Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Awakening To the Dream	By : ChimaeraChan Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 45316 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-CH1
- 2-CH2
- 3-CH3
- 4-CH4
- 5-CH5
- 6-CH6
- 7-CH7
- 8-Ch8
- 9-Ch9
- 10-Ch10
- 11-CH11
- 12-CH12
- 13-CH13
- 14-CH14
- 15-CH15
- 16-CH16
- 17-CH17
- 18-CH18
- 19-Ch19
- 20-CH20
- 21-CH21
- 22-Ch22
- 23-CH23
- 24-CH24
- 25-CH25
- 26-CH26
- 27-CH27
- 28-CH28
- 29-CH29
- 30-CH30
- 31-CH31
- 32-CH32
- 33-CH33
- 34-CH34
- 35-CH35
- 36-CH36
- 37-CH37
- 38-CH38
- 39-CH39
- 40-CH40
- 41-Ch41
- 42-Ch42
- 43-Ch43
- 44-Ch44
- 45-Ch45
- 46-Ch46
- 47-Ch47
- 48-Ch48
- 49-Ch49
- 50-Ch50 *End Part 1*
- 51-Ch51
- 52-Ch52
- 53-Ch53
- 54-Ch54
- 55-Ch55
- 56-CH56
- 57-CH57
- 58-CH58
- 59-CH59
- 60-CH60
- 61-CH61
- 62-CH62
- 63-CH63
- 64-CH64
- 65-CH65
- 66-CH66
- 67-CH67 *New 6/6/2015*
- 68-CH68
- 69-CH69
- 22
- 23
- 24
WTF?!?!?!! Ch 16 to 23 just decided to disappear along with half my reviews and such. TT__TT Sorry if there are any probs with the reposts but I really don’t have time to fix them right now. Warnings for blood and suggestions of violence, yadda yadda.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

CH23

He didn’t know what day it was. He wasn’t even sure it was day. Something had changed, something drastic enough for the voices to wake him from unconsciousness.
The pain had faded, but Harry knew it wouldn’t be long until it returned again, as it had perpetually for what seemed like forever. “…Yehl.” He called, or tried to, but his voice was so hoarse from screaming that it came out as a croak. He pulled himself to his knees, realizing for the first time he was on the floor. Something was wrong with his arm. He eyed it in confusion; it was longer and stained purple. His other arm had a similar stain… and his hand, and his knee and his legs… A faint memory stirred in his mind, a figure looming by his bedside, hulking with beefy limbs, striking…
How long… how long had Vernon been back?
Ignoring the pain, he dragged himself to his feet, wavering for countless moments as the world spun. Yehl was gone. He couldn’t sense her presence anywhere. He licked his dry lips and resisted the urge to call for her anyways. His bedroom door had been left wide open but his window was still locked shut. There was something else niggling in the back of his mind, that thing that had woken him minutes ago. Stumbling, he made it to the doorway and peered down the hallway. Dudley’s door was shut tight; the Master bedroom was wide open and empty. A supportive hand on the wall, he checked Dudley’s room first. It was in its normal state of disarray, also empty. He peeked into Aunt Petunia’s room but, as he had first thought, no one was there.
What time was it? He looked at the windows in confusion but there was something wrong with them. They were black as pitch, too dark to be real. He moved slowly back down the hall. There was a clock in the kitchen but he never made it that far. He caught the warm glow in the living room and made his way there. Light shimmered about, caught in the rays of shattered glass. He froze in the doorway and stared. He was so tired.
Blood was dripping on the carpet, a large pool growing beneath her fragile, motionless body. Her blonde hair had come loose from the ridiculously tight bun she had kept it in during the summer. A bent fire poker was a few feet away on the rug. Mindlessly, he clawed at the collar of his shirt, pressing frantically at the center of his chest, but the little person was not sleeping quietly, or happy, or afraid. He couldn’t feel it anymore, a hollow space, empty and cold, left in its stead.
Suddenly he knew what day it was. It was impossibly dark because the moon was gone. Voldemort had made a move but it hadn’t been for him. Wizards didn’t beat the life from someone; they had wands and magic to do what was now quickly fading on the carpet. Without another thought he pulled the drapes on the picture window, blocking the scene from the outside, and went in search of his cousin.
He found Dudley in the kitchen, curled in a ball besides Vernon’s broken form. “Where’s Yehl?”
Dudley gasped, his blank expression turning chaotic as he pulled himself to his feet and grabbed onto Harry’s shoulders. “You’re alive! You’re awake!” Dudley cried, shaking Harry violently. “You gotta help my mum!”
