Seventh Turbulence
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
3
Views:
2,962
Reviews:
14
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
3
Views:
2,962
Reviews:
14
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.
Seventh Turbulence
Disclaimer – for god’s sake, I am not making money off this. If I am, wtf am I still doing here?!
Summary – Standing at the opposite sides of the war, Prince Draco of Slytherin never expects an enemy to bring such comfort in time of darkness. DM/HP SLASH.
Seventh Turbulence
Poisoned Ink
Chapter One
Bloodshed and Warfare
~<%>~
The black sea of soldiers in front of the Slytherin castle reached as far as the eye could see. The black, dull armor rippled within the grounds, each heaving anxiously at the thought of bloodshed. The captains, gripping their swords and spears, sitting on the backs of Dragons that breathed fire sparks in the air with the ever subtle shaking with their massive heads, murmured commands to the soldiers.
The residents in the castle were not so ill prepared neither.
The once glorious castle looked old and worn out under the dim sunlight. Behind the stone wall stood soldiers with their bows docked in their hands, their eyes watching the black crowd with alert. The generals stood with the soldiers, their eyes shining with arrogance. Look further into the castle. Lines of men bearing swords stood rigidly, radiating with nervousness.
A Dragon growled and pushed the ground with its claws, lifting in the air with its wings. The captain flew across the front lines, shouting distinct orders at the soldiers. The Dragon lands and drums rang through the air, as if it was on cue.
“What is happening?” Blaise grunted, nudging the prince beside him with his elbow. The prince swung his word in annoyance. “Charge. They are getting ready to charge.”
Blaise tightened his told on his sword and stared at the dark captain intensely.
“No need to be nervous,” Draco murmured.
Blaise sniffed silently.
The drum stops. The echo of the last hit rang in the air, circling the battle ground before dispersing.
“Get ready!” Draco shouted, watching the black army closely, “Arrows!”
The archers straightened, and tightened their bows. Their faces twisted with the strain to hold the bow.
One of the Dragons roared and took its flight into the air. The black wave moved, charging forward and shouting their war cries.
Draco tightened his own bow, aiming at the front line carefully as they ran nearer and nearer.
“Fire!” he yelled, and released his sword, smirking in satisfaction as several rows in the front fell to the rain of arrows. He reached behind his back and prepared another, noting as the other archers did the same.
The army was getting closer now, the Dragon circling the castle in the sky, spitting out fire every now and then.
“Fire!” he shouted again. There goes several rows again. But it was not enough; couple dozens of the enemy’s death could not overcome thousands that came behind it. “Fire at free will!” he cried after the second notch had been released.
Voldemort’s army was at the foot of the castle now. Ladders, carried by the soldiers were being straightened up the castle walls. Clinging to those ladders were dozens of soldiers, and they begin to climb as soon as the latter hit the stone edge of the castle.
“Ladders!” Blaise shouted as Draco gave up his bow and drew his sword, swinging wildly at the dark lord’s soldiers who were starting to fill the outer platform of the castle.
Occasionally, a ladder was shot down by arrows and fell onto the lower grounds, squashing the black soldiers along with the soldiers on the ladder. But it was too few, too few for the countless black soldiers that just kept coming and coming.
Draco frowned as he stabbed his sword forcefully at yet another soldier. He had been asking for the werewolves’ aid three days ago. Where were they? Were they merely late, or did Slytherin lose another alliance?
~~<%>~~
Two Days Ago.
“Lord Trimble!” the Slytherin messenger panted, shuffling his dark green coat around himself tighter in the cold. “King Malfoy of Slytherin calls for your aid, my Lord.”
The ruler of the werewolves shifted in his throne, covered in fur. The werewolves were known to prefer the cold weather in the Mountains of Armya, which sat merely two days away from the Slytherin Castle, if one were to travel fast and light.
“For?” Trimble leaned forward, gaining space between him and the messenger. He always liked Slytherin, but for such an ancient and powerful kingdom to ask for help was not something to be overlooked. For centuries Slytherin had alone ruled the world, the one single superpower that everyone had depended on.
The leaders of Slytherin and Gryffindor were inseparable at first. Oh yes, the famous couple that everyone adored. Many people have swooned and cooed over the couple despite their fights, which happened quite often. No one paid much attention to those—what lovers did not have spats? That was until one day, the fight had gone too far and the King of Gryffindor had left Slytherins side. Bitterness grew between the two countries, but Slytherin remained an ally of Gryffindor, for the old times’ sake.
But the Gryffindor held the grudge. As the kingdom prospered and rose alongside the brilliance of Slytherin, a public decline of alliance was declared. The news had been great indeed, causing gossip from all of the other kingdoms to rise. After all, Slytherin had never had such a powerful enemy. Could Gryffindor to be that powerful to challenge Slytherin?
