Soul Seeker

Well, this chapter is late. But I finally finished Brothers in Arms 3. Mild slash in this chapter. Pay attention to the bed-wetting, pyromania and animal cruelty – three important indicators, but can anyone tell me of what?

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Words: 6,238
Chapter 8
Nothing Wrong With Me
May 30th 1998.

Billy Stubbs had argued with him yesterday. Just thinking back on it made Tom angry. The idea that some stupid, boring, normal boy thought that there was something wrong with him just made him so angry. Tom was the only one at that stupid orphanage that there was something right with! He was the special one. He would be the important one when he grew up. If only everyone could be like him; the world would be a better place.

How dare Billy?

Tom could feel it inside of him. The anger and resentment, coursing through his veins, pumping through his heart, with each beat of his heart, the anger grew, thicker and darker, faster and faster until Tom just couldn’t take it anymore. He swung his legs out over the edge of the bed and stood up. The threadbare sheet fell onto the ground, but the nine year old couldn’t bring himself to care. He left the room silently, being very careful not to wake up his overly nosy roommate. Dennis Bishop was an awful pain in the backside, in Tom’s opinion. Him and that Amy Benson, always crowding around him, begging him to do something strange so they could tell everyone all about it.

He crept down the hallway, his footsteps cat-like. No one ever caught him when he was out after hours. He only had to worry about waking Dennis; if Dennis slept through Tom leaving the room, he never woke when Tom was gone or when he came back. Tom had always been extremely lucky in respect to not getting caught. A handful of times some of the elder boys would catch him alone, doing something weird, and they’d beat on him, but the older Tom got the easier he found it to avoid them.

He’d also discovered that he had the ability to make someone do what he wanted him or her to, just by telling them to. He’d shouted at 12-year-old Amber Healy a week ago, telling her she was a loser and a crybaby, and he’d told her she should throw herself out of the window because no one would miss her. She threw herself of the closest window the moment Tom was back in his room. But no one had dared to blame her death on him.

Tom grinned as he stopped in front of the door he was searching for. Billy Stubbs was two years older than him, old enough to be in secondary school. Sometimes the older kids got their own rooms, or pets, as long as their school work was up to scratch. Billy was so proud of his little, fluffy rabbit. He never could resist the opportunity to rub it in Tom’s face. Billy had a rabbit, and Tom used to have a snake, before Dennis had told Mrs. Cole on him. Tom never saw the snake again, but he’d been informed repeatedly by some of the older boys that the snake died painfully. He pushed open the door to Billy’s room and smiled slightly when he noticed the boy was still sleeping. He walked inside.

“Come here, stupid animal.” Tom hissed, kneeling down beside the indoor rabbit hutch. The rabbit woke instantly, and hopped closer to Tom. Tom lifted the lid of the hutch and grabbed the rabbit, giving it a harsh squeeze, before quietly leaving the room again. “So, fluffy, what am I going to do with you?”

Harry laughed, the knife in his hand slipped and clattered onto the floor, but he merely laughed again and picked it up. He pressed it against the rabbit’s leg, and carried on with what he was doing. The animal squirmed feebly; the skin of its upper torso was missing completely, as were its eyes. Harry didn’t understand why it was still alive, but he thought it might have been because he had told the rabbit not to die. When Harry had cut all of the animal’s skin off, he stood, holding the rabbit by the back legs. It gave a soft squeal, but no part of the boy felt pity or sympathy. He was too busy thinking about Billy Stubbs’ face when he came in for breakfast later that morning.

He climbed up onto one of the diner tables. Earlier Harry had placed a chair on the table, and now he carefully climbed onto it. He held the rabbit against one of the rafters with one hand, while the other hand pulled a length of string out of his pocket. He hurriedly tied the animal up, tight; making sure it wouldn’t fall down. It twitched again as Harry tucked the chair back under the table.

