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Pleasant Dreams	By : newyorican Category: Harry Potter Crossovers > Slash - Male/Male Views: 17572 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling and Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 6
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Chapter 6 – The First Dream

“Trust in dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.”

/Jacob/Harry

Harry was not anticipating the arrival of Draco Malfoy. From his previous encounters with the snobbish, stuck-up Slytherin, there was much to be desired concerning the blond’s personality and it made his inevitable future presence in Number 12 Grimmauld Place feel like Harry was walking off to the gallows.

And, yeah, he was acting a bit melodramatic, but this was Malfoy!

Still, he knew how important family was to Sirius, even if admitting that Malfoy was family made one prefer to swallow Bleach and convulse to oblivion, and he couldn’t get Narcissa’s voice out of his head, pleading for her cousin to take her son, to protect her child. She was too proud to flat out beg and show her desperation, but Harry had already seen it in her eyes. Those grey orbs spoke louder than her words had.

There was a ding at the fireplace and Harry flinched. The stupid git was early.

The black-haired boy sighed before walking towards the living room. Malfoy stood there stiffly, his eyes containing disbelief, anger, and…fear? It wouldn’t shock Harry; Malfoy was to spend an unforeseeable amount of time with his enemy and two other men who weren’t quite on his side. Being outnumbered wouldn’t necessarily be anyone’s cup of tea unless of course they were Mad Eye Moody and chuckled at the chance to show their constant vigilance, and Harry really didn’t know how his mind wandered so. Narcissa stood regally behind him, her expression unreadable.

“Thank you, Sirius,” she said quietly.

Sirius nodded his head awkwardly. “Is this for the entire summer?”

Uncertainty flashed in Narcissa’s eyes briefly. “I will Floo you when our…situation…gets better.”

Sirius grimaced. In other words, she had no clue. Malfoy seemed a little embarrassed by his mother’s words. “Right, well, he is a Black,” Sirius said quietly.

“If things don’t change before the school year, Draco has his money pouch to buy his supplies. We certainly don’t expect you to buy him anything when we have money. It’s connected to a separate vault Lucius set up. He may use it as often as he likes with the stipulation that he doesn’t exceed fifteen hundred Galleons for the length of time he’s here. Draco, of course, is already well aware of this, but I feel you should be made aware,” Narcissa said as if it pained her.

Harry was surprised to see Malfoy flinch at the mention of his father’s name. Trouble in paradise?

Sirius nodded his head. When Narcissa glanced at Harry and Draco before giving him a pointed look, he said, “Harry, could you show Mal—um, Draco—his room? Kreacher is at Hogwarts.”

Harry bit his lip before muttering, “Alright. C’mon, Malfoy.”

Malfoy looked briefly frightened. His mother bent slightly to whisper in his ear, most likely her goodbyes before the adults disappeared into the kitchen, and he jutted his chin out. “Have the House Elf bring my things up later,” he said arrogantly.

Harry snorted. “The House Elf won’t be back until the end of the week,” he replied. He didn’t actually know if it was true, but Malfoy’s tone severely annoyed him, and he tried to channel that annoyance in any other way than grabbing the nearest club and whacking the prat in his pointy nose like he’d wanted. “So, unless you want your essentials to stay down here…” he trailed off unnecessarily.

Malfoy rolled his eyes before he pulled out his wand. “Fine,” he hissed under his breath.

Harry’s eyes widened. “What the bloody Hell do you think you’re doing?”

Malfoy startled. “I knew you were a dimwit, Potter, but surely even you can tell I’m going to levitate my trunk up the stairs,” he sneered.

Harry’s nostrils flared. “There are wards here preventing underage magic. Considering the fact that there are only two underage wizards on the property, should the authorities come here to see just who the Hell cast any spells, they would come to the conclusion that the magic certainly didn’t come from my wand. Now, I know you’re a blond, but surely even you can put two and two together?” he sneered back, enjoying the flush of rage that overcame Malfoy’s face.

“Then how do you expect my trunk to get upstairs?” Malfoy grit out.

“You have two functional arms and a heartbeat, yes?” Harry rolled his eyes. “Carry it, you bloody ponce!”

Malfoy looked terrified. “I—I can’t carry this!” he sputtered, undignified. “That’s so—so plebian!”

Harry scoffed. “That’s fine, you can leave it here for all I care,” he said indifferently, shrugging his shoulders.

