• 1-One That Stood Alone
• 2-Bleeding Heart
• 3-Questioning Conditions
• 4-Haunted Memories
• 5-Passionate Actions
• 6-Solemn Decision
• 7-Sinister Paradise

The Potions classroom rumbled with the sounds of chairs being moved and entsents scurrying over to their reluctant partners. It seemed that Snape had paired everyone with someone they typically did not work with. If one didn't know better, one would think the Potions Master was trying to make them fail their N.E.W.T.s by pairing them as such. Pansy and Blaise hesitated by Draco, glancing at Potter and back to the blond while whispering hurried words. Draco scowled at them and, with a sharp nod, told them to worry about their own partners (Pansy was working with Granger and Blaise with Finnigan).

Draco sat at his table, slowly taking out his parchment and quills to place them neatly in front of him. When the chair beside him remained empty, he turned his regal stare to meet Potter's defiant glare. Neither seemed willing to move to the other's table. Their stare deadlocked for a good few minutes as the classroom settled down as partners were found and parchment spread for notes. Harry rolled his eyes. He didn't wish to draw anymore attention from Snape than needed. Roughly grabbing his bag, he grudgingly walked over to the Slytherin's table. The smirk on those pale-pink lips only agitated Harry further and he tossed his bag onto the polished wooden tabletop.

"You will be brewing a highly potent potion for protection. This is not your average muttered charm, Mr. Weasley, so do please pay attention," Ron jerked his head up from where it had been buried in his arms. The redhead was most distressed that he was to work with Milicent Bulstrude. "Now, if any of you can answer this: what is most important in the highest of protection potions?" Hermione's hand shot into the air causing Snape to roll his black eyes. He waited several seconds before it seemed no one else was willing to submit themselves to his scrutiny. "Yes, Ms. Granger?"

"The most important factor in charms and potions of protection is intent. The caster must fully wish for the complete security of the person for whom the potion is being brewed. If there is even the slightest of doubts, then the potion will falter and lose half its strength, if not more." Snape's lip curled at the detailed response but soon his sneer was back in place.

"True, Ms. Granger, but intent is far more important for spells which are immediately cast. Such high-level potions assume the intent is present if such extremes are to be taken." Hermione's brow furrowed and the turning of the wheels in her head were almost visible. Another hand was raised.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Blood, Professor." The entire class seemed to simultaneously take in a breath while Harry's back straightened, his eyes darting to glance at the blond next to him for the first time since he had sat down. Draco's hair fell slightly in his face but not messily as Harry's did. Green eyes followed the hair to the lips as he remembered their soft texture. Remembered the crimson staining the pouting mouth, a rouge tongue darting out to lick at the coppery fluid. Harry's mouth suddenly felt very dry and he couldn't seem to conjure the anger towards the blond which he had so desperately clung to earlier. He had sworn to direct nothing but hostility towards the Slytherin but even that he couldn't maintain for long.

"Potter." Harry jerked his gaze from Draco's mouth when it moved to speak. Licking at his lips, he desperately swallowed past the strain in his throat.

"W-what?"

"You've been staring at me for the past five minutes while everyone else has already started to get the ingredients for the potion," he drawled. The familiar smirk upturned the lips and Draco leaned back, propping his head on his hand. "If I didn't know better I'd think you were positively smitten with me." Harry growled, blushing despite himself. He managed a small harrumph in response before checking the ingredients needed on the blackboard. He was met with the cold, calculating stare of the Potions professor. As if things couldn't get any worse. Now sodding SNAPE of all people had caught him admiring the blond Slytherin. Well, he didn't damned well care.

The snide remark from the Potions Master never came and Harry brushed it off as a fluke- not even thinking he was graced with so much as a smidget of good luck. No doubt the information was filed away in the professor's mind for later use when Harry least expected it. Rummaging in the storage cabinet, Harry chastised himself for giving in to the memories in the first place. He had decided to forget all about Draco and the confused jumble of emotions the blond evoked in Harry. He had been numb of all feeling in the past two weeks, not even allowed to ensure his existence. He felt himself slowly fading and even if thoughts of Malfoy could spur some sort of life into his being, he was willing to take the chance. Then it struck him. The thought was morbid and Harry knew it, but his heart beat slightly faster at the prospect. Draco had said blood was needed. Harry would be able to cut himself at least a little. At least enough to confirm that his veins still pulsed with some sort of strength.