Trimble watched the messenger closely as the messenger shifted uncomfortably. “Slytherin is at war, my Lord. Voldemort’s army arrives in Slytherin in two days, at the most.”
Trimble’s eyes widened.
“Voldemort?” He questioned hesitantly.
“Yes,” The messenger straightened, “His army is intending to take over the Slytherin Castle.”
Trimble frowned. Voldemort. The name was familiar, yes, so familiar it was clawing at the back of his mind, but never quite emerging itself. Shaking his head, he decided he would get answers after Slytherin had won their battle.
~~~<%>~~~
“My Prince,” Nott jerked his head from the top of the castle and shouted, “We can’t hold them anymore!”
Draco grunted and turned to Nott, slashing his sword behind a soldier, stabbing it into the body of a black soldier that was creeping up to him.
“My Prince?” Nott asked again.
“Draw out the backup.” The Prince said calmly, running up closer to the balcony where Nott stood.
“Backup?” Nott frowned in confusion. “What backup?”
Draco signed dramatically. They had always kept a backup but never told anyone but the important captains about it, not wanting the army to depend on it.
He tilted his head slightly to the left, gesturing at the oak door that was left of Nott.
“In there,” he said simply, running up the stairs and standing beside Nott.
Nott smiled nervously and pushed the door open, grimacing at the long squeak it produced. His mouth dropped once the door had been opened wide.
There were rows of them. Dressed in shiny armor and green Slytherin cloaks that were unstained by blood, they stood rigid like stone statues in the room. There were at least a thousand of them, lead by Crabbe.
“Vincent?!” Nott gaped, his mouth opening and closing without producing a sound. “You’ve been leading them all this time? And here I was wondering where you were during all those battles…”
Crabbe smirked and nodded politely to Nott.
“Well?” Draco tapped his foot impatiently, “Bring them out from the west bridge and take them by surprise. That’s where most of the black soldiers are.”
“Yes, my Prince,” Crabbe smirked slightly and lead his group towards the back door, nudging Nott on his way.
Nott jerked out of his trance and quickly followed, shooting Draco a last look of confusion.
~~~~<%>~~~~
Draco watched in satisfaction as a group of green slammed into the black near the west bridge, causing one of the Dragons to jerk in surprise and change the direction of its flight. The extra soldiers made their way through the black crowd, slashing and stabbing, joining the others.
Finally, the Slytherin forces were slowly overcoming the ones of Voldemort. If they had two more thousand to take them by surprise, even one thousand, the victory was in their hands for sure.
Draco cast one last glance to the battle field, grimacing at the blood that covered the castle and ran into the back door.
He shuddered once he was inside. It was much quieter, without the sounds of metal colliding and the screams. The castle also seemed to have certain warmth that Draco couldn’t put his finger on.
“Father,” he nodded at the nervous figure pacing up and down the isle. The King was dressed in his armors, his hands gripping his sword frequently and listening to the sounds of war with hunger.
Draco smiled. The council had prevented his father from fighting in the battle, convincing him that the most important thing was to make sure their King is in good health.
“Draco!” the King breathed in relief, “How is everything managing? Are we..?”
“Barely,” Draco slid his sword back into its case, wringing his hands together. “The backup seemed to have a very powerful effect. All we need is one more thousand to take them by surprise and then…”
Draco jerked his head towards the windows, his sentence interrupted by a howl in the air. Running to the windows without hesitation, he grinned as the werewolves lined up at the east side of the battle ground.
“Well then,” The King smiled and put his hand on the bloody shoulder of his son, “Victory is ours.”
~~~~~<%>~~~~~
Draco walked through the now deserted battleground, carefully avoiding the corpses on the ground. The site after battle seemed to put a stop to everyone’s cheery spirits, as they looked at the sacrifices made for victory.
“So many,” Draco murmured, watching as the men carried the corpses away to bury, “So many have died.”
“My Prince?” Blaise interrupted, “We managed to capture a captain.”
Draco turned around in interest. Indeed, Behind Blaise, several men held the chains that bonded a disheveled figure, its face covered in torn black fabric of his hood. Standing near him, a Dragon lay on its sides, dead on the ground.
The black captain made a failed struggle as Draco made his way to him, studying him closely.
He jerked his head as Draco raised his hand to his hood. Silver eyes hardening, Draco pulled the hood off roughly, and found himself staring into the brightest emerald eyes he’s ever seen.
