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Long Strides to a Short Walk	By : EmeraldGrey Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 5988 -:- 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
- 1-1
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-9a
- 10-9b
- 11-9c
- 12-10
- 13-11
- 6
- 7
- 8
D/H Slashfiction

PG-13 to NC-17

Long Strides to a Short Walk

By Emerald Grey

*PLEASE see Chapter 1 for all Disclaimers, Warnings, Pairings, Summaries & Dedications*

**~~**Chapter 7**~~**

He sat in the tub, body reclining slowly as he stretched out long lean muscles with cat like grace.

He scooted down until the back of his head just touching the edge, his slender neck resting comfortably on the sea foam green bath cushion as he wiggled, scootching further downward until his chin met the white fluffy satiny foam of vanilla scented bubbles.

~sigh~

Marvelling not for the first time at the wonderful blend of Muggle ingenuity combined with Wizardry convenience, he decided it made life just that much more enjoyable, when the tub magically elongated to accommodate his 6' slender frame.

~sigh~

Taking a deep breath, he sank quickly down, until completely submerged, long slim fingers threading through his dark golden locks.

With a little push off with his toes at the other end of the bathtub, he then sat up, reaching for the small shampoo/conditioner packet on the little silver tray curled around the edge of the white old-fashioned antique-gold ball and claw tub.

Tearing open a corner, his white teeth flashed, and he curled his tongue, then sharply flung it forward as he spat the tiny foil piece out of his mouth, onto the floor.

Pouring the pearlescent creamy mixture into the palm of one hand, he then tossed the tiny silver packet embossed with a large monogrammed 'B' carelessly over one shoulder onto the floor as rubbing his hands together, he raised them to distribute the shampoo through his long thick hair, carefully massaging it in.

It was times like this when those dark memories would hit, and, without warning, he was slung back into an even darker past.

Only, this time, Ti was not there to hold back his demons.

~~*******~~

flashback

~~*******~~

"You fucking bitch!" Screamed the tall lean blonde man.

"If I fucking told you once Tricella Dearest," He shouted, "I've told you a thousand fucking times, NOT. IN. FRONT. OF. THE. KID! Who else saw you?! DID ANY OF THOSE FREAKS COME HERE TO MY HOME!? DID MY FREAK PARENTS SHOW THEIR FACES HERE BECAUSE I WAS GONE?! WHAT ELSE HAVE YOU BEEN DOING BEHIND MY BACK!? HOW CAN I EVEN BE SURE THE BRAT'S MINE?! HE SURE AS FUCK DOESN'T ACT LIKE ME! I WAS NEVER A FUCKING SISSY FAGGOT! DAMMIT, WOMAN, TELL ME NOW!"

Striking out suddenly, and with the precision of a deadly snake, he backslaps the cowering slender woman hard with one large hand, smiling grimly, as her slight body slams heavily against the black leather couch, falling to rest against the buttery soft seat.

"Whatsa' matter 'Luv,'" the cruel American voice switching to an exaggerated English drawl as he sneers down at her, his handsome face splitting into an evil smile, spitting out the endearment with malice.

She stares hatefully up at him, her aqua eyes narrowing, her fingers nervously pushing heavy dark gold hair out of her eyes, said eyes then widening as she saw what he now held.

"Oh, God NO! Please! Justian! It was, I, we, did it for Re's Birthday! He's only gonna be six once, I just, I wanted to make it special! What are you going to do IF he IS magical?! It's his Heritage! Just because you can't, I mean, How did you find out about the party? NO please! I BEG you! Not my wand! I've had that since I was a child, and, and," she babbled wildly, words trailing, her eyes rounding now as he's placing a strong hand at each end,**SNAP** and the lavish large room resounds with the sounds of a broken wand, and broken dreams, as the beautiful young woman laid her swollen reddened cheek on her slender arms and wept.

The skinny little six year old boy swallows a gasp, covering his tiny rosebud mouth with his small slender hands watching helplessly as his bigger Father grabs up his smaller Mother by her long dark gold hair and hits her with his large fist again, and again, until her once pretty face becomes unrecognisable.

Blood ran down her heart-shaped face, soaking into her pale-peach colored blouse, staining it, dark-red.

Choking down the screams that threatened to explode out of his tiny chest, the little boy could only grieve in silence and watch as his Father beat his Mother.

He should of been used to it by now, because no matter how many times it happened, she would just smile, even if she was missing a tooth, as speaking in an unfamiliar language with a swish and a wave of her 'magic stick' she would be even better than before.

It was only when he'd accidentally left his brand-new training bicycle, (the bike had been an early birthday present from his Father) laying in the black gravel of the large circular drive, did he find out just how important that pretty pale white stick actually was.

It was the first time his Father had ever taken his anger out on him.

He had called him into his dark study the only light was a small green lamp on his large mahogany desk.

