Hogwarts & The Sex-Ed Teacher
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
12
Views:
3,459
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
12
Views:
3,459
Reviews:
2
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.
Falling
Chapter 10 : We are all brothers under the skin - and I, for one, would be willing to skin humanity to prove it. -- Ellsworth Toohey, The Fountainhead
The great green glow held like a gossamer bubble and throbbed with malicious intent.
Avada Kedava was meant to produce a massive lightening bolt and kill outright whom-so-ever it was cast upon. This wasn’t right this humming glow.
**Perhapssss it isss thissss awful lissssp, but that doessssn’t look right** Voldemort stalked around the captured couple.
As one his Deatheaters gasped in approval and awe unknowing of what spell he had wrought, and his arrogance bathed in their fear and blind love. Coated in conceit he preened with pride before their open admiration.
Voldemort mentally caressed Harry’s mind, feeding horror and hatred, visions of the dead and dying, massacres and terrors created by him and his, Deatheaters.
**Your father issss not a nice man Potter, do you hate him even more now? How preciousss that you ssshall die in the armsss of a man you hate rather than that of Malfroyssss brat. I sssshall have Draco not you. There is no love for you and no life, no future**
**Harry, he called me Harry, not Potter.** Said in that amazing voice that had given him the chills from day one, and then when full fledge wizarding maturity had hit this last year, that same said voice had given him thrills of an entirely different kind.
An entirely inappropriate kind, //blush// **by Merlins beard he is my father. My father, My father**.
**My father, this strong man, this Hero, this bastard, this spy, this enigma, the ‘greasy git’ the ‘basement bat’ giggle** ** I heard that**
Suddenly it all fell into place, the sorting hat, the half truths, the rumours. All he could think of was family and love was all he felt.
“I love you too Sev.., father” He burrowed his head into his fathers’ chest tears escaping from his eyes. Both totally oblivious to everything else and to what happened next.
The Deatheaters as one stepped back from the swelling glow that throbbed and hummed and grew … in just one split second it cast out tendrils of lightening, one for each assembled. Then suddenly, it was gone. So was half the forest.
For miles around trees stripped of foliage lay fanned out from the epicentre everything burnt. No life stirred no breeze, and no sound.
That was how the Auroras’ found them, two fallen heroes in each others arms.
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies, and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not, and either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives"
In his office Dumbledore nursed his burnt hand, even after Poppy’s care it hurt like hell. It was worth it though to destroy that dammed ring, one less Horcrux to agonise over. Fawkes gave a strangled squawk and exploded.
He shuffled over feeling every bit his age, and brushed aside the ashes to reveal the gawky chick. Tenderly he picked it up and in cupped hands cradled it against his chest. Fawkes nuzzled into his beard, a fine nest for a fine bird.
In the privacy of his office an uncharacteristic tear escaped and lost itself in his beard, it was not alone.
The great green glow held like a gossamer bubble and throbbed with malicious intent.
Avada Kedava was meant to produce a massive lightening bolt and kill outright whom-so-ever it was cast upon. This wasn’t right this humming glow.
**Perhapssss it isss thissss awful lissssp, but that doessssn’t look right** Voldemort stalked around the captured couple.
As one his Deatheaters gasped in approval and awe unknowing of what spell he had wrought, and his arrogance bathed in their fear and blind love. Coated in conceit he preened with pride before their open admiration.
Voldemort mentally caressed Harry’s mind, feeding horror and hatred, visions of the dead and dying, massacres and terrors created by him and his, Deatheaters.
**Your father issss not a nice man Potter, do you hate him even more now? How preciousss that you ssshall die in the armsss of a man you hate rather than that of Malfroyssss brat. I sssshall have Draco not you. There is no love for you and no life, no future**
**Harry, he called me Harry, not Potter.** Said in that amazing voice that had given him the chills from day one, and then when full fledge wizarding maturity had hit this last year, that same said voice had given him thrills of an entirely different kind.
An entirely inappropriate kind, //blush// **by Merlins beard he is my father. My father, My father**.
**My father, this strong man, this Hero, this bastard, this spy, this enigma, the ‘greasy git’ the ‘basement bat’ giggle** ** I heard that**
Suddenly it all fell into place, the sorting hat, the half truths, the rumours. All he could think of was family and love was all he felt.
“I love you too Sev.., father” He burrowed his head into his fathers’ chest tears escaping from his eyes. Both totally oblivious to everything else and to what happened next.
The Deatheaters as one stepped back from the swelling glow that throbbed and hummed and grew … in just one split second it cast out tendrils of lightening, one for each assembled. Then suddenly, it was gone. So was half the forest.
For miles around trees stripped of foliage lay fanned out from the epicentre everything burnt. No life stirred no breeze, and no sound.
That was how the Auroras’ found them, two fallen heroes in each others arms.
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies, and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not, and either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives"
In his office Dumbledore nursed his burnt hand, even after Poppy’s care it hurt like hell. It was worth it though to destroy that dammed ring, one less Horcrux to agonise over. Fawkes gave a strangled squawk and exploded.
He shuffled over feeling every bit his age, and brushed aside the ashes to reveal the gawky chick. Tenderly he picked it up and in cupped hands cradled it against his chest. Fawkes nuzzled into his beard, a fine nest for a fine bird.
In the privacy of his office an uncharacteristic tear escaped and lost itself in his beard, it was not alone.