Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

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
- 69-CH69
- 6
- 7
- 8
First, many thanks sent to those who took the time to comment. I guess with so much of the story clear in my head, it surprised me to have people excited for what was to come next. It really gave me a jolt of inspiration. *sends much huggles*
‘Kay, as for questions I’m willing to answer and or explain. 1) Although Draco is part veela, anything concerning mates, irrational emotions or really anything creed on Veelas probably won’t apply. I like to have my own rules for things. ^^ 2) This is really my first story ever. I did do some reading of books on writing but I don’t have any traditional training… which I’m quick to blame for any and all problems I have concerning writing. XD I did read a lot as a kid, which fuels my love of trying to write now. You can create an entire world with a couple of paragraphs; how could anyone resist? 3) No matter how many times you ask, you can’t pry plot secrets away from me! You gotta read to find out. I still love you for trying though; it makes me giggle uncontrollably. ^___^

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

CH7

Draco arose with a jump, his bed coverings torn and thrown aside. Something was coming. A malevolent force was approaching slowly down the corridor. Not quite awake he stumbled from his bed and promptly fell on his face in a tangle of sheets. He growled at the offending garment. With a kick and a loud rip he was free to stand, only to fall again. “Bloody HELL!”
The unwelcome group found the young Malfoy heir cursing at his blanket, overly long legs, and most everything in general at the top of his lungs. After an exchange of questioning glances, Avery was elected to approach the ranting boy. Voldemort was quickly approaching and they needed Malfoy quiet and subservient.
Lucius watched from the doorway, his fair face grim as the flustered man was pushed towards his son. They had no idea what they were getting themselves into.
A horrific scream and a muddle of voices shouting out spells later, Voldemort was privy to find his inner circle strewn across the room, while Draco raged, hands covered in blood and eyes a matching color. “Lucius, curb your son.” He commanded the blonde man who had yet to move from his spot in the doorway.
Lucius sent a dark look at the other occupants of the room who had learned the hard way to give him a wide birth, and calmly approached Draco. It took a moment for him to be recognized, but once Lucius’ scent and magical aura enveloped the boy, he immediately stopped raging and instead clung to him, fear and confusion bright in the now silver eyes.
“Hush now.” Lucius soothed, smoothing a comforting hand on his child’s head.
“Father... it hurts.” Draco whispered into his leg, using the thick robes to block the other’s from staring intently at him.
“I know, Draconis. I’ve brought something for the pain.” He fished the pot of desense salve he had just finished from his robes and applied a generous helping down along Draco’s spine. A tremor shook the boy and he fell boneless to the floor, a dazed smile alight on his face.
Normally, the salve would have been rubbed into the muscle tissue to avoid stiffness that was sure to come from the ordeal, but Lucius was quite aware of the audience he had, and was wary of the way the Death Eaters were staring intensely at his son. With a wave he Accio’d one of Draco’s blankets and wrapped the boy up in it, covering his undressed state. Draco just cuddled down into it, his mind in a drugged daze from the salve and childlike from the shock and pain of his exritus. It would be days before he would be back to normal, beyond normal if his blood had anything to say about it.
“I realize the boy is in no condition for this, but it can not wait any longer, Lucius.” Voldemort stepped forward and observed the boy critically. “Someone helped the brat escape and none of the wards were breached, nor was anyone detected that didn’t belong at the estate. As meddlesome as the Order is, I don’t believe any have the skill to circumvent my defenses so easily. Everyone else has been accounted for except your heir.”
“I understand my Lord.” Lucius replied evenly. “I would like to say on my son’s behalf that he has never held any good will towards Potter, and Draco’s rebellious streak has never interfered with his own personal safety. If Draco has done anything so foolish, it would have to be a result of his exritus, not his own conscious choice.”
“Of course, Lucius.” Draco turned to eye the source of the cruel voice curiously. “I must check non the less. Your family has always been a little… questionable, with their loyalties.”
