Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

One That Stood Alone	By : tsubasagahoushi Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 1867 -:- 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
- 8
- 9
"Relashio Maxima!" Harry hissed loudly as massive sparks burned through his cloak and singed his skin. Staggering backwards, he shook the burned arm without even pausing to take in the damage.

"Furnunculus!"

"Protego!" The spell hit the shield causing a flash of orange light to brighten the room. The Potions Professor sneered, expecting more from the boy before him. Apparently he hadn't challenged Potter enough in the past week. "Crucio!"

Harry darted to the side just as the Unforgivable flew past him. He let out a withheld breath; he was glad he missed it this time. "Stupefy!" Again, Harry's spell merely reflected off in a flash of light as Snape's shield blocked its intended effect. The light dimmed, a thin veil of ivory mist fading from the Potion Master's form. Harry took this opportunity to strike. "Crucio!"

Severus Snape was not expecting the attack. Coal black eyes widened slightly as he fell down to one knee, the curse working its way through his body. Head hanging, his body shook with the strength of the Cruciatus. Potter was getting better... but was nothing in comparison to Voldemort's strength. Harry's wand lowered as he watched his professor trembling on the ground.

"Finite Incantatem."

"Accerso Dementor!" Thick ashen mist spewed forth from Snape's wand, billowing into the large dungeon room to loom over the Gryffindor. Harry's heart pounded in his chest as the screaming filled his ears and mind.

"Expecto Patronum!" The dementor thrust out its chest, arms stretching toward Harry. His breathing became quicker as the screams grew louder. "Expecto Patronum!" A skeletal hand cracked as it curled into a loose fist. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" His own shout was lost amongst the screaming fear ringing madly in his ears, pounding in his chest. The dementor arched its back and swooped down on him just as the world faded to black.

It was a field of wreckage. Where Hogwarts once stood was mere shambles of walls as a tattered school banner blew in the humid breeze. The Forbidden Forest had been ravaged, massive trees collapsed atop one another whilst others were utterly shattered into splinters of wood which littered the dark ground. There was a stench in the air, carried on the breeze to choke at the lungs and sting the eyes. The ground felt uneven beneath his feet as though he were standing on...

Bodies. They became the ground, covering every inch of the massive grave. Thrown over one another, piled into heaps of dead, their faces twisted into expressions of pure horror and agony. Harry's mouth fell open in a silent scream, his body not knowing how to respond as it shifted into a state of terrified shock. There was a whisper, barely a sound off in the distance. It grew in strength. First from afar, then behind, then below... Eyes sprang open in a lifeless stare as the sound was recognized. The bodies had awoken.

"You killed us. You killed us. You killed us." The chant grew in strength, pulsating throughout Harry's body. Shaking his head, a muttered denial on his lips, he stumbled backward. His foot slipped amongst the bodies and he fell, rolling down the small hill which was formed by the piles of dead. They tore at his cloak, hair, and skin as he slid past them. "You killed us. You killed us. You killed-"

"NO!" Harry's hands connected with grass instead of cold, lifeless flesh. The voices were gone along with the bodies, save for the one beneath him.

"You said you would protect me, Harry." Wide emerald eyes sprang open, his throat working at words.

"Draco..." The blond beneath him began to sink into the ground as though being consumed by the very thing. Long, tapered fingers reached out from the darkness under the Slytherin to slide about his neck, pulling him ever closer to the sudden abyss. Red eyes pierced into Harry's from below, where the earth had been, as Draco was pulled closer and closer to the Dark Lord.

"Ennervate!" Harry's eyes snapped open just as the spell struck his body, mere seconds before he was about to wake himself from the terrifying plunge into the psychotic. Severus Snape stood over Harry, looking down at the Gryffindor with an expression of scorn. Yet if one knew Severus, it could be told that the man was disappointed as well as distressed. Harry grimaced, one hand making its way to his head as though to hold the horrid images within the cage of his mind, forever to be locked away.

"Your infamous patronus did not appear, Potter." Biting back the sarcastic reply, Harry merely opted for glaring at the black haired man over the rim of his glasses. Professor and pupil scowled at one another in heavy silence. Furrowing his brows, Harry was the first to avert his gaze as he roughly ran a hand through his hair.

