Bitter Empty Shell
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
1,353
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
1,353
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
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.
Bitter Empty Shell
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: M/M AU, angst, language, mystery.
Pairings: Harry/Draco (but not yet)
The moonlight gently kissed his long blonde hair as it lay on the black satin pillow. A beautiful contrast between the dark and light that was within his soul; illustrated by the soft and gentle beam that crossed the room from the window illuminating a dappled trail of dust motes in it’s wake. He stirred gently in his sleep murmuring almost inaudibly as he stretched his pale tender fingers across the bed by instinct to feel for the warm patch which was missing. Shifting slightly the covers slipped down, in so doing exposing his white shoulder to the light.
Sunlight filtered through the window waking Draco from his dreams, a rhapsodic fantasy where he still had... But it was wrong to think like that, he knew that way lay anxiety and stress.
* * * * * * * * * *
“Another coffee love?”
The man in the long black duster coat with the black hair said nothing, but he nodded once. So long it seemed now since he’d been in a different world. It seemed almost a dream now, Hogwarts, the battle with Voldemort then the time he spent in St. Mungo’s. They told him he’d recovered but upon mulling it over he knew that deep in his soul there was an aching need that he’d never be able to fill. He fingered the splintered piece of Holly wood in his coat pocket while looking for some money to tip the waitress who was waiting expectantly beside him with his coffee. He paused in his revery and passed her a pound coin and then dropped back into his private world.
A loud bang, the coffee cup dropped to the floor, windows shattered. Someone was screaming over by the counter. Somewhere through the smoke a dark-haired man in a business suit with emerald eyes and glasses stood up and walked towards the door. A flash of purple light leapt through the smoke and he crumpled to the ground lifeless. The man in the duster coat fumbled on the floor looking for his broken glasses as blue flashing lights and loud sirens broke the shocked silence of the scene’s aftermath. An ashtray whistled fast through the air towards his head and with lightning-fast reflexes the man grabbed it. As he felt the cold steel of the ashtray against his finger-tips the world around him seemed to retreat and he felt himself being stretched and pulled through space.
* * * * * * * * * *
Draco sat up in bed and ordered the house-elf to fetch him a cup of morning coffee (a muggle beverage of which he had grown fond over the years). The sheets fell around his waist exposing his pale white smooth torso to shine like polished gilt in the morning light. He raised himself out of bed and walked over to the open davenport by the window. Reaching in he pulled out some letters which he put to one side and then finally the object of his search, a battered cardboard box. With a little trepidation he opened it and was sat with tears in his eyes looking at the contents. He let out a shuddering sob mid-breath and then closed the box before replacing it within his desk.
Grabbing a pale blue silk dressing gown he walked to the bay window and sat on the window seat overlooking the garden. His tears fell gently into the coffee that warmed his hands and left a small picture in steam on the glass of the window. The morning sun was finally beginning to give up the battle with the clouds as rain swept in over the rhodedendron bushes and fell softly on the acers in the ornamental Japanese garden below Draco’s window. The soft hissing of the rain on the paths and Draco’s quiet tears were the only sounds to push gently through the quiet ambience of the picture.
To think, I’d once said to him, “Malfoy’s never cry.” We had so little time, and so much love still to give.
* * * * * * * * * *
Cold stone floor beneath his knees, a slight musty smell in the air. Realizing he couldn’t see anything; he groped in his coat for a lighter or a box of matches.
“Mr. Potter,” a voice growled. “Lesson for you, never sit in public in a chair facing a window.”
He felt the air stir as a figure moved beside him, Harry prepared himself to lunge sideways into where he hoped it’s legs would be. “That won’t be necessary, Lumos” growled the unseen adversary. Blue actinic light spilled into the room from a wand tip showing the gaunt haggard outline of Mad-Eye Moody’s face with it’s grizzled white-grey hair and magical eye rolling in it’s socket scanning always around. The light showed the edges of ridged dark stalactites hanging from the ceiling and stalagmites breaking the stone floor of the cave, the gentle dripping of the water that over the millenia had formed these was just audible.
“Just a good job for you that muggle looked more like Harry Potter than you do these days,” Moody looked over to him with a half smile visible. “I don’t believe them Potter, this is why I’m going to help you out. You have a lot of enemies, I wager you’re going to need this.” Harry looked up at him questioningly his face hollow and dark under the eyes, no longer wearing glasses. “I had to break into Olivander’s for this, apparently the spell’s unique to every wand. You have the shards still?” Moody peered into him with both eyes.
