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Independence of the Dark	By : Callisto Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 17491 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Chris- Thank you for your review. This story was originally planned to be a complete bottom!Harry fic ('coz I'm an insane fan of a submissive Harry), but since you requested for a bottom! Draco, I'll try to do a few scenes where Harry might top.
jujukitty- Thank you for your review. Yeah, that was exactly the scenario I was aiming
Steviee- Thank you for your review. If you are reading this, know that there is a mailing list set up for this story. So, leave your mail id in a review if you want to be alerted for chapter updates.
LeVeen, layne, Lilith_Kawanami- Thank you for your reviews. I'm glad you guys enjoyed it. On another note, thank you all for your well wishes. My sis is getting better but she still has a long way to go.
Thank you to everyone who rated and reviewed. Hope you enjoy the chapter !!
A large thank you to my beta lovingsiri for beta reading this chapter for me.

Chapter 5
Malfoy Manor, Location Unknown
Draco Malfoy was having a bad day. No. Scratch that. He was having a horrible day. Reason? Too many to count.
It had all started with his elf barging in on him when he was having his ritual morning wank fantasizing about a certain delectable boy with silky black hair and bright green eyes spread out naked in front of him. After that embarrassing incident which had ended up in him shrieking and the elf refusing to open its eyes, things had only gone downhill.
His father had arrived from a Death Eater meeting in the early morning looking like death warmed over and had promptly retired to his rooms to recover from his latest torture session with the Dark Lord. And he sure as hell needed that rest considering the fact that the Dark Lord had arranged for a private meeting with his father later that evening itself.
Then to make matters worse, his dear deranged auntie Bella had made an appearance to cackle and gloat to his father and mother about how her Lord had rewarded her. His ears still rung from her screeching.
She had then proceeded to rub herself against him, cooing in his ear 'Does ickle Dwaco want a wankie? Then come to Bellaaa...' (apparently the fact that he was her nephew seemed to have slipped her mind) and had placed a sloppy wet kiss on his cheek before leaving. Disgusting woman. He could never understand how he had ended up being related to her. And then there was one Harry Bloody Potter who was never far from his thoughts.
He could not recall when he had started feeling attracted to the boy; during his fourth year maybe. At first, he had only felt jealous when Potter had been selected as the champion, but it had reluctantly morphed into admiration when he once again glimpsed his indomitability and defiance, which Potter always wore around him like a cloak, to stand against the odds and thrive.
Everything Draco did to antagonize him, he would let it slide, just like water against a duck's back; and he would do it with a grace that was enviable. At first, it had pissed him off that he was not reacting to his taunts like he usually would before; and it had taken him quite some time, after his sulking, to finally comprehend that Potter was growing up and apparently did not want to indulge in their childish rivalry. Fat chance. Draco had no intention of stopping.
And then when the Portkey had arrived with two motionless figures, he had feared the worst upon immediately spotting the mop of dark hair. He could have cared less about Diggory. He would never admit it, but he had nearly cried in relief when he realized that Potter was alive.
Fifth year had started just like another year. If possible, his attraction or obsession or whatever it could be called with Potter had become even more consuming; so much so that he had even taken to hexing some of his more ardent suitors into oblivion, without Potter's knowledge of course, for ogling him too much.
Then, one day out of the blue, that bint Chang had started going out with Potter. Incensed, he had with all his cunningness, concocted a plan to remove Chang out of the equation in an effective manner.
He had known that she belonged to that secret group of Potter's. So, he had sent a powerful confundus charm her way, to make her babble out the truth about their little club to Umbridge.
When truth got out that Chang was the culprit, his problem would be solved because Potter hated traitors.
But, then that Edgecombe bitch had accidently intercepted it thus making her the victim. He had been enraged. However, his worry was naught to be. He did not know what exactly had happened nor did he care, as the end result was what he wanted. Chang and Potter had broken up. He had been cackling like mad for an entire week after that; so much so that Severus had even tried to force feed him some healing potions, afraid that he had been slightly touched in the head.
Thankfully, he was interrupted from his musings when a bell began to chime indicating that his father had returned from his private meeting with the Dark Lord.
He bellowed, "Tiffy"
"Yes, Master Draco?", the small elf with big blue eyes asked with its head bowed.
"Where can I find Father?"
"Master is in his study, Master Draco", the elf squeaked.
