Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

One That Stood Alone	By : tsubasagahoushi Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 1867 -:- 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
Title: One That Stood Alone
Author: tsubasagahoushi
Pairings: Harry/Draco, Hermione/Ron, and maybe some more later on
Disclaimer: I am a poor, poor college student who does not own anything... much less the rights to these characters. Those are all the great genius of J.K. Rowling and the respective publishers...
A/N: Thanks for the reviews and sorry it took so long to upload the next chapter, guys. x.x;; School is starting up and I got a new kitten so I've been kinda busy- rest assured, I will finish this fic tho.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry walked the halls leading to the Head Boy's room. His stomach was twisting uncontrollably and he hadn't managed to eat anything today. Ron avoided him, apparently sore about Harry's comment at the Three Broomsticks. Somehow, he couldn't bring himself to care. If anything, Ron would be better off without him; Harry knew what was going to happen this year and didn't plan on bringing anyone with him other than Voldemort.

Passing the Head Girl's chambers, Harry paused momentarily. Hermione had tried to talk to him but he hadn't responded. Harry had kept to himself in his room since returning to Hogwarts yesterday. He hated the pained expression Hermione wore when he told her nothing was wrong- just to leave him alone. Being Hermione, thankfully, she let him be for the time being. She seemed to understand better the need for isolation. Harry doubted her understanding would last that long. His tired charade would have to continue soon enough.

Reaching the elaborate doorway of the Head Boy's room, Harry reached one hand out to knock. He had left his invisibility cloak behind in his trunk, not caring whether he was seen or not. It was late but still before curfew for seventh years. A sudden yearning for it struck him, almost similar to a child's security blanket. The door opened and Harry squashed all feelings of weakness. Now was not the time, nor would be later.

"Potter."

"Malfoy."

"Do come in," Draco drawled, stepping back from the doorway to allow for the Gryffindor to enter. Harry hesitated before briskly stepping inside. Draco tore his gaze from the other boy and shut the door behind them. They were alone. Draco pushed down the immediate thoughts this fact brought to mind, and instead focused on the real reason he had wanted to talk to Potter.

Harry looked about the room; it was beautiful. There was a cool sort of elegance to the decorum- silver and green accentuated the rich black of the sofas and chairs. There were stone walls with elaborate figures atop a very ornate fireplace. Harry had visited Hermione's rooms and they had been similar but less, well, elegant and elaborate. Entranced by the spiraling stone snake about the mantel, Harry reached out one hand to rest on the serpent's upraised head.

"They're enchanted to appeal to personal taste." Harry turned when the familiar cold voice spoke, momentarily have forgotten where he was and why he stood in Malfoy's private rooms. Draco ran a hand through his hair when Harry's attention focused on him. "The rooms, I mean. For Head Boy and Head Girl." Draco chastised himself for the nervous babble, even though it had been in his usual drawl. Hopefully Potter would think the chatter to be just another sneering Malfoy comment. Emerald eyes narrowed and the raven haired boy stood straighter, shoulders back in a defensive stance.

"What was it that you wanted, Malfoy?" His voice lacked its usual threatening demeanor. The spark was gone from those eyes once more, leaving them tired and worn. It caused his chest to ache but the Slytherin merely plopped into one of the leather armchairs, legs dangling off the armrest.

"If you hadn't noticed, Potter, I am walking about in perfect health when not three days prior I was on my death bed." Harry shifted, eyebrows knit together in confusion. He had been curious as to how Malfoy had recovered so quickly but did not dwell on it, instead glad that the blond was not bleeding away in some secret room in the infirmary. That fact alone still evaded him; Harry didn't know why he suddenly thought about Malfoy in any other way than pure annoyance and anger.

"I wondered... about that." Harry's voice dropped in pitch. Averting his gaze from the blond, Harry focused on a painting across the room of a storm enchanted to rage continually. Silence hung heavy in the room.