When he barked for him to 'sit' the boy�s little round ass had hit the seat so quickly, he'd almost fell out of the big black leather chair.

The handsome man glared, pursed his full pink lips then spat, "Son," never by his first name, that was too personal.

"What did I tell you concerning your possessions?" He growled.

Tears welled in the little blue-green eyes, threatening to spill.

His tiny chin quivered but he didn't dare cry, because to show any weakness meant to invite even more problems.

But, this was what Father wanted, to have him cowering, to totally control and humiliate him.

As he closed his eyes, big fat tears fell hotly down his little face, his slender body shook with rage at the man he called 'Father'.

Never 'Daddy' it wasn't allowed. It was an endearment, too personal, and Justian Rae Standish would NEVER let that happen.

Soon, the room echoed with taunts of "Faggot, should of bought you a damn DOLL instead! Worthless little queer! Waste of good sperm! Sorry excuse for an Heir!"

Each hurtful word was punctuated by sharp kicks, and hits.

His small cries turned animalistic, as the tiny boy curled into himself, and prayed to just die, the pain was so horrible.

The last sound he heard was the *crack* of several ribs, then his eyes rolled back, his tiny body now slack, and he knew no more.

After his Father had finished up with his idea of parenting he'd smirked darkly, and swept out the room, bellowing for his driver.

Not long after her tyrant of a Husband left their Manor, the little boys Mother had found him in the study in a bloody little heap.

After waking him up with magic, she had waved her wand, kissed his cheek, and informed him his Father would be out of town, out of the country for a week, on business..

He'd been soooooooo excited! That meant his Father would miss his birthday!

Happily he put his little arms around her neck, and allowed her to carry him into the kitchens so he could help plan his party! He was going to be six years old!

The day came, and the Manor had never looked better. He'd watched in awe as his beautiful Mother had waved her pale white magic stick, and all kinds of wonderful things appeared. A huge carousal, with regular animals and make believe ones as well,

was the first thing she conjured.

It looked like any normal one he'd rode on before. But, looks could be deceiving. The lions really roared, not too scary, but still! All of the other animals made their sounds too.

Colors, those he knew and several he'd never seen, appeared, filling the air with rainbows and sparkles.

Once she'd finished with the outside, they went back inside.

He watched, clapping his tiny hands with glee, as she lit their huge fireplace, and it turned a pretty apple green.

He jumped up and down, when people came tumbling out of it!

"Grammie! Papa!" He squealed, bouncing into their arms, getting soot all over as he hugged and hugged them.

He looked up at his grandparents, a tiny smirk played at the corners of his little mouth as he said, "Mother is going to let me help decorate! I want Dragons, an Knights, an..."

" Whoa, hold on Tiger," His Grandfather chuckled, tapping him on his little pert nose, and setting the boy to his feet.

A tiny pout kissed his mouth, as the little boy looked beseechingly up at his Mother, "Mother, we simply MUST hurry! The other children shall be arriving soon!"

She had just smiled down at him with all the love she could ever hold for him, shining in her aqua eyes.

"Of course poppet."

It had been one of the best birthdays, ever.

Unfortunately, it had also been his last. With her.

After bidding goodbye to his classmates, and his Grandparents, the little boy had giggled softly, as he watched his Mother, clean up their grounds.

*Poof!* and the popcorn man disappeared! *Poof!* And the cotton-candy man was no more! *POOF!* And the carousal was gone with a loud *pop!*

But, the next noise they heard, made their blood freeze in their veins, slowly forming into ice.

"JUST WHAT IN SAM HELL IS GOING ON?"

And now, because of him, his Mother was being punished severely.

The blood ran crimson from her many wounds as the little boy watched, misery etching his small face. It was all his fault. She'd disobeyed his Father's no magic rule, and now, without her wand, she would not heal.

Justian Rea Standish HATED magic.

He was no mere Muggle. The only son of wealthy, Magickal, American parents, he'd been the apple of their eye.

His sixth birthday came and went, still no magical signs.

That was until his eleventh birthday, and when no Hogwarts letter arrived by owl post but his Cousins had all gotten theirs, the little boy had become reclusive.

His parents had given him private instructors rather then risk the fact he might accidentally 'out' them to the Muggles.

As that year closed, and a new one dawned, he and his parents knew the horrible truth.

He was a squib.

He would never be the same.

The once happy beautiful boy, slowly turned into himself becoming bitter tuning everyone out. Shunned by both sides, pitied by all except 'her', Tricella Elizabeth Black.

He'd met her at one of the many Balls his family made him go to. It was somewhere in England, at a place called 'Malfoy manor.' He'd had more than his fill of being snubbed by his Wizardry betters. And then, he'd seen her.

His breath catching in his throat, at her beauty.