Draco raised one brow as Harry returned to the table, worn traces of a ghostly smile on the boy's features. Yet this smile was not the vibrant one he had seen on Harry's face in years past or even the strained one the boy put on for his friends. Draco wasn't sure where this came from but was positive he didn't like it. They worked with unusual ease, Draco instructing Harry on what to cut and when to add it to the cauldron. It was only when he saw the flash of the blade in the shaking hand that Draco darted forward, his thigh brushing against Harry's as he physically pushed the boy away from the cauldron.

"What do you think you're doing, Potter?" he hissed through pristine pearl teeth. Glazed forest eyes met Draco's before the sparking emerald returned to their murky depths.

"What do you bloody think I'm doing, Malfoy? You said it yourself; the potion's crucial ingredient is blood."

"Not from you it isn't." With a twist of his arm, Draco tore the blade from Harry's hands before the boy could cut himself. "You've already proven you can't be trusted with a knife, Potter. We need a few drops not a bloody waterfall- literally." Draco knew he was overreacting but he absolutely refused to see Harry's blood spilled again, and by his own hand no less. His stomach twisted in on itself causing his breath to be shallow and heavy. When he had seen the glint of the blade he had panicked, the image of a pale and convulsing Harry playing once more for his mind's eye.

"Worried about me, Malfoy?" The voice was low, laced with a certain huskiness which caused a shiver to crawl up Draco's spine and he narrowed his eyes, lifting his head in defiance.

"Leave that for your Gryffindor prats, Potter," the surname was spat with more venom than Draco intended, but Harry had touched a bit too close to home for his liking. Slicing forcefully into the meat of his thumb, he allowed for precisely four drops to fall into the cauldron before pulling back his hand from the now bubbling fluid. There was a light brush against his thigh, his eyelids fluttering closed at the intimate contact. It was one thing for him to be the aggressor but to receive such a touch in return... Mercury eyes flashed open when he felt the smooth heat of a tongue wrapping itself about his finger. Hissing in a low breath, his gaze met devilishly defiant emerald. Biting at his lip, Draco took a furtive glance about the room to make sure no one was watching them. Surely enough, each table was too concerned with the importance of their given task to heed anyone else. Snape was currently helping with Milicent and Weasley's smoking cauldron.

Draco's heavy mind was too painfully aroused to realize the full weight of what Potter had just done. Silken lips slid from his slick digit before brushing against his ear as Harry leaned over the table to reach for Draco's notes, a casual move to anyone who may glance over.

"Now you're mine, Draco." His throat worked at swallowing, stunned by Harry's words so close to his skin. Refusing to acknowledge the heavy strain in his chest at the intimacies, Draco watched as Harry returned to stirring the cauldron as though nothing had happened at all. Gathering his wits about him, Draco red ted to be the one left breathless.

One manicured hand slid to his side to rest on the raven haired boy's thigh, slowly kneeding at the taut muscle. He smirked as Harry blinked several times in succession before continuing to stir. His hand slid higher before cupping the ever-hardening length. There was a hitched breath covered by a cough, Harry's hand dropping the metal stirring rod. Before it could fall entirely into the cauldron, Draco deftly caught it with his free hand while the other discreetly released Harry and returned to his own thigh.

Leaning forward as though peering into the cauldron, it was Draco's lips which brushed against Harry's ear. "My room. After Potions. In five minutes."

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

"Harry, mate, fancy a game of chess before dinner?"

"No, Ron, I-I have to finish up some things. In the library. Research." Harry finally met the puzzled blue gaze and he wracked his hazy brain for what could possibly end any further questioning. The remainder of Potions had been a game of caresses and whispered breaths against sensitive skin. Harry was ready to explode- or implode if he was left to talk with Ron any longer. "It has to do with Professor Luminos." The blue eyes widened before averting his direct gaze. Quickly gathering his things, Harry haphazardly tossed them into his bag, throwing it over one shoulder.

"I'll see you," Not sure how long his meeting with Malfoy would last, Harry hurriedly continued, "...later." Ducking his head in a nod of goodbye, Harry darted his way out of the room. Three pairs of eyes followed his rushed exit. Snape's proud sneer was on his face as he desperately disregarded all thoughts of exactly what his godson and Potter would be doing, merely glad that the two were closer for Draco's sake. Pansy pursed her lips together before walking over to Blaise, leading him away by the arm.

