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Strangeland	By : SilverEros Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 4170 -:- 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
- 5
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- 7
Title
Strangeland

Author
Silver Eros

Rating
R

Note
Thank you for all those that have reviewed! A special thank you to silverXserpent, bunnyb, and zoomaphonethepirate! The reviews were very inspiring! And as you have probably realized, the slash between Harry and Draco is slow in developing; but it needs to be that way to make sense. It would be odd if Harry suddenly falls in love with Draco when they’ve been enemies since the first day of school. lol. I really hope I was able to answer some of the confusion in the chapter! It’s not quite long but I’m going to hurry up and work on the next chapter! Thank you again!

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Chapter Six
The Final Decision

“Harry! Oh my god, Harry! Can you hear me?”

Someone - a female voice, was whimpering softly beside him. The noise in the background was loud. Worried voices, angry shouts, curses.

“He can’t hear us, ‘Mione! He’s knocked out!”

“Madam Hooch! Will he be alright? I don’t think he’s breathing!”

“We must get him to the Hospital Wing immediately! Everyone move back! Do not touch him!”

“Oh Ron! This can’t be happening - Harry can’t - can’t -” the girl was sobbing now.

“He’s not dead ‘Mione. Can’t be. He’ll be alright once Madam Pomfrey fixes him up.” the voice was throaty and unsure, despite the comforting words. “It’s all Malfoy’s bloody fault! I’ll kill him the next chance I’ve got!”

“Someone keep talking to him! We can’t let him drift away! Call his name!”

Another series of strangled sobs.

“Harry! Harry, mate! It’s us! It’s Ron and Hermione! Can you hear us?”

“Please Harry! Please open your eyes! Please wake up!”

“It’ll be alright, mate! Just hang on! We’re gonna get you the the hospital wing in a jiffy! You’ll be alright!”

“Hang on Harry! You have to hang on!”

“Come on Harry! Talk to us! Open your eyes! You’ll be fine! Everything’ll be okay!”

“Hang on! Hang on, hang on... hang on...... hang... on.........

Hang on.

With a gasp Harry’s eyes shot open and he felt the weight of his body returning heavily.

“Harry!”

He sat bolt upright, expecting to see a mop of flaming red hair and freckles, or a bush of brown hair and worried chocolate eyes, but it was like a bucket of ice water had been thrown over his head when he found Malfoy’s pale face only inches from his own, smiling and looking ecstatic.

A yelp slipped from his lips and he slammed his back into the wall behind him. He winced at the crack his spine made.

“Feel any better?” Malfoy asked, scooting forward to place a hand gently on Harry’s forehead. He looked relieved and took his hand away. “No fever. But - just in case, we should check your temperature.” Shaking a long thermometer between his fingers, he examined it briefly before jabbing it into Harry’s mouth.

Harry made a sound of complaint in the back of throat and tried to yank the instrument out, but realized that it wasn’t a muggle thermometer; it was magically stuck under his tongue.

“Thought I heard voices!” The curtains were drawn apart and Sirius stepped into view with an equally wide grin on his face. He was holding a large box and an awkward shaped bag that he was holding by the neck. “And how’s my favorite godson doing?”

Harry meant to cry out “SIRIUS!” both out of happiness of seeing him again, and despair at the knowledge that he was still in his dream state, but the sound only came out as a gurgle, due to the fact that his mouth was sealed shut by the thermometer.

“Ah, yes.” said Sirius with a chuckle, pulling up a stool next to Malfoy and nodding at the thermometer. “Sorry about that. Anyway!” he set the two items on the edge of Harry’s bed, a sly smile spreading across his handsome face. Whatever that was in the bag made a loud clinking noises, like glass against glass. “Brought us something to cheer you up, Harry.”

Sirius reached forward and lifted the lid of the box with a flourish.

Malfoy tilted his head to get a glimpse of the box’s contents.

“Extra chocolatey cauldron cakes!” Sirius exclaimed. “Dumbledore said you needed some chocolate, right?” Wiggling his eyebrows, he then put his hand into the crumpled bag and pulled out three glistening bottles of butterbeer and swung them back and forth. “Aaaaand, tada! Your favorite drink!”