"What's your connection to the Dark Lord, Potter?" One eyebrow raised in question, Harry focused his attention back on the Slytherin who was now sitting correctly in the chair, leaning forward and looking up at him in wait for the answer.

"I would think you'd know that by now, Malfoy. He killed my parents, making me the only one to ever survive the killing curse. Really, haven't you heard the stories?" He tapped his scar with one finger, sarcasm in every word that came from his mouth. Draco rolled his eyes and stood. Harry felt his body stiffen when Draco moved closer to him, stopping mere inches away. One pale manicured hand rested against his chest, sending waves of heat flooding throughout the raven haired boy's body.

"And what about this one?" Harry licked his lips in a vain attempt at wetting his suddenly dry mouth to form words. It was all Draco could do to restrain himself from slamming the green-eyed boy against the wall and claim them for his own. So long he had yearned for Potter's attention. At first it was a child's longing for friendship. Then it turned bitter... in fact, Draco wasn't sure when that bitterness had been mixed with the irresistable desire to ravage the boy. That was all it was; he wanted to claim those lips and break the Boy Who Lived. At least that was what his logical mind processed the strange emotions as. Long lashes hung over emerald as Harry looked down where Draco's hand pressed against him.

"Similar story." Memories flashed across his mind. Pain and crimson staining his chest. Ancient words. His very soul feeling as though it was being pulled from his body. Harry stepped backwards, the pale hand falling back to its place at the blond's side. Harry raked one hand through his hair angrily in attempts to bury the feelings and memories. He did not want to think about what had happened last year; it was in the past and wouldn't happen again. He had the constant reminder of his mistake stretched across his chest.

Taking interest in the snake winding its way about the fireplace, Harry changed topics before the Slytherin could pry further. "So, how did you get better?"

"That's what I would like to know." The sound of Malfoy plopping back into the leather sofa was all that could be heard. Usually their meetings were filled with conversation- typically of the shouting variety. Now there was a sort of heaviness to the unexpected silence which held far more than just house animosity. "Your blood. It was able to work as a replacement of sorts for Voldemort's. Afterall, it was that mad, old coot who placed the curse upon me in the first place." Harry's back stiffened as the words pierced through the silence. His hand slid from the head of the serpent, clenching into a pained fist. Closing his eyes, Harry pushed down the flare of anger which threatened to spill forth. So the new scar was not the only thing Voldemort had left with him. He was now connected to the Dark Lord on a far more intimate level; he had left his blood pulsing throughout Harry's body. What more had the bastard left inside him?

When his eyes opened, they were met with emerald glittering back at him through the mirror resting over the fireplace. His complexion seemed drained and dead, accentuated by the frame of unruly black hair. He and Voldemort were one in the same when you thought about it. No matter how much Harry tried to push himself away from the Dark Lord, they were inextricably tied. His eyes seemed to glitter back at him in agreement as if saying it was true; there was no way out other than death. Eventually, Harry would become Voldemort as last year had threatened. It had already begun.

Draco's eyebrows raised in surprise when the sound of shattered glass pulled him from his thoughts. There was the following patter of blood as it dripped onto the stone floor accompanied by the tinkling of falling glass. Languidly moving from the sofa to the brooding boy, Draco stepped directly behind the Gryffindor. Their cloaks brushed against one another and Draco leaned in close, dipping his face into the black feathers of Potter's head. He rubbed his face against the soft hair, a reassuring hum escaping his lips. This was the first emotional outburst from Harry he had witnessed since fifth year. It seemed all the anger he had been filled with then had drained from his body, leaving an empty shell in its wake. The only time the blond Slytherin could see the familiar spark of life in the other boy's eyes was when his godfather was mentioned. He did not wish to see Potter like this; he deserved better. They all did.

Harry leaned into the warmth at his back. There was something oddly reassuring in the touch. It was only then that he realized this was the first human contact he had since Sirius' death. He knew it was his fault; Harry had been cold towards any sign of affection since the... event, but somewhere inside him he craved the warmth of another. His own warmth had long since faded and the cold threatened to eternally freeze his soul. In a way, it already had.

