Twisted Faerie Tales

Author’s Note: Thanks to Deb for her beta work, and thanks to all of you who had reviewed so far. Oh, this story also includes a lyric from The Whomping Willows (one of Deb’s requirements) See if you can spot it.

Part 2

“Reducto!” Harry shouted and a spray of rocks flew into the sky and rained down on Sirius’ head, making his godfather dodge and wince. The boulder that had been there before was now a pile of rubble and ruin.

“You fight dirty, Harry,” his godfather called out, laughing at his own pun as he dusted his velvet jacket free of debris.

“I have to stay on my toes when I duel with you, Sirius. Who knows what pranks you’ll pull to try and best me,” Harry called back across the yard, grinning wildly.

“Pranks? Me? I’m offended!” Sirius replied, gasping indignantly as he clutched his heart in feigned shock. “Expelliarmus!” he shouted, while Harry was laughing at his godfather’s antics.

“Arhg!” Harry exclaimed, his wand flying from his fist. “See. I told you so.”

“Semino Nemus!” Sirius shouted next, and a root grew from the ground, larger and larger until it lifted Harry up and sent him toppling to the ground, the air rushing from his lungs in a giant whoosh. He heard the ground cracking all around him, and when he looked up, a massive tree stood where he’d just been standing a moment before.

“Aw, Harry. You got beat by a tree,” Sirius teased, causing Harry to glare back at him malevolently.

“Merlin, Sirius! You could have killed me with that thing!” Harry grumbled, grabbing up his wand from the ground beside him.

“I wouldn’t have let you get hurt, Harry. You ought to know that by now.” Sirius walked over to where Harry sat, covered in grass and soil, and pulled him to his feet. “Not every wizard you come across will be quite so fair though.”

“I know,” Harry sulked as he cast a Scourgify on his robes. The moment Sirius turned his back to walk toward the house, Harry leveled his wand and whispered, “Serpensortia,” at the ground by Sirius’ feet.

A brilliant green snake slithered from the tip of his wand and slinked over to where Sirius was walking oblivious to Harry’s spell work. A string of hissing words flew from his tongue, directing the snake not to bite, but to rear up and scare his godfather. The snake nodded his wide head obediently and slithered into Sirius’ path.

The man gave a shout and leapt nearly a metre into the air before hearing Harry’s laughter behind him. “Never turn your back on an armed wizard, Sirius,” he lectured. “You should know better.”

“I should,” he replied, his eyes never leaving the snake. “Now, could you get rid of that thing? You know I hate snakes!” Harry chuckled and the snake disappeared with a wave of his hand. Sirius’ eye flared wide at that and he stood there gaping at his godson in shock. “Since when could you do wandless magic, Harry?”

The man shrugged and sheathed his wand. “I’ve been able to do it for years now. Why, can’t you?”

“No, Harry. Only very powerful wizards can perform wandless magic, and I’ve never heard of a seventeen year old boy able to do so, much less someone younger,” Sirius commented, twirling a finger in his wild goatee. “Why have you never used it while dueling before?”

“It doesn’t seem proper,” Harry replied. “I like the feel of a wand in my hand; the hardness and power of the smooth wood.”

Sirius blinked, trying to dispel his godson’s words and he turned away, shaking his head as he walked back into the cottage without another sound. One day Harry was going to realize that he was in fact a lover of men, but Sirius refused to push him. He’d known for quite sometime now, but Harry was still young, still exploring and trying to figure out who he was. When the time came that Harry was willing to admit his sexuality to himself, and to his family, Sirius would be there for him. Just like he always was.

He couldn’t, however, explain Harry’s gift, but he should have expected it. Harry had always been advanced in his skills, able to master a spell or curse faster than anyone Sirius had ever known, including the boy’s mother, Lily, who was the cleverest witch he’d ever met. The power behind the boy’s Patronus at only thirteen years old was a testament to his ability. Sirius loved Harry like a son, but he often wondered if there was more to his godson’s destiny than living in a humble cottage and being tutored by his father’s childhood friend.

He vowed to discuss it with Remus after dinner that night. Perhaps there was an academy they could enroll Harry in. Sirius would be loath to see his godson shipped away, but he would do whatever was in Harry’s best interest. Perhaps his little prodigy could be Minister for Magic one day.