Malfoy let out a snort and sat back in his chair. “First of all, I don’t think fatty, sugary cauldron cakes were what Dumbledore had in mind when he suggested some chocolate. And butterbeer, Sirius? You’ll get us kicked out if Madam Pomfrey finds us with it in the infirmary.”

“Such a bright ray of sunshine, aren’t you, Draco?” Sirius commented, proceeding to pop the caps of all three bottles expertly with his thumb. “As long as we keep it down, she’ll notice nothing.”

There was a quiet beeping noise and even before Harry could notice that it was coming from his mouth, Malfoy reached over and took the thermometer out and held it to the lamplight.

“As I thought, no fever. And it says that you’re perfectly healthy too, although a bit on the thin side.” he tossed the thermometer carelessly into the nightstand drawer and gave Harry a sincere smile. “So, do you want to talk about the nightmares you’ve been having? Dumbledore was worried and said that you should get it all out of your system.”

“Yeah, go on, tell us.” Sirius insisted thickly through a mouthful of cake. He took a swig of his butterbeer and cleared his throat. “I really want to know what this whole thing of having parties at my place is about.”

“They’re not parties.” Harry sighed, taking a cake for himself. He knew now that this was just a dream, and that it would be pointless to act as if it weren’t. He might as well just go with flow, even if it was the hardest thing he’d ever had to endure - seeing and talking to Sirius as if this was how it’d been all along. “They’re meetings.”

“Ohhhh.” Sirius said wisely. “I see. So they’re formal?”

“Pretty formal.” he replied quietly. He could feel tears stinging his eyelids again. No! A voice said in his head. He couldn’t start crying now. Being sad would only make the situation less bearable. Even if it was an illusional Sirius that was sitting in front of him now, he still didn’t want to look weak and pathetic. He wanted Sirius to see that he was strong. Capable of surviving on his own. A part of him, Harry decided, was angry at his godfather for dying and leaving him alone just when he’d begun to believe that maybe he’d be able to live with him in the near future. Grimmauld place had started to look like a home to him, even with all the evil looking portraits and dust. He wouldn’t mind Mrs. Black’s screeching half as much, and he wouldn’t mind the foul glares from Kreacher, if only Sirius was there with him every summer.

His arms ached to throw themselves around Sirius and cling to him like he were his only buoy in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. He wanted to cry and tell him that he’d missed him and that he never wanted him to leave again. But no. Doing those things would only break his heart even more when it came time to wake up. If he acted distant, maybe Sirius would become distant too. That way it would be easier for Harry.

It was Sirius’s voice that brought him back from his stupor.

“.... So? What else? That can’t be all of it.”

Harry blinked away his tears and turned his head so that they wouldn’t be able to see his face.

Malfoy was slurping his own butterbeer daintily with a color-changing straw. He licked his lips and sighed contentedly.

“By the way, Harry.” the blonde said, his eyes glinting with mischievous interest. “How did you manage to get past that gargoyle?”

Sirius clapped his hands and leaned in. “Exactly! We were talking about that earlier, when you were still sleeping. How did you figure it out? Knowing you, I’d have thought you’d never be able to crack it.”

Harry frowned. “I didn’t. Well, I don’t think I did at least. I just kicked it and told it to open - and it did.”

“Are you sure you didn’t dirty your tongue a bit, hm?” Sirius grinned slyly.

A blush creeped across Harry’s face and his eyes widened.

“Ah, so you did swear!”

“ ‘Bloody hell!’ to be exact, wasn’t it?” Draco laughed, eyeing Harry fondly. “Pity we weren’t there to hear it. It would have been worth millions.”

Harry couldn’t help but smile slightly. “Yeah right, like Dumbledore would set a password like that.”

Sirius smirked and stuffed the last bite of his tasty morsel into his mouth and said, as he was licking his fingers, “It wasn’t Dumbledore that set it, obviously. I asked him if he’d let me think of a new password just for the afternoon and he gave me permission. ‘Bloody hell’ wasn’t my choice though, thanks to our dear Draco, here.” Sirius mock-scowled at Malfoy and flicked him on the temple.

Malfoy rolled his eyes, hand going up instinctively to smooth out his disrupted hair. “I didn’t mean to set it to that,” he drawled. “No one warned me that the Gargoyle actually moves. And by the time the words were out of my mouth, the Gargoyle had ate them up and we couldn’t re-change it.”

