Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Endurance	By : WinterRaven Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 29171 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any of Harry Potter universe. I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-One
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Four
- 5-Five
- 6-Six
- 7-Seven
- 8-Eight
- 9-Nine
- 10-Ten
- 11-Eleven
- 12-Twelve
- 13-Thirteen
- 14-Fourteen
- 15-Fifteen
- 16-Sixteen
- 17-Seventeen
- 18-Eighteen
- 19-Nineteen
- 20-Twenty
- 21-Twenty-One
- 22-Twenty-Two
- 23-Twenty-Three
- 24-Twenty-Four
- 25-Twenty-Five
- 26-Twenty-Six
- 27-Twenty-Seven
- 28-Twenty-Eight
- 29-Twenty-Nine
- 30-Thirty
- 31-Thirty-One
- 32-Thirty-Two
- 33-Thirty-Three
- 34-Thirty-Four
- 35-Thirty-Five
- 36-Thirty-Six
- 37-Thirty-Seven
- 38-Thirty-Eight
- 27
- 28
- 29
"I claim in the last hour of this known hysterical breathing that I have nothing to give but a signature of wind." – Terrance Hayes, "Wind in a Box"

Twenty-Eight

Was the shining light above him from a dream? Could he lose himself in his dreams forever?

He forced himself to think of the pleasant—the smell of grass, the sound of a laugh, or a moan, his lover’s cries, the feeling of chest against chest, hearts thumping, the swaddling warmth of arms, strong arms, or protection.

But this was not a dream, and Harry knew it; something deep within him knew.

The light grew clearer and clearer and he groaned, forcing himself back to the present. He blinked and when he opened his eyes again, he tried to scream but the sound was muffled, caught in his throat by a gag over his lips. That light was not a light, but a flash of malicious eyes as they bored into his.

Eyes that were red like fire, as empty as a vacant volcano. Just as dangerous.

Harry was looking straight at Voldemort.

*

He was bound and gagged by magical, black ropes; they cut into his skin and as Harry came to his senses, every part of him alight with terror, he could feel blood seeping from him, from his wrists and ankles, from around his neck and face, dripping steadily below, seeping into his clothing. The ropes were forcing him upright and he was floating in mid-air, a few inches off the ground. Draco was in the same position to his left.

Voldemort stood directly in front of the two boys, his horrifying eyes traveling back and forth between the suspended figures.

Harry tried to determine where he was before more panic took over his whole being—they were in a room, it was cavernous, huge, flooding with sunlight from massive, high windows but there seemed to be no doors or entrances or exits. They were trapped, locked in and it wasn’t just with Voldemort. Twenty or thirty feet away, behind Voldemort was a straight line of Death Eaters, each wearing their mask, their identities and faces hidden. They stood in silence, watching as Voldemort stared at the rousing boys, waiting, perhaps for a task or a command, for their master to act.

Harry caught a quick glimpse of Draco—his lover’s wide, terrified eyes—and Harry cursed himself with death, disbelieving his own stupidity, the fact that they were here because of him. And no one knew but he and Draco and the people in this place. No one could help them. Harry knew he would die tonight. There was no other way out of it, trapped and wand-less, defenseless, like a pig up for slaughter. He and Draco were experiencing their last moments together and Harry stifled a sob. He wished his life could have all ended with a kiss, with the blissful feel of their lips as one being, connecting—

Voldemort gave Harry a cold smile, his razor sharp teeth stretching across his ghostly white face. He was much taller than Harry remembered and he stood near the boy, examining the his face with rampant curiosity, almost like a child studying a new toy, a new plaything.

Then he spoke.

“How interesting,” came the low hiss that sent shivers through Harry’s sore, bleeding frame, “that we find you and Draco Malfoy together.”

The only sounds after were Draco’s muffled screams. Voldemort gave a soft laugh, a low chuckle.

