Spell Master

Author: Babychan

email: baby_chan1778@yahoo.com or babychan1778@yahoo.com

Title: Spell Master

Rating: R but it will become NC17 later.

Series: Yes. Chapter 23/?

Parings: H/D S/N/L N/B

Warning: Mention of non-con HP/SB

Summary: The wizarding world is going to find out that Harry Potter is not the only one with awesome powers. Its a Pro-Slytherin and Pro-Draco fic. This is slash fiction. .

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all its characters do NOT belong to me :( (pout) I’m just writing for the fun of it. I get no money for it whatsoever. .

A.N.: I would to thank everyone for their reviews for my fic. It means so very much. Thank you.

Spell Master

The exact moment McGonagall heard the blood curdling shriek –which seemed to come out of nowhere– she started screaming herself. Normally, the Gryffindor Head would have been able to keep her composure, but the presence of the pink-haired Nightmare had her so tightly wound, she couldn’t help herself.

Seeing McGonagall scream, Draco and Hermione started screaming as well. The un-rattling of the Deputy Headmistress terrified the Head Girl, and the fact that Draco *knew* who the mysterious screamer was –but unfortunately, didn‘t know if Harry was a ghost or not– pushed the young prince over the edge as well. He could no longer feign equanimity. In truth, Draco was so stressed, he was almost ready to confess.

Almost.

But not quite.

When the children started screaming, Nalta faltered back in shock, and bumped into Lupin. Unfortunately for the DADA professor, the power of her touch triggered a horrifying “nightmare” to skitter across the man’s minds eye. The images were so horrendous, he started screaming too.

When Lupin started screaming, the profound intensity of it startled Snape so much, he screamed too.

The whole spectacle was observed by a very amused and slightly shocked Headmaster.

Snape was the first to compose himself, and in extreme irritation, he huffed and bellowed out for everyone else to, “Shut up! All of you! Just shut the fuck up!”

“Severus!” Dumbledore admonished disapprovingly. “There are ladies present.”

The Potions Master didn’t apologize, but he conceded with a stiff nod, then with dramatic flare, Severus turned on his heel and stormed back toward his seat. Usually, the prolific orator never used such crude words, but right now, he didn’t give a rat’s arse about the vulgarity of his language. He was upset. Upset with them for scaring the shite out of him, and upset with himself for getting scared over *nothing!*

Dumbledore could tell that Severus was trying his hardest to calm down. He could also tell by the shape and the way Snape pressed his mouth shut, that his vampire fangs were growing. Only a small lot of people, in the school, knew that Professor Snape was a True Vampire, and the man wanted to keep it that way.

Nalta was the second to recover, and the little demon curiously walked over toward the bookcase, stood up on her tippy toes, and touched a secret spot. Instantly, the section of the bookcase –which hid Draco’s bedroom– shimmered away, and revealed a huge elliptical arched doorway, which was guarded by two, white marble caryatids. The two women were carved in the image of Veela soliders of the Royal Guard. With wings and all, the uniform they wore was very similar to the ones of ancient Rome. The Veela on the right hand side, wore the emblem of the 7th House on her breast plate. She also held a bow and arrow in her hands. While the woman on the left wore the Malfoy family crest on her breast plate and held a halberd in her hand.

Draco’s eyes went owlishly wide when Nalta opened the door. How could she betray him like that?! Didn’t she realize that the dead body of the wizarding world’s last hope, lay on the other side? Damn demon! She was going to be the death of him yet! Yes, the DEATH of him, because Draco felt like he was going to have a heart attack at any moment. Silently though, Draco thanked his mother –who had decorated this room– for the foresight of including a silken veil in the doorway. Because of that veil, they couldn’t see inside his bedroom.

Yet.

When the door opened, Minerva back pedaled away from the Nightmare, bumping into Hermione. In her haste to get away, she almost knocked them both over.

Lupin on the other had, paid no attention to the door being opened, for he was bent over, with his hands on his knees, breathing deeply, as he tried to calm down. He was certain that he was going to have nightmares, for at *least* weeks. Those images were so appalling! They were disgusting and cruel and demonic and... EVIL!!! Remus couldn’t believe that the Malfoy’s *allowed* their son to have such a *creature* as a familiar.! He couldn’t believe that Dumbledore approved and registered it here. It was mind boggling! Remus wondered how Draco coped with the strain of it. He wondered how the boy slept peacefully.

It wasn’t until Nalta walked through the veil, and after Draco scrambled after her, did Remus take notice to the doorway. Actually, it wasn’t the doorway that caught his attention. It was the slight scent of

“Harry!”

Hermione, who was still trying to steady McGonagall, whipped her gaze toward Lupin and then toward the door. “Harry’s in there?”

