Fallen Star (Sequel to Shooting Star) COMPLETE

April in San Francisco was a mixture of cool breezy days and brilliant warm ones, a riot of flowers, and tourists everywhere. Business picked up at the restaurant and tips were good.

They had lived in San Francisco for nine months now, and life had settled into a nice rhythm. Harlan still hung out with Mark, but the man seemed to have backed off of his propositions. David took his lover to dinner, movies and even occasionally dancing on their nights off. Sometimes, they went to parties after work with their friends. Other days they explored the sights of the city, and some days they spent doing laundry or watching television together. It was a good life. Better than David had imagined it could be.

David kissed Harlan as they left the restaurant. "See you in a couple hours," he said. "Home by two," he called out to Mark in reminder.

"I'll call you if anything," Harlan said as he got into Mark's car, thankful that David had finally gotten them both cell phones.

David rolled his eyes and nodded, waving. He caught the Muni bus and sat back, relaxing until he reached the place to change buses. He had picked up a transfer ticket and got off the bus, crossed the street and stood on the corner waiting for the next one. He glanced at his watch, which read 12:15 AM. He sighed, tired and wanting to get home.

A car, blaring loud music, pulled up at the curb. "Hey buddy," a man called out, "can you give us directions?"

David stepped up and leant into the window. There were four men in the car. The one in the passenger side pointed a gun at him and David froze. The two men in the backseat got out and stepped behind him.

"Hey faggot," one of them said, "give us your money."

David scowled, wishing he still carried his wand but held up his hands. "Sure," he said. He had heard enough stories to know it was better not to argue when one is being mugged. It meant losing the evening's tips though, and that would mean he couldn’t take Harlan out that week.

One of the men began reaching into David's pockets, pulling out his wallet and the change he carried, then his cell phone. David tried to hold still and not show any fear.

"So where's your boyfriend, faggot?" one of the men sneered.

David was trying to decide if was more dangerous to respond or ignore the question, when he felt the blow to the back of his head. The world spun and he fell to his knees.

***

Harlan was in the middle of trying his best to stay still for another one of Mark's sketches. They still hadn't done any nude ones, but the more comfortable he got, the more he thought about it.

Mark smiled at the dark-haired man. He had known Harlan for nine months now and they were friends. He still found the man beautiful but had accepted that they wouldn’t be more than friends. He had done dozens of sketches of Harlan, but never grew tired of drawing him.

"Are you done-" Suddenly Harlan cried out, falling to his knees before he slowly fell onto his side. His eyes were shut. It felt like something heavy had hit him on the back of his head.

***

The blows continued in the form of kicks – taunts and insults accompanying them. David curled in on himself, covering his head with his arms. Flashes of his father's cane and sneering voice mingled with those of his attackers until he was sure he was lying on the floor of the Manor and not the pavement.

***

Harlan jerked as he felt another blow to his stomach, and he curled up, that earning him another in the back. He couldn't tell who was doing this. It couldn't be Mark. He was sitting in the chair when he felt the first blow. He tried to concentrate through the body-jerking blows, but it was hard and tears began streaming down his face.

***

Draco moaned, begging his father to stop. He heard laughter. More blows followed and the world spun black.

***

Harry groaned, rolling over as he shook. He gritted his teeth and tried to get up on his hands and knees, falling down a few times. The flat began to shake as Harry clenched his hands into fists, raw magic flowing through him as he fought to get control of it.

Mark ignored the tremor and crouched beside Harry. "Harlan, do I call an ambulance? I tried calling David but there was no answer," he asked, voice frantic as he tried to figure out what was happening.

Harry was gasping, finally opening his eyes and looking at Mark. It wasn't him. That meant...the spell’s bond. "David..." he whispered, gritting his teeth again. The floor shook again and a few things fell off of Mark's shelves.

Mark looked down and frowned. "I can't reach him,” he repeated, heart pounding as he tried to remain calm.

"We have to find him," Harry insisted, his voice hoarse as he began to crawl to the door. The door flew open and Harry glanced back at Mark. "I need your help."

Mark's eyes widened. "The...door...What the fuck?" he asked, unsure of what he thought he had just seen.

"I don't have time for this. Are you going to help or not?" Harry insisted, trying to get up on his own. Despite the magic, he was still hurting, his body shaking.

Mark was at his side them, helping him up. "I should take you to a doctor," he said more insistently now.

"No, I don't need a doctor," Harry said, leaning heavily on him, "David does. Now. Please, we have to find him."

Mark helped Harry down the stairs and to his car, confused by what his friend was saying. "To your place then?" he asked.

"It wouldn't happen at home," Harry said, shaking his head. That would mean he could be anywhere. "Dammit!" The car shook as Harry thought hard. "He...he transfers buses. Go to where he’d have to wait for the next bus."

"Was that another earthquake?" Mark asked when he felt the second tremor. He had just started the car and looking around worriedly. Then, "I don't know where you change buses."

