Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

For All To See	By : Fenryn Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 4083 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-For All To See
- 2-Not Something You See Everyday
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- 2
Cold stone surrounded him, stale air burned his lungs, and he was numb. Draco Malfoy stared down at the men and women assembled in front of him, each naked, prostrated, and hogtied. Their pleading faces were twisted with fear, their eyes glistening and their mouths struggling to cry out. They were frozen, however.   Magic so foul it oozed like a viscous heat shimmer from their exposed flesh. The ropes were just for show, really. They were kept immobile and silent from the vast array of spells that the other Death Eaters had cast upon them only moments ago.
That’s right, the other Death Eaters. Black cloaks and silver masks, a perfect metaphor for their personalities. Even without the costumes, they still hid behind masks, carefully disguising their fear with muted indifference and vicious superiority. Overcompensation in an attempt to hide the only truth of their existence: they were cowards. Naturally, cowards were drawn to power – hoping it would protect them. It took real courage to stand in the light, where everyone can see you, weaknesses and all. It was easier to skulk in the dark, hiding until ready to strike. In that respect, the Dark Lord was the biggest coward of them all.

Draco was no exception. He knew he was a coward. It was funny, since the bloody sorting hat had tried to make a case for his courage. “Could do well in Gryffindor,” it said, a smile in its voice. “Maybe not at first, but eventually…”
His father would have had none of that, however. A swift kick in the arse and a nice beating would’ve been Draco’s rewards if he had acquiesced to the hat’s request.   He could see it now, pale aristocratic skin all black and blue. It would’ve clashed with his red and gold tie, you see.
Draco was brought out of his reverie by the hissing of his new, “master.”
“My dear boy,” purred Voldemort, his red eyes glowing in the darkness. “Now is the time to show us your dedication.”
The blonde raised an eyebrow, sneering down at the assorted muggles. It was an act, but it had to be played perfectly. “Very well, my lord,” he said, sliding his vision along the line of men and women. It wouldn’t do to choose one too soon. “Would you have me Crucio one of the pathetic vermin, or would you prefer something more…” a dramatic pause, perfectly placed. Draco looked up at the Dark Lord with mild reverence, attempting to come off as loyal, yet independent.   “…visual…?”
He knew Voldemort was a bit squeamish, ironically enough. Too much blood offended his delicate sensibilities. A Crucio would do… it always did.

