Where Lies Will Not Blossom

Author: Akumu Suta-Raito

Fandom: Harry Potter

Rating: R (Adult)

Genre: Romance, Drama, Angst, H/C

Pairing: Harry/Draco

Warnings: Language, Anal, Explicit Torture, Disturbing imagery.

*New* Summary: When Draco disobeys everything he's learned in a single action, he is made a prisoner in his own home. Can Harry and Severus save him, or will he be destroyed by an obsessive Dark Lord's plans? Can bonds of love and friendship triumph over ultimate evil?

Author’s Note: I want to say sorry for the long wait, but I had terrible writer’s block for the chapter – it’s not my best, but I hope it isn’t too horrible. Finally, things get moving in this chapter; I’m apologizing in advance for the lack of Draco. Also, I intend to have more Sirius and Remus in the next chapter; I think we should see how that budding relationship is going! ; ) I’m really happy, because last chapter I got the most feedback I’ve gotten from a chapter on aff.net since the first chapter. I’m really glad that everyone seems to like the story, and I’m also very grateful for the constructive criticism that I’ve gotten. I really want to make this fanfiction the best I can possibly make it!

Most of you will be pleased to know that I have A BETA! She is amazing at correcting my silly mistakes. Thanks Vittani!

Also: FOR ALL AFF.NET READERS – if you want me to add you to my update list, just leave your email address behind in a review. I’ll be happy to inform you when I update my story.

Chapter Nine: The Library of Mysteries

It was odd to see the barely concealed anguish in Snape’s face. Two hours ago he would have been the first to say that the Potion’s Master could express no emotions but distain and a vague hatred for all living creatures. Harry had stuttered his way through the description of his vision and slowly watched the normally taciturn man change colors, begin to tremble, and finally demand to see the memory for himself.

Harry had refused – he remembered what it had been like to have Snape in his head, finding his most embarrassing memories and taunting him with it. To willingly allow that man into his memories wasn’t something Harry saw himself doing within the next century!

But something in Snape’s face, perhaps the desperation and pain over the man’s pinched features, made him reluctantly agree. More likely, it had nothing really to do with Snape and more to do with his one-time rival. Malfoy had found himself in a mess bigger than anything even Harry had dealt with and he didn’t want to unwittingly be responsible for withholding something that could help the other boy.

He’d never really liked Malfoy – he despised the little prick and his attempts to get the DA in trouble this past year – but he didn’t want the blond truly hurt. Harry had always had little fantasies and daydreams about humiliating his enemy, making Malfoy flush with anger and shame, of punching him in his little pureblood nose.

But even he would not have wished such a terrible fate on the Slytherin.

Harry thought back to the connection he’d felt with the unnamed recruit and realized that those feelings hadn’t disappeared regardless of what he may have felt for Malfoy in the past. Now, he was far from calling Malfoy his friend (Harry wasn’t sure they would ever be that) but he found that he respected the other boy. The fact that he hadn’t cracked completely yet was beyond admirable, especially considering Voldemort’s repulsive desire – Harry quickly leapt from that train of thought, not wanting to dwell on the sickening obsession he’d felt in the Dark Lord’s mind.

Snape had long since left, promising to keep him updated on Malfoy’s situation – after sternly ‘reminding’ Harry to keep all he knew quiet. He’d went to bed not long after that, tossed and turned and tangled himself in the covers before giving up on sleeping altogether. Harry had paced, bit all his nails ragged, and eventually went to lie on the bed once more.

More than anything, Harry hated to be useless, and that’s exactly how he felt.

Now he restlessly watched the sky slowly lighten, the shades of orange and pink framing the rising sun in the heavens. Every time he closed his eyes, the memory played behind his lids like some twisted muggle movie. Just remembering the things that he, as Voldemort, had wanted to do to Malfoy left him feeling weak and disgusted with himself.