“…Where’s Yehl?” Harry asked again, careful not to let Dudley’s raw pain affect him. He had to stay focused. There would be plenty of time for hysterics after, and if not, it just meant he was dead. Things were simpler when you were dead.
At Harry’s calm façade, Dudley froze, his face slowly crumpling. “No… nonono… she’s not!” He shattered, tears falling down his face.
Harry pulled himself from Dudley’s clutching grasp and watched the boy fall in a weeping heap. Yehl was supposed to be here. He patted his pockets with a frown. “Accio Wand,” He called hoarsely. Vernon’s body lurched, Harry’s wand shooting from the man’s pocket. Something wasn’t right. Vernon wouldn’t touch his wand even if it were made of solid gold. With more than a little misgiving, he leaned down and took a good look at Vernon’s face. Something was off… he scrunched his nose, an odd smell filling his senses. It smelled of alcohol and …floo powder.
He turned to the ominous windows and things began to fall into place.
They were out there waiting for him. Vernon had been the only one who could get in. If he hadn’t been stopped when he had, they would have gotten Harry’s wand. They were waiting for Aunt Petunia to take her final breath and the wards keyed to her blood to fall with her so they could attack. He clutched his head. Yehl was out there fighting. She hadn’t betrayed him.
“Don’t leave the house.” He told Dudley. Wearily, he pulled himself back up the stairs and began tearing apart his trunk. Finally he pulled out a small red medical book and two tiny blue vials he kept for emergencies and made his way back down and into the living room. Flipping through the book of emergency healing spells, he found the one he needed. It was a simple one that the book recommended for amateurs. It didn’t necessarily heal, but froze the patient in a suspended status until qualified help could arrive. Once cast, he didn’t have to worry about the wards falling, which was first priority.
“Dudley.” He called, waiting for the boy to wipe his eyes and shuffle in. “No, look at me.” He said firmly, blocking Dudley’s view of his mother’s body. “She’s not dead. I know it looks bad but she’s going to be fine. Magic is keeping her safe. It won’t work if anyone touches her, understand?” He told him sternly. He waited until he was sure his cousin understood and continued. “I’m going to get the Order, Dudley. You are going to wait in here for Yehl or the Order. You are not going to touch anything. You are not going to open the doors for anyone. You are not going to, or let anyone, touch your mum. Do you understand?”
Dudley nodded slowly and stood a little straighter now that he had something to focus on. “Yes… whatever you say. She’s—she’s really going to be okay?” Dudley asked, needing reassurance.
“She’ll be fine once the Order gets here.” He honestly had no idea if Aunt Petunia would make it or not. They would need some top-notch healers by the looks of it. “I’m going to restrain Vernon just in case. Take these.” He handed Dudley the two vials of healing potion. “They can’t help your mum but if you get badly hurt or if Yehl is really hurt, just drink one and you’ll be better. Do not leave the house.” Certain Dudley would obey; he went to the kitchen and used his wand to bound Vernon with thick ropes.
He had very few options for getting help at the moment. He didn’t know how to apparate, he didn’t have a portkey, and the Dursley’s house wasn’t connected to the floo network. The only house that did have a floo was Ms. Figg’s and the lights had yet to come back on in the small house all summer. Thankfully, he didn’t need electricity for a floo to work. As for where to… the Ministry was too dodgy; the Death Eaters always seemed to be there. Gods only knew who hung around at Hogwarts during the summer. The Burrow would have been his first choice but, with that note from Ron, he didn’t even know if the Weasleys were living there anymore. It would have to be Grimmauld Place. The Order always made a point of having someone at headquarters no matter what time and, even if they were all out, he would still have a way to contact them.
“Sophocles!” The owl came floating out from where he had been resting in Harry’s room. Harry grabbed a scrap of notebook paper and rustled around the desk in the other room until he found a red marker. Quickly he scrawled the note, H. Nest gone to G. Place in bold red and tied it to the sweet tempered owl. He couldn’t count on it getting to Remus in time but he’d send it just in case. “To Remus, Sophocles. It’s urgent. I know it’s a little messy but the instant I go out the door you’re going out the chimney, okay? I have to leave the windows shut and the front door isn’t the smartest way for both of us to go.” He petted the owl before pulling his wand and standing at the door. He couldn’t sense anyone out there but he wasn’t fooled.
Frowning, he walked back to the living room and peeked in on his cousin. “Dudley?”
Dudley looked up from where he was staring at his mother’s broken form.
Harry stepped in, hands in his pockets. “It was you. You stopped him, didn’t you?”