Malfoy clenched his fists and Harry was somewhat surprised the snobby Slytherin didn’t stomp his foot in frustration. Then again, Malfoy had a reputation to uphold (not that it mattered to Harry) and though he could throw his fits, he still had to maintain some level of decorum, and Malfoys just didn’t stomp their feet.

“I will not manually pick up my trunk like some Weasley!” he hissed disdainfully.

All traces of mirth at Malfoy’s expense vanished and a dark scowl overtook Harry’s face. He ignored Malfoy’s look of triumph at his change in expressions. “Well, at least we know should there ever be an incident without magic, they’d be able to do something. You’re rather useless, aren’t you?”

Malfoy glared furiously at him. “Don’t talk to your betters like that, Potter,” he said tightly.

“Considering the fact that I see no betters in the room with me, I’m more than positive I can talk any damn way I please,” Harry retorted, his jaw clenched.

Steam practically billowed out of Malfoy’s ears. “You filthy Half-Blood!” he hissed angrily.

Harry couldn’t help it—he laughed. He laughed hard and clutched at his sides, missing Malfoy’s shocked look and the way the blond tried to shuffle away from the very obviously mentally deranged Golden Boy. It amused Harry to no end how Malfoy fought so hard for blood purity, and yet his master was a Half-Blood himself. The irony tickled him to no end. “I can’t wait to see the look on your face when you find out,” he said, stray chuckles escaping him. “I wonder, though, would you practice what you preach or would you turn the other cheek?” If Malfoy was having a bitch fit because of carrying his trunk by hand, he’d probably keel over when he finds out that the man his family threw themselves at was nothing more than the filth they wanted to save the world from.

Harry would pay good money for front row seats to say how it all panned out.

“Find out what?” Malfoy asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes at the bane of his existence.

Harry smirked, happy to hold something over the blond’s head. If he had to put up with the idiot for the entire summer, the very least he could do was pay him back for the years the Slytherin had spent making his life at Hogwarts miserable. What way to do that would be better than irritating the crap out of him?

“Oh, nothing,” Harry said breezily, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly again.

Malfoy scowled. “Diggory’s death knocked something loose, didn’t it?” he asked snidely, smirking when Harry froze.

Harry stared at the blond as the words processed in his head. For a brief moment, he’d actually forgotten about…he’d forgotten… Without another word, Harry spun around and walked upstairs. He ignored Malfoy calling him and slammed the door to his room shut. His head was pounding something fierce and everything was getting hot. He was finding it a little more difficult to breathe, and Harry clutched at his chest. His eyes widened as his breath came in short pants, and tears welled up in his eyes. They spilled over, leaving a trail of coolness down his cheeks.

He squeezed his eyes tightly only to snap them open again when all he could see was that awful green light hitting Cedric square in the chest. The Hufflepuff never stood a chance, really. Those brown eyes would forever remain open, and Harry let out a sob when Cedric’s final request echoed in his head.

“Take my body back, will you? Please, take it back to my parents…”

He could remember everything about that night. He remembered coercing Cedric, forcing him, to take the cup with Harry. He remembered the jerk at his navel and the surprise he felt when they’d realized the cup was a portkey. He remembered the horror that overtook him when he recognized that awful graveyard in what he later discovered was Little Hangleton.

Harry remembered everything. The Gryffindor hugged himself tightly, the hot tears still travelling down his face. He especially remembered that, had it not been for him, Cedric would still be alive.

Harry didn’t know how long he’d stayed there, crumpled on the floor and sobbing like a child. It felt like hours, but since Sirius hadn’t barged into his room frantically, Harry safely assumed his sense of time was crap. Standing on shaky legs, he trudged to his bed and collapsed on it. He was mentally and emotionally exhausted, and before he knew it, his eyes began to close of their own accord. The last thing he remembered seeing was the beautiful dreamcatcher Sirius had given him taped to the wall, glinting suspiciously at him with a strange golden aura.

He was in the graveyard again. Voldemort’s lipless mouth twisted in an unpleasant snarl and he hissed the curse at him. Once more, that awful green light was aimed and travelling in his direction. Harry didn’t even really need to think about it. The spell tumbled out of his mouth faster than his brain could keep up with. It didn’t matter that nothing could stop the Killing Curse; he’d just needed to divert the path somehow. That was all he was trying to do.