Logically, he knew that those emotions had not been his own, and blaming himself for experiencing them during a vision was foolish. But he couldn’t really help it – it was like when Mr. Weasley was attacked by Nagini. Harry had wanted the man dead; it had been his body striking with deadly efficiency and his mouth that the man’s blood had rushed into.

He’d felt satisfaction that Ron’s dad was dying by his fangs, that the man’s life was seeping out with every bite. He hadn’t merely been a bystander; Harry had been the snake just as he had been Voldemort.
He didn’t know how this sort of possession or reverse Legilimency worked, but it always left him profoundly disturbed afterwards. And trying to explain it was damn near impossible; when he’d told Ron the details of that vision, the red-head simply shrugged and said, “But it wasn’t you mate.” Harry couldn’t make his friend understand that while he had not attacked Mr. Weasley, it had felt like he had. Feeling that kind of hatred and the rush of a new kill was indescribably disconcerting.

Now he had even more do keep from his friends; telling them now would benefit no one. Hermione would immediately demand that he and Snape come clean to the Order; she was far too naïve at times.
Coming from Harry, that was nearly an insult.

With Ron… Harry sighed slightly. Ron would, no doubt, react in the exact way that Snape had feared the Order members would. Upon hearing who the recruit was, Ron would start to exclaim that it was a trap, Malfoy was evil (of course), and refuse to see reason until much later. Harry had faith that Ron would be brought around eventually, but Harry didn’t have the time to argue with his sometimes bull-headed friend.
But Harry couldn’t just sit on his hands, waiting for news from Snape (who may or may not go back on his promise). No, he had to make himself useful now that he knew more than the Order members did. He had to somehow aid the rescue effort and get Malfoy out of there; but how would he go about doing that?

Usually, when faced with a problem, Harry would immediately inform Ron and Hermione before taking a trip to the Hogwarts library. Once there, Harry and Ron would alternate between flipping through books and goofing off while Hermione got the actual research done. If either of the two boys stumbled across something, it was almost always an act of luck or divine intervention. Sighing in a resigned manner, he realized that he would have to rely on more than Hermione and the gods now.

Harry glanced at the window, noticing that the sun had rose fully, casting new shadows on his walls. Knowing that there was no time like the present, he began to get ready for the day. It was so early that he would have the library to himself without having to answer any strange questions.

Pulling a beige hoody over his head and slipping into his jeans, Harry noted that he looked rather pale and sported deep circles under his eyes. His nearly chin length ebony locks hung around his face in even greater disarray than normal and there was a certain tightness around his mouth that hinted at hidden pain or aggravation. In laymen’s terms, he looked exhausted.

Funny, that. Harry felt quite awake.

Resigned to the fact that he looked like death warmed over, Harry walked out of his room and through the halls of Grimmauld Place. At this time, the place was quiet and had an almost deserted quality – it was odd to think that it was usually filled with bustling activity. He was grateful that he didn’t run into anyone.
Harry was notoriously bad at lying, and didn’t feel like coming up with something to explain what he was doing.

Finally reaching the library, he stared around a moment in confusion.

Never really stepping foot inside the library, Harry had little idea about its layout. Now he realized it was unlike any library he had ever seen.

Instead of being contained in one large room, as it was in Hogwarts, the Black Library was composed of several small rooms with connecting doorways. Oddly enough, merely the frame of the doorway remained; there were no doors blocking entrance into any of the other rooms. Harry looked out of the nearest doorway and almost felt dizzy with the seemingly endless amount of empty doorways in his vision. Shaking his head slightly, Harry began to survey the room he occupied.

There were only a couple of chairs in the room Harry was occupying, and Harry picked up a book leaning on an arm of the worn armchair. The fading letters on the spine said the title was Dark Manifestations of Nature and their Composition. Inspecting a few books on the shelves, Harry realized that this particular room dealt with Herbology, although the subject matter seemed to be much darker than anything that was taught in Hogwarts.

