Black Eden

Chapter 6 - Uncle Lleonart Was A Flamer

(I\'m Americanizing HP! AAAH! It\'s a sign of the apocalypse! DUCK AND COVER! ... or not. Whatever. Brit-pick if you wish, I\'m still going to write like this unless there\'s something that MUST be changed. Like, if I said \"jack off\" instead of \"wank\". Now that, my evil minded whatsits, is something that must never be. I spell like an American. I use Z\'s instead of S\'s. But you might notice things like me saying \"centre\" instead of \"center\", as I am being Canadianism-ized. That isn\'t a word. But whatever. Enjoy! Oh, and I have no idea about Draco\'s family and lineage and whatnot...I make it up...)


***


Draco Malfoy made it back to his room without any difficulties. Still beneath the shimmering cloak (that Draco noted smelled like Harry; cinnamon and soap, and something - or someone - else) Draco crawled into his own Slytherin green bed complete with the pure 100% cotton green sheets with silver edging and a matching silver pillowcase. He\'d never had so much sex in one period of time, and with such an almost willing partner. Harry was still in denial about his submissiveness, but Draco planned to remedy that. He could be very persuasive, especially if you gave him access to a cock ring and some whipped cream.

His entire body ached, a kind of slow, dull ache that wasn\'t needing immediate attention. Pulling out his neatly folded clothes is his perfectly organized trunk, he shed the horrific clothing he was wearing and piled the cloak and all on his bed. Satisfied, in more ways than one, he turned and walked to the bathroom to take his own shower, wondering what Harry was doing and if Harry actually COULD sit properly on a broom but was only complaining to agitate the blond.


***


\"Harry?\" Ron\'s voice called out through the steam in the boys shower, where Harry was currently contemplating life.

\"In here, Ron,\" Harry called back, a bit worried at his friend seeing him with the various bites and bruises all over him. Ron\'s naked form parted the steam and the black haired boy squinted to look at his friend. \"When\'s the game?\"

\"You forgot?!\" Harry nodded, Ron sighed. \"It\'s at half nine. In an hour! Get your ass in gear! We can\'t lose to Slytherin else we\'re out!\" Ron was the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, after all. Ron wouldn\'t take it as a compliment, but sometimes he sounded to Harry like his mum, minus the swearing. Harry turned the taps off and stole a towel from the rack to quickly cover his body. He was a bit late.

\"HARRY!\" Ron\'s shout stopped him in his quickly fleeing tracks. \"Who\'ve you been snogging?\" Harry sighed, knowing that the topic would eventually come up. He turned his body half around and looked at his friend after finding his glasses and placing them lightly on the bridge of his nose.

\"Finish your shower, then come back in the room and I\'ll tell you. Alright?\" Ron nodded, then looked thoughtful.

\"What about \'Mione?\" Damn, Harry thought. \'Mione would probably be alright with his preference, and maybe even learn to get along with Draco - they were alike in many ways. Both seemed to reprimand him quite a bit. However, Ron was likely to kill Draco and/or Harry as soon as he found out.

\"Yeah ... get her, too. I\'m afraid you\'ll kill me without her ... \" Harry smiled weakly and disappeared through the door. Ron shook his head and grabbed the soap.


***


Harry was dressed in his under robe and trousers, as it was a bit cold outside for flying and he had mastered the warming charm, but found that it didn\'t seem to work hundreds of feet in the air. So he wore layers. A female voice floated in, \"Harry?\", and he shrieked a bit as he was pulling on his trousers.

\"Hermione, oh, yeah, hey,\" he stumbled over the words. Hermione stepped into the seventh year boys dormitory and her nose visibly wrinkled in disgust. Harry would readily admit that his dorm mates were not th best housekeepers, nor was he. But honestly, it wasn\'t all that bad. Harry guessed that the girls dorms were clean and prim and perfect all the time. Harry would never understand girls.

\"HARRRRRRRRRY!\" Ron yelled up the stairs.

\"WHAT?!\" Harry yelled back, not moving from his spot.

