So Sure Of Death
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
5
Views:
1,898
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
5
Views:
1,898
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
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.
So Sure Of Death
Fic title: So Sure of Death
Penname: DBZVegeta
Summary: Draco provides Harry with the final piece of the puzzle to help him defeat Voldemort. Will the war be over soon and will their love be able to continue?
Sequel to: Playing With Fire
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
# of Chapters: 1 of #
Word Count: 1,238
Category: Romance / Angst
Beta: FaireWeather
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
So Sure of Death
Chapter 1
~*~
A worn, crumpled much-read slip of paper lay in the slack grip of the messy-haired young man currently sleeping in his lonely bed at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. A sigh and a shift caused his hand to grip lovingly about the paper, as he rolled over and brought his arm to his chest. Eyes blinked blearily as sunlight began to filter into the ever-lightening room, slicing a path across the bed. A soft mumble rose from him as he closed his eyes against the intruding brightness.
Another long night spent pouring over parchments, another day in the cold silent tomb that he called his home. Since the night that he had returned from meeting Draco and had demanded that the Order find new residence, the house had taken on a quiet so profound that you could, at times, almost hear a pin drop. Even Mrs. Black’s picture was strangely quiet now that there were no longer invaders in her domain.
Ron and Hermione had moved back into their own home, after the birth of their new daughter. A brown-haired child with bright blue eyes that they had named Remmy, after Remus who had taken his life to follow his true love into the afterlife.
Of course, this had all happened nearly three months ago. It had been three long months since that night, three long months of sheer torture for Harry. Draco had only been able to pass along small messages, so infrequently that Harry had almost lost hope that what had happened that night truly had happened.
Sighing heavily, Harry rolled upwards and automatically reached blindly for his glasses, forgetting that he had his sight corrected some time ago. The blurring that he saw was not from uncorrected eyesight, but something else. He reached a hand up to his face and felt the moisture that had accumulated there sometime during the night.
‘Shit, not again,’ he thought, wiping a hand across his face to remove the moisture. Another night that he had cried in his sleep without even knowing it. When was this all going to stop?
Swinging his legs from the bed, he walked slowly towards his dresser and pulled out a fresh pair of boxers, jeans and a long sleeve dark blue tee-shirt. Dressing quickly, he balled up his boxers from the night before and tossed them into the quickly accumulating pile of clothing in the corner. Another thought crossed his mind as he looked at the large pile. ‘Laundry,’ he thought, ‘and soon.’ Shaking his head with the thoughts of that chore later, he opened the door to his room and padded softly down the hallway to the stairway. Looking down over the empty foyer and great room, he sighed again as he stumbled slightly down the stairs. One hand on the railing kept him from tumbling to the bottom.
Tired resolved filled his being as he pushed open the door to the kitchen and took in the scattered mess. Books, scrolls of parchment, several half-chewed quills, a bottle of ink on its side, dirty dishes and glasses covered the dining table that could have easily seat ten people.
He brought one hand up to rub tiredly at his forehead before dropping it and pushing up the sleeves of his shirt. Quickly he began to gather up the dirty dishware, dropping them into the sink, which he charmed to start cleaning. As the sound of running water and clanking plates began to fill the room, he turned back to the stack of books and parchment. Sifting though the pile, he sorted the books that he had deemed of no use to one side and the others with some use to another. Once finished he picked up the arm full of no longer needed book and carried them to the library. Dumping them on the desk, he quickly shoved them back onto shelves, not caring in which order they went. He smiled, as he knew that the next time Hermione was over that she would berate him for his sloppy shelving of the books.
He could almost hear her know, ‘Everything belongs in its proper place, or we can never find them when we need them.’
He snorted to himself as he placed the last book and turned back to the kitchen. The charm had worked and all the dishes were done and stack neatly beside the kitchen sink. He moved them to their proper homes and set about piling the rest of the parchments in order of use. Once completed, he set back and surveyed the room.
‘Much better,’ he thought, as he stomach finally decided that it had enough work and wanted food this instant. Rubbing a hand across his growling stomach, he turned and opened the fridge to find that all he had was a withered and slightly green apple, and an open bottle of beer.