Systematically going through the rooms, he surveyed the type of books within them. After several minutes, Harry began to have the first stirrings of frustration – none of these books seemed remotely useful to his situation. Hell, some of the books were in languages he couldn’t even identify!
He’d run across more tombs on pureblood genealogy and culture then he could count, as well as numerous potions, transfiguration, and charms guidebooks. But more than any other, there were leather-bound books of various sizes with no words on the covers. Some of them seemed harmless and were merely journals of Sirius’ descendants, but others practically screamed of some unknown danger. A sixth sense warned Harry against touching most of them, and
he saw no need to go against it.

He’d figured out that each room was devoted to a particular subject, but the amount of rooms seemed endless – Harry swore he’d been through at least ten of them.

He felt as if he was wondering aimlessly through the rooms like a fool. He wasn’t even sure what he was looking for other than he would know when he found it. Harry snorted slightly; that hardly made sense in his head. Picking up a rather large book and flipping through the pages, Harry was disgusted to see it was about Witch etiquette of all things.

He gave up on the current room with a disgruntled expression and walked towards the next room – huh? It took him a moment to realize that a door was blocking his way; it was rather nondescript and plain, with a faded brass doorknob that was dinted slightly on the left side. Harry gripped the damaged knob lightly and turned; the door remained closed. Why was this particular room locked while the others were not? Was it something dangerous? A worried frown graced his face.

Perhaps it would be best to let it be – this had been the home to Dark wizards for generations and the efforts of the Order surely hadn’t cleared out all of the malevolent magical artifacts. The other rooms probably had something useful that he’d overlooked somehow. Yes, it would be best to leave the locked room be.

Harry had nearly left the room when a small ‘click’ disrupted the quiet. Turning back slowly, he saw that he door which refused to budge was now slightly ajar. Hardly thinking about what he was doing, Harry walked back the door and peered inside the revealed room.

It was the same and yet different from the others. It was small, smaller than any of the previous rooms, but nearly identical otherwise. There were two large armchairs with a small table in-between them and all four walls were covered in rows of books from the ceiling to the carpeted floor.

The books, however, were what made this room unique. Each was exactly the same as the one next to it – they were all thin and bound with worn red leather. At first glance, it would seem to be a massively extensive collection of some sort of encyclopaedias, but the sheer number of volumes seemed to be impossible.

They were nondescript, but unlike the other books they seemed to hum with a non-threatening power that told Harry they weren’t dangerous. He walked to the shelves, hand reaching to retrieve one of those books. A moment before reaching them, he paused.

Something about this seemed odd. Harry began to put his hand down, only to discover with alarm that he was unable to. His palm began to itch slightly, the unnatural desire to hold one of the slender volumes stirring in his chest.

No! This was just like the Imperious Curse, and Harry could beat it just as well. At that moment, the itching became a furious burning sensation and his hand inched closer to the shelf. His heart began to pound, and the overwhelming urge to pick up the book became overpowering. It wasn’t just a physical sensation, it was mental as well. Harry’s mind was screaming, telling him to read the book, promising unspoken horrors if he refused to.
He was strong. All he had to do was step away… just a few feet away and he would be out of the room. It was easy. He could do this.

Not deterred by Harry’s thoughts of rebellion, his hand unerringly ran a single fingertip down the worn bindings of the book.

A sound louder than anything Harry had ever heard before vibrated through his skull and he felt himself stumbling, the faraway feeling of something solid in his hand before he was falling, falling, falling and everything went black.

When Harry was aware of himself again, he was sitting in one of those comfortable armchairs, his hands on either side of the book. It was open to a blank page. Something told him to turn the page.

Still in the grips of magical compulsion, he did.

In the middle of the next page, a single word was written. Grimoyre. He turned the page once more, absently noticing that paper was warm to the touch. Odd. This page was empty as well, not even as single word marring the – wait.

