Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Ancient and Noble Houses	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 29877 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this fanfic.

Chapter List
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Chapter Thirty-Four—Competition
            God, how Harry wanted to give in and let Draco do whatever he wanted, have this one little reasonable request, because it meant that Draco would touch him, maybe even kiss him, and all of Harry had turned into a desert with longing for that kiss.
            But the bell rang in the middle of his mind, a bell that reminded him of something, and it got louder and louder, until Harry had to listen to it more than he listened to the voice of his yearning for Draco’s touch.
            He wants you to let him put himself in danger. He wants to join you in the quest for the ordeal, and meanwhile he would be in danger from you.
            A bucket of ice water down the back couldn’t have been more effective. Harry shoved Draco away and whirled to face the far wall. He didn’t wipe his lips, because there hadn’t been a kiss, but he kept himself from touching them, either. He stood there, breathing hard, and heard Draco’s astonished and wary breathing back from behind him.
            Draco said something at last. “Harry?”
            Harry snapped himself around. He would have said something, but Draco was standing so close, and baffled, and he’d said Harry’s first name instead of calling him Potter, and it was too much to deal with. Given all the other emotions and the way Harry had wanted to get away from his friends and Draco and the endless, endless pressure of it all…
            Harry began to run.
            He heard Draco shout after him, and start after him, but Harry had always got away from Dudley and his friends when he had a few seconds’ advantage, and he didn’t think Draco would have had a reason to practice running. Harry slid down stairs, stamped through corridors, ran up another staircase as though Dementors were after him, and came out into the Quidditch pitch panting but free.
            He Summoned his broom with a wave of his wand, and slipped onto it. This wasn’t like the night when he had ridden it to the Astronomy Tower to read Bellatrix’s diary. This was something he needed, something hard and blended with excitement and fear and fury of what he would do if he was left alone.
            He kicked off from the ground.
            This high, there was only him and the wind, only howling darkness that he could think of as an enemy if he wanted to, because it would kill him if he fell. He was that high, swirling around and attacking from a dozen different directions, and he kicked and screamed and yelled into the distance as though he still had someone to impress.
            The ground wasn’t impressed. The sky wasn’t impressed. He shut his eyes and felt the wind tug tears from them, and that wasn’t impressed, either.
            He could keep going, he thought suddenly. He could ride to the horizon, over the Forest and away and on. As long as he kept high enough and under the proper charms, no Muggles would see him. He could steal food if he needed to. Stop at Gringotts, change his vault to Muggle money and clear it out. Keep going, on over the ocean.
            Never stopping. Never coming back.
            The vision enchanted him so much that he let his broom drift towards the Forest. He was cursing softly under his breath, his hands fastened to the wood, and his mind was outracing him, pacing and lifting and rising and falling, spinning him visions of what he could have without the house hanging over his head.
            And he would never see Draco again, either.
            Harry hesitated, and that seemed to be all that was needed. Suddenly there was a dim shape on a broom beside him, and someone was shouting into his face.
            “Come the fuck down, Potter, before you kill yourself!”
            Harry jerked back when he recognized Draco. And that voice. It sounded exactly like the one Draco used to use to mock him when they competed at Quidditch, and when Draco taunted him about his parents, and when Draco tried to scare him by appearing as a fake Dementor. It was always about rivalry between them.
            And Draco never wanted Harry to have anything he wanted. Not solitude and privacy, not time to fly, not the ability to get away from the house or leave Draco behind, if that was what he had to do to keep him safe.
            Harry wondered suddenly how many of the things Draco had said and done in the past few days came from that old rivalry. Nothing had really changed for Draco, had it? Harry had dragged him into this against his will. And Draco had already proven that he could resist the house’s influence when he wanted, so he could go away and do whatever he wanted.
            He was free, and Harry wasn’t.
            The resentment throbbed in Harry’s throat and chest, and he retorted, “Make me!” and aimed straight at a cloud overhead.
            It was getting dark, growing hard to see the clouds, but this particular one was rimmed with light from the setting sun, and Harry could still make it out. He rose, hard and fast. He rose and left the ground behind. He could hear Draco still yelling, but he’d lost the will to make him out.
            He was never going to have what he wanted, the two things he most wanted—Draco at a safe distance from him and able to lead the ordinary life that the house had taken from Harry, or Draco touching him, willing to be there, not because of his Black blood or the house but because he wanted Harry back. The way he had touched Harry in the corridor was just another way to manipulate him.
            He was a Malfoy and a Slytherin and a Black by nature, and it would be fatal for Harry to forget that.
            “Potter, you stupid—”
            Harry glanced to the side. Of course Draco had kept up with him, since he was a great flyer and Harry didn’t have a broom that was incredibly fast now. Draco’s face was pale, and he shot out one hand as though he would grip Harry’s broom and hold him back.
            Restrain him.
            Harry clapped his heels to the sides and spun as he rose. He heard Draco shouting about that, too. Again he didn’t have to listen to the words. He just laughed nastily and soared upwards.
            It was freezing cold here, without the leather gear he wore during games to protect him. But that was the point, Harry thought. What was the good of being an orphan if you couldn’t take advantage of the fact that no one was watching over you? And there was no Snape now, and no Dumbledore, and no Sirius. He was master of himself, whether or not he wanted to be. Draco could just get used to it.
            Higher and higher. Harry glanced down once, and saw Draco hovering below, still staring upwards but apparently just as glad not to follow him. Harry smiled.
            The edges of his eyes and his smile felt frozen. It didn’t matter. He was here, and he was higher up than the whole rest of the world.
            He was almost level with the cloud now. Around him sparked the stars, more numerous and more lovely than Harry had ever seen them. His eyes picked out Draco, and Ursa Major. He remembered that much from Astronomy class, although almost nothing else.
            Hell, would he have noticed the constellation Draco without his intense engagement with Draco as a person?
            His lips twitched, and he thought he felt ice shards fall off them. He kicked his broom savagely and rose again. He was going to leave behind the stupid thoughts even if he had to fight them.
            The wind seemed to embed shards of ice anew, this time between his fingers. It didn’t matter, Harry thought. The house ought to be happy. He was higher than anything now, superior. And the air around him was pure, so it didn’t matter whether or not his blood was. He wanted to shout to Grimmauld Place. Am I finally a worthy heir of you? Are you going to leave me alone now, and stop pulling on me?
            There was a soft stirring around him. Harry stared. He thought it was a hallucination, and wondered exactly how high he had gone, to experience something like this.
            There was a shape in front of him, a black dragon, or a coiled snake, like the ones he had seen in the shadows at Grimmauld Place. They stared at him, the many bobbing heads on slender necks, the one slender body. They were many and one at the same time.
            We will never stop pulling on you. Come face the ordeal.
            And it really felt as though Harry might want to, if the ordeal was no worse than this, rising up and up forever, doing something he loved and trusted, the one thing he was really good at in the wizarding world. His skill at Parseltongue had come from Voldemort. He had only got so good at Defense because of the war. But he was good at flying because he just was.
            If this was the ordeal, he would go to meet it.
            His hands numb on the broom, his eyelids twitching with the chill, he soared higher and higher, to meet the snakes.
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Ancient and Noble Houses