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Dead like a Phoenix	By : OrangeMira Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 3136 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter Franchise and I have made no money from this story

Chapter List
- 1-Dead like a Phoenix
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 4
- 5
- 6
A hero is no braver than an ordinary man, but he is brave five minutes longer.

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

*-*-*-*-*

“It was hard I suppose, to get on without a cause. What was there to now, who was there to fight? I had no reason, no passion, and no burning drive to carry on, no matter the cost to myself. Not even a sense of peace. ”

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Harry Potter had a massive head ache. Werewolves were arguably the most trying of all magical creatures, and because he was still a trainee he got the extra fun job of interviewing them all fucking day long.

He still wasn’t comfortable with the werewolf registry, but didn’t want to rock the proverbial boat. He hadn’t signed up to get political or to do the kind of paper work he was now, but to work in the field, protecting people from creatures like the ones that drifted through his office today.

Ginny had forced him into this career. It would simply be too awkward, after their break up, if they had to spend every day together in Auror Training. So he’d turned to the Department of Magical Creature Control, very few people ever enlisted in the Creature Control program, and of them a tiny portion made it through training. It was arguably the most dangerous job in the wizarding world.

Except of now,Harry thought irritably as his door closed behind yet another seriously pissed off Werewolf.

The little bell on his door rang again and Harry wanted to cry.

Instead, the brunet looked up and nearly bit his tongue off in surprise.

“Malfoy!” he sputtered.

He looked different, not better or worse, just different. His hair was no longer slicked back and proper, but fell down his back in smooth platinum waves. His face still just as thin, and a flicker of a smirk lit his lips, though it looked almost forced.

The biggest change was his eyes. They were still a light grey, but the malice and the fear that had lingered there was replaced by the haunted exhaustion that plagued every other ‘client’ he had seen that day, and a soft sadness all his own.

The blond man bit his lip, a gesture Harry was sure he wasn’t supposed to see and walked to the chair opposite Harry’s. From his sleeve he withdrew a slip of paper and what Harry identified to be a Quick Quotes Quill. He set them on the desk between them.

“What’s this?” he asked dumbly.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and the Quill spread across the paper writing the words, a means of communication in precise calligraphy.

“What you don’t even speak to Mud Bloods now?” he asked tiredly.

A shadow of a smile appeared on the other man’s lips.

I cannot speak to anyone, Potter. I have no larynx.

“Oh,” Harry muttered. It was so blunt. “Please fill out this questionnaire as honestly as possible.”

Malfoy took it gingerly from Harry’s hands, treating him to a view of stiff scarred digits.

He couldn’t imagine Draco Malfoy as a Werewolf, it was simply too contrary to his nature. But then, so was the fear that was positively radiating off of him. His back was straight and stiff as ever, but it was not out of arrogance but rather a nervous tension. His arthritic fingers clutched the pen like a lifeline, and his other arm was wrapped around his middle, as if he were trying to support himself.

Malfoy had disappeared off the face of Britain three years ago. Not a word in the papers, or a whisper of gossip in the office had contained his name. Harry had forgotten him, wholly and completely, but now three years of mental silence were made up for in a flurry of questions, questions he dare not ask.

Five minutes later, Draco Malfoy raised his head and the quill began to move once again.

I do not know who turned me.

“Just—Just put the date,” he muttered.

I don’t know it.

Harry eyed him skeptically, “you must know.”

Malfoy glared, I don’t.

“Just put what month it was or the year,” Harry shrugged.

He bent his head and continued with the survey. When he was finished, he thrust it forward and Harry filed it away in his desk.

“For your safety,” Harry began the long speech his boss had made him memorize, “and the safety of others you will be fitted with a tracking bracelet that will remain on when you shift. A Ministry representative will visit your home and inspect the area which you use to transform. You will be required to prove that you have a supply of Wolf’s Bane potion and are qualified to administer it to yourself. You will be required to inform the ministry prior to marriage, pregnancy or relocation. Failure to comply with these guidelines will result in incarceration. If your transformation area is deemed unsafe you will be required to report to a Ministry designated area every full moon for your transformation. If the Ministry representative feels other occupants of your home are not safe from you—“

He paused; Malfoy was making a raspy choking noise. It sounded as if someone were strangling a small animal inside of him, and that he was in pain because of it.

It took Harry a moment to realize he was laughing.

“What!” the brunet snapped.

Malfoy took a deep breath and his face twisted in pain. Another two, smaller breaths and his expression was once again neutral, though a tear escaped his left eye.

Nothing Potter, you may continue.