There was a date in the top left corner. 20 July 1996. Today’s date. And suddenly, there were carefully scripted words below the date – entire paragraphs, actually. That fact that words had appeared on the page should have disturbed Harry more, considering what happened last time he found a book that had a mind of its own, but Harry was oddly… unworried. His hands felt comfortable and utterly right on the book, its slight weight feeling as if it belonged resting on his knees. Never before had an inanimate object made him feel so content. All of his troubles – Voldemort, Malfoy, Snape, being gay, the War… seemed to slowly drift away under this tide of serenity.
Harry began to read.

‘Desire our knowledge, want our secrets. These pages will lay down the Shadowed Path of Light and Darkness, wizard. You are lost amongst the forest, but we shall find you. You are drained by the Dark One – let us be a balm on your soul. Fear not, we are the answers you seek for the unknown. We are joined with you; separate but never parting, knowing all but bending our awareness to your will.

Read our words, young sapling, and all your Wars will be won. The choice is yours.’

Everything seemed to stop. The magic that had made the book impossible to resist was gone, and Harry, being the logical boy that he was, did the first thing that came to his mind.

He threw the book as hard as he could. It hit the bookcase to the left and ricocheted to land a few inches from his feet. He stumbled back clumsily, knocking over a small table in his wake. High, panicked breaths were released from his throat while his heart beat furiously in his chest.

Not even under Voldemort’s Imperious had Harry felt such a powerful possession. Even now, the book sang to him, tempting him to pick it up. No, the book was cursed. It had to be. Why else would its worn cover promise Harry so many things? Why else did it feel as if it had belonged to him his entire life, like a loyal pet?

But if it was cursed, why hadn’t the spell activated the moment he touched it? Why wasn’t he lying on the floor with his entrails hanging out, lit aflame with some Magical blaze, or frozen solid? What if it was a timed curse – one that would lay dormant until he woke one morning with his eyes missing or something?

As Harry considered all of these horrifying possibilities, his hand was unknowingly reaching for the book once more. Only when he found himself stooped on the ground, arm poised merely inches away from the cover, did he shake himself furiously.

He should just walk away. Nothing good would come of the Grimoyre. That much was certain. He would leave it be and never come back to his room – or hell, even the library. And he would go straight to Sirius and tell him that he had some kind of anathema existed in the Black Library. So that the Order members would be aware of it. Yes, that was what he would do.

And with that decided, Harry quickly picked up the book and put it in the large pocket on the inside of his jacket that was supposed to house emergency potions. Then he walked out the room while muttering, ‘bad idea’ repeatedly under his breath.

Stubbornly determined to put the issue out of his mind for the time being, Harry wondered around the library before finding a promising tomb on glamours. He sat down to read, the comforting feel of the Grimoyre in his pocket nearly forgotten.


Harry remained immersed in the thick book until the sound of footsteps startled him out of his ‘studies.’ He hardly had time to close it before he was a few feet away from the surprised face of Hermione Granger.

“Harry,” the girl questioned softly. “What are you doing here?”

He cursed. This was exactly what he wanted to avoid, but he couldn’t believe that he’d forgotten how Hermione frequented the library; it would have been better to bring the book (both of them) to his room. The last thing he needed was for her irrepressible curiosity to be roused by acting suspiciously. Thinking quickly, Harry replied,
“I erm – couldn’t sleep.”

Running a hand through her curly locks, Hermione raised a single brow. “I’ve never known you to frequent the library when hit with insomnia, but perhaps it’s a better habit then roaming through halls under an invisibility cloak and getting in perilous situations.” She smiled quickly to show she was only joking.

Harry tried to make sure that his face didn’t show obvious relief. “So, what are you doing here? You’ve finished all of your summer assignments, haven’t you?”

“No, actually,” The girl admitted to Harry’s surprise. “I’m still putting the finishing touches to my Charms paper. Usually I would just limit my knowledge to what’s in our textbook, but now that I’ve got an entire library at my disposal, I might as well be thorough!”

Now was one of those moments that Harry agreed with Ron entirely. The bookish Gryffindor had to be barking!
Seeing Harry’s rather mystified expression, Hermione flushed slightly. “With the way you and Ronald act, one would think I’m drowning kittens instead of simply doing my work!”

