Angel on the cover
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Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
16
Views:
8,998
Reviews:
43
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
16
Views:
8,998
Reviews:
43
Recommended:
1
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.
Eight
A/N: A little shorter than usual but I really liked this chapter
* * * *
“Peter!”
The rat faced man turned to face the fallen man with his head bowed.
“You owe me.”
Pettigrew began trembling, shaking his head in denial.
“I... If you escape ...the… the Dark Looord would….”
The dirty raven-haired man dragged himself into a sitting position. “I don’t want you to help me. I need you to get Draco out of here. He was captured when I was. Get him out of here, and consider our debt repaid.”
“I ...I can’t.”
Harry grabbed the hem of his robes with his good hand; the other arm hung uselessly at his side.
“Wormtail!”
Lily’s eyes set in James face, pleading with him to save another. He imagined they had looked that same way when his best mate pleaded for the lives of his wife and child, and then the surviving mother for her son.
Now all these years later, their son lay at his feet asking not for his own survival, but that of his lover. It was all in their blood, it seemed. That bloody selflessness that marked them Gryffindors; that bravery he lacked.
“You owe me a Wizard’s Debt. Please be an man uphold it.”
* * * *
He hadn’t had that dream in so long, not since he and Draco had bought their flat. The memory would dissipate at the physical confirmation that his lover was safe and unharmed in his arms.
But there was no lean figure to hold; no sweet scent of hair potion made specially by a surly Potions Master who thought it was beneath him to make; no silky, soft skin he loved to stroke like a beloved blanket before sleep overtook him. That part of his life was over. He had to stay away if he didn’t want tragedy to befall Draco.
He crawled out of bed and stepped into the shower, letting the cold water sluice his body, washing away the traces of sweat from an uncomfortable sleep.
He had told no one when the dreams started-- visions that hinted at hidden seer abilities. He’d scoffed at the idea; all he needed was a new “gift” to give his still existing fan club more to gush about. It was alright at first: He wouldn’t get them too often and they were easy to disregard. He would get random images of people he would see later, or snips of conversations he would have later. All easy to ignore.
He stepped away from the stream of water, reaching for the cheap shampoo he’d bought at the local cornerstore. Scrubbing hard into his scalp, he worked up the lather, trying to halt his wandering thoughts. The brunet inclined his head, using his hands to chase the soapy water from his dark locks.
Lowering his arms, he noticed his hands were tinged red from the temperature of the water. He stood transfixed at the color-- a shadow of that brilliant red that covered his hands in his nightmare.
It all came back to Draco. He had wondered why he never saw things relating to Draco in his visions. He’d seen Ron, Hermione, and some of the remaining Weasleys , but never his boyfriend. When the vision came, Harry had never regretted anything more.
It never changed and it was a vision that persisted: the blood on his hands, the pain filled expression on Draco’s face, the accusation from Snape that it all had been his fault. A barrage of images that ended with Draco’s motionless face.
He dried off, but made no motion to get dressed as he walked into the corner of his apartment. He opened the plain cabinet that held two bowls of liquid. Reaching for the Pensieve on the right, he brought it carefully to his chest, holding it in place with a forearm, and slowly closed the door.
He sat on the carpet, careful not to jostle any of the liquid inside. The stone felt cold on his unclothed lap, but he paid his discomfort no attention. He knew which memory he searched for: where it all really began. Where the tentative truce had been brought on by Snape’s news of Draco’s refusal to join Voldemort had begun to change into something more.
He leaned forward and lost himself in the memory.
* * * *
The feeling of disorientation faded gradually. He was in the dungeons in a classroom he’d forced Draco into. He walked up to where his younger self stood confronting Draco.
“Slytherins don’t do selfless acts, Potter. We watch out for ourselves. I’m not going to join your band of do-gooders.”
“Your mother was a Slytherin.”
“Don’t you dare speak about my mother!” he snarled.
“Why not? You’ve talked about mine. They’re the same now. They both were more than willing to die to save us from the same monster.” He grabbed Draco’s shoulder, forcing him against the wall. “Don’t you get it? You were more important to her than her own skin. Now honour her request and survive, damn you!”
He grabbed Draco’s chin in his hand and forced the blond to look him in the eye. Draco sucked in heavy breaths as he fought against the tears that flooded to his eyes at the mention of his mother. Harry’s grip slacked a bit as he dropped his chin on the top of the blond locks.