Harry ignored the question as he quickly told Mark the exact street corner where they would transfer. "Hurry, Mark. Please..."

They drove thought the quieter streets of the Mission district until they reached the cross street. A light rain was falling now and the pavement was slick. Finally, they pulled up to the intersection. Draco was lying in the gutter.

"Oh, Merlin," Harry whispered, seeing Draco's blond hair almost immediately. He opened the car door and stumbled out. "Draco!" he yelled, falling on his knees next to him and reaching out for him. "Please, Draco..." Harry knew enough to feel along his neck for a pulse. There was one, and he sighed in relief. It wasn't over though. If his own body was throbbing he couldn't imagine what Draco was feeling. "Mark, help me get him in the car!"

Mark had jumped out of the car too, putting it park but leaving it running. "Oh, fuck," he yelled. "Shouldn't we call the police?" He had no idea how Harry had known that something was wrong with his partner, but he could see it was bad.

"What will they do? Ask questions, and they'll probably never find who did this to him. Now help me get him into the fucking car, please," Harry insisted.

"They will bring EMTs and an ambulance," Mark said, but began to help Harry lift the bleeding man into the car.

"I can help him," Harry said, once they managed to get him in the backseat. He got in with him and combed his fingers through his lover’s wet bloody hair. "Just take us home now."

"Harlan, he is bleeding badly and at least one of his arms looks broken," Mark pleaded. "Shouldn't we get him to a doctor?"

Harry noticed he was bleeding from a gash on his forehead. Harry had learned some basic healing spells during the war, but he had never tried to do them wandlessly before. He concentrated now, desperately hoping to control his magic. His fingers tingling with magic as he ran his finger along the cut, he closed his eyes and whispering words under his breath. The cut slowly sealed up and the blood stopped flowing. He looked up at Mark again. "Take us home, Mark. I'll...I'll explain this all, and I'll need your help."

Mark watched, eyes wide as Harry healed the cut. He didn’t know what to think of what he was seeing, but he was sure he wasn’t going to argue with his friend after witnessing it. He gulped and turned around, driving as quickly as he could to the two men's flat and ignoring the no-parking sign to pull as close to their place as possible.

"Let's get him inside," Harry said once they stopped, opening the door. It was raining harder and it made his hair stick to his forehead and get in the way, but all he cared about right now was Draco.

Mark turned off the car and jumped out to help Harry carry Draco inside and up the stairs to the flat. Draco moaned pitifully as he was jostled on the stairs.

"I'm sorry, it'll be okay," Harry whispered, glancing around before he looked at their door, wandlessly unlocking it before it flew open as well. "Inside and go to the bed to lay him down."

They lay the still-moaning blond on the futon, and Mark looked at his own bloody hands for a moment. "What do we do?" he asked.

"Harry," Draco gasped, tossing his head in pain.

"You can wash your hands and put some water in a kettle for tea. And then fill a bigger bowl with warm water and bring a rag." Harry got onto the bed, brushing the wet hair off of Draco's face. "I'm here. I'm going to help you." He began to unbutton Draco's blood-stained shirt.

Mark nodded. He closed the door to the flat and went to do exactly as Harry told him. He felt almost like he was in some kind of weird dream. Harry's commanding behaviour was odd and yet compelling.

"Harry, please, don't let him hurt me again," Draco begged.

"He won't ever hurt you again, Draco," Harry said, pulling his shirt off gently. "I'll take care of you."

"Please," Draco begged, sounding like he was a child again. He wasn't entirely awake. Pain and dark memories swirled in his mind.

As Harry peeled away the cloth, he saw bloody gashes along the blond's ribs, left by boot tips.

"I'll kill these people if I ever find them," Harry growled, moving close and resting both of his hands on the area. He could tell at least one of his ribs was broken; that would be the reason why it hurt Harry to bend on his side. "Take a deep breath, Draco." He felt he needed to touch the wounds to heal them but he knew it would hurt Draco and therefore himself when he did it. He pressed his hands down, slowly healing the gashes as he felt along the rib to fix it. He was crying by then, gasping and shaking

Mark came to his side again. "Harlan?" he asked worriedly. He wanted to help but felt completely out of his depth.

Draco cried out, begging again for this father not to hurt him anymore.

"It hurts," Harry whispered, pulling his hands away once the rib was finally put back into place. Bones took longer to heal, but this would be a good start. He leant against Mark, trembling violently as he looked at Draco.

Mark held him, shaking in fear too. "Harlan," he whispered. "I don't understand what is happening. I'm not stupid. But this ... what you are doing, it's like something out of a movie."

"I said I would explain, and I will. But I just need to make sure he's okay first," Harry said, turning in Mark's arms and looking up at him. Harry leant up and kissed Mark's cheek, feeling a bit of his magic spark through his lips.

