Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Stream of Consciousness	By : AngelNarcissa90 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 12234 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does. Neither do I profit from the pleasurable experience of writing. Warning: Rape and Abuse Featured.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Sorry about the cliff hanger before, there is no way that I’d let Draco die like that. This chapter has to be edited. I just wanted to upload it. I am traveling to Italy and Paris for the next few days and then heading back to the States, it may be a while before I can upload again.
On with the fic…

ooOOOOOOooooo
All Grown Up in One Summer
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Ron paced back and forth in front of the fireplace. Harry was not sure what bothered him more the fact that Ron kept doing it and wouldn’t stop or the fact that he was still keeping his silent grudge. Hermione had told him to wait Ron out and that it was nothing more than a repeat of fourth year. Harry was not very sure if this was the same thing, but he trusted her nonetheless.
Details about the allegedly poisoned veritaserum had surfaced in The Daily Prophet. But in reality nothing had been tainted. The potion had been made and guarded perfectly. Draco’s body hadn’t been well enough to handle the overpowering influence of the drug to relax. The Daily Prophet wondered whether that was a result of a guilty conscience begging for peace or an innocent mind tired of the struggle. Harry was sure that Draco suffered from the latter. Harry was still unable to physically visit Draco as he was currently being confined to Malfoy Manor. His home had been thoroughly searched by specially trained Aurors and Lucius himself had aided in that endeavor earning him points in the Wizengamot’s trial against him.
Harry had testified at the trial and surprisingly the witches and wizards, top officials that they were listened to his plea of time served and granted Lucius his freedom. His ability to purchase a newly made wand was limited to a provisional wand for the use of simple spells. Lucius was sentenced to a ten year probationary period.
Fudge had made sure to add that as some form of punishment. Fudge hadn’t looked too pleased with the overall outcome of the Malfoy trials because none of them were in Azkaban. Narcissa was set free because of the invaluable help she had given Harry by lying to Voldemort. This allowed Harry to pretend that he was dead and go on to fight Voldemort in the final duel. Harry smiled at the thought as he turned the glass in his hand wishing he knew more of Draco’s condition. He’d been so near death. And he’d looked as if he hadn’t seen or been cleansed by fresh water since he entered the cells.
Shaking his head, Harry leaned back and guzzled the rest of his firewhiskey. Getting pissed was no way to handle his concern for a fallen comrade. Harry wished sincerely that Luna was here with him. He’d taken to sending her short notes via Ron’s owl Pigwidgeon. They were not notes professing his love. They were notes of half thoughts and feelings that caught him in the moment and made him sit and think. Often they were about his anger management, his parents, Snape and currently Draco.
A prim hand waved in front of his face and it took Harry several minutes to respond. “Ginny, did you need something?”
Ginny smiled at him before placing her hands on her hips, “I’m going to Diagon Alley and I was wondering if you were getting bored just waiting around here with only Ron to look at.” She fluttered her eyelashes and rolled her eyes at Ron with a quick glance.
Harry would have rather owled Luna, but he supposed he’d avoided the Burrow to stay with Luna for long enough. Ginny had waited long enough for either a return to his affections or to be told that they weren't a thing anymore. She still passed him long glances at all the main meals of the day. Molly and Arthur were also treating Harry with a slight aloofness. Harry couldn’t put his finger on it, but he felt like they were expecting him to bounce back from his depression, swoop Ginny into his arms and demand that she marry him. Not to mention gain joint custody of his inherited fortune and estate. Harry was sure that it was just the paranoia making him imply such thoughts from their actions or inactions, but the stray thought about his wealth was still present.
The Weasleys had never been preoccupied with money and he knew that even if things with Ginny did not work out that he would still be welcomed at the Burrow or at least he hoped so.
“Ignoring, my sister now are you? Too good for her?!” an arrogant, strongly accented voice called out to Harry from across the abyss of his thoughts.
“Shut it, Ronald. Harry’s got a lot on his mind.” The voice softened as it spoke to him, “Its fine if you don’t want to go. I’ll go on my own. I know that I’m going mad if I have to stay here and listen to that any longer.”
Harry reached out and grabbed Ginny’s hand before she could walk too far from him, “I’ll come.”