“You’re the smartest girl in Hogwarts, Hermione. We couldn’t keep up with you if we tried. Ron and me, we’re…. average. You’re not. We don’t mean to clash with your studies, we just do,” Harry shrugged slightly as he said this.

The girl puffed up slightly with the complement. “Yes, well… hard work never hurt anyone. Ron could learn a thing or two about it – honestly, he’s unbearable during the summer! All he wants to do is sleep and eat – and what’s that?”

He was confused for a moment, before realizing that he still had the leather-bound book clasped tightly in his hand.

“Oh – um, it’s nothing really. Just a book I was reading.” Good save there, Harry.

“What’s it about,” Hermione asked interested, having never known Harry be so flustered at being found reading.

“Quidditch,” Harry replied quickly, knowing that was perhaps the only subject (besides Divination) the girl
didn’t enjoy researching.

Hermione hummed faintly and deftly stole the book out of Harry’s hand. Eyes widening when she saw the title was too faded to read, she began to flip through the age-stained pages. He attempted to steal it out of hand before she could find out what it was about, knowing that she would be less than pleased with his reading material.
His reflexes were a bit to slow, however, and he watched with trepidation as his friend began to puff up in preparation for a lecture.

“Understanding the Obscure: Dark Glamours and Other Means of Disguise? Harry, what are you doing reading this sort of thing? There could be some really dangerous spells in this book, things that you shouldn’t be reading. Sirius told us to stay away from any untitled books or those with faded titles, because some of them were cursed!”

“Oh – I didn’t know that. But nothing happened, I’m not cursed.” That I know of, Harry couldn’t help but think when he remembered the other book in his pocket.

“That you know of Harry,” she exclaimed, echoing his thoughts before adding, “Besides, there are plenty of reasons to not be reading it in the first place! For one, it’s Dark –”

Harry rolled his eyes slightly, hoping it looked natural. “You act like I’m going to sprout fangs and start craving the flesh of children just because I’m reading a book that’s a little Dark! There’s nothing wrong with it.”

Hermione’s lips thinned into a stern line, not unlike that of Professor McGonagall’s. “Oh, really? Well listen to this, ‘The key to true deception is to first understand your victim – and how to bring about their demise.’” Harry noted that fear of a curse didn’t stop her from reading. “This sounds like something that a Slytherin would say! Not that they’re all Dark, mind you, but Harry! Think about your connection with Voldemort and how reading something like this might affect it.”

Now Harry wasn’t just pretended to be annoyed. “And explain to me, pray tell, how me reading this would affect my connection with the Dark Lord.”

She stared at him for a moment as if the answer was obvious before replying, “The Dark nature of the book will make it easier for Voldemort to take root in your thoughts. Professor Dumbledore said that negative emotions and influences make you better prey for His possession. The fact that you were so angry this past year was part of the reason that He was able to send you that false vision –”

“SHUT UP! Just stop!” How dare she bring that up, knowing how terrible of a blow Sirius’ death had been to him! How dare she point out his guilt in all of it, as if he didn’t know already. To be so bloody bold as to say it!
Deep down he knew that she hadn’t meant it that way, but he couldn’t help but to equate her words with a litany of ‘your fault, your fault, your fault.’ Harry was fuming, his hands shaking in anger and his mouth filled with a hundred harsh words that he was a hairsbreadth away from saying.

His head was facing away from her now, but he still heard her say tentatively, “Harry, you must know that I didn’t mean… I wasn’t saying that it was your –” My fault and you and I both know it.

But he didn’t say that. Instead he replied with a short, tense, “I know.”

Hermione didn’t stay long after that. Harry was left alone in the room, his sweaty hand gripping Understanding the Obscure and his mind a million miles away.