Draco was unconscious again, still quietly moaning and shifting on the bed. His left arm was at a wrong angle, broken just above the wrist.

Harry pulled away and walked around the bed, reaching out to Draco’s arm and moving it back into place as gently as could and then concentrating on healing the break. When he concentrated, he found he could use his connection with Draco to feel the break itself. It was odd to use the Enslavement Spell to help, but since it was working, he was grateful.

Draco screamed, body arching on the bed and Mark jumped.

The tea pot whistled.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut at the sound. His own arm throbbed as he looked up at Mark. "Turn the stove off. And I still need the bowl of warm water and a rag."

Mark jumped again and ran to turn off the fire. He rummaged around in the shelves and found a bowl and cloth. He filled the bowl with warm water from the sink and brought it back to the bed.

Draco lay moaning and crying again, his head thrashing.

"Thank you," Harry said, his face softening as he smiled at Mark. He picked up the cloth and dipped it in the water, moving it up and gently wiping the blood off Draco’s face, healing all the cuts he passed along the way. He went down his chest, dipping the cloth into the water a few times, healing everything he came along. By the time he was done, his own body was in much less pain than before and that meant it was almost the same for Draco. He handed the bowl of now bloody water back to Mark.

Mark felt numb as he took the bowl to empty it into the sink.

Thankfully, Draco had calmed down and it calmed Harry down, his body feeling worn-out. He sat down on the bed, glancing at Mark. "Tea?"

Mark startled, nodding quickly and going to back to make the tea. He found focusing on the mundane task helped him remain calm. He brought Harry the cup of tea, his own hands shaking as he handed it over. "I forgot to ask," he whispered, "should there be something in it besides the tea?"

“Sugar," Harry whispered, as he finally took a seat on the bed. He glanced at Mark, smiling at him again. "Thanks."

Mark went back and found the sugar, bringing it to Harry and adding it. Then he sat down beside him. "Can you tell me now?" he asked.

Harry took a small sip of the tea, looking at Draco on the bed before looking at Mark. "Do you believe in miracles, Mark?"

Mark licked his lips, glancing back at where Draco slept. "If I didn't before, I do now," he said.

Harry quietly sipped at his tea, trying to think of the best way to tell him this. "That's a start. What I did to him was a lot of healing magic."

"Magic?" Mark repeated, eyes wide.

"Magic," Harry confirmed.

"Damn," Mark said, leaning back, then frowning. He didn’t understand how this could be true.

"I'm a wizard,” Harry said.

"A wizard?" Mark repeated, feeling stupid. Things like this couldn’t be true could they?

Harry nodded, looking at him. "We're both wizards."

Mark looked back at Draco, then back to Harry. "Him too?" he asked.

"Him too," Harry confirmed. "I can trust you not to tell anyone, right?"

"Like they would believe me if I did," Mark huffed. Then he looked seriously at him. "I won't tell. I don't know, somehow it is easier for me to imagine him with some kind of spells than you. I mean, he’s just is kind of frightening sometimes."

"You don't have to be frightening to be a wizard, Mark," Harry said, resting his head on his shoulder. "We're just like you. We're just able to perform magic, that's all." Harry lifted the blanket up from where he sat and tucked it carefully around Draco.

"If he can do magic, how did this happen to him?" Mark asked.

"We can get hurt," Harry whispered.

Mark nodded, looking thoughtful. He looked at the floor for a minute. "And your name really isn't Harlan, is it?"

Harry blushed softly. "No, it's Harry," he replied.

"And what did you call him?" Mark asked, looking at the blond again.

"Draco," Harry replied, looking as well.

The man in question murmured in his sleep at the sound of his name. Mark was staring at him. "He looks different when he is asleep. No sneer on his face," he said.

"He's beautiful really," Harry said quietly.

"Still say I like your looks better," Mark said, smiling. "I can see why you think so though."

"You prefer who you prefer," Harry said easily, smiling back at him.

"Are you really from England? Is any of the other stuff you’ve told me true?" Mark asked.

"I have the accent, so yes, I'm from England. And I told you the truth, mostly," Harry answered, resting his head on Mark's shoulder again.

"Sorry," Mark said, tentatively putting an arm around Harry. "It's just a lot to take in, you know?" It felt both good and odd to be comforting Harry after everything he had just witnessed. Yet, he felt good to be able to help.

"I know. I'm glad you're taking it this way though. I want to explain more, but I really need to talk with Draco first," Harry murmured.

"You sleep," Mark said. "I can sit up and keep watch. Not sure what I will do if anything happens, but I can wake you, right?"

"Yes, please. Thank you, Mark," Harry said softly, relaxing against him easily and slowly falling asleep.

Mark shifted, lying Harry back beside Draco on the futon and then lifting the man's legs onto the bed. He took off Harry’s shoes. He shook his head at the sight of the two men and then sat down in the armchair to keep watch.