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Sonata	By : Kalinx Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 1283 -:- 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
Author Diddy: Uh, it's sunny where I live - and this chapter was a bitch to format! *glares death at it*
Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter it would not be a childrens book...much love and adoration to JK, the mother of this masterpiece.
Warning: The following fanfic will contain references to death, suicide, self-mutalation, sex (SLASH, boy on boy action), rape, confusing ideas, and language. If I've forgotten anything, please let me know...
Key
the voice
Sonata
Four
Can't Believe
Water flowing over my dirt encrusted knuckles I start as a pair of fingers brush the nape of my neck. Silver looking up into emerald I can't help but smile softly, who would have thought that just finding Potter near me would make me smile? Scooting a bit to the side I turn my eyes back to my hands as a second pair join them under the cascade. Voice low he scrubs soap into dirt filled cuticles, "All right, I'll skip, but we have to get out of here before they notice me leaving." Gaze finding my bag I wave a wet hand at it. Understanding in his nod, Harry dries his partially cleaned hands and scoops it up.
There was still dirt on my hands. Sighing I dry them quickly and grab Harry's free hand. Firm pressure of his fingers with mine as we flit through the rest of the Herbology class. Across the greenhouse the muggle born raises the alert as his head ducks through the doorway. Moving into an easy run I actually laugh as he sprints ahead of me. One foot in the air he twirls and giggles as the Gryffindor 'police' catches sight of our silhouettes in the distance. Quirking a brow in the direction of the 'police' I follow him into a small stand of trees. "How do you plan to evade the police Potter? More talent?"
"Naw, blood." Freeze, lips tightening, I stare at him as he pulls an invisibility cloak out of his bag with a flourish. "Courtesy of my father we shall disappear and be able to walk right under their noses."
Potter senior had an invisibility cloak? Not really all that amazing, considering what both my father and my godfather have told me of him, but how did Harry get his hands on it? Sharp tug of fingers at my elbow. Ask him later, right now it was time to pretend my errant mind was not trying to convince me that the golden Gryffindor would make a tasty snack. Whisper of the cloak over my head as he and I crowd as closely together as possible.
"Slytherin end of the Quidditch pitch?" Uttering an agreement I slip an arm around his waist - to keep me from walking the wrong way. Sure Malfoy, you keep telling yourself those nice little lies and believing them.
They were heading directly at us as we began our trek towards the Quidditch pitch.
"Harry? Harry!"
"Harry mate, where'd you go?"
"Come on Harry, we saw you run off with someone."
"Harry!"
Chuckles held tightly in our throats we skirt around the edges of their scouting group.
DMHPDMHPDMHPDMHPDMHPDMHPDMHPDMHP
Cloak slipping down around our two pairs of shoes I turn a brilliant grin on the blond. An identical grin lighting his face he flops onto a bench, his hands outstretched in my direction. Slight frown marring my forehead I whisper, �Why are you being so nice to me?�
Confusion in his eyes he glances away, hands falling to his thighs. �I - I really do not know why Harry. It�s almost as if some part of me recognizes you as someone I can show the truth to without having to worry about the repercussions. As though the past five years have been a mistake, a bump in the grand scheme of things, and we were meant to become friends First Year but something got in the way.� Hands reaching back towards me he gives me a tremulous smile, �I feel like I�m trying to make up for lost time, if that makes any sort of sense.�
He�s telling� the truth ducky, an� you know you feel the same way right now.
Returning his smile I twine my fingers with his, sliding down to sit between his knees. Cheek resting against his thigh I giggle as the absurdity of the matter pops into my head. Here I was, Golden Gryffindor, Boy-Who-Lived sitting between the Prince of Slytherin's legs after we had worked together to dodge the rest of the Gryffindors. Tilting my chin up I peer beneath sloppy bangs, "This is just so different, you know? It isn�t that I doubt your actions; how can I when I feel the same way about our companionship? I just haven�t had a very trusting upbringing and sometimes those memories get in the way of what I know I should believe."
Soft caress of his fingers against my cheek. �Will you tell me?�
Dropping my eyes I snake an arm around his hips and burrow closer to his body. I really did feel comfortable being alone with him. Breath whistling between my lips I clutch at the robes against his hip. "It's always been bad at my Aunt and Uncle's house, they�re muggles you understand? They hate us - the Wizarding world - always have, think we�re freaks of nature. Had hated my parents before they were married. I think they really hate the whole inferiority of it. I mean, my parents, these freaks, could make things happen with a wave of a hand and a few funny words, and they, the upstanding muggles that they are, couldn�t.
