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Darkness Within The Light	By : crimson96 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 8759 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Author Note: Chapter 5 we get to explore Harry's thoughts a bit about Draco, and also we get to see things from Draco's point of view. Eris, my wonderful beta reader, I couldn't have done this without you.

Chapter 5: Depth of a Feeling

It had been a very long night inside Grimmauld Place, too long for both occupants who slept there. The old grandfather clock in the hallway ticked with each passing second of the night. To the house elf, each second seemed like an eternity as he looked out of his little room and across the kitchen at the shattered glass on the floor. The spilled fire whiskey had begun to stain the floor, and it took all of the restraint that the house elf had within him not to go and do what his instincts told him that he should.

"Master Harry gave Kreacher orders not to clean up the mess," Kreacher mumbled to himself as he paced over to the broken glass and looked at every single fragment. This was torture to the house elf, but he understood that he must remain loyal to his owner and do as he was instructed.

It was difficult at times trying to understand humans, trying to figure out their emotions and reactions, their greed and their complexity. The house elf had begun to notice small changes with his new master. Harry was not quite the same person who had stayed here with his two friends before the Dark Lord had been defeated. True to form, the Harry Potter who had stayed here before would never have made a mess like this and walked away from it. The young man who came back to Grimmauld Place was emotionally hardened. He was more short-tempered, much like Kreacher's old master, Sirius Black, had been at times. Yet, this new Harry Potter had not yet scolded or threatened Kreacher in any way. Still the house elf sensed a touch of darkness within him that had not been there previously.

"All in due time, Master Harry," the house elf said as he walked back to his bed. "The Dark Lord has left his imprint upon you forever, just like with Master Regulas."

Kreacher picked up a small, glass fragment and looked at his reflection with the shattered piece. The many fond memories of Regulas Black came to him as a single, solitary tear slid down the house elf's face. He walked back to his small room in the kitchen carrying the piece of broken glass. "Yes, Master Harry, the Dark Lord will forever be linked to your soul, and it will kill you as it did Master Regulas."

Harry awoke the next morning as sunlight shined in through the window and warmed his body. He had no idea of the time, but he did know that Kreacher had not awakened him, as he sometimes would if Harry slept too late into the morning. Harry had stayed awake last night staring at the moon, allowing the many emotions to course through his mind and body. He had thought about many things while looking at the magnificence of the moon, until finally he willed his thoughts away from it all and shut down his mind to sleep.

Now looking at the brightness of the day, Harry guessed it might have been ten o'clock or even later. He remembered the previous night, the anger that had surfaced after reading Hermione's letter, and also how uneasily Kreacher had looked at him as he stormed out of the kitchen.

"Kreacher?" Harry said, as he got out of bed and made his way to his bedroom door. He reached the kitchen and stopped at the sight before him. To his relief, it was exactly as he had left it. Harry did not want Kreacher to have to do every single task that he was capable of doing himself. In Harry's mind, he could envision Hermione scolding him for making a house elf do everything that a wizard was more than capable of doing.

'S.P.E.W. Potter, S.P.E.W '

"Kreacher!" The sound of his name brought the house elf out from his bed, and into the kitchen.

"Master Harry is awake. Kreacher has obeyed your order, and has not touched the broken glass and drink left by him. Kreacher hopes that master is pleased?"

"Kreacher, I'm sorry for putting you through that last night. I lost control of myself for a moment, and I know it was difficult for you to do what I said."

The house elf nodded and shuffled his feet slightly. "Master shouldn't apologize to Kreacher. May Kreacher clean up the broken glass and drink?"

Before Kreacher could begin to pick up the broken pieces of glass, Harry brandished his wand, repaired the glass and cleaned up the spilled fire whiskey on the floor with a cleaning spell.

"No, Kreacher. I've cleaned up my own mess."

Kreacher scowled at the freshly magic-polished floor, looking disappointed at being denied the opportunity to scrub, and do more work. After a long put-upon sigh, he said, "Very well, sir, now would Master Harry prefer a late breakfast or an early lunch today?"

"Lunch sounds nice, Kreacher. I have a few things to do in the meantime and will be in the library, or in my bedroom."

Harry's "things" that he spoke of to Kreacher would involve his friends at the Burrow. It was time that he came out of his shell and spoke to them, no matter how difficult it may be to express his feelings. He knew that it was time to move forward, yet there was still a feeling of dread. It would not be easy to explain to Ginny that he did not love her anymore, not in the same way that she loved him. Nor would it be easy to be around the only people still alive who considered him their son.

Harry sat down at the large desk within the library and placed his head within his hands. He knew that this visit would not be easy, but he hoped that the Weasleys would somehow understand.

His thoughts quickly raced to Draco Malfoy and the thought of how good it had felt to have his arms wrapped around Harry's waist. No—"good" was a lie; it had felt bloody wonderful, better than snogging Ginny. Admitting that made him feel sick, frightened and excited all at the same time. He felt his face heat and a jolt like a mild, pleasurable, electric shock ran through his body. Harry wondered if Draco thought about him in the same way that he now thought of Draco.

Of course not, Potter! Even if Draco were capable of such an attraction, he's still a Slytherin! You're mutual enemies.

Harry nodded feeble agreement as his inner voice of reason spoke to him. As always, the voice of reason was right, but that did nothing to stop the litany of "what ifs" that played in the back of his mind. What if Draco had changed since the battle of Hogwarts? What if he realized there was nothing left to keep them apart? What if he wanted-

The voice of reason interrupted, derailing that train of thought before it could arrive at a full-blown fantasy. Draco hates you. He would probably

unleash the cruciatus curse if he even suspected you fancied him.