“You can die now, you stupid beast.” He hissed. Harry got down on his hands and knees; scrubbing at the floor with a wet cloth he had kept aside. He thought hard about how he didn’t want the blood there, how he didn’t want anyone to notice the blood, and his face almost split in half when he pulled back the pristine white cloth, without a trace of blood on it, and found the floor spotlessly clean. It was like he had never been there, he thought. Harry looked up at the ceiling, just to check, and was satisfied to find the dead animal hanging where he had left it.

He wrapped the skin in the cloth and ran to the kitchen, throwing the lot into the furnace that simultaneously heated the building and cooked the food. It was a little gross he thought, but didn’t people eat rabbit in some parts of the world?

Harry headed back to his room then. A small part of him was convinced he didn’t live here, but the larger part of him lay down on his cot, pulled up his thin sheet and closed his eyes with a smile. Tom couldn’t wait until the rest of the orphanage woke and found the rabbit. Billy Stubbs would be sorry he called Tom Riddle a freak. Tom cracked open one eyes and looked over to Dennis. Everyone would be sorry. Tom would show them all.

Tom felt something wet running down his leg and grimaced. The same thing had happened after Amber Healy jumped out of that window. He wriggled slightly, shifting over on the bed so he wasn’t lying in the wet patch, and tried to go back to sleep. He’d wet the bed again, but there was nothing he could do about it. He’d lie there all night, he’d stay awake and deal with it before Dennis woke up, or no doubt Dennis would tell everyone – again.

Harry’s eyes snapped open. The first thing that registered with his brain was that his bed was wet. The second was that, fortunately, Draco was no longer in the bed. For the past two weeks he had managed to avoid wetting himself when the blond was around, but Harry didn’t know how much longer this would last. He couldn’t imagine trying to explain to Draco that he dreamt of torturing children and helpless animals but got so excited by that, that he then pissed himself. Just thinking about the dreams horrified Harry, and the worst part was that while the boy in the dreams looked so much like him, Harry knew it wasn’t him. It couldn’t be.

Most of the dreams reminded Harry about the memories Dumbledore had shown him about the young Voldemort. Didn’t Tom Riddle kill the rabbit of some kid at his orphanage as well? Harry didn’t remember anything about a girl called Amber, but he was sure Riddle had done something to an Amy Benson at least.

Maybe he was dreaming about Voldemort’s past again? Why, when Voldemort was dead, Harry didn’t know, but maybe it was because the Fates were trying to show him that he had done the right thing. It could, he mused, be possible that the Fates didn’t want him to feel guilty about killing a murder, but then, he wasn’t really feeling all that repentant. Still, even now, all he felt was loss. There wasn’t room for guilt right then, especially not about Voldemort’s death.

“Doesn’t matter,” he muttered as he vanished the sheets again, “there’s nothing wrong with me at least.”

He dressed, washed himself and headed out to find his mate. Wrapping an arm around Draco’s waist, he pulled the blond down into a kiss and ignored the familiar twinge his scar gave him. If the dreams didn’t stop within the next month, Harry promised himself, he’d talk to someone about them.

“Good morning,” Draco greeted, as they pulled apart.

“And what a good morning it is,” Harry said, licking his lips as he looked Draco up and down. He laughed as Draco blushed, and almost immediately the feelings, the emotions, that welled up in him when Draco was around drowned any and all fears he had regarding his strange night time experiences. When Draco kissed him again, it was like Tom hadn’t ever existed.

His scar hurt again. But Harry was used to ignoring it.

XXX

June 5th 1998.

Draco moaned softly in his sleep. His hips bucked lightly, but one of Harry’s hands pushed him down, keeping him pinned to the bed. The brunette grinned and licked his lips. For the first night in a while now he hadn’t wet the bed, and he hadn’t had any sort of strange dream either. He’d woken up this morning, the morning of Draco’s eighteenth birthday, in a very good mood. And he wanted to share his good mood with his mate.

The blankets were pushed down to the edge of the bed. Harry was fully clothed, but Draco as always was sleeping in only his boxers. There was a slight bulge at the front of them and Harry licked his lips again as he reached out to touch the blond’s growing erection. Draco moaned again as Harry palmed his crotch. His head thrashed lightly, another groan escaping his mouth as Harry carefully pulled down the waistband of the silk shorts and freed Draco’s erection.