"How did it even--"

"It is not important how the Dementor appeared, Potter. I stress that you focus on the painful fact that you were utterly unable to defend yourself from it, much less disperse the creature from the dungeon. The dementors work for Voldemort," the Dark Lord's name fell from the Potions Professor's lips like putrid oil, "If you cannot be rid of one dementor, you have absolutely no hopes of getting near the man, much less defeating him." The scorn was evident in his voice and Harry literally bit his lip against any angry retort. The slimy git was bloody right. The dementors had fallen under Voldemort's command last year, since he allowed them many more Kisses than the Ministry. The creatures craved the souls of wizards and muggles alike, Voldemort not caring from which the dementors fed.

"One more time." Harry stood, the room swaying about him while his stomach twisted and plummeted most uncomfortably; he was going to be sick. The dementor seemed to have been stronger than ever, the pain of his mother's death the most vivid he had ever felt. Clenching his jaw against the wave of dizzy nausea, he raised his wand once more. Snape merely cocked an eyebrow before pursing his lips and lazily drawing his wand.

"Accerso Dementor." The billowing figure reappeared, spreading its arms wide as it sprung forth from the wand. Harry winced as the screaming tore through his ears. There was a faint smell of flowers before the repugnant odor of burned flesh accosted his senses, leaving a wretched taste on his tongue which did nothing to help his nausea. This was the smell of his mother and her death. This was Lily Evans-Potter's final moments.

"Expecto Patronum!" Thoughts of his mother. The smiling face in the moving wizard pictures. The kindness which he had never known. Something pulsed in his palm which tightly grasped his wand but it was far from enough. The dementor flew upwards to the highest point in the dungeon before swooping down in a direct attack on its prey.

"Expecto Patronum!" James Potter. His father whom he looked so much like. A seeker. A Marauder. Like Sirius. This time not even the dull throb of power pulsed in his hand. His heart tightened as his vision swayed under the strain of the torturous cries of his mother's death. The mother he never knew. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" His voice was desperate, wand aimed directly at the looming dementor which charged toward him. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" His voice screamed the spell in anger, in agony, in a vain attempt at drowning out the screams which assaulted his ears.

Nothing but the faintest of silvery mists shimmered at the tip of his wand.

The dementor reached out its long arms, placing rotting hands on both sides of Harry's smooth face. The touch nearly drove him mad. Images rushed through his mind. A flash of crimson hair. Shouts of spells. Screams. Terror. So much fear it was palpable in the air; he breathed it in and felt as though it would drown him. Harry Potter looked into the face of the dementor as it prepared to give its Kiss and was the first wizard ever to welcome it.

"Expecto Patronum!" His breath hitched as the dementor fled the suddenly brilliant light. His vision blurred as his lungs rapidly tried to pull in the oxygen which they had been deprived of while under the clutch of the creature. Harry fell backwards, hard, head knocking against the stone of the floor. The dungeon ceiling whirled overhead as the dark blur of the spell's caster loomed over him, a voice whirring in his ears before the darkness stole over him.

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

"Really, Blaise Zabini doesn't seem that horrid, Ron."

"He's a Slytherin, Hermione. I don't care if Seamus is friends with the bloke; he's bad news."

"You just don't like him because he asked Ginny to Samhain tomorrow night." There were sputtering sounds as Ronald Weasley desperately searched for some other reason to despise the git who had marched over to the Gryffindor table that evening, leaning over Ginny and openly asking her to the dance.

"He had no right! And he's bad news for Ginny! He's- He's a Slytherin! Hermione, stop laughing; I'm serious!"

Harry lay still as the conversation filtered into his foggy mind. Slytherin... platinum blond hair and mercury eyes which melted under his gaze. Smooth porcelain skin splayed against his own scarred and imperfect chest. A moan escaped his lips despite himself, causing all prior laughter and conversation to die.

"Harry! You've finally woken up. Are you alright?" Blinking his eyes open, he instantly wished he hadn't. Wincing, he screwed them tightly shut against the bright light which bounced off all the white in the infirmary. Disorientated, he backtracked through his memory as to how he had come to be here in the first place. Not that it was an uncommon environment for The Boy Who Lived, but he rather liked to know what landed him in the crisp linen sheets.

"You don't look too good, mate. Maybe you should rest a bit more." Slowly opening his eyes and allowing them to adjust to the sudden brightness, Harry squinted at the redhead. Blearily reaching for his glasses, he placed them on his nose and narrowed his eyes as the world focused into perspective.