The DADA professor swallowed thickly as he nodded his head and forced himself to stand upright. “I’m sure of it!” Of course he was sure of it. With his keen werewolf senses, he could probably smell and identify Harry’s scent from a mile away.

Scared for her friend, Hermione let go of McGonagall and cried out. “Harry, I’m coming!”

The very next moment, a pale, slender hand, which held a wand, slipped through the veil, accompanied with frantic drawl of “Adutos!”

Instantly, the two large statues moved their weapons into an X shape, and blocked the entrance to the doorway.

Undaunted, Hermione and Lupin attempted to breach the entrance but were stopped when someone called out.

“Impedimenta!”

Instantly, the two zealous Gryffindors were completely frozen. Icicle hanging from their noses, and all. But most importantly, they had stopped in their tracks.

“Severus!” Minerva scolded. “Did you really have to use *that* spell!”

Snape snorted contemptuously from where he was sitting. “They should be thanking me.” He pointed at the caryatids with a dismissive flick of the wrist. “They’re set on maim. I just saved them a limb...or two.”

Minerva’s hand flittered to her throat as she shifted her attention away from Snape and gave the two large statutes a wary glance. Sighing under her breath, she mentally admitted that she needed a drink. A very *alcoholic* drink.

Dumbledore floated Lupin and Granger back in front of the couch they were sitting at and reversed the spell. Both Gryffindor’s looked extremely confused when they realized that they were no longer by the bedroom.

“What?” How?” Hermione sputtered. “How did I get back over here?”

Lupin glared angrily at Snape, for he had heard the man cast the spell, but in a very discrete movement, Severus pointed at Dumbledore. Laying all the blame on the old man.

“Sir?” Remus growled *almost* patiently. “What is the meaning of this? Harry’s in the next room!”

“Yes, I know.” Dumbledore soothed. “That’s why we are here, remember?”

Snape arched a brow at that comment.

“But something's happened to him!” Hermione cried out, completely distressed. “Something’s hurt him! Didn‘t you hear him scream? He needs us!”

“It’s probably one of those horrible Nightmares!” Minerva added fearfully.

At that suggestion Remus, bolted for the entrance again. He had already experienced the horrific power of those creatures. He didn’t want Harry to be subjected to it as well.

Dumbledore whispered a spell that stopped Lupin in his tracks. It was a good thing too, because if he would have gotten one step closer, the statute with the Malfoy crest, would have decapitated the man.

The near murder made Hermione and McGonagall scream again.

“My word, Severus!” The Headmaster gasped, completely alarmed. “You weren’t kidding!”

Severus wasn’t able to comment, because at that exact moment McGonagall proclaimed that she was leaving. Actually, she bellowed that she was, and I quote:

“Leaving this death trap of a room ! With its pentagrams, Hell’s fire, *Nightmares*, and murderous gargoyles! Gryffindor bravery her blooming arse! This was too fucking much and she was too old for this shite! She was leaving these accursed dungeons and going back to the safety of the towers!”

Opened-mouthed and completely dumbfounded, everyone watched, the usually *very* conservative Deputy Headmistress storm out in a flurry of billowing robes.

“Ooookaaayyy.” Albus breathed out in a shocked awe. Never had he seen her react like that. Never. Although, he didn’t blame her. He knew of her phobia of Nightmares. He knew of her past experiences with them too. Actually, he was impressed that she was able to say as long as she did. She’d come a long way.

The Headmaster then focused on Remus. “Professor Lupin, If you would please...” He gestured to the couch. “Unfortunately, we are going to have to wait and hope that the young Malfoy protects Harry as we would.

“But!” Lupin interrupted.

Only to be interrupted by Dumbledore “We cannot bypass young Malfoy’s guardians... not without his password. To try would be fatal.” Dumbledore released his spell. “Please try to understand, Remus. These are not just any gargoyles.”

In spite of his sage words, the Headmaster had no idea how dangerous they were, when he approved Mrs. Malfoy’s decorative plans. Then again, she probably hadn’t told him. He couldn’t really remember anything about their meeting except wanting to please her so badly. Dumbledore was completely smitten with Princess Narcissa’s Veela charms. Usually, he wasn’t so taken with Veela’s, but the princess was too powerful for him not to be affected; therefore, for all he knew, he had probably approved a Hell’s bound abyss in here too. He made such a fool of himself! Dumbledore was just glad that he rarely had to deal with her. Lucius he could handle, on any day of the week. But not her. Never her.

Remus reluctantly agreed to wait it out, but he refused to take a seat. Instead, he paced back and forth, like a tiger locked in a cage, and at a barely safe enough distance away from the caryatids . If he couldn’t go in and see what was going on, he at least, wanted to hear.