Draco nodded at Tiffy in dismissal. He quickly wandered down the hall to the study. The Dark Lord had become even more ruthless in his punishments or rather in his pastime. Draco scowled. His father was facing the full brunt of the Dark Lord's anger for failing in retrieving the prophecy. He really hated the Dark Lord. And his mother, she hated the Dark Lord even more than he did.
Standing before the door to his father' study, Draco wondered whether he should knock or just barge in. A slight painful moan from the inside made the decision for him.
Lucius Malfoy was a proud man. He prided himself on his cunning and sharp mind; which was the reason why he couldn't fathom how he had agreed to follow that mad man he called Master. Actually, in all truth, he could. He had been an impressionable teen back then; and on the other hand, the Dark Lord had been in his prime, gathering followers, fighting for the Dark. Importantly, he had been sane or atleast as sane as a Dark Lord can be.
The Dark Lord truly had a great vision. The Light people were too much in control and the Dark wizards were frowned upon. Lucius had never understood the Light's prejudice. After all, they were all magical and he couldn’t fathom why the practice of a powerful branch of magic was looked down upon. So, fighting for their rights to practice Dark Magic had been a worthy cause.
He had listened to his lord's words and had taken everything to heart. The Dark Lord had said that the only way to gain ground would be by pushing for pureblood supremacy as most of the old purebloods were practioners of Dark Magic. He had completely agreed with it.
At least that was how it was in the beginning. As time went on, he'd seen how his lord had sent him on raids sabotaging muggle towns and villages. He couldn't understand why that would be. Wouldn't be more wise to attack only muggle-born homes? Why the muggles? Not that he cared about those filth.
He just couldn't get why the Dark Lord was so focused on them. It would surely one day result in those muggles finding about them. That had never been the plan.
However, his answers had come in the form of his father's journal. Abraxas Malfoy had been a very trusted Death Eater and the classmate of Tom Marvolo Riddle. He had been among the few who knew the truth; Lord Voldemort was a half-blood. Abraxas, being his most trusted Death Eater, had been privy to a few secrets; such as the Dark Lord's hatred for anything muggle because of his own upbringing.
The Dark Lord may have all been about fighting for the right for the Dark Wizards, but in truth, it had been all about subjugation of muggles. He doubted the Dark Lord himself knew what he was doing.
He had hated that the half-blood had been using him for his own twisted agenda; but he kept quiet, because even with his twisted goals, the Dark was steadily gaining ground.
However, one day, everything changed. His distant full-blooded Veela cousin (through his Great-Grandmother’s side who was a Veela herself) had been visiting their Manor for her holidays. Unfortunately, she had been alone in the Manor when the Dark Lord came to visit them in all of his deranged fury. He had tortured and killed her without a thought.
The only response he got in turn for his query as to why he killed his cousin was a Crucio and a "She's just an animal. And what use is an animal to us?"
That had been the day when he had truly began hating the Dark Lord with a passion that only rivalled his wife. Not only did he sully them with his half-muggle blood, he also had the nerve to kill a Dark Veela Pureblood and insult her after her death. As if the half-blood could even understand about Magical creatures.
How helpless he had felt then. He could not even act out as he had wanted to, with the fear that he would kill both Narcissa and him.
However, his fears had again resurfaced when Draco was born. He knew that Draco would also have to eventually follow him or else end up dead. He had consoled himself with the fact that he would find a way out for his child.
But then, very delightful news had reached him. His Lord had died; vanquished by a mere child. He had been without a doubt, ecstatic. But by Morgana, it had taken him every ounce of his acting skills to not break out into a large grin when Bella had told him the news.
Bella had then asked him to join in the attack on the Longbottom manner. He had refused and then silently tipped off the aurors of the attack; but only after asking Narcissa if she was okay with her sister getting arrested. Narcissa had been sad but had agreed that it would be for the best if their insane relatives weren't anywhere near Draco when he grew up. He knew his lord might come back one day. After all, he had told them that he had made himself immortal, so he didn't want the Lestranges, fanatics that they were, to find him sooner.
Until a year ago, life had been perfect in every sense of the word. But, once again, everything fell apart as He came back. Even more insane than before. And he had no idea how to help Draco out of this. Narcissa had even suggested a mad scheme of faking Draco's death and hiding him away.
And now, the reason for all his fears stood facing him with a horrified expression on his face, hovering near the doorway.
Draco watched as a number of expressions crossed his fathers' face which had blood leaking on one side , his pale blond hair matted with blood. If his shaking form was anything to go by, he had been hit with several Crucios. In addition to that, he also obviously suffered from several cutting curses, a broken arm and who knew what else.