\"Honestly! Why don\'t one of you go to the other instead of yelling?\" Hermione\'s input only got a sour glance tinted with exasperation from Harry.

\"QUID - hey! Give me back that letter! AAAAARGGH!\" Ron\'s voice floated loudly away from anywhere in the vicinity of the dorm room door. Harry checked the clock next to his bed; he had 7 minutes until he had to be on the Quidditch pitch.

\"Sorry, \'Mione!\" he called as he made his way out the door while putting the rest of his uniform on.

My bum hurts, he thought as he grabbed his broom from the broom shed and went to the Gryffindor locker room. He didn\'t like changing in front of the others, as he felt that they were looking at him or they would think he was looking at them - it was just better if he changed in his room.

Damn you, Draco! he thought as Ron started shouting and yelling at them as they lined up on the field across from the green and silver clad Slytherin team, my bum REALLY hurts!


***


When Draco saw Harry subconsciously rub his rear end a bit before mounting onto his broom, his smirked evilly; the Malfoy Smirk. It really ought to be patented or copy written, something like that. Although, it did look awfully good on Harry ... which lead Draco to the train of thought of WHY Harry was smirking as he flew to and fro in the sky among cheering and the rest of the Quidditch game going on around them, that both chose to ignore.

Sparkles of gold shot up from directly beneath Draco, sunlight hitting the snitch, and he dove, almost colliding with Harry in the process who had also seen the shimmer of wings.

Neither caught it as it zipped away from sight, leaving the two boys to chase after it.

\"You should give up now, sweetie pie,\" Harry called through the swirling clouds that they had somehow found themselves in. Draco noted that the air was quite a bit thinner and it was getting more difficult to breathe.

\"No way, Potter!\" Draco called as he fell into a nose dive, positive he had seen the shimmery gossamer golden wings.

\"NO! WAY!\" Harry screeched and quickly diving after the blond. Draco had not won a game against Gryffindor with Harry as Seeker, ever. He didn\'t know how the dynamics of the game would change since they were mates. Would it change at all? It seemed that Harry wasn\'t exactly going easy on him, he found, as he abruptly pulled to a halt around 50 feet in the air as he no longer saw the snitch, and felt a swoosh of air ruffle his robes behind him. He turned to look at Harry, who did the Malfoy Smirk, and zoomed away in the opposite direction, upwards. This gave Draco a nice view of Harry\'s posterior, while even though it was covered in the under robes as the outer robes billowed out, they clung to his arse. Mmmm. Harry-arse. Draco followed upwards, after a while losing sight of the dark haired Seeker.

Draco slapped himself in the head, which actually hurt more than he\'d intended. He was wearing leather gloves. He really had to concentrate on the snitch, and NOT. HARRY\'S. BUM. Even if it was the nicest bum imaginable. Ever. The thing fantasies were made of. Draco backhanded himself again. The snitch. Right.

\"I REPEAT ... (blah blah something or other, Draco thought as he heard the announced commenting on the game) ... BLUDGERS!\" Hmm. Now where was that snitch? The Gryffindorkies hadn\'t erupted into applause yet, so he hadn\'t caught the stupid little winged ball. Yet. Draco knew it was futile to try and actually catch the snitch ... but he loved flying. If he could grow wings, which was probably magically possible now that he thought about it, he would probably be the happiest winged Malfoy there ever had been. Except for his great uncle - twice removed and disowned - Lleonart, who\'d been an illegal animagus and was also a phoenix. A flaming phoenix, that on several occasions had frightened the living hell out of Draco when he burst into flame and disintegrated into ashes. Lleonart always said he felt younger and rejuvenated after a \"flaming\" as he called it. The man was totally loony, but he\'d been one of Draco\'s relatives that he LIKED. Unlike the bitch that was his aunt Bellatrix Lestrange, his mother\'s second cousin. Draco had heard that Bellatrix had killed Sirius Black, and that she was GOING to be rewarded at some point, if the Ministry ever got around to it. Even if she did kill him during a DE-raid-thingy, he was an escapee and she most definitely killed him. Draco mentally threw his hands up. Politics! Government! What a crock.

