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Dragon Noir	By : agelessdrake Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1949 -:- 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
- 3
- 4
- 5
"Scar tissue that I wish you saw
Sarcastic Mister Know-it-all
Close your eyes and I'll kiss you 'cause
With the birds I share..."
~Scar Tissue, Red Hot Chili Peppers

Chapter Three~
"Is it supposed to be hard?"
Blaise looked over at Draco from where he sat. They'd taken refugee in one of the towers - Blaise didn't even know which one - to escape the murmurs and stares being cast their way by the other Slytherins. The blond was seated on a window seat, staring out over the grounds, darkened by intermittent shadows and moonlight.
"Is what supposed to be hard?" Draco groaned deep in his throat, as though he didn't know how to express himself, and made a gesture randomly.
"Being all... I don't know, high and mighty!" he finally got out. Blaise raised a brow at the response, and nibbled his lip, moving slightly closer to Draco, until he was finally beneath him, his back to the blond, next to the leg he had cast down from his perch. "What're you doing down there?"
"Sitting, Draco. Amazingly, some of us like to be closer to people when we're talking." He rolled his eyes when he heard the blond scoff, and coughed a moment, before he continued speaking. "And who, might I ask, is so 'high and mighty', if we're going to talk about it being supposedly hard."
"Damn Gyffindors," Draco mumbled. Blaise hummed over that as though it were a real answer.
"So we're talking about Potter being a goody-two-shoes, then?" Draco stood, making a swing for the dark haired Slytherin's head. Blaise moved carefully out of the way, leaning back so he had a good angle to look at Draco at. "That's it, isn't it?"
"No," Draco savagely hissed. "Bloody hell, I don't even want to THINK about the wanker... Git."
"Me thinkth Draco's dealing with suppressed sexual urges..." Blaise muttered in a singsong voice. Draco made another swipe for his head; he rolled away, grinning like a fiend. "That's it, isn't it? You like the Golden Boy of Gyffindor!"
"I do not!" Draco barked, drawing his wand. Blaise raised his hands, chuckling. The blond scowled, his breath a little hurried, and turned away from the other boy, crossing his arms.
There was silence a moment, before he heard Blaise stand, and walk towards him, placing his hands on his shoulders. Draco cringed internally; they still ached some days, if he'd been moving them too much. Blaise squeezed gently, and chuckled again.
"Calm down, Dray. Come on now; breathe in, breathe out..." Draco made a big show of breathing quickly through his nose until Blaise smacked him on the ear. "Don't hyperventilate, you smarmy git. I don't highly fancy doing mouth-to-mouth."
Draco looked over his shoulder at Blaise, furrowing his brow, watching him. Blaise was smiling slightly, but it faded almost instantly at the calculating look on the other teen's face. He pulled back, removing his hands and ducking his head; Draco seethed a little.
"Why do you do that?" he demanded. Blaise raised his head, looking genuinely, cutely confused. Draco shook his head. "When you're trying to not offend someone, you always bow and hold your hands up. Why do you do that? It makes you look like some sort of... servant or... something. Kinda like a rent-boy."
Blaise thought about it a moment, than sighed and shrugged slightly. He moved past Draco, and took the seat he'd left by the window, pressing his feet against the sill. Draco slid in behind him, mimicking his act; they pushed slightly against each other, staring out into the night.
"So... It's supposedly hard being a goody-goody?" Blaise muttered suddenly, turning his head and looking at Draco's reflection out of the corner of his eye. Draco snorked slightly and rolled his eyes, shaking his head.
"No, it's supposedly hard to do the right thing all... the bloody... time." He stressed his words comically; Blaise laughed, smiling slightly. Draco smiled back a little, rolling his neck carefully, trying not to hit Blaise, now that the other boy had left alone the earlier needling. "I mean, it's not that I'm insulting the right thing, per say. 'Right things' are good... But do they have to make everything a moral choice?"
"They're Gryffindors," Blaise offered by way of explanation. Draco shook his head, rolling his eyes with a scoff. "Well, at least they're not doing the whole 'everything must make perfect, logical, absolutely proven sense, all the bloody time'." Both Slytherin boys shuddered.
"Unless you're that Mudblood, Granger. How on EARTH did she get to be a Gyffindor! Aren't they supposed to be... I don't know, brave or something."
"The same could be said for the Weasel," Blaise put in. Draco chuckled slightly, a mildly cynical sound. "But... I suppose the Mudblood's got a little bit or courage in her."
"What?"
"She'd need it to stick up to you..." Draco could almost hear the snort in Blaise's voice, and sent his elbow back to collide with the other boy's back. Blaise grunted, shifting a little in the discomfort of Draco's bony elbow hitting his ribs, and turned to glare at him. "That was uncalled for."
