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The Living Dagger	By : Drarry-Lisa Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 1494 -:- 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. All the characters belong to JK Rowling and her associates

Chapter List
- 1-The Recluse
- 2-Blood
- 1
- 2
Chapter-1
The Recluse
"Where did he go? WHERE DID HE GO?" Draco hears, panting hard. He covers his mouth with his right hand to stifle a moan and braces himself against the wall, breathing heavily through his nose. Blood trickles down his cheeks from the gashes on his forehead and nose. His left leg is so wounded that he can barely walk and his head is pounding. His hands are trembling so much that he doesn't know how he will defend himself, if they attack him. They have snapped his wand and he has no strength to fight them physically.
"Shhhh. Don't shout." The voice belongs to Weasley. They are in their late thirties and one would think that Weasley would finally bury the hatchet but one would be wrong because Weasley will continue despising Draco even after he dies.
"But lord Burbage said-" Corner murmurs and Draco wants to slap his face hard. He resists the urge though because it won't do him any good to confront them when he is so injured.
"Lord Burbage didn't want us to disturb the muggles living here." Weasley declares roughly and Draco rolls his eyes and even that slight movement is painful. His eyes are burning. He really needs to sleep.
Lord Burbage this. Lord Burbage that. It's nauseating and slightly terrifying to hear someone being addressed as 'lord' yet again after decades. He has half a mind to go and shake the red-headed man's shoulders.
"You know how he gets when he is angry, Ron. We can't loose Malfoy. He wants Malfoy to be an example for-"
"Shhhhh. Are you off your rocker? We can't tell anyone about it. He trusted us with the information. Shut up and keep searching. He is injured and should be somewhere close by." Weasley growls.
Draco's eyes narrow and he takes a deep breath. He can't apparate without his wand and he doesn't know where he is. The supposed secret that Weasley is talking about doesn't escape his notice. He stores it for later consideration. What is Burbage hiding?
"Where are we?" Corner asks Weasley.
"We're in muggle Britain."
"It's quite secluded, eh?" Corner murmurs.
Weasley grunts in reply, "Yeah. It's pretty quiet and secluded."
Draco holds his breath, knowing that they're at a distance of only two feet. Any moment, they will turn around the corner and find him and then they will either kill him or take him to Burbage.
He closes his eyes. Sweat trickles down his cheeks and mingles with his blood, some of which trickles inside his mouth. The coppery taste urges him to spit it out but he can barely move as it is. His heart is literally pounding. It's dark and cloudy and he's sure it will start raining soon. It's quite chilly and he is so cold that he has to literally bite his index finger to prevent them from chartering.
"Where-"
Draco is unable to hear anything else because very suddenly the wall rotates and a second later he finds himself in a large room. His stunned eyes take in his surroundings. The room is large and is filled with beautiful wooden and glass furniture of several shapes and sizes. Some pieces are complete and some are only partially ready. It's dimply lit and there's a fireplace on the left hand side of the room. Draco breathes hard, trying to understand what just happened.
He closes his eyes and wonders if he is hallucinating.
"Malfoy." A blank voice calls him and turns Draco's world upside down because the voice belongs to Harry sodding Potter who's supposed to be dead. He doesn't know what actually happened. Unlike Draco, Potter became an auror straight after graduating. Everyone was very tight-lipped and even Skeeter didn't publish anything useful. All that the general population including Draco knew was that Potter had lost control over his magic during an assignment and had blown an entire village. It was a small village but the explosion had led to deaths of several muggles and had gravely injured many others. Somehow, his partner had escaped unscathed. Draco doesn't remember who Potter's partner was. Consequently, Potter's wand was snapped and he was banished from wizarding world. It had happened a decade ago.
Then five years ago, the prophet covered news about Potter's death. The photos of his dead body were all over the newspaper. Unlike what Draco had expected, the wizarding world had celebrated the untimely death of their fallen hero. It was like the entire world breathed a collective sigh of relief when they realized that someone as powerful as Harry Potter was dead and that they would never have to face another power akin to Lord Voldemort again.
Shock of seeing the man in flesh after ten years renders Draco utterly speechless. His jaw drops open and his eyes widen and he literally has to brace himself against the wall so that he doesn't fall down. He closes his eyes and rubs them with his palms. Some stupid part of his brain still believes that this is all an elaborate dream, that a twenty seven year old alive Harry sodding Potter isn't sitting in front of him, on crossed legs, his muscled arms straight and his hands resting on his knees. Draco's eyes flicker from his strong thighs to his flat stomach to his broad chest to his rectangle glasses. He is dressed in black pajamas and a cream shirt.
He's no longer the scrawny teenager Draco had studied with. He has broad shoulders and a lean but muscled frame. His still frame emanates power, both physical and magical as well as danger. His skin is healthy and his lips are full and red. His hair is still as atrocious as ever.
His eyes- Draco blinks when he stares into those green eyes. Draco remembers that Potter's eyes used to be the most captivating feature of his idiotic self. But now, those eyes are emotionless and face is utterly blank.
"Potter, you're supposed to be dead." Draco's mouth seems to have a mind of its own.
Potter stay silent and his eyes stay annoyingly blank.
"Go and lay down in the guest-room." Potter replies and returns to whatever he was doing. Draco purses his lips and regards him. It seems that he's making a small square shaped table. However, he has no muggle tools except for a few screws and screwdrivers and a tube of something. Maybe it's some kind of glue. His palm is currently placed on the corner of the wooden table where the ends are glued together. He is stroking it. Draco's eyes widen in disbelief.
"Potter." Draco repeats, "Are you using magic?"
Everything is ridiculous. Potter is supposed to be dead but he's alive. His wand was snapped and he's still doing magic. The sheer absurdity of the situation leads Draco to believe that he's dreaming and everything will simply be gone when he would wake up. He'll probably find himself in a holding cell with handcuffs around his hands and dementors as his guards.
"Potter." Draco mutters impatiently but Potter refuses to answer so Draco does as he's told. He starts limping out of the room, feigning a moan as he walks. Potter doesn't care. Draco's annoyed eyes linger on Potter's broad shoulders and strong frame and he huffs petulantly before leaving Potter be. It's not like Potter to not care. Maybe Draco is just imagining all this.
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The Living Dagger