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
- 37
- 38
Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who read and yes, thanks to everyone who reviewed. I take in all comments, ones written in spite, ones written with kindness and everything in between. Art is a complex, and selfish, pursuit. As a result, we let ego get in the way. I am a victim of ego but my note was not that. It was my opinion. Some readers chose to interpret my note as a demand that everyone blindly follow my ideas. That was not the case and I will not apologize for what I believe. I forgive the strange and unwarranted attacks on my personal character. I have lived through the anger that promotes meanness. Not everyone agrees with me, and that's okay. We'd live in a dull world if that were the case.

I want to end this blurb with a fitting quote (paraphrased) from Paul Coehlo's The Alchemist: "[Some] people think they know how you should live your life without having a clue how to live their own."
*Note addendum: I was asked to remove the author note that I wrote before this chapter, since it takes up the "chapter" space. I am glad, however, that I was able to voice my opinion. Enjoy the chapter.

Thirty-Eight
The room in Grimmauld Place slowly drifted back into focus, Elisha's ghost-like image slipping away quietly. Harry clutched the white wand tightly in his hand; it was all he had left of her. He absently felt how wet his face was from crying. He barely realized what he was doing as he sank to the floor, coming to rest on his knees. His mind was whirring. How had she managed to activate those memories within him? Memories that weren't his? Harry hiccuped and rubbed his eyes, the wand still held in his palm.
Elisha had given him two tools, her thoughts and this wand.
Harry stared at it; even in the dimness of the room, the wand gleamed, almost glowed in its incredibly pure whiteness. His mother's wand. Harry touched the wand slowly, his fingers running over the base. His mother had once held this in her hands... She had once used it, perhaps as a force for good. Perhaps Elisha believed their mother's power and goodness would come through if Harry yielded her weapon.
How? he thought. How?
He rose, almost as if in a trance and zombie-like unlocked the door to the room. The dimness of the corridor followed him. He found his way back to the room he and Draco shared. His lover was staring quietly out of a dingy and dirty window, lost in contemplation. His head turned at the sound of Harry walking back into their bedroom.
"Harry," Draco whispered, his eyes suddenly flashing with concern at the blank look on Harry's face. "Are you okay? What happened with Snape?"
"I..." Harry whispered, moving his eyes away from Draco and back to the wand. Draco also caught sight of it and stood up slowly from where he was seated.
"What is that?"
"It's... it's my mother's wand... Elisha gave it to me."
The silence between them was absolute. Harry glanced up. If he weren't so encumbered with conflicting emotions, he would have laughed at the look on Draco's face, the blonde's mouth agape.
"When did she give this to you?"
"N-Now," Harry said, his voice barely audible. He cringed, realizing how crazy he sounded, saying that a dead person had given him something. Draco was blinking but not responding so Harry continued. "You know how Dumbledore said that she passed me her powers when she died?" Draco nodded. "Well, she gave me her memories too. Snape and I figured it out not too long ago."
"And you were able to access them?" Draco asked, walking forward so he was inches from Harry. They both looked down at the wand; it glinting brightly.
"Yes, I was," Harry whispered. "I asked for her... her help, and all of the sudden... well, it was like I was thrown into a Pensieve... She knew I was going to have trouble figuring out how to move forward, so she showed me how, I suppose."
"How did she give you the wand then?" Draco asked sharply.
"She passed it to me in a memory."
More silence.
"Don't ask me how," Harry said, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. He suddenly felt overcome with exhaustion, as if someone had put a hose to him and drained every last bit of energy he had. "I don't even think Dumbledore would know how she did it."
"I had no idea she could do magic like that," Draco said with a edge of sadness in his voice.
"Neither did I," Harry responded. "There's so much I'll never know about her..."
The two boys looked at each other.
"Come," Draco whispered. He led Harry to the bed they shared, and they laid down facing each other, the white wand resting between their tired bodies...
The hours passed and later that evening, after drifting in unpleasant dreams where Elisha kept calling out to him, Harry went down to the kitchens with Draco. He was startled to find the room full with members of the Order. Harry was even more startled to see a look of terror on Ron's face. Everyone in the room turned to the door where Harry stood.
"What happened?" Harry asked sharply, walking toward his friend. Hermione had her arm around Ron's shoulder. It was clear the both of them had been crying. Harry looked desperately at Hermione for an answer, but nothing came.
Lupin spoke up, his face lined and exhausted.
"The Order just received terrible news," the man whispered. He was standing in a corner with Snape flanking him. "News about Ron's family."
Harry felt his heart skip a beat.
"It's--it's my parents," Ron whispered finally, his eyes bulging in fear. Hermione's hands were now twisting in her lap.
"What happened?" Harry said.
"They've been... kidnapped."