Lucius held his tongue, his eyes never leaving Draco’s calm form.
Draco blinked at the first press of something in his mind. It was a poisonous presence, malicious and frozen, and somewhat familiar. He looked again at the strange creature before him; it was not quite human, not quite alive. “What are you doing?” He asked, unafraid but not exactly welcoming the unwanted presence. The red-eyed being ignored him, obviously concentrating too much to speak. Annoyed by the rudeness of someone entering his mind without permission or explanation, no matter how highly his father seemed to regard him, Draco locked his mind down. He sent a punishing wave of pain when the presence persisted, trying to break through his defenses.
Voldemort frowned down at the pale boy. His delicate composition obviously veiled the true power within him. As he had suspected, he would be a great asset to him once he was controlled properly. But, if his will was anything like his parents, he may have to be destroyed instead; he had no use for power that he could not control. “Your son is free of incident, Lucius. It appears he had blacked out from his exritus long before Potter had been captured.” He turned to Bellatrix and nodded her towards the door.
“I have a gift for you Draconis. Something to honor your exritus and represent my favor of you.”
“Oh?” Draco eyed him tiredly. “I do love presents.” He slowly pulled himself to his feet with Lucius help. If the creature wanted to make up for his transgressions with a gift, Draco was not one to complain. He turned to look up at his father, who was emitting an unsettling aura of magic, as he stared blankly at the door. Bellatrix had entered, pushing two someone’s harshly to the floor in front of Draco. Draco prodded the nearest with his foot, surprised when it gave a soft moan of pain. “Er...” He turned back to the red eyed being in confusion.
Voldemort smiled in a severely poor attempt at easing the boy’s confusion. “One of my followers found and captured the two last night. They are the children of our enemies and their presence here will bring the Order much suffering. You may do with them as you wish, although I ask that if you intend to kill them to only kill one. I would like their parents to be constantly reminded that their sons are in your care.”
“So... they are mine?” Draco asked, slowly understanding the situation.
“Yes, Draconis. Use them as slaves if you like, or toys. It matters not.”
With a shrug, Draco was crouching in front of the two, peering closely at them. He sniffed at the red copper colored hair. It was a pretty color so he petted at it. “What is that?” He pointed at the strange metal band circling each of their necks.
“Merely a ward to keep them from injuring you or themselves.”
“And the funny markings?”
“Bruises and lacerations, Draconis.”
“Oh.” Draco stared a while more, blinking when he caught a blue eye staring back. “They don’t match.” He reached over and carefully sliced a pale shoulder to match its brother’s wound. He decided he liked the soft hiss of pain it made as well.
“Do you approve of your gift?” Voldemort asked gently, finding the childlike behavior endearing. The boy would make a good addition, sadistic and innocent all at the same time. He was a little too beautiful for his own safety, but Voldemort was sure no one would be foolish enough to try to take something that was his. He had killed many for far less.
“Yes… they are quite wonderful.” Draco smiled up into the red eyes. “I really get to keep them?”
“Yes, they are yours alone.”
Draco’s smile widened.
“Since you approve, I will have them cleaned up for you. We can’t have them messing up your room.” Voldemort signaled for McNair to take the two. Something flared in Draco at the man’s approach and he bristled, eyes turning a frightening red. “No, they’re mine!” He snarled, crouching over the two.
Voldemort gave an amused chuckle. “Indeed. Very well, I’m sure the house elves can care for them. Once you are fully recovered and coherent, we will need to have a long chat, Draconis. Until then, enjoy your rest and your gift.” With that he turned and signaled for the group to file out behind him. “Lucius, you can stay and care for him now, if you wish.”
Lucius nodded, ignoring the slight of a guest telling him how to spend his time in his own house. He had a lot of practice ignoring such things and the best training in Occlumency.
“Are you alright?” He knelt beside his son, waiting for him to calm down.