“Uugh,” he groaned aloud. The downside of having kicked the Order out from his house was that Mrs. Weasley was no longer around to ensure that the kitchen was fully stocked. And that meant that he needed to take a trip to the grocery store for supplies, which in turn meant a trip to Diagon Alley and Gringotts for money. Well he could just Floo into The Leaky Cauldron and go from there.
Closing the door to the fridge, he ignored his rumbling stomach and went into the main living room. He was just reaching for the jar of Floo powder, when the fire blinked green and a face appear hovering in the flames. Harry groaned at the sight of the face, his own face turning stern and discouraging.
“Ah, Harry…perfect timing. I was wondering if you could come to Hogwarts this afternoon. I feel that you will want to be here for a meeting that we are having.” Albus Dumbledore, bane of Harry’s existence and the most meddlesome wizard ever know to grace the earth, said as his eyes twinkled with unconcealed humor.
“And pray tell why would I want to inflict myself with your presence,” Harry growled, not one bit amused by the request.
“That Harry, is the question…however this meeting should prove to be, what shall I say…very beneficial to yourself,” Albus quickly replied, seeing the distrust coloring Harry’s expression.
“Probably as beneficial as a root canal,” Harry murmured, ignoring Albus’ twinkling eyes and raised eyebrow. “What time?”
“Very good, my boy,” Albus said, disregarding Harry’s growl, “If you could be in my office by two this afternoon, that shall give us plenty of time to catch up prior to the meeting. I shall see you soon, Harry.” With that last word, Albus’ face disappeared from the fire, which sparked and crackled back to its original gold and red colors.
Harry sighed heavily, one hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose as he felt a headache begin to well behind his eyes. Only Dumbledore could do this to him, pop in unexpectedly and drop a bombshell and leave just as quick without any answers.
It wasn’t bad enough that the wizard still tried to treat him like a child, keeping secrets and such, but it was the way that he masterfully manipulated each situation to dictate his needs no matter the outcome.
Harry sighed, dropping his hand back to the jar of Floo powder, just praying that this time he wasn’t going to be talked into something that he may later regret.
~TBC~
Penname: DBZVegeta
Summary: Draco provides Harry with the final piece of the puzzle to help him defeat Voldemort. Will the war be over soon and will their love be able to continue?
Sequel to: Playing With Fire
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
# of Chapters: 1 of #
Word Count: 1,238
Category: Romance / Angst
Beta: FaireWeather
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
So Sure of Death
Chapter 1
~*~
A worn, crumpled much-read slip of paper lay in the slack grip of the messy-haired young man currently sleeping in his lonely bed at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. A sigh and a shift caused his hand to grip lovingly about the paper, as he rolled over and brought his arm to his chest. Eyes blinked blearily as sunlight began to filter into the ever-lightening room, slicing a path across the bed. A soft mumble rose from him as he closed his eyes against the intruding brightness.
Another long night spent pouring over parchments, another day in the cold silent tomb that he called his home. Since the night that he had returned from meeting Draco and had demanded that the Order find new residence, the house had taken on a quiet so profound that you could, at times, almost hear a pin drop. Even Mrs. Black’s picture was strangely quiet now that there were no longer invaders in her domain.
Ron and Hermione had moved back into their own home, after the birth of their new daughter. A brown-haired child with bright blue eyes that they had named Remmy, after Remus who had taken his life to follow his true love into the afterlife.
Of course, this had all happened nearly three months ago. It had been three long months since that night, three long months of sheer torture for Harry. Draco had only been able to pass along small messages, so infrequently that Harry had almost lost hope that what had happened that night truly had happened.
Sighing heavily, Harry rolled upwards and automatically reached blindly for his glasses, forgetting that he had his sight corrected some time ago. The blurring that he saw was not from uncorrected eyesight, but something else. He reached a hand up to his face and felt the moisture that had accumulated there sometime during the night.
‘Shit, not again,’ he thought, wiping a hand across his face to remove the moisture. Another night that he had cried in his sleep without even knowing it. When was this all going to stop?
