Shared Intentions
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
8
Views:
9,177
Reviews:
77
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
8
Views:
9,177
Reviews:
77
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.
Chapter 3
A/N: You guys are just great! I love your lovely reviews and… *Squeals.* I am happy. Anyway, sorry I did not update yesterday. I had a busy day and I was tired. *Glares at her brother.* Sorry, no Harry/Draco talk here either. Next chapter though, I promise. Without further interruption, I give you, Draco!
Chapter 3
Pale light shifted in through large bay windows of the Malfoy Manor’s dining room, lighting the place normally only lit by candles. Only soft sounds filled the room, that of a boy eating. Pale blonde hair fell around his eyes, a dark, stormy gray in color. The boy? Draco Malfoy.
He sat in normal cloths, very muggle looking. A black shirt pulled over a thin frame, loose jeans adorning slim hips and legs, stopping at his ankles. His skin was pale, as always. No matter how much he stayed in the sun, he never tanned. His skin always as pale as the early morning sun, as white silk… As death.
Death, something he was very familiar with indeed. His father, as all suspected or knew, was a Death Eater. One of the Dark Lord’s most trusted, and so his family was under his constant eye. Meaning, what else could Draco do but become a Death Eater, if he liked it or not? They had waited off until he was older, at his mother’s pleading… Yet, it was something that would happen one day… That day had been two nights ago.
His father had said there would be a surprise, a great honor for him that night. He had just nodded, expecting a new broom or such, as his birthday had been some two weeks before. He had followed him, trusting completely his father… Until they had reached the place and he had found himself standing in the center of a circle of Death Eaters… That’s when the Dark Lord had appeared.
He looked not at all pleasant, and he had a cruel smirk that unnerved Draco. He stood there before him in customary robes, fighting off his first reaction, to run from the imposing figure that had fixed him in his gaze. The man… Or whatever he was, announced that night that Draco would become a Death Eater. Then… He had branded his arm.
It was one of the most painful experiences a young wizard can go through, the burning and searing that seemed to go past skin and tissue, down into the muscles, a deep mark that would not wear away. That would pain him each time the Dark Lord called… That allowed the other control.
After that, he had gone back home, to sleep in his bed. And he did. He slept and forgot of pain and darkness, almost free. And then the sun had invaded his eyes, wakening him. All had went well… Until that night, when his father and the Dark Lord came to his room… He shivered at the memory, stopping picking at the food before him on the table and standing. He suddenly was no longer hungry.
* * *
Draco lay in his bed, silk pajamas twisted about him as he tossed and turned. He sighed then, looking to the leather bound book on his desk. He lightly smiled, standing up and walking over to said desk, picking it up. It had been a gift, from his Mother for his birthday. She said she had found it at a Wizard’s shop as part of a set, the other sold earlier that morning. She suspected, as all mothers do at one point or another, he was not talking about any problems he had. So, she had bought him this. He smiled and thanked her, but threw it on his desk and never thought about it since… Until last night, that was.
Everything had happened and he had decided, why not to write? He could not talk to anyone so… Why not? As long as he kept it out of sight. He had written in it when he had woken up that morning and decided to do so again now, as the sun was setting. He grabbed a quill and ink and went to sit on his bed. He set the ink by his bed, opening it and dipping the quill in before opening it to write… But, something was off.
Something was written, and he did not write it. ‘Hello?’ He thought, examining the hand writing and drawn out question mark. That was… Odd. Who could have written it? No one else but the house elves were home, and they knew better. So… Who?
He paused for a moment before conveying these thoughts to paper.
/ Today was usual. Nothing happened at all, except maybe a little discomfort… As to be expected. My father and mother have yet to return… I don’t wonder where they are. Today alone was wonderful for me, even if I do not have much to look forward to… I rode my broom, practiced in the air a little, and had a generally good day… I also found writing in here… I did not do it. I wonder wh---/
The entry was cut short by the sound of footsteps down the hall. Draco closed the book quickly, pushing the book into a drawer in his night stand. He then put the cap on the ink and set the quill down, laying down and rolling over not to face the door.
His heart was racing, pounding in his chest as well as his ears. He heard the footsteps get closer. Three pairs, three voices now. His mother, his father, and-…
“Lucius, the boy is probably asleep. Let him rest for tonight.” His mother said, as always, wearing the mask of indifference Malfoys wore. Yet… True concern rang in her voice. “No, the boy is one of us now and shall behave as such. He will serve his Master, and be glad of it.” The cool cut of his father’s voice rang. A kind of sick, hissing laughter was all he heard in return. The kind of laughter he was all too familiar with and made his blood run cold. His mother started to speak, but stopped as the door to his room opened.
“Come.” Lucius said, and two sets of retreating footsteps were heard a moment later. The door shut, and so did Draco’s eyes, hard. He then felt the thing, no longer a proper Wizard, come forward and place a hand on his bare arm. It took all his will not to shutter and shy away from that hand, hand as cold as death that he could remember almost cutting into his warm skin, causing pain at the mere contact. Then he knew, tonight would be long and painful.
A/N: Sorry, no rape scene. Too few wanted to see it, so I had mercy on him.
Draco: *Sighs.*
Volde: *Pouts.*
I may add it later, maybe when I am done or bored, just for the heck of it, but now… Nope. Sorry.