Great Uncle Lleonart had been disowned, and then discretely \"gotten rid of\" after he had reportedly been seen shagging with a half blood. A male half blood, at that. With Lucius in Azkaban, with no real hopes of escaping from the Kiss he was bound to be deemed suitable to receive, Draco was not worried about his and Harry\'s relationship getting him disowned or killed by his family. Now, that lunatic, Voldemo -

Draco didn\'t finish the thought.

He was struck from behind, something solid connected with the base of his neck. He was thrown off of his broom into the clouds below, the fragmented thought floated to him through his shock induced state; Angels rest on clouds. I wonder if one\'ll save me.

Draco\'s universe grayed and frayed at the edges, before his eyes involuntarily closed and nothingness consumed him.


***


Harry Potter. Gryffindor Seeker. Dumbledore\'s Golden Boy. The to-be Slayer of the Dark Lord. One of the four most powerful wizards in the world, in the ranks of Albus Dumbledore and Voldemort. A Gryffindor through and through with Slytherin characteristics. Richer than half of the pureblood families.

Draco Malfoy\'s mate and lover.

Harry Potter was all of these things and yet he looked down hopelessly, unable to move, as he saw his mate plummet from the sky down into the wispy clouds. He did not notice the errant bludger that had knocked Draco off of his broom zeroing in on him and following his every movement. Nor would he have cared. His mates mind called to him ... then nothing. Nothing was coming from Draco.

Harry dove, in what later would be recorded as the world\'s most vertical feint from the highest point ever during a Quidditch game, in the history of the world.

He was gaining speed, his glasses flew off at one point but he could still blurrily see, tears streaming down his face from the wind whipping his hair into his eyes and the fact that Draco\'s mind was not in his. No communication. At all times there was almost a hum, a subtle indication that Draco was there, in his mind. The hum, the distinct part of his mind that Draco dominated over and had claimed as his own personal space to reside in, was no longer there. Empty.

Inches away from Draco\'s fluttering green robe. Hands stretched and muscles protested. Harry could not go nearer without the risk of Draco falling directly on to his broom, thus dooming them both to fall the remaining length to the hard, cold, muddy ground. That was not soft, if Harry remembered correctly.

His fingers caught the fabric and his mind screamed \"YES!\" while his body protested the action and he became unbalanced on his broom, precariously perched on the front end.

Something slammed into his back.

He was knocked off of his broom to fall forwards onto Draco\'s unconcious body.

Something slammed into his head. Then into his side. He was tipped over, off of Draco, and the solid mass of the now bloodied bludger kept repeatedly hurling itself at Harry.


***

Draco\'s fall had been noted by a few, one being Potions Master Severus Snape. He quietly swished his wand and did a slowing spell, that would take effect as Draco neared the ground. A cushioning charm was placed as well. Severus could tell that Draco was not concious, from the way his body twirled and twisted in the air heavily.

After his job was done, protecting his godson, he turned his attention back to the rest of the game.

No one saw Harry\'s descent to the ground.

***

The impact was not felt by the recipient of broken bones and bruises. Harry had blacked out after the bloody (literally) bludger had rocketed into his temple, and into the back of his head, and then into his stomach. He could not breathe.

A piece of his spine was severed. His collar bone was broken. Left and right forearms fractured. Internal bleeding.

No, falling over a hundred feet from the sky was not good for the health.

Harry Potter, savior of the wizarding world, was bloodied and sprawled unconcious on the grounds of the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. And no one noticed.


Me-notes!

-- so? how was i? i updated more quickly! sooo?

-- i suppose you hate me for leaving him in this state, don\'t you?

-- i think ryu MIGHT HAVE A TEENY WEENY ITSY BITSY BIT in the next chapters or so. not positive. but he might!

-- REVIEWWWWWWWW!

and thank you to those who have!