Knowing his father hated being seen in this condition, he carefully blanked his expression and began treating his father's wounds before handing him a few healing potions.
"I see the Dark Lord was hard on you tonight", Draco commented lightly.
"Indeed. Apparently, I had not been making myself useful enough", Lucius replied dryly.
Lucius continued," But, in truth, he is just still mad that I lost his diary and also failed to get the prophecy."
"I've never asked you, but why did you do that?", Draco asked curiously. He had wondered about that several times but he had never gotten the chance to ask him.
"Simple. I wanted Weasley to get into trouble", Lucius smirked.
"Hmm...that's kind of reasonable. However, wasn't it a wee bit childish of you? You even disobeyed the Dark Lord's orders. A bit Griffyndorish of you, don't you think?", Draco teased.
Lucius grinned."Hey. watch it. You are one to talk. I believe everything I do pales in comparison to your rivalry with your nemesis. That would top everything I say. When Potter is involved, it is like he brings out all your Griffyndor habits out into the open."
Draco scowled. Stupid green-eyed git...
Lucius continued on a more serious tone, "Really Draco, I swear he is getting more and more violent every day. I just want to find a way for you to escape this. I would do anything. I have a few people who are in accordance with me. Hopefully, we can do something to get you all out of this."
Draco nodded solemnly, "I know Father."
Draco quickly left the room when his mother came to check up on him. He retired to his rooms and leaned against the window looking out over the Manor grounds. His eyes caught a picture fluttering between the folds of a book.
Pulling it out, he found himself staring at a pair of huge green eyes, set in a delicate face framed by messy locks of black hair; lips upturned slightly in a smile. It was a newspaper clipping from the Quibbler last year.
He suddenly wished his summer would go faster, at least then he would also be able to watch Potter all the time at Hogwarts. He found everything he did... cute. No other word for it. Shaking his head, he gazed out the window, trying to stop acting like a moon-struck fool.
"Potter...Potter...what you do to me", Draco murmured with a slight smile gracing his lips.

Harry Potter was feeling happy. Elated actually. He had had a wonderful day. He had visited the Fortress, met his lovely perverted ancestors, found that he was the Lord to four Ancient Houses and had more money than he knew what to do with. What more could a person want?
Harry licked at the large double chocolate sundae, as he sat outside of Florean Fortescue's ice-cream parlour enjoying the sunshine. After polishing off his ice-cream, Harry checked the time. It was just half past three. He just about had enough time to run a few errands.
Harry flooed to the Labyrinthine alley after discreetly making sure that no one was following him; not that anyone could recognize him, even though only his eyes and his scar had been glamoured.
Silvertongue had told him that 'Wilkins Wizarding Wear' was the best shop to buy clothes. It apparently had many branches spread out through various wizarding countries. It was the best. And also bloody expensive. Apparently, all the rich purebloods shopped there.
That was where Harry was going. He needed a whole wardrobe. And it wasn't like he couldn't afford it either.
Harry opened the door and entered. Harry's first impression was 'It looks way too neat'. Truly, it wasn't anything remotely like Madam Malkins' crowded store.
Instead of a small room filled with chairs as it was in Madam Malkins', in its place was an elegant lounge littered with cream setees and low glass tables where a few ladies were gossiping over a fashion magazine. Low soft music played in the background.
Eight doors were spaced out evenly on one side, leading to separate rooms for privacy. Every customer was taken to one of these rooms where they were consulted with a clothing designer.
It reminded Harry eerily of a muggle hospitals; especially the consultation rooms. However, he had to admit that it was nonetheless effective and neat. Harry wondered whether Malfoy shopped here, as it resembled a place where he could imagine the Malfoys would fit right in. Elegant and Proper.
Harry approached the receptionist and had her enter his name into the log book. Harry relaxed on one of the sofas, and a platter of drinks appeared in front of him. Nice, Harry decided.
After less than ten minutes, a young woman appeared and directed him to room marked No.7. Harry pushed the door open and entered. A dark blonde haired man with light blue eyes and appeared to be somewhere in his early twenties greeted him.
Jacques Flaubert was his name. A pureblood from France. He had graduated from Beauxbatons Academy with top scores. He could have gotten any job he wished or simply stayed at home. But his interest had been in designing. His parents weren't pleased but accepted it on one condition. He would still do all the duties that ought to be done as an heir and would become the Head of his Ancient House after his father passed away. He had quickly agreed.