Volde: *Smirks.*
Draco: *Pleads, shivers.*
Neko: Draco is too cute… Maybe not.
Anyway, keep reading and reviewing. You guys are my inspiration. And as always, so is my ever elusive (*Glares.*) muse, Kitten.
Chapter 3
Pale light shifted in through large bay windows of the Malfoy Manor’s dining room, lighting the place normally only lit by candles. Only soft sounds filled the room, that of a boy eating. Pale blonde hair fell around his eyes, a dark, stormy gray in color. The boy? Draco Malfoy.
He sat in normal cloths, very muggle looking. A black shirt pulled over a thin frame, loose jeans adorning slim hips and legs, stopping at his ankles. His skin was pale, as always. No matter how much he stayed in the sun, he never tanned. His skin always as pale as the early morning sun, as white silk… As death.
Death, something he was very familiar with indeed. His father, as all suspected or knew, was a Death Eater. One of the Dark Lord’s most trusted, and so his family was under his constant eye. Meaning, what else could Draco do but become a Death Eater, if he liked it or not? They had waited off until he was older, at his mother’s pleading… Yet, it was something that would happen one day… That day had been two nights ago.
His father had said there would be a surprise, a great honor for him that night. He had just nodded, expecting a new broom or such, as his birthday had been some two weeks before. He had followed him, trusting completely his father… Until they had reached the place and he had found himself standing in the center of a circle of Death Eaters… That’s when the Dark Lord had appeared.
He looked not at all pleasant, and he had a cruel smirk that unnerved Draco. He stood there before him in customary robes, fighting off his first reaction, to run from the imposing figure that had fixed him in his gaze. The man… Or whatever he was, announced that night that Draco would become a Death Eater. Then… He had branded his arm.
It was one of the most painful experiences a young wizard can go through, the burning and searing that seemed to go past skin and tissue, down into the muscles, a deep mark that would not wear away. That would pain him each time the Dark Lord called… That allowed the other control.
After that, he had gone back home, to sleep in his bed. And he did. He slept and forgot of pain and darkness, almost free. And then the sun had invaded his eyes, wakening him. All had went well… Until that night, when his father and the Dark Lord came to his room… He shivered at the memory, stopping picking at the food before him on the table and standing. He suddenly was no longer hungry.
* * *
Draco lay in his bed, silk pajamas twisted about him as he tossed and turned. He sighed then, looking to the leather bound book on his desk. He lightly smiled, standing up and walking over to said desk, picking it up. It had been a gift, from his Mother for his birthday. She said she had found it at a Wizard’s shop as part of a set, the other sold earlier that morning. She suspected, as all mothers do at one point or another, he was not talking about any problems he had. So, she had bought him this. He smiled and thanked her, but threw it on his desk and never thought about it since… Until last night, that was.
Everything had happened and he had decided, why not to write? He could not talk to anyone so… Why not? As long as he kept it out of sight. He had written in it when he had woken up that morning and decided to do so again now, as the sun was setting. He grabbed a quill and ink and went to sit on his bed. He set the ink by his bed, opening it and dipping the quill in before opening it to write… But, something was off.
Something was written, and he did not write it. ‘Hello?’ He thought, examining the hand writing and drawn out question mark. That was… Odd. Who could have written it? No one else but the house elves were home, and they knew better. So… Who?
He paused for a moment before conveying these thoughts to paper.
/ Today was usual. Nothing happened at all, except maybe a little discomfort… As to be expected. My father and mother have yet to return… I don’t wonder where they are. Today alone was wonderful for me, even if I do not have much to look forward to… I rode my broom, practiced in the air a little, and had a generally good day… I also found writing in here… I did not do it. I wonder wh---/
The entry was cut short by the sound of footsteps down the hall. Draco closed the book quickly, pushing the book into a drawer in his night stand. He then put the cap on the ink and set the quill down, laying down and rolling over not to face the door.
His heart was racing, pounding in his chest as well as his ears. He heard the footsteps get closer. Three pairs, three voices now. His mother, his father, and-…
“Lucius, the boy is probably asleep. Let him rest for tonight.” His mother said, as always, wearing the mask of indifference Malfoys wore. Yet… True concern rang in her voice. “No, the boy is one of us now and shall behave as such. He will serve his Master, and be glad of it.” The cool cut of his father’s voice rang. A kind of sick, hissing laughter was all he heard in return. The kind of laughter he was all too familiar with and made his blood run cold. His mother started to speak, but stopped as the door to his room opened.
“Come.” Lucius said, and two sets of retreating footsteps were heard a moment later. The door shut, and so did Draco’s eyes, hard. He then felt the thing, no longer a proper Wizard, come forward and place a hand on his bare arm. It took all his will not to shutter and shy away from that hand, hand as cold as death that he could remember almost cutting into his warm skin, causing pain at the mere contact. Then he knew, tonight would be long and painful.
A/N: Sorry, no rape scene. Too few wanted to see it, so I had mercy on him.
Draco: *Sighs.*
Volde: *Pouts.*
I may add it later, maybe when I am done or bored, just for the heck of it, but now… Nope. Sorry.
Volde: *Smirks.*
Draco: *Pleads, shivers.*
Neko: Draco is too cute… Maybe not.
Anyway, keep reading and reviewing. You guys are my inspiration. And as always, so is my ever elusive (*Glares.*) muse, Kitten.