“But back to you Harry, the nightmares.” Sirius said suddenly, his expression somber. “I remember you said something about me being dead, and Lily and James being dead... what was all that about?”

The bottle slipped from Harry’s fingers, but he caught it before it emptied onto his sheets.

“M - my parents...” said Harry, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Malfoy soothed Harry’s thigh, and Harry felt an odd jolt in the pit of his stomach, but he tried to brush it away by focusing his gaze on Sirius.

He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair; a nervous habit of his.

“It doesn’t matter.” he shrugged, trying to sound casual. “I mean, I’m just dreaming anyway.”

“But talking about your nightmares will make it better. Come on, talk to us.” Sirius coaxed, a paternal concern coming over his face.

But Harry closed his eyes, finally giving into the wreck he was feeling. “No,” he said under his breath, burying his face in his hands. “Go away. I’m not having nightmares. Just let me wake up... Please.”

Sirius’s hand was on his shoulder. “Harry, it’s alright. We’re here for you.”

“No you’re not!” he bit out, feeling his simmering temper boiling again and shooting Sirius the nastiest glare that he could. “You’re not here for me! You’ll never be here for me! You left me!” he let out a shuddering breath, and he looked away, biting his lip. “But you know what? I’m okay with that now. I’ve come this far by myself. I don’t need anyone to be there for me anymore.”

“Harry, what are you talking about? Of course I’m here for you. And I’ll always be here for you, no matter what. So will your mother and father.”

“And me.” Draco added.

Sirius smiled. “Yes, and Draco. We all love you and we all care about you, Harry.”

But Harry’s heart was set. He wasn’t going to let this Sirius break through the lock he’d placed with painstaking effort. He wasn’t going to let his vulnerability get the better of him. He wasn’t going to lose.

“Fine. You want to know the truth?” Harry spat, putting as much distance in between him and the other two as possible. “You’re not real. And this isn’t real. THIS is my nightmare, and when I wake up, you’ll be gone Sirius. And Malfoy will go back to hating me like he should. My parents will be dead, you’ll be dead, and I’ll have my bloody scar back on my forehead. My life will go back to being hell, and I’ll hate every minute of it!” he slumped back into his bed and yanked the comforter over his head, chest heaving and cheeks flushed with fury and resentment. He knew he was right, whether or not he wanted to believe his own words. He might as well accept the truth; there was no hope for him after all.

He could almost feel the heat of Malfoy’s gaze on him, even through the thick layer of down. The hand on his thigh was still there, and it was trembling slightly.

“You know what? This is funny anymore, Harry.” Malfoy’s voice snapped, full of annoyance. “I never said anything about hating you and you’re just acting ridiculous! I don’t know and I don’t care what kind of stupid dreams you’ve seen, but the way you’ve been treating me today is like shit. You flinch everytime I touch you, you hardly look at me in the face -”

“Draco -” Sirius said wearily.

“No!” Malfoy cut in. “Harry, if you’re sick of being my friend, why don’t you just tell me instead of making such a big deal about it?!”

For some reason, even though it shouldn’t have meant anything to Harry, Malfoy’s words stung him like a slap across the face. He hesitated before slowly lowering the cover to his chest.

Malfoy’s face was flushed and his light grey eyes were flashing indignantly. He snatched his hand back and stood up.

Harry honestly couldn’t say which Malfoy he preferred. Malfoy’s performance had been enough to momentarily take his mind away from Sirius and he could only stare silently at the blonde teen. In reality, Malfoy was an unbearable, stuck-up, spiteful, everything-related-to-Harry-Potter hating Slytherin. On most daily occasions, he’d go out of his way to create mayhem and trouble for the Gryffindors. This Malfoy, however his sincerity and affection, unnerved Harry to the point where he found himself incapable of speech. He was used to throwing back insults and much name-calling, but definitely not the soft touches or the soothings. It seemed that in this dream, Malfoy was his friend. He didn’t know how to deal with that.

“Well, Harry?” Sirius asked in a pointed tone, clearly telling him to deny all that Malfoy had accused him of.

“Uh ...” said Harry lamely.

But at that moment, his mind began working at double-speed. It was whirring and spinning like a well-oiled pocketwatch on fastforward. A headache like a migraine attacked him and he clamped his hand over his forehead, groaning in pain.

