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Family Means More Than Blood	By : WingsofaDream Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 59823 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 7
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its associated characters are property of J K Rowling, not me. This story is not being written for profit, just for the lols.

Chapter List
- 6
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- 8
31st October 1987: Afternoon

Dark surroundings, no definable features to tell Him where He was. Just darkness, stretching on forever.

Three figures, features hidden in light, one shinning red, one shining grey, one shining bright white. The grey and white stood to the right and faced the red together, both standing tall and proud. From the grey, green suddenly appeared and flew forwards gracefully, shooting towards the red. A separate green light left the red soon after, travelling with far more speed than the first.

The green going towards the red faded and vanished even before it reached its target. The green heading towards the grey did not stop, it kept going, glowing bright as the seconds dragged by. It reached the grey, it encircled it, it smothered it, it extinguished it.

The white was left alone with the red. The white faded into red itself.

All was lost.

"Uhh, Father..." Harry gasped as a wave of dizziness clouded his vision as sight returned to him, the images of bright lights on black leaving him feeling drained and cold. Strong arms were already around him, keeping him up but they were not his father's. Whose were they? Oh yes, they were Bill's; the older boy had been walking with him to his lesson with the High Priest.

"Easy Harry, he's coming." Bill's soft voice murmured in his ear.

Hurried footsteps reached his ears and Harry knew that it was true; his father was coming for him and then he would be safe, he would be fine. He sagged in the older boy's arms, finding it harder and harder to remain conscious. The voices around him swam together, making one big noise which was completely unidentifiable. But then he was moving and larger, more sturdy arms were holding him and he was lifted off the floor and enveloped in a wonderful, familiar scent.

"Father..." Harry whispered.

"Shh, I'm here." The deep reply came and Harry smiled very gently; now he knew he was safe and he could finally go to sleep.

***************************************************************

31st October 1987: Evening

Harry turned over onto his side and released a small yawn as consciousness seeped back into him, slowly bringing him back into reality. He was in a bed and judging from the scent which was all around him, it was his father's bed. That meant he was in his father's quarters.

As he woke up more and more, Harry started to remember what had happened bit by bit. He had been walking along talking quite happily with Bill Weasley when everything around him had suddenly disappeared only to be replaced with the short scene of darkness and light he had witnessed. After that everything was still a little fuzzy and then there was nothing and now he was here...And he had obviously missed his lesson with High Priest Sephiran. He hoped the man was not offended by his absence.

With a sigh and a stretch, Harry swung his legs out of bed and slid down onto the floor, intending to go and tell his father that he was awake. However, when he left the bedroom, he found the sitting room was completely empty which was odd. Harry frowned lightly before going back into his father's bedroom and heading over to the bathroom door. He gave a few swift knocks on it and waited for an answer...Nothing. Throwing caution to the wind, Harry cracked the door open and peered in. The small bathroom was completely empty which meant his father was not in his quarters; it was extremely odd to say the least.

Noticing that he was still in his Saint Gwenifwar's uniform minus the thick, heavy white cloak, he decided that he would go looking for the dark, sombre figure of his father, just to reassure the man that he was now completely fine. He hurried out of the bedroom and across the sitting room, over to the portrait hole which led out into the rest of the dungeons. With a gentle push, the portrait swung outwards and Harry slipped out of the room, making sure to close the portrait hole carefully behind himself before carrying on down the corridor.

His bare feet padded quietly on the cold stone of the dungeon floors as he half walked, half jogged and his loose cotton clothing made no noise at all. With nothing but silence surrounding him, it was unsurprising that Harry heard the voices coming from a teacher's quarters that he knew for a fact did not have an occupant that year. He slowed to a stop just outside the door the muffled sound of talking was coming from and silently tip-toed closer to it, pressing his ear against the cool wood in an attempt to try and hear everything a bit better. The door moved in a bit when he did that and for a few horrible seconds, he thought he'd been caught. However, Harry soon realised that the door must not have been shut properly in the first place and the extra pressure he put on it when leaning against it, as little as it must have been, had caused it to swing in slightly. When he was once again sure that it was safe to continue his little bout of spying, he peered through the newly created crack between the door and its frame.