The boy had been growing harder since Harry first started bestowing his attentions on him, and by now Draco was aching. He bucked his hips again, but Harry succeeded in keeping him on the bed. Harry pressed small, butterfly kisses across both of Draco’s thighs. He nuzzled at the crease between Draco’s right thigh and hip before kissing his way along Draco’s stomach to bite down lightly at the flesh of Draco’s left hip.

Draco’s eyes fluttered and he whimpered lightly as something flicked across his penis. Something wet engulfed him, and he gave a startled yelp, eyes widening as he woke fully and looked down at his mate. Harry lay between his spread legs, his green eyes sparkling and Draco thought that he might have had a shit-eating grin on his face, if his mouth hadn’t been filled with Draco’s cock.

“H-Harry?” He stuttered, unsure whether he should urge Harry on, or stop his mate and reverse their positions.

“Hmm?” Harry tried to say but the flesh he continued to suck on muffled the word. Harry gave a quick, hard suck. Draco let out another moan, throwing his head back and abandoning himself to the feelings Harry was stirring in him. His cock twitched lightly as Harry hummed again. The brunette pulled back complete, allowing his closed lips to barely brush against the tip of the straining erection.

“Please Harry, please, please,” Draco begged, his voice breathy and low. The sound made Harry pant, his own cock stirring.

“What do you want Draco?” Harry asked, trying to make his voice sound as sultry as possible. It obviously worked, because Draco threw his head back again with a soft cry. The blond’s hand crept downwards, but Harry caught it before Draco could touch himself. “Do you want me?” Draco’s head bobbed frantically. “Do you want my mouth on you, my tongue licking you all over, do you want my hands on you, inside of you?”

“Yes, Merlin, oh YES! Harry!” Draco’s right hand was pinned at his side by Harry’s hand, but his other hand tangled in Harry’s hair, pulling the boys head down towards his cock. “Please Harry.” His eyes had fluttered closed, and he was panting harshly. His breath caught as Harry swallowed him to the root again. Harry sucked and licked for a while longer, until he thought Draco was ready, until he knew the blond was barely hanging on. Then he pulled away. “No, no, no, please don’t stop, Harry, Harry, no!” Draco gasped, thrashing his head frantically, letting his hips rise and fall, his cock bobbing in front of Harry’s face.

The brunette gave the stimulated blond a soft smile. “I have something I want to tell you.” Draco looked at him through heavy lidded eyes, but he was panting too hard to speak. “I love you.” Draco’s mouth opened, a silent cry leaving him, as his back arched and he came hard across his stomach without being touched again. Harry leant forward, licking away the semen and moaning at the taste of it on his tongue.

Draco watched him as the brunette cleaned him with his tongue. He swallowed heavily, trying to regain control of his breathing. Nothing he had ever done had felt like that, nothing. With a smile he realized he couldn’t wait to see how amazing bonding with Harry would be.

“You know,” Draco said slyly when he had calmed. Harry still lay between his legs, but his cheek was pressed to Draco’s stomach now and he was tracing small circles on Draco’s thigh. “It doesn’t count when you say it during sex.”

Harry looked up at him and frowned. He crawled up Draco’s body so their faces were directly in front of the others and he leant down to pressed a kiss to Draco’s cheek.

“I love you,” he told Draco before claiming his lips in a searing kiss. As their tongues duelled, and Draco’s eventually, inevitably submitted, Draco could taste what he knew to be his essence on Harry’s tongue.

“I love you,” Harry said for a second time, pulling away before pressing kisses to Draco’s neck and chin.

“I love you,” he told the blond once more, lying fully on top of him so Draco could feel how hard he was. The blond reached down, trying to touch Harry through his trousers, wanting to please his mate, but Harry stopped him.

“I love you,” he said again, looking straight into Draco’s disappointed silver eyes.