There was no need for him to hold his smile here, no need for him to play the hero. Here with Draco he was just another jaded boy with far too much on their plate. There was no sympathy, no yearning hope for him to succeed. He leaned his head back further, allowing for the blond to brush his lips against Harry's face, trailing down the side of his neck.

"You saved me." Pale hands turned him around, emerald eyes meeting the heavy gaze of mercury. "For that I am forever grateful." Harry was pushed backwards against the fireplace, the mantle jabbing into his back but he did not care. Their lips found one another in a rush of passion. Tongues wrestled as hands caressed. His breathing quickened and he moaned into the Slytherin boy's mouth. There was a lustful smile in those mercury eyes. Soft pale hands dipped into his cloak, roaming new territory. Harry gasped as the hot mouth trailed wet kisses down his neck. There was a playful nip of the teeth before his skin was being sucked, the tongue trailing circles which nearly drove him mad.

Draco's hands found what they were searching for amongst the robes and shirt. Beneath was a sweet expanse of muscled skin which seemed a bit too stretched across the lean frame, allowing a rib or two to show. They danced along Harry's sides, one finding what it truly wished for and fingering the taut nipple. Harry's body bucked under the sensation, pushing their hips tight against one another. The serpent head along the mantle dug deeper into his back surely to leave a trail of bruises later.

"Anytime," Harry's voice was deep, laced with the heady stupor of a clouded mind. His hands circled the slim Head Boy's waist, pulling their aroused selves together. Neither seemed to care that crimson stained both cloth and skin from the freely flowing cuts on Harry's hand. Draco let out a moan, his lips returning to the swollen ones of the raven haired boy against him.

"Anytime... what?" The Gryffindor's hands slid beneath Draco's shirt, pushing at the waistband of the cursed trousers which separated them. Harry pulled back from the kiss, the first genuine smile gracing his lips since fifth year. His eyes sparkled, his hair tousled even more than usual.

"I'll save you." There was determination behind the husky words. Draco felt his heart constrict and skirted the heavy feeling in his chest. His throat locked up at the emotion in those emerald eyes. They spoke the truth. This was no mere promise gasped in a heated snogging session; Harry Potter was telling him he would save him. It scared him. It was too strong, too serious. He managed a sly curve of the lips.

"Save yourself, Potter." The usual drawl was back in his voice, laced with the deep sound of need. Before the other boy could think much on his words, Draco's hand slid down the expanse of torso and discovered the bulge beneath. There was the sound of a zipper being undone before Harry's world exploded before his very eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Bloody hell! Harry, mate, what happened to your back?" Harry turned, towel about his waist and another atop his head, tousling the wet hair dry.

"I fell. Earlier in the week. I was getting in some extra practice before the season started and fell off my broom. Just an accident." Ron whistled, grimacing at the bruises which were turning yellow and brown in their time of healing.

"Sure you don't want Pomfrey to look at that?" The ghost of a smile was on his lips and he shook his head. If Ron had seen some of the marks he bore at the Dursleys over the years he would have fainted. The redhead merely nodded, turning back to pull on his uniform before dinner. Harry's gaze dropped and he went about the motions of getting dressed in the same daze he had done all else in the past week. Malfoy hadn't spoken to him once since that night. No explanation, nothing. Harry had tried to talk to him alone but the blond was never without Blaise or some other Slytherins and wasn't answering his door. Harry had given up. He wasn't sure why he even had such strong feelings in the first place. It was just... with Draco- Malfoy- he had felt alive. The only other time he felt close to that...

Harry pulled the long-sleeved shirt over his self-made scars, buttoning the ends. Surprisingly none of the others had noticed them. They didn't seem to think it odd that Harry always had long sleeves- even when school had begun and the summer was still holding onto the last remnances of heat. It was better this way in the long run.

