Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Awakening To the Dream	By : ChimaeraChan Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 45317 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
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
- 1-CH1
- 2-CH2
- 3-CH3
- 4-CH4
- 5-CH5
- 6-CH6
- 7-CH7
- 8-Ch8
- 9-Ch9
- 10-Ch10
- 11-CH11
- 12-CH12
- 13-CH13
- 14-CH14
- 15-CH15
- 16-CH16
- 17-CH17
- 18-CH18
- 19-Ch19
- 20-CH20
- 21-CH21
- 22-Ch22
- 23-CH23
- 24-CH24
- 25-CH25
- 26-CH26
- 27-CH27
- 28-CH28
- 29-CH29
- 30-CH30
- 31-CH31
- 32-CH32
- 33-CH33
- 34-CH34
- 35-CH35
- 36-CH36
- 37-CH37
- 38-CH38
- 39-CH39
- 40-CH40
- 41-Ch41
- 42-Ch42
- 43-Ch43
- 44-Ch44
- 45-Ch45
- 46-Ch46
- 47-Ch47
- 48-Ch48
- 49-Ch49
- 50-Ch50 *End Part 1*
- 51-Ch51
- 52-Ch52
- 53-Ch53
- 54-Ch54
- 55-Ch55
- 56-CH56
- 57-CH57
- 58-CH58
- 59-CH59
- 60-CH60
- 61-CH61
- 62-CH62
- 63-CH63
- 64-CH64
- 65-CH65
- 66-CH66
- 67-CH67 *New 6/6/2015*
- 68-CH68
- 69-CH69
- 39
- 40
- 41
‘Kay, sorry for the wait but the new chapters I’m writing are longer than before so I hope it’ll make up for it. And don’t worry, it’s Draco’s point of view in the next one—and you get to find out about the snitch. ^^ I realize Loxton immediately came out as a bad guy and Lesley as good but Harry’s very unstable and biased and it’ll take him a while to see things clearly—not that Loxton isn’t a bad guy and Lesley good! I’m just saying Harry’s big on emotions right now. I do like to write in chunks of around fifty or so pages before I can even feel slightly comfortable with posting so that’s why it’s taking so long. (I still feel like I posted this too early >_< but I couldn’t leave you all hanging.) I need to have everything in context before I can be certain it’s going to work… but I’ve been on a little drawing kick too sos that could be to blame as well. ^^;; I colored that HarryxDraco pic if you’d like to see. http://www.deviantart.com/view/27151416/
I’m trying the Mailing List today! (hope it works ^^;;;;;;)Jacy_Arienh_Sagira: The collar on Draco’s neck has cut the connection their bite bond made. As for seeing the bite, the boy’s have the ability to heal faster than normal (but, the bite had stopped being visible when Harry was at Privet Dr. anyways)
kaka-she: If the rock will fit, you’re more than welcome to bring it. XD
Hazel: Actually, Narcissa is with the Unvoiced, a long way off from White Towers I’m afraid.
Silvrfire: Thank you, really. I remember when I was that age and I just couldn’t see them being childish when so much responsibility was being piled up. You know, they can either adapt and deal, or continue hiding behind the security of childhood… not that Harry ever had a childhood. >_<
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

CH40

Dinner was as bad as Harry had known it would be. A feast at Hogwarts would have been a relief to the stiff, superficial atmosphere in the cavernous Hall. Yes, cavernous; the Hall could have fit the Chamber of Secrets plus have room for a couple of classrooms. It had taken him, no exaggeration, over two minutes to walk to the long table located in the middle of the room. Seated at the table, he had to deal with the hundreds of ardent stares and pretend that a third of them weren’t even completely terrified. The others, the ones that hadn’t met him earlier, were quite intent on him. For the first time, he was glad that his new power came off just intimidating enough to keep them from actually talking to him.
At least the robes weren’t as horrible as he had assumed. An ambitious designer had asked to see his eyes and made the robes to match. The inner robe was black as pitch with a silky sheen that picked up the embroidery covering the material in the same shade of black. The outer robe was green, patterned with deeper shades of the same color in vague shapes of vines and leaves, and trimmed with gold embroidery at every edge. The sleeves were cut to allow movement without knocking everything over and, although the hem trailed along the ground, the fabric was cut to prevent him from falling on his face. Slits, invisible to the unknowing eye, could be found on his back to keep his wings from tearing the expensive fabric. The whole ensemble was of a quality that Draco would have hexed for. He was just relieved it wasn’t itchy.
Nausea was clenching firmly at his stomach as each minute of vapid conversation ticked by. It had happened to him enough to recognize the signs of magical corruption. His body was stronger now, so the effects were dulled. But he knew if he weren’t free from all the foreign power within the next few hours, he would have a problem. For now he feigned interest in whatever Lesley was saying. Whatever it took to keep Loxton from deciding to see an opening to play host again. The Chancellor had been quick to get over his anger and had gone back to trying to find ways to bend Harry to his will.