"What--"
"You-Know-Who took them, Harry... we--I can't just stay here anymore and wait for everyone on the outside to die," Ron choked; Harry was horrified at the news, even more horrified to see Ron crying again. In all the years he had known him, he had not seen Ron cry once. "I can't... I need to protect my family."
Harry felt Draco shift next to him, a look of horror on his pale face. Harry glanced around the room wildly.
"What are we going to do?" Harry said, stepping forward. He felt a sudden warmness within his robes, where he had hidden the white wand. The warmness spread through his chest, filling him with a vague sense of bravery.
"Ron's right," Snape whispered, moving from Lupin. He too looked worn down. "We all have to do something, and we have to do it soon. Voldemort is growing bolder and bolder as the days go by."
"Ron's parents aren't the only ones missing either," Dumbledore said. Harry jumped at the old man's voice, not having realized he was also in the room. The two stared at each other, an urgency in Dumbledore's blue gaze. "Countless others have been kidnapped and killed. Harry, it is imperitive that you understand exactly what Elisha left for you... We must all do this quickly. We need to form a plan--"
Harry felt the warmth in his chest suddenly disappear. He didn't realize he had paled considerably. The pressue on him to say something encouraging, to do something spectacular suddenly overwhelmed him.
"I--I need to be alone," he said automatically.
He recoiled at the angry looks being thrown at him, Snape's look in particular, burning, burning as if wanting to shake him and scream.
Draco tried in vain to grab him as he went but Harry shook him off, bolting from the kitchen, Ron's terrified face plastered in his mind. Harry stumbled up the staircases, ignoring a vase he knocked over in the process. The glass shattered, prompting the screeches of Sirius' mother's portrait to split the silence of the house. He didn't care. Every part of him was thrumming with fear.
Without realizing it, Harry found his way back into the empty isolated room, locking the door with trembling hands. He removed the white wand from his robes, staring at it.
What am I supposed to do?
He thought of the Weasleys, possibly dead or being tortured somewhere.
Harry's mind flashed to the countless, faceless people who were likely killed or held captive by Voldemort because the boy was too caught up in his emotions. Harry was repulsed by his own weakness. Horrible images flooded his brain; detached limbs, children screaming, faceless women being raped and tortured, the cries of their partners echoing in desperation...
Harry knew he had to fight, he knew today was the day he had to leave the shelter of Grimmauld Place and find Voldemort. Ron's pain was the catalyst. He knew he had to trust what Elisha had done for him, giving him her powers, somehow passing to him the beautiful white wand that once belonged to their mother...
And yet...
I can't do this, he thought, terror trembling through him.
The moment the thought left him, the room around him warped, evaporating completely. Harry yelped in surprise, stumbling backward as another one of Elisha's memories forced its way into his mind. There was sudden blazing light coming from a lamp overhead; Harry looked around wildly, his eyes adjusting to the light; he was in a bright space, a massive, cavernous room with beige walls, no doors or windows. He had never seen this room before.
He spun around looking back and forth, trying to find an exit. The room was empty until--
He turned again.
Elisha was standing a few feet from him. Her long hair was flying around her as though a breeze ruffled it. Harry froze at the look of rage on her face, her eyes alight with the malice Harry had only seen the night she dueled to save Draco's life. Harry felt terror as he had never felt it before, stinging him. The white wand was trembling in Harry's hand, pointed uselessly at the ground.
He tried to open his mouth to say something to her but he had no time to process words. In a flash, Elisha pulled her own wand from her robes and pointed it straight at Harry's face.
Harry yelled and ducked as she shot a spell right at him. His response was automatic, and for a moment he thought he couldn't be harmed... this was a memory after all, but that brief comfort was wiped away completely; he glanced up behind him and saw the wall had been blown apart.
He spun back around to face her and his heart skipped painful beats. She raised her wand again, looking crazed, her long hair about her face. She screamed an incomprehensible spell. Harry ducked again and ran sideways, fumbling with the white wand until he held it properly all the while trying to shield his face. He pointed it at her but couldn't move from terror--
Elisha had no mercy. Without words, she shot another spell at him; Harry moved on instinct this time, conjuring a shield charm. But it was weak and feeble. Elisha's spell slammed him backwards. His breath left him as he crumpled on the floor, looking up at her in horror. She was standing right above him, mania glinting in her eyes, a sadistic smile on her face. How can we be related? he thought wildly. He could never imagine his mother losing control like this, wanting to cause harm--
"You don't think you can do this? After everything I just showed you?" she whispered; her voice caused Harry to shudder and he shuffled backward helplessly, like an animal cornered by a tiger. He half expected her to maul him. "You don't think you can win against Voldemort?"