"I didn't like your sudden studies with Professor Snape in the first place, Harry, but things have gone too far. You've been unconscious for hours- you missed dinner again tonight." Pushing back his hair with one hand, a tired sigh escaped Harry's lips. Hermione had adamantly opposed his training with the Potions Master. Instead of once a week, Harry had trained every day with the head of Slytherin house, each night returning to his dormitory even more bruised and withdrawn. The day after Cho's honorable obituary in the Daily Prophet, along with the other six aurors who also died that night, he had asked Snape- in so many words- if he would train him. The professor had merely regarded him coldly before asking what was wrong with the Defense Against the Dark Arts 'special' training Harry received. The fact was, Harry couldn't bear to be around Luminos anymore than need be. He didn't care if there was an explanation for the Dark Mark; Harry couldn't trust the man. Rationally thinking, Harry knew there had to be a reason behind his affiliation with Voldemort, but his psyche couldn't take another blow. It was too similar to third year and Sirius' escape from Azkaban. Despite the ache in his chest that wished to continue his relationship with the DADA professor, Harry had turned to Severus Snape. At least it was clear where his loyalties lie.

"I'm fine, Hermione. I want to get a better view on things. Snape has worked directly with Voldemort." Although apparently so does Luminos, thought Harry. "He's the best person to learn from." His two friends became quiet at the mention of the Dark Lord. It didn't matter that no one else was in the infirmary, or even the fact that Voldemort was very obviously alive, even Ron and Hermione had trouble hearing the name uttered so casually.

The silence filled the room. Ron and Hermione shifted their gazes to anywhere but Harry. All three knew the underlying meaning behind his purpose- Harry was going to be rid of the Dark Lord this year or die trying. Well, at least Harry knew that last bit. He never had told them of the prophecy, so they didn't understand that he was the only one who could destroy Voldemort. Even so, there really was nothing to say; his friends knew any words of sympathy or aid were unheard or disregarded. Despite their Gryffindor bravery, when it was a very conscious decision and not an instant life-or-death situation, it was much harder to claim your infallible aid in destroying one of the most powerful wizards of all time.

Harry shifted, pushing back the bed covers as he slowly slipped his legs over the edge of the infirmary bed despite every cry of protest from his weakened muscles. His movement drew the attention of his fellow Gryffindors, and soon Hermione stood and came around the bedside where Harry was attempting to stand.

"What do you think you're doing, Harry? You can't go anywhere tonight- not in your condition." Harry paused in his task of getting off the bed, arms propped behind him and head tilted up at the Head Girl.

"Hermione, I am perfectly fine. I've been through far worse than run-ins with deme--" He abruptly stopped himself from finishing his thought. They still didn't know about his inability to produce his patronus and he didn't intend for them to find out anytime soon. Hermione's eyes squinted in thought, but the immediate urgency of getting Harry back in bed took top priority.

"Honestly, Harry, you can't possibly be able to stand right now. Madame Pomfrey says you're malnourished and deplenished of all your energy. She left a potion for you to take and you're to stay in the infirmary tonight under strict orders. You have to regain your strength; when Professor Snape brought you here, you looked just as ragged as Sirius when he escaped from Azka--"

"I think he understands, 'Mione." Ron's low yet calm voice cut off the ranting young woman just as she realized what she had said. Her hand flew to her mouth and she looked at Harry with sorrow in her eyes. It nearly killed him.

"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry! I just--" Suddenly, Harry realized that he had never once talked about Sirius with either of his friends since the... incident... at the Ministry. In fact, he hadn't heard the name mentioned from them in over a year, so it had seemed almost foreign on her lips. Had he really allowed for the memory of Sirius to be made into something so unnatural?

Ron stood from his chair and moved to the side of the bed, pulling Hermione to him with one arm. She gladly leaned into the loose embrace, terribly shaken by what she had just said. Hermione was coming apart at the edges what with their NEWTs and constantly worrying about Harry. She had slipped, and the slack comment brought the usually stern girl to the brink of tears. Harry's mind felt as though it was just hexed with an extremely strong Impedimenta. Ron nodded to Harry, instructing him on the potion left for his consumption on the bedside table. Bidding him goodbye, the redhead led Hermione out of the infirmary with the promise to check in on Harry first thing tomorrow morning.

Long after the doors closed, Harry remained in his exact same position between completely lying on the bed and moving to stand. Had he really been so caught up in his own pain that he hadn't seen his best friends' anguish? Yes. He had. And the worst bit still, was he couldn't think about it even now. Even though he knew the thought of Sirius' death plagued the minds of his friends as well, Harry still could not bare to dwell on it. A sudden sense of self-loathing swirled in his gut. Did he really believe he was that pompous- so above everyone else's emotions that they couldn't possibly feel what he was feeling?

