Forgotten Lullaby

Title: Forgotten Lullaby

Author: WhimsicalBalderdash

Beta(s): None

Fandom: Harry Potter

Rating: M

Pairing: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle(Lord Voldemort); Severus Snape/Draco Malfoy/Remus Lupin (more to be announced at a later date)

Genre: AU, Romance, Yaoi/Slash

Word Count: 1,478

Warnings: Slash (m/m sex), graphic violence, character death (not HP/TR). Dumbledore, Ron bashing.

Summary: Harry Potter has given up. Beaten to an inch of his life during the summer before his sixth year at Hogwarts, he retreats into his mind in an effort to escape the heavy demands placed on him. There, he finds a refuge in a surprising place. There he receives an offer that he simply can't refuse. But when Dumbledore tells him that this is the dark lord attempting to manipulate and control him, will he ignore the comforting lullaby of the darkness that holds him, or will he delve deeper for the answers he never wanted to face?

Notes: Enjoy Draco. He's rather different in my story. Snobby, spoiled, absolutely. But he does adore his tasty Sev with a side of smokin' hot wolf.

Disclaimer: Please see the first chapter…I hate repeating myself.

-(-)-

He should have known the other shoe would drop. Waking up on the ninth day, the sun had been shining through the surprisingly dust-free curtains cheerfully. Throughout the week, he'd noticed that the house had become cleaner, neater, with just a little more order to it than the day before.

Either way, the sun had been shining, the birds had been surprisingly pleasant in their bright and cheery twittering, and he'd woken up on his own rather than having some snarky Potion's Master attempting to feed him more potions. Or Remus trying to feed him more food.

He'd be surprised if he hadn't gained a stone in the short time he'd been there.

Sitting up in bed, Harry had gone through the motions of readying himself to climb out of it and shuffling to the bathroom. He had bright hopes for the day, thinking about maybe attempting to finagle a visit into the garden's he'd seen briefly. His pain levels were tolerable at the moment, and he desperately wanted to go outside and feel the sun on his face. Despite his pain levels, however, his knee was still severely bruised and about the size of a melon. Potions could only do so much to rid the physical indications of the loss of mobility and damage to his knee, though it certainly helped the pain levels.

Remus had brought in a rather rough cane for him to use until they could get him properly fitted for one, and Harry had been slowly learning how to work and walk with it. He wondered briefly if he might put in for one of the nifty cane things that Malfoy Sr. carried with him before he set his feet on the cold floor, leaned on the cane he had and hobbled his way to the bathroom. Snape had managed a kind of spell that would keep his knee able to move, but still support the joint so that he could walk on it sooner than usual. He was grateful for that, as if Snape hadn't done it, he'd still be bedridden and probably bedridden for months.

After a shower, Harry struggled into the slacks that had been left out for him, and tugged on the jumper that he'd commandeered from the old chest of drawers in his room. He assumed it was Snape's, as it was long, and he had to roll the sleeves up. However, it wasn't black, it was a dark navy blue. Despite the fact that it was summer, he found himself cold in the house. When he'd mentioned the temperature to Remus, he'd been told that Snape kept the house at a specific temperature so that he didn't have much difference between his quarters and the home; that and the fact that it helped keep potions better, which he'd reasoned out on his own.

Limping to his room again, Harry stuffed his feet in the slippers that had mysteriously popped up while he was in the shower. Warm and cozy slippers, he thought with a slight grin, and began his way to the library.

It was 9:22 a.m.

Sitting in the plush, overstuffed chair that sat next to the fireplace, which was sparking and glowing cheerfully, Harry read. He'd developed a penchant for this chair in particular as it was ugly as sin, but the comfiest one in the whole house, with an equally ugly stool for his leg. He was suspicious that it had been conjured just for his use, but as that would put a new spin on a snarky Snape, he wasn't dwelling on it too long.

