Light Em Up
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
4
Views:
2,391
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
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Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
4
Views:
2,391
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
Harry Potter and it's fandom is not owned by me, and I make no profit from writing this.
Light Em Up
This fic is four chapters long, including this prologue. It is also a songfic, featuring (Light Em Up) by Fall Out Boy. I do not own the lyrics. I make zilch money from this. What a pity.
I am aware that I have yet to post a new chapter to Hero, uploaded to aff.org. It is, until further notice, suspended. I'm sorry for those who liked it. Please enjoy this in its stead. If anyone would like to doodle something for this, I'll gladly exchange artwork. (Fair warning, I'll probably only do line art until I can get my laptop, and art programs, back up and running.) I busted this out in exactly 24 hours, proof-read/beta'd myself. (What else am I to do with three years of English Lit college courses?) Xo
-DO
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
August 30, 1998
Harry trudged down Diagon Alley. He kept his head down to minimize the recognition, but wherever he went, squeals and shouts of his name followed. It was always the same any time he ventured outside his door and into Diagon. Quickly, he dodged into the apothecary and slid behind some shelves. Taking a well-earned breather, and immensely glad he wasn't followed, he peered through the various jars labeled with all sorts of potions ingredients to the next isle. A low conversation drifted to his ears, a young girl and an older guy, both with their backs to him.
"These things aren't cheap, are they? But Potions sound so interesting!" The girl lamented.
"Potions is a worthy subject to pursue. Most everyone will be in need of them at some point in their lives. And if there's no dedicated brewers, wherever shall they get their tonics, or their cures?" Came a kind reply. Harry realised with a jolt that it was Draco Malfoy speaking to the new student.
"Yes. I understand that. But it seems I'll have to be a rich snob to be able to afford this subject. My parents are only middle class and probably wouldn't understand my fascination enough to 'waste money'."
"Are you muggle-born?" Draco asked quietly. Immediately Harry's hackles rose, along with his wand. If Malfoy even uttered one veiled insult, he'd fire the nastiest Jelly-Legs Jinx he could muster. The shock he got next nearly made him drop his wand in surprise.
"Yes, Sir. I'll be a first year at the start of term, seeing how I was omitted from the prior school year." Even to Harry's ears she sounded like a miniature Hermione.
"Well then, Miss-?"
"Abernathy. Aisling Abernathy. And you are?"
"My name is Draco. Potions was my favourite subject and I enjoyed it immensely. I see no reason why someone who obviously has such a keen interest, but has not the familiar coffers, should go without study for lack of ingredients." Harry heard the distinct sound of a heavy money bag being handed over and a soft "Wow, thank you Sir!" and a quiet "Off you get." before the sound of the girl's Mary Jane shoes raced off. The rustle of robes was the only warning he had before Draco rounded the isle and nearly ran smack into Harry. Draco just about jumped out of his skin and Harry DID drop his wand.
"Malfoy!" "Potter!" "Oh bugger, I didn't mean-" "I'm sorry I-"
Harry and Draco both stopped and stared at each other. The silence grew thick until Draco stooped to retrieve the dropped Holly. With a neutral face, he handed over the wand without fuss, nodding to Harry's soft "thank you". The two young men shifted on their feet slightly, then Harry opened his mouth to speak at the same time as Malfoy. With a bemused blink, Draco motioned for Harry to speak.
"That was a very nice thing you did Mal-Draco." He intoned quietly, catching himself.
"Have you been dropping eaves, Pot-er-Harry?"
"No...nothing like that. I was just escaping the hoards outside." Harry replied, jerking his thumb over his shoulder where a group of fans huddled outside the window.
"I see. That makes sense to why you're in an apothecary, when Potions was never your fortê." The words were brittle, but the tone was light and Harry broke no umbrage from it. He actually chuckled warmly. Draco stared hard, slightly confused at the sound.
"I'll leave those to you. I'm content with beating you at Quidditch anyway." Harry parried the quip with a teasing uplift of his lips. Again Draco stared hard, and swallowed even harder. If his voice was a tad hoarse when he spoke, Harry took very little notice.
