The Unseen

Hoorah! It\'s time to reply to some reviews!!!



RyGirl824 - Draco says your apology will be accepted only if you allow him the simple pleasure of chaining you up in his basement and covering you with mint chocolate. He says his father has been a bit lonely as of late, and it\'s his birthday soon, you see...



RavenElfWitch - Hmm? Some conjecture about the Master already? Ooh...pray tell. I won\'t tell you if you\'re right or not, but I\'d love to hear your idea!! The other members of the Unseen will be popping back up again just before they go to Hogwarts, so I\'m sure you\'ll get your fill of them. James and Harry\'s relationship is going to be an enigma for a while yet, but I\'d still love to hear your projection on it...^_^ And yes, James\' original appearance was in an older story of mine: The Malfoy Chronicles. You should read it! It\'s not a Dramione, but it was rather nice for my first fic, and still holds a rather poignant place in my heart.



smurphy - I\'m glad you enjoyed. Draco is going to be an interesting character to write in this story. These characters are going to be interesting in general. This is the first time I\'ve tried the mature angle. My Dramione stories have had them at a much younger age. Draco has been married once before, and has a daughter (Draca) and a son (Pheonix). He\'s established his heirs, so he is free to pursue a real relationship. Lucius as the master, you say? Hmm...I can\'t say...



LolaDiBlack - James absolutely purred when you asked him. He says he would love to be your valentine. He also requests that you meet him in the Astronomy tower with a jar of cashews and some chocolate icing. I\'m not quite sure what he has in mind, but I\'m sure it\'ll be interesting. He can be such an animal! (I know, I know...) Steamy sex and cuteness? Hmm...I might be able to oblige in later chapters...



Lady_Winterheart_Z.C. - Oh yay! A new reviewer! I\'m so very glad you are enjoying the story so far. I look forward to having you in for the long run, and I do hope that you\'ll be a faithful follower of this story. -_^



And now...a new chapter!!!

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James walked with his Aunt back up the stairs of his grimy flat building, his tail swinging serenely behind him. Many of his emotions could be judged by the movements of his tail. When he was calm, his tail swished slowly back and forth like a large black serpent. When he was angry, his tail was stiff save for the very tip, which twitched like a metronome. When he was happy, his tail swung to and fro like an excited canine’s. But the most dangerous time of all was when his tail was completely still. It meant he was literally seconds away from blowing his top. This final movement could likely be paired with his eyes dilating to mere black lines within his gold irises, and his fingers crooking in order to make better use of his hard, sharp, black nails.



His Aunt had been a bit shaky after Mr. Malfoy had helped her up. He had said something to her, too far away for James to fully hear, but it hadn’t sounded cruel, and he hadn’t smelled great fear or turmoil from his Aunt, so he assumed she had been frightened a bit by his presence. They’d shaken hands, which was a good sign… The old tethers of the past were falling away quickly. Perhaps there was still hope for his Death-Eater spawned friends.



He let down the wards to his flat, and led them both inside, closing the door behind him and pulling the strong wards back up. Hermione felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle a bit at the feel of such strong magic. She was certainly glad that James was on her side. He was a powerful ally, of that she could be sure.



She smiled a bit when she recalled her conversation with McGonagall. The older woman had all but begged her to take her position before Hermione had convinced her that she’d had her on the first ‘please.’ She was going to be the Transfiguration teacher! And the Gryffindor Head….



She was certainly qualified for both. Back when Ron was still rather accepting of her studies, she had received (in record time, of course) her Master’s degree in Transfiguration. She had done some further study of the field, being quite interested in it, before she had started on another degree. She had gotten halfway through her Charms degree when Ron had put his foot down, and her formal education had come to an end. She was allowed, thankfully, to keep her books and indulge in private study, but no longer could she stay all day at the Merlin Community College. And of course she had been a Gryffindor herself, so…..



She looked up as James plopped himself on his reformed sofa, and pulled a small rectangular box from what seemed like thin air. Her eyes widened a bit when she recognized the remote controller for a television. James snapped his fingers, and a small panel in the wall opened, revealing a rather large flat-screen television. In awe, she wandered over and sat down beside him. He glanced over with a grin as he flipped the television on.