He waved Ron on to dinner, telling him that he had to meet with Luminos again. Although he hadn't told Hermione and Ron exactly what he was doing with the Dark Arts professor each week, they seemed to understand it was more than just course scheduling. The emptiness in his gut expanded as Harry headed to the classroom. It had nothing to do with the fact that he had barely eaten. This was the same hollow space which had fixed itself into his heart over the summer. Harry hadn't realized it had been filled until the emptiness returned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Draco, love, you're staring." He pulled his eyes from the vacant seat at the Gryffindor table and glared at the food as though it had been the one to catch him in the act. Cutting his food into delicate bits, he slowly continued the tedious task of eating. There was the faintest of sighs which only he could hear before Pansy continued to eat with just as much precision and delicate care.

"You could speak with him-"

"You don't know what you're talking about, Pansy dear." Pansy only pursed her lips in disapproval of the growled response. She had followed him back to his rooms as was usual after dinner. Pansy had been paying him more visits recently, since she could barely stomach being around her usual Slytherin lot; she had discovered over the past week they all were, in fact, in favor of the Dark Lord's complete return to power. Sodding idiots, the whole lot of them.

Draco stormed into his room leaving Pansy to close the door. She inwardly sighed. He was highly agitated she could tell that much. Something more than his little skirmish with Potter had to have taken place in the past week. Not that she was supposed to know of said skirmish- or more likely a very heated snog. However, she had grown up with Draco as a child and could read him better than others. Something of that nature had obviously occurred with the Boy Who Lived, leaving the blond very tense, indeed.

"Draco, you're going to wear a hole in the floor."

"It's stone, Pansy."

"I know." He let out a long suffering sigh before throwing himself onto the leather sofa. Lips pursed in thought, she moved forward to sit on one of the plush armchairs. And waited. Draco's brow was creased and she noticed the fading magic of a glamour charm meant to keep the bags from his porcelain skin. He hadn't been sleeping. This was worse than she thought. Placing one hand in front of her for inspection, she idly began grooming her nails. It would do no good to force him to talk; she had to wait for him to break.

"He hasn't been to any meals today. Barely showed up to any the entire week." Pansy made a disinterested sound of aggreement and continued to study her nails. Draco's glare bore holes into the ceiling above him. His jaw was clenched and his head ached. The blasted prat was starving himself. He had felt the thin torso and it was a little too much even for him. The thought brought back the events which had led to this discovery and he clenched his teeth, a hiss escaping his lips. Pansy looked at him over her nails and raised her eyebrows delicately.

"Do you need help with that, Draco?" He glared at her and pulled his robes over himself. Bloody Potter. Blasted offensive git. How dare he just glide into his world and turn it upside down. How dare he give up so easily. But the nagging voice which was his rational mind told Draco that one Harry Potter had entered his world long before last week. And he had been the one to avoid any possible interaction with the raven haired youth.

The silence settled back into the room. It wasn't an uncomfortable one, nor was it heavy with the tension between himself and Potter. He and Pansy had always been at ease in one another's company. She would make a fine wife someday; he just hoped it wouldn't have to be with him. Of course, seeing as how she was of one of the more prestigious pureblood families, it was inevitable that his father would expect them to marry. Arrange it even. Then again, Milicent Bulstrode was of pureblood as well. Pansy would be far better than that beast. No matter what his parents' decision, he would have no other choice than to accept it. He mentally growled at the thought of his father regaining control of his life. Why couldn't he have stayed in Azkaban? The words from the letter burned into his mind and he closed his eyes, trying to pull some sense of calm from the silence.

It wasn't working.

"I don't like it, Pansy." She forced down an exasperated sigh. Draco's ability to speak as though you should know his every thought could become slightly aggravating when one was pressing for information.

"What would that be, love?" Draco's gaze remained on the ceiling, the tension draining from his body in waves of hopeless defeat. It wasn't as though there were any other possible solutions.