�Then they got saddled with me. Must�ve felt gratified that their hatred was justified, the freaks got themselves blown up. I guess that justification was their sign to make my life a living hell. After all, I was the offspring of an unnatural union, no matter that I was part their blood. They wanted nothing to do with me.
�Until I met Hagrid I never had anyone I could call a friend, my cousin turned every child at our primary school away from me. Said I was a freak. Did you know I spent the first eleven years of my life living in a broom closet under the stairs? They didn't deem me to be a high enough life form to deserve an actual bedroom. The clothing I was �given� were - are hand me downs from my cousin, I don't rate new clothes in their eyes. If my glasses broke, which they did, I taped them back together and hoped they would last.
�As soon as they found me old enough I began doing all of the housework. Gardening, cooking, cleaning, washing, ironing, schoolwork, all of it was my responsibility. One mistake and I would go a week without food or sunlight. Vernon would lock me in my �room� and Dudley would spend hours outside it laughing at me, calling me a freak.
"Around the time I turned ten my uncle got fed up with something I did - prolly forgot to butter the proper side of my cousin's toast - and he took me into the basement and slammed me into a wall. Before my letter the beatings or violence were limited to only a few times a month - after, well, that was their favorite way to punish me for being born the way I was. They let up for a bit after Mad-Eye threatened them, but only for a bit. Then it got worse.
"The cutting, it was - is a way to prove to myself that I'm real. For me to find that piece of me that they can't get. The only part I can keep from them. I started the summer after my first year here; but until this summer it wasn�t that bad. I cut rarely, and lightly - now," shrug my shoulders loosely, �now, I find I need the release it brings more often.�
Falling silent I close my eyes, unshed tears burning against my eyelids, waiting for the disgust to come from Malfoy.
Carding a hand through my hair he inquires, "And then when you came here, hoping it would be an escape, only to find out that we all knew more about 'you' then you did? Found out that who you were wasn't anything like what you were supposed to be like?"
"Mm, here I'm the Boy-Who-Lived, great defeater of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. There I'm freak, filth, and any number of other names. Never Harry Potter, just plain Harry - me."
"You came into our world knowing nothing, to find you had a reputation to live up to, and you haven't thrown a fit yet? Haven't demanded that they leave you be? Let you choose your own path?"
I like him ducky, he�s got the right idea �bout you an� your livin� your own life.
Snort rudely in response to both comments, "Not quite, I gave old twinkle eyes a big chunk of my mind at the end of last year. Told him I was tired of being manipulated in his childish games. Should have seen his face, looked like his eyes were about to pop out. Until then I think he still saw me as poor, young Harry Potter, boy I saved from the pressures of growing up in the Wizarding world's public eye. Afterwards, I honestly don't know what he thinks of me right now, haven't made my 'traditional' pilgrimage to his office."
"Were you going to?" Look up into his face in question. "I can go with you - if you'd like that is - to you know, 'protect' you from his manipulative ways?"
Slight shrug of my shoulders, "Not sure, I'll drop you an owl if I decide to."
"Sounds good, wouldn't want Wonder Boy to go mad and command all the snakes to attack the Headmaster," he teases, ruffling my hair.
"Hey! You're messing my hair up!"
"Pift!" Pale arms twist around my shoulders as a chin settles against the top of my head. "As if it were possible to mess your hair up anymore than it already is Potty." Growl at him, impertinent Slytherin. "Say Harry?"
"Mm?"
"I don�t know if this is too much to ask this early in our companionship, but might I use you as a sounding board for my own ranting without having to worry that they will end up in the castle�s gossip chain?"
Wiggle a bit under his chin and tilt my own head up. Mouths inches apart I meet his eyes a blend of fear and hope within them. Darting forward I peck his cheek, "I'd be honored to have you rant and rave at me whenever you need to." Gracing me with a brilliant, pureblood perfect smile he tucks my head back under his chin. Blink. Wait, did I just kiss his cheek? What the - was I coming down with something? But it felt like the right thing to do at that split second. Wonder Boy indeed, more like Completely-Losing-His-Mind Boy. Or maybe, The-Boy-Who-Comforted-Malfoy. Snicker - oh crap, he might take that the wrong way. "Damn my mind, why can't I ever think without making myself laugh?"
Huff of a snort, "You're Wonder Boy, the ultimate in heroic Gryffindors."
"Does that explain everything?"
"Obviously."
"Gee thanks ferret."
"My pleasure, someone has to do it you know."
You know, with this truce it was a whole lot more fun to throw taunts and snips back and forth.