“Sirius, I think I’m going for a quick fly,” Harry called after him and his godfather turned and waved.

“Whatever you like, Harry. Just be back before dinner or Remus will have both our arses!” Sirius called back, making Harry chuckle as he took off for the broom shed.

Flying always cleared Harry’s mind, and he was slightly worried about what his godfather had told him. Was it really so rare for him to be able to use magic without a wand? It sometimes helped him focus the energy when he used a wand, which is why he opted for it when dueling, but most of the time it was easier to just think about what he wanted to happen and make it happen. It was how he accomplished most of his chores, though he doubted he’d tell Sirius that or else he might wind up with more.

Did this make him a freak? He supposed adding one more oddity to the list wouldn’t mean much at this point. He was Harry Potter, boy who never got to know his parents, the boy who apparently defeated a dark lord as in infant, procuring a lovely scar as a memento. Now he was the boy with too much magic.

Harry sighed as he pulled his broom from the cupboard and took to the sky. Swooping and diving through the air, Harry let all of his worries drain away. He skimmed the treetops of the neighboring forest, rustling birds from their nests and sending them into squawking frenzies. The toes of his trainers occasionally brushed some of the higher branches, but Harry didn’t fall. He never fell. He was as adept at flying on a broom as he was with his wand, maybe even more so.

No thought entered Harry’s mind save that of peculiar cloud shapes or the endless feel of the wind against his face… until he heard a voice on that wind that nearly knocked him from the sky. He slowed, unable to guess where it came from, but his ears absorbed the sound and craved more of it. Someone was singing, and the tune might have been the most beautiful thing Harry had ever heard. There were no words he could make out, no lyrics, but the song was lovely nonetheless and the voice of the singer was lovelier still.

Harry tried to follow the sound, rising higher to try and get a glimpse of where it might be coming from. So far as he knew there were no villages or houses nearby, but soon he was high enough to see the tip of a tall tower peeking out through the canopy. That had to be where the music was coming from, so he dove in the direction of the tower, listening to the melody as he grew closer.

The nearer Harry got, the more erratic his broom started to react, bucking beneath him like an untamed horse. Eventually Harry was forced with the decision to land or turn back, because wards around the tower seemed to prevent anyone from accessing it by air. He might have turned back, except the song was too beautiful, the voice too enchanting and he felt compelled to find the source. Harry frowned and silently debated what he should do. Sirius would be angry with him if he attempted to visit the tower by foot. There was obviously someone magical living inside and the wards were strong enough to indicate a powerful witch or wizard resided there.

But Harry felt confident in his dueling ability should it come to blows, and he had no reason to suspect it would. So, down he went, through the canopy until he landed safely on the soft forest floor. He felt around in front of him, trying to determine if the wards would prevent him from going forward on foot, but they seemed to flow around him like silk now. Harry presses ahead, the woods growing darker all around him, the beautiful voice drawing him to the tower like a moth to a flame.

The tower was amazing when he found it. It seemed ordinary enough at first, but the stacked stones were nearly solid black, sparkling in the moonlight, and for the life of him, Harry couldn’t find the door. There had to be one, he reasoned. It was likely hidden with magic, so Harry tried whatever Charm he could think of to reveal it, but nothing worked. At the top, Harry could see but a single window, the green glass panes swung open, and that was where the stunning voice was coming from.

Harry stared up for a long time, trying to figure out a way to scale the tower wall. The stones were too slick, and there was nothing for Harry to clutch when he tried to climb up and his broom was still just a useless sweeping instrument in his hands at the moment. Nothing seemed to work, and after hours of trying, Harry was forced to leave the tower unfulfilled. He wanted so desperately to meet the person that voice belonged to, but it wasn’t to be, so Harry flew back home, ready to be scolded for missing dinner, the haunting song following in his wake.

Draco sat just inside the window in his chambers at Nurmengard tower, watching the sky turn to inky black. A song he’d learned on the harp that morning still lingered with him, and he sang it into the air, willing someone to hear it and come to ease his loneliness.