Spirits were high at the table and his cousin was seeing to it that they stayed that way. Harry watched with a small smile as Lesley, face animated to almost the point of exaggeration, continued his story. “…So, there was Flynt, hand stuck in her skirts, and his wife glaring from the door with her wand pointed at his face. The problem was that he couldn’t let go without sending the poor girl falling.”
“Oh, my.” Miss Delacrux whispered in mock horror. “Whatever did he do?”
Lesley wagged his brows and smiled charmingly. “Why he dropped her, of course. Right on her little bum, and then he ducked for cover.”
“How awful.” Miss Salvador’s eyes widened, revealing sparkling blue and nothing more.
“Indeed.” Christien cut in with a snort, oblivious to the way the girls turned their adoring gazes from Lesley to him with the same fervor. “A blast to his ass was less than the bastard deserved.”
“Christien! You would dare condemn a man for seeking solace when he was tied to such a—”
“A what, Lesley? A wife? If he had lost interest he should have used the appropriate legal channels.”
Lesley gave a dramatic sigh. “But he hadn’t lost interest. It was but a crime of love to incite his true heart’s passion’s once again.”
“I don’t think putrid boils preventing him from coupling is what he had in mind, if that was the case.” Christien said, hiding his smile behind his wine glass as those listening tittered. “Besides, the only love Flynt had was for his wife’s money.”
“Blasphemy! To think our dear, romantic Flynt would ever marry for something so cold. You wound his reputation and my very heart for hearing such lies.”
Christen held his expression in check for little less than ten seconds before he burst out laughing, the others in hearing distance joining in.
All right, maybe the whole thing wasn’t so bad after all. His head hurt, but Lesley was determined to keep conversation cheerful. Good man, that Lesley.
“Wouldn’t you agree, Harry?” As if sensing his thoughts, Lesley had turned inquiringly to Harry, all other eyes following.
The man was a vindictive bastard. Harry took a deep breath and raised his eyes from the food he had chosen not to risk eating, and not just because of his ill stomach. Why did they insist on staring so? If he didn’t know better he’d say they were eyeing him like his peers eyed a new Firebolt. Shrugging the absurdity away, he sent Lesley a less than patient smile. “And what would that be, cousin?”
“Do you imagine you could ever marry for anything besides love? As a man of your many obviously appealing qualities, I’m sure there are those at the table that are quite interested to know.” Loxton smiled wickedly but, since Harry was seated at the head of the table and his cousin beside him, only he saw it.
Sighing, he resisted the urge to discreetly sit under the table. He was sixteen; hardly a man, never mind in the market for marriage. “I really can’t imagine they care…”
“Oh, but we do.” Miss Delacrux said with a shy smile. Looking down the table he found the majority to be of the same mindset. Gods help him.
“I see… Well, as one who has never been in love, I really cannot say.” Harry finally said, deciding it was the safest answer.
“I’m sure there are many willing to amend that problem.”
Harry decided Christien was more in league with Lesley than he liked to let on. The bastard even had the innocent smile down pat. Gods, the Maurauders’ soul lived on in the mischievous. He debated whether to play along or not, but decided that the more friendly he appeared, the more people would insist on bothering him. “I’m afraid that no one here will ever get the pleasure. Although there is nothing to hold me back, I have no interest in marriage and would only be so indulgent with my Soul Vigil.” Oh, why did they have to look disappointed? What was wrong with the lot, anyways? It was common knowledge that the Heir didn’t marry anyone but the Soul Vigil, and usually he wouldn’t even do that, just bond for power.
Lesley, thankfully, didn’t seem fazed in the least. “I do believe La Luné would flay you for that. Your love is the stuff of legends and yet you don’t mention him as marriage material?”
“La Luné does not want marriage. He wishes me to suffer in other ways.” Laughter filled the hall but Harry was too busy with the strange ache his words had caused. It was true, he knew that from some part of his mind he couldn’t reach, and that made him sad and somewhat empty. The Soul of Luminous Night, the one his former self loved, would prefer for him to suffer. He started in surprise to find his hand covered by Lesley’s. Meeting his golden eyes, he knew that Lesley could feel that strange pull of pain as well.
“It is more proper for you to show your true eyes when here, Nox Ămor. It suggests you trust us.” Lesley said lightly, easily dismissing any suspicions that anyone else at the table may have of Harry’s state.
Harry glanced around the table slowly, letting Lesley nonchalantly ease some of the foreign magic from his body. He had only read of the nickname his family used to call him while in his different mortal forms. Hearing it aloud seemed to strike a cord deep within. It felt like the more he was with Lesley, the more his other self was awakening. It may have been the natural progression… or maybe being thrown in with people who expected him to be the Heir, forced those vague memories to the forefront. “Perhaps such trust has yet to be earned by all.”
He left them to their nervous laughter, settling on Loxton’s cold gaze. The man had been surprisingly quiet, only keeping to small talk and not much at that. Headache or not, Harry would make an effort. “Tell me, Rowland. Where do you see love in marriage? Celeste is undeniably a wonderful woman whom you care for greatly, but money undoubtedly came with the union. Can you imagine such a callus thing, as what Christien would say, could happen?”