"I want him now, Pettigrew!" A familiar, angry voice hissed and Harry saw the DADA professor with his head in the room's fireplace.

"I'm trying my best Master but for some reason he's decided to hate me before even interacting with me."

"I am not interested in your excuses. You are completely incompetent! How hard is it to gain the trust of a nine year old child or even to just find an opportune moment to snatch him?"

"He has many friends here My Lord, it's impossible to get him alone..."

"What did I just say about your excuses?"

"Sorry Master."

"I want him Pettigrew, I want him now; tonight."

"T-tonight? B-but My Lord..."

"Do not test me, Pettigrew. I am growing increasingly irritated with your lack of success and your pathetic attempts to gain such an innocent boy's trust. What I have asked you to do is in no way hard yet you have failed several times now."

Harry's eyes had grown wider as the two voices conversed and now his jaw had dropped as well. They were talking about him! It explained why he always felt the DADA professor's beady eyes on him and he was the only nine year old in the school. And now Voldemort wanted him that very night. In that case, there was no way in hell he was going to stay there and eavesdrop anymore. He was going to run all the way to the Headmaster's office and demand for once that he be taken seriously before telling the old man everything he had just heard. At the back of his mind, he was silently cheering about the fact that he had been right not to trust the school's latest DADA teacher but that was something to be gloated over later on.

Unfortunately, by an act of Fate or bad luck, Pettigrew chose that moment to get his head out of the fire and look behind him, his eyes immediately falling onto where Harry was lurking by the doorway. The young boy immediately gasped in horror and stumbled away, not hesitating in dashing back off down the corridor once again as quickly as he could. As he turned a corner, he distantly heard the yelled voice of Voldemort ordering Pettigrew to pursue him and that only made him pick up his pace even more. However, it turned out to make no difference how fast he ran because a door to a room just ahead of him suddenly opened and Pettigrew emerged, stepping into Harry's path and, before the young boy could skid to a stop, he had crashed into the lump of lard and was hauled up and flung over one of the man's shoulders.

How? And when? How in the world had this fat oaf of a man manage to not only get ahead of him but also to get into what he guessed was a classroom in order to spring out and surprise him? It made no sense! And it was grossly unfair! Because now he was being carried, none too gently as well because, for the fat man that Pettigrew was, he had an extremely bony shoulder which was bruising his ribs, on his way to somewhere where he was going to confront the Dark Lord Voldemort on his own. Completely on his own! He was going to die! He just knew it.

"Let me go! Let me go! LET ME GO!" Harry yelled as he struggled desperately, thrashing his arms and legs and twisting his body around furiously. Suddenly, half way through a yell, his voice just stopped coming out despite the fact he was still trying to make noise.

"There, that's shut you up." The fat man muttered as they made it outside of the front doors of Hogwarts and he tucked his wand back into the pocket of his robes.

Harry may not have been able to speak anymore but that just meant he could concentrate on struggling free. He bucked and pushed and thrashed but never tried hitting the man who had him so unceremoniously thrown over his shoulder; as far as he knew, the Vow of Pacifism still applied to this kind of situation. All his movement did seem to have an affect and at several points he was very close to being dropped and that only fed his determination.

After another few minutes, just when Harry was starting to grow tired and his muscles began to feel heavy, he was abruptly dropped onto the ground. A small cheer of triumph was cried inside the young boy's head as he thought this was his chance and he could now run back to the safety of Hogwarts and get help. However, that thought died as quickly as it was born when he spotted the dark, cloaked figure with burning red eyes standing less than a foot away from him. Upon seeing that sight, Harry completely froze where he was, unable to force his muscles to move.

"Hello Harry." Voldemort greeted him kindly, closing the distance between them and kneeling down to where the young boy was still sprawled out on the ground. "It's been quite a while since we last saw each other and my, how you've grown. Turning into such a beautiful young man." He mused, brushing a few strands of hair out of Harry's wide eyes in an affectionate manner. "How have you been since we last spoke?"