“But I’m in no position to complain,” Voldemort continued in his deadly whisper—he began to pace between Harry and Draco, staring at them unblinkingly. “I have planned this for months now. I have been waiting for you to make the error of stepping outside, Harry Potter—and I knew you would.” He smiled again. "You are an impulsive and a foolish child. Predictable. Weak."

There was a long pause where Harry tried to repress the sob that threatened to break through him; he tried to break himself from the bonds around him, spit the gag from his mouth, ignore Voldemort's words.

“I have been waiting,” Voldemort repeated, looking at him hungrily now. "And tonight, I am finished doing so."

He walked away from Harry toward his silent Death Eaters, pacing up and down the line as if lost in thought, as if Harry or Draco weren’t tied up and at his mercy only a few feet away.

“Explain something to me, Lucius,” Voldemort said suddenly, stopping in front of a Death Eater who was exactly his height. “What is your son doing with Harry Potter?”

Lucius Malfoy made no remark from behind his mask. He seemed to be struggling to speak. Voldemort snarled and raised his wand suddenly, pointing it at Lucius’ chest and Draco was screaming even wilder from beneath his gag. Even though his sound could not escape, Harry knew it was a cry that begging for mercy, begging for his father’s life—

But he didn’t have to.

Harry was met with Snape’s voice before Voldemort could act. The man was swift and ready.

“If you may permit me to speak for him, my Lord,” Snape murmured smoothly from behind his mask—he was to Lucius’ left, “it was I who suggested the two should be together.”

Voldemort did not remove his wand from Lucius but turned to face Snape’s masked form with a curious expression.

“You, Severus?” Voldemort asked in almost polite indifference.

“Yes, my Lord. You see, after my daughter attempted to fix Draco’s deviancy, I realized her efforts may not have been enough,” Snape said, his voice now louder, more confident. “I knew that we couldn’t stamp the disgusting trait out of Draco, so I suggested to Lucius that we convince Draco to court Potter. It turns out they have the same—ah—affliction.”

Voldemort let out another low chuckle and the Death Eaters’ laughter broke through the room, piercing through Harry like a knife. The jeers were cold and cruel, reveling in Lucius' fear as much as the boys'.

“You can imagine, my Lord, that this was the perfect opportunity to get Potter right in our hands,” Snape continued, bowing slightly to Voldemort as the laughter died away. “Perhaps make the effort easier so you could finally have him.”

And Snape bowed fully, sinking to his knees, his pale hands reaching forth and brushing the hem of Voldemort's black robes.

“I ask for your forgiveness and for Lucius’, my Lord, for not informing you of this plan sooner.”

Voldemort did not respond immediately but eventually commanded Snape to stand again.

“You are forgiven,” Voldemort whispered, very close to Snape’s mask. “But remember, Snape, Lord Voldemort does not forgive or forget easily.”

“My Lord, I am grateful.”

“Lucius, you are lucky Snape has a way with words,” Voldemort remarked, giving the masked man one last appraising look before turning back toward a stunned Harry and Draco.

“Y-yes, my Lord, thank you—” Lucius gasped but Voldemort shushed him with his raised hand.

“Though your son may have been part of Snape’s plan,” Voldemort whispered, advancing forward toward the two boys again, his eyes only for Draco's, “his delinquency deserves to be punished—”

Harry knew what was coming before it did and he cried out against the gag as Voldemort screamed, “Crucio!”

Harry snapped his eyes shut, terror coursing through him at the sound Draco’s stuffed screams—Harry wanted so desperately to break from the bonds, to throw himself between his lover and this torture, to absorb the pain for him, as penance for this situation, for this madness.

But it stopped as quickly as it started, and Harry’s eyes flew open, finding Draco’s limp, magically levitating form—

“Are you scared, Harry Potter?” Voldemort snarled his eyes focusing on Harry now.

Harry stared back into the face, refusing to give away his anguish and though his emerald eyes were brimming in tears, Voldemort could tell his defiance piercing through them. He raised his wand and sent a vicious slash spell down Harry’s cheek and Harry winced despite his reserve, feeling a cut opening in his face, blood gushing everywhere.

