Harry Potter 1. Voyeur

WHAA! I've done something I never thought nor wanted to do… it started with simple curiosity, very human but became… infatuation. Indeed, I once said that I would never consider reading Harry Potter fanfiction… I failed that. Then I promised myself that I wouldn't become obsessed or gush over it… heh, I gush. Finally, I vowed to the powers that be that I wouldn't, **WOULD NOT EVER** write Harry Potter fanfiction. I'll be damned. 

**Authors Notes: **This story is a direct result of a conversation I had with myself and a picture I've had in my head, sorry. Please don't let my idiotic author's notes distract or deter you from the story; it's actually pretty cool I guess… My first ever (posted) serial. The rating will change if I decide to continue it, and it will be slash of course. Anyway, yes Tuxedo Jack, I'm well aware of the fact that Draco/Harry is completely implausible, damned near improbable but that's half the appeal ^_^. Also, I apologize for the crappy title, I really suck at those but… I dunno. If anyone has any suggestions, please… suggest them. Okay, that was stupid. 

**Disclaimers:** I own naught Harry Potter, nor its characters. If an original character happens to pop up, it's probably not mine either. No one sue me, every work is based off of something else, this one probably more so than others. In any case, I have no money for a lawyer, a settlement, or even the money for gas so I can drive to court so… please don't sue. Thanks. 

_In Darkness Found, Light Revealed_. 

There was sniffling coming from a clearing; he could hear it with the uncanny abilities given to those of his kind. A low moan punctuated the sobbing, shattering against the trees and he shuddered with barely repressed desire and longing, echoing the noise. He would feed well tonight, feed on a tortured soul. They were always the best eating. 

There was a figure slumped on a rock, looking for all the world like an abandoned doll, limbs limp at his sides, sprawled uncomfortably on the pine needle forest bed. He was not crying but making the valorous attempt to keep from doing so. His shoulders were shaking with suppressed sobs and his head hung low as he blinked away the threatening tears.

A twig snapped, resounding through the clearing like a gunshot and the boy's head snapped up in fear and surprised rage. His body was no longer limp, instead he was taut as a drum, standing poised and ready for action with a long stick in his right hand. "Who's there?!" He asked alarmed, though angry that someone would interrupt his misery. 

The feeder did not respond; he felt no need to. Seeing the boy in this anguished state was thrilling him to the depths of his dark soul, arousing in him a cheap excitement that was hard to come by in these woods. "Who are you?!" The boy demanded. 

The man continued watching.

The boy could feel the eyes on his skin, boring into him like scrutinizing lasers, striping him of his sanity. "I know you're there!" he screamed desperately, his unusually expressive eyes flashing in rage, "Make yourself known! Do something!" 

The man did nothing.

"Lift me out of this or condemn me to the depths of hell but do something! Don't leave me here in purgatory!" The boy's voice reached an incredible crescendo, startling flocks of birds out of their nests as tears finally rolled down his cheeks. "I can feel you watching me! Do something, don't leave me to witness my own insanity!" His voice broke over the last syllable. "Please be real," the plea came out as a whisper, "please do something to let me know you're real." 

The man stayed still and cold as death, unmoved by the desperation.

"But you're not real," the boy continued his broken diatribe, "you're just a figment of my imagination, and I've gone mad." Seemingly empty, the boy sunk to the forest floor, pine needles and loam catching in his clothing as he cried and sobbed, clutching his cloak around him like the arms of an absent parent.

The man spoke in chilling sibilance, like an icy breeze in the warm night, rattling the leaves of the trees and frightening the shaken boy, "Mars is bright tonight." 

Again, the boy was taut and anticipant, staring at the figure that appeared before him. The bright moon light seemed to absorb into his skin, leeching away the peace keeping glow, and though the darkness of shadow surrounded him, he cast none. "Mars is very bright tonight."

The boy stood still, his face relaxed and his arms held steadfast to his sides. Whether petrified in terror or accepting of his fate, he did not flinch when the man reached out to run his twig like fingers over the skin of his face, nor did he shudder in revulsion when he was embraced by this strange and dark man. However the boy's magnificent eyes fluttered closed as the man touched his cold lips to his neck. 