“…I don’t like those people.” Draco whispered softly, still staring at the now closed door. “They reek of corruption.” He met his father’s eyes. “We… are not like them, are we.”
“No, we are not.” Lucius whispered. “But they mustn’t know that. Do you understand? You should not speak with them until you have recovered your senses.” He stressed, a tinge of fear in his voice.
“I know. Mother sent me the note.” He plucked lightly at the bloodied hair of the nearest twin who had yet to move. “Can you fix them?”
“I will call Twee. My magic should not be found on them.” Lucius stood and summoned the elf. Unlike most house elves, Twee lacked the annoying overly subservient attitude and frightened nervousness that set Lucius on edge. The elf had quickly become his favorite and now held the role of directing the other house elves in their duties. A soft crack announced Twee’s presence to the room. “Draconis will need a proper bath, have the others prepare it. More pressing is the condition of these two here.” He waved a hand at the boys crumpled on the floor. “Before you care for them I need to know what type of spells have been placed on the collars they wear.” Twee bowed low to examine the collars while, with a soft pop, another house elf appeared and helped led Draco to the adjoining bath.
“There is an inhibitor spell, Master, and something linked to their magic to stop them from removing the collars.” Twee squeaked at last.
“Nothing that could track them, or let someone know if they are removed?” Lucius persisted.
“Nothing Master. The magic is only threaded into the two young ones. No one observes.”
“Very well. See to their wounds and make sure they rest. They will stay in Draco’s set of rooms for now.”
“Should I prepare proper attire for them, Master?”
Lucius eyed the torn rags hanging from the twin Weasleys thoughtfully. It was antiquated, but such a gift of two youths was once quite acceptable when courting. The safety collars had been the perfect touch, and the Dark Lord hadn’t even tried to leave a trace of his presence on them. Voldemort had definitely studied to make sure he got the old customs down to prevent any break in contract. “No. I think it would be best if they remained un-attired. It will keep them from leaving the rooms and getting into mischief. Merlin save them if they run into that lot unsupervised.” He mussed aloud. “Make sure they are cleaned properly Twee. I don’t want them infecting Draco with whatever they’ve been rolling in. Also, Draco will need to have this massaged into his skin. I would prefer to do it myself but I fear my Lord grows impatient.” He motioned to the pot of salve and quickly left the room.
“Of course Master.” Twee bowed once again at his master’s retreating back and turned his attention to the injured twins. Many spells later the boys were healed physically, although their emotional status was unclear. Sniffing with disdain at the soiled rags, Twee quickly incinerated the scraps and allowed the pair to be floated away to the bath by Ricket. After much scrubbing and drying, all three youths were safely tucked into bed, and sleeping charms cast to assure a restful sleep.
Satisfied, Twee dismissed all the house elves but Brickel back to their normal duties. Brickel was ordered to guard the room from intrusion and to keep an eye on the children’s status. No one was to be allowed in or out until the young heir fully awakened.

*******

Draco screamed, twisting sharply as frightening snaps and pops sounded throughout his body. The pain had come again, roaring through his veins and paralyzing his mind until he was nothing more than a shattering pile of limbs and steal taunt muscles embedded into the soft bed.
“Shit, can’t we shut the git up somehow!” George yelled over the noise. His head was killing him and Malfoy’s inhuman cries weren’t helping. “Let’s suffocate him with that pillow; I’m sure he’d be glad to be put out of his misery!”
Fred just smiled benignly and continued to watch the blonde writher in pain. He had always wanted to see an exritus based transformation. The circumstances weren’t the most optimal, but this was an opportunity that would likely never come again. If his research was correct, Malfoy was in the final stage. The changes that had been growing in the young boy were about to break out and complete what was at the moment still an awkward and unfinished being. Given the Black bloodline, it was destined to be a magnificent sight.