But that was the thing. Harry wasn't feeling anything at all. Sixth year had worn him down. Through all the smiles, all the false hope and sympathy, Harry's true emotions were completely and utterly destroyed. The only time he had ever felt anything was when he cut or... The caress of soft skin against his own. The tickle of silvery strands as they played about his throat, sensual lips tracing his neck with their passionate touches. His body strained at the memory and it did nothing for his aching muscles. Biting his lower lip, Harry allowed himself to collapse back onto the sterility of the infirmary bed.

It does not do to dwell on memories of which he could never partake again. His face twisted into a semblance of emotional agony. His chest ached and it was not only because the muscles there had been caught by a particularly strong spell hours ago. Harry hadn't felt anything like this since he watched his godfather fall through the veil. For some reason unknown to him, he cared about Draco Malfoy.

"Can't sodding believe Sev. Bloody make up his own mind, won't he? Now he wants me to go to Potter. 'Tell Potter today's Potions assignment- it's not as though the boy can hope to pass otherwise.' Fucking prat." Harry's throat clenched as the harsh whispers grew louder. Draco Malfoy slipped through the infirmary doors and glanced about the large empty room.

In all honesty, Draco had been wishing to speak with Harry all week. He desperately wanted to grab the boy, slam him up against the nearest wall, and demand an explanation. Draco Malfoy was not abandoned. Draco Malfoy was not walked out on. Draco Malfoy did not give a damn in the first place. Hissing through his teeth, Draco ran a hand through his platinum blond locks. Quietly gliding over to the only occupied bed, he suppressed the shudder that ran up his spine. The infirmary didn't exactly hold the most pleasant of memories for him this year.

"Malfoy?" Draco jerked his head towards the voice, not expecting Harry to be awake. His body had been so deathly still that he instantly thought the boy remained unconscious. Draco had heard several things about Harry's condition- most pulled directly from Severus himself. Straightening his posture even more than its usual regal demeanor, Draco regarded Harry with the utmost scorn.

"Obviously."

"What are you doing here?" Harry's voice wavered, giving Draco all the more reassurance in himself. He couldn't help but remember the beginning of term when their roles were very much reversed. He liked it far better this way.

"Wandering the infirmary for my own jollies. What do you think, Potter?" The spat surname caused Harry to flinch, the reaction noticed by Draco. He lifted the schoolbooks. "Professor Snape believes you need to be told what we covered in class today. We are partners, afterall." Harry's eyelashes fluttered low, his gaze falling to the rumpled sheets. His entire body seemed to drain of all energy, as though Malfoy's mere presence tired him.

"Not now, Dra-Malfoy." Clenching his jaw tight, Draco watched as Harry pulled himself completely back onto the bed and positioned himself properly vertical before falling against the pillows. His grip on the books tightened, knuckles turning white in the strain. He would not beg for any sort of explanation. He would not care that Harry looked like death, far too pale and thin for his own good. Pulling one of the nearby chairs- no doubt recently occupied by the Weasel or Mudblood- close to the bed, Draco sat and set out the book and parchment atop the bed next to Harry.

"I am not about to fail my NEWT on your behalf, Potter. The topic was an analyzation and in-depth study of ritualistic blood potions." Harry's eyes snapped open at this. Draco only sneered. "Ironic, isn't it? Seems Sev does have a sense of humor under those layers of disdain." The smallest of smirks upturned Harry's lips causing Draco's breath to catch. Cursing to himself, Draco ran a hand through his hair once more. Harry furrowed his brow at this action but the blond Slytherin continued without any regards to the raven haired boy. "Blood is extremely important in potions and only used for those that are highly potent and dangerous- typically the Dark Arts."

"Are you nervous?" Draco sputtered at this, then realized he had done so, covering it up with a sneer.

"Why would I be nervous, Potter?" Harry merely shrugged his shoulders. He was sure of it, though. Draco only ran his hand through his hair when he was upset or nervous about something. But he hadn't the energy to tease the Slytherin anymore on the subject.