It was extremely tense as they waited, in silence. Everyone was lost in their own thoughts, or fears.

The Headmaster, for instance, was lost in both.

The fact that Severus was so rattled, weighed heavily on Dumbledore’s mind. It meant that the Potions Master knew something. Something bad. And wasn’t telling. Severus’s secrecy wasn’t a good sign because Dumbledore trusted him. Depended on the man for information. But if Snape didn’t trust *him* anymore...

No, this was not good at all.

Nor was it expected.

Albus decided that he was going to have to think of ways to regain his raven-haired serpent’s allegiance again. Unfortunately, he had a feeling that guilt trips weren’t going to work anymore. He groaned inwardly at the thought of this arduous task. And not for the first time, he cursed his actions at the End of the Years Banquet, because he knew that for the second time, his *own* actions threw Severus right into the hands, and persuasions, of Lucius Malfoy. Who in Dumbledore’s opinion, was the devil reincarnate. After Voldemort that is.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the initial shock of his dream, Harry woke up. He found himself weighted down and surrounded in darkness. He wasn’t exactly sure where he was or if he was in another dream, but he quickly discovered that he was buried under a lot of silky sheets, a heavy duvet, and a mountain of feather pillows. After he pushed all of this off of him, realized that he was lying in a bed. Not his bed, mind you. Not even a school issued bed. This, particular bed, wasn’t even a four poster. It was more like a huge white and sliver, elegant sled whose sides hugged its soft, downy, mattress protectively. It did have a canopy though. The sheer, shimmering fabric was suspended by a golden, levitating hoop, which almost reached the high cathedral ceiling. The sled bed was covered with sensual and libidinous carvings of angelic looking men and women having sex in every possible way one could imagine. And many more positions, most would never even think of.

For that reason alone, and even before he noticed the huge winged snake crest in the middle of the headboard, Harry knew where he was.

The thought made him extremely uncomfortable. But what made him even more uncomfortable was that fact that he was...

Naked.

Well, not completely naked...

He still had on his boxers.

But that was it!

Immediately, an unbidden memory of being pressed face down in the damp and unforgiving earth, of the Forbidden Forest surfaced. The fear brought with that memory intensified 10fold when he realized that he was no longer alone in the room.

“Are you a ghost?” Draco whispered out fearfully to the pale figure on his bed. He hoped and prayed that Potter wasn’t.

Harry didn‘t answer the question. Instead, he asked his own in an almost identical whisper as he tried to cover himself with the duvet. “Where are my clothes?”

Draco swallowed thickly before he answered. “I had to throw them away.” Which was true.

“Why?” Harry asked impatiently and fearfully. The presence of Malfoy wasn’t that much of a shock, but the tiny, pink haired, crimson eyes, *mouthless* girl who was standing beside Malfoy, was freaking him out.

“They...were...” Draco looked away from the boy and softly admitted. “They were destroyed.” He felt sick. for he had just realized that he could have killed Potter, by thinking the boy was already dead.

“How?” Harry asked, though he already had an idea of how. He figured that it probably had something to do with the spell Malfoy invoked.

Draco shrugged.

“You don’t know?”? Harry asked disbelievingly, then arched a brow when the blond boy’s hair started to flitter around his face.

Draco pressed his lips together and shook his head in a lie. His refusal to answer was not because he feared the others would hear their conversation. The adutos spell, was a sort of privacy spell. It was just that he didn’t want to answer. The chthonic powder, he used was like an acid. It destroyed Potters clothes, it would have eaten away the boy’s skin too, and caused a bloody mess, if Draco would have left it on him. But he didn’t, because Draco had decided to hide Potter in his bed. He didn’t want the powder to destroy it, for that piece of furniture was particularly precious to him. Also, and as a last resort, if worst came to worse, Draco would have consummated their marriage bond and he wanted to be comfortable.

“Did you...” Harry took a deep breath, because this was what he wanted to ask from the get go. “ Did you do anything to me?”

Draco‘s gaze snapped up with a furiously, annoyed expression “What?!!”

“You heard me!” Harry spat out. His nerves couldn’t take this anymore. “Did you fucking touch me!”

“As little as possible, I assure you!” Malfoy spat back.

Harry snorted in doubt as he tightened the duvet around his shoulders.

“For your information, Potter!” Draco spat out. “I have no need for nefarious plots to take advantage of narcoleptic idoits who---”

“Did you just accuse me of liking to sleep dead people?” The raven-haired boy interrupted in total disgust.

Malfoy opened his mouth to retort, then closed it as he replayed his last words in his head. “That’s *necrophilic* you fool!“ He then furiously roared. “I said *narcoleptic*!”