“That’s it, I’m hiding in the bathroom until he shuts up.” George growled after Draco gave a rather loud ear-piercing scream. Fred grabbed him and pulled him down into the seat beside him before he could leave. He handed his scowling twin one of the ample pillows scattered all over the room to block his ears with, and returned to the show. Malfoys shoulder blades had just given an interesting wrench and he wasn’t going to miss the formation of the wings.
“This is so stupid.” George grumbled, covering his head with the pillow and tugging on the infuriating collar around his neck. “Shouldn’t we be looking to escape instead of watching this horror—” His eyes widened as Draco’s back gave a magnificent crack and two long gashes, from his shoulders all the way down to his tailbone, split down the pale flesh. “Whoa… blood spray.”
“Watch his head.” Fred pointed out. Fresh blood was pooling into the blonde’s hair from two wounds that had just appeared. Pale bone was pushing through, elongating and twisting, catching the wispy strands of hair that were growing right before their eyes. “Wicked.” They whispered in unison.
Draco snarled and buried his face into the covers, blood smearing the white sheets and tangling his hair as he unconsciously tried to rub away the new horns crowning his head. His back gave another pained groan, the flesh stretching impossibly as something that could not be contained between flesh and bone struggled to be free. It’s almost over, it’s almost over, it’s almost over; he repeated unintelligibly into the pillow around too long teeth. He screamed as his skin started to tightened and slit open at his elbows, and knees, and anywhere his muscled tensed, which was basically everywhere. His hand suddenly sliced through the thick mattress as if it were butter, sinking him up to his shoulders and trapping his arm. He struggled mindlessly to be free, wrenching his arm until it snapped and he roared again. Wings exploded out of his skin with a sickeningly wet sucking sound and shot up and out, blood splattering onto the walls and ceiling.
He collapsed on the broken bed, small sobs escaping him. Almost… almost over. Another sickening sound, fire tearing through the gashes and another set of wings tore through, graciously smaller but no less painful. He couldn’t scream anymore, he made the motion but no sound came out. Pain stabbed into his lower back. Burning. Just a bit longer… he wasn’t going to lose! Another gash, another unvoiced scream. Almost… gods, his skin was melting, it was burning… too bright… almost…

*******

An ominous silence had fallen in the large room while the two boys gaped in awe at Draco. He hadn’t moved in the last five minutes. “Is he… is he dead?” George finally whispered.
“I don’t think so.” Fred whispered back. “Er… maybe we should check?”
George frowned, eyeing the small war scene. “Yeah, alright.” Together they picked their way past the shattered furniture and pools of blood and peered down at the prone figure. “Look, he’s already healing.” George whispered while using the sheets to wipe the squishy blood from his toes.
“Yeah… I guess he’ll be fine.” He followed the curve of the blood soaked wings down to the pale back where the long gashes had almost disappeared. “He looks kinda… pretty. Like, glowy and stuff.” Fred looked up to find his brother staring at him funnily. “If we had more of the Black bloodline, we may have ended up with these wicked dragon wings. The smaller winged ones must be from the Malfoy blood.” Fred turned back and pointed to the elegant tail coiling around his pale legs. “Always wanted one of those.”
“No you don’t.” George suddenly snapped. “Not at the price he’ll have to pay. Not with Voldemort controlling every aspect of his life.”
Fred nodded soberly. “We should probably get him out of there; his arm’s all twisted. I think he broke it.” They decided to leave him on the couch, stomach down so his wings wouldn’t be crushed. There really was no way to keep the white furniture free from bloodstains, and given that they were virtual prisoners, they made a point of smearing it into the rug.
“I need a shower.” George muttered, shaking his hands roughly, blood spraying all over. “And I really need to get away from this bugger’s disturbing aura.”
“Thank the gods, I thought it was just me.” Fred sighed, scrambling away from Malfoy’s unconscious form. “It’s gotta be the Veela. It must be materializing differently because of the Black line. He’ll have some problems with that if he can’t control it over the next few months… ‘Course it’s all just speculation at this point, especially if he’s the Soul Vigil candidate. Everything changes if that’s for real.” He wiped his hair from his forehead, unknowingly smearing blood there.