“You dare look at Lord Voldemort that way, stupid boy?” the man hissed in rage. He opened his mouth to snarl another curse at Harry but there were sudden popping sounds—the sounds of Apparition.

Harry looked around wildly—others were here.

His heart skipped a beat, lept over several. He saw their forms briefly, only in seconds. Lupin, Tonks, Moody but Voldemort gave a high shriek, an uncontrolled laugh and brandished his wand like a whip toward the new figures. The Order members were bound and gagged like Harry and Draco instantly, before any of them could raise their own wands or cast any spells. Harry cried underneath his gag, his one quick hope for help extinguished.

The Order members toppled over to the ground, struggling against the bonds but Voldemort glared at them before setting his eyes back to Harry, a wild laugh on his thin lips.

The Death Eaters were joining their master in his laugh and Harry was praying, hoping against all hope that now is when Snape would act, defend him, defend them—

“I’ll have no more of this. You have thwarted me long enough,” Voldemort hissed, his slit-like eyes glaring upon Harry’s frightened, trembling form. He stepped forward and the laughing ending instantly. There seemed to be a bated breath in the room, the Death Eaters' excitement pulsing. Voldemort's wand was pointing at Harry now and Draco was screaming against his gag. “No one here can help you, save you.” Voldemort stared at Harry’s scar and then yelled, “No one can protect you!”

He was ready to kill but Harry was not looking into Voldemort's eyes. He was locked with Draco's, weeping, knowing this would be the last thing he saw, the blue eyes, like a crystal clear sky... But something happened, the unexpected—

From behind Voldemort, where his Death Eaters stood, emerged a strong, clear voice that cried, “I will!” It was a female voice that rang with every positive and beautiful feeling in the world. It filled Harry briefly with hope again.

And many things happened at once.

Harry was blown backwards, off his feet by the force of a sudden shielding spell, creating a powerful, invisible barrier between himself, Draco, the Order members and Voldemort; the magical ropes that bound them all were instantly released, and Harry scrambled to his feet, trying to understand what was happening; he saw in the far distance another shield charm had been put up where the Death Eaters stood, barricading them from Voldemort and whoever the woman was defending Harry; Harry saw as Snape and Lucius Malfoy threw off their masks and began dueling scores of other Death Eaters, finally declaring their true allegiances to the Order, to Dumbledore, to the Light—

But he heard Draco’s piercing scream, saw as his lover rushed toward the barrier between them, slamming his bloody fists on it in desperation, yelling, “No, no, no!”

And Harry turned, all thoughts to run over to Draco dispelled. He moved with dread, watched in terror as the woman who had come to his aid became visible to him, threw her hood and mask from her pale, determined face, her black hair flying about her.

It was Elisha.

She swooped toward the Dark Lord, her wand drawn, ready to battle.

Voldemort gave a high shriek of anger at the sight of her, his horrible face contorted.

“You!” he screamed like an animal, “You dare betray me!”

But she hurled a magnificent violet spell at him and Voldemort was forced to conjure a shield to protect himself; the force of Elisha’s spell caused Voldemort to stumble backwards, nearly slipping over himself. She shrieked another spell at the man, and Voldemort turned on his heel, disappearing for a moment before materializing behind her and for a heart stopping moment, Harry thought she was finished, but she was too quick. She pointed her wand at the ground, screamed something incomprehensible to Harry and the floors shook with such violence, Harry was thrown off his feet again, unstable, the floor trembling like an earthquake.

Voldemort shot back from her, almost as if trying to run away and she turned around to face him. The shaking stopped but maddening lights were breaking from their wands now, slamming off the invisible shields between them, rocketing off and exploding in the air with the force of cannons. They were both screaming complicated spells and incantations, blocking and shooting at each other...