"I think Harry's been around you a bit too much, Hermione. He almost seemed excited about going to the library." Hermione nodded once noncommitally. The wheels in her head were turning, and she wasn't sure she understood where they were leading her.

Harry's cheeks were flushed when he knocked on the door seven minutes later. It swung back to reveal one smirking Draco Malfoy leaning against the frame. "You're late, Potter."

"Peeves." Pulled by the front of his robes, the door swung shut behind him with a slam. Their lips met in a passionate rush of teeth and tongue, Harry backing into the room as Draco pushed him with one hand while the other freed him from his cloak. The back of his knees hit the edge of the sofa and Harry fell into the lush cushions, pulling the Slytherin on top of him. It didn't make sense, none of this did, but he could feel the pounding in his chest and the heat that threatened to burn him from the inside. This rush was just as assuring as cutting if not better. Harry didn't know why he was kissing Draco Malfoy, their tongues dancing and dueling in one another's mouths. And he didn't care. All he knew was that he felt alive.

Draco trailed his lips down the side of Harry's face, nibbling and kissing down the exposed neck. Pulling free the gaudy Gryffindor tie, he unbuttoned the shirt to expose one shoulder. Harry's fingers dug deeper into Draco's hips when his tongue swirled along the spot right where the neck flowed into shoulder, the twisting ends of raven hair resting against the base. One hand slid over Draco's back to cup his bum, the other following shortly after. Thoroughly licking the tender spot on Harry's neck, he pulled back and lightly blew across the wet flesh.

Harry's entire body tingled in a most uncomfortably wonderful way and he bucked his hips while pulling the blond tightly against him. The contact elicited a loud moan from his lips, Draco's teeth biting into his skin as their groins came into contact. Draco released the reddened skin for the fullness of Harry's lips. Grinding into the Gryffindor, mercury met emerald as both boys felt their stomachs tightening with that familiar strain.

"Mine," Draco's voice mingled with Harry's heavy gasps as he pulled on the boy's lower lip with his teeth. Releasing the soft flesh, he tangled his hands in the silken raven strands. "You're mine, Harry." Pulling the boy's arm from its place on his back, he pushed up the sleeve to reveal the array of scars which marred the skin there. Draco proceeded to kiss each one, looking at Harry's puzzled face clouded with lust the entire time. "And," A kiss. "Don't you ever," A lick. "Ever," A kiss. "Do this again." He took in two of Harry's long fingers, swirling his tongue about them much in the same way had been done to him in Potions.

Harry's breath came in heavy gasps, his eyes cloudy with real emotion as he watched Draco mimic his own actions. Growling in response, he pushed Draco off him and onto the floor, rolling after the boy. Staddling those elegant hips, Harry was glad to see the surprise flash in those silver-blue eyes. Leaning down to kiss the flushed lips, his hands worked at the blond's shirt and tie. Only satisfied when the shirt was divulged of the boy's torso entirely, Harry moved his mouth to suck at the hardened nipple. His lips spread into a grin when the gasp came from Draco this time, a pale hand twisting into his hair.

"Fuck. Fuck, Harry..."

"Not quite yet, Draco." His eyes glittered like jewels as his hair fell about his face when he leaned over the other boy. The hand at the nape of his neck pulled him down for another ravaging kiss, Draco's hips grinding upwards into Harry's. Their kisses became deeper and far more desperate as the tension tightened in their bellies.

"I'll be yours. I'll be.." Harry was cut off by another bruising kiss. Pulling away from the swollen Slytherin's lips, he looked down at the flushed Draco Malfoy beneath him. He should have been disturbed. He should have ran screaming from the room. But he needed this. Gods, did he need this. He didn't need to be the Boy Who Lived here. He just had to be Harry... and he was allowed to live. Sliding lower, he took the band of Draco's trousers in his teeth, the button pattering against the stone floor a few inches away.

"Harry... you don't have to..." Placing two fingers against the panting mouth, Draco's heat beneath him was saying something completely and utterly different. Smiling coyly, he felt almost the same daring which pulsed through his veins when he played Quidditch, ready and willing to do anything to accomplish his goal. Sliding his hand down to the zipper, he slowly undid it while keeping eye contact with Draco. Something swirled in those mercury depths but Harry didn't dare chase it down. They were two boys releasing emotions and experiencing one another. It wasn't anything more than that.

