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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
- 4
- 5
- 6
"The worst is over now and we can breathe again
I wanna hold you high, you steal my pain away
There's so much left to learn, and no one left to fight
I wanna hold you high and steal you pain away."
~Broken, Seether with Amy Lee

Chapter Four~
Harry knew he was dreaming. He had to be; there was no other explanation for what was going through his head. Plus, he already knew he was asleep; he'd come in from Quiddich practice and almost immediately fallen onto his bed after striping to his boxers. Soon after, the darkness had enveloped him.
And then he saw the gold line again. So he knew he was dreaming. Thus, he had control of the dream.
Sort of.
He'd deigned not to follow the golden line, knowing it would take him back to that chamber and that moment and that fight and all the tears and anger that would follow. Because this wasn't a nightmare, so the orb beneath his pillow didn't dispel it pensively, with a soft, seductive promise, like alcohol to a drunkard.
But, since he wasn't following the line, it seemed everyone was going to come to him and bid their 'hellos'.
It surprised him that the first to stride past in the pitless void with the golden line with Remus, Tonks at his side. They both looked tired, worn, beaten. they were talking in hushed tones, but stopped when Harry made as though he would stand and try to talk to them. Tonks glared at him, a most ugly and uncharacteristic look on the young woman's face; s shs shook his head and sighed. And then they were gone.
Oh yes, such sure control over this dream. He didn't hao reo react to them. And if he didn't, he would wake up, and wouldn't have to see things he didn't want to.
But somehow Malfoy had burrowed his way into this dream as well. He stood before Harry for a long time, his eyes lost and forlorn, a few sheets of parchment clenched in his hand. They stared at each other for a long while, before the dream-Malfoy sighed, and moved as though to pass him.
He sat beside him instead, silent sentinel on the other side of the golden line, his hair rippling around his face in an unseen wind. Harry watched him a while, before he focused on the line, and then back into the darkness.
Unlike so many of the dreams with the golden line before, he was oppressed by the next image. His father and mother stood before him, distant, hazy, their eyes - hazel and almost painful green - darting from him, over to the blood beside him. Dream-James sneered at him, glaring; the expression hurt, especially as dream-Lily turned her face into her husband's neck, sobbing as though Harry had done something horrible.
Like he was dead.
"Maybe you are..."
The figures of his mother and father disappeared, and were replaced by his godfather, but not really. This Sirius was slightly younger than the one that had fallen, maybe as old as he'd been when he'd been taken to Azkaban. His eyes were bright, and tattoos - not the ones he had had in real life - marred his flesh. He was dressed more like a man from the Highlands, roguish and slightly violent, his eyes wild; some ancient Celt fused with the man he'd come to know and love in a year.
This dream-Celt-Sirius looked at him with harsh, unforgiving honestly from beneath half lidded eyes, before gesturing towards dream-Malfoy.
"You're dead if he knows you're dreaming of him." That was the honest truth, blunt and forced into Harry's face. "You're dead if he doesn't know how you feel."
Harry's mouth opened to form a question, ask what this dream form of his godfather meant. Dream-Sirius raised a brow slowly at him, almost begging him to argue, so more of those blunt facts could be shoved into his mind.
"You shouldn't toy with him. He hurts too much. He's been toyed with enough."
Suddenly, behind dream-Sirius's shoulder, a very young girl appeared. She had large, nearly black eyes, almost pallid skin, bright, fiery red hair with darker, nearly black hints and paler golden ones as well. Her face was round, her fingers long and graceful in an eerie, almost bony way, like there was only enough muscle on them to make them bend, and otherwise they were just bones with flesh on them.
Hands like Professor Luc's.
The girl smiled slightly. Dream-Sirius smiled at her, though his eyes were still mostly on Harry, and then he spoke again.
"You can trust her, Harry. And him. But trust yourself too." He was fading into the distance, into the darkness, leaving the girl and dream-Malfoy with him.
Suddenly, Harry was on his feet, standing at the uppermost tier in the chamber. But this time, there was no fight, no angry cackling of Bellatrix Lestrange, no fateful fall of his godfather. Slowly, Harry made his way down the stairs, dimly aware that dream-Malfoy and the little girl were with him as well, the girl at his side and a little ahead, dream-Malfoy just the opposite.
The curtain was rippling in the same unknown wind that dream-Malfoy's hair moved in. Voices were murmuring from behind it, as seductive as the ones that murmured when he was near the Clairaudience orb, more so because of their mystery. Harry reached a hand to catch the tattered veil in his fingers.