Harry emptied his pocket onto the cave floor, with a metallic bounce his pocket torch fell out, several pencils, some holly wood splinters and a golden edged red feather. Moody drew his wand and stood over the pile. “Contrado Virga Pleno” He slashed his wand in the air in an arcane manner, his wand trailed golden sparks and inscribed a celtic knot in the very air itself. In the middle of the glowing knot a pale ghostly phoenix form appeared. The knot began to spin and it’s edges to coalesce into one glowing shape. The phoenix flew from the centre of what was now a scintillating sphere of phlogiston to touch the shards and pulled them into the middle of the globe of energy. The globe faded and left Harry’s complete wand glowing with a purple light levitating in mid air. Moody smiled, picked up the wand and passed it to Harry.
Harry took the wand and placed it in his back pocket.
“Harry,” the old man glared at him “elementary wand safety.” He then winked and disapparated with a bang.
For a few seconds, Harry stood there in the darkening cave watching the last sparks of the spell fade. He held his wand aloft and then tested it, the first spell he had cast in two years. “Lumos”. A calescent light lit the room. Reaching into his pocket Harry checked his cigarettes were intact, feeling the packet was crumpled he pulled one out, a harsh tasting, strong Marlboro red. He straightened the cigarette between thumb and middle finger with a stroking motion and lit it with the now recovered matches. Then he couldn’t stop himself, he fell to the floor choked with emotion and sobbed. So much dark water had passed under the bridge of his life since he last held his wand. His duster coat enfolded him and bunched up on the floor picking up dust, Harry didn’t care. Sucking hard on the cigarette in his left hand and gripping onto the wand in his right he sat on the dirt floor with tears streaming from his beautiful emerald orbs.
Alastor had seemed so sure, but the problem was Harry wasn’t. He didn’t know whether Moody was right or not, deep in his soul a demon niggled and bit. It told him that he was not innocent, that he was responsible. Along with this thought though was a pain, a pang in his heart. A longing for a blonde head buried against his shoulder, the warmth of a delicate body against him at night. The caring love shared between two people who were both powerful and sensitive to their emoti
* * * * * * * * * *
The next chapter will be longer, I promise. I felt it unfair to get into plot in what is in fact a prelude to the main bulk of the story. Thanks to Sara for betaing and Michael for encouraging me to write.
Summary: M/M AU, angst, language, mystery.
Pairings: Harry/Draco (but not yet)
The moonlight gently kissed his long blonde hair as it lay on the black satin pillow. A beautiful contrast between the dark and light that was within his soul; illustrated by the soft and gentle beam that crossed the room from the window illuminating a dappled trail of dust motes in it’s wake. He stirred gently in his sleep murmuring almost inaudibly as he stretched his pale tender fingers across the bed by instinct to feel for the warm patch which was missing. Shifting slightly the covers slipped down, in so doing exposing his white shoulder to the light.
Sunlight filtered through the window waking Draco from his dreams, a rhapsodic fantasy where he still had... But it was wrong to think like that, he knew that way lay anxiety and stress.
* * * * * * * * * *
“Another coffee love?”
The man in the long black duster coat with the black hair said nothing, but he nodded once. So long it seemed now since he’d been in a different world. It seemed almost a dream now, Hogwarts, the battle with Voldemort then the time he spent in St. Mungo’s. They told him he’d recovered but upon mulling it over he knew that deep in his soul there was an aching need that he’d never be able to fill. He fingered the splintered piece of Holly wood in his coat pocket while looking for some money to tip the waitress who was waiting expectantly beside him with his coffee. He paused in his revery and passed her a pound coin and then dropped back into his private world.
A loud bang, the coffee cup dropped to the floor, windows shattered. Someone was screaming over by the counter. Somewhere through the smoke a dark-haired man in a business suit with emerald eyes and glasses stood up and walked towards the door. A flash of purple light leapt through the smoke and he crumpled to the ground lifeless. The man in the duster coat fumbled on the floor looking for his broken glasses as blue flashing lights and loud sirens broke the shocked silence of the scene’s aftermath. An ashtray whistled fast through the air towards his head and with lightning-fast reflexes the man grabbed it. As he felt the cold steel of the ashtray against his finger-tips the world around him seemed to retreat and he felt himself being stretched and pulled through space.