Setting his glass on the table, Loxton graced the table with one of his charming smiles. “I believe Celeste and I were quite lucky in the respect that our arranged marriage had a strong basis in love. Ideally, it would be nice to think love conquers all. But, I’ve found it is a big world and runs more smoothly on need, than on love.”
Harry nodded, and let his eyes shine properly. “I’m afraid part of me agrees.” He sat back, casually extracting his hand from Lesley’s and sending him a thankful glance. “It seems you are naïve, cousin. I’m sure it comes as quite a shock to all.” Surrounded by easy laughter, he was able to push his food around on his plate without anyone caring. How powerful were the invisible bands of metal around his neck? He was supposed to already have a natural immunity to poison, but in his current state he just couldn’t lower his guard, not while here. He would have to speak with Lesley later and see if he couldn’t help him acquire some safe food.
“Sire, are you looking forward to the show?”
Oh, hell. He had made jokes and now people were asking him questions. “And what show would that be, Madame Schwartz?”
Blushing, Madame Schwartz batted her eyes and smiled silkily, leaning forward just enough to show off her cleavage. “The Council has shipped in the elusive Frost Gryphons of the Gloaming all the way from the Wastelands of Thro in Africa. They are rumored to be the last of their kind on Earth.”
Harry wasn’t sure if he was more disturbed by her behavior or what she had just told him. The Council had definitely made an effort. Most likely an afterthought just incase he turned out to be, well, how he was. He feared for the animals though. “That sounds like it will be a very remarkable show indeed. May I ask who has taken the Gryphons into their care? I have a friend who is quite in love with all things concerning magical creatures.”
“Actually, that would be me, si—Harry.” Clive stuttered softly.
Harry glanced down the long table, finding the man ten feet down. The Council had adopted this annoying habit of arranging their seating in levels of importance… well, as they judged it. Clive Forrestal had been placed at the very fringe of the group of councilors. Loxton and Lesley sat on either side, closest to the head of the table where Harry was, and then going from eldest to youngest, except for the few out of place with superior bloodlines. Christien had ended up right beside Lesley since he was the Magistrate, Stratford opposing him. Close family members sat in between the ornate Councilor’s seats on smaller, less detailed chairs. Once the individual chairs ran out, long benches were set down the length of the table for the hundreds of people present. He had caught Loxton staring at his chair at the head of the table quite longingly at odd points during dinner. It seemed the Chancellor had claimed it for his own in an act of rebellion when he had first acquired the office. Some would have let it go, but he had a feeling Loxton wasn’t one of them.
He smiled at Clive, hoping to ease his nervousness. “Have you enjoyed their company? They are supposed to be affectionate if they respect you.”
“I’m afraid they have not had the chance to settle yet.” Clive looked away uncomfortably. “The manner they were acquired and shipped did not take into account their unique disposition. I have restored them as best I could given the time restraints…”
Harry sighed inwardly. “Perhaps later on, after the festivities have slowed, we could have a look at them together. There are ways I can help them that most healers are unfamiliar with.”
Surprised and very relieved, too relieved for Harry’s liking, Clive nodded. “Thank you. I think that would be best. They have no physical malady that I can find. I’ve worked with Gryphons before but not this breed. There are no records… it has been a very difficult task and I’ve only had them for a day.”
“They didn’t come with an instruction manual?” Harry asked innocently.
“I, uh, well no…” It took a moment for Clive to realize he was being played at. He broke into a grin, covering his mouth to hold in his laughter.
Smiling inwardly at how easy it was to tease the man, Harry went back to playing with his food. Clive was only a few years older than him… well, he was twenty-five years old but he seemed younger… or maybe this whole Heir business had left him feeling older. He noticed that Clive followed the elder generation for proper instruction, but Harry was certain he would have been another free spirited soul if he didn’t hold himself to such high standards. If Lesley would stop obsessing over Christien for five minutes, he may be able to have his cousin help draw Clive out of his shell. The man had a great power within him that was being wasted by the Council’s insistence that bloodline was the only way one could have magic… the same for Marjory and Stratford actually.
Marjory, at thirty-four, had submitted herself to the roles of supporting others and had forgotten to care for herself in the process. Power slept within her stiff exterior that she refused to acknowledge. Stratford had the blood but Harry couldn’t help and wonder if the man hadn’t become too complacent in his years. Some people, after they reached a certain age, were quite content to just let go. Normally he never would have seen Stratford in that light, but now that he had met Margaret, Stratford’s delicate wife who had been plagued with illness since her early thirties, he couldn’t help but think Stratford was ready to pass away once she did.