"I-I don't--"
"Get up," she snarled, turning her back to him as she walked away, her hair whipping behind her. She removed her robes as she went. They dropped to the ground. She turned to face him again, wearing dark pants and a dark shirt. She rolled her sleeves up and with a jolt, Harry saw the Dark Mark burned into her left forearm.
"I said get up!" she screamed, her eyes popping.
Trembling from head to foot, Harry rose, his wand pointed reluctantly at her. His mind was oddly blank.
"We will continue to duel," she snarled, now pacing around him like a lioness.
Harry shifted away from her, wanting nothing more then to cry out for help, help from anyone. He thought of Draco, still in the kitchen downstairs, probably stunned at Harry's disappearance. Inexplicably, he thought Snape, the glowering look he remembered from Snape's eyes. Snape's loathing look was barely comparable to Elisha's rage.
"We will not stop dueling until you hit me with a spell," she snarled.
"What?!"
Harry had never been so scared in his life, not even when facing Voldemort or certain death at the hands of others. Elisha was impossible to beat; she had put Dumbledore in a coma and the only reason Voldemort was able to kill her was because she chose to die. What chance did he have against someone like her, someone who seemed to only have murder on her mind even if she had passed her powers to him?
Without warning, she shot another spell at him.
Harry ran again, bolting like a frightened animal. He had felt the spell brush his shoulder. He wailed; his skin felt like it was on fire, piercing, prickling pain numbing him down the marrow. She shot another spell at him, sprinting after him and suddenly he felt his knees give way. He went skidding, chest first down the sleekly tiled floor. He could feel his muscles cramping, his skin being pulled beneath his shirt. He cut his lip. Blood was now pouring from his mouth. He could hear her laughing, a high, cold laugh that reminded Harry of Voldemort. The boy spun around and felt a sudden surge of anger. Her head was thrown back in her mirth.
"Fuck you!" he yelled and without realizing what he was doing, launched a nonverbal spell right back at her. Her eyes widened in shock for a moment but she shielded herself with absurd ease. She stopped laughing.
"Good," she whispered, walking towards him with cruel purpose. Harry rose shakily to his feet; he had never felt such anger in his life; he could feel it bubbling from the pit of his stomach, enrapturing his heart, his bones, his brain. He wiped the blood from his mouth.
How dare she laugh at him. How dare she torture him like this even after her death.
"Hit me," she said.
Harry didn't need another prompting. He wielded the white wand like a sword, feeling a wild burn wrap around his fingers. He hurled a spell at her, not fully conscious of what it was, as he sprinted toward her. She moved backward with incredible speed, flicking the spell away with a tiny flick of her wrist; her eyes were narrowed as he shot spell after spell at her, screaming forth incantations he never knew existed, feeling an ancient and dangerous power boiling within him, now coming under his control -- this was Elisha's power, roaming in him. He was finally harnessing it.
The duel continued unabated as the siblings tried to land spells on each other. The walls were blasted apart, the lamp above shaking under dust and debris. Their yells echoed throughout the hall, magnified hundreds of times, their voices bent into grotesque wails. Elisha was successful in catching Harry off guard time after time. He felt himself lifted off his feet, as though a giant held him tight in its fist. He could feel the breath being squeezed from him, and for a moment, his mind went blank, until he saw her vicious smile. He forced his wand hand up and shouted a disarming spell at her. The spell missed her narrowly. Harry fell to the floor.
He shot up instantly.
"Expelliarmus!" he screamed, his voice cracking.
The spell nearly contact with Elisha.
She screamed in rage and shot another spell at Harry. Harry felt the terror return as thick black smoke tried to engulf him. He turned and ran quickly, his brain reeling. He pointed the wand over his shoulder and screamed another disarming spell. The jet of light from Harry's wand came into contact with the black smoke and it exploded behind him. Harry dodged debris that came flying at him.
He whipped around again, to find Elisha untouched, stepping over the rubble.
"DAMN IT!" Harry screamed, his rage rising. He was going to hit her.
They shouted spells at each other at the exact same moment, the light colliding midair. Then there was a split second where Elisha did not move--
He pointed his mother's wand, aiming at Elisha's chest, and felt the ancient power thrumming within him again. Hurt her, it demanded.
The violent spell left his wand before he realized what he had done. The spell slammed Elisha directly in the chest and she went flying backwards, shrieking in pain. She hit the floor with a loud crash. Even from afar, Harry could see blood pooling around her body.
"No!" he screamed as he came to his senses but he stood rooted to the spot. His legs seemed to have forgotten how to move. He was stunned that he had actually managed to hit her.
In the distance, Elisha sat up slowly, dazed. Her wand had been knocked out of her hand and lay feet away from her. She snapped her fingers and it went flying back into her palm. She got up, nearly falling back down in the process, great slash marks over her shirt, her chest and arms covered in crisp red blood.