The blond smiled, realizing what it was Harry wanted. “I love you too.” Harry’s hand let go of Draco’s wrist, and he moved to lie on his back, pliant but vocal as Draco showed him, with his hands and mouth, exactly how loved he was.

It was an hour later before either boy emerged from their bedroom. Narcissa looked up at them from one of the couches in the living room as they entered. The corners of her lips curled upwards slightly, but it was enough of a smile for Draco to notice. He flushed crimson, mortified that his mother had heard everything. Harry, not knowing Narcissa as well as Draco, missed the amused smile. He looked between the two of them, his eyebrows furrowed.

Lucius cleared his throat. He sat on the opposite sofa to his mate, reading the paper. He lowered the paper, peering over it to meet Harry’s eyes. “Next time, use a silencing spell.” He lifted the paper again, but not before catching Harry’s horrified gaze, and he continued to read.

Harry sputtered for a moment, before he swallowed heavily. “Uh… oops?”

“Well,” Narcissa said with a giggle, “at least we know he’s being suitably taken care of.” She gave Harry a wink, and the brunette blushed as red as his mate. “Oh, your friend came for Teddy this morning. We allowed it, we assumed Miss Granger is more than capable of caring for him.”

“Yeah, she’ll do fine. Thanks, I was wondering why it was so quiet in here.” Harry sat down next to Narcissa, pulling Draco down onto his lap.

“Yes, well,” Lucius looked over the paper, smirking at his son, “it’s quiet now.”

“DAD!” Draco roared, his face flaming again. He jumped to his feet and almost ran back to the bedroom, slamming the door after himself. Harry let out a small chuckle as he watched his embarrassed Veela throw a slight tantrum. “Shut up Harry!” The voice called through the door and the brunette immediately stopped laughing.

Lucius folded his paper up and lay it on his lap. “What is it?” He asked Harry, who was nervously fidgeting with his shirt buttons.

“Uh, well it’s Draco’s birthday and I was wondering if you had anything planned?”

“No, Harry. Draco never expressed any desire for a celebration this year, nor the last year. He hasn’t quite been up to his usual spirits. And anyway, if we had planned something we would have told you. You’re family now, you know.” Narcissa tugged him against her, giving him a strong one-armed hug.

“I was thinking, maybe we could arrange a small party or something?” Harry said softly, conscious of his boyfriend who could be listening from the other room. “You know, with Voldemort gone, and he found his mate, me, so there really isn’t a reason not to celebrate right? He’s eighteen! I mean, he’s legally allowed to drink, and vote, and you know, do other cool stuff.”

Lucius pursed his lips, considering before he gave a slight nod. “We’ll leave the arrangements up to you. We’ll keep him distracted.”

“Thanks. I’ll let you know when and where later ok.” Narcissa nodded, removing her arm from around his shoulders. “Bye Draco!” He shouted towards the bedroom as he stood up.

“Bye!” Draco called back, still too embarrassed to open the door. Harry left the room, chuckling.

XXX

Teddy was happily chewing on the quill Ron had given him earlier. When Harry joined his friends in the library, Teddy immediately handed his quill over, wanting to shall. “Hey, thanks buddy.” Harry took the quill, gave it a quick chew and handed it back to the happy toddler.

“That was gross, mate.” Ron said with a grimace.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “He’s a baby, Ronald, not a contagious fungal organism.”

“But, they traded spit!” The red head protested.

“So do we!” Hermione said, and then blushed as she remembered the other teenagers that were sat around the table. Ron went red as well, and though he wanted to protest, he didn’t think shouting ‘you’re a girl’ would go over well with Harry, who liked to trade spit with a boy. He gave a small shudder. “What?” The girl asked immediately.

“Nothing, just bad thoughts.”

“Anyway,” Neville said with a roll of his eyes, “how are you Harry?”

“Great. Thanks for taking Teddy this morning, guys.”

“Of course, we were pleased to help out!” Hermione said, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “It’s Draco’s birthday, we thought you’d like to be alone with him for a while.” Ginny gave a snort, looking up sulkily through her lashes, making it painfully obvious that she would have been happier not helping Draco out.

