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Awakening To the Dream	By : ChimaeraChan Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 45316 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
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
- 1-CH1
- 2-CH2
- 3-CH3
- 4-CH4
- 5-CH5
- 6-CH6
- 7-CH7
- 8-Ch8
- 9-Ch9
- 10-Ch10
- 11-CH11
- 12-CH12
- 13-CH13
- 14-CH14
- 15-CH15
- 16-CH16
- 17-CH17
- 18-CH18
- 19-Ch19
- 20-CH20
- 21-CH21
- 22-Ch22
- 23-CH23
- 24-CH24
- 25-CH25
- 26-CH26
- 27-CH27
- 28-CH28
- 29-CH29
- 30-CH30
- 31-CH31
- 32-CH32
- 33-CH33
- 34-CH34
- 35-CH35
- 36-CH36
- 37-CH37
- 38-CH38
- 39-CH39
- 40-CH40
- 41-Ch41
- 42-Ch42
- 43-Ch43
- 44-Ch44
- 45-Ch45
- 46-Ch46
- 47-Ch47
- 48-Ch48
- 49-Ch49
- 50-Ch50 *End Part 1*
- 51-Ch51
- 52-Ch52
- 53-Ch53
- 54-Ch54
- 55-Ch55
- 56-CH56
- 57-CH57
- 58-CH58
- 59-CH59
- 60-CH60
- 61-CH61
- 62-CH62
- 63-CH63
- 64-CH64
- 65-CH65
- 66-CH66
- 67-CH67 *New 6/6/2015*
- 68-CH68
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CH68
It was only the next afternoon and Draco was extremely restless. That night Blaise and Clive had both nearly died and Harry had woken up momentarily. It had been a strange, terrifying night and Draco had wanted to make sure everyone was okay. But he had chosen not to visit his Incubui friends, nor Neville at that, after his Veela had caught the very distinct smell of sex emanating from the room.
Being in the same room with a sleeping and vulnerable Harry while fixated on sex had not done much for Draco's nerves. Rather, he was pretty sure he was going to lose his mind. The feeling had been so strong that Draco had begged Yehl to teach him to train somewhere else, just to stop his damn Veela from fixating.
Of course, he had not expected Roariel to be involved, or her damn attitude.
“I wish you would stop with the smart comments already.” Draco, his eyes tightly closed, swatted in the area he was certain Roariel was to be, only to miss and hit his hand on the wall. He howled in pain, bruises barely able to fit on the delicate, broken fingers. “You did that on purpose!”
“I can hardly be responsible for where you choose to hit,” Roariel said smugly. “If you were paying better attention you wouldn’t have missed.”
Draco’s only response was a growl. Roariel was helping after all, in the most annoying way possible.
“Try again now. Find me.”
Easier said then done, Draco thought as the rustle of wings greeted his ears. He tottered on unsteady legs, well aware in the darkness behind his eyelids how his equilibrium was off kilter from his daily dose of pain potions. He searched fruitlessly for minutes, then the telling sound of claw on stone turned him and he reached out, Roariel’s sleek feathers just grazing his fingers.
“That counts!” Draco said excitedly, opening his eyes. “Now you have to teach me!”
Roariel didn’t look convinced. “I don’t know. I barely felt it; the rules are you have to catch me.”
Yehl, who was leaning against the wall to keep from getting bumped into, stepped forward. “Enough teasing. If you were human he would have caught you multiple times already. The exercise has proved its point.”
“And that point would be?” Draco asked, impatience threatening to overtake him. He had spent the last hour playing the Draven’s games, and had gotten little to no answers to his questions.
“When you cast a spell with your hands, you are aware of using your thoughts, your voice, and your hands to focus the energy through your body.”
Draco shrugged. “Yeah… I guess. It happens so fast it all just seems an instant.”
“Yes, but when you are learning—and the wizards that have arrived to the school with no previous training are most aware of this—it is not an instant. It is a calculated chain of events that results in the use of your magic.” Yehl explained.
“Where we are from, it matters not how advanced a student is when coming to our learning facilities. They must learn how to take apart the process in which they do magic. Otherwise they can fall victim to freezing up under duress, even losing their ability to cast magic because of trauma or mental block. They will do as they have always done, but since they do not know the actual reasons their magic works, they will not be able to rediscover the ability.”