Harry wanted to answer, he really did, if only so that the strange man who was still caressing his face so gently would not get angry and switch to doing something far more unpleasant. The spell was still on him making him mute though and he was unsure how he was going to get that across. Thinking on his feet, he tilted his head back a little and patted his throat, just over his voice-box and then pointed towards Pettigrew who was standing off at the side nervously. Thankfully, Voldemort seemed to understand what he was saying as he cast a quick "Finite Incantatum" before glaring at the Death Eater.

"I'll deal with you later." The Dark Lord hissed poisonously making the short, fat man quiver fearfully before he turned his red eyes back onto Harry, who had now sat up into an ideal position to be able to bolt the moment he got a chance. "Now, as I asked before, how have you been, Harry?"

"Very well, thank you, My Lord." Harry answered politely, hiding the fear and disgust he actually felt. "I-I apologise, My Lord, but I can't stay here with you; I have to go back before I'm missed..." He said, quickly getting onto his feet and making a move to dash away. However, a long slim hand was quickly wrapped around his small wrist in an uncomfortable grip. It was not painful but it was definitely not something he wanted to continue.

"You can't go back, Harry." Voldemort told him sternly, his voice taking on a dark quality and Harry stubbornly kept himself from looking at the man for fear of the expression he would see.

"My Lord, I was merely going to go back to make sure that my presence wasn't missed so..." Harry began to lie in order to negate the Dark Lord's anger as much as possible now it was clear that the opportunity to escape had passed.

"And that is why you can't go back, Harry." The man told him, his tone suddenly softening. "I don't want you to go back and get your heart broken."

"What...?" Harry asked, finally once again looking at Voldemort. The expression he found on the man's face was surprising; he looked sad, sympathetic and deep in his eyes there was just a hint of a gleam of hatred for something unknown but somehow apparent not for him.

"Your presence isn't going to be missed my young prince." Voldemort told him gently, tugging him closer a little by the grip he still held on his wrist.

"It...It's not?"

"No. The only reason I'm here for you now is because..." The man hesitated as if trying to steel himself for what he was about to say next. "Is because your father came to me with a request."

"My father went to you...?" Harry echoed, a strange fuzzy feeling starting to over-take him. He was confused. Why would his father go to the Dark Lord about anything now? Ever since Narcissa had died he knew that his father held no loyalty to Voldemort and even more so now that he knew the mad-man was after him for some reason.

"Yes, he asked me if I would be kind enough to take you in." The Dark Lord stopped again and took a deep breath in before speaking once more. "Haryon, my dear darling boy, I hate to be the one to tell you this but...Your father...Severus...He...He no longer desires to be your father."

The fuzziness turned into a cloud and it was getting harder to think properly. But Harry felt the blood in veins turn to ice, his stomach and heart sank, his eyes widened and instantly filled with tears and a small gasp escaped him as his jaw dropped a little. His father...His father no longer wanted him? Why? Why now? Was...Could it be because of that afternoon when he had passed out? Was all of this too much for the man? The stress of having a son who was desired by one of the most powerful wizards ever and who seemed to be going mad what with countless nightmares and now hallucinations? It made sense even through the cloud. If his own birth mother and father had not wanted him when he was barely a few hours old and had been unable to do anything to cause trouble, why would a usually cold man who had no real reason to care for him put up with all the trouble his mere existence had caused over the past year? It was completely understandable, it was bound to happen one day...But that made it no easier to deal with and it made it no easier to realise that, once again, he was unwanted...

"He...He doesn't want..." Harry breathed, staring ahead at Voldemort with tearful eyes, his free hand coming up to hover over his mouth. "B-but, what about Uncle Lucius and Draco...?"

"I am so sorry, my darling." Voldemort whispered, bringing a hand up to cup the young boy's cheek.

Harry shook his head a little, not enough to disrupt the Dark Lord's hand on his cheek, and stared at the man in front of him with horrified eyes. "W-why? Did I...Did I do something? Did he say why? Did he tell you..." The shaking dark haired boy paused as tears began to fall from his eyes. "I tried so hard to be as good as I could...What was it I did wrong...?" More tears came. "He's left me too...Am I...Am I really that awful that no one wants me?"