Ginny shook off his hand as Harry stood, “I don’t need a pity party.” Her red locks bounced as she spoke. Harry smiled lightly at her. She was as beautiful as ever. Ginerva Weasley was just what he needed: a distraction.
ooOOoooOOooOOo
OOOOOOOoo

Draco breathed deeply and repeated the act several times. He wanted to feel, he needed to feel the feather mattress beneath him. It was so very soft, it made the ache reverberating throughout his body disappear. Living was something Draco contemplated as he shifted in and out of different wavelengths of consciousness. He needed the pain to end before he could return, but who would he be when he awoke?
Draco was honestly frightened by the idea of what was going to happen to him. The darkness that permeated his consciousness now was gentle and inviting. It embraced him as he was and not as who he had tried to be while he was awake. He wasn’t so tough without Crabbe and Goyle. Even this stray thought that curiously pondered their location was a sign that Draco was a flawed human being. Crabbe was dead, but was he with the gods or in a much darker place than Draco was right now? And Goyle was he dead or was he waiting in the wings to curl around him and give Draco the warmth that he sorely craved. Zabini. How was Blaise doing? Had his trial commenced? Was his source of warmth and protection safe?
The night terrors had ceased. There wasn’t a faceless body with desperate hands working its way over his body pumping his length with a rough, calloused fist. Draco no longer had to endure the crude thrust of an unforgiving arousal that never seemed to abate. He didn’t have to feel the filth of old semen dried between his legs and under him soaking into the threadbare mattresses of the hell in which he had been kept.
oOoOoOoOoOo
There are hands on me now. They are almost always there now. They cause my breath to quicken and even with every soothing caress. I enjoy these hands. I love these hands and what they represent: generosity. They give me hope. I’m safe with these silky hands that safeguard me from the cold harsh reality that pines for me. In this heaven created by illusion and fantasy of love and gentleness, I am never forgotten. I am never left completely and utterly alone. There is always someone to rest a hand on my aches and attempt to sooth them. They give me some distraction from the pain.
The ministrations begin at my shoulders and then descend. They caress me like the gentle breath I release every so often. The hands glide over my smooth hairless chest, the cloth of thin airy silk leaves me. They add a slightly firm massage to my hips and thighs as if attempting to strengthen the muscles there. If my voice were with me, I am sure it would tell them the futility of their actions. I am not going to move of my own accord until this pain recedes and this pressure abates.
“It’s almost time,” a voice hovers near whispering as if to me.
The feel of soft lips against my heated temple causes me to lurch with nausea. All of a sudden I remember and am overwhelmed with the memory. I cry out and am securely held. My eyes burst open and all I can see are his blue eyes hungrily staring down at me, devouring me. Trembling, I can feel it coming and am lifted from my cloud like nest and moved into an uncomfortable upright position.
I can see nothing beyond the scope of his blue eyes. They drown me in their possessive fury. I can do little else but breath as my legs are wrenched apart and I’m forced to realize that I’m nude and there is no energy left for me to fight. Panting, I listen to the voice that begs of me to relax. I fear that I will be penetrated, but it seems that I misjudged what would be going where as something rips its way through me. It as if I have suddenly become the tube for this being to apparate through. This being began at conception and will complete its journey by passing through me.
It is slow coming with every push as I struggle to keep breathing. I can hear him, my father speaking to me. His voice is breathy and hopeful and subdued with excitement, “Now you see why I’ve done all I could for you.”
“Lucius now is not the time,” my mother’s voice is sharp. My mother shares the secret, something of a Malfoy curse as I labor to bring new life into this harsh and unforgiving world. It is with several gasps of exhaustion that I first feel it finally reaching the surface and I hear the cry and am cleansed with a damp warm cloth to my brow. I shudder to think of what my arch enemy Harry Potter would say of me now? A wizard giving birth to an unwanted—or perhaps somewhat desired—child. I’m sure that my father will be at ease as long as it is not a squib.
“His name will be Scorpius Malfoy,” I hear my father christen him, my son. Turning my head to the side away from the annoying touch of the cloth and close my eyes to the bright blue that fills them. My vision is still blue. Nothing has changed. I’m still on the outside. Even though I am free of the threat of Azkaban, my sight has not returned to me. Nothing has been the same since he soiled me with his touch.
“Oh, I don’t know about that Lu what about Hyperion? I like that name.” A hush descends about the room, it is as if they’ve just realized that I was present.