“Okay, there is a method to the madness, fine. Why the hell have you had me running around with my eyes closed all morning?”
Roariel grinned, ready to crack a joke at the boy’s expense, but Yehl stopped her with a mild look.
“You need to be aware of your eyes, and what better way then to take them from you for a while. Your eyes will not be of use vision wise when you cast a spell. You need to know that handicap, and not let it disable you once battle comes.”
“I won’t be able to see?” Draco did not like where this was going. Bad enough he couldn’t hold a wand, now it seemed he would be blind going into battle as well. “Is there any good news in all this?”
Roareil laughed. “Don’t be so bratty, little prince. Like you said, eventually it’s instantaneous. If you have any talent, the vision loss will be minimum at best, and you’ll be able to use your other functions as well, like walking and casting spells at the same time.”
“Vision is not as important as you think, especially in the realms of magic. You humans have grown so reliant on it that simple parlor tricks and glamours catch you as if they were awesome feats. Once you are aware and in control of your innate magical senses you will find the loss of your sight irrelevant.”
Draco wasn’t convinced. He knew from first hand experience that his sight was hardly irrelevant, especially when it came to avoiding dangers. “What do I have to do? How soon can I start? Will this take long? I have a lot of people looking to kill me, and most with the means to do it.”
“Settle down,” Yehl ordered in her soft way, infuriating and calming Draco all at the same time. “First you need to understand how it works.”
Draco pursed his lips. He walked shakily over to where a desk and chair had been set up in the unused classroom, pulling out parchment and quill which he charmed to record what Yehl was saying since his mind went foggy at times. He then sat and tapped his foot impatiently.
“Very well. For starters you need to be aware of how you usually do magic. As a human wizard you have been taught to tap into the well of energy fixated in your core. The reality is, you are tapping into your spirit, not something as obvious as your organs or nervous system.”
“Like the soul?” Draco asked, brows furrowed.
“Well it is difficult to describe in human terms… You have a soul, as you call it, that transcends the physical and death. The soul consists of the base foundation that is, in its essence, you. The spirit, or at least what consists of the life force, is more the energy needed to have the soul exist in a physical form. Because this energy is of both the soul, and the physical realm, it has powers allowing for the bending of the universe in times when this power is tapped into. This power is more commonly known as magic.
“If you want to get technical it is not officially magic unless there is a will behind it, and is really only raw energy until then, but for clarity sake magic will do. The important thing in all that I just said is that not all souls have enough power to generate magic the way wizards do.
“You humans are very grounded in the physical, unlike the Fae that walk on a different plane of existence. It is only through evolution and the mixing of bloodlines with the Fae that the few that can use magic do. You all posses the power within, but it is best suited within where it preserves your mortal life, than being wasted on the souls that cannot restore their energy.”
Draco nodded mutely, having gleaned the basic theory of magic throughout the years. Of course the gist of what Yehl had said had been mixed in with a dozen other half-baked theories that were running through the Wizarding World, some concerning Fae gods, and intelligent designs, and satanic worship. After all these years he’d have thought someone would have written a proper manual on it all.
“The first part of using your magic is through ‘will’. Without the desire you can accomplish nothing, as it is with most things. You want to float a flower overhead; you want to have a cooling breeze. When you desire something the soul reacts, producing energy as a response. People talk of their heart welling when they catch sight of one that they desire; it is all the same. The energy that is created with this will is now ready for an outlet.
“The hands are traditionally the focal point. The intricate nerves and the easy to focus points of the finger, plus the human instinct to touch and reach out with the hands makes them the logical choice. Humans talk with their hands, they see through their hands, they can feel vibrations and textures and they are well connected with the core of the body’s energy. Unlike the head that is ruled much by the higher functions of the brain.
“Once the energy is focused in the hands and consequently, wand, it is a simple matter of ‘seeing’ your target, ‘speaking’ the spell, and ‘signing’ the correct symbols with your hands to direct the energy outwards and will it to your duty.” Yehl waved her hands, imitating the motions of a spell.