“Well excuuuuuse me!” Harry roared right back! He tightened the bed cover around himself. “It’s not everyday that I wake up in s strange bed and find myself *naked*!”

“Really?” Draco drawled doubtfully. “The way you fainted... You acted as if I were a dementor.” He chuckled maliciously as he remembered a past prank. Unfortunately, he also remembered that Harry got him back for that too. Damn galloping...what was it.? Malfoy couldn’t remember, exactly, but he thought it looked like an antelope. Damn galloping antelope!

“I can handle a demenotor just fine, Malfoy.” Harry assured, dangerously, as he shimmed a hand out of covers. “Just as I can handle you. Accio wand!”

Draco smirked and smugly crossed his arms when nothing happened.

Harry looked frantic. “What did you do to my wand?!”

“For your information, Potter, I didn’t do a damn thing to your wand!”

“Like hell you didn’t!” The raven haired boy seethed “Accio wand!” Still nothing happened.

Draco pointed at the cloth of the canopy. “Mayhaps if you would shut up and take note to your surroundings, before accusing me of wrong doings, you would have realized that the bed’s enclosed in a Somnus Net, which is also connected to a Morpheus Web.” Indignantly, Malfoy pointed toward the golden hoop.

Harry looked up and then noticed that it looked like a dream catcher. Oh. So there was a Morpheus web up there. Funny how it didn’t appear that way before. “So what does that have to do with me and my wand?”

“Together, they catch magic, either going in or out.” Draco informed with superior irritation and a roll of his eyes. How Potter survived this long in the wizarding world was beyond him. “So you can use your pitiful excuse of wandless magic to summon your wand all day long. It won’t work because I seriously doubt you have the power needed to over come its wards.”

“Is that right?” Harry asked indignantly.

“That’s right.” Draco replied smugly because he honestly didn’t believe all the hype about the Boy-Who-Lived. Sure ,he knew that Harry had defected the Dark Lord a couple of times, but Draco also knew that Potter wasn’t confined to the limitations of the Scalvus Curse. More than that. Harry never really “defeated” Voldemort. He just lived. Harry was the Boy-Who-Lived. Big whoopdeedo! The Purebloods were still slaves; therefore Draco was *never* impressed by Potter’s title.

This time, however, it was Harry’s turn to smirk. With a snap of his fingers, his wand just *appeared* floating in front of him. The flabbergasted expression on Malfoy’s face was priceless. And before Draco was able to get over the shock of that little trick, Harry pointed his wand and shouted out. “Cambiare Ophis!”

Instantly falling and disappearing into the safety of her own shadow, Nalta escaped the blue stream of magic. Draco, on the other hand, barely had enough time to twist out of the way ,as the blue glow of the spell breezed past him.

“What the hell!” Malfoy seethed. “You tried to turn me into a snake!”

“Damn straight I did!” Harry snapped back.

“Why?” demanded Malfoy.

“Because you hexed me first, that’s why!” He yelled and cast another hex. “Popilia japonica!”

A beetle. Harry tried to turn him into a beetle!

“I did no such thing!” Draco disputed as he barely dodged the spell.

Harry shook his head. He wasn’t accepting any lies. Never again. He thought they had called a truce in the Trophy Room, only to betrayed AGAIN! He was tired of being betrayed. He was tired being lied to. And he was tired of being hurt! In his rage, he cast another spell.

Again, Draco barely had time to dodge it. He didn’t even bother pulling out his wand. He had enough duels with Potter to know that he could rarely beat him. It wasn’t that he didn’t have enough power. Draco had enough ego, and prejudice, to believe that being a pureblood made him *much* stronger than those who were merely a halfblood. Also, his inability to win duels, against Potter, wasn’t due to the fact that he didn’t know enough spells, either. Because Draco was a nerd. He was certain that he could hex, curse, and charm circles around Potter. No, Draco always lost because Potter was always just a half second faster. The boy dueled like his life depended on it.

Which in Potter’s case, it did.

But still!

So in the end, it didn’t matter, if Draco was a pureblood, powerful or extremely skilled. When it came to dueling with Potter, all that mattered was...

Speed.

Harry Potter’s forte.

When Harry called out the spell that could have turned him into a ferret, Draco had enough and rushed the boy. Taking the Sumnus net down with him, he pushed Harry on his back and grabbed his wand and threw it. He tried to throw it across the room, but it got caught in the fabric of his fallen canopy and bounced back on the bed.

“By Nemisis! Stop this!” Draco hissed as he struggled with the material of both the canopy and the duvet, to straddle himself on top of Harry.