Harry raised his head up and looked into the palms of his hands. Draco had made the first offer. He had extended his hand to Harry in friendship many years ago, and Harry had refused to shake his hand. Now, his palm virtually itched with the need to feel Draco's hand in his.

"We could have been friends all of this time," Harry said, as he stared into the mirror that stood opposite from the desk. "Why do we hate one another? Who says that Gryffindors and Slytherins must be mutual enemies?"

Harry knew within his heart that he did not hate Draco Malfoy. Perhaps he should after all the things that Draco had done and said over the years, but somehow none of those things seemed important. His most vivid impression of Draco was that of a frightened young man driven by forces beyond his control and willing to do anything to save his father. Even if his mind were not clouded with lust, he could not have hated that young man. Harry's thoughts traveled to his dead parents, and he knew that he would do anything to save them if they were still alive today. He stood there looking into the mirror, meeting his reflection's eyes.

What would it have been like if we were friends? Could we have been more than friends? Could we actually be lovers today?

The fire within his mind blazed to life as he thought of the memory from the Room of Requirement. For a brief moment as Harry stared directly into the mirror, he envisioned a pair of blue-grey eyes staring back at him.

"You're a bloody fool, Potter," Harry berated himself. "A damned bloody fool."

Draco Malfoy was choking. The thick, heavy smoke surrounded him and took away the air from his lungs. The heat from the flames was unbearable as they grew higher and closer to him. The roar was deafening, and the young Slythein knew that this was how it would end for him. He would die of asphyxiation. His thoughts were of his mother and of his future plans, but death's grip would soon snatch those thoughts away. Then the scorching flames would burn his flesh to the bone, leaving nothing but a charred skeleton. He could only hope that the people who were in here with him would suffer his same fate. Draco closed his eyes and awaited his grisly demise. Even though his mind had conceded defeat, his lungs struggled on, dragging the thick corrosive air into his body. His chest felt as if some monster were inside it, fighting to escape. His eyes streamed, and the tears stung like acid. He wanted to scream, but the smoke had ravaged his vocal cords, and the roar of the flames swallowed his weak, rasping cries.

He waited almost eagerly for the smoke to finally choke the breath completely out of him, and then to feel the beginning of the flames burning him. He waited on death's presence to take him, to take the pain away. He felt a heavy grip around his waist and knew this was probably the beginning of the end for him. In his mind this grip was death saying hello to him. Instead of falling to the ground in a smoking, burning heap, it felt as if he were soaring into the air, getting farther away from the smoke and the heat. If this was death, Draco felt that it at least was a peaceful prelude to what he had thought it would be like. Rather than feeling the burn of the fire, it was like gently falling asleep while rising through the air. He heard a voice telling him to hold tight, and suddenly Draco knew that voice all too well. It was him! It was Harry Potter, and he had just saved Draco's life. Draco looked down at the fire below, and then he raised his face to look at the back of his savior, but instead of seeing Potter he was staring into the red, slit-like eyes of the Dark Lord.

Draco's eyes darted around the room looking for the fire, but it was not there. Instead he was back at his home, in Malfoy Manor. His mother was sitting to the side of him, her head bowed, and her eyes downcast save for the occasional glance at her son. Draco looked at his left forearm and saw the dark mark glistening against his pale skin.

"So, Draco, you will complete this task for me and kill Albus Dumbledore," Voldemort said, as he sat down in the chair opposite Draco, stroking the head of the huge snake as if it were a playful kitten. "Yes, you will do this or you and your family will suffer my wrath!"

"Y..yes m..my Lord," Draco stammered as he braved a quick glance at the man sitting in the chair in front of him.

"Do not fail me, or else you will all suffer mightily."

Draco did not look at the man this time, as his eyes began to tear. He tried to stop the tears from flowing, but nothing the young Slytherin could do would stop them. He knew what he had to do. He had to kill to prove himself faithful to the Dark Lord, and to save his family from being tortured and murdered. Voldemort sat in the chair with his right hand tapping the table as if his finger were a clock ticking down the seconds left in Draco's life. The young Malfoy heard this and knew there was no way out of the situation. He could hear the steady tapping of his own death march.

The surroundings began to swirl around in a mixture of color as Draco felt himself blacking out. Even through the blackness he could still hear that sound of Voldemort's fingers tapping the table. Draco screamed only to open his eyes and have them flooded with light. He sat upright panting and sweating profusely. The young Slytherin looked around him taking in his surroundings. He was in his room, in his four poster bed, black, silken pajamas plastered to his pale skin. Standing across the room was a full length mirror, and Draco saw his own image reflected back at him. His chest was heaving as he slowly gained control of his breath, his thoughts, and his emotions. Suddenly, he heard it, that same knocking sound that was in his dream, but this time it came from his bedroom door.

"What!" Draco screamed at the door.

"Master Draco?" A small, squeaky voice came from the other side of the door, "Master Draco screamed, sir. Is young master Draco alright?"

"Yes, Kraven...I'm alright, now go away," Draco said, as he continued to regain his composure from his dreams.

"Young Master Draco is requested by his father in the study, as soon as he has awakened."

"What? Why?" His father was the last person he wanted to talk to after hearing and witnessing his parents' argument the previous night. However, instead of avoiding him, Draco knew it was best not to incur his father's temper. "Oh...alright, tell him I will be there shortly."

"Very good, sir." With that, the house elf left the bedroom door and Draco alone with his thoughts.

Draco looked down at the remains of the picture of his father that he had destroyed. "Father," Draco said as if the word were poison to his tongue. "Yes, father let's do have a little talk."
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Darkness Within The Light