"No, my prince, no, of course not." The Dark Lord quickly assured, pulling Harry fully into his arms and the small boy did not even protest, the cloud over his mind blocking out who it was offering the comfort and stopping him from thinking clearly and logically. "Those who have left you, they are the ones who are awful. They are cruel and hateful and weak, unable to truly comprehend what a beautiful, wonderful young man you are."

"I'm alone...Oh Goddess, I'm alone again!" Harry sobbed heart-brokenly.

"No Harry, no you're not alone, you're never alone because you have me. I'll keep you and I'll take you away from here, away from all the heart ache and rejection and I'll keep you safe and warm and I'll love you, I'll love you the way you deserve to be loved." Voldemort cooed gently, rocking the body in his arms.

Upon hearing that, a small swell of hope filled Harry's fractured heart and he clung to it desperately in a hope to ease the ache which felt as though it was ripping away at him from the inside. Still the cloud blocked out whose arms he was in, who exactly it was that was making these wonderful, comforting, sweet promises and he accepted them; he believed they were true because he could do nothing else. No one wanted him, he was alone again except the man whose arms he was currently being rocked so gently in. And that was why, tentatively, small arms rose to wrap around the larger form, pressing himself closer to the warmth of the strong chest, pulling himself so that his chin could comfortably rest on Voldemort's shoulder and so that he missed the triumphant sneer which passed across the man's face at the action.

"Harry?" Voldemort whispered gently, turning his head towards the young boy's slightly. "Before we leave, I need to mark you so that no one will ever be able to take you from me and I can take care of you without interruption."

"Mark me?" Harry repeated in a tearful whisper, drawing back enough to look into the shining red eyes which looked at him with such longing and affection and seemed to make the cloud thicken.

"Just a tiny little mark on your forehead, right here." He explained, gently running his fingertips over the area he was talking about, just above the right eyebrow.

"Will it hurt?"

"Yes."

Still reluctant but having no other option clear to him, Harry hesitantly nodded his consent and was rewarded with a smiled "good boy" from the Dark Lord which made him smile a little once again. Voldemort's arms fell from around him and the young boy took the hint and allowed his own arms to drop as well. "Now Harry, this will hurt, quite a bit I imagine, but as soon as I'm done I'll be able to cast a numbing charm on it all right? I just need you to be a brave boy and grit your teeth and bear it for a couple of minutes; can you do that?"

Harry nodded sombrely.

"Good boy."

The man placed a soft kiss on the area where the mark would soon be before drawing back completely and raising his left hand and, for the first time, Harry noticed just how long the Dark Lord's nails were. The boy closed his eyes, preparing himself for the pain which he was so sure was going to be like nothing he had ever felt. And then it came...And it was nothing terrible. It was sharp and uncomfortable and he wanted it to stop but it was nothing unbearable. Concentrating on the sharp pain which was the source, Harry guessed that some sort of shape was being scratched into his skin with something sharp and, considering what he had just seen with the Dark Lord's nails and the position the man's hands were in, he guessed that it was a fingernail being used to make the cut.

A short while later, the nail left him and the sharp pain left leaving behind a strong throb which radiated out from the cut. The distinct sensation of blood trickling down his skin scared him for a few moments before he felt a soft cloth of some sort being rubbed along the trail of blood, wiping it away. After all the blood had been removed, he heard Voldemort whisper a quick charm and no more blood followed.

"That was just the first step Harry." Voldemort told him gently, tilting the boy's head up so they could look each other straight in the eye. "This next bit is the most important bit but it's also the bit that will hurt the most. I need you to be really brave here, even braver than before."

Harry could only find the strength to nod quickly.

"All right." The man said with a small nod of his own as he pulled out his wand from inside his robes. "Here, put your hands on my arm and squeeze if you need to." He instructed as he moved the small hand onto his left arm. Harry gave them a small squeeze almost as if experimenting before taking a deep breath and nodding that he was ready. The wand was raised and pressed to the newly given wound and something was hissed in a strange way, like some sort of made up language...