Images, thoughts, memories. They were all piecing them together one by one; like a huge puzzle.

A messy scrawl on a long roll of parchment began to unravel inside his mind. It was flashing sentences two seconds at a time. His own writing.

October 31st, 1981
James and Lily Potter killed.
Recieved a scar on my forehead.

September 1st, 1991
Started Hogwarts.
Met Malfoy on the train, refused to be his friend.

June 4th, 1992
Second encounter with Voldemort
Sorcerer’s stone destroyed.

December 18th,1992
Students attacked in school.
Talked Parsel Tongue.
Accused of being the heir of Slytherin.

May 29th, 1993
Third encounter with Voldemort in the form of a memory from his diary as Tom Marvollo Riddle.
Destroyed diary.

June 9th, 1994
Wormtail escapes. Padfoot is innocent.

August 25th, 1994
Muggles tortured at Quidditch World Cup by Death Eaters.
Dark Mark in the sky.

June 24th, 1995
Fourth encounter with Voldemort.
Returned to full power, kills Cedric.

November 5th, 1995
The D.A. created.

June 13th, 1996
Department of Mysteries, Death Eaters attack.
Padfoot dies.

Harry realized at that moment, that these dates were excerpts from his own timeline chart from Divination. They were all the ones that Harry had wished he could erase, the ones that made him hate his life more than anything.

But what does it mean?? He cried out silently, nails digging into his forehead in frustration and pain. What did his divination chart have to do with anything?

Someone was shaking his shoulder.

He scrunched up his face in concentration. His head throbbing worse even, then the times his scar hurt whenever Voldemort tried to enter his mind.

Stop! He begged himself in vain. He might have been pulling tufts of his hair out, it hurt so much...

Through the agony, he tried to remember what he’d learnt of his dream today.

Sirius was alive.

His parents were alive.

Malfoy was his friend.

There was no Order of the Phoenix.

He didn’t have a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead.

And it came to him. It came to him exactly as if a lightbulb had been switched on somewhere. The pressure lifted off his head and he found that he could open his eyes again. Sirius had him grabbed by the shoulders, shaking him clamorously and calling his name over and over again. Malfoy’s face had gone pale once more.

“Book!” shouted Harry, glancing at Malfoy urgently. “Get me a Divination text!”

“Wha-” both Malfoy and Sirius had released him and were looking very confused. “Divination text? What for?”

“Just get me one!” he said again, more desperately.

“I think I’ve got my copy in my bag...” said Malfoy, whirling around to grab his bookbag that had conveniently been sitting in an empty chair. “Divination....” he began digging around in his bag, pulling out one book after another, shaking his head each time. Finally at the bottom of his bag, he found it and hurriedly brought it over to Harry, who snatched it up without even remembering to thank him, and began flipping pages by tens and twenties.

“Dammit! what was the page number?” Harry muttered to himself, his eyes scanning chapter titles every now and then. “Something about the past... Past... past....”

“You mean, ‘Past Becoming Future’?” Malfoy offered.

“Yes! That!” Harry exclaimed loudly, flipping back to the table of contents. He ran his thumb down the list of chapters and jabbed the page when he found the right one. “Page ninety-eight!”

Page ninety-eight was free of snitches and sketches of Malfoy doubling over. It was exactly how it should be.

Harry read down the instructions, making sure to reread each and every one carefully. By the end of the first paragraph, he could tell that he hadn’t misread or misunderstood anything. He continued on.

‘First, swirl your cup five times until the dregs have resurfaced again. Then think the words, ‘Un monde imaginaire’ and proceed to drink the entire cup of tea.’

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Harry could feel it in his chest. But what was it?

He steadied the paragraph again.

Un monde imaginaire... Harry said silently to himself. Un monde imaginaire... Then he remembered the footnote at the bottom of the page. He quickly shifted his gaze lower. It took him a few seconds to realize the walloping mistake he’d made.

“Oh shit.” he swore in barely a whisper, covering his mouth in horror. He couldn’t believe his stupidity. Was this even possible?

‘An alternative form of soul interpretations that is remarkably similar to the one above, is one that many wizards and witches of the past have tried and failed. By replacing the incantation with “Un monde imaginaire”, in most cases, the transformation of your past becomes permanent. It is here that it differs from the former spell. This particular spell is not solely for the purpose of divination. Most use it to alter their past to what they consider preferable.’