The tower wasn’t horrid. He was trapped there, sure, but Grindelwald did everything he could to make it comfortable for him and his almost daily visits were the highlight of Draco’s existence. He didn’t know what he would have done without the wizard’s strong and powerful hand to guide him. The man taught him how to read, to write, to play whatever instrument Draco fancied, but best of all, Grindelwald taught him magic.

He often asked after his parents, craving to learn more about them, but on that subject, Grindelwald remained quiet, saying only that they had been fine people murdered by the dark wizard that Grindelwald was trying to protect Draco from now. Draco learned not to question how he’d ended up in the care of the gracious wizard, but he was thankful to the man, and tried to be always obedient.

Draco would love to take walks in the forest, see flowers growing straight out of the ground or meet people other than his loving master, but he knew better than to ask. Grindelwald provided him shelter, food, knowledge and companionship and all he asked in return was for Draco to remain in this room for him and him alone. Draco had gone through a few years where the price seemed too steep, but he’d long gotten over the idea of rebelling against Grindelwald.

It was folly to argue with the man, for Grindelwald would always win and as his ward, Draco was bound to heed his words. Besides, his chambers were hardly anything to scoff at. He had all that he needed and most of what he wanted on the top two floors of the tower. A large canopy bed rested on the topmost floor, with his bathing chamber and his vast closets, and a narrow, spiraling stair led him to another floor just below it. There, Draco could prepare food or delight in whatever he craved at the moment whether it be reading or music or his studies in magic. Draco had whatever he liked, courtesy of his noble keeper.

All in all, Draco was content, but there were still many nights that Draco wished for something more. In one of the books he’d read the week before, it described a couple kissing, and Draco wondered what it would feel like to press his lips to another human being’s or to feel them wrapped around him, holding him while he slept. Gellert would sometimes kiss Draco’s forehead as he left, or embrace him briefly as a greeting, but it was fatherly and Draco wanted to be touched by a lover’s hand, not his master’s.

Pulled from his song by a rustling of leaves, Draco thought he heard, or rather felt, someone stirring down below at the tower’s bottom, but when he leaned up to peer over the edge, there was no one there. With a sigh, Draco resigned to his bed and tried to forget about his idle wishes to meet that perfect someone that would complete him. He had Grindelwald after all, and he was a great man who cared dearly for him.

That would be enough. For now.

Grindelwald glanced at the ground at the base of Nurmengard tower and scowled. It looked like someone had been there the night before, but he couldn’t be sure. It could have just as easily been a woodland creature, but the repelling wards should have put off most of those. He had so much magic lingering around the tower that he was sure no one could get to his precious Draco, but he still worried, especially now that Draco was of age and asking for more adult reading materials. He knew that at some point, Draco would stop seeing him as a mentor and start seeing him as a prison guard, and Grindelwald dreaded that moment.

Things between them had already grown tense, because Draco was blossoming into a very beautiful man. It had been simple to resist Draco’s charms when he was younger because he’d been but a boy then, but now he was lithe and handsome and clever and Grindelwald fought every day not to press his advantage as the boy’s keeper. Grindelwald’s visits had grown shorter and more sporadic as he tried to fight off the burgeoning lust he now felt for his ward, but that morning he had decided to try a new tactic.

Perhaps, with a little encouragement, Draco could be his in every way. He had no idea if the man looked at him that way, but Grindelwald was nothing if not persuasive.

“Draco, oh Draco, let down your hair, so that I may climb up your golden stair,” he called up to the open window. Moments later a long braid was lowered down and Grindelwald used the platinum mane to climb up to his Dragon in the sky.

“Draco, my lovely, how are you today?” he asked as he stepped into the blond’s room.

“I’m well,” Draco answered, but Grindelwald could sense that something was off.

“What is it? What do you lack? Have you decided to give up the harp? Are your robes too drabby, should I bring you new ones?” he asked.

“No, everything is fine,” Draco assured him and pulled the wizard downstairs behind him. Grindelwald caught a glance at the book Draco was reading, a Shakespearean tale, and he smirked down at it before pulling a new volume from his inner pocket.

“I’ve brought you something new to read. How are you liking Romeo and Juliet?” he asked.

