malfoy, his blue eyes darting about the room, taking everything in. “Fear is the secret to being a Dark Wizard.”
                The Gryffindors looked a bit squeamish, save for Harry, Neville and Hermione of course. Those three were giving the new teacher their undivided attention. The Slytherin’s, too, were equally held under professor Malfoy’s steely gaze. Except Draco, who was gazing over at Potter in wonder.
                “Fear of persecution. Fear of pain. Fear of death.” Lucius walked around the room slowly, hands clasped behind his back. He was incredibly intense, more so than Harry had ever seen him. More so than Harry had even seen his son.
                “These fears lead Dark Wizards to gather as much power as they can, hoping it will protect them. We,” he stressed the word, letting everyone know he considered himself to be dark, “are cowards.”
                This gathered Draco’s attention. He had never heard his father denigrate himself so. It was a blow to the Malfoy pride to call oneself a coward.
                Apparently, Potter was equally surprised. The black haired boy raised a hand quickly, interrupting the Professor’s speech.
                Lucius, to his credit, smiled softly, and pointed to Harry. “Yes, Mister Potter, have something to say do we?”
                “Yes, I do,” said Harry, standing up. “Professor Malfoy, I’d like to point something out. Cowardice is not something that is set, it is not something irredeemable.” Everyone in the classroom was eyeing this conversation, clearly interested to see how the intimidating head of the Malfoy family would react to be told off by Harry Potter. “Cowardice can be judged only in the moment. By coming up here, before us, and giving a speech on your own fear… well, sir, forgive me for saying so, but that takes bravery.”
                With that, Harry sat down rather awkwardly. The classroom was deadly silent, and all the students focused their attention on the Professor’s oncoming reaction.
                A sad smile and a solemn nod came from the tall blonde man. “I mean it when I say, Mister Potter,” said Lucius, his eyes sad. “That that was one of the truest things I have ever heard from the mouth of a teenager.”
                Harry blushed, uncomfortable with the attention. Still, he felt it had needed to be said. It wasn’t right for someone to sell themselves short, especially someone who has made so many wrong decisions in life. It wasn’t right for a lifetime of poor choices to ruin any hope of a future you might have. At least, that’s how Harry felt. Sirius would’ve agreed, he hoped.
                After clearing his throat, Lucius smiled more brightly. “As they say, the clock is running. Yesterday is history, and all that.” He nodded, gathering himself. “Alright then, class. Shall we begin?”
-----
                Draco continued to stare at Potter all throughout the class period.   The fact that the stupid Gryffindor had so much insight into Draco’s personal feelings, and those of his father, was startling to say the least. When had the boy started paying so much attention? Draco almost felt bad about tormenting Potter all these years.
                Almost.
                Still, as the final notes were written on the board, and everyone was dismissed to their next class, Draco couldn’t help but wonder what else Harry had picked up over the years.   Did he know what Draco’s favorite food was?   Or how he liked to spend his free time?   Merlin, he hoped not. That was a little excessive, even for a Gryffindor.
                As the students began to pile out of the classroom, Lucius gestured for his son to stay behind.   Draco did as he was told, mostly because he had a few questions himself.
                “What the hell was that speech about?!” he almost yelled, only just after the last student had slipped out the door. “We’re dark wizards because we’re scared?!”
                Lucius put his son in his place with a perfectly timed glare, silencing anymore criticisms the boy might have been about to make.
                “You will talk to me with more respect, Draco. Especially now that I’m your Professor, as well as father…” growled the elder Malfoy, resisting the urge to sneer.   It was certainly a hard habit to break. “Now, tell me about what… Voldemort… has in store for you this year…?”
                Draco scoffed and looked away, crossing his arms over his chest. “How is that any business of yours, Father? It is my mission, and besides…” Draco eyed his father carefully. “…you have fallen out of favor with our Lord, as of late.”
                Lucius growled again, clenching a fist in the air. “I gave up my position in the Wizengamot to be here – to help YOU, ungrateful child!”
                Draco had grown over the summer, and was equal height to his father now. So, after so many years of being looked down on, he was finally able to get into his father’s face and give him a piece of his mind. “You think I need your help?!” he asked, thoroughly annoyed, and a modicum offended. “You, who could not keep a fifteen year old boy from destroying a prophecy?! You, who lost a house elf to a child’s schemes!   You, who sold your son to a monster!”
                The last accusation was shouted violently, spit flying across Lucius’ face. The man didn’t flinch, though.   He simply stood there and took it, waiting for the boy to calm down.
                “No, father,” muttered Draco, still angry as hell. “No, I don’t need your help. You’ve done enough already.”
                With that Draco turned and left the room, leaving his father alone with his guilt.
                “Fuck…”
----
                Harry Potter was the only one without a partner when Draco entered the classroom twenty minutes late. Snape, as per usual, let his godson go with a simple warning, and quickly went back to work.
                Harry gave a half-hearted wave to Draco as the blonde approached, currently engrossed in his brewing potion. “Hey, Malfoy, crush those fairy wings, will you?” He pointed to a rather large pile of translucent fairy parts on the table, and Draco cringed.
                “Merlin’s shaggy beard, Potter, did you commit genocide? There has to be a hundred pairs of wings here!”   Draco knew it wasn’t up to his usual scathing remarks, but honestly he didn’t have it in him.
                Harry nodded, still distracted. “Yuh-huh, whatever you say, mate. Hand me them, please.”
                Draco did as he was asked, slightly amused that Potter was so intensely focused on his potion that he called him, “mate.”
                Deciding to capitalize on the boy’s distraction, Draco made himself look busy by slicing up a few ingredients here, crushing some there. “What’s my favorite food, Potter?”
                “Huh?” Potter was still quite out of it. He grabbed some of the sliced ingredients and tossed them into the cauldron, stirring counter-clockwise. “Salt beef and cabbage…”
                Draco was, to put it mildly, extremely surprised. He thought it ridiculous to think that the green-eyed-boy would actually know the answer to his question. Draco had only ever had salt beef once at Hogwarts.
                “How the bloody hell do you know that, Potter,” he hissed, grabbing the boy by the arm.
                Realizing what he had said, Potter let go of his single minded concentration of the potion and sat back.   “Uh…” he said, rather unintelligibly. “That one time you ate it third year, you looked like it was Christmas come early. S’ppose I just figured.”
                The potion began to bubble violently, and Potter cursed, stirring it again.

                Draco sat back and laughed to himself in amazement. “Potter, you’re obsessed,” he finally said, smiling widely.
                The Golden Boy chuckled dryly. “What’s MY favorite food, Malfoy.”
                Without thinking, the blonde dropped a clump of potions ingredients into the cauldron and said, “Chicken Alfredo for Supper, and Treacle Tart for Dessert.” His grey eyes grew wide, and he sputtered.
                Potter started to laugh, grinning from ear to ear. After a moment, Draco joined in. The whole class stared at the pair in awe, unsure of how to react.   Ron and Pansey were fuming, Hermione was amused, and Neville and Blaise shared a knowing smile.
                Snape raised an eyebrow, his concern rising. There wasn’t anything hallucinogenic in the potions, he had made sure of that.
                “Well, that’s somethin’ you don’t see everyday,” said Seamus. The rest of the class just nodded dumbly, afraid to do or say anything that might upset the balance of the universe any more.
                This was surely a bad omen.
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A/N: Well, I just have no time to write anymore.   I’ve been replaying Kingdom Hearts and damn if that’s not taking up most of my time these days.
Anyway, I hope you guys are enjoying it. Hopefully I’ll be able to put out updates more quickly, but I can’t make any promises.
Cheers, mates.
TTFN!
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For All To See