Christien… well there was a reason Loxton, at three hundred and twenty-nine years old, was smitten with the man. Christien’s power crackled, fighting to break free and fly, and the man’s personality reflected it. Maybe it was all the time spent stuck at the Dursley’s, but now, when he saw things caged, he naturally wanted to break it loose. It reminded him of Malfoy; his temper reigned free to make up for his absolute control with everything else. Fighting with him over the years had been the only time he had seen the boy’s control break. Draco probably would have been having as much fun as Lesley right now; he just had so much control that no one would ever know.
“You look very serious indeed, Harry.” Lesley didn’t ask if he was all right, Harry noted thoughtfully. Loud and exuberant and yet absolutely subtle when needed; if he wasn’t so certain of Lesley’s loyalties, Harry would have seen him as a potential threat.
“I was wondering what it takes to shatter someone’s self control so their souls fly free… figuratively speaking. Destroying their bodies would be the easiest if I really wanted to send souls flying.” He chuckled lightly, especially when no one but Lesley joined in, the others watching with pained expressions. Apparently the sense of humor that came from his family’s side was not shared.
“Ah, that has been something that I have been considering for about seventy years, since I took to training new Councilors. So much power and life, and they intentionally stuff it down, as if by denying it they have grown stronger over themselves.”
“Yet it cripples them instead.”
Lesley nodded. “It is most disturbing to watch as they slowly suffocate themselves from the inside out. Out of the all of them, I think I’ve only come close to saving five, Christien my most successful.” He flashed the man, who was intentionally ignoring him, an endearing smile. “He is stubborn though. Others have potential… but few listen to me anyways. I am a descendant of the gods, they’re too busy being afraid and wary. For all my knowledge and experience, I hold less sway than an outsider…” He added with a tinge of bitterness. Lesley had learned first hand how others treated those with Soul Awakenings.
“My brothers have not made it easy for mortals to feel otherwise.” Harry commented dryly.
“Not in the slightest. They are a little too free, I think.”
“They just didn’t care for the ones that could not equal them. In a way my fault. I chained them here, forced this life on them. They refuse to learn. If I freed them now, they would destroy this realm just to spite me.”
“And what of you, bound within your flesh? Do you not wish to soar as well?”
Harry frowned, thinking of the iron control he had to have on his power for all time. “It would not be intentional but the world would be ruined. I could not be as selfish to destroy the world for a simple feeling of completeness. They,” He waved his hand to indicate everyone at the table, “Do not have such a problem. A confusion of what is civilized and what is barbaric has crippled them. I think, once the magical beings have regained their status in the realm again, such misinterpretations will slowly disappear.”
Lesley nodded with a wistful expression. “I await the day. Solus Ta has spoken of those times, thousands of years previous, with such a kind smile on his face. Things were far different then, when you were quick to come and heal the lands. …He has missed you, I think.”
“If I live long enough, I will make time to see him.” Harry shrugged lightly, eyes catching something in the distance. “I’m sure he can understand my hesitation…”
“I’m sure… What is it?” Lesley followed Harry’s gaze all the way down, past the Councilors and Scion Clans, to the Clans that were on the border of worthy enough to join the Heir in dinner. A plump woman with large feathers braided into her graying hair was leaning over a young man, subtly berating a boy close to Harry’s own age. Not that anything got past Harry’s sharp eyes. Lesley turned to whisper to Harry, “Would you like me to see to them?”
Harry blinked, focusing on Lesley. What exactly did ‘see to them’ mean? “What… no. No, I recognized the boy. He looks different but his aura and manner are still the same. He’s a friend of mine from school.”
“Oh, why didn’t you say so?” Lesley laughed, straightening.
Harry gave his cousin a long look and was once again glad to know that the man would never turn on him. The First Chair was always one of his brothers’ descendents and the First Chair was bound by magic to be unable to go against the Heir. “I just noticed him. This table is ridiculously long. I’m sure Neville can’t even see me from all the way down there. He must have had his exritus this summer because I barely recognize him.”
“He’s one of the few that have gained their true Soul Forms. I’m sure his family will be quite relieved with your latest decree. I can have him up to sit with you, if you like; given his power he has the right. It may be nice to see a familiar face.”
“I, uh… I don’t think so.” Harry sighed, sitting back in his seat and watching his old friend roll his eyes at his grandmother. It had been different when with Malfoy. Here, there was no denying that he was anything but the Heir to the Soul of Chaos. Who would Neville see when they came face to face? Was there anything left of Harry Potter anymore?
If Lesley found it odd, he didn’t say. Malfoy would have… he would have chewed his ear off and then dragged poor Neville up just to prove how wrong he was, embarrassing everyone in the process. Ha, probably would have given Loxton a heart attack… He started, jolting his eyes over the crowd. “Cousin, where are the Scion Dragon Clan?”
Stilling, Lesley carefully placed his silverware down and turned to Loxton with a dangerous look. “I think our dear Chancellor is the one best equipped to answer that question, since it was his decision that their Clan is not here.”
Pulling himself from his conversation with his wife, Loxton looked mildly back at Lesley, but the ceasing of chatter by those near by was a sign that this was a touchy subject. “Their leader is well known to be in league with the Dark Lord. I think it would be foolish to invite them here when Voldemort is quite intent on killing our Heir. Wouldn’t you agree, Harry?”