The book fell to the floor with a thud.

It wouldn’t have been unfitting if he passed out just now, Harry thought. His eyes weren’t focused and although there was no longer any pain, he felt that his dizziness would have been equivalent to that of being knocked in the head with a Bludger. He couldn’t tell if he was sweating or if he was shivering. He couldn’t tell if he was talking out loud or if he was absolutely silent. He could only half-see Sirius and Malfoy staring back at him with knitted brows, as if they were trying to figure out what in the world was wrong with Harry.

So this wasn’t a dream.

But neither was it an alternative universe.

He could hardly understand it himself, yet the answer was so simple. This world was a figment of his imagination; a world that hadn’t existed until the moment he’d stepped foot in it. A world that had been created wholey from his mind, a perfection of his real life. No, it was his life now. So did that mean that the other life didn’t exist anymore?

Panicked, would have been a very mild word to describe how Harry was feeling now. He was much beyond panicked. This hadn’t been what he wanted at all. He wanted Sirius back, yes, but why was he friends with Malfoy? What about Ron and Hermione? Was he still in Gryffindor? Was he still known throughout the world? Or was he a nobody? A nobody that no one cared a damn about?

He was scared. Very scared. For the first time in his life. Not even Voldemort could spawn such fear. And Voldemort didn’t even exist in this life...

What had he to do? Should he tell Sirius and Malfoy about it? Would they even understand? Or maybe Dumbledore would have an answer, like he always did.

“I need to see Dumbledore!” Harry said, his voice high pitched. He started climbing out of bed, for what seemed like the hundredth time that day.

“Again? But you just saw him!” Malfoy exclaimed, getting up from his chair too. “What’s wrong? What just happened?”

“You should stay here until you’re feeling better, Harry,” said Sirius. He tried to force Harry back into bed, but Harry shied away from his touch, trembling.

Harry lowered his gaze and slipped on his shoes. He couldn’t look him in the eye. “Don’t come with me,” he whispered, and he took off out the door.

Five minutes later, he was back in front of the stone Gargoyle, those swearwords on the tip of his tongue and his heart beating a mile a minute.

If he talked to Dumbledore, he was sure that a way would be found for him to return to his normal life. There wasn’t anything that Dumbledore couldn’t do. Was there?

He swallowed and continued to stare at the Gargoyle, who’s face was hard and empty of emotions.

But what if Dumbledore couldn’t find an answer? He only human, even though at times, he seemed so much more... but then, Harry remembered all those things Dumbledore had told him in his office after Sirius’s death. How he’d kept the prophesy from Harry because each year, he still thought that Harry had been too young to deal with such shocking detail. How there were so many other things that he’d kept secret, knowning that Harry wouldn’t be able to accept such facts so early in his life. How he’d argued with himself on countless occasions when face to face with Harry, between what was right, and what was true.

He was only human, Harry concluded silently. And with this thought, his chest tightened. It was something that he didn’t want to acknowledge. Dumbledore had been his only aid through all this. But he was only human.

And then, other thoughts began to drift into his mind.

If they did happen to find a way to get Harry back, he would have to return to a world where his life was empty of Sirius. Of his parents... in this life, no one expected him to defeat a Dark Lord that could not be defeated. No one expected him to fulfill a stupid prophesy that an old fraud had voiced nearly two decades ago. This life seemed so much easier, and so less stressful... After all, this. This was a life that had been created from scratch. Scratch that was Harry’s deepest desires, hopes, dreams... it was supposed to be perfect in every way. Should he be complaining? Shouldn’t he be ecstatic that he’d made the mistake in Divination?

I should. He realized, startled at his own stupidity. This is what I’ve wanted all along, right? This is what I wish my life would have been like... no Dursleys, parents who loved him, a healthy godfather, a calm life...

The gargoyle wasn’t looking so inviting anymore, to Harry’s new found determination. He didn’t need Dumbledore. He had a family, like all children should. He was going to be happy, something that he hadn’t been for the longest time.

And with that, he turned on his heel and walked back to the infirmary, where his new life was waiting for him.

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A/N
Lots of hormones and angsty anger, huh? Yeah, he needs to let it out!
Please review! They feed me to write on! Thank you! XxXxXxXx
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Strangeland