After two years at the top institute of fashion in France, he had immediately been hired by the 'Wilkins Wizarding Wear' which was an honour in itself. Every year only a handful students around the world were selected by them to work there. He had progressively gained success in his career until he had been made the head and senior designer of this branch despite his young age. He had great imagination and it had paid him off.
He looked up just as the door opened and it took him every ounce of his professionalism to keep him from gasping out loud.
The young man standing at the doorway was simply stunning. Locks of silky black hair framed a face with skin as soft as rose petals; slender eyebrows gracing the sapphire blue eyes followed by high cheekbones and a blood red mouth quirked in a smile. A face that looked delicate yet with a look of hidden mystery glinting in the eyes.
And he was his client. He wondered how he was going to survive and not spontaneously combust while talking with this beautiful creature today.
Using every iota of his will power, he forced himself to stand up and smile. He quickly led him to the green couch with a low coffee table in front of it.
Harry took the indicated seat and turned to look at the man.
Harry held out a hand and said," James"
"Jacques Flaubert", he replied shaking his hand, noting that the teen had not revealed his family name.
Flaubert, he had heard or read that name somewhere. But he couldn't, for the life of him, remember where.
"Mr. James, what would you like to look at?", Jacques asked.
"Please call me James. Just James. Actually, I wanted to do a full wardrobe shopping. However, I have no idea where to start", Harry confessed quietly.
Jacques gasped. Wow, this was a major contract. He quickly pulled out a large book.
"Let me see, you will need everyday robes, evening robes, party robes, formal robes, special-occasion robes, shoes to go with them, of course. Every-day cloaks and special cloaks. Shirts, Pants, Boxers, Ties, Cufflinks, Belts, Socks, Gloves, Brooches. That is all I think. The robes will come with a matching shirt and vest to be worn underneath", Jacques recited, jotting it down in a diary.
Harry blinked. Merlin, that was a long list. He never knew there were that many types of robes.
"Okay, I do not want any light colours; everything should be in dark shades and please make sure that there is at least one blue, one black, one green and one dark red among every type of clothes."
Jacques quickly noted it down. "What about the design, James?"
"Oh. That. Anything is fine with me. Just as long as it is simple and elegant and not too gaudy", Harry replied quickly. No need to let anyone know that he didn't even know the first thing about fashion or designing.
Jacques nodded his head eagerly. Ah, how he loved to experiment designs. It wasn't often that he could get to design to his liking. Most of the customers insisted on copying styles from one magazine or the other and were never keen on trying new ones. Pity.
And to design clothes for such a beautiful being to his heart's content, the gods must have been especially pleased with him today.
"And how many pieces should I design, James?"
Harry had serious plans for this coming year. And being the Lord of four ancient houses meant he had to act and dress accordingly.
Harry had deduced that the designer was fanatic about designing clothes, from the unholy glint in his eyes that had appeared there, when he had informed him that he could design his clothes. So, he felt that if he left the number to him, he would end up having more than enough.
"However many you wish. As I said, money is of no concern and I will have many run-ins with the media. So, I think with that information, you could guess how many"
Because, honestly he had no bloody clue on how many to order. 10? 15? perhaps. Whatever. It was better to leave it to the professional, he decided wisely.
Jacques nodded. Usually, the influential people never wore anything more than once if they had to be before the media. It was considered bad form. It meant that the family was in a poor state and the family wealth was dwindling. It would be a blight on their family name.
So, this must mean the young man was very influential and a pureblood, but had probably used an alias. Why would that be? he wondered distractedly.
He had a lot of work to do.
"How long will it take, Jacques?", Harry enquired.
"A fortnight", Jacques replied.
"Okay", Harry smiled, "I shall pay the advance now"
Harry quickly took out the card he had been given. It was a silver card with the Gringotts seal. Harry pricked his finger and placed a drop of his blood on a specific spot on the card before announcing the amount.
In gold colouring, the number of the amount he requested appeared on the card. He quickly slid the card into the card holder Jacques was holding. Again, a number appeared on the card holder indicating the amount that had been deposited.
The card holder was actually sort of a portal to transfer large sums of money from one vault to another. By now, his money would have been deposited in the company's vault.
This had been a recent development, in order to make transactions easier and faster.
Jacques suddenly said, "We still have to take your measurements"
Harry nodded and followed him to a small attached room with a mirror covering one side of the wall.