Their voices lower considerably, “We will have to converse with Draco about this when he’s no longer indisposed. We do not have the right to do so at the present time.” Leave it to mother to be bipartisan. I know that Scorpius will be my son’s name. The power of naming is all the power my father has left. I am sure that Potter would have done all he could to strip the sons of Death Eaters like myself of all that they had left. Scorpius. What a bold name. It is even more venomous than my own.
Too tired to contemplate any longer I drown in the sleep that I need to run away from those haunting blue eyes of my predator. I am forever his prey. His scars linger over my body from the point of penetration to the crown of my head. Had my father not lost his place alongside the Dark Lord, I may not have been given to Fenrir Greyback as a gift of sexual conquest.
oOoOoOoOoOo
“Yes. Yes and Yes. Don’t you read Ronald?” Percy answered in a strained voice as Ron ranted across the table about the recent decree from the Ministry of Magic. It proclaimed that a make-up would be granted to those unable to attend or complete the previous school year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Harry tucked his loose hair behind his ears. He hadn’t had any time to sneak away from the Burrow to Spinner’s End to figure out how to reverse the side effects of the potion. Harry was sure that it would be permanent if it wasn’t already. Ginny had offered to take him to a potion’s master that she knew of to fix the predicament, but Harry just wasn’t interested. He was sure that the new look was growing on him. After all, most of the witches and wizards at Diagon Alley hadn’t looked at him twice! The goblins, on the other hand, knew who he was immediately.
Harry tried to forget the expression of awe on Ginny’s face at the sight of all of the inherited fortune inside of his Gringotts vault. He ended up visiting three: his own inherited from his parents, the one he inherited upon his godfather, Sirius' death and the newly acquired vault from Snape. The business trip was more than just a drop of blood on an official document, the goblins wanted to show him what was in the vaults for authenticity. Harry would have liked it better if Ginny had not been there for the show, but that was how life worked. A part of Harry was sure that this show and tell was a part of the goblins showcasing their tightened security against past trespassers like himself. Honestly, Harry was grateful to receive such a politely cold and almost scary response.
“Oh, honestly, Ron, get over it. So, you have to redo seventh year. You’re the one who went off on the adventure while I was stuck here.”
“Nonsense, Ginny, you were not stuck anywhere. You were safe. Let’s talk about more pleasant things.” Molly interjected before Ron could respond in kind. He sent a nasty look to his sister who did likewise. Magic wasn’t permitted at the table for joking or pulling pranks. Harry was sure that it was a new rule, especially without Fred around, agreed to by everyone in an unspoken manner.
“How was your time spent at Diagon Alley, wisely I hope,” Molly continued in a light conversational tone.
Harry smiled a little, “It was business as usual. Though, no one recognized me, so this mishap is working out to be a great disguise.”
“That’s nice dear.” Molly said in reply. Harry turned back to his food as the conversation continued around him. He was trying not to feel put out, but he was uncomfortable living with the Weasleys. Molly's constant need to ask Harry how he was feeling and whether he’d had enough to eat. He wanted to be left alone and not have his fortune of an inheritance dangling before everyone’s eyes as a prize to be won. Pushing his food around on his plate, Harry ate without tasting anything. A kick under table from Hermione promised him a meeting later on. Harry was sure that not even Hermione could lead him away from descending into a depression. He thought he was over it, over this shitty feeling but apparently not. Taking a final sip of his pumpkin juice, Harry excused himself from the table and headed up to his temporary room to pack.
He was moving back to number twelve Grimmauld Place. Meeting with Hermione be damned.
ooOOOoooOOOooOOOoooOO
oOoOoOoOoOo

He’s here, I know his presence. He breathes softly and with each rise in his chest, I can’t help but breathe easier.
“Father,” I breathe aloud. An instant later and he is at my side. He grasps my hand, cradling it gently. I know that it has been little over a month since Scorpius came into my life. After a six month gestation period, I was already at full term. Zabini has been by to visit and so has Vincent Goyle. I do not know how to begin to thank them, so I say nothing at all. I know that they take my silence as gratitude. Their wandless concealment charms helped my pregnancy to remain undetected by the ministry throughout my lengthy stay.
“My son,” I feel him release my hand and return a moment later. I push myself up and backward, so that I am seated against the pillows instead of lying down completely. My son is rested against my chest and I cannot feel any less content. I know that I will miss him dearly when I return to Hogwarts for my final year. I am unsure if I will be able to find work in Britain, but I have to complete my schooling. We Malfoy’s do not give up so easily.