Voldemort was a step ahead of him this time, however. “No, my dear Draco…” He caressed the blonde boy’s cheek slowly, almost sensually.     “I think the killing curse will do just fine.”
Draco Malfoy froze.   He had never killed anyone before, and he had no interest in changing that anytime soon.
He quickly regained his composure, silently thanking Merlin for the silver mask hiding his conflicted features. “As you wish, my Lord,” he said softly, bowing ever-so-slightly. “Shall I choose, or…?”
Sharp, mocking laughter rang out in the spacious stone room, and Draco felt it biting at his heart. “My dear, sweet Draco,” hissed Voldemort, turning towards the two elder Malfoys at the other end of the room. “You are so much like your father…”
It was Lucius’ turn to receive Voldemort’s disgusting caress, but to his credit he didn’t flinch.
“No, Draco,” smiled Voldemort, returning his attention to the teenager. “This is to celebrate your sixteenth birthday! You did turn sixteen last June, didn’t you?” He waved his hand at the line of muggles, his tongue darting out to taste the tense atmosphere. “There are sixteen lambs here…”
Draco paled, if that were possible. His hands began to shake, and his eyes darted back and forth. He couldn’t be serious, could he? It was some sort of trick, some kind of test. All he had to do was say yes and he would be stopped at the last second.
Somehow, Draco doubted it.
“As you wish, my Lord,” said Draco. He reached up, removed his silver mask, letting it drop to the floor with a clang. If he was going to do this, if he was going to face this task, he was going to do it as Draco bloody Malfoy, not as Death Eater number seventeen. Raising his wand, he gazed out at the frightened faces, and he could see himself in each one.
He looked up, gazing into the holes of his father’s mask, trying to dig out the eyes inside. He never broke that gaze, even as he pointed his wand at the first victim. HIS first victim.
“Avada Kedavra,” he shouted, green light spilling from his wand. The first corpse sunk to the ground, no longer held by life or magic. “Avada Kedavra,” again he shouted, again a fallen corpse. “Avada Kedavra, Avada Kedavra, AVADA KEDAVRA!”
His heart ached, his soul blazed, and his mind seared with guilt and anguish. “AVADA KEDAVRA! AVADA KEDAVRA!” He poured all of his sorrow into the spells, tears falling and splattering against the cold floor.
He repeated the process, crying out each time, until finally the last corpse fell. He dropped to his knees, sobbing. He didn’t care anymore. He didn’t care if the rest of the Death Eaters heard him weep. He didn’t care if the Dark Lord himself heard it. He wouldn’t restrain it.
“Good, Draco…” purred Voldemort, banishing the bodies of the dead muggles. “That pain you feel, that anguish. It is your humanity dying.   Now your transformation is complete. Now you are a Death Eater.”
Draco wept, still. He kept weeping until he was alone… and then he wept some more.
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Harry Potter woke with a start, his green eyes wide, tears streaking down his face. What the bastard had shown him… was too disgusting for words. To force another human being to murder another – let alone seventeen… to forcibly tear apart a person’s soul...
Harry tripped out of his bed and ran to the bathroom, dry heaving into the toilet.
“Is that you, boy?!” shouted his uncle, banging on the bathroom door. “You better not be sick! If you’re spreading some sort of… disease, in this house, you will be sorry!”
Harry rolled his eyes. After another dry heave, he flushed the empty toilet bowl. “Thanks for that, Vernon,” he said, trudging back to his room. “My self-esteem needed that lovely kick in the arse.”
It’s good to be loved, thought Harry, slipping a treat into Hedwig’s cage gingerly. She took it eagerly, hooting her appreciation as it crunched between her beak.
Harry smiled thoughtfully. “Not sure what I’d ever do without you, girl.”
In the aftermath of Sirius’ death, Harry had been dealing with quite a bit of depression. Voldemort’s nightly terrors, while obviously sent to demoralize him, actually served to lift his spirits. No matter how bad things seemed in his life, he still had things to hold onto. Voldemort, and his vast army of Death Eaters, didn’t have anything but their fear.
Harry was actually quite lucky, all things considered.
Stepping up to the calendar on his wall, Harry smiled brightly. Today was the day. The two months of summer holiday had flown by, and now, on September 1^st, he’d be heading back to Hogwarts.
He punched the air and whooped, doing very gay twirl, and then coughed. Glancing over at Hedwig, he pointed a finger at her. “You saw nothing.”
Hedwig simply hooted, amusement shining in her eyes.
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Draco stood, leaning against a pillar at Platform 9 ¾, and watched as the young children were ushered onto the train by their parents.
It felt like a lifetime ago, now. He remembered when his parents had done the exact same thing, albeit with more aloof detachment than these families. His parents weren’t cold back then, just… guarded.
Now, it was entirely different. Lucius looked dead inside, feeling as if he’d betrayed his own family in his endless pursuit to keep them safe. Narcissa refused to even join them at the platform, having long since sequestered herself inside the depths of Malfoy Manor.
His parents acted as if they were the ones forced to murder sixteen innocent human beings. Everything those people were, everything they were going to be, and Draco erased it all. Muggles, Wizards, Squibs – who the bloody hell cared, anymore. A life was a life, regardless of blood status or magical ability.
Draco wished he had realized that sooner. He wished he could rewind, back to when he was a child, back to when he met Potter in Madam Malkin’s all those years ago.
Shame there weren’t any time turners left.
Speaking of Harry Potter, the crazy haired youth had just stepped through the platform entrance, his bright green eyes piercing through Draco’s fog.
Hopefully he wouldn’t get in the way this year.
Draco had a mission, after all. He needed to get the Death Eaters into Hogwarts, then deal with the foolish Headmaster.
Nothing was going to stop him from that goal.
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Harry found Ron and Hermione in their usual compartment. They were arguing about something or other, he wasn’t quite sure. Whatever it was, it left Hermione pretty flustered.
“You are so immature, Ronald!” she shouted, standing up with a huff. She went to leave the compartment when she spotted the black haired boy standing in the doorway. “Harry!”
Harry quickly found himself full of bushy haired brunette as Hermione crushed his lungs in a massive hug. “Hello to you too, ‘Mione,” he groaned out.
Ron was still a little upset, apparently, because the first words out of his mouth were, “Mate, would you please tell Hermione she’s being mental!”
Harry finally managed to extract himself from Hermione’s hug, and looked at Ron in confusion. “What are you on about?”
Blowing a bushel of hair out of her eyes, Hermione rounded on Ron, hands on her hips. “Ronald here is under the impression that Gryffindors cannot date Slytherins.”
Harry’s mind reeled. “Hold on,” he said, looking back and forth between the two. “Who’s dating who, now?”
Ron threw his arms wide. “Didn’t you see it on your way in?! Neville and Zabini snoggin’ in the third compartment!” The look on the redhead’s face made it apparent that he did not approve.
“But…” mumbled Harry, looking up in thought. “Neville and Zabini are both blokes.”
Now Ron was the one looking at Harry is confusion. “Um… Yeah, Harry, they’re poofs.”
“Ron!” shouted Hermione, face turning red in a fair approximation of a Weasley. “That’s an incredible insensitive name to call a homosexual!”
Harry shrugged, sitting down across from Ron. “Well, the Dursley’s say that gay people are disgusting, unnatural freaks.” There was a pause as he let out a sigh. “That being said, they call Wizards the same thing, so as far as I’m concerned there’s nothing wrong with homosexuals.”
Hermione smiled, sitting down next to Harry. She stuck her tongue out at Ron, clearly feeling as if she’d won the argument.
Ron just shook his head. “Harry, mate, that’s not the issue. Wizards don’t care if you’re bent, only muggles do. The problem is that Neville is having it off with Blaise Zabini, a Slytherin!”
Again, Harry simply shrugged. “I really don’t see the problem.”
“Merlin, I don’t believe you two!” sighed Ron, sounding exhausted. “Nutters, the both of you…”
Harry smiled, turning to look out the window. He could see Hogwarts cresting the next rise, and he felt a kind of warmth from the sight.
“Almost home…”
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A/N: Hey guys, I wanted to get more done today, but unfortunately I've run out of time. It's been a while since I wrote Harry Potter fanfiction. Hope I did alright so far.
Anyways, please read and review!
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For All To See