"You have to remove your clothes, James", Jacques muttered, blushing slightly.
Harry shrugged and quickly shed his clothes. He did not suffer from any sudden bout of embarrassment or shyness, since he very well knew he looked good; with lean muscles and a lithe form.
Harry quite enjoyed the expressions that passed Jacques' face. First awe, shyness, lust and then finally embarrassment at having been caught gawking at Harry.
Suddenly, the tape measure flew up into the air and began taking measurements. After the tape measure had flown back to its place, Harry on a sudden bout of mischief, Harry turned his back on Jacques and slowly deliberately bent down to pull on his pants, making sure that Jacques got a nice view of his boxer-clad arse. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry caught sight of Jacques flushing with his eyes firmly fixed on his backside and shifting in the same place; most probably to relive himself the hardness between his legs.
Stifling his chuckle, Harry buttoned his shirt and on a sudden impulse, Harry turned and tilted his head up to look at the older man through his lashes, before slightly brushing his lips against Jacques' warm ones. Then, Harry quickly pulled away and left the room with a short wave and a sultry smile directed at a stuttering Jacques.
After coming out of the boutique, Harry laughed. That had been fun. But, he wondered what had possessed him to do that. He wasn't one to suddenly kiss a stranger like that. Well, it wasn't a kiss exactly; more like a brush of the lips.
But, the point was that he had wanted to more than kiss Jacques back there. Why would that be?
Maybe his libido had increased along with his other senses. Wouldn't that be just wonderful? From what he'd learnt, his ancestors were very sexual creatures and from the journal, he could gather that they fucked around like bunnies all the time.
Shaking his head, he focused on the next thing he needed to buy. Armour and muggle clothes. Muggle clothes, he would buy tomorrow. Maybe armour he could buy now.
Harry then flooed to Knockturn alley. A few stores down, Harry spotted the shop with a board that read 'Forge Armoury and Weapons'
Harry was met by a withered old man, who quickly introduced himself as Mr. Forge.
"Well Mr. James, how may I help you?"
"I want an armour made. But before that, I would like to know the materials you use for the armour?", Harry asked curiously.
"Mostly dragon hide. I sometimes use uncommon materials like enchanted eel skins, basilisk skins and of that type. They are uncommon but mainly because they are hard to come by", the old man muttered in disgruntlement.
Harry cleared his throat. "Hmm...then I'd like an armour made from Dragon hide and another one from Basilisk skin", Harry said decisively.
"There is no-", the old man started.
Harry interrupted, "Yes. I know that you have no basilisk skin with you, which is why I will provide the skin myself for my armour."
"Would you perhaps be trading it?", Mr. Forge asked hopefully.
"No. I might have use of it in the future", Harry replied with an apologetic smile.
"Oh. okay then. But if you ever want to sell or trade it, please come to this shop", Mr. Forge pleaded.
Harry smiled and nodded in acceptance.
After another half an hour of taking measurements and examining armours, Harry left the shop. It was dark outside. He had stayed out longer than he intended. Not that the dark affected him anymore. He could clearly see everything even at night. If he had not known any better, he would have thought that he was a vampire, just minus the blood-drinking.
Harry suddenly stiffened. He slowly turned and narrowed his eyes as he considered what exactly he had sensed. It had been unnoticeable at first; but the longer he resisted, the more stronger and insistent the pull of magic became.
He knew he could break it off if he wanted, but his curiosity was piqued and he wanted to investigate. He strode in the direction from where he could feel that alluring pull.
It led to a run-down shop that somewhat resembled Borgin and Burkes. He slowly pushed the door open and immediately spotted the object that had been calling out for him from such a long way. It was a dagger. It was hard not to miss it when it pulsed with a strong blood red magic that felt... oh so powerful.
As if under a trance, he reached out a hand and took the dagger, from its case, in a firm grip. He ignored the note that rested in front of the dagger; obviously giving an explanation about the dagger. As soon as he held it in a strong grip, an electric jolt passed through him as the magic of the blade settled with his. The handle fit his palm perfectly. It was wrought with obsidian, intricately designed with inlaid diamonds. In contrast to the black hilt, the blade was sharp with a blood red sheen to it.
It was only then that Harry focused on the note. It read, " The Cursed Dagger. Origin Unknown. Suspected of existing from before the Middle Ages . The dagger has been seen throughout various cultural histories under many different names. Countless people lost their lives when they foolishly touched the dagger with their bare hands. Do not touch it unless you are wearing gloves. Even then, touch with caution."