“He is beautiful.” My father speaks softly. He has been unable to speak to me as he did before the war, with an angry and a malicious directness. He no longer has the need to live through me. I know this has to do with his failure to be on the winning side. He opted for saving me, for running cowardly to find me, for holding me in the presence of the new victors. He chose me over all that I once knew to be before me in importance. He knows now that all he has is me and mother and now Scorpius. Father knows how much I respect him, how much I desire for him to look at me with love and respect. He knows and I could die in this moment content with my child cradled to my bosom.
I feel the warmth of my child as I rest my hand on his small back. He breathes softly. I don’t know if it is possible for me to feel prouder. My father and mother know of how he came to be, but no one outside of the manor and a select few allies know of his existence. My family’s private healer hired out from St. Mungo’s must know, I think she was here as a midwife during the birth. Vincent and Zabini know. They’ve known since my incarceration. How will I attend my final year knowing that I can’t bear to be without my son?
ooOOOoooOOooooOOOoo
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oooooooO

One month to go until life back at Hogwarts begins again. Nothing will be the same with Dumbledore and Professor Severus Snape. Harry was unsure about what he would do without being able to look at his onetime archenemy without compassion or pity. Raising his head at the sound of a beak against glass, Harry stared at the tawny owl hovering outside the window. It carried with it a letter. Smiling, Harry tucked his shoulder length hair behind his ear and corrected his glasses as he headed for the owl. Upon opening the window, Harry was given three sharp peaks of annoyance from the delivery owl after it dropped the sealed letter in the sink.
“Hey, that’s not fair! I opened the window didn’t I?” The owl squawked at him menacingly before taking off again. Harry shook his head, that owl was as bad as The Daily Prophet owl that came by every morning to leave him a copy of the latest news in the Wizarding World.
Picking up the envelope and shaking it, Harry left the tidy kitchen freshly redecorated in a warm red with gold trim a month prior. He entered the remodeled sitting room that had once held the portraits of his late godfather’s relatives on the wall. Harry had removed them, taking three weeks to do so. That included incinerating the picture of Mrs. Black, Sirius’ horrid deceased mother. Harry found the house to be quite peaceful with her gone and only himself and Kreacher to fill the house with the living.
Harry steadied his trembling hands. The letter from Draco had arrived. He’d sent a letter nearly two months earlier, three days after Draco’s trial and subsequent release from the Ministry’s custody. Harry felt foolish at the relief that engulfed him as he held the letter. He hadn’t expected a reply. Hell, Harry wasn’t sure if Draco was even coming back for the final year.
Harry smirked at the thought of Ron’s face as if Ron could see the look of hope on Harry’s at the thought of Draco joining them for their final year at Hogwarts. With that Harry lifted the seal. Ron had firecalled twice and he’d come over to help Harry settle in. It was as if being in their one-time hideout had brought Ron out of his self-absorbed notion that Harry was supposed to follow through with their childish scheme to become Aurors. Ron had kind of admitted his guilt over his anger at Harry and Harry accepted the murmur as if it was the complete apology. Harry understood that Ron was current visiting with his brother Bill at Shell Cottage practicing charms and spells related to jinxes and curses that Bill was familiar with. Harry sincerely hoped that Ron knew what he was getting into.
Harry felt his smirk blossom into a smile as he realized that the Malfoy’s really were old fashioned pureblood wizards. The message was brief and concise, but the parchment felt rich and thick between Harry’s fingers. Draco would indeed be coming back to Hogwarts. He mentioned that he was doing well and that he was passing his summer recovery in leisure. Harry wished that there had been more written. It seemed that Draco didn’t have much to share. He didn’t even mention the shared inheritance from Snape. Harry had asked in the preivious letter, maybe he’d been to preoccupied to notice, but how could he not have?
Lifting the letter to his nose, Harry inhaled deeply it almost smelled like Draco. The rich sent was soothing to Harry and he didn’t really know why. Ever since moving back into Sirius’ old home, Harry had been waiting. He spent a lot of his time in Snape’s lab back at Spinner's End with Luna. Harry was too nervous to go upstairs and too unnerved to ask Draco to get over his pride and go through Snape’s possessions together.