"The rules of being Slytherin." She closed her eyes in understanding. She had guessed it when Draco received an owl from his father some days prior but wasn't sure. Self-preservation was one of the first rules of a Slytherin. Save yourself and let others worry about themselves; it wasn't your responsibility. She stood, crossing the small distance to sit on the edge of the sofa next to the blond boy. Up close she could see the stray emotion leaking through the icy blue eyes. Being Slytherin meant you trusted few- mostly no one. There was always someone to take you down, so you had to be sure you struck first.

She leaned down, her scarlet lips brushing against the pale forehead. There was more to being Slytherin than that. There were other aspects but none that were openly shown to others. She smiled against his skin, pulling back so that their noses brushed. Draco and she had several experimental snogs, but no real relationship ever sprung between them. She had been willing- still was- but his mind had always been elsewhere.

"Protecting what is yours is another rule of being Slytherin." She lightly brushed her lips against his in a chaste kiss of friendship. Standing, she let her hand stroke his hair gently before turning to leave. She would give him his space. Only Draco could decide for himself what he would do. If he truly cared for Potter then it would be seen.

Draco lay there, staring across the room at nothing in particular. Thoughts of tired claims came to mind. Harry had been covered in his blood. His. Harry's blood in his mouth, the sour, salty tang of his life against his tongue. His. Eyes narrowing, he pushed himself off from the sofa in one fluid motion.

He needed to speak with Sev.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Expelliarmus!" There was a crash as the spell hit the desk behind him, sending papers and books flying into the air.

"Stupefy!" It was deflected, but not as easily as last time.

"Waddiwasi!" Harry's eyes opened in shock as he pulled up a shield just in time to block the spear which had come sailing straight for him from across the room. There was a feral grin from the professor before another spell was cast. "Stupefy!" It soared at him not three seconds after the first. The spell hit Harry and he fell backwards, blinking his eyes in stunned confusion. It had been cast practically right after the first, meaning Luminos had expected him to block the spear and not evade it. The outstretched hand came into focus and he reached out for the help.

"Good show, Harry! That had to have been twice as long as last week." There were slight beads of perspiration on the older man's face, and Harry had to take satisfaction in the fact that at least he had been able to make him break a sweat. Last week their duel had lasted no longer than five minutes. Luminos led Harry over to two desks at which he fell into. Letting out a loud groan, it was followed by strong laughter.

"Really, I never thought a Rictusempra combined with a good Impedimenta could cause such lovely waves of pain. Laughter really could kill, eh?" Harry nodded, the smallest of worn smiles on his lips. He sat at the opposite desk, his gaze directed at the floor. His body ached from the duel but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle. "Here." Harry looked at the plate which had suddenly appeared in front of him- no doubt due to the house elves.

"Professor...?"

"Luminos, please." Harry corrected himself, watching as the man began to shovel food into his mouth from his own plate. His eating habits somehow reminded Harry of the Weasley twins and he suppressed a chuckle.

"What is this for-"

"You need to eat, Harry. Even when you don't feel like it." The room grew quiet, only the sounds of forks hitting plates breaking the stillness. The food felt like lead as it sank into his stomach and Harry grimaced. He had just grown used to a lack of food and now that it was available, he hadn't been able to stomach it. Forcing several more forkfuls down, he lectured himself. Just because he didn't want to eat hadn't meant he shouldn't. He couldn't remember when was the last time he had truly eaten; last week at the Three Broomsticks was the first that came to mind. Mechanically going about finishing the potatoes, Harry placed his fork down once finished. Luminos had long emptied his plate and the silverware was gone as fast as it had arrived.

"He would have wanted you to live, Harry." His throat tightened and the familiar twist of his heart tore at the raven haired boy. His jaw firm, he stood and said his goodbyes to the professor. The only problem was Harry didn't know how to live and never had.

The mahogany haired man let out a hiss when the door slammed shut behind his student.

"Luminos, you fool."

Harry was heading for the common room when another idea struck him. The emptiness was too strong and he had to make sure. Had to prove his existence. Turning from the next staircase, he took a different path leading to the owlery.