Swinging his legs from the bed, he walked slowly towards his dresser and pulled out a fresh pair of boxers, jeans and a long sleeve dark blue tee-shirt. Dressing quickly, he balled up his boxers from the night before and tossed them into the quickly accumulating pile of clothing in the corner. Another thought crossed his mind as he looked at the large pile. ‘Laundry,’ he thought, ‘and soon.’ Shaking his head with the thoughts of that chore later, he opened the door to his room and padded softly down the hallway to the stairway. Looking down over the empty foyer and great room, he sighed again as he stumbled slightly down the stairs. One hand on the railing kept him from tumbling to the bottom.
Tired resolved filled his being as he pushed open the door to the kitchen and took in the scattered mess. Books, scrolls of parchment, several half-chewed quills, a bottle of ink on its side, dirty dishes and glasses covered the dining table that could have easily seat ten people.
He brought one hand up to rub tiredly at his forehead before dropping it and pushing up the sleeves of his shirt. Quickly he began to gather up the dirty dishware, dropping them into the sink, which he charmed to start cleaning. As the sound of running water and clanking plates began to fill the room, he turned back to the stack of books and parchment. Sifting though the pile, he sorted the books that he had deemed of no use to one side and the others with some use to another. Once finished he picked up the arm full of no longer needed book and carried them to the library. Dumping them on the desk, he quickly shoved them back onto shelves, not caring in which order they went. He smiled, as he knew that the next time Hermione was over that she would berate him for his sloppy shelving of the books.
He could almost hear her know, ‘Everything belongs in its proper place, or we can never find them when we need them.’
He snorted to himself as he placed the last book and turned back to the kitchen. The charm had worked and all the dishes were done and stack neatly beside the kitchen sink. He moved them to their proper homes and set about piling the rest of the parchments in order of use. Once completed, he set back and surveyed the room.
‘Much better,’ he thought, as he stomach finally decided that it had enough work and wanted food this instant. Rubbing a hand across his growling stomach, he turned and opened the fridge to find that all he had was a withered and slightly green apple, and an open bottle of beer.
“Uugh,” he groaned aloud. The downside of having kicked the Order out from his house was that Mrs. Weasley was no longer around to ensure that the kitchen was fully stocked. And that meant that he needed to take a trip to the grocery store for supplies, which in turn meant a trip to Diagon Alley and Gringotts for money. Well he could just Floo into The Leaky Cauldron and go from there.
Closing the door to the fridge, he ignored his rumbling stomach and went into the main living room. He was just reaching for the jar of Floo powder, when the fire blinked green and a face appear hovering in the flames. Harry groaned at the sight of the face, his own face turning stern and discouraging.
“Ah, Harry…perfect timing. I was wondering if you could come to Hogwarts this afternoon. I feel that you will want to be here for a meeting that we are having.” Albus Dumbledore, bane of Harry’s existence and the most meddlesome wizard ever know to grace the earth, said as his eyes twinkled with unconcealed humor.
“And pray tell why would I want to inflict myself with your presence,” Harry growled, not one bit amused by the request.
“That Harry, is the question…however this meeting should prove to be, what shall I say…very beneficial to yourself,” Albus quickly replied, seeing the distrust coloring Harry’s expression.
“Probably as beneficial as a root canal,” Harry murmured, ignoring Albus’ twinkling eyes and raised eyebrow. “What time?”
“Very good, my boy,” Albus said, disregarding Harry’s growl, “If you could be in my office by two this afternoon, that shall give us plenty of time to catch up prior to the meeting. I shall see you soon, Harry.” With that last word, Albus’ face disappeared from the fire, which sparked and crackled back to its original gold and red colors.
Harry sighed heavily, one hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose as he felt a headache begin to well behind his eyes. Only Dumbledore could do this to him, pop in unexpectedly and drop a bombshell and leave just as quick without any answers.
It wasn’t bad enough that the wizard still tried to treat him like a child, keeping secrets and such, but it was the way that he masterfully manipulated each situation to dictate his needs no matter the outcome.
Harry sighed, dropping his hand back to the jar of Floo powder, just praying that this time he wasn’t going to be talked into something that he may later regret.
~TBC~