“If the Ministry representative feels other occupants of your home are not safe from you, you or they will be relocated at your own expense. Thank you for your continued cooperation. ” Harry finished with a stern glare, Malfoy was not cowed. “For the record of the Ministry I am required to photography where you were bitten, take a sample of your blood and fit you for a tracking bracelet. ”

Very well.

The blond stood and shrugged off his jacket. His fingers moved to the buttons on his shirt, trembling just slightly.

“Where is it?” Harry stood also and pulled a camera from his desk.

Torso

The shirt came off. Malfoy’s skin was a field virgin snow marred only by the criss-crossing of paths on the solid white expanse. Only, these trails did not tell the story of a journey, but of long, drawn out abuse. Most seemed clean, precise and unhurried. Caresses of his skin with a blade. Harry recognized a few shiny burns, and the rippling thick scars of the lash. There were a few that he could not place, they looked like tree roots branching out from each other and splitting into smaller and smaller tendrils.

His ribs were visible, like a tiny mountain range that surrounded the valley of his abdomen. A blue pendant fairly shinning with power hung on a dull chain to his xiphoid process.

His hip bones cast long shadows in the harsh, false light. The soft movements of his breathing created yet more across his stomach and Harry found himself watching them grow, then slowly soften and shrink. His skinny hips thinned further still and then abruptly flared at his ribcage in curve that would be feminine if it weren’t so sharp. Still, it looked to Harry a perfect place to rest his hands.

The bite was the largest Harry had ever seen, it appeared a wolf had caught him by his left side, so the top of the it covered his stomach and the bottom part of his back.

“Malfoy,” the brunet murmured “what they fuck happened to you?”

The blond shook his head with a little smile playing on his lips.

Lots

Harry gulped and snapped a photo of the bite mark. “Why didn’t you get your throat er—recovered?” the brunet asked with a sick curiosity.

I was refused medical care.

“They can do that?” Harry asked, moving closer to the other man. He took another photograph of the bite.

Malfoy turned slowly and Harry watched the interplay of muscles moving under his thin skin. He was so close to him, merely inches away, head bowed, glorious platinum hair spilling over his shoulders, leaving only a few inches of a too-bumpy spine visible between its choppy ends and the waistband of his trousers. His body seemed to jump with ever beat of his heart, though Harry could barely see the movement of his breathing.

Before he realized the movement, Harry reached out and brushed Malfoy’s hair away from his bite. Malfoy gasped and a stiffened sharply.

“I’m sorry. ” Harry drew his hand back. “Can you move your hair?”

Malfoy shook his head mutely, and drew it into a horse-tail with his left hand, body still stiff.

“I’m sorry for having to do this,” he murmured. Malfoy’s back was agony painted on human flesh.

Stop apologizing.

“Here,” Harry indicated the chair awkwardly, “sit down so I can draw blood. ”

Malfoy sat like an old man who had been too long from his wheel chair. He extended a pale limb, and with a jolt Harry recognized the Dark Mark on it. This was a Death Eater, a Death Eater and a werewolf, and he had nearly forgotten. So he shoved his nauseous sympathy into a dark corner of his mind and extracted a needle from his desk.

Very aware of Malfoy’s tense flesh, Harry slipped the needle in with hardly a bit of pressure. The vial filled quickly, Werewolve’s hearts beat much faster than a human’s. Malfoy’s sad grey eyes watched him work with an odd sort of detachment, as if it were not his paper skin that was being pierced, not his life blood being drained away.

The blood went into a refrigerated and sterile box after being labeled with Malfoy’s name.

Harry the removed a thick silver chain from inside the desk, “hold out your left wrist, please. ”

The blond’s movements were mechanical, but quick. Harry fumbled with the clasp for a second, finger’s brushing Malfoy’s soft, pale skin. It felt like little sparks jumping under his fingers.

Harry realized he had lingered too long and stepped back rather quickly. ”Ah—A Ministry representative will be in contact with you before the next full moon. ”

Malfoy already had his shirt back on, though he was having trouble with his buttons. Harry suddenly pitied him. The proud Draco Malfoy of old, who laughed with such intense cruelty, whose words were daggers made of air and whose eyes were walls of steel, was dead as last autumn’s leaves. No, he had no voice now and his eyes... his eyes were mist, open and absorbing yet still concealing what lay beneath. He was a shadow of his former self, so clearly terrified, so clearly broken, yet so proud.

So compelling.

Draco Malfoy exited his office without a backward glance, and for that, Harry was glad. He knew his eyes betrayed him too easily.

Harry Potter sat down rather heavily at his desk, headache very suddenly gone.
- 4
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Dead like a Phoenix