Harry glanced admiringly at the blade. It was a beauty to be sure. Beautiful yet deadly. A single swipe from this blade on his enemy meant their imminent death. Truly beautiful.
Harry wondered why it had not harmed him. But then he shrugged it off. Magic worked in mysterious ways sometimes. It was better not to question it.
For the first time since entering, Harry took a long look around the shop. Finding no one at the counter, Harry simply took out a pouch that held five hundred galleons in it and deposited the bag on the counter. It was simply a token of thanks to the owner for having such a precious item in his collection which had, in turn, led him to gain possession of it.
Without knowing, he had walked a long way into the downtown Knockturn alley. Filthy drunk men and whores loitered in groups on the street leading to Diagon alley. Ignoring the catcalls, Harry walked with a calm confidence that at least stopped them from coming near him.
After walking for about twenty minutes, Harry took a sharp right turn that would shortly lead him into Diagon Alley, only to be approached by two wizards.
Harry quickly shifted so that he ended up with his back to the wall.
A tall bear like man rasped in a hoarse voice," Hey Paul. Look. Whatcha think this sweet pretty thing is doing about in a place like this?"
"Dunno. Maybe he was looking for big boys to play with him", the shorter one, Paul, sniggered.
Harry glared. He had no time for this. He wanted to leave without creating a scene. Bringing Malfoy to the fore front of his mind and his 'when my father hears of this...' tone, Harry lifted his chin and said haughtily, "If you lay a hand on me, you will sorely regret it"
The bear chuckled. "Lookie. He has claws. Maybe we should show him his place, eh Paul?"
The other one, Paul, advanced on him and grabbed his hip.
Harry snapped. Discretion be damned. Harry quickly pulled out his new dagger and slashed it along the arm that held him in a bruising grip.
Harry stood frozen, watching in fascination as the man's hand withered away to a grey pallor and froth began forming at his mouth while the greyness seemed to spread throughout his whole body. The man was dead within twenty seconds.
The bear man, whom he had forgotten about completely, hit him in the back with a cutting curse. Cursing, Harry quickly dodged the next incoming spell and lunged towards the man and slashed the man wherever he could reach.
It took him a minute to realize that the man was already dead. The blade which had been coated with blood gleamed under the light and Harry watched in appreciation as the blood was slowly absorbed by the blade itself causing it to shine eerily.
Harry wondered if he would feel guilt or sadness for what he had done. After all, he had cold bloodedly killed two men when it had not even been necessary to kill them in the first place. A broken bone or two would have been enough to derail those two idiots. No. He just had to kill them, didn't he? Because he had secretly wanted a scapegoat to see the effects of the cursed dagger. Wasn't that just sick?
When he neither felt guilty nor regret , maybe except for a small prickle of his conscience, Harry was surprised at his own lack of reaction; wondering whether he should be worried about this new revelation.
Harry reassured himself that he would ask his ancestors if it was just a side-effect from his change or if he was seriously messed up in the head because no normal person could be so calm after killing two people.
Harry glanced around and noticed two people looking at him with wide horrified eyes. Harry shot them a hard look which had them scampering off to whichever place they had crawled out of.
Carefully taking care to avoid glancing at the two dead bodies, Harry walked briskly until he reached the Gringotts' main doors where Silvertongue was waiting for him with an anxious expression on his face, which quickly turned to relief when he spotted him.
"I was just thinking about coming to look for you, Lord Potter."
Harry smiled. "I apologize for the delay, Gornun Silvertongue."
"It's alright, Lord Potter", Silvertongue waved off his apology.
With a parting good night to the goblin, Harry made his way to his assigned quarters. He was very excited about tomorrow. His eggs were about to hatch anytime now and he was going to meet a special wandmaker who would only make him one if he found him worthy. The goblins remained very tight-lipped about this person. So, it went without saying that he was very much looking forward to see him. Tomorrow couldn't come sooner for him.

A/N : I also have a question for you guys. You see, I had actually planned on Draco being Harry's first; but when I started writing the 'Jacques' character (who is quite important to the story, by the way) I started wondering whether Harry should have a brief fling with some other person before he gets together with Draco. Since, I can't make up my mind, I'll leave this to you. So, what do you all prefer?
There is an email alert list set up for this story. If you want regular chapter updates, drop me your mail id. Please RATE and REVIEW to lemme know what you think. They make my day.
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Independence of the Dark