"As I was saying, a wizard's power resides in their blood. This is why lineage is so important in the wizarding world. Power is passed on from generation to generation through the blood, thus each family has its own distinctive abilities." Harry raised a brow at this, intrigued by the concept. So he was linked to his parents in an even deeper way than he initially thought. Somehow, it was comforting to know that the same power his father and mother had pulsed through his very veins.

"This is why there is such social uprest over the integration of mudbloods," Harry glared at Draco and the blond only rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders. "Whether it seems prejudiced or not, they dilute the power in wizarding lines. The more muggle-borns," Draco dramatically emphasized the politically correct term, "That are added into the lineage, the weaker the magic becomes."

"My mother was muggle-born." Draco raised his brow at the stern remark. "My magic doesn't seem to be that weak." Draco smirked at Harry's admission of strength. Usually the boy was denying any power he possessed, and to hear him adamantly state his magickal strength intrigued Draco.

"James Potter was a pureblood, though. He makes up for much of your power source."

"How did you know my father was a pureblood?" Draco leaned back, arms crossed over his chest as his eyes closed in memory.

"Mother would often prattle on about Sirius Black, thus in terms with his best mate James Potter. I learned much about both men- more so her cousin. From what I heard, he seemed to be a rather interesting bloke. If mother loathed him so, I have to imagine he must be. Or been, rather." When Draco opened his eyes, he noticed Harry staring off at nothing, away from him and across the room. The blond mentally chastised himself. He bloody forgot the same dead man was Harry's sodding godfather! What idiot would forget that? The way Potter had responded in anger whenever the likes of Sirius Black was mentioned should have been the red flag for him to shut his bloody mouth.

"We're getting off-topic. Now concerning the importance of the blood--"

"He was." Draco regarded Harry quizzically. The Gryffindor focused his gaze on Draco, tired emerald eyes looking as though they had seen all the sorrow in the world. "Sirius Black was a very interesting bloke." Silence hung in the air before the Slytherin spoke, his voice retaining its initial scorn but softened as though divulging something that shouldn't be said.

"I would've rather fancied meeting him then. I've heard wicked tales of the 'pompous, disdainful git' from Sev. I can only imagine what the man did to my godfather." Emerald lightened, the flicker of playfulness sparkling in their depths.

"For starters, Sirius- and my dad- called him 'Snivellus.'" Draco laughed despite himself, biting back the hysterics which threatened to spill forth. His own eyes shone with a particular sparkle of mischief like that before he was about to get someone into serious trouble for his own amusement.

"That's absolutely fantastic. I'll have to remember that one."

Both boys smiled at one another, allowing themselves this moment to merely laugh at the thought of the stern Potions Master being called 'Snivellus'. Harry went on to mention several other small aspects of Sirius-- the fact that he was Harry's godfather, how he had been the one to give him his Firebolt in third year, the manner in which Sirius behaved on a day-to-day basis. It was good to merely speak of Sirius lightly without having to explain any of the darker aspects of his past. Draco commented and cursed the man for allowing Harry to own the better broom. Really, it hadn't been fair at all. The room grew silent after the fourth tale of mischief and jokes, a calm sort of air in the room laced with dread. Just as Harry was about to open his mouth to speak what he hadn't said in years, Draco cut him off.

"We really should get back to the assignment. I wasn't joking when I said I don't want to fail my NEWT because of you, Potter." Harry's small smile faltered and he nodded. Draco was still sore about their present relationship, not wishing to acknowledge the part of him that had enjoyed the light-hearted conversation. Even when they had been snogging, there hadn't been any real conversation and he didn't want any now. At least he was forcing himself into believing that. Pulling the book off of the bed, he fingered through the pages until reaching the desired passage.

"It is not uncommon for a wizard to take another's blood in order to consume their power. This is how vampires came to be- they were actually once wizards but drank too much blood causing an addiction to the power. Once the blood is consumed, then the two are forever connected which is why the other wizard is usually killed. If the other is not killed, a bond occurs of the strongest nature, mostly for abuse of power. Honestly, Potter, is it that difficult to pay attention?" The small smile that had lingered on his lips was gone, his entire body felt as though it were ice. There was a connection between blood. If a wizard consumed your blood they had your power and vice versa. The scar on his chest burned and he snapped his attention back to Draco.

"How long are they connected?" His voice cracked at this, throat horribly dry. All playful thoughts of Sirius had been smothered by the memory of crimson pouring down his throat, nearly choking him. Draco looked directly into faded emerald eyes as he spoke, a flicker of concern making its way into his gut.