Harry remained silent and watched Lesley’s scowl deepen. It was the first time he had seen the man truly angry and it was a little intimidating… well, for everyone else at the table. He didn’t like to see that light fade from his cousin’s face; he liked the angry waves of hopelessness rolling off him even less. Harry turned to Loxton and forced the man to meet his eyes. “Why didn’t you invite the Scion Dragon Clan?”
Loxton stiffened, opened his mouth to say the same as before and ended up speaking the truth instead. “I feared they would be too powerful when united.”
“Continue. Why do you fear if they are powerful?” Harry prompted, when Loxton, eyes empty, fell silent. Draco was better at fighting it, he realized. That, or his own power had gotten stronger over the last few days. Loxton was in something close to a trance.
“Their Queen contests my throne. Since she has broken free of Voldemort’s hold, she has all rights to it. If her scattered clan had been joined together tonight under her reign, you would have found her worthy of her rightful seat on the Council. She then could claim her place as Chancellor if she desired it.”
“Would she desire it?”
“She is angry that we betrayed her to Voldemort. She would desire to overthrow me in any way possible.”
Reflexively, Harry bared his teeth and growled at the mention of anyone being betrayed to Voldemort. Breaking his hold on Loxton, he dwelled on what he had just learned. “We will continue this conversation later, Chancellor, along with why the Scion Hippogriff Clan and Helena Dominé are missing as well. I will not tolerate this continued passive defiance.” He promised, turning from the confused man. “Lesley, the queen he speaks of Narcissa Black Malfoy, correct?”
Lesley nodded grimly. “Yes. She was but sixteen when her family was murdered and her kidnapped.”
“No one tried to save her?”
Loxton sneered, his composer back in place along with his cold rage. “She was a traitor. She didn’t want to be saved.”
“She couldn’t ask to be saved.” Lesley hissed back. “Lucius knew that, just as well as the rest of us, but he was the only one willing to be exiled over it.”
“Lucius was a fool. He threw his Clan away playing the brave knight; he deserved the punishment he got.”
“Don’t you dare belittle his sacrifice. He gave everything while you sat on your selfish ass and watched the world spiral into despair.” Lesley had risen from his seat, his anger cracking his glamours while he fought for control to keep from changing to his Soul Form. Even as power threatened all around, his voice was low and calm. “You forbade any to interfere with Riddle and then, when the pureblood families were targeted and slaughtered, you let the half-blood have the one source of power that could allow him to destroy the world. Two different prophets foresaw what her son would become. We all heard and agreed on it’s meaning, and you gave him away to evil.”
“And he rebelled and grew stronger from it—”
“Do not pretend you did it for any other reason than to better yourself, Rowland!”
Loxton stood with his hand ready to draw his wand. “Do not tell me what my motives are. I am not another plebian under your rule, you old fool. I am Chancellor of this Council and the gods cannot touch me! I suggest you remember that before you question me again, Griffith.”
Lesley only smiled chillingly, his voice low and full of promised pain. “Once the Coronation Ceremony is complete, I will officially call for your Judgement. It has been long enough, Rowland. You are no longer infallible in this circle. Believe me, I will be first in line to shred your diseased flesh once you are expelled from your undeserving, exalted position. Death claims us all, and she is not a fan of your work.” A tremor went through his form, the nearest glasses shattering in a waterfall of crystal and wine. “Excuse me, Harry. I need a moment to compose…” With a curt nod, Lesley whirled and practically flew from the room.
“Sit, Chancellor.” Harry commanded before Loxton could chase after Lesley and get himself killed. Although the evening was turning out to be far more interesting than he had thought, with Lesley off to keep his power in check, he no longer had the man as a buffer for all the magical influence. “It seems conversation has gotten too tense for such a joyous occasion. We will keep business for tomorrow and enjoy the rest of the evening without any more harsh words.” If anyone else had said it, the crowd would have considered it a suggestion. Harry’s tone made it an order. The noise level grew again, as people bred for it, let their skills in aimless small talk shine.

*******

The Frost Gryphons of the Gloaming were not pleased to be at White Towers. From what Harry could hear of their grumblings, they were not pleased to be chained up and paraded in front of the crowd of hundreds either.
Lesley had returned, but was keeping to the edge of the crowd, so that a mass of people was between him and the object of his anger. Christien had quietly informed him that it wasn’t unusual for the two to argue; it had become an almost daily occurrence. Since Lesley had been there long before Loxton, the court had assumed it was jealousy on Lesley’s part for the position of Chancellor. Apparently they had forgotten that any descendant born of his brothers could never be Chancellor by the Heir’s decree. Christien was sure it was because of Loxton’s many misdeeds that no one could trace back to the man. If they were similar to the whole Narcissa horror story, he could truly sympathize with Lesley.
