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Harry Potter and The Sanguine Brother's Bond	By : OranjeJoe Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 7043 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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
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Thank you all so much for the reviews, its really quite encouraging. I told myself I was writing this solely for myself, but in all honesty I check my email constantly to see if anyone has subscribed or reviewed. I’ll be trying to cut down on the size of the paragraphs from now on. Also, I’m sorry about the Kreacher misspelling, I thought I changed it but I guess I uploaded the previous version.

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Never before had a door knob given Malfoy such trouble. His hand gripped it nervously but refused to turn the small round piece of metal. It was a relatively simple device, but it was the boy on the other side that made this simple turning of the knob so incredibly difficult. He had checked nearly every room in the house before eventually stopping in front of this door, and he was almost certain Harry was beyond.

“Does master want Kreacher to open the door for him, sir?”

The ragged old house elf came shuffling around the corner out of the darkness. He looked around shiftily, seeming very out of place in the newly renovated house. He turned his huge eyes imploringly to Malfoy and reached out his hand towards the door.

“Very well.” said Draco with a sigh, taking pity on the old elf who had little left to do, now that most of the furniture in the house was self cleaning. Malfoy smiled softly when he remembered his mother’s face when the couch she had been lounging on began to shake, sending dust flying up around a very irate Black. Narcissa had recently taken to using her maiden name, something that made Malfoy feel more than a little uncomfortable.

He followed Kreacher into the room, thinking bitterly about the shame he and his father had wrought upon their family name.

“The filthy half-blood master Potter is in here, there are many other rooms in this house master Malfoy, I can show you if you like, sir” grumbled Kreacher in a low voice.

“I think I shall be okay for a few minutes at least, and do refrain from calling Potter that from now on.”

Both Kreacher and Potter looked as if they’d been slapped across the face. “Kreacher does not take order’s from a filthy blood traitor.” The wrinkly old elf scooted deftly out the door in an attempt to escape the finality of Harry giving him the very same order.

Despite the fact that Harry had quickly recomposed his face he was clearly still in shock, far from thinking about giving order’s to the house elf he didn’t even consider his own.

“So, Potter… how are we going to go about this lessons thing anyway?” said the blond in an attempt to banish the three hundred pound Gorrilla that had been lumbering about the room, breathing into the heavy air about their faces.

Harry’s face was resolute and Draco found himself squirming under the fierce intensity of the probing green eyes. Harry’s face was side lit by the falling light, and Draco was finding it hard to breath. Then he remembered that he was supposed to be slightly miffed by Harry’s girlish and overly emotional reaction during the bath.

Harry’s lip quivered before he spoke.

Malfoy was no longer thinking about being miffed.

They began with the wand movement and incantation. Draco was an able student and had perfected the movement almost as fast as Hermione had during the DA meetings. Harry was pleasantly surprised with the ease in which they interacted, almost forgetting that he was patiently coaching the very person whom he had nearly killed only a few months ago.

Malfoy repeated the wand movement, holding his arm a little too low, and not quite exaggerating the flick at the end. Harry leaned in a grasped Draco’s wand hand in his own, pulling him through the correct motion. “the books will often tell you not to flick the wand at the end of you stroke, but I find that if you do a sort of flick like this - No well I guess its more of a jab, the Patronus will come out with more speed, now for a defensive shield….”

Malfoy barely heard any of this, it was as if the world had closed in around him the moment they had touched. His vision faded in and out with the beat of his heart, and while one part of him nearly buckled under the weight of Harry’s hand, another was quietly disgusted. He had not expected himself to be this deep into his attraction to Harry, after all it hadn’t been but an hour since he’d first admitted it to himself. Well he might as well go with it then, thought Draco as he turned to stare meaningfully into Harry’s eyes.

They gazed into each other’s eyes for a moment and Harry felt an unfamiliar pull as he gazed into those glistening, steely blue eyes. He pulled away from Malfoy and felt the air brush past his face. The faintest smell of evergreen and wild flowers filled his senses.

“Well let’s give it a go then shall we?” Harry pushed his glasses back up on his nose, and cleared his throat. “I’ll give you three tries, Draco, and then we’ll have a little talk.”