"Good," she murmured, spitting blood as she said it. "You hit me."
Harry dropped his own wand as he ran toward her. He couldn't believe this was a memory. He stumbled over the pile of rubble, feeling it cut into his knees and ankles. Elisha watched him, sullen but smiling.
"How the hell did we just do that?" he asked, his voice shaking as much as his body. "What...what are you doing to me?"
She didn't answer.
"TELL ME!" Harry screamed and lurching forward he grabbed her. He was shocked to find that his hands clutched around her shoulders. She glanced up at him, tired.
"I knew you would have your doubts, no matter what I did to show you your capabilities. I had to teach you how to duel with confidence," she said, not bothering to take Harry's hands off her ghostly form. "If you were able to successfully attack me, you will be able to attack Voldemort."
She suddenly pushed him backward, but he did not fall.
"Again," she said.
Harry didn't have time to react; he was slashed across the face with her nonverbal spell. He felt more blood. He crawled on the floor, desperately trying to reach his wand. He saw the whiteness glinting near a crater where the tiled floor had been blasted apart. He managed to close his hand around it but he froze and glanced up slowly.
Elisha was over him, her wand pointing straight at his heart.
"Now if I were Voldemort," she said in a matter-of-fact manner, as though she were talking about the weather, "this is the part where I'd kill you."
Harry sputtered stupidly and she punched him across the face. Harry was too stunned to speak.
"How could you drop your wand? How amateur are you, Harry? This is pathetic," she spat, flexing her fist as Harry rubbed his cheek. "Perhaps I made a mistake in dying for you."
Harry couldn't believe what he had just heard. Abandoning all pretense, he bolted upward, forgetting that he could do magic and tackled her to the ground. They rolled around, screaming and throwing blows at each other. He pinned her to the ground and smacked her across the face. There was no reaction from her for a moment.
Then she smiled sadly.
"Prove me wrong Harry," she whispered and Harry noticed her voice was drifting away. Her body was becoming less solid, smoke-like again.
"No!" Harry screamed, his eyes popping. "No, don't you dare leave like this!"
But she did. As suddenly as the memory had come, it had left and Harry found himself lying facedown on the floor in the dim bedroom. The room showed no sign of harm but Harry did. He coughed up blood and saw the cuts and bruises littering his body, his torn garments, his body covered in cold sweat.
He cursed Elisha wildly as he sat up. He felt dizzy and weak, confused and angry. He wanted to cry but couldn't muster the strength. He closed his eyes and collapsed back down to the floor, clutching the white wand like a talisman. His mind drifted into an uneven world. He wasn't sure if this was a dream or another memory.
He seemed to be floating down a corridor. It was dark, nearly black. He wasn't sure how he could see ahead of him. There was a door at the end of the hallway, ajar with its light spilling through. He heard a woman's screaming, as if she were being tortured.
I have to help her, Harry thought, his brain lethargic. He floated forward, his ghost white hand pushing the door open. He was met with a small room, tight with people.
And there he was, the man who had terrorized him since his infancy. Voldemort standing over yet another victim, a woman Harry recognized instantly by her flaming red hair. Mrs. Weasley. Death Eaters surrounded her, masked and laughing, cold and cruel, mixing with Voldemort's own glee. Mr. Weasley's voice carried through the ringing mirth, begging for mercy.
Voldemort paid him no heed. He pointed his wand at the sputtering woman, laughing--
The scene changed with abruptness. Harry did not have time to register his emotions.
People were running, screaming. There were blasts everywhere, disrupting the day in confusing madness. Harry shielded his eyes from the countless jets of light breaking through the air. Screaming, so much screaming--
He was thrown into another scene. Piles and piles of mangled bodies. Children. Elisha stood next to Harry, appearing suddenly. She was not injured. She was thumbing her wand. She looked forward at the bodies of children strewn about the streets. She didn't look at Harry as she spoke.
"This is why I was hard on you," she said quietly. "Look at those little ones. They have no chance at life because of Voldemort."
Harry did not respond. He turned his gaze away from the blank look in the eyes of a dead child, her tiny body cut viciously, clothes ripped from her. Her death, so undignified and dirty.
"So this is all real? This is all happening?" he whispered after taking a moment to collect himself.
"Yes. It's happening as we speak... Will you sit around and wallow in your misery?" she asked him.
Harry turned his face from her.
"Let me out of this," Harry snarled. "Whatever this is."
She obliged him; Harry found himself, back, yet again in Grimmauld Place. He stood shaking from the ground, fighting the urge to vomit. He stumbled to the door and wrenched it open. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward into the foyer, knowing exactly what he had to do.
TBC
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Endurance