“Yeah so why aren’t you with him?” George said, reaching across the table to pinch Harry’s cheek lightly. Neville jumped as George spoke. It was the first thing out of the red heads mouth since they met up that morning. He was still only speaking to Harry, and Neville knew it wasn’t going to end well.

“That’s what I was hoping to talk to you about. I wanted to have a party for him. Wanna help?”

“Of course!” Hermione and Luna both said, smiling.

“Well, we can’t have it in the Hogs Head.” Neville said immediately. “The building was busted up pretty badly when the Death Eaters figured out how we were evacuating Hogwarts.”

Harry winced slightly, giving himself a mental reminder to thank Aberforth repeatedly for his help. “What about the Three Broomsticks?”

Hermione thought for a moment, “well, no one was issued to help clean it up, so it must have survived almost intact.”

“Or it was decimated completely,” George added helpfully.

“Why don’t you see if Professor McGonagall will let you floo over, and you can ask Madame Rosmerta if it would be ok? While you’re gone, we’ll plan the guest list.”

“Who would want to go to Malfoy’s party?” Ginny said snidely.

“He’s Slytherin friends?” Neville asked quietly. “Suppose we’d have to ask his parents to contact them.”

“I’ll do that,” Luna volunteered. She stood up and walked away from the table before anyone could protest.

Hermione slapped Ron on the arm. “Why didn’t you offer?” She asked him with a frown.

“I was just about to,” he lied, “cross my heart.” He scratched his chin lightly, “and anyway it’d be better if I went to the kitchens and over saw the food preparations, don’t you think? I bet the house elves might even let me help them.”

“Just don’t eat it all!” Hermione shouted after him.

“I’ll keep an eye on him.” George stood as well, calmly following after his youngest brother. He gave Harry a pat on the head as he past by. “Hope you had a good morning.” He winked. Harry just grinned back at him.

“Well,” Ginny said loudly with a sneer on her face, “I won’t be offering my help!” She crossed her arms over her chest and leant back in her chair, her eyes narrowing at Harry. “Nor will I be leaving. I was sitting at this table before you, and I have just as much right to remain here.”

Harry frowned at her, before turning his attention to his godson. “What’s the matter, Teddy bear?” Teddy stopped tugging at Harry’s arm when the elder boy looked down at him.

The child pointed at his own chest and grinned, “par tee, me, par tee.”

“Course you can come to the party, kiddo.” Ginny scowled at the child for drawing away Harry’s attention. She just knew he was about to apologize for hurting her, and Teddy had to go and ruin things.

“Fine.” Hermione lay her quill down on the table, and Teddy copied her with a grin. “Ron is taking care of the food, Luna will invite the Slytherins, uh, Neville would you mind asking some of the DA? I’m sure they’d like to support your boyfriend Harry, so don’t give me that look. You have to admit, dating you will make Draco pretty popular.” Neville stood up, and tucked his chair under the table. “I’ll see about some decorations. Harry let me know what Madame Rosmerta says, and I’ll come over and help you set up.” She left the table as well, heading towards one of the library bookcases, searching for a book on decorating spells.

That left Harry alone at the table with Ginny. She looked over at him expectantly. “Well?” She said, stretching out her foot to touch Harry’s under the table.

Harry drew his leg back. “Well what?”

“Don’t you have something to tell me?” She asked, fluttering her eyes at him.

“Yeah actually. If you’re coming to the party you better not start anything, Gin, I’m serious.” He pushed back his chair with a scowl. “Come on Teddy.” He scooped the toddler up, holding him with one arm, and collecting the child’s toys with the other hand. “Bye Ginny.”

The red head girl watched them leave with a scowl. Teddy noticed her watching, and stuck his tongue out at her; his hair turned the exact shade as Draco’s, as Harry’s green eyes peered back at her from the baby’s head. She threw a book, and it hit the table nearest the door, where Harry had been standing a few seconds before. Madame Pince appeared, shushing Ginny, before throwing the girl out of the library.