“All of the Slytherins are against you right now, at least those who have connections with Voldemort. There is no one there brave enough to stand up for you.”
“You mean foolish.”
“You always said that Gryffindors were heroically stupid. I’ll protect you.”
“I don’t need your protection, Harry. I just wanted you to care enough to offer it to me. That’s all I ever wanted.”
Harry reached forward, lightly tracing the lines of Draco’s face. He suddenly felt unreasonably jealous of the past self who could actually feel Draco’s warm skin, who leaned into to share their first kiss, who would always have this Draco, here in this moment forever.
He turned his back on them, needing to leave the memory.
“Enjoy it, because the only way you can protect him is by leaving,” was his parting message to that foolish, idealistic Harry, ignoring the tears on his cheeks.
* * * *
After getting dressed, Harry forced himself to go the nearest convenience store to buy the necessary items he needed. He went for the familiar aisles with the canned food and microwavable dinners, picking up his meals for the next week. He waited in line at the counter behind a woman with a small child who was demanding candy.
Whack!
The toddler had hit him over the head with something rolled up in his hand. With a glint of malice in those beady little eyes, he went to strike him again. Harry used his long unused Quidditch skills to catch the weapon.
“I’m sorry!”
He nodded, accepting the apology from the little monster’s creator. He unrolled the paper and glanced over the it. His eyes caught on a face he’d recognize anywhere.
His eyes ate the words as they flew across the page. He’d become a Muggle model, a successful one, and he’d been in New York for a show, but now he was missing!
Harry dropped his purchases on top of the rack of gum and candy, and hurried out of the store. He ran back to his flat, the irregular beat of his heart in perfect harmony with the horrible thoughts that flew through his head.
There was only one thing he could do.
The resounding crack signaling Apparition rang in the now silent room.
A/N :A/N: my mindset :
We all know Harry's experience with visions/dreams, he was trying to be noble, but hes going about it the wrong way. Let me know if you thought it was rushed, but I was trying to get this feeling of urgency going, because Harry is very stubborn and I needed him to stop dragging is feet. Unfortunately when he dosent drag his feet, he leaps without thinking .. thanks for reading this note, as you can see I owe my beta NoScrubs12345 a lot !
* * * *
“Peter!”
The rat faced man turned to face the fallen man with his head bowed.
“You owe me.”
Pettigrew began trembling, shaking his head in denial.
“I... If you escape ...the… the Dark Looord would….”
The dirty raven-haired man dragged himself into a sitting position. “I don’t want you to help me. I need you to get Draco out of here. He was captured when I was. Get him out of here, and consider our debt repaid.”
“I ...I can’t.”
Harry grabbed the hem of his robes with his good hand; the other arm hung uselessly at his side.
“Wormtail!”
Lily’s eyes set in James face, pleading with him to save another. He imagined they had looked that same way when his best mate pleaded for the lives of his wife and child, and then the surviving mother for her son.
Now all these years later, their son lay at his feet asking not for his own survival, but that of his lover. It was all in their blood, it seemed. That bloody selflessness that marked them Gryffindors; that bravery he lacked.
“You owe me a Wizard’s Debt. Please be an man uphold it.”
* * * *
He hadn’t had that dream in so long, not since he and Draco had bought their flat. The memory would dissipate at the physical confirmation that his lover was safe and unharmed in his arms.
But there was no lean figure to hold; no sweet scent of hair potion made specially by a surly Potions Master who thought it was beneath him to make; no silky, soft skin he loved to stroke like a beloved blanket before sleep overtook him. That part of his life was over. He had to stay away if he didn’t want tragedy to befall Draco.
He crawled out of bed and stepped into the shower, letting the cold water sluice his body, washing away the traces of sweat from an uncomfortable sleep.
He had told no one when the dreams started-- visions that hinted at hidden seer abilities. He’d scoffed at the idea; all he needed was a new “gift” to give his still existing fan club more to gush about. It was alright at first: He wouldn’t get them too often and they were easy to disregard. He would get random images of people he would see later, or snips of conversations he would have later. All easy to ignore.
He stepped away from the stream of water, reaching for the cheap shampoo he’d bought at the local cornerstore. Scrubbing hard into his scalp, he worked up the lather, trying to halt his wandering thoughts. The brunet inclined his head, using his hands to chase the soapy water from his dark locks.