"So don't call me a ninny."
"I didn't!"
"You were thinking it. I could hear you, all the way over here¹!" Blaise stared at Draco a moment, trying not to laugh; he snorted, his eye twitched, and he broke down, tumbling off the seat to hit the floor in crows of laughter. "Oh, shut up..." Draco crossed his arms stubbornly over his chest.
~~~
Harry flipped through the book one last time. He promised himself it would be the last time, because it HAD to be. He'd looked through the book so many times now, but he still couldn't find it?
"'arry?"
The dark haired Seeker flinched at the soft voice, and whirled around. Colin Creevy stood on the third to last step to the common room, rubbing his eyes, squinting at him in bewilderment as he approached him.
"'arry... Wha'chu doin' up?" the young teen asked, stifling a yawn. Harry chuckled a little, closing his book for the moment.
"I might ask the same thing, Colin. You look like the devil stole your bicycle." Colin snorted slightly and shook his head, rubbing his eyes again and sitting across from his 'idol'; though the boy had calmed exponentially over the years, he was still a bit of a firecracker, and a noisy one, too, when he got his hands on something that he could easily use on someone else. Harry sometimes wondered if he'd be more suited as a Slytherin.
"Couldn't sleep," Colin admitted, lounging in his chair and sinking down a little. He surveyed the book in Harry's hands, then looked back up at his face. "You?"
"Looking for something. Can't find it though." He gestured to the other books he'd looked through, and Colin sat up a little, reading through the titles. He chuckled after a moment, cast Harry a glance.
"Divinations?"
"I'm looking for something on Clairaudience." Colin furrowed his brow, worrying his lip, and shrugged.
"What's it for?"
"Well..." Harry sighed, deeply. He was more tired than he'd thought. "Clairaudience is being able to hear things that you wouldn't normally. The new DADA professor -."
"I like her," Colin stated tiredly. "She's pretty. Kinda reminds me of Looney Lovegood, though."
"Right... Anyway, Professor Luc gave me a Clairaudience orb, but she won't tell me what it's for, only that I'll need it, that it will help... 'him', whoever that is." Colin sat up a little, furrowing her brow.
"Maybe she works for... You-Know-Who," he suggested. Harry shook his head slowly, and reached into his pocket, pulling out a length of black leather and a gold ring with rubies and what looked to be a lion head.
"She said Dumbledore told her to give this to me. And she told me she's working with Dumbledore against Volde-... Yeah. She's not working for him, unless she's spying on him somehow."
"She's too memorable to do that," Colin pointed out, and took the strip and ring, inspecting them both. "It's a pretty ring."
"It's supposed to tell the teachers when I'm being attacked, and tell me when somebody else with a similar ring is." Colin snorked tiredly, and looked over at Harry with blurry eyes.
"How's it supposed to tell you something?" He straightened a little, lowering his voice to booming, deep whisper. "Harry! People are being beaten up! DO something!" Harry shook his head with a chuckle and took the ring back, tucking it away.
"I don't even know who else has a ring, so..." He trailed off and sighed, lifting his glasses and rubbing his eyes. "This is getting me nowhere. We should probably go to bed; we've got classes tomorrow, after all."
~~~
Harry strode quietly out of Divinations, muttering to himself. He knew he should have followed Ron and Hermione and left the class, but some little part of him told him to stay there; Trelawny had had three premonitions that he knew of, two of which while he'd been at school, the last being the Prophecy. For all he knew, she might have another, one that could help swing the direction of the war.
But now, it was lunch. He tucked his last book into his satchel and strode down from the tower, muttering under his breath. He really wasn't that hungry. Just tired. Even after convincing Colin to go to bed at the same time as him, Harry had stayed up, reading what he could from his books, new and old, anything he could put his hands on that might have to do with Clairaudience or the orb that he had tucked under his pillows.
The upside to having it there was that he hadn't had a single nightmare since he'd gotten to school. The downside was he was becoming increasingly edgy; it was like he was some sort of addict, like when he was away from the orb, he was like a stoner without his fix.
Maybe THAT was why he was so tired, and therefore did not see Draco Malfoy striding towards him until the last second, when they collided in a heap of limbs, robes, books, ink and parchment.
Harry began to apologize, until he saw who it was he was talking to. Malfoy scowled at him, picking up his things and tucking them away into his pack with a deliberately haughty air. Harry shook his head, rolling his eyes, and picked up his own things.
"You should watch where you're going," Harry growled under his breath, not even entirely sure he'd said it aloud. But there was no mistaking the reply.