"Listen...Potter...I wanted to say th-"
"Hey, no. Don't even thank me. I pulled you out of that fire because not even you deserved that death. You were a right prat, but based on what I saw just now, you're not completely lost. I'm actually proud of you." Harry said, beaming. Draco made a small sound in the back of his throat and nodded, unable to bring himself to correct the notion Harry had as to the unfinished portion of his sentence.
"I'll see you around, Draco. Hopefully with more stories like that one with the muggle-born." And with that, Harry disappeared out the door.
*-*-*-*-*-*
Weeks later saw a very irate eighteen year old. Harry had had enough. Everywhere he went. Any little thing he did. Everything was made into a procession and no amount of deflection would change how the world was treating him. That day outside the apothecary was just the tip of the iceberg. He needed out. He needed away. Far, far away. He thought of that one encounter in the apothecary weeks ago, and wondered if Draco could keep up this new leaf after Harry's watchful and approving eyes were no longer around. Because he didn't plan to be around.
*-*-*-*-*-*
October 1, 1998
WIZARDING SAVIOR, THE BOY WHO LIVED TWICE, DISAPPEARS!
For our humble little world, only one name can ward off the darkness. But what happens when the owner of that name goes missing with nary a word? Have hitherto unknown and secret Death Eaters made off with our Golden Boy of Gryffindor? A source close to him fingers certain defected Death Eaters who were released without charged on the strength of Harry Potter's word alone. Is this their repayment? Eyewitness accounts concerning these former Death Eaters place them in places known for our Saviors' favor. Did something sinister befall him? Make no mistake, this dedicated reporter shall root out the truth!
Draco threw the paper down in disgust. The issue was from a few months prior, and it still rankled in his breast that anyone would dare finger him in Har-Potter's disappearance. He had much more to gain to him sticking around rather than flitting off. Without him around, Draco saw very little point in doing so. And no matter how much good he did, they still jump to his family if anything negative happens to the hero. No point. None at all. It wasn't even for them he was trying for. It was that damned scar-headed nuisance. He doubted anything seriously bad happened to the boy wonder. Most likely he did exactly what Draco planned to do once Harry's return seemed unlikely. He cashed in his vault to muggle money and packed his possessions. Blaise had offered him a way out, and he was taking it. Today.
Draco cast Incendio to the paper and left without a backwards glance, words imprinting them into his brain.
'Gonna need a spark to ignite...'
I am aware that I have yet to post a new chapter to Hero, uploaded to aff.org. It is, until further notice, suspended. I'm sorry for those who liked it. Please enjoy this in its stead. If anyone would like to doodle something for this, I'll gladly exchange artwork. (Fair warning, I'll probably only do line art until I can get my laptop, and art programs, back up and running.) I busted this out in exactly 24 hours, proof-read/beta'd myself. (What else am I to do with three years of English Lit college courses?) Xo
-DO
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
August 30, 1998
Harry trudged down Diagon Alley. He kept his head down to minimize the recognition, but wherever he went, squeals and shouts of his name followed. It was always the same any time he ventured outside his door and into Diagon. Quickly, he dodged into the apothecary and slid behind some shelves. Taking a well-earned breather, and immensely glad he wasn't followed, he peered through the various jars labeled with all sorts of potions ingredients to the next isle. A low conversation drifted to his ears, a young girl and an older guy, both with their backs to him.
"These things aren't cheap, are they? But Potions sound so interesting!" The girl lamented.
"Potions is a worthy subject to pursue. Most everyone will be in need of them at some point in their lives. And if there's no dedicated brewers, wherever shall they get their tonics, or their cures?" Came a kind reply. Harry realised with a jolt that it was Draco Malfoy speaking to the new student.
"Yes. I understand that. But it seems I'll have to be a rich snob to be able to afford this subject. My parents are only middle class and probably wouldn't understand my fascination enough to 'waste money'."
"Are you muggle-born?" Draco asked quietly. Immediately Harry's hackles rose, along with his wand. If Malfoy even uttered one veiled insult, he'd fire the nastiest Jelly-Legs Jinx he could muster. The shock he got next nearly made him drop his wand in surprise.
"Yes, Sir. I'll be a first year at the start of term, seeing how I was omitted from the prior school year." Even to Harry's ears she sounded like a miniature Hermione.
"Well then, Miss-?"