This was too familiar. “Get off me!” Harry growled and writhed under Malfoy. A flash of a memory of fighting and struggling, in a similar fashion, surfaced, and extreme fear washed over the raven-haired boy. “Get off me right now!”

“No!” The blond bit out as he held the trapped boy’s dueling hand above his head.

“Accio wand!”

Instantly, the summoned wand flew toward Harry’s hand, but Draco was the one to catch it, through the material.

“Potter, stop this! Unless you want me to bind you!”

“No!!” Harry cried out, kicking and bucking his hips. His frantic actions were only wrapping the fabric more tightly around him, making him more trapped and more afraid. “Please...please get off of me!”

“Why? So you can try to hex me again!” Malfoy seethed and shook his head. “I don’t think so!”

Harry shook his head wildly as he tossed, twisted and contorted his body. This was just to familiar. Too terrifyingly familiar. He couldn’t allow this to happen to him again. Never again!

“Oh for the love of Orcus! Potter, calm down!” Draco raged in a long suffering sigh. He then positioned himself so that he was lying completely on top of Harry, and laying in a way that inhibited Potter from kicking ,or even moving. “If you don’t calm down, I won’t let you go!”

Harry pinched his eyes closed, dug his heels into the mattress, arched his back and used all his strength buck the blond off of him. The action caught Draco of guard, and threw him back while also making him let go of Potter’s wand.

When Harry felt that he was free, he twisted around and made a grab for his wand. Unfortunately, for the raven-haired boy, Nalta –whose soul intention was to protect Draco–made a grab for the wand as well. The moment Harry touched her pale, little, hand, his mind became flooded with nightmarishly enhanced memories.

More than the horrific screams, Draco was taken back by the explosion of raw power that emancipated off of Potter. So was Nalta, who quickly hid into the shadows, again. Luckily, for the both of them, most of that power was captured by the Sumnus Net. Unfortunately for Harry, the panic-stricken boy was still tangled and trapped in the net, and was therefore becoming even more hysterical with every passing second.

Draco was at a loss of what to do. He knew what he *should* do. But... that was a lot of power surrounding Potter.

He could get hurt.

And selflessly, putting oneself in danger was *not* the Slytherin way.

It wasn’t until Harry started to, outright, wail did Draco go against his better judgment and use his demonic telekinesis to lift Potter up and untangle him from both the canopy and the duvet.

However, if he would have just *known*, how much power was trapped in there, he would have left Potter alone.

Or at least, he would have put up his demonic shield.

Unfortunately, he *didn’t* know.

And that was why he was knocked off the bed, unexpectedly thrown across the room, and painfully slammed into one of his armoires.

In, Draco’s not so humble opinion, experiencing Potter’s raw power was like having a stone wall, which was flying about a hundred miles an hour, crash into him.

It hurt sooooooo much!

*Never* had he witnessed, or experienced, such a raw display of power. “No wonder...” Draco mentally whimpered. “So many wizards are terrified of him.” If he would have known Harry could do *this*, he would have left him alone too.

Through the haze of his pain, Draco barely realized that he had lost all control of human shift and he was now in his true form with long hair, and angelic wings and all. The young prince was glad that his wings surface *after* he hit the armoire, or Potter would have made him break his wings, AGAIN!! Idly, Draco was also glad that he kept on his Veela attire, or the emergence of his wings would have been very painful indeed. But then again, it felt like all of his bones were a broken, anyway, so he might not have noticed it.

Unfortunately for both teens, being freed from his imprisonment did nothing to calm Harry down. He was lost in whatever nightmare, or memory, Nalta mistakenly trapped him in, and because of that he was releasing more and more power.

Draco didn’t know what to do, but he knew that he had to do something. This type of release wasn’t safe. It could kill Potter. But most importantly, in Draco’s not so humble opinion, it could kill *him* if Potter decided to channel it and direct it at him. Hell, at this magical intensity, a jelly legs curse could probable do him in! And with his injuries, Draco wasn’t sure if he could move fast enough to dodge it.

But still, he knew that he had to do...

Something.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco wasn’t the only one who was slammed by Harry’s power. Remus –who was standing close to the doorway– was as well. The brown-haired man flew over the couch, over the glass coffee table, across the room, and landed haphazardly in Snape’s lap. If Lupin wasn’t so worried about Harry, he would have appreciated were the Fates landed him. He would have even sent up a little mental thank you. But as it stood, all he could think about was Harry and whether or not the boy was alright.

“Oh my goodness!” Hermione cried out. “What’s going on in there?!”

Albus stared at the guarded doorway and wondered what was going on as well. There was an extreme flux of power pouring out of the bedroom and into their chambers. Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure from which boy it was coming from.