“And don’t come back until you learn some appreciation for books!” the librarian shouted after the fuming teenager.

Ginny flipped her off without turning around. Librarians weren’t allowed to give out detention, especially not during the summer, so Ginny really didn’t care that she was being rude. She was just so annoyed. She couldn’t believe Harry would brush her off like that, after everything they’d been through together? Knowing that she loved him, he still chose Malfoy over her? It was aggravating, even more so knowing that only she thought there was something wrong with the scenario; even Ron seemed to be siding with the Death Eater brat.

Harry was supposed to be with her, her damn it; she already had the wedding planned out.

XXX

Harry’s head bobbed in the fireplace. A small green flame burned just beneath his chin, the flames jumping slightly as he shouted. “Hello? Anyone here?”

“Hello?” A woman’s voice called. Madame Rosmerta appeared, kneeling before the fireplace, a warm smile washing over her face as she gazed down at Harry. “Oh, hello lovey. How are you?”

“I’m great, and you?”

“Well, the old shack is still standing, so it can’t be too bad. I was a lot luckier than Aberforth anyway.” Her voice grew quieter, and she heaved a sigh. Then she smiled again. “I was lucky. Anyway, what can I do for you?”

“My, uh, boyfriend is eighteen today and I was wondering if we could hold a small party here? We’d bring the food and the decorations, and stuff, but would it be ok? See, some of his friends are Slytherins and they won’t be allowed into Hogwarts until all of the trials are over, and the Hogs Head isn’t in any condition to host a bunch of kids. If it isn’t ok, that’s fine. Really.”

“Nonsense. If I can’t help out the Boy-Who-Saved-Us once in a while, how would that make me look, huh?” She grinned at him. “Come on over.”

“You sure?” Harry’s eyes were wide, his smile stretching.

“Sure am. Come on, get those friends of yours and let’s get this place ready.”

“I have to go find Hermione and tell her to floo over. I’ll be there in a few minutes ok?”

Rosmerta stood up. “Out of curiosity, who is this boyfriend of yours? I’ve heard hide nor hair of a mention of him before now.” Harry’s smile widened, and Rosmerta was glad to see the boy so cheerful. Surely his boyfriend must be the best of people.

“Draco Malfoy.” Harry said. Madame Rosmerta’s face fell, her eyes clouding over slightly and she clenched her hands at her sides as she remembered what he had done to her. She wouldn’t make a scene, she told herself. If he made Harry happy, then the boy couldn’t be so bad. “Is something wrong?” Harry asked, noticing the dark look on her face.

“No, no, lovey. Just thinking, is all. Go get your friend.”

Harry’s head disappeared from the fireplace, and he went in search of Hermione all the while thinking about Madame Rosmerta’s reaction. There was something important he thought he should remember, but so much had happened in the last two years that it was hard for Harry to pin point it. She’d recovered well enough though, he thought. Maybe it wasn’t so bad. She would have cancelled the party otherwise, right?

XXX

June 5th 1998. That night.

Lucius and Narcissa waited patiently by the door to the Head Boy suit. Draco appeared, a shy smile on his face. “Where are we going?” He asked again.

“Harry is throwing you a party. He’s meeting us there.” Narcissa answered. When Draco was by her side, she drew him into a hug. “I’m so proud of you, Dragon.”

“Thanks, mum.” Draco sniffed slightly. He blinked his eyes a few times, willing tears not to form, especially after his father joined in the hug. “Love you both. Now, where are we going?”

They managed to get him into Hogsmeade without telling him the location of the party. The outside of the Three Broomsticks was decorated with streamers and there was a large banner handing over the door declaring ‘Happy 18th Draco’.

“I can’t go in there!” He said, his voice catching. “I can’t go in there. I’m sorry.” He turned on his heel and ran, not noticing Harry appear in the doorway of the pub.

“Where’s he going?” The brunette asked as he came outside to greet the elder Malfoys. He had a full bottle of Firewhiskey in one hand and a Butterbeer in the other.

“He said he couldn’t go in there.” Narcissa sounded as confused and as worried as Harry did. “I wonder what that was about?”