...And then the pain began. A scream of agony ripped itself out of Harry's delicate throat as his head felt like it was being split in half. He instinctively tried to move away from the source of the pain but a strong hand suddenly wrapped around his neck in just the right position so he was not being strangled but he was being held him in place. His screaming continued as the pain leveled out to such an intensity that Harry felt his legs buckle beneath him and he sagged slightly as the fight to not pass out sapped the energy from everywhere else in his body. Far off, he thought he heard Voldemort praising him, assuring him that he was doing well and it would be over soon, but it was so unclear and he was in so much pain that it may have been a hallucination.

Small hands clutched at Voldemort's arm as tightly as they could, using him as an anchor to keep the mind connected to the arms sane and conscious. But then, as suddenly as the pain had started, it was gone and so was Voldemort. Without anything to support himself on, Harry's legs gave way beneath him and he crumpled to the floor in a heap. He sobbed out a breath, realising that he had not been breathing properly and desperately needing to now. Opening his eyes, Harry was more than a little shocked to discover that he was no longer touching the grass beneath him and was actually flying through the air. Everything felt so numb to him at that moment however that it really should have been no surprise he had felt nothing. However, he did feel it when he collided with a warm chest and strong arms wrapped around him quickly.

Looking up weakly and twisting his head around so he could look up to see who it was exactly who had caught him, Harry's eyes widened in confusion and surprise at who, exactly, it was that seemed to have "rescued" him. "Uncle Lucius?" He breathed out in wonder; he thought Voldemort had said he was unwanted? Somewhere at the back of his mind where everything was still marginally coherent he noted that there was an unconscious Peter Pettigrew sprawled out on the grass to the side.

"Oh Haryon, what has he done to you?" The blond man whispered as he gently lifted Harry's dark fringe and the small boy felt a pang of fear as he wondered exactly what it was that the Dark Lord had done to him. Obviously nothing good if his godfather's expression was anything to go by.

"Malfoy!" Voldemort's voice suddenly roared angrily and Harry was immediately set down and pulled behind Lucius's form protectively. "Would you kindly explain what you think you are doing?"

"You took my wife; you will not take my godson." Lucius answered with a glare as he lifted his wand and pointed it at the Dark Lord.

Harry clung to his godfather's leg as the cloud started to lift and the implications of what his godfather said dawned on him; he was wanted! Voldemort had lied to him; Lucius, at least, still wanted him! That could mean that what the Dark Lord had said about Severus not wanting him was a lie too! But even if that was actually true, Lucius still wanted him and surely, even if the man could not talk his father around, he would be welcomed with open arms at Malfoy Manor still.

"You think you can just take him now, Lucius?" Voldemort sneered. "He's mine now, that mark tells you and the world that's so, you can't change that. And what else are you going to try? Are you going to try and kill me Lucius?" A mocking laugh. "I would certainly like to see that."

Harry watched with wide eyes as his godfather drew back his wand and spat out, in the angriest voice he had ever heard the man speak in, "Avada Kedavra!" In reply, not even a millisecond later, Voldemort released the same curse, his voice just as angry and hate filled, and instantly Harry knew only too well what was going to happen. The scene he had watched just before he passed out that afternoon, it had been a warning, a warning for what was about to happen now. The Killing curse, that awful green light, was going to hit his darling godfather and he would die, leaving Draco alone, leaving him alone...

With a burst of strength that no one would ever suspect from the slight form of the young boy paired with the fact Lucius was not standing in the best stance for balance, Harry managed to shove the blond man down and to the side, effectively getting him out of the path of the racing green light. There was no time to move himself though. He cared little about that however; he would be glad to die if it meant that Lucius could stay and be with Draco. He would go and join Aunt Narcissa and wait for the day that they could all be reunited again.

Several voices screamed his name in fear as the green light enveloped him. Harry closed his eyes serenely, ready to accept whatever it was that death had to offer him, as he felt himself being thrown back. A male scream of either pain or anguish reached his ears as he continued to soar and gravity began to pull him back down. The last thing he was aware of was a sharp pain in the back of his head before all went silent and blank.
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Family Means More Than Blood