Hedwig flew through one of the large windows looking very fussy. It seemed she had been looking for him all day and hadn't been able to locate him. Perching on Harry's shoulder, she outstretched one foot with the attached letter. Apologizing, Harry took the rolled parchment from her leg before giving her some of the treats which rested in bags along the wall. She ate them quickly, giving him a peck on his cheek before flying up to her resting perch.

The letter was from Cho.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Father,

I am honored that our Lord still finds me worthy of servitude. I do not wish to dishonor our family name further; it has already been dragged through the mud enough. My previous thoughts were of a naive boy who did not truly grasp the situation at hand. I hope my position is still available as you have suggested it to be. Allow me another opportunity to take the esteemed place at both your side and our Lord.

Your Son,
Draco Malfoy

Draco looked over the letter once more. One eyebrow raised in approval of his written words, he made his way to the owlery. It was late and he doubted anyone else would be there at this hour. As Head Boy, if he were to be caught by any professor he could merely give some excuse of running a forgotten errand. Not that he was really bothered by that fact; no, his heart was beating slightly erratically because of what he was about to send.

His owl flew down from its place once noticing the platinum hair shimmer in the moonlight. Tying the note to the owl's strong leg, Draco whispered its destination.

"Malfoy Manor." A crash echoed throughout the owlery, causing a massive ruffling of feathers and hoots of disapproval. Draco whirled, his own owl already out the window on its way to deliver the letter. "Who's there?!" He was glad that his voice was its usual icy tone and hadn't given away any sign of the rapid pounding in his chest. Wand drawn, Draco slowly rounded the corner with a curse on his lips. Whoever had been up here this late was going to pay for it dearly. Oh, bloody fucking hell.

"Potter! What are you doing here at this hour?" Harry was leaning against the wall, his chest rising and falling a bit too quickly for normalcy. Draco took a hesitant step forward, his wand lowered at his side. Something dark and slick stained the stone walls. His throat tightened. He hoped it wasn't what he thought it was.

"Volde..mort... he's..." Harry's eyes clenched closed in pain as another wave of agony slammed through his body. His forehead felt as though it was going to split open. Images played across his closed eyelids. There was a family. Muggles. They were being tortured. Cruciatus. A scream tore from Harry's throat when the pain slammed into his chest as well. He no longer felt the stone wall against his side but instead was in the home. He was there; he was one with Voldemort just as it had been when Neville was killed.

This was just a normal muggle family. What was Voldemort doing here for such things? It was only then that he noticed the two large figures attempting to hide the small woman. Massive figures. One with broad shoulders which had once been mere lumps of flesh barely distinguishable from the round form.
"We have nothing to do with the boy! He is gone from our care!" Harry jerked at this; it was Uncle Vernon. He felt himself chuckle but it wasn't his voice. This was the throaty cackle of a serpent about to strike. His- no, Voldemort's- wand was outstretched at Vernon's head. Harry felt his lips forming the words and he tried in vain to stop them.
"Avada Kedavra."

Draco had moved forward to catch the falling boy without thought. Shifting the limp figure in his arms, his eyes narrowed when he noticed where the slick shine on the wall had come from. Cursed Granger and Weasley. Wasn't this their job as Harry's friends to notice such a thing?! Growling, he lifted Harry with less strain than it should have taken. The fact that he could carry him so easily only fueled his anger towards Harry's alleged friends. Stumbling from the owlery, he made his way to the first place he could think of in his anger. It may not have been the most rational of places but something had to be done immediately and he wanted the prats to witness what they had been avoiding.

"Bloody open up, Granger!" He kicked the door once more with his foot as Harry spasmed for the fifth time since their mad rush from the owlery. The door opened and Draco pushed past the bushy-haired girl with a growl. Marching directly over to her sofa, he placed Harry down on it and whirled, not at all surprised to be greeted by both the Weasel and the Mudblood.

"What the hell is happening to Potter?!"
- 4
- 5
- 6
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

One That Stood Alone