He glanced at Severus and tried to determine if the man knew what was going on, but Snape was too busy nursing the injuries he received when Lupin slammed into him, to give anything away. Not that Snape would give anything away, anyway. Severus wasn’t the Order’s best spy for nothing.

The Headmaster sighed woefully and for the first time, since making his decision on that moonlit evening, he regretted sending Harry into this snake’s den. When he made his decision, he had forgotten. He forgot how deeply hurt Harry was. How *alone* he was. He forgot how vulnerable the boy was. And how vulnerable pain made people become. But more than that. Dumbledore forgot how *sly* Slytherin really were.

He forgot that the Malfoys were the epitome of the Slytherin way of life.

And Dumbledore forgot that Draco Malfoy was the Prince of the Serpents.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Harry was trapped in, and reliving every bad experience he had ever lived through. His life with the Dursley’s, his fights with Malfoy, Death Eaters, and Voldemort, losing his friends and being tortured by them. The lies and half truths everyone told him about his family, and about his purpose. The screams of his parents as they died. The guilt he felt for Sirius’s death. Harry blamed himself for not being out there that night. For *refusing* to meet up with his godfather that night. Nothing was left out, but worse yet, his memories were made 100x worse because of Nalta’s horrifically nightmarish powers. Even Harry’s, once, happy memories were twisted into terrifyingly, fallacious, caricatures of the truth. While, Dumbledore kept omnisciently repeating that “he never asked” in a laughing and mocking tone.

He was in hell.

With no way of getting out.

Then if that wasn’t enough, he felt someone grab a hold of him, thus triggering his *worst* memory, and the *reason* why he refused to meet up Sirius that fateful night.

~~~~

Draco struggled against Harry’s attacks and pleas of “please don’t do this!” Malfoy could tell that even though those emerald eyes were open, they saw nothing of the real world. When Harry cried out a specific name, Draco instantly knew that Harry was lost in his worst memories yet.

Malfoy had never told anyone what happened to Harry. And to his knowledge, only three people knew of it, and one of them was dead.

Because he killed him.

Everyone believed that Draco killed Sirius Black as a retribution for his “god father” Severus.

But that was so far from the truth, it was almost funny.

Nevertheless, Draco allowed everyone to believe it, because at the time *he* wouldn’t even accept the truth himself. He didn’t want to acknowledge that he felt so possessive over Potter that he would kill someone who dared to touch him.

Because that was what truly triggered Draco’s Veela Fury. *That* was what made Draco mad enough to kill.

As Draco struggled to calm Harry down, he started remembering some of Sirius Black’s memories. The same memory Harry was fighting against. The memory of Potter being raped by the man he trusted as his second father.

Malfoy knew that Black had no clue to what he was doing to Potter. The raven-haired boy knew this as well, because the older wizard kept calling and moaning out James during the entire copulation. So Harry bared through it, and hid his face and his tears as he tried not to cry out. He couldn’t fight the older wizard off, partly because Sirius was more skilled at hand-to-hand, and partly because Harry wanted his godfather to be happy. Even if it cost him his own. After it was over, and when Sirius returned from his bout with insanity and finally saw Harry for who he was.... Harry still had to be strong. He couldn’t cry for himself, or for this betrayal, because he had to comfort Sirius.

Draco remembered watching those memories and watching Harry comfort the crying man, who was begging for his forgiveness. He watched Potter display his infamous, inner strength, as he held the man in his arms and whispered reassuring lies that it was okay. That *he* was okay. That the raw entry didn’t hurt that bad, and there wasn’t that much blood. Draco watched Harry wipe away Black’s tears and promise that it was all forgotten and things could go back to they way they were.

That was pretty much the last memory Draco stole from Sirius. He killed him soon after.

Malfoy didn’t regret killing Black, only the cruelty in which he did it. The man was completely batty. His insanity was the result of constantly being around dementors, during his12 year stay at Azakban. He hid his lucidity well, but not really. From the man’s own memories, Draco witnessed the lapses of sanity which left him lost in twisted memories. Sirius often spoke of the past as if it were the present, and Draco lost count of how many time he called Harry, James or actually believed that the son was the father.

Ever since that night, Draco wondered why Dumbledore allowed Black onto school grounds. For one, he was a danger to purebloods! Especially him! Seeing how Black honestly thought that by offing him, he would truly win back Harry’s trust. But it was more than that, Draco couldn’t understand why Dumbledore would allow *Harry* to sneak out and meet with Black. And unsupervised at that! He may not have sold out the Potters to Voldemort, but nonetheless, Black *wasn’t* stable. Draco was sure that Dumbledroe could see that! But yet, he allowed Harry to be in danger.

Again.

The Blacks were extremely powerful because of their selective, and purely magical breeding. *Everyone* knew that, and feared them because of it. However, what most didn’t know was that their superior power also came from the infidelity of Draco’s grandfather, Incubus. Over the centuries, the fallen angel had fathered many children with them. Sometimes even –when the mood hit him– he would leave the palace, his spouse Succubus, and his royal children, and create a “family” of sorts with not only the Blacks, but with many other families as well. However Incubus would, mostly, use his demonic power to change his shape to impersonate lovers and impregnate women. Nonetheless, Draco’s immortal grandfather had a particular liking for the Black clan. He practically cultivated the Black family tree from his own seed. Sometimes, Incubus would even father the children of his children. Most of the Black’s didn’t even know that they were descendants of Emperor of Veela’s. Those who did, were sworn to secrecy. As a result, the Black line was extremely powerful. Many of them had more than one animagus form. Each one greater and more deadly than the next. Some were even so powerful, they could shape shift like the Emperor himself.

However, Draco was extremely powerful himself. He was a true, and legitimate, heir of *both* Incubus and Succubus, and a member of the Highest Royal House. Therefore, he was much more powerful than those who were born from just one. Even if the incestuous relationship was many times over.

So he was told, so he will always believe.

Nonetheless, Draco didn’t want to fight them.

Any of them.

A painful scratch across his left cheek brought Draco out of his thoughts, and he refocused his attentions on Harry. He couldn’t even imagine what the other boy was going through. Personally, the young prince had never experienced the brunt of Nalta’s power. The spell he and his sister sung, to summon the Nightmares, left them immune. So Malfoy didn’t truly understand how horrible it was. But Harry was fighting him as if his life depended on it. So Draco, had to be careful as he dodged Potter’s clawed hands, punches, kicks, slaps, pulls of his long and glorious hair, and painful bites. BITES!!! Yes, Potter was biting him like some sort of rabid beast! Unfortunately for Draco, most of the assaults hit its intend mark.

Therefore, Draco summoned some of his demonic strength, and in doing so, his crystal eyes shifted into silver snake-like slits. He then grabbed Potter’s hands in a gentle, but firm, grasp, straddled the boy’s thighs, and pulled Harry up and into a sitting position. With Harry’s hands trapped in a tender vice grip, in between both of their chest, Draco used his other hand to force Harry’ head against his chest. He was forcing Potter to take comfort in him because he knew that there was no other way of getting through to the boy.

It took *many* long minutes, but, eventually, the raven-haired boy finally started to calm down.