"Abernathy. Aisling Abernathy. And you are?"
"My name is Draco. Potions was my favourite subject and I enjoyed it immensely. I see no reason why someone who obviously has such a keen interest, but has not the familiar coffers, should go without study for lack of ingredients." Harry heard the distinct sound of a heavy money bag being handed over and a soft "Wow, thank you Sir!" and a quiet "Off you get." before the sound of the girl's Mary Jane shoes raced off. The rustle of robes was the only warning he had before Draco rounded the isle and nearly ran smack into Harry. Draco just about jumped out of his skin and Harry DID drop his wand.
"Malfoy!" "Potter!" "Oh bugger, I didn't mean-" "I'm sorry I-"
Harry and Draco both stopped and stared at each other. The silence grew thick until Draco stooped to retrieve the dropped Holly. With a neutral face, he handed over the wand without fuss, nodding to Harry's soft "thank you". The two young men shifted on their feet slightly, then Harry opened his mouth to speak at the same time as Malfoy. With a bemused blink, Draco motioned for Harry to speak.
"That was a very nice thing you did Mal-Draco." He intoned quietly, catching himself.
"Have you been dropping eaves, Pot-er-Harry?"
"No...nothing like that. I was just escaping the hoards outside." Harry replied, jerking his thumb over his shoulder where a group of fans huddled outside the window.
"I see. That makes sense to why you're in an apothecary, when Potions was never your fortê." The words were brittle, but the tone was light and Harry broke no umbrage from it. He actually chuckled warmly. Draco stared hard, slightly confused at the sound.
"I'll leave those to you. I'm content with beating you at Quidditch anyway." Harry parried the quip with a teasing uplift of his lips. Again Draco stared hard, and swallowed even harder. If his voice was a tad hoarse when he spoke, Harry took very little notice.
"Listen...Potter...I wanted to say th-"
"Hey, no. Don't even thank me. I pulled you out of that fire because not even you deserved that death. You were a right prat, but based on what I saw just now, you're not completely lost. I'm actually proud of you." Harry said, beaming. Draco made a small sound in the back of his throat and nodded, unable to bring himself to correct the notion Harry had as to the unfinished portion of his sentence.
"I'll see you around, Draco. Hopefully with more stories like that one with the muggle-born." And with that, Harry disappeared out the door.
*-*-*-*-*-*
Weeks later saw a very irate eighteen year old. Harry had had enough. Everywhere he went. Any little thing he did. Everything was made into a procession and no amount of deflection would change how the world was treating him. That day outside the apothecary was just the tip of the iceberg. He needed out. He needed away. Far, far away. He thought of that one encounter in the apothecary weeks ago, and wondered if Draco could keep up this new leaf after Harry's watchful and approving eyes were no longer around. Because he didn't plan to be around.
*-*-*-*-*-*
October 1, 1998
WIZARDING SAVIOR, THE BOY WHO LIVED TWICE, DISAPPEARS!
For our humble little world, only one name can ward off the darkness. But what happens when the owner of that name goes missing with nary a word? Have hitherto unknown and secret Death Eaters made off with our Golden Boy of Gryffindor? A source close to him fingers certain defected Death Eaters who were released without charged on the strength of Harry Potter's word alone. Is this their repayment? Eyewitness accounts concerning these former Death Eaters place them in places known for our Saviors' favor. Did something sinister befall him? Make no mistake, this dedicated reporter shall root out the truth!
Draco threw the paper down in disgust. The issue was from a few months prior, and it still rankled in his breast that anyone would dare finger him in Har-Potter's disappearance. He had much more to gain to him sticking around rather than flitting off. Without him around, Draco saw very little point in doing so. And no matter how much good he did, they still jump to his family if anything negative happens to the hero. No point. None at all. It wasn't even for them he was trying for. It was that damned scar-headed nuisance. He doubted anything seriously bad happened to the boy wonder. Most likely he did exactly what Draco planned to do once Harry's return seemed unlikely. He cashed in his vault to muggle money and packed his possessions. Blaise had offered him a way out, and he was taking it. Today.
Draco cast Incendio to the paper and left without a backwards glance, words imprinting them into his brain.
'Gonna need a spark to ignite...'