"Maybe you should, Potter."
"What?" He whirled about. Malfoy lifted his lip in a sneer, surveying Harry slowly, as though he were mad.
"I didn't say anything," he stated blandly, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear and tugging on a thin silver chain about his neck. Harry rolled his eyes again, scoffing and glaring at the blond.
"I just heard you." Malfoy blinked a moment, than shook his head, grabbing his things.
"Get your head checked out, Potter," he bit as he walked past. Harry stayed there, squatting on the floor with his things, as he let it sink in.
And suddenly, he realized something.
That urge for his 'fix' had gotten stronger.
~~~
"Rhys, may I speak with you?"
Sylvana turned at the cultured tone directed at her, and rubbed the side of her temple. The voices around her - but truly spoken and not - were beginning to tear at her, whittling away her defenses and already short temper.
Lucius Malfoy inclined his head towards an alcove off to the side. Sylvana hadn't questioned when the call had come and they'd all apperated to the Malfoy Manor, but it still struck her as odd, to pull her out to a secluded corner with his wife in the next room.
"I suppose you think it's all very clever and fun, don't you?" Lucius began. Sylvana raised one finely crafted flaxen brow, crossing her arms.
"I'm not in a mood to play mind games, Lucius," she muttered offhandedly. "Mind telling me why you're accosting me?"
"A young woman, appears out of nowhere, sporting the eyes of the enemy, speaking of him by name before our Lord -."
"Are you insinuating that I am disloyal to Lord Voldemort, Lucius?" The blond man cringed at the use of the name. Sylvana scoffed. "You're pitiful, Lucius. Cannot even bring yourself to say his name; it's such a simple little thing. You mustn't fear a name, Malfoy; for fear only makes it stronger."
"I am not afraid, let us get that out of the way, Rhys. But you speak as though this is some passing courtyard fancy. I can see it, in those god damn eyes of yours; you're waiting for a slip up, an excuse to get awayore ore you can be accused of anything."
Lucius made a grab for Sylvana's arm, only to have it wrenched away. Sharp green eyes narrowed, and she huffed slightly, turning her nose up at him.
"You know nothing, Lucius Malfoy. Kindly keep your insinuations and presumptions to yourself." She moved carefully around him, bumping his shoulder, and strode back to where the other Death Eaters were, trying to block out all but the voices she wanted to hear.
And at this point, the only voice she wanted to hear was just out of her range. She sighed, slipping past Severus.
"I need you to watch my back," she muttered offhandedly, leaning against the wall beside him. A few feet off, Bellatrix Lestrange bantered with Peter Pettigrew, no doubt plotting some devious, awful thing. The once beautiful one had a large scar down the side of her face now, and walked with an obvious limp, tributes to her failure to her lord.
"What do you need me for?" Severus whispered back, staring down at his hands, watching the house elves moving about, between the legs of the dark wizards.
"I need to Listen to Malfoy," she explained simply. "There's something not right with this, and I need to know what it is."
"Now?" The dark haired man's voice took on a slightly hysterical edge. Sylvana grabbed his hand and smirked. "I-."
"Nobody will notice... if I'm gone," she stated, halting him. Severus bit his lip, looking around. A few of the other Death Eaters were looking their way now, talking to each other as they cast glances to them. "Please, Severus. I need to do this. For -."
"Alright," Severus snapped softly, squeezing her hand. "But not too long. I won't be able to cover for you too long."
"Thanks, love." She pecked a kiss to his cheek and rushed out of the room, just as Bellatrix was making her way towards Severus.
The next room was blessedly empty, and Sylvana sighed, sinking against the door. Slowly, she dimmed out the burble of physical conversation beyond the door, then, she whispered through the mental voices oeryberybody in attendance, until only two remained; it wasn't so much as she was prodding, but she could hear those two surface voices. And from there, she could hear their real voices.
A wheezing hiss filled her ears, and between one heartbeat and the next, Sylvana could see the hall where Lucius had waylaid her. Now, thrmalrmally stoic blond shivered before their lord.
"Is she right, Lucius?" The hissing was almost insufferably cruel to Sylvana's ears. "What is that you fear?"
"I fear nothing, my Lord."
"You say that... But I see different. I see your mind, Lucius, and the things that plague you. What do you fear, Lucius?"
"I... I..."
"Do you fear me?" Sylvana almost snorted, but knew it would ruin her trance. The vision and voices faded a moment, but she quickly regained them; obviously, Lucius's answer to the last question had not been one Voldemort had been looking for.
"Tell me what you fear..."