A/N
Well, that’s it for the first chapter. Please review! Reviews are very much appreciated. I would be very thankful if someone is willing to beta for this story. So if you are interested in betaing the story, please leave a review with your email address or a MSN messenger screen name or…something that I can contact you with.
Summary – Standing at the opposite sides of the war, Prince Draco of Slytherin never expects an enemy to bring such comfort in time of darkness. DM/HP SLASH.
Seventh Turbulence
Poisoned Ink
Chapter One
Bloodshed and Warfare
~<%>~
The black sea of soldiers in front of the Slytherin castle reached as far as the eye could see. The black, dull armor rippled within the grounds, each heaving anxiously at the thought of bloodshed. The captains, gripping their swords and spears, sitting on the backs of Dragons that breathed fire sparks in the air with the ever subtle shaking with their massive heads, murmured commands to the soldiers.
The residents in the castle were not so ill prepared neither.
The once glorious castle looked old and worn out under the dim sunlight. Behind the stone wall stood soldiers with their bows docked in their hands, their eyes watching the black crowd with alert. The generals stood with the soldiers, their eyes shining with arrogance. Look further into the castle. Lines of men bearing swords stood rigidly, radiating with nervousness.
A Dragon growled and pushed the ground with its claws, lifting in the air with its wings. The captain flew across the front lines, shouting distinct orders at the soldiers. The Dragon lands and drums rang through the air, as if it was on cue.
“What is happening?” Blaise grunted, nudging the prince beside him with his elbow. The prince swung his word in annoyance. “Charge. They are getting ready to charge.”
Blaise tightened his told on his sword and stared at the dark captain intensely.
“No need to be nervous,” Draco murmured.
Blaise sniffed silently.
The drum stops. The echo of the last hit rang in the air, circling the battle ground before dispersing.
“Get ready!” Draco shouted, watching the black army closely, “Arrows!”
The archers straightened, and tightened their bows. Their faces twisted with the strain to hold the bow.
One of the Dragons roared and took its flight into the air. The black wave moved, charging forward and shouting their war cries.
Draco tightened his own bow, aiming at the front line carefully as they ran nearer and nearer.
“Fire!” he yelled, and released his sword, smirking in satisfaction as several rows in the front fell to the rain of arrows. He reached behind his back and prepared another, noting as the other archers did the same.
The army was getting closer now, the Dragon circling the castle in the sky, spitting out fire every now and then.
“Fire!” he shouted again. There goes several rows again. But it was not enough; couple dozens of the enemy’s death could not overcome thousands that came behind it. “Fire at free will!” he cried after the second notch had been released.
Voldemort’s army was at the foot of the castle now. Ladders, carried by the soldiers were being straightened up the castle walls. Clinging to those ladders were dozens of soldiers, and they begin to climb as soon as the latter hit the stone edge of the castle.
“Ladders!” Blaise shouted as Draco gave up his bow and drew his sword, swinging wildly at the dark lord’s soldiers who were starting to fill the outer platform of the castle.
Occasionally, a ladder was shot down by arrows and fell onto the lower grounds, squashing the black soldiers along with the soldiers on the ladder. But it was too few, too few for the countless black soldiers that just kept coming and coming.
Draco frowned as he stabbed his sword forcefully at yet another soldier. He had been asking for the werewolves’ aid three days ago. Where were they? Were they merely late, or did Slytherin lose another alliance?
~~<%>~~
Two Days Ago.
“Lord Trimble!” the Slytherin messenger panted, shuffling his dark green coat around himself tighter in the cold. “King Malfoy of Slytherin calls for your aid, my Lord.”
The ruler of the werewolves shifted in his throne, covered in fur. The werewolves were known to prefer the cold weather in the Mountains of Armya, which sat merely two days away from the Slytherin Castle, if one were to travel fast and light.
“For?” Trimble leaned forward, gaining space between him and the messenger. He always liked Slytherin, but for such an ancient and powerful kingdom to ask for help was not something to be overlooked. For centuries Slytherin had alone ruled the world, the one single superpower that everyone had depended on.
The leaders of Slytherin and Gryffindor were inseparable at first. Oh yes, the famous couple that everyone adored. Many people have swooned and cooed over the couple despite their fights, which happened quite often. No one paid much attention to those—what lovers did not have spats? That was until one day, the fight had gone too far and the King of Gryffindor had left Slytherins side. Bitterness grew between the two countries, but Slytherin remained an ally of Gryffindor, for the old times’ sake.
But the Gryffindor held the grudge. As the kingdom prospered and rose alongside the brilliance of Slytherin, a public decline of alliance was declared. The news had been great indeed, causing gossip from all of the other kingdoms to rise. After all, Slytherin had never had such a powerful enemy. Could Gryffindor to be that powerful to challenge Slytherin?