Watching the crowd around them, brown eyes dark with suspicion, Christien continued to whisper into Harry’s ear. “Lesley’s been waiting for your arrival since he was born. He’s a patient man but he’s become rash tonight by declaring Judgement and warning Loxton in the process. Loxton anticipation of his Judgement will force him to act, Harry. He is not one to let go of his power. You are still a new born and not even fully formed. You mustn’t underestimate him.”
“I know. It’s a lesson I learned long ago.” Harry watched as Clive did his best to lead the two Gryphons around in large circles. Although he had a mouse-like demeanor around the other Council members, Clive was more than confident with the towering beasts whose piercing pale blue eyes were promising pain. As with most Gryphons, their bodies were that of lions while their faces and front legs resembled huge eagles. Their coloring was black, except for the dusting of white that sparkled down their backs, over their wings, and all the way down to the tips of their slender tails like a frosty snow. Their wings had been tucked and strapped to their backs by thick magical straps to keep them from flying, and large shackles chained each scaled, long talon legs to their more feline back legs.
The Gryphon’s unique coloring was supposed to be a result of their homelands, the desert of Thro. A vast, white-sanded wasteland surrounded the chasm where the Gryphons dwelled. The chasm had cliffs so high, and vegetation so thick, that sunlight rarely penetrated the darkness deep within. Once true night fell, the beasts would come out of the darkness of the chasm and feed off the rays of the moonlight… or so the legend goes. Harry could tell just from the smell of blood that they were flesh eaters. That and the fact that they were commenting about how Clive would be easy to kill and probably wouldn’t taste half bad, kind of clued him in on it.
Eyes tight on the Gryphons just in case they decided to give Clive a taste, Harry moved Christien and him a little further from the thick crowd. “What is your goal in all this? Can I trust you to be as loyal as my cousin?”
Christien furrowed his brows, confused by the question. “You are the Heir. If you want my loyalty you can take it easily.”
“Are you asking me to force your will? Do you think me some sort of monster, Christien?” He risked a glance at the man, not inspired by what he saw. “You can feel my power but I have not struck Loxton down or bent him to my will. If Marjory revolts against me I will not truly kill her. I have merely appointed you jobs for the betterment of the world and, in addition, yourselves. To force someone… to take away that freedom that we are all born with…” Harry frowned, meeting Christien’s eyes. “I reserve that as my ultimate punishment, death a comparable blessing.”
“Err… maybe I’ll just take back what I said.” Christien smiled sheepishly. He let out a long sigh, staring at his shoes with a blank expression as he mulled over the question. “I want what’s best for the world… I want the oath I took to actually mean something, not just words the Council hides behind while they watch others suffer. As long as I feel you follow the ideals of balance I will be loyal to you.” He promised, his brown eyes full of sincerity. “Besides…” He glanced over to where Lesley was glaring at Loxton. “The way he smiled today. I haven’t seen him like that in years… He really believes in you.”
A heavy weight settled in Harry’s chest at Christien’s words. It was easier to deal with the ones that hated and feared him, he realized dully. That way, if he failed, no one was hurt. Dudley had trusted him to keep him and his mother safe… He shook the thoughts away. “You look up to him.”
Christien snorted but a soft look crossed his face. “He’s the most idiotic three hundred year old I’ve ever met. Crass, arrogant, hotheaded, childish, vain, and it goes on. But… he cares, really cares about people. I guess I see him as a mentor, if not only a friend.” He shrugged lightly. “For all his flaws, he knows when to make you smile when you need it most.”
Harry nodded understandingly, having experienced Lesley’s compassion first hand that day. “I think you should let him finish training you. We weren’t kidding earlier; your power is just waiting to be let out. You could be complete.”
For some reason Christien seemed to find the two Gryphons very interesting as his face quickly turned red. “I don’t think he’s interested in training anymore.”
Harry scratched his nose, a frown twisting his lips. “What do you mean? He is obligated to train you all to your fullest potential as long as you are willing.”
“I mean… well, errm…” Christien ducked his head, looking up at Harry through his curls. “He’s interested in other things, you know? The shit we were talking about in the Hall of Peace?”
Shaking his head in confusion, Harry stifled the chuckle rising in his chest. “I have no idea.”
Christien huffed and crossed his arms. “You know…” He glanced over his shoulder and leaned in to whisper. “One day out of the blue he just started, well, propositioning me, and acting like an all around arse, more so than usual. Than he gets all bloody hurt and shit like he’s serious but I know he’s not, he just jumps at anything that moves, the tosser bastard—” He stopped, catching the laughter in Harry’s eyes. “Gods damn—you all just love making a fool of me.” He grumbled, running a hand through his mop of curls. “Bloody gods and their descendents…”
Harry laughed softly. “You don’t give him enough credit. I can’t speak for his heart, but it’s a known fact that power attracts power. Your power interacts well together, which is why he’s been able to help you along as far as he has. It’s rare to get mortals to stop aging like you have.”
“Yeah, well— W-What?” Christien blinked, his pout fading to a look of complete shock.