"I fear... the boy. I fear he will be stronger than me, that he will turn, join with that FOOL Dumbledore, that wretched half-blood Potter." Lucius spat the last word, wringing his hands slowly. Voldemort hissed slightly, a sickly smile breaching his face.
"So why not do away with the child...?"
Sylvana's eyes snapped open. She didn't need to hear anymore, didn't want to. But she forced herself to, breft of the vision but not the stilted voices. Than, very slowly, she lost her link to their minds and voices, and let the burble return to her, and exited the side room slowly. Bellatrix had just left Severus's side as she approached it.
"I think... we have a problem..."
~~~
Draco read through the note again, and than again, trying to make the graceful cursive of his mother's hand sink in as more than a decorative accent, and was the actual words on the parchment.
It had started pleasantly enough, the sprawling letters spelling out gentle, caring words that were clearly her own. His mothad nad never doted on him, so to speak, but she'd always been more gentle than his father, there in a cold, distant way if he had a nightmare or was simply trying to escape his father. She had understood.
But, by the third page - it was customary for Narcissa to write long letters to her son - it had turned hurtful, hysterical and sociopathic. As if someone was dictating what was to be written. Like his father was, or like she'd been having one of her angry rants with her sister, and was now taking it out on him.
And by the fifth page, for this was an exceptionally long piece of drawling formality, it was pure out insanity turned to pen and paper. Draco stared at it blindly, trying to will the words back to their nearly caring litany of the early pages.
But the words did not change, and stayed angry and cruel before him, glaring at him like a poisonous snake ready to strike.
He'd never wanted to cry this much over a letter since he was six and his best friend informed him that he couldn't spend time with him, but never told him why. Draco knew why; it was because his father had walked into his room to find them sprawled on the bed, hng hng hands and giggling, blushing madly because his friend had kissed him.
And now, he wanted to cry again, more than when he was six, more than all the times he'd stifled all the tears when he'd been beaten, both physically and mentally and in games. He let the papers slip from his fingers, and stood in a daze, wandering out of the empty common room.
Suddenly, the dark sadness that had enveloped him left, and was replaced by blind, red-hot rage. They had betrayed him! His own parents, his creators! And now, they wanted him back, not as a good son as they had during the first few years at Hogwarts, but as a prisoner in his own home, no doubt back in the dungeons to deal with pulled, torn muscles once more.
He snatched the letter up, crumpled it in his fist, and turned abruptly as he thought he heard something.
Across the room, he caught his reflection. His eyes, so normally filled with a sparkle of disdain for those around him, were now dead, brimmed with tears that he knew wouldn't fall - because Malfoy's didn't cry, and Draco hated tears as much as he hated blood. Blood that was welling where his fingernails dug into his palms where he clenched his fists in pure anger. Blond hair, once so pristine and slicked, was now loosed about his head, hanging in graceful sweeps about his lean face.
He collapsed to his knees suddenly, loosening his grip forcefully. I will not cry, he vowed silently to himself. Because Malfoy's do not cry; they may not want me to be a Malfoy, anymore, but I still am.
~~~
Dumbledore looked across at the members of the Order, steepling his fingers and tapping them against the bridge of his nose. Tonks was worrying her lip on the edge of his desk, tugging on a lock of hair - the entire mass changed from pink to green to blue to black and back into a loop.
Iphigenia sat before him, her hair still the radiant blond of Sylvana, but her eyes returned to their nearly black tone. Severus stood behind her shoulder, taking the brunt of the glances being shot his way by some of the more skeptical of members.
"I say we let Malfoy kill the boy," Kingsley Shacklebolt suddenly uttered, striding away from his spot behind Dumbledore's desk and approaching Remus, who stood beside Tonks, staring at his scarred hands. "We've dealt with enough bad blood from that family tst ust us a life time. And the sooner we get rid of the last of the Blacks, the better off we'll be - Sorry, Lupin."
Iphigenia looked over to gauge the young werewolf's reaction to Kingsley's brash idea. The brunette man had in fact cringed, rather harshly at the words. Tonks, who'd left her hair on blue for a time, laid a hand on her friend's arm.
"We can't kill him off," Severus observed. Kingsley rais bro brow, leaning back and sneering a little at the Potions Master.
"And why the hell not?" he demanded, glaring at the sallow man. Severus lowered his gaze to Iphigenia, who had tugged on her ear lobe, reverting her slick flaxen hair to her natural sloe.
"The Malfoy boy is our leverage at this point, Kingsley."
"How do you figure?" Iphigenia rolled her eyes extravagantly. Tonks chuckled a little, crossing her legs; she tapped the side of her nose, changing her eye color with a sq.
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Dragon Noir