“Oh shit.” The brunette gasped, his hand rising to cover his mouth. “Teddy is inside with Hermione and Ron, will you keep an eye on him please?” He took off after Draco, jogging rather than running. When he got back to their rooms, he wasn’t too exhausted, but he paused to catch his breath before calling out to his mate. He heard a sniffle coming from the bedroom and let himself inside. “Hey, love. I’m so sorry, I completely forgot.”

“I couldn’t go in there, Harry. The last time I was there, I put her under the Imperious and told her to poison Headmaster Dumbledore!” Draco rubbed his eyes on his sleeve. “I’m sorry I ruined your party.”

“Hey, hey,” he said reaching out to cup Draco’s cheek. “It’s your party. And you can cry if you want to.” Draco just gave him a confused look, so Harry ignored the silly Muggle comment he had just made and instead pressed his lips lightly to his Veela’s. He handed over the Firewhiskey. “We’ll just have to have our own party, won’t we?”

After finishing the first bottle, as well as the Butterbeer, Harry had called Kreacher and begged another two bottles of alcohol from the Elf. They had finished the second bottle of ‘Old Ogden’s Firewhiskey’ and were halfway through a bottle of ‘Gideon’s Dry Gin’, when Harry leant over to kiss the blond. Drunken fumbling followed, and ended when Harry tried to roll on top of Draco and ended up rolling them both over the side of the bed. The two teenagers laughed hysterically, the bottle of Gin rolling around on the floor, the contents socking into Harry’s socks. Draco picked it up and took a swig. He stood, and sat on the edge of the bed, crooking a finger at his mate.

Harry chuckled, and tried to stand, but he ended up tripping over some lego that belonged to Teddy. Landing on the floor, surrounded by the offensive lego, Harry was suddenly overcome with a rage so strong he could feel it burning away the alcohol inside of him, like flames evaporating water. He was on his feet a moment later, ignoring Draco’s drunken giggling and grabbed his wand off of the bedside cabinet.

He pointed it at the lego. How dare that filthy Muggle toy humiliate Lord Voldemort?! “Incendio!” He roared and the lego quickly caught fire. The fire spread, from the lego, to a stuffed dog that Remus had given to Teddy, and then onto a puzzle that lay on the ground beside the other things.

“Stop it!” Draco shouted, sobering up as the fire spread. “Aguamenti,” he pointed his own wand at the fire, and a jet of water put out the flames. “What are you doing, Harry?”

Harry turned on him, his wand pointed at Draco’s face. Harry’s face was expressionless, but his lips quickly turned down into a sneer, as the green eyes narrowed. “Malfoy,” he hissed, his anger palpable. “You filthy traitor. Cruc-!” His scar flared. His hand flew to clutch at his forehead, dropping his wand and leaving the spell half cast. He panted, on his knees before the wide eyes blond, his nails clawing at his scar, which continued to throb.

“H-Harry?” Draco asked, his wand pointed at his mate’s head. “Are you ok?”

“Draco?” He looked up, and Draco’s immediately lowered his wand. His mate seemed so confused, his eyes wide and worried as he looked around at the destroyed toys. “What happened? I don’t feel so good, Dray.”

Draco helped lift Harry off of the floor, and pushed the brunette down onto the bed. “You had too much to drink. Just go to sleep ok?” With a wave of his wand, the sheets were no longer soaked with gin, and Harry’s clothes were dry as well. Draco’s waved his wand again and the smell of burning disappeared from the room. “Goodnight.”

“Love you, Draco.” Harry mumbled, his face pressed against his pillow.

Draco lay down behind him, his body tense as he waited to see whether Harry would have another ‘episode’. He tried to think, tried to recall, what had cause it, why had Harry gotten so angry? The alcohol he had consumed helped numb his mind and soon enough Draco was asleep.

