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Rursus in Aetas	By : Alucinor Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 4195 -:- 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
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AN: I don't know where this story came from...but I have big plans for it...I know I should be working on Sketching...but this little bunny really wanted out...A few warnings before hand...HBP never happened for this story...this first chapter will explain what ended up happening in Harry's 6th year...bare with me for the pairing...you won't really get a taste of that until further into the story

Chapter One

Through the haze in his mind, Harry
glared at the luminescent numbers displayed before him. Silently he watched as
his birthday came and went without as much as a card or greeting. He sighed and
rolled onto his back, blinking back exhaustion. He couldn�t sleep. Sleeping
meant he was powerless; powerless to stop the nightmares that seemed so real
and those that might actually have been.

Dully he noted the many patterns
cast upon the ceiling from the grounds below. He could hear his uncle snoring
repugnantly through the thin walls and wondered what horrible things the bawdy
man had planed for him that day. He blinked a few more times, drifting in and
out of sleep, and then turned his head to the side, squinting into the dark.
Blurry, red, numbers glared back at him; 1:30 AM.
He had fallen asleep for an hour and, in that time, not a single vision had
haunted him. He frowned and leaned back with a sigh, hoping the dreams would be
abated, at least for a short time.

* * *

Darkness. He could feel it deep within every orifice of his body. Caressing,
cocooning, consuming. It was a void; a bitter cold that burned like a thousand
suns.

He
took a few blind steps forward, and then faltered, the ground seeming to move
underneath him. He shook the feeling off, perceiving it as his imagination. He
was merely disoriented from the cold and dark environment surrounding him.

He
took several more steps before an intense pain shot through his body. Like
daggers shooting down his form in waves, tearing feverishly at his skin. It
carried on; an endless wave of torture. The sound of cruel laughter rang
deafeningly in his ears...

Potter...Potter...

* * *

�Potter, get up this instant, you
lazy boy!� Harry jolted awake with a start. The pain radiating through his head
dulled to a faint throb and with a small groan he forced his body into a
sitting position. The entire length of his entity ached with the pain he
associated as the �after effects� of his nightly hauntings.

�Potter, if
you�re not down here in two minutes, I swear on your mother�s grave that you
will never see the light of day again!� The deep bellow of his surly Uncle
spurred him into action. Shifting his body, he hastily swung his legs over the
side of the bed, hissing at the sudden pain in his lower back. Doing his best
to ignore the distressful state of his body, Harry dressed quickly and began
the slow, painful descent down the stairs.

The stressful
dreams were quickly turning into a nightly routine as his summer progressed. At
first, he�d assumed Voldemort was merely angry a plan
had backfired or had gone awry in some way. After several weeks of awakening to
pains and muscle cramps, Harry was no longer so sure. It wouldn�t have been so
horrible if the ache of his nightmares were all he had to endure. Regrettably,
his family had been more then happy to add insult to injury.

Aunt
Petunia had taken it upon herself to make Harry�s days at Privet
Drive a living hell. As a result of his dreams,
the daily choirs and the rigorous gardening, Harry was utterly drained. Almost
as if the two had made an agreement, Uncle Vernon became the ultimate insult; quite
literally. Between the demeaning insults directed at his parents and those
directed at his own intellect and �lack� of gratitude, Harry was gradually becoming
more depressed and equally livid with his current living conditions.

Sadly, Harry
had an entire month left before he could finally go home; home, of course,
meaning Hogwarts. At the rate things were going, however, he wasn�t entirely
sure he could last that long before he completely snapped; both in the actual
sense and in the physical.

�Boy!�
Harry flinched at his Uncle�s rude greeting. �You should have been down here
making breakfast hours ago! Don�t think that you can slack off just because
it�s your birthday!� Harry evaded his cousin�s massive leg as the much larger
boy attempted to trip him. Unfortunately, this left him completely distracted.
Taking it as an open invitation, his Uncle harshly cuffed the back of Harry�s
head as he trudged to the stove.