"It depends how much blood was consumed. A few drops should suffice for minor changes but nothing severe." Had Potter pieced it together yet? It was the first thing Draco had thought of when Snape assigned them to this particular subject. Draco's pulse quickened at the memory of Harry's life in his mouth, the taste of his power coppery on his tongue. He dismissed the memory from his mind. They hadn't shared that much blood to completely be bound to one another, anyways.

"And if it was more...?" Harry voice was a coarse whisper, his vision blurring as his heart rate sped then slowed as the anticipation grew. There was a gaping hole in his stomach which only seemed to grow larger with dread.

"If it's a pint or more, then power is permanently taken. If the blood is exchanged a sort of bond occurs, nothing like a veela bond, but one of mental and physical aspects. If enough blood is exchanged and taken in, two people can essentially become one, I suppose." Draco shrugged, wondering why Potter suddenly showed so much interest in potions. When Draco looked at Harry again the boy's face had drained of all color, his eyes wide as he stared blankly ahead.

"Must it be consumed?" Harry's voice was but a whisper, barely a movement of the lips. Draco began to worry despite himself, furrowing his brow in confusion.

"Why do you-"

"Does it have to be consumed, Draco?" The sudden use of his name when they were so sure to use surnames- even during the chat about Sirius- took the Slytherin by surprise and he answered automatically.

"Not necessarily. If one wished to truly combine the physicality then I suppose they could be exchanged in the body alone without complete consumption. A cut I suppose... which is why it's important when you're a child not to enter into blood oaths on a whim. Even the pricking of a finger and mixing of blood can mean a contract and exchange." It was only then Draco noticed that Harry was shaking. Against all thought, he stood from his chair and leaned over the bed, placing the book on the small table.

"Harry?" His lip trembled, startled emerald eyes meeting Draco's mercury as realization dawned on the Gryffindor.

"Gods..." Harry threw his torso over the side of the bed opposite the blond and proceeded to vomit. There was nothing in his stomach so the acid burned his esophagus as he wretched. There was a hand on his back, pressure on the bed as weight was redistributed. Tears sprung to Harry's eyes as his body heaved again in a vain attempt to be rid of what had been placed inside too long ago.

Several minutes passed in this fashion before he pulled himself back onto the bed. Falling against the pillows, he felt as though he could fade away. That wouldn't be so bad. Then he wouldn't have to worry about his intimate connection with the Dark Lord. The way the blood had oozed down his throat and smeared across his chest...

There was a hand on his face, thumb stroking smooth circles of calm against his cheeks. Harry opened his eyes slowly only to meet shimmering silver-blue. Draco was so close, now sat on the bed and leaning over Harry to smooth back his hair and brush at the torment that manifested itself in his eyes. No one knew. No one but Dumbledore and that was the way it was supposed to be. But it was eating away at him and now...

"Is it that terrible, Harry?" Draco's voice was smooth but soft. A single tear gathered and gently fell down Harry's cheek. The Slytherin didn't know what Potter truly referred to, instead believing his reaction to deal with their small connection. He thought of how their exchange had come to be... in the infirmary when Draco was sure he was going to die... Draco's mind slowed and backpedaled. He was going to die because of the eternal bloodflow curse which dealt with Voldemort's blood. His mouth fell open slightly as the reality came crashing down around him.

Harry took the hand which had fallen from his face and moved it under his thin shirt onto his bare chest. He guided the slim hand over the upraised flesh which stretched in a jagged, angry line from collarbone to navel. Harry shivered at the touch, unsure whether it had to do with the memories which flooded his senses or the fact that Draco was touching him albeit with instruction.

"Last year when I faced Voldemort he did this to me." Harry's voice was dead, his gaze off in the distance as the memories played through his mind. "I didn't understand why. I had run to Grimmauld Place to help Remus. I was sent a message and I knew it was from Voldemort but I didn't care. Remus was going to die; he didn't expect it and that bitch," His lips twisted in a sneer as the words were growled from Harry's throat, "Bellatrix was performing the Cruciatus on Remus when I arrived." The room grew eerily quiet before Harry focused his gaze on Draco.

"I killed her." Draco's throat caught at the pure malice in the Gryffindor's eyes. He knew about his aunt's death but hadn't known it was Harry that had been the one. There hadn't been a formal funerary procession for Aunt Lestrange because there wasn't enough left of the woman to do so. In all honesty, Draco didn't particularly care about her, but the fact that Harry was the one to send her into oblivion caused a shudder to travel down his spine. The anger in the emerald eyes hazed over with painful nostalgia.