DMHPDMHPDMHPDMHPDMHPDMHPDMHPDMHP
Why was I suddenly so comfortable around him? This was insane. I was sitting behind the Slytherin side of the pitch with Harry bloody Potter between my legs, his arms around my hips and my chin on his head. Gods, if anyone ever gets wind of this we are so dead. But the funny thing was, I had no problem with it. What I had told Harry in answer to his question was the way I really felt, odd as it was. Might as well make use of it and get some of this weight off of my chest.
"As a child I idolized my father. He was the best thing in the world to me. Everyday he would come into my room and wake me up with our serpent. When I was still young enough he'd even give me a, I think muggles call it a piggyback ride, down to the hall for breakfast. My earliest memories are of his voice telling me stories and the way the Wizarding world would be when I grew up.
�True, I was raised with the understanding that I was, and am, a Pureblood with the responsibilities of one. Knowing the need for me, as the only Malfoy child, to produce an heir to continue the line. But my childhood was relatively nice.
�There were some outbursts between my parents, Father shouting that she had taken away the love of his life. Mother would always counter that with a quirked brow, saying if he really felt it necessary, to invite said lover to the Manor for dinner. It was rather amusing to watch all the anger leave Father�s face that quickly. He always got quiet after that.
�I think they were honestly glad, if not relieved, that the Dark Lord was out of the picture for the time. Things had not been going the way Father thought they would, and raising a child in that atmosphere was not something either wanted. Particularly if he was a member of the Dark Lord�s First Rank.
�But then we started to hear rumors that You-Know-Who had come back right around the time I received my Hogwarts letter. Father, he changed after we heard the rumors. Became someone who held an ultimate hatred for anyone but the Purebloods willing to aid Him. Mother told me once, she thought I was sleeping, that this was the way he had acted before The Dark Lord vanished the night He killed your parents.
"Did you know he told me - no, ordered me to befriend you First year? I was so scared that Father would hate me for failing him so I set out to make your life miserable, hoping that my actions would save me from losing the one thing I feared losing most.
"Making you miserable helped a bit, but Father was still angry. I think he has this impression that I didn't befriend you out of spite towards Him. If I had to pick a moment in my past that brought on the cutting I would have to pick that summer after First year as the turning point.
�Father though, he was almost like I remembered him until Fourth year. Yes, he was a tad bit fanatical over you and the whole Boy-Who-Lived thing but he was still Father. Now - now he's loyal Death Eater to Him. Even my godfather cannot reason with him. They were lovers at our age, my godfather and Father. Godfather was the lover Father spoke of when he yelled at Mother That's why Father named him my godfather. A desperate, love lost attempt to keep him close to himself. I�m not sure what happened to separate the two of them, according to Mother they were like soul mates until her marriage to Father.
"So I'm trapped dancing different steps for each person, much like you and the Boy-Who-Lived persona. The loyal, ever obedient son whose only goal is to spite Wonder Boy. Sneering Slytherin Prince to the House and my godfather. And now, now ranting chap to Boy-Who-Lived-To-Make-Lives-Miserable, Harry Potter. Wonder what my godfather would say if he found out about that last one? Any ideas Harry?"
Squirming under my chin he stokes my jaw and smiles, "Maybe if I knew who he was I could make a better guess? Mi-mine would have had a fit if h-he could see this." His eyes were dark with sorrow at that.
"Harry? You have a godfather?"
"Naw, h-had one." Slow, shuddering breath as a tear slips down his face. "He d-di-died last year."
Dammit, I had not meant to upset him with my curiosity. Shoving off the bench I drag him into my lap, a hand on the back of his head.
"Salazar, I'm sorry I even spoke of it." Tears coursing out of his eyes he buries his face against my shoulder, a muffled apology for his tears making me frown. Why would he be apologizing
for his own tears? For grieving for someone who must have meant a lot to him? "Sh, sh, I've got you, just let yourself cry. There is nothing wrong with mourning a loss in this manner. No one's going to laugh or gossip about this. I'll kill anyone who tries. That's my promise to you; anyone who dares strike at this wound will die by my wand or my bare hands. I promise you Harry."
"Even me Malfoy?" a molten voice inquires from behind us.
Bloody hell, I hadn�t heard him arrive, no matter. Cradling Harry�s shaking form in my arms I lift my eyes to the pure black of my godfather's. He was standing, arms crossed over his chest, the customary scowl locked in place. In my arms Harry was going dead still as the voice struck a familiar cord. Fury burning my voice I hiss, "Even you Sev, even you." Turn back to the boy frozen in hatred and fear, soft croon of words in his ear. "Sh Harry, I promised you remember? No one, not even my godfather, will hurt you with the loss of your own godfather."