“I like it very much, Sir,” Draco replied, taking the new novel from his hands and staring at the cover for a long while.

“Please, Draco, you no longer need to call me sir. You are a man now, my equal in most ways. You should call me Gellert,” he corrected.

Draco bowed his head, and Grindelwald grinned at his obedient boy who would likely remain that way in bed. A thrill ran through him and straight to his cock as he imagined being able to order his ward into doing whatever perverse thing he liked. He licked his lips, unable to stop the action and noticed Draco follow the movement with interest.

“I think today we should study some of the more advanced magic,” Grindelwald explained. “Binding magic, perhaps,” he whispered. Draco tensed, but nodded, waiting for his master’s instruction.

Grindelwald demonstrated, using his wand to conjure and direct several long pieces of rope, which he used wrapped around the banister leading upstairs. “Brilliant,” Draco remarked, moving over to study the man’s handiwork. “Can you do the same with other things, like ribbon or cords?”

“I can,” Grindelwald replied, using his magic once more to create a long, thick ribbon, which he tied around Draco’s wrists. “I can even use it to summon something I want,” he explained, and gave the ribbon a sharp tug, pulling Draco against him. Draco’s chest was heaving with the strength of his breathing, their lips only centimeters apart.

Grindelwald’s fingers came up and caressed Draco’s pale cheek, trailing down to whisper over those pouting lips. “This is different,” Draco breathed out in a hot puff.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

“I – I don’t know,” Draco admitted and Grindelwald took a decisive step back.

“You think of me as your father, don’t you, Draco?” he asked and the blond nodded solemnly. “Well don’t. Think of me as a man who cares for you, who wants you, who needs you.”

“You need me?” Draco asked, obviously unsure of this new development between them.

“I do,” Grindelwald whispered. “Would you permit me a kiss?” he asked. Draco looked to be thinking it over, but eventually nodded as Grindelwald had expected he would.

He pressed his lips to Draco’s feeling the warmth of his body against his own as he stepped forward. He flicked his tongue out slowly, tentatively, but Draco relented after a moment allowed his master to bask in the delightful flavor of him. He was fully erect by the time they broke apart, and it took all of his willpower to step back and see what effect he’d had on his young ward.

Draco stood there as if dazed, his lips still slightly parted. “That was-”

“Perfect,” Grindelwald said.

“Weird,” Draco finished in the same moment, glancing up with fear in his eyes the next. “I’m sorry, it’s just, you’ve raised me and I love you, but not in any romantic sense,” he sighed, fumbling with a button on his robes.

Grindelwald shook the comment off with a laugh but narrowed his eyes. “You’ll change your mind. You’ll see me as a lover one day, Draco. Even if I have to make you,” he replied ominously. “I think that will be all for today. Walk me to the window now.”

Draco shivered at the man’s words and obediently walked with him upstairs, lowering his enchanted braid to the ground so that Grindelwald could climb down. After the man had gone, Draco pulled his long hair back up, pressed his fingers to his lips and nearly sobbed. He had known better than to wish for anything more than what he had. One wish for a romantic companion, and now here he was, dreading his next encounter with the man he had loved and trusted.

Would he ever see Grindelwald as the man who would fulfill him in every way? Would he even have a choice? Grindelwald had forced him into things before, but would he force this upon him as well? There was nothing in their past that made Draco think that he wouldn’t, but Draco worried what that might mean. It seemed his entire life had started to crumble.

Just as he was about to move away from the window and busy himself with something else, Draco heard a voice from below, asking to let his hair down again. Draco’s entire body went rigid, worried that Grindelwald had returned to force himself upon him, and for a moment, Draco thought of refusing him access to the tower, but only for a moment. If he denied his master, there would be punishment, and it wasn’t as if he could ignore the wizard’s call forever. He would need food at some point and Grindelwald was powerful, as he’d proven time and time again. He would find a way up regardless.

Slowly, Draco lowered his hair once more, feeling a vague but painless tug as his master climbed. He saw the first dim shadow of him and then averted his gaze, unable to look up into the violet eyes that would betray him. But as he pulled the hair back up, rounding to finally greet his captor, he knew immediately that something was wrong.