The little girl shrieked beside him, and disappeared with a banshee wail. Harry's eyes darted to where she'd been, than beyond, to the stairs.
Dream-Sirius was back, even more a Celtic warrior, glaring down at him. Beside Harry, dream-Malfoy tensed, moving closer to him. Harry had the sudden urge to comfort the blond apparition, but more so an urge to run up and speak with this incarnation of his godfather.
Neither happened, as he was plunged into a darkness that not even the golden lineld lld light, oppressive and cruel, filled with hate.
The last dream had not been a nightmare. THIS one veell ell could be.
The murmurs from the orb had stilled into silence.
~~~
Iphigenia rubbed her forehead as she sat up, growling under her breath. She hadn't had a headache like this in all her long memory, not since she was a child. And, surely, that was so long ago. Slowly, she climbed out of bed, ignoring the murmur given from her bed mate; she couldn't rightly remember who it was, so she wasn't about to wake them up with her problems.
Stumbling a little, she made her way into her privy, turning the lights on with an absent wave of her hand. For a moment, she stared at the bottom of the basin, before she trained her eyes on the mirror above it.
Her mind was blissfully silent, like it was before she entered her trances. But she knew she wasn't in a trance, and even when she was, Sylvana was always there, advising a course of action.
Even Sylvana was silent, and even the Other.
Iphigenia furrowed her brow. She hadn't thought of the Other since the last time she'd had one of these dreadful migraines that even the strongest charm couldn't make pass. She'd always thought the Other had passed away into the shadows, locked away to be retrieved when - more likely if - she were ever needed.
She needed to talk to someone about this.
"Iphi'?"
Iphigenia cursed liberally under her breath, and ducked into the room a little. Tonks sat up on her bed, holding the sheets to her chest and looking sweetly bewildered with her head cocked to the side, her eyes still baffled with sleep¹.
"Wha'chu doin' lurve?" the young woman murmured. Iphigenia smiled a little, though she knew Tonks couldn't see it, the way the light was behind her.
"Headache, 'dora. Go back to sleep, alright? Don't you have to be at the Ministry early tomorrow..." Tonks blinked a little, before shrugging, giving Iphigenia one last long look, before patting the bed beside her.
"Come back to bed,i'.&i'."
"In a minutes, 'dora," Iphigenia promised. The other woman nodded, yawned widely and snuggled back under the blankets with a contented little sigh at the warmth around her. With a sigh, Iphigenia leaned against the door frame, nibbling her lip.
Tonks understood her, knew her plight as a fellow Metamorphagus, could understand the strain of Clairaudience, as she owned an orb for the purpose, left in a drawer in her Auror's office. But the young, spunky woman didn't understand all of Iphigenia, the woman she called her sister-in-arms, her friend, the non-Auror, one of only a few in the Order that had no affiliation with the Ministry at all.
Iphigenia could remember the day she'd met Tonks, back when they'd gone to school together at Hogwarts; she'd been transferred from her school in Greece when her mother had moved them and her younger brother and sister to live with Iphigenia's grandparents. How Iphigenia had cried, her first week at Hogwarts, without her friend, struggling with the language, and forbidden to have her lovely, wondrous Raven, Orpheus.
Tonks had come to her on the second day, as she'd sat on the pitch in the rain, and simply sat with her. Her hair had been long than, her personality more subdued - mostly likely by the teachers. She'd be bea beater, and still wore her Hufflepuff Quiddich colors when she'd sat beside her, offering nothing more than a warm back to lean against.
After a while, the girl she came to call 'dora had become something more than a friend. And when the graduated, and Tonks left to become an Auror, Iphigenia had gone off to try to become one as well, hoping to stay with her friend.
The other girl had felt bad when she was rejected, but refused to tell anyone the solid reason MiniMinistry had given not to let her into the midst of those molitelite of wizards.
Iphigenia Luc was unstable, mentally and emotionally. It had stated so in the form she'd been sent, explaining why she couldn't be an Auror. She had a mental syndrome known by Muggles as MPD - Multiple Personality Disorder - and her current alter-ego was dangerous, not just to those around her, but to herself. Nobody knew how the other personality would react in a situation, nor how Iphigenia would withstand the strain of changing from one person to the next; as if she hadn't done it before. As if they knew what she went through, how Sylvana was more of a sister than her own.
And how the Other would comfort her, knowing things nobody should know except for her, and even then they shouldn't, because the Other was just so young.
Because the Other was her, way back when, when she hadn't BEEN Iphigenia.