"Draco,have you any idea what his godfather was?" There was a cold anger in Sev's question, an anger born for years if I'm not missing my guess. "His godfather was a mangy, good for nothing -"
Snarl and tighten my hold on the now furious Gryffindor, "I don't bloody care who he is or was! I gave my promise and I will damn well keep to it!"
Tearing himself from my embrace Harry grabs at his wand, hissing and spitting searing sounding words at my godfather in Parseltongue . White knuckled fingers grip his wand as he snarls, "You bastard! I swore I wouldn't take any more of your hated remarks over him! I don't care what he did to you when you were kids, he was all I had! All I had, do you understand that? There is nothing, absolutely nothing you can take from me anymore! I have nothing! I am nothing!"
Leaping to his feet he levels his wand at my godfather's heart, eyes sparking with lightning. "You can take all the bloody points you want Snape, I don't care! I have nothing to gain from winning or losing the House Cup! Take my broom, keep me from playing Quidditch, for Godric's sake, fucking throw one of the Unforgivables at me! But never, NEVER insult Siri again or so help me, I will do to you what Voldemort did to my parents!"
Heart stopping at his proclamation I watch as his wand slips from numb fingers and he crumbles to the grass. Fists pounding at the dirt he screams and sobs, great soul tearing bursts of pain. Jaw slack Sev stares at him. Serves him right, he knew who Harry's godfather was and he used it to hurt him. Folding to his side Harry pulls his knees to his chest.
"Oh god why does it still hurt so much? How can you still do this to me Siri? Siri?" Hiccupping he whimpers. "Siri - Siri - Siri - "
Siri? Could he mean Sirius Black? Was he Harry's godfather? But he betrayed his parents, didn't he? Hand brushing my shoulder hesitantly my godfather slips to his knees beside me, his scowl replaced with subtle concern backed by an unnamable emotion. "Draco, why does Potter have those bandages on his wrists?"
Laugh strangling out from between hiccups and sobs Harry hisses, "Why do you think almighty Potions Master? Heard of a razorblade before?" He was going to make himself sick if he kept this up. Crawling to him I lay my head on his chest. Fingers move to tangle in my hair as he chokes another bitter laugh out at Sev's expression. "Godric's sake Snape," tearing the gauze off his right wrist he bares the fresh, ugly dark red carvings, "That's why. Fancy the looks I'd be getting without the bandages?"
Shifting over one of his legs I curl my fingers against his neck, my body draped over his from his thighs to the bottom of his ribcage. "Harry, I can feel your ribs against my heek."
"Yeah, Dursley's fault. Can't eat much when you're locked in your room with the window barred and boarded over."
Lifting my lip I snarl, "If I ever see them they are dead without question."
Stomach bouncing with a laugh - one that's not filled with bitterness - he mutters, "Did I mention I 'accidentally' turned my Aunt into a huge, inflated muggle right before Third year?"
"You did what?"
"Cast a spell on her that managed to blow her up into a big, hot air filled blimp."
"Did not!"
"Too, ask the silent Professor. Incidentally, I think I shook him up a bit much with that display."
Eyes lit by a frightening expression Sev blinks rapidly. Coughing to clear his throat my godfather inquires dryly, "You two are aware that this looks ridiculously bad to anyone who happens to pop in? Seriously, Draco, could you drape yourself over him anymore?"
Scooting up so my hips rest on his thighs I press a kiss to the junction of his throat and jaw. "We could be stark nude Sev, think on that one."
Hacking my godfather, his Potions Master, glares at us, as he turns slightly purple.
DMHPDMHPDMHPDMHPDMHPDMHPDMHPDMHP
Watch as my godson rewraps Potter�s arms, a silent witness to how far he has fallen. Merlin, he�s just like me, drawn to comfort of the blade. Chest hurting at the wash of memories revived by the sight of fresh lines I lift my fingers, tangling them in my hair. What am I going to do? Dumbledore cannot know of this side to hid Golden Boy, and Potter - if he�s anything like me, he won�t want a whisper of this outside of conversations he invites. Haunted thoughts dancing in my mind I frown as Potter lifts one of my godson�s wrists to his lips, pressing a kiss to the fragile skin. Draco? Not you too? May the Dark Lord shoot me down if your father ever learns of this. My poor godson, every time I look at you I can�t help but see your father reflected in you. Releasing my hair I keep my gaze vacant as his silver eyes lift to stare at me, fright softening as he catches sight of my thumb running back and forth over my right forearm.
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Sonata