Readying himself, Malfoy tried to recall his feeling from the time when his mother had accepted his new place in the world. Closing his eyes, he tried to imaging her arms around him once again.

“Expecto Patronum!” Malfoy flick-jabbed his wand at the end of his swoosh, as Harry had indicated. A small whitish wisp darted out of the end of his wand but disappeared nearly as quickly as it came. Had they been on less frosty terms at the moment, Draco would have braced himself for a snide comment about impotency, but as it were Harry merely gestured for him to try again.

Largely the same thing happened the next two times, though on the third Draco swore that it was beginning to have more of a distinct form. Harry stayed very silent during the entire process, choosing instead to watch Malfoy’s movements scrupulously.

Those green eyes seemed to contain a great deal of wisdom; Draco thought about the difference between himself and the young man who was patiently coaching him. In a few short months the entirety of Draco’s future had become misty and clouded once again. Though unlike the youthful hope for a bright and shinning future he had cherished as a child, Draco felt a great deal of fear and trepidation. He was once again amazed by Harry’s solidarity, for despite the fact that Harry knew he would soon face the Dark Lord, he did not go about his day as if it would be his last living look at the world. As he stood there, watching Draco with such focused intensity, he seemed to have a curiosity about the world that Draco had all but lost in the long year he had spent as Voldemort’s unwilling assassin.

“You alright Malfoy?”

He released the tension that had crept unknown into his face and nodded his head in Harry’s direction.

“Well alright,” said Harry as he clasped his hands and rubbed them together, “I suppose we should discuss the theory of the thing a bit more, sit down.”

As Harry sank into one of the arm chairs feeling the plush cushioning conform beautifully to his body. Dumbledore certainly seemed to know his way around comfort, but Harry couldn’t help but feel that he was going to fall asleep if he sat for too long. Then he noticed Malfoy looking expectantly at him through the golden light that now suffused the room. The sunlight made Draco’s blond hair glow with matching intensity, an effect that was equally as stunning as the moonlight on his soft skin. Harry only just caught himself before he slipped into an interior debate concerning which one was actually the better of the two.

Slightly flustered, he turned to Malfoy and launched into a familiar explanation of the basic principles of the spell. He had confidence in his words, having worked out the most potent phraseology during his time in the DA, but it increased dramatically as he saw a rather awed expression creep across Malfoy’s visage.

“Let me ask you something, Draco. Have you ever thought about what happiness actually is? I mean really thought about it?”

Draco listened to the way his name rolled off Harry’s tongue, and watched his lips form the sounds, thinking surely this is what happiness actually is.

Harry was slightly taken aback by the way Draco closed his eyes and smiled, but continued after an awkward clearing of his throat.

“Well- I think people who have successfully conjured a corporeal patronus have a new perspective on happiness.” Draco’s eyes had opened again, and he was listening to Harry, seeming to absorb his words like a sponge. Needless to say Harry had never expected this kind of attention from Malfoy even in all his wildest imaginings.

“You see, in sorting out which memories produce the strongest magic I have realized a slight distinction. I suppose its really down to a matter of perspective, but happiness cannot be merely a release from pain and suffering. It has to be the experience of some novel joy, something better than you could have ever expected, not something to quell the pain from which you’ve been craving release.”

He let Malfoy think about what he had said for a a few moments, going over it to make sure he had conveyed it as clearly as he could.

After a few silent moments in which the youths sat in comfortable, heavy silence, Draco said,

“What about love?”

Harry felt his heart beat loud in his ears as he thought about the crushing, crippling loneliness that had been gripping him in the night. When Harry finally spoke, his voice was choked and quiet.

“I’m- I’m not sure. What did you think of Malfoy? It might help me understand a bit of what is missing from the - er - procedure…”

Draco blushed and furrowed his brow as he looked across the small space between them. It had grown quite dark now, and Malfoy flicked his wand at the fire place, where a fire began murmuring immediately. Harry felt the heat on his face as he watched Malfoy open and close his mouth a few times, trying to begin without success.