Averting his gaze, Harry continued in a monotone, "He forced blood down my throat and tore into my skin. I think he took mine as well, his lips were stained with blood when his head lifted from my chest. There was more but-" Harry's words were cut off as pink lips pressed fiercely against his own. Harry's eyes widened at the abrupt action. He knew he shouldn't give into the touch. He had pushed Draco away because he was getting too close. Harry knew he needed to keep Draco at a distance if he hoped to save him but somehow the logic was fading from his mind. It had felt so good to talk to the blond about Sirius, not needing to worry about a sympathetic look in those silver eyes. It felt even better to feel the softness against his own mouth, pushing and probing him to stir his emotions into life.

Draco crawled onto the bed until he was straddling Harry's hips. His hand still with Harry's beneath the shirt, he parted their lips with his tongue, delving into the warm passage with purpose. At Harry's words his entire body had flamed with rage. Voldemort had touched Harry. The beast had dared to taste Harry. Voldemort had marred something that was HIS. It didn't matter that at the time Draco and Harry were nothing more than school enemies. It didn't matter that he was to become a Death Eather tomorrow. That was far from his thoughts now, and the only thing on his mind was to mark Harry in every manner possible as his own.

Harry moaned beneath him, aching to be touched. The memories of Voldemort had not been pleasant and he wanted nothing more than Draco to wash them away from his skin. Draco slid his hand down Harry's side and lower still. Harry bucked his hips up against the Slytherin, wishing for more contact between the thin sheet which separated their lower halves. Draco's lips moved down Harry's face to his neck, inevitably finding his sweet spot tucked along the bridge between neck and shoulder. Harry wrapped his hands about Draco's neck to pull the boy closer. The Gryffindor gasped when the soft hand dove beneath the waistband of his pants to grasp his erection. Draco lifted himself off of Harry for leverage, working his hand rhythmically against the boy beneath him.

"Draco..." It was a gasp, the raven haired boy twisting his hands in the silver strands, one sliding down to cup Draco's bum. Their lips met once more as Draco quickened the speed of his hand on Harry. Capturing the swollen lips, they battled with one another in a rush of passion. Harry's hand moved again, tearing at the fly of Draco's pants and grasping the blond in turn. This caused Draco's breath to hitch, his body thrusting into Harry's hand, mimicking his own movement on the boy beneath him.

"You are MINE," Draco growled into Harry's mouth. A pink tongue darted out to trail against the lips which spoke such a proclamation before Harry drew them down against his own again. He bit Draco's lip as he felt the tension in his abdomen grow, his muscles tightening, about to release.

"And you're mine. I don't care. I need you, Draco. I'll protect you. I'll pro-" Harry came, his promises cut off with a muted cry. Draco let himself fall on top of Harry, his breath coming in short gasps as he rode the last waves of his orgasm as well. They remained as such for what seemed forever- Draco lying atop Harry, his arms resting on either side of the boy. Harry's own draped over the blond. Neither wished to speak of the seriousness of their words nor of what had actually been said. It wasn't important right now to either of them.

Draco turned his head, noticing the small potion on the nightstand.

"Do you have to take that?"

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

When Ron and Hermione arrived at breakfast the next day they were surprised to find Harry already at the table, eating a large portion of scrambled eggs as he chatted with Ginny. The couple glanced at one another, unsure of just what exactly was going on. Really, this shouldn't be such an odd scene but Harry hadn't shown up to breakfast for at least a week and wasn't talking to any of them aside from one-syllable answers when prompted.

"Blaise, Ginny? Getting yourself your own Slytherin lover now, eh?"

"Well it seemed to work for you, Harry."

"Wait- Harry, you have a lover?" Harry's head jerked up at the sound of Ron's voice, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks at the insinuation. He turned back to his breakfast as though it were the most interesting thing in the world, shoveling in a large forkful of pancakes and muffling some incomprehensible answer to Ron's inquiry. Luckily, the redhead could only take one mystery at a time, the fact that his best friend was acting as he had two years ago the larger of the two.

"Are you feeling better, Harry?" Emerald eyes beamed back at Hermione, causing the girl to falter at the light that shone in Harry's eyes.