"I'll be yours, but you'll belong to me in turn." Draco hissed as the cold air only hardened his cock further upon exposure from the satin boxers. He almost lost all semblance of control and nearly cried for release. Harry's gaze was feral and his tongue darted across his lips. "Always." It was Draco's turn for lights to explode before his very eyes as his world fell around him.

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

Harry fell backwards, his head knocking against the floor and bouncing forwards only to fall back against the hard stone. Blinking rapidly, he audibly cursed and tried in vain to stop the room from spinning about his head. The figure stood over him, wand drawn towards him with a mad glint in those midnight blue eyes.

"Legilimens." Harry's brain was still rocking in his skull prohibiting him from properly blocking the attack on his mind. Clenching his eyes tightly closed against the intrusion, memories glided by his closed lids as they were seen by his attacker.

Harry lay on his thin mattress at the Dursley's, eyes staring at the ceiling above him as the birds chirped outside. There were screams from below but the prone boy did not heed their calls. Thundering footfalls on the stairs crashed through the walls but still he did not move. Tired green eyes blinked as the door was torn open to reveal a purple-faced, livid Vernon. There were shouts- accusations of things Harry couldn't possibly have done since he hadn't left his room in days unless it was to cook or clean. The familiar unbuckling of the belt could be seen from over the massive roll of stomach fat which draped over the older man's waistband. Fingers dug into his arm and Harry was forcefully thrown from the bed, but he did nothing more than blink at the violent motion. He merely winced as his head crashed against the corner of a table, a thin line of blood trailing its way down his face. Then the punishment began as the belt cracked into his back...

It was a younger Harry- summer after fifthr atr at the Dursley's once more. He sat on the same familiar mattress, legs pulled tightly against him with his back pressed against the headboard. His bottom lip quivered slightly and gaze unfocused. Hedwig flew through his window, insistently pecking at him as she outstreched one leg with a letter. Harry uncurled from his ball, slowly untying the note from his beloved owl. She turned her head at an angle, looking up at her owner with curious eyes before lightly pecking Harry on the cheek. His expression did not change, lips remaining in a firm line drawn across his sullen face. The letter was from Dumbledore. Feebly opening it, he scanned the words before dropping it off the side of his bed. It was his fault. His. Yet he could feel nothing... Dumbledore was telling him of ways in which to free himself of the guilt but Harry did not want to listen. The guilt was the only thing he could feel right now. The guilt was what kept him alive, if barely. He caught the shimmer of something from beneath the official parchment, green eyes narrowing in confusion. And it dawned on him. He could make sure... make sure that he could feel more than guilt even if it was pain. The blade cut into flesh and Harry hissed his godfather's name through clenched teeth...

His throat was locked tight with unrestrained emotion- the likes of which he hadn't felt since Sirius had fallen through the veil. The air rushed about him and he pulled the broom upwards as he made a hurried landing on the worn lawn which surely had seen better days. His heart hammered in his chest and his hand wrapped itself about his wand. Dashing into 12 Grimmauld Place, Harry screamed for Lupin. He cried out the man's name, desperately raking his eyes about the dreary home. Sirius' mother began her yelling as he passed her in the hall. There was a light at the end- behind a closed door he could make out whimpers and cries. Bursting into the room, emerald eyes widened in fear as they took in the convulsing sight of Remus Lupin before them. There was a guttural scream of raw anger and Harry's world pinpointed down to one person and one person alone- Bellatrix Lestrange...

Harry's eyes flashed wide open, anger pulsating beneath their emerald depths. They shone with absolute fury at the uncalled for invasion of his private thoughts, hidden memories. Pushing back with all the force of one very pissed off Harry Potter, his own mind forced its way into that of Luminos Black. The professor fell backwards at the sudden attack on his mental being, hitting the far wall as his eyes clenched shut.

Luminos was a small child, wavy black hair framing his midnight eyes in a most adorable fashion. Or at least so all the women who doted on his every whim cooed into his ear. His father did, after all, fancy several women on several occasions- and some even simultaneously. He said it was in the blood; few Blacks knew how to use it fully to their advantage. The young boy- no more than ten- ambled over to a family portrait which stood on a most elaborate fireplace. The small boy asked his father about the other boy in the picture, an older and very striking resemblance to himself. Sirius Black. Your cousin. A fine young man, just as he should strive to be. His hair was tousled and he was pulled into an overbearing hug which smelled of summer and father...

It was dark. Heavy breathing disrupted still air and a strangled moan echoed in the small closet.