“He didn’t tell you? Your magic has gotten to the point where it is preserving your body from age and most diseases. It won’t take much more for that final step. You could become a true Wizard of the Fae with your bloodline. I’m hoping that I can get the four of you near that goal before I leave, five if Helena is of the right caliber. It would help things greatly if you each had that boost of power…” He stopped as the room swam around him, the roar of the crowd suddenly overwhelming. Uh-oh…
He hadn’t been paying attention. There were too many people, too much magic that didn’t agree with him. Eyes intent on Clive once again, he fisted his hand, digging his nails into his palm to help bring him back to focus. “Get me Lesley. Be discrete but swift.” He said softly.
One look at Harry’s pale face, Christien nodded slightly and began pushing his way through the crowd to where Lesley was glowering.
It wasn’t until Madame Henrietta had latched onto his arm, dragging her two daughters and son to circle around him, that Harry realized the mistake he had made. Go away, go away, go away! The sudden addition of magic sent his head spinning, but outwardly he only stiffened and tightened his fist. He didn’t bother to keep the edge out of his voice this time. “Madame, I have warned you already. Do not make me speak of it again.” He met the woman’s suddenly frightened eyes, waiting until she stopped shaking enough to pull her hand away.
Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Harry pasted a kinder expression on his face, and prayed for endurance. He could not break down here, not in front of all these people that had to look to him for strength, not without Malfoy there to catch him. “Forgive me. My head has been bothering me and the noise has not helped. I can only assume these are your children; they share your beauty, Madame Henrietta.” He gave a quick smile to each attractive teen, perplexed to find them all blushing and staring at him intently.
“Why, thank you, Sire.” Her smile returned almost instantly, a healthy glow lighting Madame Henrietta’s full face. “I’m afraid my children are all I have since Edward’s untimely demise. It has been difficult, but they have made life without my husband more than endurable.” As Madame Henrietta began to prattle on about each of her children’s many endowments, Harry began to see that his earlier insistence of not planning on marriage had gone unheeded. Oh joy.
“Henrietta, the children are looking well.” Stratford Calvert, his long white hair shining against his dark blue robes, swooped in with his sweet wife, Margaret, holding lightly to his arm. He met Harry’s grateful gaze with a brief nod before turning to the children. “Why Eric looks like he’s about ready for the Trials. What do you say boy; are you looking forward to one day taking your father’s place on the Council?”
“Oh, he’s still has a good five years yet, Stratford. He’s eager though.” Henrietta chuckled proudly, not noticing when Harry quietly slipped away to meet Lesley and Christien.
“Get me out of here. I don’t care where, just now.” Harry whispered, letting Lesley grab his arm and lead him towards the nearest door and into an empty corridor.
“What’s happening?” Christien asked worriedly, shutting the door before a crowd could follow. “He looks like hell.”
“Magic sensitivity.” Lesley muttered, helping Harry down the hall and to an empty room. “I think this should do… Alright, Harry love.” He wrapped his arms around Harry’s trembling form, hugging him tight and letting his energy wash over the boy. “How long do you think you’ll need?”
Sighing, Harry rubbed his head against Lesley’s neck, something he had wanted to do since he had recognized his family’s energy. He was almost surprised when he wasn’t smacked away… Hell, he really must miss Malfoy; he had gotten used to his insane screechings. “Less than you think. Time moves differently for me. Just leave me some water and make sure no one interrupts me. I need someone to make sure Clive doesn’t get eaten by those Gryphon’s, Lez; they’re not impressed by humans.”
“I’ll take care of it. I’ll call one of the gargoyles to guard you, so don’t be too surprised if you trip on it on the way out.” He trailed his fingers through Harry’s sparkling hair, massaging his headache away.
“Don’t. You can’t take anymore without poisoning yourself.” Harry chided, butting into his shoulder affectionately before pulling away with a smile. “I’ll be fine in a while. Oh, Christien needs to talk to you about something.” He looked pointedly at the flushed man. “You need to discuss how powerful he is.” He gave his cousin a light shove towards the door, smiling until the door was closed and warded.
Now alone, he was able to let go of the façade, and he fell to his knees with a whimper. Huge feathered wings the color of midnight sprouted from his back and wrapped around him. The lights in the room flickered, an impossibly dark shadow hovering around Harry’s pained form. The shadow grew, spreading out and up, until everything was absorbed in the hole. Immediately all outside magic ceased to exist in the realm of darkness Harry had created. Sighing in relief, Harry revealed the rest of his Soul Form and crawled atop the closest couch, wrapping himself around a throw pillow. It was a lousy substitute for Draco’s lithe form but, if he closed his eyes and concentrated, he could summon the boy’s smell to his mind as if he was cuddled against him once again.