TBC

Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers!

thrnbrooke – I’m glad your so into the story. I hope you like this chapter!

harrydraco4life – Wow, you really hate Voldemort – not that I blame you. Don’t worry, he’ll get his in the end ;) Thanks for the review!

MeLaiya – I’m glad that you like the story and I’m sorry for the misspellings. I’ve actually be working on finding a beta for the story, but I haven’t be successful thus far. You also mentioned made up words… do you remember what they might be? I had someone else look over it to make sure after I read your review, the idea of my making up words scares me ;) If you remember any such words, please tell me!

Vittani – I love the ‘wows,’ hehe! I’m glad you like the bit about the glamour, I didn’t want it to come off as if I was trying to make him more attractive. I love hooked nose Snape just as much as glamour Snape! The glamour makes something that I will be doing soon more convenient… but that’s all I’m going to say on that. I can honestly tell you this though – Severus will NOT have to attract the Dark Lord, Dumbledore wouldn’t ask him to do that. Good guess though.

And yes, I’m planning on pairing him with someone, but I don’t want to put him with a Mary/Gary Sue. It has to be a canon character, but I’m still decided who it will be. I have an idea though…

Thanks so much for the compliments about my characterization. As I was telling another reviewer, I wanted to have them as in character as possible while giving enough wiggle room for the fanfiction to work. I’m glad you think that I accomplished that. Thanks so much for the review; I look forward to what you’ll think of this chapter!

evel_epic216 – Thanks so, so much for your compliment. I’m really glad that you like my characterization – it’s hard to keep them in character but still allow them to have room for character growth. Especially when I’m writing them in situations that Rowling never did! I hope you continue to enjoy the story and review. (And don’t worry about being flowery; I’m minoring in Lit. so I know exactly what you mean)

sasukichan – Wow, two reviews! You completely just made my day, seriously! Yes, I do think that Draco is playing a bit with fiendfyre – he is manipulating someone who has bouts of insanity for little to no reason, who is obsessive, and apparently has some grand plan for Draco (that our favorite blond has no idea about.) But really, he has no other options. He believes that continuing to openly defy Voldemort will end in his death, so he’s playing this game with no idea that Voldemort intends to use him as some tool. And to address something else you commented on, Draco will not get any kind of Stockholm Syndrome, ever. His hatred for Voldemort will not transform into any kind of misguided affection.

I wouldn’t necessarily say that Voldemort was losing his sense of reality – that would imply that he had one to begin with. I envision him as someone who could be coldly rational, but also undeniably insane – and he’s far from rational with his obsession with Draco (and his hair, lol). Draco will have to walk a very fine line of temptation to pull this off; but you should also consider that Voldemort doesn’t want to damage Draco to much because of his unknown power.

You’re talking of Scar, right? I absolutely love Fullmetal Alchemist, best anime ever, and I would love to delve into some of it’s aspects in this story. I already have an inkling of what Draco’s power will be centered on, but I appreciate your suggestion and I might find some way to weave it into the story. Fill free to give me suggestions whenever you want, lol.

As I said to another reviewer, I love hooked nose Snape as much as glamour Snape. But you are right, this glamour will be part of the overall plot, but Severus will not have to seduce Voldie. The Dark Lord is highly unpredictable and seducing him would put Severus into too much danger. As for Harry and Severus, there might be mutual updating.

Also, with Severus and Albus, I think Dumbledore sees Snape as a son of sorts – hence the ‘my boy’ phrase. Rowling didn’t really go into the relationship between the two, but I always got the feeling that they had a father/son type of bond. I think Dumbledore is the kind of person that would use that to refer to plenty of people, but he wouldn’t address Snape that way in front of students, because they would have a professional relationship only in the school setting. Does that make any sense? Tt made sense in my head anyway, hehe.

Thanks so much for the long reviews, I really love them! I’ll be waiting to hear what you think of the next chapter!

broomrider949 – I’m glad that you like the chapter, thanks for reviewing. As for the glamour, Severus might be forced to remove it later in the story… Voldemort would be in for a bit of a shock!