“Now, a more traditionalist wizard, the ones more in touch with the Earth and the Fae, would forgo the wand, and they would simply ‘will’ the energy out through their hands. This is not a simple task, especially for the human soul being grounded as it is. But this will be our goal for you.
“Of course, the twisting of the synapses in your hands will hinder it. So we shall settle for the eyes, and with your Veelan powers already manifesting through them I think you shall have a talent for it—once you learn to identify it. The incident in the Great Hall is a big sign that you have no idea how to control your eyes.”
“Shutting them seems to work best,” Draco pointed out, although in the back of his mind he remembered how tight he had held them with little result on that morning.
“You do not need to see—as you are learning you will not even be able to when the time comes—to use your eyes. Magic is will, and it is a focus of that will. Without control there is very little one can do. You must be able to control yourself.”
Draco thought back to the moment before he had been attacked, for the first time wondering what his actions had done to cause the problem, instead of the annoying weakness all the others around him had to his power. Draco had not willed anything…not intentionally, anyways. But he had been thinking of Potter, and that certainly keyed into ‘desires’. Somehow that internal want must have crossed the borders of his energy and transformed into a call for Harry, every available body in the vicinity trying with all their might to answer it.
“Do you understand now?” Draco nodded, listening as Yehl continued. “For the next few days you must concentrate on your core, identifying your spirit and learning how to build it at will. Do this sitting, with your eyes closed in the beginning, and later while you are doing normal tasks. You must not let distractions keep you from your focus, it must be as simple as breathing, for even breathing becomes strained and befuddled when under duress.”
Draco wondered if the Fae wasn’t going easy on him in his condition, and he wanted to ask for something more to do than sit and focus on his energy. He had done enough of that when trying to remove the bloody collar; it couldn’t be much different. But he knew from the short time working with Yehl that whatever her motives she would not be swayed. Draco's pride taking a small hit, he gave his assent for now, and allowed Yehl to show him the best way to start the process.
It was very similar to before, but even more passive, with his goal much smaller. Draco could not help the defiant glare he gave when Yehl told him he was not focusing properly, or the subsequent words, “Do not coddle me! You already know how capable of this I am.”
“I know how capable you were, dragon.” Yehl gave him an accessing look before adding softer, “You are much changed from the boy I first met. I wonder if you still have the will when your heart is clouded so. You must prove yourself to me again, and to yourself, that you are still capable to be his Candidate. Do the exercises, and return to me when you are ready.”
Draco fell silent from the blow, anger, hurt, and most of all fear that she could be right burning through him. “Don’t get too content. I’ll be back sooner than you expect,” he said with a snarl, turning his back on the Fae, and stumbling to the door.
In his room, Draco spent the rest of the day meditating inward, searching and identifying his core energy like Yehl had instructed. He did not think of failure or of success, or what would happen in the result of either. He focused and focused until the world melted away around him and he only had his soul to keep him company.
*******
Draco had been spending the last five hours ignoring the new lump at the foot of his bed. It was easy enough seeing as it was a quiet lump. The only noise that came from its direction was the rare sigh. On occasion the lump would shift and steal another inch of the small hospital square of blanket all hospitals seemed to think was sufficient in keeping a body warm in the freezing climates hospitals insisted on dwelling in. Since the lump was also as toasty as a furnace, Draco was having a difficult time complaining about the loss.
All night Draco had been blissfully ignoring the lump, but as the dawn cracked through the windows and his leg was grabbed, and bitten, that luxury was gone.
“Potter, get your sodding teeth out of my thigh!” he hissed as loud as he dared, not wanting to draw Madame Pomfrey’s attention.
“…Hungry…”
Eyes widening comically, Draco snapped his leg away and wiggled to the head of the bed where his long legs were well out of reach. “I’m not breakfast, dimwit.”
Harry mumbled something Draco suspected was a crude remark to the contrary, and spread out onto the now spaciously free bed. Draco glared, realizing that it had been his ploy all along. “In the time that you’ve known me, have I ever struck you as a morning person?” And with that as his only warning, Draco attacked.