~~~~~~

Harry, didn’t know when his nightmare started to subside. In truth, he didn’t care. All he knew was that the nightmares were gone, and he was surrounded in the comforting scent of vanilla.

The scent of his angel.

Red rimmed, tear swollen, emerald eyes slowly pried themselves open, only to look upon the face of Draco Malfoy. The blond boy was looking down at Harry with silver-slit eyes and with a face which was carefully void of emotion. However, his face itself was marred and completely fucked up. Draco had four scratches on his left check which traveled from his eye to his mouth, his bottom lip was split, and he had a purple looking bruise on his right cheekbone.

Emerald eyes widened in shock. But before Harry was able to ask if he was the one responsible for Draco’s injuries, Malfoy leaned forward, a bit, and rested his bruised cheek against Harry’s tear streaked one and whispered

“Mea culpa.”

The blond then tenderly hugged Harry –with the arm he used to weigh the boy’s head against his chest– and spread his wings and cocooned them around the both of them.

The raven-haired boy just sat there. Dumbfounded, and allowed himself to be held. He didn’t struggle for freedom, even though Draco was straddling his legs and still trapped his hands between them. He didn’t try break free from the awkward hug or the winged enclosure. He was too shocked to do anything because Draco Malfoy had just apologized to him.

Draco....Evil arsed Draco Diabolis Malfoy had just said SORRY.

And meant it.

Harry had known Draco for many many years and NEVER, not even once, not even rumored, had Draco Malfoy ever said sorry. To ANYONE! It was popular belief that Malfoy didn’t even have a conscience. The idea of Draco MALFOY apologizing was so unheard of, so unthinkable, that Harry was certain that it was some sort of apocalyptic sign.