She looked like Sleeping Beauty, Princess Aurora, his favorite Muggle fairy tale come to life. Theirs had been a whirlwind romance, it had been so wonderful.

Until her family, realizing that their daughters 'fling' with the handsome young American was way out of hand. At her birth, she'd been chosen to wed a Pureblood.

Tricella was a 'Black'. And as such, she would do as her Cousins, and others had, and place Family, and Family loyalty above all.

Justian had then been very surprised when not long after he'd departed back to the

States, without his love, there she was, smiling down at him, as she appeared in his room, in America, all the way from England.

They had left that night, never looking back, and eloped.

After the birth of their Son, on HIS family's side, all had been forgiven, the only stipulation Justian had made was this, NO magic around his son. NONE. He wanted him to be normal.

The young girl had not been so lucky, the young Witch had been disowned, her family having not know about her only child's existence.

OR so she thought.

Unknown to her, her 'birth bracelet' (the bracelet given to each Black child the day after their birth on their Naming Day), alerted her Godparent whom had received

an identical one at the Naming Ceremony.

So, regardless of the fact her own family had disowned her because of disloyalty, her Godparent had done NO such thing, as they were magically bound until death.

Something is building in the young Standish Heir as he watches his Father insane with jealousy, beat the life slowly out of his Mother.

Still screaming at her, he yelled, "Dammit! Tricella! I told you, they are not to see him if they are going to influence him!"

He held her by her arms out in front of him, her head lolled to one side, as he shook her sharply, " I don't want him around 'your kind.' " He spat.

" It's bad enough his Mother is a Witch, but I won't have you ruining him. You give him stupid nicknames, you baby him, you allow him to show weakness! Why, even after the well deserved beating I gave him for showing disrespect, YOU stepped in and rescued him.

How did I know? The servants Dear, not only do they serve me? I own them. They told me also of the blasphemy going on in my own home! You have been teaching him magic�s! Behind my FUCKING back! Knowing how I feel. Well, no more. I will beat the stubbornness and the fucking magic OUT of you AND him too if I see any signs of it! Do you HEAR me Tricella?!"

What happened next, the little boy blamed himself for, and still did to this day.

Something hit his Father, covering him in a bright orange flame, causing him to slip on his Mothers blood, as his foot slid on the smooth black marble floor, causing him to crash into her, knocking them BOTH through the grate of the fire place. The last thing the startled man saw was his wife's bloody body rolling away from the flames, as he was being slowly pulled into them.

Grabbing a throw from her chair, the little boy threw it over his Mother's bleeding burning body, smothering out the flames as best he could with his little hands.

Pulling back the cover, looking at her, totally ignoring the screaming and pleading from the man being devoured by the red-gold flames in the fireplace, turning his back, he held shaking small hands over his Mother's beaten face, and with the edge of the throw, tried his best to wipe off the blood. She'd smiled as best she could, whispering, "I love you Re", and then had died.

When his Father had pulled back his fist, that one last time, the little boy had felt something from deep inside churn upward and out of his small hands. Sparks shot from his finger tips, as he held out both slim hands, pointing them at his Father. No matter how he'd tried to justify it, he'd killed BOTH of his Parents.

Moments later, he heard the familiar noise in the fireplace.

Scrambling quickly over the edge of the couch, he peeked across it, watching as the flames turned light green, signalling the arrival of someone magical.

His breath caught, and he shivered as three strangers, two older men, one tall with dark brown hair, and one tall with blonde hair, and a little boy who looked to be his age tumbled out of his fireplace.

His little aqua eyes missing nothing as both men hurried to his Mothers side.

He watched the dark haired man wipe a tear from his eye, and the blonde haired man place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

The little boy just stood there, looking down at her.

"Is she, is she dead, Papa?"

Both men bowed their heads, ignoring him for a moment. At last, one spoke. "Yes Son, she's passed away."

"But, how? Why? Can't you do something? Are you both not powerful Wizards! Bring her back, NOW! I, I wish to meet her! I don't understand? Father never said much about her, except she was a Cousin, and she'd had a son my age, and someday I could meet him, and, " the little blonde boy said, full of a child's frustrations as he balled up both little hands into fists.

"Ti, come here Son," The dark haired man said, bending down holding out his arms to the child.

Picking him up, he balanced him on his hip, and he looked over the boys slim shoulder and said, "Play it."

And, as the last moments of Tricella Elizabeth Standish Black's life was heard, both men�s faces hardened.

The blonde man heaved a heavy sigh. "Well, now we know."

The dark haired man rubbed at the birth bracelet, and replied, "yes, we do."

Another tear fell and he said, " I feel like I failed her Luc."

The blonde man shrugged, and said, "Tom, you did what you could. She was hellfire bent to marry the bloody bastard from what I've been told. She made her choices long ago, she left our world to live in his."

The little boy in his arms took a small finger and wiped off the tear from the older mans cheek. "Papa, sad?"