Turning back to his mother, silence fell between the two for a long moment. “…She said… she said I was the man of the house.” Harry could see Dudley’s tears fall, the light catching them as it did the glass.
“I heard her screaming a-and I couldn’t move. She kept screaming, and there was this noise… a slamming, heavy, wet noise… I couldn’t m-move… I couldn’t look… Then it stopped. Everything stopped. Dad came out of the room and there was blood—blood everywhere. He was holding your wand… He was smiling.” He turned haunted eyes to Harry. “He was smiling at what he did and I hit him… I kept hitting him, because I hadn’t been able to move and then I couldn’t stop… How could he—? He’s my father! …How could he smile like that…?” He trailed off, clenching his fist even as his voice shook with repressed sobs.
Harry shook off the raw pain that he was picking up from his cousin. Not sure what to say, he decided it was best to stay with the things he did know. “I’m leaving to get help. They’ll be here soon.” He looked at Dudley’s shaking form. “I uh, I tied him up… I should go.”
“Hurry.”
Nodding, Harry stepped out of the room, sparing a final glance to his Aunt’s frozen body. He didn’t want her to die, he realized with a start. Not just because he felt responsible. Not just because he didn’t like to see death. She had been quiet and as stiff as ever since Vernon had, gone but something inside her had been freed. She had only just begun to let that new part of her grow. It wasn’t fair for her to die now. He ruffled his hair up with a deep sigh and squared his shoulders. The door loomed before him, blocking out whatever horrors awaited him with flimsy wood and tremendous wards.
“Now, Sophocles.” Waiting for the owl to fly into the living room and out the fireplace, he threw the door open and slipped outside.
He didn’t pause to assess but did it while moving. Bodies were strewn on the lawn; he didn’t bother to take track, most were in Death Eater cloaks and the rest weren’t even human. Yehl had been busy. He had been hoping to see her, just to know she was all right, but she wasn’t in sight. He trusted she had lured the rest away from the house and wasn’t facing something she couldn’t handle. Honestly, he had no idea what she could handle but he had to have faith that she would get out of it if things got too sticky.
Dismissing all thoughts that didn’t involve getting to a working floo, he scurried through the shadows, listening to the unnaturally quiet street and the voices within warning him to hurry. Dementors roamed near by but not close enough to sense him. Something else was near, a monstrous creature he had never seen before with slumped, lopping shoulders that connected a flat, gruesome face to a hulking body that was almost ape-ish but with armor like scales and hoofed back legs. As impressive as the creature was, Harry wasn’t interested in meeting the car sized beast, and double-timed it across the street before he was scented.
Ms. Figg’s door opened for his wand without incident, the wards welcoming him in. As usual, he was completely amazed by how ordinary the house still looked. He could easily understand how he could have been fooled as a child. He paused at the door, taking in huge breaths of air and letting his adrenaline shaking legs settle. Just a little further and it would be all over. No monsters, no bodies, no indecipherable mounds of flesh that could have been friend, foe, or just a poor innocent walking by. Stomach churning as his brain caught up with exactly what his eyes had seen in the darkness outside the door, he forced his bruised body forward.
No lights were on but Harry didn’t have a problem making it to the living room. He pondered that while searching for the floo powder. The Dursley’s house had been dark as well yet he hadn’t really noticed… it was the same when he was outside. There was the box of floo powder, clear as day, yet all the way across the dark room. He touched his face carefully but his glasses were still forgotten in his room. Was this all just some demented nightmare… a side effect to his exritus?
No… maybe. It didn’t matter. He had to get the Order. Privet Drive wasn’t home but it was as close as any he had at the moment, dream or not. He sparked a fire and threw some floo powder in.
A tremor went down his spine and continued all the way through to the floor. He stared in confusion as a small ornament atop the fireplace began to tremble, closer and closer to the edge until it fell, shattering in a spray of silvered glass across the rumbling floor. Swallowing, he turned to the dark window reflecting the green firelight and his startled face. The scene cracked, elegant webs spreading across each windowpane as tremendous pressure fought the wards from outside. His breath caught and froze as his senses perceived who’s magic was beating on his door. Voldemort was here. The house groaned and gave a deep shudder, pieces of the ceiling falling in a cloud of dust and knickknack dropping from cluttered shelves in musical discord. He could hear thunder crashing in the distance, growing closer with each loud, ground-sundering boom until the little house was shaking apart in the roar. Above it all he heard the screams.
The house gave an alarming lurch and the outer wall split in half with part of the ceiling sagging dangerously. Before the house could collapse and take the floo and him with it, Harry dived into the fireplace and called out 12 Grimmauld Place.
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Awakening To the Dream