While still holding the other boy, Malfoy took a deep. Just like Harry, Draco was too, lost in his own thoughts. Never had he seen Potter look so sad and completely dispirited. Never. Not once. And he had tried. Time and time again, he tried to hurt Potter that deeply, with jabs about his dead parents, or his friend’s poverty, or blood status. He concocted numerous pranks and ambushes. He even ostracized Harry from his friends. And still, Harry never looked broken. So extremely broken. Melancholy and lonely yes, but not broken. Not even after Cedric’s death. His rape, or Potter’s attempted suicide. Even then, Harry carried himself with a sense of graceful, yet tragic, strength. It was irritating and Draco hated him for it. However, Malfoy wasn’t the only one who hated Harry for it. It was Potter’s inner, and silent strength that fueled his Gryffindor Housemate’s rage and petty jealously. It was because Harry rarely let the true depth of his pain surface that allowed them to turn a blind eye to Harry’s inner turmoil.

But yet, he just opened himself to Draco.

Not that he had much choice during the nightmare, but after.... Potter could have gathered up that strength before he opened his eyes.

But he didn’t.

For some strange reason, he trusted Malfoy to see it.

Draco couldn’t understand why.

But he rarely understood the ways of Gryffindors. And Harry was the Heir of Gryffindor.

In spite of Draco’s incomprehension to *why,* when Harry opened his eyes and looked at him, the young prince saw so much hurt within its malachite depths. So much pain, buried away. So much of it, he caused. He and his family, friends and their beliefs....

Then, for Harry to look at him with trust, and with *concern*....

It didn’t make sense and something inside Draco broke.

And for the first time in his life, Prince Draco Diabolis Malfoy of the 7th House was ashamed of himself. It was an emotion completely foreign to him. It was a sickening and alien feeling which consumed him and made him feel like he wanted to cry. CRY!! Because he was SORRY! It was so embarrassing!

It didn’t make sense.

Repentance.

He’d heard about it. Even read about it in books. But he had never really believed in its power.

Until now.

Then, if being tormented with a repentant heart wasn’t enough, what made Draco’s self loathing 10x worse was when Harry displayed that inner strength of his, AGAIN and whispered back.

“I forgive you.”

And meant it.



tbc.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


N.A. Hooray! I finally finished this part of this extremely long chapter ^___^

I want to thank everyone who took the time to review my last chapter Thank you so much! It truly meant the world to me. I’ve been going through a lot of family stuff lately, so I thank you so much for your kind words. I even appreciated the mean reviews. ^_~ Its all good. I’m just honored that you took the time to say you dropped by my fic. Thank you sooooo much.

Now for those who truly love Sirius. I *am* sorry. I know a made him a bad guy. I’m sorry. In truth, when I first thought this part out, Ron was going to be the bad guy. Then Sirius, then Ron again. But then my reviews got me realizing that my original “forgive me chapter” wasn’t going to work. So I started leaning toward Sirius. I didn’t want to, but it was the logical choice. Then as if it were a sign of some sort Sirius, in OoTP, squicked me out. 0_o And the debate of who the bad guy was going to be was solidified for me, by canon.

Maybe it was just me, but when Sirius kept calling Harry James and stuff, and his bouts of craziness and immaturity....well... It kinda got me afraid of him. It also got me to thinking..... What if Sirius lived past that 5th year? Would he eventually be a danger to Harry? He might have been. He was really unstable. Who knows, one day he might have just truly forgotten that Harry was not his father and who knows what could have happened... My evil slash brain went into overload. ^_~

Anyway, this version of Sirius is just *one* of the many versions I have of Sirius. So please don’t be too angry with me. In other fics, I can find him adorable. ^_~ As long as he’s not to hateful to Snape.

Also, I hope this explained how Narcissa is a Black. She really isn’t, but she is because of her father. I’ll explain more on that later.

Oh, I promise that Draco is not going to become all fluffy. He is an ass. I love him as an ass. You will see that the *only* thing he is sorry for is causing *Harry* pain. He doesn’t even care about anyone else he’s destroyed. Harry is pretty much the *only* one who can tug his heart strings. Draco loves his family, and cares about his friends, but Harry is the heart that he never knew he had. ^___^ He’s already killed for Harry, saved his life twice, and that’s *before* he realized how important Harry was to him. ^_~

And Draco, on the other hand, is the pillar of strength Harry can lean on. Harry doesn’t have to be strong and infallible with Draco. He doesn’t have to be The-Boy-Who-Lived. He doesn’t have to be the strength of the Wizarding World. No, he can lay his head on Draco’s shoulder and take refuge and find comfort in the strong arms of a demon prince. ^_~ Subconsciously, Harry knows this and that is why he is emotional around Draco. Whether it is in anger or sorrow, Draco tugs Harry’s heart strings too, ^_~ and breaks through Harry’s level headedness in a way that not even Voldemort can.

They are perfect for each other. (happy sigh)

Again, I want to thank everyone who reads this fic and a special thanks to those of you who took the time to review and encouraged me to get this chapter out. THANK YOU!! I love you all so much!!
hugs
babychan