“Who are you?” he asked, balking as his eyes met the brilliant green orbs of a stranger.

This man was far younger than Grindelwald, dark where his master was light, fit and handsome. Although, Draco’s gaze didn’t leave those emerald eyes for long. The messy, ebony hair, the sun kissed flesh and the cheeky grin were nothing in comparison to the jewel tone quality of the stranger’s gaze.

“I heard you singing last night,” the man replied, his voice a breathy whisper. “I had to meet you.”

Draco narrowed his eyes and remained otherwise stoic. This impertinent man had tricked him, scaled his hair and was now standing before him like a curious cat and Draco was supposed to believe he’d done all of this because of a song on the air? It might have been what he’d secretly wished for, but even when thinking of it he’d known it was silly and impossible. For a moment, he suspected that this was some sort of test from Grindelwald, but surely his master knew he was far too clever to fall for such a blatant farce?

“You never told me who you are,” he pointed out blandly.

“Oh, right,” the man replied with a blush Draco found alarmingly adorable. “My name’s Harry. Harry Potter.”

“Well, Harry Potter, mind telling me what you’re really doing here?” Draco asked.

“I already told you. I heard your voice last night. I tried for hours to reach you up here, but I couldn’t figure out a way,” Harry replied.

“You expect me to believe that you’ve been down in that glade all night long and today as well?” Draco demanded, rolling his eyes.

“Obviously I went home before coming back today,” Harry replied as he took in Draco’s reclusive flat. “I’m not a creeper after all,” he added as an afterthought.

Draco couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled to his lips at such a casual remark to his insanity or lack thereof. “No, it’s not creepy at all to so persistently stalk a man you’ve never met simply because of his voice,” Draco replied.

“Exactly.” The word was uttered with such blinding sincerity that Draco didn’t know how to respond. “So, do you have a name then? Or should I just call you nightingale?”

“Call me whatever you like,” Draco scoffed. “It matters little to me as you’ll be dead the moment my master arrives.”

“Your master?” Harry asked, wandering further into the chambers unbidden. He picked up a vase in the corner, admired it for a moment and set it down again before moving on to the next trinket, all the while ignorant to Draco’s irritation.

“Would you put that down,” he ordered, snatching a dragon figurine from Harry’s grasp and setting it aside. “Didn’t your parents ever teach you not to touch other people’s things?”

“No,” Harry replied, taking a step away from the glowering blond. “I never really knew them. I live with my godfather and his husband.”

“Oh,” Draco breathed, wincing as he looked away. “Sorry. I never really knew mine either.”

“And who is this Master you speak of?” Harry asked, eager to change the subject.

“The one who saved me,” Draco replied vaguely. “He put me here a long time ago so that the evil man who killed my parents couldn’t find me.”

“Apparently we have a lot in common,” Harry mused. “Aside from the tower thing of course.”

Draco smiled despite his best effort not to and silently moved to close the gap between them. “Who are you really?” he asked softly.

“Just Harry,” the brunet replied and Draco thought he had never seen such honest eyes.

“Very well,” he sighed. “You may call me Draco.”

“Draco,” Harry repeated, rolling the name around on his tongue like a fine wine. “I like that.”

“Well, it sure beats the name Harry, that’s for sure,” he mocked.

Harry laughed, looking completely unprovoked and moved over to Draco’s bed, running his hand along the fine silk bedding. “So, you never leave? The tower, I mean?”

“I have no need,” Draco replied, trying to dispel the images that flew into his brain with Harry standing so close to his bed. Suddenly he could see Harry’s strong arms surrounding him and tossing him to the mattress like a rag doll, ravaging his body with a passion Draco never thought he would experience.

“Have you no friends, no other family?” Harry pressed, now stroking the bedposts reverently as Draco watched on; unable to resist comparing the motion to the way he secretly wanted Harry to stroke him.

He swallowed and blushed, trying to recover before he had to reply. “What use would that be. I’m content here. My master loves and protects me,” he answered, thanking his voice for not breaking.

“Love?” Harry asked, pausing in his caress of the wood and stepping away from the bed, which put him closer to Draco. “You love him?”