Her headache wasn't going away. With a , sh, she flicked off the lights, and wandered back to her bed, sliding in. Tonks sighed beside her, and moved closer as Iphigenia sank fully back, murmuring under her breath.
"Yer warm..." was clearly heard as Tonks molded up to her, even closer. Iphigenia rolled her eyes, wrapping an arm around the other woman's shoulder.
"Go to sleep, silly..."
~~~

"Harry," Hermione murmured, sitting next to the dark haired boy in Transfigurations. "Are you alright? Ron's been telling me haven't been sleeping well, and we didn't see you after practice last night -."
"Just tired, Hermi'," Harry replied, even as he lifted his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Hermione placed a hand on his arm; Harry looked over at her. "Yeah?" She sighed slightly and offered a little smile.
"You sure you're ok? You know you can talk to me, Harry, about anything." Her eyes softened a bit more as her smile branched into their chocolate depths. "Anything at all, Harry." The green eyed boy stared at his friend a long moment, then nodded firmly, smiling a little at her.
"After class, I'll tell you what's on my mind, ok?" She nodded.
The class itself past relatively well, productively, and then it was lunch time. Harry collected his books, stowing them away, with Hermione and Ron both hovering near by; a few of the other Gyffindors were hanging around the door, bantering back and forth.
In the hall, Ginny and Luna joined their group, talking about there classes, when Luna tugged Harry's sleeve. Her distant, yet ultimately knowing eyes fixed on him intensely, before she pulled a small, brown-wrapped parcel from her bag.
"Professor Luc told me to give this to you. Says she forgot to give it to you the other day, that it's from Moony; said you would know." She smiled almost foolishly and moved up to be with Ginny in the mesh of people, where she was talking animatedly with Neville.
Harry turned the package over in his hands, walking to catch up with the others as he untied the neat twine holding it, and pulled away the paper to reveal the item within.
~~~
Draco picked at his lunch near the end of the Slytherin table. It wasn't as if he was actually hungry. In truth, he hadn't actually eaten anything since he'd reed ted the letter from home; or, properly, he would eat for show, than proceed to lose everything into the loo later on. Not that anybody would care if he didn't eat, didn't even come to the meals.
Except Snape, who would ask why he was being a wank and threaten him with endless detentions if he didn't go to the meals.
Except Blaise, who would ask why he wasn't coming to the meals, take him up to the tower and talk with him about the problem, try to help defuse it with or for him, whether Draco wanted the help or not.
Of course, Draco reasoned, that's what a friend does. They try to figure it out, and try to make it better. Try to keep you from hurting yourself.
I'm not hurting myself though, so there's no problem, is there?
"Malfoy." Draco turned at the sharply cultured voice, and found himself looking up into the eyes of the DADA teacher, and his Head of House, both of who were frowning, looking like death and his consort in their flowing black robes. "Come with us please."
"Of course professors." Slowly, he slid up off the bench; he wad a d a little, his hungry stomach making itself known with a bout of dizziness and nausea, but he pushed both aside. Blaise looked up from his own meal, but Draco spared him a glance, practically ordering him not to be stupid and follow them.
They walked in silence for a long while, Snape before him and to his left, Professor Luc the opposite. Draco was struck by an odd, detached deja vu, but he didn't even allow himself to think of anything like that. Eventually, they came to Snape's dungeon office, where the blond was hit by another bout of dizziness, nausea and deja vu as Luc moved around him to stand in the some place as the blond woman had when he'd spoken with the Potions Master earlier that month.
"Draco," the dark haired woman murmured. She had a tick above her left eyebrow that she kept trying to rub away as she gestured to the seat before Snape's desk. "Have a seat." The blond did so, looking down at his hands. His gaze was still a little blurred on the edges, a little darker than normal. What is WRONG with me, he silently demanded, clenching his fists.
"Malfoy, it has come to Dumbledore's attention that you may be in more danger than we thought at the beginning of the year," Snape began. Draco looked up slowly, trying to focus on the greasy man before him; it wasn't working. "We believe your life may be in danger."
"Well, that's a statement of theiousious," Draco grumbled nonchalantly as he shrugged one shoulder. His sights were darkening again; he swallowed a deep gulp of air through his nose, trying to clear it. "I live with a Death Eater, a wanted man, Professor. If I do anything wrong, my life is in danger."
"You don't seem to grasp the severity of this situation, Draco," Luc murmured behind his shoulder. He swiveled his head to look at her, and swayed a little, but held it in check, letting his vision clear yet again; it was becoming tedious. "The information is fairly certain. Your father is planning to kill you."