“Mum’s certain he is. I think his mother had a transformation during her exritus too.” He eyed Fred warily. “That Domin Fae said Snakeface was the Heir.”
“Relax, he’s not.” Fred whispered. “Slytherin has no link to the Heir, no matter how much he wished otherwise.” He burrowed his head into his hands, more tired than he’d been in a long while. “So that’s what’s going on then? Why they’ve got the kid locked up in here and Voldemort giving him slaves… I’d almost feel honored to be worthy enough to be part of the dowry between the Heir and the Soul Vigil, you know… if it wasn’t us.”
“Hmm, our pureblood status has to be good for something.” George smirked ruefully. “You do realize what this means though.”
“Yeah.” He thought wistfully of his research books that were still unpacked at the new house. He was positive Slytherin held no ties with the Heir bloodline but the Heir line itself had disappeared centuries ago. If Voldemort’s muggle relatives weren’t fully muggle, than there was a remote possibility he was the Heir. He had a magical genealogy book that would be perfect… Damn, why hadn’t he studied this more! He had spent the last few days looking for that creature that had helped him out with Harry when he could have been searching for info on the Domin like he should have been.
“And now you’re blaming yourself.”
Fred looked up in surprise. “I’m not— yeah, I guess I am. What do you think about the one in the cottage… it wasn’t Domin. It felt different. It talked differently too, like, without words— telepathically.”
“I don’t know… This could be bigger than we think.” He gestured at Malfoy. “He’s the real thing, a full transformation. He could really be the one. Maybe…” He looked away and started wiping his hands on the corner of the couch.
Fred nodded thoughtfully. “Well, looks like we’ll have ringside seats to whatever atrocity occurs.”
George froze and slowly turned to his twin. Scowling, he dragged Fred across the outrageously large room, into the elaborate bathroom, and locked the door behind them. “What, so you’re just giving up? I don’t know about you, but I’m not going to be a bloody slave for anyone.” He hissed.
“Not giving up,” Fred said, looking away. “I’m just saying, it’s not like we have much of a chance of getting out of here right now. We should listen and watch, so once we do get a chance, we’ll be able to help the fight. You know, make Moody proud and all that shit.”
George narrowed his eyes. “You want to help the little git!”
“Of course I want to help him!” Fred threw up his hands in exasperation. “Think of who he is. We can’t let Voldemort have that sort of power; it would be bloody Armageddon!” He started pacing the tiled floor. “There’s something about him… I can’t explain it… it’s, you know, the power…” He turned imploringly. “I want to help him. And it’s not like we won’t get useful information, but right now he’s going to need help, even if he doesn’t want it and—”
“Enough, I get it already.” George gripped Fred’s shoulders to stop his incessant movement. “I feel the power thing, too. I’ll help him if you want, but I don’t trust him, and you shouldn’t either. For all we know, this is all coming from these damn collars… just keep your guard up. This isn’t some fun puzzle to play at…” He broke into a grin at Fred’s small smile. “Right, it’s the biggest bloody puzzle we’ve ever had the chance to play at; but you get what I’m saying.”
“I get it. We’ll just play it safer than usual.” Fred reassured.
“Right.” George sighed. “But first, showers. This blood is horrible.” He said, wrinkling his nose in disgust. He eyed the bathroom critically. The prat was spoiled rotten, no other way to put it. “We can use the towels for clothes when we make a break for it… if it really bothers you.”
Fred rolled his eyes. “We were born shameless and shameless we shall stay. An eyeful of my ass will be the least of their worries once I get this collar off and my wand back… Oi, he’s got that expensive shampoo. This is like 20 Galleons a bottle.”
