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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
- 5
- 6
Draco Malfoy heaved the contents of his stomach into an alabaster toilet bowl approximately thirty seconds after entering his Manor. His shoulders shook as another wave of nausea took him, spitting and puking hydrochloric acid out of his body.

His jacket was too warm, so he threw it off. A second later his shirt followed.

“Uhh,” he moaned and threw up again, shaking with the force of it. Draco allowed himself to fall back into a sitting position against the wall. The cold of the tiles leached into his too hot body.

His face was wet with tears and his eyes red of them, though only the occasional sob hitched it’s way through his torso.

He was fucking pathetic. He scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and sniffed loudly.

It was the pent-up fear and anxiety... and the smell, the fucking scent of humanity that clung to Potter like cheap cologne, and his lukewarm human touch.

Draco’s finger nails dug into his calves, relax. Please relax.

“Relax, Draco! It’ll feel much better...”

Shut up! Shut up! His long pale hands shoved themselves into his hair and yanked it nearly from his head. He hated that there was no point in screaming anymore.

“Draco?” luminous eyes watched him from the door way, “Quid actum?” (What happened?)

He shook his head an extended a wrist, a thin silver chain glittered on it.

“Quod non quid te renidet ille.” (That’s not why you are crying.) She came and sat down next to him. Her scent was the coolness of the woods and it calmed him. Her short, bejewelled fingers traced a scar that curved his shoulder. He scarred easily, most of his of the marks on his body would have healed seamlessly on others, perhaps he lacked the will or the tenacity necessary to close wounds.

She hissed when she examined the bracelet, “Argentum. Eam non ardet vobis?” (silver. It does not burn you?)

He shook his head.

She pursed her colourless lips, “Affectum transibunt. Crede mihi, spatio transeunt universa.”(This feeling will pass. Trust me, given time, all things pass)

He shook his head again. All things do not pass. Some things, important things, linger. His stomach burned, but he was almost certain the nausea had passed. He wiped the tears from his eyes with a careless hand.

“Etiam, etiam,”(Yes, yes) she said irritably, “Recte dico, Draco Malfoy. Sequetur super hoc, et tu in volutabro nolite misereri se.”(I am right Draco Malfoy. You will get over this, and you will stop your wallowing in self pity.)

His head snapped up, rage written across his fair features. He pulled a note book and pen from his pocket and scrawled, SELF PITY?

“Etiam. Triennium tenetur you've te vinculis domus metu. Sine multo longiore et numquam salvageable. Tempus desistere luctus et tua lingua polluitur sanguine.” (Yes. For three years you’ve bound yourself to this house with chains of fear. Wait much longer, and you will never be salvageable. It is time to stop mourning your tongue and your polluted blood.)

I’m sorry,he scratched out, when last were you beaten? Raped? Starved, hung or tortured? When last did you find your mother’s fetid corpse hanging from a ceiling fan? So rotten and deformed she wasn’t his mother, but bag of bones and maggots.

“Numquam esse in sum polluta facile,”(Never in my existence have I been so easily defiled) she fucking sneered, and expression made even more terrible by the thick yellow fangs hovering over her upperlip.

Easily, the word was cramped and tiny under his large printed tirade above, EASILY! The paper tore under the force of his pen. I fought, I fucking fought them! I did!

“Mentiris utrique nostrum.”(You’re lying to both of us.)

Draco blinked, so he was. What was he supposed to say? That he never made a damn sound, that he just hung like a scarecrow waiting for his life to end? That his cowardliness, and his terror had incapacitated his pride and he was ready to beg, if only he had a voice to do so. That he would have willingly done anything to survive, that he’d never considered valiantly committing suicide, better to die on your feet than live on your knees [with cock in your mouth]. That he’d spilled every secret he could think of, that he had lowered his barriers to a thorough mind rape without even the thought of resistance.

“Quare non Draco? Quare non repugnare?” (Why didn’t you Draco? Why didn’t you fight back?) Her eyes still glittered hard as jewels, but her mouth had softened its dark expression. He knew she didn’t just mean in the Camps, but as a child, as Death Eater, why had he never grown a spine? Why had he taken the Mark? Why had he remained silent when his father came to him? Why had he repaired the Vanishing Cabinet and yet been unable to kill Dumbledore?

Because I was afraid

“Quid?”(Of what?)

Everything

Draco Malfoy had an epiphany on his bathroom floor in the stone cold arms of a vampire. He was, and had been since nearly birth the sole denizen of a hell of his own making. It would be cruel and perhaps inaccurate to say that everything that happened to him was his fault, it was true that he had done nothing to save himself from the horrors he experienced.

It was his own stupid fault that he was mute and bound by chains of terror to his loneliness. He had allowed himself to become this way. First, as a child he had deluded himself into believing in his own popularity. He had allowed his fear of his father to rule his entire existence. And he had become bitter, spiteful and full of hate, yet lacking the courage necessary to do anything that would make an impact. He could cuss and slander Potter, but he couldn’t stand up to him and defend what he believed in, or more accurately, what his father told him to believe.

He’d been afraid of thinking, he could see that now. If he wasn’t he would have seen the flaws in his families belief system, he would have seen his friends for the masks they wore and he would have seen himself for the bloodless, arrogant coward he was.

It was fear who had locked him up inside his mind and thrown away the key. It was fear who had cuffed him to his semen stained bed when the fire place was right there, right fucking there and in a few whispered words he would never have to see any of them again. It was fear who opened the vanishing cabinet, and fear who made Severus a murderer. It was fear who kept him from murdering the Death Eaters well they slept peacefully in his home.

And it was fear that ruled him now. Fear of humanity, fear of facing old demons and creating new ones.

“Neque tamen?”(Still there?)her voice was soft, and for the first time he could see the scars in her eyes, hard, brittle and plentiful.

Draco Malfoy nodded slowly and kissed her cheek. It was cool, moist and slightly spongy. Not human, but not unpleasant.
- 5
- 6
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Dead like a Phoenix