Trimble watched the messenger closely as the messenger shifted uncomfortably. “Slytherin is at war, my Lord. Voldemort’s army arrives in Slytherin in two days, at the most.”
Trimble’s eyes widened.
“Voldemort?” He questioned hesitantly.
“Yes,” The messenger straightened, “His army is intending to take over the Slytherin Castle.”
Trimble frowned. Voldemort. The name was familiar, yes, so familiar it was clawing at the back of his mind, but never quite emerging itself. Shaking his head, he decided he would get answers after Slytherin had won their battle.
~~~<%>~~~
“My Prince,” Nott jerked his head from the top of the castle and shouted, “We can’t hold them anymore!”
Draco grunted and turned to Nott, slashing his sword behind a soldier, stabbing it into the body of a black soldier that was creeping up to him.
“My Prince?” Nott asked again.
“Draw out the backup.” The Prince said calmly, running up closer to the balcony where Nott stood.
“Backup?” Nott frowned in confusion. “What backup?”
Draco signed dramatically. They had always kept a backup but never told anyone but the important captains about it, not wanting the army to depend on it.
He tilted his head slightly to the left, gesturing at the oak door that was left of Nott.
“In there,” he said simply, running up the stairs and standing beside Nott.
Nott smiled nervously and pushed the door open, grimacing at the long squeak it produced. His mouth dropped once the door had been opened wide.
There were rows of them. Dressed in shiny armor and green Slytherin cloaks that were unstained by blood, they stood rigid like stone statues in the room. There were at least a thousand of them, lead by Crabbe.
“Vincent?!” Nott gaped, his mouth opening and closing without producing a sound. “You’ve been leading them all this time? And here I was wondering where you were during all those battles…”
Crabbe smirked and nodded politely to Nott.
“Well?” Draco tapped his foot impatiently, “Bring them out from the west bridge and take them by surprise. That’s where most of the black soldiers are.”
“Yes, my Prince,” Crabbe smirked slightly and lead his group towards the back door, nudging Nott on his way.
Nott jerked out of his trance and quickly followed, shooting Draco a last look of confusion.
~~~~<%>~~~~
Draco watched in satisfaction as a group of green slammed into the black near the west bridge, causing one of the Dragons to jerk in surprise and change the direction of its flight. The extra soldiers made their way through the black crowd, slashing and stabbing, joining the others.
Finally, the Slytherin forces were slowly overcoming the ones of Voldemort. If they had two more thousand to take them by surprise, even one thousand, the victory was in their hands for sure.
Draco cast one last glance to the battle field, grimacing at the blood that covered the castle and ran into the back door.
He shuddered once he was inside. It was much quieter, without the sounds of metal colliding and the screams. The castle also seemed to have certain warmth that Draco couldn’t put his finger on.
“Father,” he nodded at the nervous figure pacing up and down the isle. The King was dressed in his armors, his hands gripping his sword frequently and listening to the sounds of war with hunger.
Draco smiled. The council had prevented his father from fighting in the battle, convincing him that the most important thing was to make sure their King is in good health.
“Draco!” the King breathed in relief, “How is everything managing? Are we..?”
“Barely,” Draco slid his sword back into its case, wringing his hands together. “The backup seemed to have a very powerful effect. All we need is one more thousand to take them by surprise and then…”
Draco jerked his head towards the windows, his sentence interrupted by a howl in the air. Running to the windows without hesitation, he grinned as the werewolves lined up at the east side of the battle ground.
“Well then,” The King smiled and put his hand on the bloody shoulder of his son, “Victory is ours.”
~~~~~<%>~~~~~
Draco walked through the now deserted battleground, carefully avoiding the corpses on the ground. The site after battle seemed to put a stop to everyone’s cheery spirits, as they looked at the sacrifices made for victory.
“So many,” Draco murmured, watching as the men carried the corpses away to bury, “So many have died.”
“My Prince?” Blaise interrupted, “We managed to capture a captain.”
Draco turned around in interest. Indeed, Behind Blaise, several men held the chains that bonded a disheveled figure, its face covered in torn black fabric of his hood. Standing near him, a Dragon lay on its sides, dead on the ground.
The black captain made a failed struggle as Draco made his way to him, studying him closely.
He jerked his head as Draco raised his hand to his hood. Silver eyes hardening, Draco pulled the hood off roughly, and found himself staring into the brightest emerald eyes he’s ever seen.
A/N
Well, that’s it for the first chapter. Please review! Reviews are very much appreciated. I would be very thankful if someone is willing to beta for this story. So if you are interested in betaing the story, please leave a review with your email address or a MSN messenger screen name or…something that I can contact you with.