Either way, beside the chair was a table that currently had about eighteen books stacked on top of one another. The books varied by subject to subject, from a simple Potion's Primer designed for Pre-Hogwarts students to a Dissertation of the Elusive Nomari – which were a breed of magical beings that interested him because of their family system and the characteristics they were said to display.

With his leg propped up on the stool, and what looked to be a lovely breakfast that had mysteriously appeared beside his books, Harry opened the book he had almost finished from the previous evening – "Quick Spells for the Field – A Comprehensive Guide to Magical Triage Care" and began to dig in. Brushing crumbs from his blueberry scones (after having demolished the scrambled eggs with cheese and bacon that had been steaming on the plate) off of his jumper and the last page, Harry closed the book and raised it to set it on the table on the opposite side of the Ugly Comfy Chair TM. The books he'd placed there mysteriously disappeared within moments of his turning and becoming absorbed with the next book…he suspected at least an army of house elves had somehow taken residence here with all the changes that had happened.

His tea cup had been refilled without his knowledge, made just how he liked it, and his dirty plates had vanished as if the invisible maid had simply been waiting for the moment he'd turn his head away.

It was 11:09 a.m.

The floo flared to life, capturing Harry's attention with the book still in one hand and the teacup in the other. Verdant eyes were wide as they waited for the green flames to spit out the visitor and return to normal. Wait a moment.

Visitor?

Without giving Harry proper enough time to lurch out his chair and hobble to hiding in safety, the visitor stepped out of the flames gracefully (which so wasn't fair, Harry bemoaned as his grip tightened on his book). Pale blonde hair had grown just past his chin, and was loose around a pale face. Instead of being gelled back, however, it was loose, curling at the edges as if to cup the face in reverence. Dressed in a pair of smart, stylish black trousers, black dress shirt and what looked like dragon hide loafers, Draco Malfoy was the epitome of Pureblood High Society. Amused gray eyes wandered around the room, before alighting on Harry and going wide in surprise.

Just before the Comprehensive Guide to Magical Triage Care thwaped him on the forehead.

How was that for karma?

Before he could so much as think past, "500 points to Gryffindor!", however, Harry was startled into attempting to wiggle out of the chair and escape. The bellow of enraged pain that came from Malfoy was one that Harry would remember until the end of days. While at the end of days, he might look back on this and laugh so hard he'd end up at the pearly gates with a hernia, at the moment it was rather shocking to hear such a sound come from a boy who was only a few inches taller than he was.

"Bloody buggering hell!" Malfoy yelled, and Harry heard the distinct sound of a house elf 'eep' before a 'pop' was heard following it.

And then…well then it seemed that karma decided to get her just due on Malfoy for all the agony and belittling remarks he'd ever said to Harry Potter, as well as Harry Potter simply for living. As Malfoy lurched forward, Harry was still struggling to get up and yell for Snape or Remus (he certainly did not shriek as Snape would say later), and with him came his still hot tea in its porcelain cup. Which was jostled as Malfoy practically ran into him. Piping hot tea splashed on Malfoy's neck and chest, and onto Harry's hands and lower arms.

Both boys practically collapsed onto the plush carpeting of the library, screaming in pain as they tried to wipe away the stinging, burning liquid, which just made the pain worse. There was a rush of a breezy sensation, before both Remus and Snape were in the room, running to Harry and Draco (respectively). In the fall, Harry had smacked his knee into the edge of the table beside his armchair and was rolling about in agony, with tears streaming down his face. So much for the painkilling potions Snape had been giving him.

The sensation of his knee throbbing with teeth shattering agony was, quite possibly, one of the worst things he'd ever felt. Feeling arms move so that he was sitting up and cradled gently into a warm, solid chest, Harry could hardly breathe past the pain. His hearing tunneled out so that the only thing he could register was the frantic pounding of his heart, and his gasping, ragged breathing. His vision swam, and inky, gray blobs swam in front of what little he could see before he simply lost his grip on consciousness.

He hadn't even been awake a full three hours yet. If this was a prelude to the sort of contact he'd have with Lord Voldemort, he was so getting out while the getting was good…