Harry thrashed from side to side; his dreams filled with images of a boy who looked so much like him. “Incendio,” the thirteen year old whispered, with his wand pointed at a mouse he had in a small cage. Tom watched with a satisfied grin as the rodent caught fire, squeaking and squealing as the flames consumed its small body. When all that was left was bits of charred flesh clinging to bone, Tom picked up the cage and carried it out of the Third Year dorms. He left it beside the bed of seventh year Alexander Rookwood, and headed back to bed, smirking to himself. He could have fed it to his newest pet snake, Harry supposed, but then dear Alex wouldn’t have the pleasure of finding out exactly what happened when you called Tom Riddle a freak.

XXX

June 6th 1998.

Harry woke before Draco for once. The bed was wet again, and the room smelt of burning flesh, which it shouldn’t have because Harry was sure he hadn’t set anything living on fire last night. He dried the sheets using magic, but didn’t change them for fear of waking Draco up. He hoped desperately, that the blond would be too hung over to differentiate the scent of dried urine with Gin.

He dressed himself, not taking the time to shower, and ran from the suit. Neither of the elder Malfoys was awake, so neither of them was around to question him as he sped through the living room, out of the portrait hole and then away from the dungeons.

He banged his fist against the Fat Lady, scowling as the woman peered at him through one eye and then went back to sleep. “Open up, damn it.” He cursed, hitting the picture again.

“How rude,” the Fat Lady muttered, her eyes still closed. The portrait opened a fraction, and Harry pried it wider, squeezing himself through the gap before the Fat Lady slammed shut catching the back of his shirt. He resisted the urge to set the back of the painting on fire; instead, he tugged his shirt free and took a handful of calming breaths. His eyes flashed red, but no one was around to see it.

He tried to run up the stairs to the girls’ dormitory, but the stairs disappeared and Harry ended up slipping down the slide on his arse. “Come on, I don’t even fancy girls!” He shouted. The stairs appeared again, and Harry ran up them, thanking Hogwarts under his breath. He ran into the room, noticing that it was empty except for Hermione and Ginny (who seemed to have decided to sleep in the wrong dormitory).

He shook the brunette, climbing onto the bed beside her. “What?” She murmured, “Tempus.”

‘5:49 am’ appeared in front of them, made out of smoke.

Hermione cursed softly and looked up at Harry. “What is it?” She asked tersely.

He swallowed heavily, rubbing at his eyes tiredly with his clenched fist. He wanted to hurt her. He really wanted her to wake up, and demand she use a civil tone when speaking to him. How dare that upstart Mudblood speak to him in such a manner, how disrespectful? He’d show her. His hand reached for his wand, but he stopped himself.

Red eyes looked down at Hermione’s startled, pale face. “H-Harry?”

“I think something’s wrong with me,” he said at last. The ‘s’ sounds were drawn out, and Hermione couldn’t help but think Harry sounded just like Voldemort did. His eyes, green again, watered and he squeezed them closed so he wouldn’t cry. “I think something is very wrong with me.”

He lay down beside her on the bed, and despite the terror she felt at the similarities between her friend and Lord Voldemort, she wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him closer. “It’s ok, Harry.” She kissed his forehead. “We’ll do the purification ritual soon, I promise. I’ll start getting everything ready later today.”

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, clutching at the blankets with both hands.

“What for?”

“I really want to hurt you,” he looked up at her, his face ashamed, “for being a Muggleborn.” Hermione’s mouth opened and closed a few times, but there wasn’t anything she felt she could say in reply, so she sighed and kissed Harry’s forehead again. She stayed awake until she made sure Harry was asleep. She took his wand off of him. Only then did Hermione feel comfortable enough to go back to sleep.

XXX

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The rabbit scene was taken from HBP, chapter 13. It pained me to do that because my friend just bought a pet rabbit. Let me know what you all thought.

Let’s get something straight. I write to receive reviews. Some people might tell you they write for fun and don’t expect reviews, well, they lied. Most people update once they receive reviews. I don’t see the point in updating for an audience that are either not interested, or want you to believe they are not interested. You can either try and review (though it isn’t really that hard) or I will not post here.

Thank you to those that do review. I dedicate this chapter to you. You’ll know who you are.