And stopped as Harry whined in pain. “Shit, sorry, sorry, I forgot!” In the back of his head he was yelling at Harry for being so stupid while not fully healed, and behind that Draco was yelling at himself for forgetting how stupid Harry could be. He quickly untangled himself from the boy, pausing when Harry’s bare chest came into view, the bandages removed to reveal healed flesh.
Something in Draco’s chest contracted, and his body tensed, blood roaring in his ears.
There was no scar to show that Harry had been on the brink of death, no reminder of the horrible event, or warning of what could happen when you underestimated your enemies. But there was something there. Dark, strange spots had appeared around where the Spear had entered Harry’s chest, and they had melted outwards, like a fungus of the flesh, or an array of bruises from internal bleeding. It left Draco feeling queasy, as if he were staring down from a great height at the world with his only support a long pole swinging and swaying violently in the air, destined to fall at any moment.
“…What is it?” Harry asked, finding Draco pale and shaken.
“I don’t know. I-I… I’m scared.” Incredulous, Draco met Harry’s eyes, unable to explain why. “This mark…”
Harry looked down, touching the dark flesh gingerly. “Madame Pomfrey thinks it’s just an after effect of the magic from the Spear. She didn’t seem too worried about it.”
Draco shook his head. He didn’t know why, or how he knew, but he was certain that Madame Pomfrey should be worried about it. They all should be.
Before Draco could voice his concern Harry grabbed his supporting arm, pulling him down to the bed with a squawk. “Something is different about you… You’re more feathery, I think. Ah, your collar is off, that’s it.” Harry cocked his head to the side, a wicked grin on his lips. “Bet you’re going through hell right now, huh?”
Draco blushed, trying to pull away but finding it difficult with his weak arms. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Harry smiled knowingly, pulling at Draco’s bright locks. Draco gave him a confused look when hands soothed deep into his hair and rubbed at his scalp. Harry’s face followed next, smelling up Draco’s neck and ear. “Yes… they’ll be chasing you around the castle soon enough…”
“I’m glad you find this funny, Potter,” Draco growled to cover his fluster. “Now let go of my hair before I bite your ear off.”
“In a moment. I’m imprinting you.” His voice a purr, Harry nuzzled into the base of Draco’s skull, his breath hot against the strands of silky hair. Draco’s eyes fluttered shut against his will, and the world tipped and spun the wrong way for a long moment. When Harry finally pulled back, Draco was dizzy and panting, his eyes bright with Veelan thoughts.
“We imprint through smell and touch,” Harry explained while intently watching Draco’s reactions. “Most feline based Fae are like that. I know it’s not the best time with the way you’re feeling, but after what you did for me… what you sacrificed…”
Harry gently pulled Draco’s bandaged hands into his, carefully tearing the material away as if it were mere tissue paper. “Can you ever forgive me for hurting you so badly? I cannot heal them since it was Nox Ămor’s power that caused it. But once you are released from your seal your Soul Form should take care of the wounds.”
Draco watched from far away as Harry pulled his distorted hands up and rubbed his cheek against them. It had to be a dream, he decided, when Harry’s mouth followed, moving over the scarred flesh reverently. No one would touch such deformed hands. Draco could barely stand to look at them never mind know that they were his. Potter could never be so kind...
“Draco…” Draco started, his eyes fixed to Harry’s. “Will you honor me by imprinting me, Draco?”
It took a moment for Draco to come to his senses enough to answer. “…You’re the Heir, Potter. You can’t choose one Candidate over the others before the Trial.”
Harry shrugged unconcernedly. “You saved my life. You’re my friend. I don’t need a trial to choose.” He gave an enticing smile and added, “would you really pass up this chance when I can hear your Veela calling?”
Draco would have blushed to death at the thought of Harry being able to hear his Veela, but since he had decided it must certainly be a dream, he really didn’t care. “Where?” he asked breathlessly, knowing any mark on Harry would be met with great scrutiny by mediwitch and Heir guardians alike.
“Anywhere you want. No, wait,” Harry amended suddenly, his gaze turned thoughtful. “Here,” he said, leading Draco’s hand. It was above where the scar should have been, and far enough away from the spots of dark flesh to keep Draco from hesitating. At the moment it was quiet, but at other times, when the two were separated, Harry felt Draco there in the center of his chest. It seemed fitting.