“Ugh, that disturbs me on so many levels.” George shuddered at the pink bottle. “Hand it over, we should use it all up on him.”
Fred laughed and tossed it over. Before long they had rinsed the blood off and managed to ransack the bathroom to hurricane aftermath proportions with water and wet towels all over the floor, cabinets opened and the contents strewn about, and blood red rings left in the tub from the bath water. Satisfied with their work, Fred scooped up some towels and a bowl of clean water and carried it out to the boy still asleep on the couch. It was tricky, but Fred managed to clean most of the blood off of the sleek fleshy wings and some from the smaller feathered ones towering from Malfoy’s back.
He peered closely at the joints where the silver-grey wings met flesh. If the transformation had been truly complete, then Malfoy would be able to retract them once he regained his senses. The true symbol of a complete transformation was the body’s ability to naturally switch from human to the new form instead of being stuck in-between as most other wizards have had occur. During their own exritus, Fred and George had each gained a noble set of ears that they charmed secret, but they weren’t even comparable to the majesty of a full transformation. It was the changes in their magic that was far more remarkable and reflected their true pureblood heritage more than the physical extremities in Malfoy’s case that really bordered on otherworldly Fae. Everyone went through magical variations but the physical ones were reserved for those who were more magic than mortal. Just the intricate detail like the soft dusting of feathers gracing down Malfoy’s spine to meet the small scales that slowly increased as they reached the sparkling grey tail, and the sprinkle of almost transparent scales on the back of his knuckles as they reached up to the steel like claws; it couldn’t be anything else but complete. And as such, Malfoy was no longer just human but magic given flesh.
Leaning down, Fred carefully cleaned the slender tail down to the tip. He dabbed gently at the horns but didn’t move to clean the flesh or silvery mess of hair. The wounds would still be tender and he wasn’t looking to provoke any instinctual aggression from the sleeping boy.
“He looks like some sort of demon prince.” George scoffed, sitting down in a cushy sofa that had survived blood free from the incident. Unlike Fred, the aura affected him more, and he wasn’t going to tempt something as dodgy as touching the little git.
“I think that’s what the muggles would call him.” Fred answered absentmindedly. “Around 100,000 BC of their calendar, they caught a glimpse of the Soul Vigil of the time, Luciferous. They had the gist of the story in their history but then they fucked it up when the cults started gaining power and taking over the muggle world. Stupid lot really… reminds me of Fudge, actually.” Fred frowned thoughtfully.
“Fascinating, Mr. History.” George said, not unkindly. “Look at that, he even sparkles. His body must have some sort of iridescent layer or something. I wonder if we could bottle it for that makeup line we have… are you going to be all right over there with him? It just kicked up a bit for a moment.”
“I’m fine. Just a little lightheaded, but I’m nearly done anyways. Honestly, he’s going to have to control this Veela thing quickly. Look how strong it is and his powers have just awoken. If he’s not careful, he’ll have some bad lot breaking down the door.”
“I’m not promising I’ll play guard dog.” George grunted noncommittally.
“And will I have to be guarding him from you, as well?”
George cracked an eye open to find Fred staring down at him. “Well I’m hoping you’ll kill me first… or toss me off. The last thing I want is to shag that damn berk. Besides, Moldiewarts said these collars will keep us from hurting him and I’m assuming rape falls into that category.”
Fred frowned. “Do you suppose these charming collars will consider our sanity in all of this? I feel the pull, collar or not.”
“Damn, you’re freaking me out now.” George sighed.
Waiting for George to shift, Fred curled up on the couch with him and buried his head into his warm chest. “Sorry, just spreading the wonderful drear of doom.”
“Forget about it. We have plenty of time to bemoan our horrible fate later. Let’s go back to thinking about the Heir thing. I’ll try to sort through what I learned last night.” In agreement, they settled into the cushy couch and started to sift through the pieces of the new puzzle hoping to discern some sort of image from it all.
- 6
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Awakening To the Dream