And behind Harry was Lupin. He was holding on to Harry’s shoulders, saying something in the boy’s ear but Harry did not register it. He could not. He watched in fear as Voldemort and Elisha dueled wildly, spells flying back and forth that Harry had never seen or dreamed of; and he heard Lupin’s awed, terrified voice in the background, “Impossible, impossible!” as another one of Elisha’s incredible spells nearly knocked Voldemort over.

But as suddenly as they began they stopped. They began pacing each other, circling like two wolves ready to rip the other apart.

“You know what I can do!” Elisha screamed, her voice hoarse and her face flushed. "There's no way out of this!"

“The only way out is death!” Voldemort snarled.

Harry saw with a jolt that Voldemort looked nervous—was he afraid? Elisha smiled at the terrifying monster before her.

“The only way you can kill me,” she whispered, “is if I let you."

There was a silence so absolute between them; Voldemort’s eyes narrowed. Behind the barrier with Harry, everyone had stopped moving, stopped breathing, only to listen. In the far distance, there was the muffled sounds of Snape and Lucius' ongoing duels, as if they weren't aware what was happening...

“If you let me,” Voldemort repeated to Elisha with a hiss.

She nodded and he gave a cruel, high laugh that caused the hairs on Harry’s body to stand on end. And Harry thought she was merely jesting with him, that she would produce another incredible spell in her attempt to destroy Voldemort but quite suddenly, she put her wand down.

She released it and let it fall to the ground with a clatter. Harry felt the breath knocked from his lungs; it took all of his strength to remain standing, to try throw his body against the invisible barrier she had set between themselves and the danger she faced. Harry didn’t understand, his mind was reeling—she couldn’t do this, she couldn't die—he couldn’t let her.

“You’re sacrificing yourself for Harry Potter?” Voldemort yelled with mirth. “Foolish girl! You cannot save him any more than his dead mother can!”

“NO!” Harry wailed from behind the barrier. For him? He had to stop her from ending her life from his mistake. He and Draco were yelling wildly, like wounded dogs. “NO! Don’t do this!”

She ignored the pleads, the begs, the sounds of Harry and Draco’s bodies thrashing against the barrier to get to her, to protect her somehow. And Voldemort began pacing around her rigid frame, taunting her with wild jeers and heckles, “Are you afraid, little girl?”

Harry kept screaming until his voice broke, until he felt a tear in his throat, kept weeping and crying and begging her to defend herself. To live.

Voldemort stopped circling and stood face to face with her, cruel red eyes locked on her wide, weeping black ones. And she whispered a prayer under her breath, the words tearing at Voldemort for they were pure and good: “Even though I walk through the valley in the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for You are with me—”

And her eyes made contact with Harry’s, both swimming in tears and Harry could have sworn he saw her mouth, "I love you."

The last word fluttered from her lips as Voldemort pointed his wand at her heart. He screamed the dreaded spell, green light erupting and slamming into Elisha’s thin, frail frame.

Harry watched as she collapsed to the ground, her body tumbling into a graceful heap, her eyes still open as she fell on her back. He felt suffocated, did not register the wild sounds Draco was making, the fact that Lupin had grabbed a hold of the blonde as he fell over in grief, the fact that, from across the room, Snape had just witnessed his daughter’s death and the man was howling a terrifying, bloodcurdling cry. Harry could only see one thing, just her body and he remembered it, remembered the feel of her bones next to his, the night they slept in the same bed, the brimming tears in her eyes at their last conversation, her big black eyes, once so warm and full of fire, and her smile, a flash of happiness, the whisper of a lost joke between them...

Elisha’s laugh. He remembered the way her head tipped back and her eyes crinkled. He remembered the sound. The tinkle of it still rang in his ears.

TBC

Author's Note: So dear readers, I have done a double post today/tonight. I will be busy for a day or two and won't be able update in the interim. As a side note: this chapter was was as painful for me as it was for you but it was necessary. You'll see why soon. As always thank you for sticking with my story. Thanks for reading every time I update! I hope my writing is up to par with your expectations. I will keep trying my best!
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Endurance