Draco sat back on his heels. “It takes blood for my kind.”
“I know.”
“Harry… I’m not—This is probably not the best time to do this. I’m…” Draco looked away, his voice breaking.
Harry grabbed his hand. “Please—”
Draco’s claws were slicing Harry’s skin before the word was fully out. Harry gasped, but made no complaint, instead shifting back so his elbows supported his weight on the bed. It felt extraordinarily right when Draco began to lick the wound, and Harry sighed and fell back completely.
Harry could feel the frantic energy coming off of Draco from his Veela. It had woken him a couple of times the last few days, calling him persistently. Harry had finally decided that the only way to deal with it was to not make a big deal about it. Certainly not talk to Draco about it because the boy was far too proud for his own good at times. Just… well, it wasn’t a difficult decision at all, not when it came to Draco.
“I think you’re done,” Harry said softly, pointing out that Draco had not stopped sucking at his skin for over five minutes. Draco looked up with hazy eyes, an inexpressible pain deep in the silver depth. “...It’s okay, just come here for a second.” Harry tugged lightly on Draco’s shoulder.
Robotically Draco positioned himself next to Harry on the bed, confusion and distrust clear on his face.
“Thank you for imprinting me, Draco. It means a lot to me.” Harry paid special attention to the Veelan energy, reading for any reaction while Draco watched him silently. “I like knowing that a part of me will always be with you, just like by imprinting you I have a piece of you with me.”
“…Do you really mean that?” Draco asked, his manner skittish when Harry began to scoot closer to him.
“Of course I do. I wouldn’t lie about something like that. I really missed you at White Towers, you know. You sent me your shirt and it just wasn’t enough. I missed having you near, not your scent.”
Draco groaned softly, covering his head with his arms. “Fuck, Harry, you’re killing me. You’re not supposed to say things like that.”
“Who cares.” Harry turned onto his stomach and propped his head on Draco’s thigh. He gently pulled at Draco’s arms until the boy met his gaze. “I’ve wanted to imprint you for ages now, I just didn’t have the courage. But since we’re both alive still I figure there is no point holding back now. Life can be horribly short, you know.”
“Harry, you don’t understand… This Veela thing…” Draco was caught between crying and laughing in hysterics. “Damn it, how do you do this to me? I’m going mad!”
“Ah, then I have succeeded much earlier than I planned,” Harry said with false seriousness, and sat up. He looked Draco over for a long moment, and then turned away.
“I better get into my own bed before Poppy freaks. You’re beautiful, by the way. Thought you should know.” He left the boy in Draco to stare in shock while the Veela preened in utter satisfaction from the attention.
Two hours later after Madame Pomfrey had fed them full of breakfast, potions and spells, Draco was finally able to speak with Harry alone again, which he did with a sneer, and the squeezing of Harry’s neck.
“Lie to me and I’ll snap your ruddy throat, Potter.” Harry nodded in agreement since it was difficult to talk without air.
“Good. Now is there somewhere in that tiny little brain of yours where you remember anything that happened from between the time you passed out after I removed the Spear, and the time you woke up and saved me in the Great Hall?”
Harry thought it over for a while; breathing wasn’t as tricky a problem as some would have thought for him. He then gently, and efficiently removed Draco’s hand, and twisted until the boy was on his knees. Draco still glaring magnificently, much to Harry's pleasure. “No. Why do you ask?”
“Nothing?” Draco persisted.
“Nothing. Well, some vague dreams and such. But really, I was passed out and all... what was there to remember?” He let Draco go, beaming brightly. “Why? Were you being naughty while I was sleeping?”
Draco growled and stood. “Shut up, prat. Were any of those dreams about me?”
“Wow, you’re vain.” Harry waited until Draco’s anger was near boiling before answering. “You were in a few of them. You seemed to be yelling a lot… not too far from reality, I suppose.”
Draco glared and stomped away, nearly falling over before he reached his bed.
“So, are you going to enlighten me?” Harry queried when Draco began to sulk into a book.
“It’s nothing.”
“…Was it about this morning?”
“Go bugger yourself, Potter!”
Only after Draco had efficiently shut his bed curtains did Harry let his smile free.
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Awakening To the Dream