Lowering his arms, he noticed his hands were tinged red from the temperature of the water. He stood transfixed at the color-- a shadow of that brilliant red that covered his hands in his nightmare.
It all came back to Draco. He had wondered why he never saw things relating to Draco in his visions. He’d seen Ron, Hermione, and some of the remaining Weasleys , but never his boyfriend. When the vision came, Harry had never regretted anything more.
It never changed and it was a vision that persisted: the blood on his hands, the pain filled expression on Draco’s face, the accusation from Snape that it all had been his fault. A barrage of images that ended with Draco’s motionless face.
He dried off, but made no motion to get dressed as he walked into the corner of his apartment. He opened the plain cabinet that held two bowls of liquid. Reaching for the Pensieve on the right, he brought it carefully to his chest, holding it in place with a forearm, and slowly closed the door.
He sat on the carpet, careful not to jostle any of the liquid inside. The stone felt cold on his unclothed lap, but he paid his discomfort no attention. He knew which memory he searched for: where it all really began. Where the tentative truce had been brought on by Snape’s news of Draco’s refusal to join Voldemort had begun to change into something more.
He leaned forward and lost himself in the memory.
* * * *
The feeling of disorientation faded gradually. He was in the dungeons in a classroom he’d forced Draco into. He walked up to where his younger self stood confronting Draco.
“Slytherins don’t do selfless acts, Potter. We watch out for ourselves. I’m not going to join your band of do-gooders.”
“Your mother was a Slytherin.”
“Don’t you dare speak about my mother!” he snarled.
“Why not? You’ve talked about mine. They’re the same now. They both were more than willing to die to save us from the same monster.” He grabbed Draco’s shoulder, forcing him against the wall. “Don’t you get it? You were more important to her than her own skin. Now honour her request and survive, damn you!”
He grabbed Draco’s chin in his hand and forced the blond to look him in the eye. Draco sucked in heavy breaths as he fought against the tears that flooded to his eyes at the mention of his mother. Harry’s grip slacked a bit as he dropped his chin on the top of the blond locks.
“All of the Slytherins are against you right now, at least those who have connections with Voldemort. There is no one there brave enough to stand up for you.”
“You mean foolish.”
“You always said that Gryffindors were heroically stupid. I’ll protect you.”
“I don’t need your protection, Harry. I just wanted you to care enough to offer it to me. That’s all I ever wanted.”
Harry reached forward, lightly tracing the lines of Draco’s face. He suddenly felt unreasonably jealous of the past self who could actually feel Draco’s warm skin, who leaned into to share their first kiss, who would always have this Draco, here in this moment forever.
He turned his back on them, needing to leave the memory.
“Enjoy it, because the only way you can protect him is by leaving,” was his parting message to that foolish, idealistic Harry, ignoring the tears on his cheeks.
* * * *
After getting dressed, Harry forced himself to go the nearest convenience store to buy the necessary items he needed. He went for the familiar aisles with the canned food and microwavable dinners, picking up his meals for the next week. He waited in line at the counter behind a woman with a small child who was demanding candy.
Whack!
The toddler had hit him over the head with something rolled up in his hand. With a glint of malice in those beady little eyes, he went to strike him again. Harry used his long unused Quidditch skills to catch the weapon.
“I’m sorry!”
He nodded, accepting the apology from the little monster’s creator. He unrolled the paper and glanced over the it. His eyes caught on a face he’d recognize anywhere.
His eyes ate the words as they flew across the page. He’d become a Muggle model, a successful one, and he’d been in New York for a show, but now he was missing!
Harry dropped his purchases on top of the rack of gum and candy, and hurried out of the store. He ran back to his flat, the irregular beat of his heart in perfect harmony with the horrible thoughts that flew through his head.
There was only one thing he could do.
The resounding crack signaling Apparition rang in the now silent room.
A/N :A/N: my mindset :
We all know Harry's experience with visions/dreams, he was trying to be noble, but hes going about it the wrong way. Let me know if you thought it was rushed, but I was trying to get this feeling of urgency going, because Harry is very stubborn and I needed him to stop dragging is feet. Unfortunately when he dosent drag his feet, he leaps without thinking .. thanks for reading this note, as you can see I owe my beta NoScrubs12345 a lot !