Finally he began speaking, in a very quiet, reserved voice, “It was the day Dumbledore had brought me here, saying it was one of the few places Voldemort could not - ” he stopped himself and looked up at Harry, who was equally in shock, but gave him an encouraging smile. Draco continued. “…find. I lay in the creaky darkness, brooding over who I had been until this point, and how I was going to remake myself. I don’t expect a blank slate… No, I don’t deserve a blank slate. But- but I want to thank you, Harry, for giving me this much of a chance. Really and truly, it’s more than I could have wished for.” He looked up, and his watery eyes seemed to reach right into that lonely place in Harry’s chest.

Harry had not prepared himself for this kind of thing, he had not expected Malfoy to be this open, or this humble. The mention of the blank slate caused Harry a pang of guilt, perhaps he had been a little testy earlier. Certainly Dumbledore would say Malfoy deserved a second chance, though Harry resolved not to give Malfoy quite as many as Dumbledore had

given Snape.

“You’re welcome, then, I suppose. I never even half dreamed any of this could happen. I mean, this, us sitting here, together.”

Draco could tell from the choppiness of his sentences that Harry had been caught off guard by his bluntness. He himself was surprised by the relative ease with which he had said those words. After a brief silence, during which Harry fidgeted nervously in his recliner, Malfoy continued, saying,

“I’m sorry, I didn’t finish telling you about my memory…”

Harry had his hand placed nervously around his face, so that Draco only barely heard the muffled words, “ ‘sno problem.”

“I told my mother all about my - my … well, things. And she hugged me, without judgement, the way a family should.”

Harry tried to speak, in order to keep himself from imagining what I must be like to be comforted by the warm embrace of a mother, but could think of nothing to say. After finally choking back the dull but familiar pain that he associated with remembering his lack of family, he mumbled thanks to Draco. He looked up to see Malfoy sitting far back into his chair, gazing into the fire. The light danced across his face and Harry fallowed it across the refined forms of Draco’s face.

He turned to look at the fire himself. It was agonizing, trying to keep his mind focused and away from thoughts of Draco. Too often he found him self stealing glances at Draco, transfixed by the play of light across his eyes and lips, or the way it wove in and out of his hair.

Harry gave a great, heaving sigh and sank back into his chair, feeling the warmth and the softness close in about him. The air smelled heavy, and he felt as he did when he sat in the comfy poufs of Trelawney’s classroom. Draco turned to look at him as he sighed, and Harry couldn’t help but feel that Draco’s constant attention and fervent glances seemed too frequent. Not even Hermione, the queen of worried looks, scrutinized Harry’s face as often as Draco seemed to be doing. This thought floated across his relaxed mind, and he gave it a loose sort of focus. He knew Malfoy was only looking at him, studying him, to see if Harry was over their little tiff, but a quiet part of him wished for something a little more.

In the meditative state induced by the coziness of the room, Harry felt his way around himself, exploring his various components. He often liked to think this way, pulling out each individual part of his personality and looking at it, picking it apart, to see exactly what he was feeling. He looked first at his pride, which had been inflated by Malfoy’s relative success with his first attempt at the Patronus. Thoughts of Malfoy caused his loneliness to come floating up from the depths of his consciousness, breaking free from his attempts to shove it back down into the depths of his mind. The more he tried to suppress it, the more he tried to sequester it beneath the layers of his other emotions, the more it seemed to grow and swell. Its inky blackness expanded out to the corner’s of his vision, its languid and bulbous expanse of fleshy darkness throbbing painfully against his temples.

Winding its slender tentacles around him, Harry felt his loneliness begin to lift and tear at his skin. He felt a burning pain creep slowly up his arm, the hurt came in slow waves, as if across

a great distance. But I seemed to grow more powerful as it barreled across the darkness to batter him against the fetid walls that surrounded him. Tensing and warping, the darkness began to tear muscle from bone, ripping the flesh apart with fervent gluttony. The pain was beyond the comprehension of Harry’s mind at this point, it had become a high whine that seemed to emit in all directions from the jagged scar on his forehead.