"I'd say so, Hermione. Thanks." The girl's throat choked up as she noticed the light tone of the boy's voice and the faint smile on his face remnant of his old happiness. Whatever happened last night, Hermione was glad it had. The bustle of morning conversation filled the hall as various subjects were talked about- mostly the celebration of Samhain later tonight. Ron chatted animatedly with Harry as though he hadn't seen the boy in years. In a sense, he hadn't. Neither of the two felt the need to explain and probably never would. It wasn't something that was particularly done in their relationship. The only important thing to Ron was that Harry was back to his old self again.

"Are ye' ready for the game t'day, 'Arry?" Seamus' lilting Irish voice rang out amongst the chatter. Harry's eyes flickered over to the Slytherin table to fall on the blond head. It didn't make any sense to Harry why he suddenly felt so much better, but he knew the Slytherin had something to do with it. It was as though just speaking of what happened last year lifted an enormous weight from his chest. Not only that, but the possessive words and heavy snogging helped quite a bit too. For once, it felt good to chat with his friends and to forget about what was inevitably coming. This wasn't to say that Harry was perfectly fine but he was certainly on the way to some sort of normalcy.

"You bet. I'm going to pound Malfoy into the ground." There was a chorus of cheers at Harry's declaration. Mercury eyes looked away from Blaise and across the hall to meet sparkling emerald. A smirk upturned both mouths. Ginny noticed the exchange, nearly choking on her juice as the realization of Harry's words dawned on the startled Gryffindor. Before she could say anything, Hermione leaned closer to Harry.

"Professor Black," Hermione paused after realizing she had said the last man's name which happened to be the same as Sirius'. She wasn't sure exactly how much better Harry was feeling, not wanting to send the boy back into his depression. Harry's smirk melted from his lips and an understanding set in his eyes. At this moment, Harry appeared so much older than he actually was.

"That is his name, Hermione. It's alright." He leaned closer to the Head Girl, his voice lowering. "He's related to Sirius." She knew it! Hermione's eyes lit up as she searched Harry's face for his thoughts. The faintest of smiles- a worn and tired expression that spoke of sorrow which would never fade- crossed Harry's lips and he merely nodded. Harry didn't want the memory of Sirius to fade, nor for it to be tainted with dread if even spoken. His godfather deserved better.

"Professor Black visited you in the infirmary. He seemed dreadfully worried, Harry. You may want to speak with him before the match this afternoon." Tugging on his lower lip with his teeth, Harry took in a deep breath. He knew this was coming. It was inevitable and had to be done; he couldn't just avoid the man. A strange sort of calm settled in his stomach. Harry was tired of the painful agony that went along with his avoidance of Sirius Black, thus Luminos. He nodded and thanked Hermione before excusing himself and leaving the Great Hall.

He needed to speak with their professor.

Just as Harry was rounding the corner leading to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, a slender hand pulled him into a dark corridor. Mouth open in defense, Harry's hand was already moving to his wand when he recognized the long, blond hair and manicured hand which seemed to be recently chewed.

"Pansy?" The girl looked about the corridor and nodded. Removing her hand from Harry's robes, the Slytherin girl crossed her arms over her chest as her eyes sparkled in the dim light. Confusion marring Harry's brow, he was about to speak when she cut him off.

"You're seeing Draco." Harry's eyes widened and he was about to adamantly deny anything when she merely waved her hand dismissively. "I already know, Potter. I don't care what preference you have or anything silly of that sort. Those things don't matter in Slytherin." Harry's confusion only grew. His heart was hammering in his chest despite himself at the thought of he and Draco being TOGETHER. They weren't... were they? No, they only got each other off and shagged at odd hours of the night. Yet he couldn't help the flurry of butterflies when his mind lingered on the idea of them being together, associated as one whole.

"More importantly, today is Samhain." Pansy looked up at Harry expectantly but this only bewildered him further. There was a heavy sigh as though she was talking to a child, and Pansy continued in a slower, overly articulate manner. "Tonight there is going to be a ceremony to determine on which side we all stand. Do you really believe Dumbledore to be the only one savvy to the natural power of Samhain's promises?"

"What are you trying to say, Pansy?" The girl glanced about again, as though waiting for someone to spring forth from the shadows in the hall and attack.

"I'm saying to protect what is yours, Potter." Harry's voice caught in the back of his throat. Pansy's eyes fluttered down, her gaze focusing on the floor as her brow creased. "It's what we all should do."

Before Harry could say anything more, the Slytherin girl slid past him and into the lit corridor.
- 8
- 9
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One That Stood Alone