�Get to
work now, Boy! My Dudders needs his nutrients.� Harry
suppressed a snort and began making his abhorrent family their morning meal.
That boy needed nutrients like Hermione needed a second brain. His head began
throbbing with an oncoming migraine. Harry couldn�t decide if his earlier dream
had caused it or his Uncles more recent antics.

That
morning went by just as any other day and Harry soon found himself out in the
garden. For the most part, gardening was becoming the only part of his daily
routine he actually found comfort in. It was the only time he was allowed
outside and the sun felt wonderful on his aching muscles. However, because
Harry tended the garden on a daily basis, the plants were in an immaculate
condition. Normally this would be seen as a blessing, but Harry saw it as a
curse as it limited his time outdoors greatly. It wasn�t long before the
gardening was complete, despite his best efforts to work slowly.

Harry
sighed and mechanically rubbed the sweat off his brow with the back of one
soiled hand. It took him a moment to realize his mistake and he groaned in
exasperation. He could only hope his Aunt was feeling generous seeing as it was his seventeenth birthday. Dusting
his hands off as best as he could; Harry slowly stood up. The movement caused a
sharp pain to shoot up his spine and he paused for a moment, waiting out the
sensation. Only seventeen years old and I
already feel like an old man. Harry
let out a dry laugh and slowly made his way back to the house.

A loud
rumble served to remind him that he hadn�t eaten all day. Reaching the back
door, he automatically took his shoes off, setting them to the side. It was a
rule he had made for himself, knowing full well the consequences of dragging
mud through the house. He�d only made that mistake once that summer and he had
the scar to prove it.

�Boy,� His
Aunt addressed him indifferently from her place at the kitchen table. �Go
shower, quickly. I expect you down here in twenty minutes to make dinner.� She
didn�t spare him a second glance and Harry promptly made his way upstairs. If
there was one thing Harry had immediately discerned that summer, it was his
Aunt�s newfound attitude toward her malnourished nephew. For the most part, she
was completely unemotional toward him; lacking both in concern as well as
anger. Sometimes, Harry actually wished she would show something other than
apathy. At times it was rather discerning. He would rather have had her
screaming at him in anger then the cold calculated reprimands he received
instead.

Harry
quickly grabbed one of his many oversized hand-me-down outfits and made his way
to the bathroom. He shut the door, turning the lock with a sigh and tossing his
new clothes onto the sink. He paused in front of the mirror only for a moment;
just a glimpse at his reflection was too much lately. Cold, empty green eyes
stared back at him out of a far too pale face. Even his hair seemed lifeless to
him, now grown slightly past his chin. Harry turned away from the image with a
frown. At times, it was hard for him to see his father in that mirror as
everyone else did. He was too tired, too worn to be the son of a man that had formerly
been so exuberant and lively; and at times, so very childish. It was hard for
Harry to consider what being a child even meant now.

He took his
shower hastily, dressed and made his way back downstairs to the kitchen.
Absently, he began cooking dinner on auto pilot. He was now determined to
ignore his calculating mind and try to enjoy what was left of his birthday. So
far, he had done well in keeping his mind off the war and the safety issues of
the wizarding world. He could deal with that once
Hogwarts was back in session and he had no doubt it would be Dumbledore�s first
order of business. He stopped his movements in an almost jerky fashion and the
pan he had been holding clattered noisily to the ground splashing its contents
all over the linoleum floor. Dumbledore...oh, my god.
His hands shook uncontrollably as he finally processed the tragedy that had
befallen Hogwarts just a few months ago...

The students and faculty had been in
the middle of the going away feast. They were celebrating the Gryffindor house
once again winning the house cup; much to the Slytherin�s dismay. Students
chatted blissfully about what their summer vacations had in store for them.
Seventh years said goodbye to the few younger classmates they had befriended.
Promises were made to stay in touch; numbers and addresses exchanged. And then,
in an instant, their world was shattered by pandemonium.

The hall doors burst open, emitting
a storm of hooded figures; Deatheaters. Amidst the screaming and shouted
curses, the students could vaguely hear their Headmaster, ordering them to get
out of the building as fast as they could. Aurors
began to apparate into the frenzied scene. The
teachers would later realize the wards must have been destroyed before the
Deatheaters had even gotten there.