“A friend of mine toys around with Muggle artifacts in order to adapt them to the Magical world. He’s quite the technical…uh…wizard.” He said, and Hermione giggled a bit at his horrible joke. He wouldn’t tell her his friend’s name, though, no matter how hard she pressed. He was positive she didn’t need to know that the illegitimate child of Peter Pettigrew was a genius with Muggle technology.



After a bit of comfortable silence, James gently placed the remote into Hermione’s hands, surprising her.



“I have some private business to attend to.” He said. Her face lost a little color, and he could smell the sharp scent of fear. “All I need you to do is stay here. This little flat might not look like much, but it’s as safe, if not safer, than Hogwarts itself. Voldemort himself couldn’t get in here with an army of his Death Eaters. The only thing you need to know is not to open the door for anyone. If I know O’Connell, then your presence here has been spread over Knockturn Alley faster than fire consumes dry timber. I don’t care what they say, or who they say they are. Don’t open the door. You’ll be fine.” He said, noting the way her eyes had dilated in absolute terror. She really didn’t want to be alone, but she didn’t need to be with him when he made a trip to go see good ol’ Uncle Ron.



“P-please don’t st-stay gone l-long.” She sniffled softly. James felt a band tighten around his heart.



“I won’t….scout’s honor.” He said, and gave her a lopsided grin. Her trembling breath caught in her throat at the resemblance to his father in that moment. Despite his….accessories….James was very much his father’s son. She relaxed a bit, knowing that Harry would never abandon her, and by extension neither would James. They were both loyal.



“I trust you.” She said simply. James puffed up a bit with pride. It wasn’t often that this was said to him. Most people, in fact, didn’t trust him. But the simple faith she had put in him bound him to her even more vehemently. He would not forsake her….he would not fail her.



~~



James stood outside his Aunt and Uncle’s home, crouched low in the bushes. He could see movement in the house, and assumed it was his uncle Ron. Well…at least he wasn’t dead……yet.



With the stealth of a true Slytherin, and a creature of prey, James skulked through the shadows at the side of the house. The house was a lovely little bricked building, with a sickeningly cheery patch of flowers out front, and a new mail box at the end of the little graveled driveway. This house was out in the country, tucked away from neighbors and the public eye. James felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up at the thought of no one being able to hear his Aunt cry for help in the middle of the day.



He climbed a patch of lattice-work on the side of the house, his fingers getting pricked with the climbing roses that had been planted there. He could fly up, of course, but the flap of his wings when they caught air was too loud for his comfort. Besides…there was something distinctly satisfying about sneaking into the house through an upstairs window.



As soon as he came into the room he regretted it. He was in their bedroom, and his nose was assaulted with all sorts of smells. There was the unmistakable scent of sex first and foremost. He’d known the scent from early on…he smelled it on his parents all the time. Strangely, though, it didn’t bother him as much as he thought it should.



He smelled fear and anger. Those two were a combination that shouldn’t be together in the bedroom, because he didn’t delude himself as to what it meant. His uncle used sex as a punishment as well. The seedy bastard!

He caught a faint whiff of alcohol as well. Drunken fuck… James crept down the carpeted stairs, and stiffened when he heard the smash of glass, and someone cursing.



“…the slag!”



James’ eyes narrowed a bit and, his tail flicking a bit at the tip, he pressed close to the wall and approached the noise. His uncle was standing in the kitchen, staring at what appeared to be a wine bottle smashed on the floor, the red liquid spread obscenely over the floor like thin blood.



His uncle was a dominating figure. He was tall and muscular, solidly built, and stood with his feet apart. His bright hair caught the light comically, glowing the color of fire.



“I’ll kill her!”



James’ fingers crooked at the vehement expression. There was no bloody way that his uncle would do anything to his Aunt! James would curse himself later for his next blatant actions.



He stepped from his hiding place, his hackles raised, his lips pulled back from his teeth.



“You won’t.” he said. His uncle, impossibly fast, had whirled, his wand pointed right at James. He seemed to falter for a moment, unsure of why James was there.



“What are you talking about?” Ron asked. James was silent, sizing up his opponent. James noticed Ron doing the same, his cold blue eyes darting slightly as he assessed his own advantages in this house.



Ron had a neatly trimmed goatee that gave off an air of maturity to his otherwise boyish freckled face. His hair was cut short and neat, but his clothes were a mess. He had a large bruise on the left side of his face, still crusted with a bit of brown dried blood. His uncle, the disgusting slob, had either just woken, or was just stewing in his own anger for the past several hours.