The summer was practically over. He’d gotten post from Sean and Dean and Neville about their lives post-Voldemort. Even Hermione kept in touch with him. She’d followed Ron to Shell Cottage to ‘clear her head.’ Harry knew that what she actually meant was that she wanted to snog Ron without parental supervision, but if Harry remembered correctly Bill and Fleur were expecting a new Weasley. Harry wasn’t sure if he was excited or not. The thought of children made him depressed and his mind instantly drifted to Teddy Lupin, Remus and Tonks’ orphaned child. Sure Andromeda would be rearing him, but it wasn’t the same as having an actual mother and father.
Harry settled back onto the couch and counted down the days to his next birthday. School would be starting soon and Ron and Hermione promised to come back for the last week of August. They would spend time together. Harry had insisted on it. Something told him that after this year life would go on, but he wasn’t certain if they would as an integral a part of his life as they had always before. But what had changed? Harry knew his appearance was different and his interest in potions was a step in the opposite direction from pre-Final Battle Harry. He was still the same bloke on the inside and that’s what mattered most, right?
ooOOOooooOOOooOOo
OOOoooooOO

“Draco, look at me.”
“I am looking at you or at least in your general direction. Today is not the best day for me to see you.” Draco rolled his eyes as he allowed himself to be pulled into the heated embrace. Scorpius was sleeping nearby. Scorpius loved the sun room, it was his favorite room in the house and he was barely fourth months along. Draco cringed at the thought of leaving him.
“I know. I understand, but I am here for you, for both of you. You have my fortune Draco. I have nothing more to give you.” Draco frowned; perhaps Zabini didn’t have a heart worth giving. And even if he did, he obviously was not offering it right now. Draco understood his caution; an instant family was a lot to handle.
Draco leaned his toned body against the solid form of Blaise Zabini. Ordinarily, Draco couldn’t be bothered with Zabini’s open affection towards him. Draco knew that Zabini was trying not to treat him like a charity case, but Draco had his doubts. The passion Zabini oozed as he talked about himself and Scorpius made him seem noble. Draco knew what type of stock Zabini came from, his mother was a widow about seven times running. Zabini had always been a bit of a mystery to him from the beginning of their Hogwarts careers. He wasn’t about to let his guard down because Zabini had decided to do him a favor by protecting him in the cells from the cold at least. He sure as hell didn’t keep the grimy horny bastards away from his arse.
“You should be getting ready. We only have a few hours before its time to go. Is your mother meeting us at the station?” Draco asked changing the topic. The artificial sunlight drifting into the room like a warm summer afternoon was a clever spell he’d come across. For some odd reason, Scorpius enjoyed the sunlight. Draco had never been a fan, he liked being pale. He had to admit that it could be Greyback’s linage coming through. Scorpius did have Draco’s blond hair and pale skin, but his eyes belonged to Greyback.
“No, she’s not ready to face the public just yet.” Zabini chuckled softly, “as if she was really that important.” Draco moved his hips against Zabini’s in motion to a song unheard by either of their ears. Neither of them would admit to their anxiety and insomnia at the reality of going back to Hogwarts, the battleground.
“What should I say to Potter? I took your advice and I ignored his nosy question about my godfather’s inheritance.”
Draco pressed his lips against Zabini’s angular chin making his way up the jaw line. Even with the sunlight, real or not, his sight was barely good enough for him to make out more than just a faint outline.
“That’s not a very important question. Potter will ignore you. He didn’t persist with another letter. He was probably asking because Granger forced him. You know he can’t think for himself. He’s a Gryffindor through and through. And you’re a Slytherin, and so am I, don’t forget that. What is important is that we figure out how to take care of you for the final year.”
Draco fought the urge to shove Zabini away from him.”It’s been taken care of. I’ve spoken to McGonagall, she knows and so does the rest of the staff. I’ll attend classes, but I can’t write essays, not without my complete vision. I’ll be on a special schedule for exams. I’m sure that the professors love the idea of spending more time helping a Malfoy.” Draco sounded as bitter as he felt. He closed his eyes when warm lips met his and he was lost in the embrace of a fellow sufferer. Whatever lay ahead, he wouldn’t be facing his final year at Hogwarts alone.
"Of course, they have to verify it with their own eyes. I'll have an appointment with Madame Pomfrey soon enough."
“Gryffindors…” Zabini laughed outright waking Scorpius. Draco understood what he meant. One man’s flaw was another man’s gain or at least that was what his father had taught him.
OOooooOOOoooo

R&R. This chapter has been updated. Horizontal breaks in between scenes indicate that.
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Stream of Consciousness