"He's been threatening to do that since I was twelve," the blond growled, waving a hand dismissively. Luc puffed up a little, the tick on her brow strengthening. "Hell, he's been saying that to me and my mother since I before I can remember."
"Damnit, Malfoy," Luc snapped, grabbing Draco's shoulder and whirling him faster than he could adapt. This time, the darkness was permanent for a good five deep breaths, as his pulse pounded in his ears, deafening the female professor's angry words. But when everything cleared, she was kneeling before him, her eyes big and worried.
"Wha -?" he mumbled intelligibly, as the nausea struck again, harder this time, making him groan and hold his stomach.
"Malfoy, are you ill?" Snape demanded, though the tone wasn't as harsh as normal. Draco thought that was a little odd, in a different, distant sort of way; Snape was always mad, always harsh, even to him.
"Severus, I think we need to get him to the Hospital Wing," Luc stated dryly, her hand stin Drn Draco's shoulder. He wanted to shake his head; he was fine. Just tired, hungry. Lonely. Silently, he hummed over that emotion; when had he gotten lonely? He had everything he could want, didn't he? Parents, money, friends...
But he didn't, did he, now. Snape and Luc had basically said that: his father wanted him dead. His mother had basically said in the letter that she didn't want him as a Malfoy any more, that he was a disgrace. And his only 'friend' he had only gained in the last three months.
He wanted to cry, suddenly and heavily. But he was too tired; the pit of his stomach had fallen away, eating away at his spine angrily, as though the more pain it cause him, the faster it would be sated. But that wasn't true...
"Severus, he's about to pass out -."
"Calm down, Iphigenia."
Draco felt long arms under his arms and knees, and suddenly he was lifted, much as he used to be by his father when he was much younger, when he'd fallen asleep in the library or the older Malfoy's study. But now, there was no peaceful loving behind it. It was nesecity.
That made him think. He couldn't stand properly, obviously. But why was that? He'd only missed a few meals, thrown up a few times. It wasn't as if he had been hungry, looking at that food.
Before he knew it, there were more voices buzzing around him, not just those of Luc and Snape, though they were predominate throughout. But there were other ones, angry ones. Draco wondered what he'd done now. He hadn't meant to do anything wrong.
But then, it always seemed he was. People yelled around him all the time, yelled at him, locked him up.
He didn't want to be held any more. He squirmed, but couldn't seem to articulate the need to be let go.
"Just set him down over THERE, Snape, and get out of my way!"
Draco groaned a little as he was set down. He was hungry now, in a distant way that was completely detached from the rest of him; like looking at a picture through water, it was distorted, blurred.
And then the darkness overtook him completely.
~~~
Iphigenia looked up as her charge finally arrived. Harry looked vaguely confused and exponentially tired; she sighed and rolled her eyes.
"Do the students here not sleep? Are you all galivanting about, invisible, after hours? Or have you all simply decided to shock the fuck out of us porfessors by collapsing when we're trying to talk to you!?" Harry blinked blurry emerald eyes and raised a brow.
"What?"
"Nevermind!" Iphigenia waved a hand absently, before rubbing her brow, trying to ease the twitch that had developed sometime between the time Tonks had come to her the night prier and Draco had begun to black out in Snape's office. "Harry, this is going to sound like a question from a crazy woman, but... Do you hear voices?"
Harry only blinked. Iphigenia sighed, then groaned, letting out a self-mocking, sobbing laugh as she leaned back in her seat, shaking her head.
"Alright. Say it: you think I'm mad!"
"A little, Professor Luc, but no more than I did when you were going on about demons. Now, voices... You mean, like, in my own head. Or ones I'm picking up?" The woman straightened a little, giving Harry a long look. "It would be the latter, but it seems my Clairaudience orb... well, died on memetimetiast ast night."
Now she was seated fully erect, one eye brow raised in a slightly hysteric arch. The twitch had gotten stronger.
"It DIED on you?" she demanded. Harry shrugged a little.
"It doesn't work any more. I still hear things, sometimes, but I don't know why -." Iphigenia was cursing again, this time in a language Harry didn't know, or particularly care to know at that point.
"Well, it's just my luck that I the the orb to an untrained Clairaudient, isn't it?" she muttered at the end of her foreign tirade, before focusing on Harry. She worried her lips a moment, before leaning forward, clasping her hands together. "I need you to do something for me, Potter."

TBC~
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