Harry fought his way through the
devastation. Somehow, he knew he had to reach Dumbledore; something didn�t feel
right. The flash of curses flying overhead disoriented him and he had only a
moment of thought before an overwhelming pain took hold of his body. When the
curse was finally lifted, he cried out in relief. Suddenly, he was yanked to
his feet and propelled toward the teachers table. He spotted Dumbledore almost instantly,
throwing hexes at a group of hooded figures. He scrambled to reach his mentor
but the arm that had helped him up was now pulling him towards a door, hidden
behind the head table.

�No, wait!� Harry tried to pull free
of the Auror�s iron grip. He watched in horror as
Dumbledore was struck by several different spells. �We have to help him!� He
cried in exasperation. Dumbledore was hurt. Why wasn�t anyone helping him? The
man�s deep voice pierced through the chaos.

�It�s too late! We need to get you
to safety without delay!� Harry was dumbfounded. This couldn�t be happening. He
yanked his arm free and made a dash towards Dumbledore, his wand already drawn,
a spell already prepared...before it slowly died on his tongue.

The room seemed to stop for Harry as
his knees gave out from beneath him. A bright green light flashed before his
eyes hitting Dumbledore square in the chest. Harry�s breathe left him in a rush
as Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard that had ever lived, was tossed
through the air effortlessly. He landed in a heap several yards away, unmoving...Harry
remembered hearing screams and shouts before the darkness completely consumed
him.

Harry moaned
and blinked several times as he tried to process what had happened. He was
lying in his bed. It was bright outside. Vaguely, he noted he was extremely
hungry. Finally, the memories flooded his mind once more and he let out a shaky
breathe. Dumbledore was dead. He had witnessed it with his own eyes but hadn�t
ever really come to terms with it. For almost a month, he had been in denial,
blocking the events completely from his memory. And now, the barriers that had
been protecting him had burst, flooding him with the guilt and pain.

He
shuddered and attempted to sit up. His vision swam before him and he fell back
into the mattress with a muffled whimper. Even that little movement was too
much exertion for him it seemed as he struggled to get his breathing pattern
back to normal. He closed his eyes once more and drifted slightly in and out of
conscious. A loud crack brought him back into the waking world and he blurrily
opened his eyes once more.

Hazily, he
recognized Aunt Petunia as she set a bowl on the side table before heading for
the door. Harry fought to sit up and managed to croak out in a weak voice.

�Wait...�
She stopped and turned toward him. As if sensing his questions she spoke in her
callous, deliberate way.

�You�ve
been unconscious for two days now. You need to eat. There�s soup on your
table.� She turned around once again and shut the door behind her. Harry was
only slightly surprised when he heard the locks click in place.

The rest of
August went by slowly for Harry. He was allowed out of his room to use the bathroom
but was otherwise confined to the small space. He was fed a bowl of soup
everyday which was more then enough for his underfed body; his appetite was
virtually non-existent now. Uncle Vernon
had harshly explained that he wouldn�t allow such a freak anywhere near the
rest of his house after the incident in the kitchen. From what Harry
understood, not only had he ruined the flooring with the hot water but he had
apparently caused the stove to explode before he collapsed.

September
first came around, at long last. It didn�t take Harry long to pack his things
that morning. He was desperate to get away from the imprisoning room. He sat at
the edge of his bed, praying his family had actually remembered what day it
was. He looked up as the locks on his door clicked open. It swung open,
revealing his Aunt; her expression veiled and distant.

�Your train
leaves soon.� She stated in a clipped tone. It wasn�t a question but Harry
nodded nevertheless. �Get your things and meet me at the car. Be quick about
it. I don�t have all day.� Her lips curled slightly in distaste and she walked
away. Harry shook his head slightly to clear his thoughts. Grabbing his things,
he made his way down the stairs. The ache in his body dulled to a slight throb
as he settled his things in the back seat. He collapsed into the space beside
his trunk and shut the door with a sigh as his Aunt started the car up. He
wondered briefly what his Uncle was doing; silently thanking whatever god there
was that his Aunt was the one driving him to the station.
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