Wearily, he leaned his head against the child�s fair one and replied, "Yes my Angel, Papa is very sad."

Looking at both men, he says, "where is the little boy now? Is he not all alone, without any family? What will become of him?" he asks, his small face serious.

Both men had smelled and seen death enough times to know, the burned squib that was half in and half out of the fireplace was the bastard Justian Standish. They had tripped over his husk as they arrived by floo.

The little blonde narrowed his eyes, then closing them announced, "he's here."

And, calm grey-blue eyes met with startled aqua eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"AAAHHHHHHAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGAHHHH!"

Screeched the startled boy as he fell backwards in the tub with a loud splash, the water sloshing heavily over the sides, as his lover appeared right in front of him.

"Dammit to hell and back Ti! You bloody damn near gave me a feckin' heart attack! Mon Dieu!"

Ti smirked, but noticing the look deep in his lover�s sad eyes, in a concern laced voice he asked, "Did you have another flashback, Luv?"

The smaller boys face crumpled, "OH Ti! It was just awful! I, I remembered even more things this time. I remembered the way my parents died," He whispered. "Oh God! It, it was all my fault!" Tears mingling with the bubbles running down his cheeks, Re sat there, his face in his hands and sobbed.

Ti had hushed him, grabbing a fluffy black towel with a large 'B' in it's center had bent over and picked up his shivering lover, conjured up a plush chair, sat him in his lap, and tenderly dried him off, nuzzling the damp dark gold locks, and murmuring to him with little licks and nips to his pink ear lobes, just how much he meant to him.

When Re was dry, Ti lifted him up, and the damp towel fell. Stepping over it, he carried his love to the bed in the other room of the spacious double suite.

With a wave of his slim hand, the covers pulled back, and carefully he placed Re inside them, covering him gently, leaning over to brush his cheek with a tiny kiss.

The smaller boys eyes fluttered shut as he murmured sleepily, "S�wha, happened? Thought you were to be here by five?" grinning he added, �not that I mind, but, it's not even noon yet, Luv."

Ti tweaked his nose, and said," Blame Papa, he said something about getting an earlier start." Shaking his blonde head ruefully he said, " That ole man gonna be the death of me yet! He's so bloody fired up about this project he keeps babbling about! ARHG!" Driving me bloody mental he was!"

Re just smirked, " Ah, go on, you love him! And, he's yer Papa!" Snuggling deeper into his covers he turned over, giving Ti a view of his blanket covered butt, he snickered, "Hmm, that's where ya get it then!"

He squeaked loudly as Ti's hand came down heavy on that round covered butt.

"Well, serves ya right, brat." He snickered right back.

"I'm gonna go bathe, I'll be right back luv, we've got some time to catch a few, before the old coot arrives."

Re just slipped a hand out of his cocoon, and waved him on, then tucking it back under his cheek, he let out a little sigh. He was safe, Ti was here. Nothing could hurt him now, not even his dreams.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a sorry bunch of sixth year Gryffindors that sat in the Common room. They had just had a rousing row, and from the looks of things, it was gonna get worse, before it got better.

"I told you BOTH! I warned you, th..."

"ARGH! Give it a bloody rest Hermione! Godric�s beard! I swear to Merlin, if you say ONE more bloody time, that it was mine and Blaise's fault, because that stupid pinhead Longbottom can't even fuck..."

"LANGUAGE!"

"OH, PISS OFF!"

"YEAH!?"

"YEAH!?"

"MUD-BLOOD!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Please, you call THAT an insult? No wonder the sorting hat put you in this house!"

A mumble of "hey!" Goes around, but the shouted,

"BLOODY SHIRT-LIFTING, BOYFRIEND-STEALING, FAG!"

Shocks them all silent.

Ron breaks the silence with, "HERMIONE! DO you BLOODY kiss your Mother with that mouth!?"

To which she growls, "OH SOD OF WEASLEY, this is between me and your 'boyfriend' the SLYTHERIN QUEEN!"

"YOU, YOU, BITCH!" Blaise howls, and dives for Hermione, grabbing fist-fulls of her bushy, brown hair.

"UGH! What in the hell do you put in your hair?! It feels like straw!"

"OH, THAT'S IT!" She screams, grabbing a handful of the blonde�s own shiny soft hair.

"OH, FUCK, NOT MY HAIR! LET GO YOU CUNT!"

"Screw this!" And, as she wiggles out of his sissy hold, she draws her wand, fire in her flashing brown orbs.

Blaise screams and dives behind Ron.

Ron, knowing that 'look' wishes he had someone to hide behind.

"STOP THIS NOW!" Roars a voice.

Everyone turns their heads as a boy stands up, his own wand drawn, resting steady in his hand.

"LONGBOTTOM??!!
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Long Strides to a Short Walk