A dome of magic encompassed them again, and Harry watched fearfully as the silvery mists of recent deaths came out of his enemy’s wand. One by one, until finally his parents appeared, the mists took their places on either side of him and Voldemort. His throat tightened and his heart turned cold.

Cedric’s face contorted in pain as he stared at Harry with such hurt and loss that the younger boy choked. “Why didn’t you help me?” he asked Harry, eyes wide and desperate.

Harry whimpered. “I tried,” he protested, flinching away from the hostile and accusatory stance Cedric then adopted.

“You tried?” the Hufflepuff hissed. “You got me killed!”

Harry’s attempts of denial went unheard, and eventually the mists retreated back into Voldemort’s wand, deeming him unworthy of their help. He cried at his parents’ disappointed expressions, mentally begging them to understand that he’d done his best, that he was only a boy, that he wasn’t prepared to face the monster that’d murdered them.

Voldemort’s cruel chuckled resounded throughout the empty space as the magic between them seemed to fizzle into nothingness. “Sad, isn’t it? No matter how much effort you put into something, it isn’t enough.”

Harry shook his head and ignored him. “You’re dead,” he whispered into the night. “I killed you—you’re dead.”

Harry flinched as Voldemort let out a sharp bark of laughter. “You kill me?” Voldemort drawled, his tone amused. “I’m the greatest Dark Lord this world has ever seen. How can you, a mere boy, kill me?”

“I killed you,” Harry repeated, glaring at Voldemort.

“I’m immortal, boy,” Voldemort sneered. “You can never kill me. I will always come back, Harry Potter. Always, and you will perish by my power. Mark my words, boy. I will return, and you will not live to see the end of this war.”

Harry’s eyes widened, his scar burning fiercely as he shook his head in horror. Voldemort raised his wand again, the damned curse at the tip of his tongue as the end of his wand glowed ominously green. Harry’s heart stopped, and he watched in slow motion. Before the curse could be complete, however, something unusual occurred.

Voldemort let out a scream as a large, russet wolf tore into the Dark Lord, its large teeth gleaming ominously as they sunk into the vile flesh over and over. Harry watched the carnage in shock, black liquid seeping out of Voldemort’s wounds before he melted into a puddle and was no more.

He gasped as the wolf turned its gaze to him, dark brown eyes shining with a fierce protectiveness that took his breath away. The wolf softly padded towards him, and despite seeing it viciously attack the Dark Lord mere moments ago, Harry stood perfectly still and oddly unafraid. When the wolf was right before him, it pressed its wet nose to his forehead and Harry felt like he was flying.

Looking around, Harry gaped as they were suddenly on a beach. The waves crashed against the shore and the cliffs. Harry wiggled his toes in the wet sand, enjoying the somewhat odd experience. He glanced at his feet before he looked back at the wolf. His eyes gave away his confusion, and the wolf let out an amused sounding bark before it glowed a strange golden light, much like the dreamcatcher had before, and in its place stood a man. A very naked man.

He was much taller than Harry, standing easily at around seven feet tall. His skin was a beautiful golden tan that apparently reached everywhere, making Harry wonder briefly if he basked in the sun wearing nothing but his birthday suit. His eyes were kind and deep brown, his shoulders square, and his jaw prominent. The man was muscular and his features were well-defined. He was rather good looking, Harry noted with surprise. Never before had he appreciated the male form before and, embarrassingly enough, Harry especially appreciated that the man’s well-proportioned body made him rather large everywhere.

Harry squeaked and his face erupted in a fiery blush as the man let out a deep laugh and reached down to grab shorts made of animal skin that was tied around his ankle. He was also surprised to note that he felt oddly disappointed when the man became more decent, but he rather viciously shoved that emotion away. He wasn’t a pervert, for heaven’s sake.

Harry blinked in surprise as the man walked towards him and carried him gently. “Sleep,” the man said softly. “I’ll protect you.”

Harry yawned tiredly, surprised that his body relaxed completely until he was bonelessly resting on the man’s lovely sculpted chest. He didn’t notice he was so tired, really. “Thank you,” he whispered before he closed his eyes.

He was lulled into sleep when the man sang softly in another language under his breath, no longer plagued with the every-heavy presence of guilt.

It was the first peaceful sleep he’d had in a while.

A/N: Bonus points for locating the Black Eyed Peas quote. ;D By the way, the Lady Gaga quote from the last chapter was, "Don't hide yourself in regret," from her song Born This Way.
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Pleasant Dreams