The darkness began to tense and convulse, chewing Harry into oblivion within its black, torpid mass. As Harry hung mangled in the grip of his loneliness, a high hissing voice rang out of the void.

“You are weak, Harry Potter.” The words rubbed up against Harry with a sickening wetness. “I hunt you boy, and before the end you shall feel such pain. Such pain.” The last words were graced with a slimy cackle that reverberated around the emptiness in Harry’s chest.

He had been on the verge of dozing of when he heard Harry give a great sigh and lean back into his chair. He stole a quick glance before he remembered that he ought not do this every time Potter moved, it was probably becoming noticeable. He settled back into his chair in an attempt to look non-pulsed and aloof. It was not long before he was back feeling the warm tickle on the nape of his neck, it told him sleep was near. As his concentration lapsed, he felt his eyes wander back to Harry, but he did not care. Harry’s eyes were closed, and Draco was entranced by the flicker of light on his lashes, and the dark locks of hair that fell about his face. How long Draco sat there, staring endlessly at Harry’s features, he did not know; but a slow change began to take place. A slight furrow had appeared between his brow, and his lips became taut. Draco could see Harry’s eyes flickering back and forth behind his lids; his hands began to claw at the arms of the chair. Draco stood up nervously, watching the tendons on the back of Harry’s hands and neck convulse in a way that caused Malfoy sympathetic pain. In a sudden movement Harry gripped his arms and began to dig his nails into his skin, raking them down his arm. A fierce, dense wave of air blew back Draco’s robes and the fire went out with a huff. Draco groped in the dark for Harry’s arms, and when he finally gripped them, he felt something hot and wet run onto his fingers. Harry’s hands, lacking his own flesh, dug into Draco’s wrist.

Harry’s eyes flew open, glowing unnaturally in the darkness. Draco could see by their glow that darkness had crept into the veins on Harry’s face, and blood dripped from the lighting scar on his forehead. It glistened as Harry rose up and began to speak in a hissing voice that reverberated darkly around the room. The world seemed to pulse in a sickening manner as Draco heard the crippling voice of the Dark Lord. It rose out of Harry’s throat with a monstrous power, shaking through Malfoy’s chest and throwing him away from Harry.

He broke through the pain and gripped his wand, pointing it at the chest of the boy now floating off the floor in front of him. Malfoy knew that Voldemort was using some form of legilimency to break into Harry’s mind this way, but knew not how to banish it. His mind seized upon the word, and with a power in his voice he roared, “Infitialis Exulan!”

A silver-blue light rocketed out of Draco’s wand and struck Harry square in the chest. The floor boards creaked as the silver shock wave blew about the room, Draco’s spell had rejected and banished Voldemort from Harry’s mind. A slimy black mass began to spew violently from Harry’s mouth, flexing and emitting a howling, anguished yell. I hung limply in the air a few feet from Harry’s head, where small silver slits of light began to slash feverishly at the ropey tendons that held up its from. The Dark Lords howl of rage filled the room and shook the furniture as the black mass burst and dissipated with a deep booming reverberation.

Draco lay panting as an old, but strong, voice lit a wand from somewhere behind Malfoy, illuminating the crumpled form of Harry Potter, who lay crying on the floor.

Harry found himself in the cool stillness of early dawn. Steel gray mist drifted calmly into his mind and he breathed in the sweet scent of evergreen. He reached his hand out and twined his fingers in the wild flowers that lay about him. He felt tears streaming down his face, snapping open his eyes in shock as he realized that they were not his own. He felt hands on his shoulders and looked up into the cool gray eyes of Draco Malfoy. A tear ran from the corner of Malfoy’s eye to the tip of his nose, where it fell onto Harry’s cheek. Harry felt himself rise up slightly towards Malfoy, but grew weak as he watched Draco’s bottom lip quiver when he drew in a hitched breath. Harry’s hand unwound from Draco’s hair and drifted to his cheek. Draco reached up his own hand and gently leaned into Harry’s palm, closing his eyes as he did so.

Harry felt tears sting at the corner of his eyes, and all too soon Draco had risen to face Dumbledore as he stepped forward out of the darkness.
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Harry Potter and The Sanguine Brother's Bond