* * * * * * * * * *
Draco sat up in bed and ordered the house-elf to fetch him a cup of morning coffee (a muggle beverage of which he had grown fond over the years). The sheets fell around his waist exposing his pale white smooth torso to shine like polished gilt in the morning light. He raised himself out of bed and walked over to the open davenport by the window. Reaching in he pulled out some letters which he put to one side and then finally the object of his search, a battered cardboard box. With a little trepidation he opened it and was sat with tears in his eyes looking at the contents. He let out a shuddering sob mid-breath and then closed the box before replacing it within his desk.
Grabbing a pale blue silk dressing gown he walked to the bay window and sat on the window seat overlooking the garden. His tears fell gently into the coffee that warmed his hands and left a small picture in steam on the glass of the window. The morning sun was finally beginning to give up the battle with the clouds as rain swept in over the rhodedendron bushes and fell softly on the acers in the ornamental Japanese garden below Draco’s window. The soft hissing of the rain on the paths and Draco’s quiet tears were the only sounds to push gently through the quiet ambience of the picture.
To think, I’d once said to him, “Malfoy’s never cry.” We had so little time, and so much love still to give.
* * * * * * * * * *
Cold stone floor beneath his knees, a slight musty smell in the air. Realizing he couldn’t see anything; he groped in his coat for a lighter or a box of matches.
“Mr. Potter,” a voice growled. “Lesson for you, never sit in public in a chair facing a window.”
He felt the air stir as a figure moved beside him, Harry prepared himself to lunge sideways into where he hoped it’s legs would be. “That won’t be necessary, Lumos” growled the unseen adversary. Blue actinic light spilled into the room from a wand tip showing the gaunt haggard outline of Mad-Eye Moody’s face with it’s grizzled white-grey hair and magical eye rolling in it’s socket scanning always around. The light showed the edges of ridged dark stalactites hanging from the ceiling and stalagmites breaking the stone floor of the cave, the gentle dripping of the water that over the millenia had formed these was just audible.
“Just a good job for you that muggle looked more like Harry Potter than you do these days,” Moody looked over to him with a half smile visible. “I don’t believe them Potter, this is why I’m going to help you out. You have a lot of enemies, I wager you’re going to need this.” Harry looked up at him questioningly his face hollow and dark under the eyes, no longer wearing glasses. “I had to break into Olivander’s for this, apparently the spell’s unique to every wand. You have the shards still?” Moody peered into him with both eyes.
Harry emptied his pocket onto the cave floor, with a metallic bounce his pocket torch fell out, several pencils, some holly wood splinters and a golden edged red feather. Moody drew his wand and stood over the pile. “Contrado Virga Pleno” He slashed his wand in the air in an arcane manner, his wand trailed golden sparks and inscribed a celtic knot in the very air itself. In the middle of the glowing knot a pale ghostly phoenix form appeared. The knot began to spin and it’s edges to coalesce into one glowing shape. The phoenix flew from the centre of what was now a scintillating sphere of phlogiston to touch the shards and pulled them into the middle of the globe of energy. The globe faded and left Harry’s complete wand glowing with a purple light levitating in mid air. Moody smiled, picked up the wand and passed it to Harry.
Harry took the wand and placed it in his back pocket.
“Harry,” the old man glared at him “elementary wand safety.” He then winked and disapparated with a bang.
For a few seconds, Harry stood there in the darkening cave watching the last sparks of the spell fade. He held his wand aloft and then tested it, the first spell he had cast in two years. “Lumos”. A calescent light lit the room. Reaching into his pocket Harry checked his cigarettes were intact, feeling the packet was crumpled he pulled one out, a harsh tasting, strong Marlboro red. He straightened the cigarette between thumb and middle finger with a stroking motion and lit it with the now recovered matches. Then he couldn’t stop himself, he fell to the floor choked with emotion and sobbed. So much dark water had passed under the bridge of his life since he last held his wand. His duster coat enfolded him and bunched up on the floor picking up dust, Harry didn’t care. Sucking hard on the cigarette in his left hand and gripping onto the wand in his right he sat on the dirt floor with tears streaming from his beautiful emerald orbs.
Alastor had seemed so sure, but the problem was Harry wasn’t. He didn’t know whether Moody was right or not, deep in his soul a demon niggled and bit. It told him that he was not innocent, that he was responsible. Along with this thought though was a pain, a pang in his heart. A longing for a blonde head buried against his shoulder, the warmth of a delicate body against him at night. The caring love shared between two people who were both powerful and sensitive to their emoti
* * * * * * * * * *
The next chapter will be longer, I promise. I felt it unfair to get into plot in what is in fact a prelude to the main bulk of the story. Thanks to Sara for betaing and Michael for encouraging me to write.