He sighed and swore under his breath when his nose filled with the distinct scent of fabric. Any other time, he would have ordered the Council to let Malfoy in. They had made a very dangerous move by separating him from his Soul Vigil. Oh, they had known. After Lesley and Loxton’s argument the whole bloody table had been whispering about Draco’s candidacy, along with rumors of Draco being Voldemort’s bride with signed contracts and everything. What his ears couldn’t pick up, which wasn’t much with his new senses, he had skimmed from the surface of people’s minds until he had gotten a headache. But he didn’t call for Malfoy, as much as he wanted to, as much as he needed to. Loxton couldn’t reach Harry, but he sure as hell would kill off Draco if he were near. He couldn’t allow that to happen.
It made sense now. From what he had read about the Soul Vigil in the dark book, Malfoy had all the symptoms of being his. The calming energy he gave off. And his protective mothering—not that he would ever say that in front of Draco; the boy would kill him! It was good they had become friends. They would be spending a lot of time together and the prospect wasn’t that dismal. Well, he had wanted to spend time with him anyways, before he had actually known he was a Candidate. Malfoy really understood him—because he knew? Did he know? Certainly Draco knew he was a Candidate; how could he not. Had he recognized him for what he was? Was that why he had been so nice to him the whole time? Was that why he had wanted to be friends?
Harry swallowed thickly, his chest tightened and the back of his eyes began to sting. Was that all it was? Malfoy was… well, Malfoy was brilliant. He had pretended to be on Voldemort’s side; it would easy for him to pretend he was his friend too—No, no, Draco would never—would he…? He had spent years tormenting him, of course he would—Wait. He could trust him. He had said he could trust him and he couldn’t lie about it so it had to be true. But-but trust wasn’t the same as wanting to be friends, or wanting to be around him, or wanting to hang out and play. Stop—he had said that he didn’t think he was a monster. Malfoy would never be friends with a monster and-and-and if he had known, Draco would have said and done anything that he thought the Heir would want to hear!
An inhuman cry ripped from his throat, low and sad, and the instant he realized it had come from him he bit into the pillow to stop the heart wrenching sound. No, it wasn’t fair! Everything, everything was—he could never have anything—Was it so much to ask for someone to accept him as he was—just for who he was—He hadn’t asked for this! Why was it all out of reach? He clutched his head, the cry bubbling out of him again and this time he didn’t try to stop it. Help. Please—I can’t do this—don’t leave me alone again. Don’t leave me all alone—
A fired flared to life in his chest, stopping his inner pleas and all thought. With shaking hands, he grabbed at the spot, his claws tearing the expensive robes right down the middle, catching on his skin and digging into his flesh but he didn’t care. He didn’t stop until he was able to place his hand to his bare chest, and feel the heartbeat that wasn’t his own beat faintly.
Alive. Worried. Tired. Afraid. Alone. Worried. Alive. Alive. Alive. Familiar pale hands flashed before his mind’s eye, well-manicured nails flickering into view as each hand clenched and unclenched anxiously on perfectly tailored slacks.
“Oh gods. You stupid prat… it’s you.” Harry wiped blithely at the tears streaming down his face, taking deep breaths as he tried to regain his composure. He was losing it. He had thought he could deal since his resistance to magic had grown, but he had been basing it on the assumption that Malfoy would be there to take care of him, and calm him down, and hold him while he cried, and tell him just how stupid he was for doubting their friendship, and remind him that he was fucking delirious when like this, and by, by just being there. Because, ever since he had awoken from his capture by the Death Eaters, Malfoy had been there, as the little person in his chest that he had thought might have died when the moon had left and Voldemort had attacked Privet Drive.
Oh, fuck, he couldn’t stop crying. Relief at knowing the little person was alive, and that Malfoy would never pretend to like him—hell, how many times had they fought? There was no pretending any of it— and the realization that the depths of how much Malfoy cared was clear with each worried beat that little person’s heart gave, and that maybe he really wasn’t alone ever; it all crashed in on him and now he really couldn’t stop crying but even that was okay because it wasn’t that heart wrenching scream and it was helping to remove the foreign magic—and Malfoy was helping him once again, even when not there. No—no, fuck! He’s leaving again! The little person was fading. Harry squeezed, hoping to draw the feeling back, but it only resulted in turning his chest into a bloody mess.
It had been a joke when he had said it; he had meant it as a joke. Just something you say and kind of mean but know it could never actually happen. Now he knew better. Gods help him, but he was losing his mind without Draco there. He couldn’t stay. He had promised, the Council needed him, but he couldn’t stay. He couldn’t do this alone and-and he was always alone and why wasn’t Malfoy there and maybe he should just kill the whole lot of them after all. No—focus… bad thoughts… no more bad thoughts… He had to try and sleep. Just think about him and how worried he is. He was worried. People cared about him. Somewhere, people cared about him. They were depending—fuck, why did they have to depend on him!
Stop. Just stop.
Breathe.
Concentrate on breathing. In and out. In and out. In with the good air, out with the bad. In with the darkness, out with the foreign magic. What had been that crack Malfoy had said…? In with the cool Slytherin, out with the dorky Gryffindor. He chuckled, low and broken, and repeated it over and over in his head until he could finally fall asleep.
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Awakening To the Dream