“I know.” James said simply. Ron’s comparatively calm face twitched, annoyed.



“Well that won’t do at all…” Ron said, his wand still pointed firmly. Without warning, he shot off a silent Stunner, which James neatly deflected with his palm. The spell dispersed in a pretty shower of sparks in front of James’ eyes, and he was taken by surprise when his Uncle physically charged him. He had been expecting a duel…not a fist fight.



James was tackled, but he used his Uncle’s momentum to throw him clean into a flip, knocking him neatly on his back. He rolled, firing curses off at his nephew as fast as they would leave the tip of his wand. James dodged deftly, his wings pressed close to his back as he danced between the bright lights of the spells. They were to their feet, each casting and blocking spells in a dangerous rainbow of colors. They moved through the kitchen, and into the library, James making a half-aware observation that it was well-stocked for a personal library.



There was the smell of burnt leather and paper as the spells flew. James felt a horrible sting in his shoulder when a book fell from the shelves and struck him with its corner, but he wouldn’t allow the discomfort to distract him. But a mad gleam crossed his uncle’s face, and he pulled his wand back.



“Carpe Retractum!” he hissed, and threw his wand forward, a tendril of orange magic shooting forward and hissing past James’ head. James moved his head automatically, and sidestepped.



“You missed.” He hissed angrily, his palms glowing with unspent magic. Ron grinned like a cat that had cornered a mouse.



“Did I?” he asked, and pulled with all of his might. James whirled around in time to see one of the huge bookcases coming down around him. He tried to jump out of its deadly path but he was caught in the middle. He screamed as the heavy wood crushed him to the floor, pinning him awkwardly. There were corners of books digging into him, and one arm was completely stuck beneath him, the other spread out in front of him as he’d tried to escape.



Fortunately for James, he was very sturdy. His bones were infused with the strength of a dragons’, and the only damage he would be facing was flesh wounds. He hadn’t felt anything break, despite the stifling weight of the shelf.



Ron knelt in front of his nephew, observing the way his wings were pinned. James gave a pained cough and opened his eyes, looking up at Ron. He gave a weak swipe at him with his free hand, but Ron stepped back easily.



“How the mighty have fallen. Let’s see…this shelf is extremely heavy…even with your strengthened bones, your innards are being pressed without mercy. I think…for all your strength and durability, you will have the breath crushed out of you in a few hours. In the meantime…by the way you reacted I’m going to assume you’ve got my property in your custody. Your little hovel is famous in the Alley. But I’m quite aware of its drawback. If she opens the door willingly, then she’s mine.”



James struggled furiously against the heavy shelf, but only managed to get himself more awkwardly positioned beneath the books and wood. He gnashed his teeth a few times, smoke coming in tiny puffs. He looked up at his uncle, sweat starting to bead on his forehead.



“Don’t hurt her.” He gasped. He saw the boot coming before he felt it. He saw stars when his uncle kicked him in the face, and tasted the tangy blood in his mouth.



“I will do what I want with that wayward whore!”



James was left alone under the bookshelf, his breath coming in labored puffs. His lower half, and the arm that was pinned beneath him was starting to go numb, and he needed some water. Damnit! He let his head fall forward with a thump, his breath stirring the pages of a nearby book. He could feel the black blooming at the edge of his sight, and he let out a soft whimper. He’d failed her. If she opened that door, she was fucked. Probably in more ways than one. Please let her have more sense than to open that door.



He prayed for a good ten minutes, all the while his sight getting darker. Fuck it all! He’d be damned if he died this way. When he finished his prayer, he turned his free hand palm up, and concentrated hard.



“Expecto Patronum Minimus.” he whispered. A tiny, silvery dragon appeared in his hand, and he began recording a message through it. He did this four times, and then fell limp, exhausted.



This time he let unconsciousness take him, and his eyes closed.

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Uh oh. Who did he send those Patronuses to, I wonder? Is Ron going to be able to get Hermione to open the door? Will James be all right? Hmm...You\'ll have to tune in next time to find out. Same bat time, same bat network!!



You\'ve read, now review and/or rate. Better yet....do both. It would mean oh-so-much to me. Pwease? 0_0 *Puppy eyes*