“Yes,” Draco answered with only an ounce of hesitation. He would have been able to answer blindly had it not been for the recent development between he and Grindelwald, and perhaps if not for the dark-haired beauty before him.

“So, he’s your lover?” Harry asked.

“I don’t see how that’s any business of yours,” Draco snapped.

“You’re right,” Harry said, backing up again. “So, what do you do up here all day?”

The way Potter so easily changed subjects, as if slipping on a new pair of rear hugging denims, was maddening. Still, Draco tried to go along since it was his idea that the conversation shift to begin with.

“I read, I write, I study,” he replied nonchalantly. “I’m learning to play the harp at the moment.”

“The harp?” Harry asked, obviously trying to suppress a chuckle. “Really?”

“There’s nothing wrong with the harp,” Draco grumbled, turning away so that Harry wouldn’t see the way his teasing had affected him.

“No, I suppose not,” Harry replied soberly. “I enjoy Quidditch myself.”

“Quidditch? You really play that? I read about it, but it seemed dreadfully dangerous,” Draco gasped, turning and staring at the dark haired man in earnest. He could envision it easily enough, Harry’s strong legs wrapped around a broom handle, hurtling through the sky at tremendous speeds.

“It’s brilliant,” he replied wistfully. “Soaring over the treetops, feeling the damp of the clouds, escaping everything and everyone.”

“It sounds…freeing,” Draco whispered.

“It is,” Harry agreed. “My head is always clear when I’m on my broom.”

“I suppose that’s different than the rest of the time?” Draco countered, unable to resist himself.

Harry merely smiled though, running a hand through those ebony locks of his. “You’re sort of a prat, aren’t you?”

“Does that bother you?” Draco asked, unaware that his hair was shortening as he moved closer to the raven-haired stranger until Harry’s eyes went wide.

“Your hair,” he gasped, watching as the braid slowly unwound as Draco’s hair returned to its normal length, falling just over his forehead and curling around his ears.

“The other is a spell,” he explained, smiling at Harry’s befuddled expression. “It’s just to allow my master entrance to the tower.”

“And me,” Harry pointed out with a cheeky grin.

“So it would seem,” Draco replied. “Speaking of. You really shouldn’t be here. If he finds out he’ll murder you and throttle me.”

“What’s the matter? Not allowed to have handsome men in your bedchamber?” Harry teased, reaching up as if he would run his fingers through Draco’s hair before he stopped short and let his hand fall to his side.

“Who said I think you’re handsome?” Draco corrected, smirking at Harry’s pout. “Besides, you’d get bored stuck here in the tower with me.”

“Something tells me I’d find something to do,” Harry breathed and Draco found himself captivated once more by that emerald gaze. He was forced to shake his head to keep from pulling Harry close and tasting of those sweetly parted lips.

“You should go. This is dangerous,” he said, marching over to the window, his hair already beginning to grow into the lengthy braid again. “He’ll know you’ve been here and he’ll punish me for it.”

“I don’t want that,” Harry said honestly as he followed Draco to the window.

“He comes to me every day at the same time,” Draco said, “but he leaves me before the sun sets.”

“I could come back,” Harry offered, balancing on the window ledge as Draco lowered his hair once more. “Do you want me to come back?”

“Don’t let him see you,” Draco warned as an answer, his eyes locked with Harry’s emerald green gaze. “Whatever you do, don’t let him see you come to me. If he’s not suspicious when he visits tomorrow, then I’ll let down my hair for you,” Draco promised, and Harry hoped that Draco’s master remained ignorant of his visit. He certainly wanted no harm to come to the lovely captive, but he selfishly wanted to see him again. “And for Merlin’s sake, do try and brush a comb through that hair.”

Harry laughed and began his descent, waving up at Draco when his feet touched firm ground. He lingered longer than he should, watching as Draco’s braid faded away and his shadow moved further into his quarters, before finally setting off through the path he now knew well through the forest where he’d left his broom.

Author’s Note: For anyone interested, I’m auctioning off a Harry Potter or Merlin story for the Haiti relief. See my Live Journal for details or go here: http://community.livejournal.com/help_haiti/6394.html?thread=5330426#t5330426