Afraid, docile, angry, in anguish, offended, accepting. The boy was all of those things, but above all, he was heartbroken as sharp bone pierced the flesh of his neck for he knew, he was doomed. 

***

"Actually, it wasn't a bad movie." Hermione said intelligently, nodding as she spooned sugar into her tea. 

"Not bad? NOT BAD! Hermione, that movie was awesome! I don't think I'll ever be able to wash with bar-soap again!" Exclaimed Dean Thomas with gusto, waving his hands excitedly and nearly spilling his breakfast. 

"What Moo-V is this?" 

"Ron, you really ought to take Muggle Studies, then you would know that it's pronounced 'movie'…" Hermione continued her lecture while Ron steadfastly ignored her. 

"Fight Club." Harry said around a mouthful of bacon, he was amazingly hungry this morning. He'd woken up tired and thirsty so he guzzled down his morning coffee and was on his third mug. It was strange, he'd slept well, there were no nightmares plaguing him, in fact, he couldn't remember his dream, but he knew it was bizarre. Not classifiable as a nightmare, but definitely bizarre, now he was feeling distinctly carnivorous as he wolfed down his cholesterol-laden breakfast and listened to his friends exclaim over an American Muggle movie. "Frankly, I'm surprised you watched that Hermione." 

"Why?" She asked affronted, then launched into another one of her famous lectures, "I found it fascinating, not only were there political agendas, but I think that abandoning one's frontal lobe and indulging the medulla oblongata is perfectly healthy. For a limited period of time of course, as we saw, operating solely on the sub conscious can be detrimental; everything in moderation." 

Harry rolled his eyes because Ron looked like he'd been asked to recite bad Muggle poetry in German, "Madoola whattagolla? Wha?" 

"Medulla Oblongata, Ron." Hermione continued her lecture, explaining in detail the purposes of the frontal lobe and the medulla oblongata. Ron did not fully understand the functions of the latter, so Harry said quite simply, "Fight or flight Ron. It controls the baser emotions." 

"Oh."

"That's what I was saying!" Hermione announced, a bit louder than normal due to her frustration, and headed to Transfiguration in a huff.   
  


At that precise moment, the blonde Slytherin otherwise known as Draco Malfoy strode into the Great Hall, looking for all the world as though he owned it. Harry growled low in his throat as Malfoy sent a few biting comments towards his friend, suddenly he wished he could indulge _his_ medulla oblongata and tear the git apart. His tablemates looked sideways at him, confrontations between Malfoy and Hermione were as common and regular as the sun rising in the east, there was no reason for Harry to be so upset. 

"Hey, mate, you all right?" Seamus asked gently, his voice dripping with concern and suspicion as he laid a hand on Harry's shoulder. 

The other boy jerked away and glared heatedly at Seamus for a split second before his glare became a grin. "Yup. I'm fine."

"All right then… remember, we've got Transfiguration in ten minutes." Seamus felt dizzy, he could have sworn Harry's eyes were just… no, maybe it was a trick of the light; after all, it had only been for a second, but…. Harry's eyes were red. 

**Post story Author's notes**: I know I know, Fight Club. Great movie, terrible plot device but the whole "medulla oblongata" stuck with me. Anyway, I read this wonderful fic recently that mentioned in passing the movie Fight Club (which I also do not own), and because my English teachers have instilled in me a great fear of plagiarism, so I'm citing it, read it it's incredible. Anyway, the fic is called Blood & Nails by Calmardaa, I'm telling you, that story is so good I was… well I was floored. Share the love. ^_~


	2. Tastes so Good

**Hey, if I put "Veela" in the title, do you think more people would review?  Hint hint. Please R&R, feed my starving ego; criticize, comfort, damn me into eternal hell… anything will do. **

**Disclaimers:** If I owned Harry Potter, I guess I'd have the money to buy the books, which sadly, I don't (my mom had to buy 'em).  Therefore, it would be unwise of you to sue anyway, for you would be ruining the proving-to-be-glorious life of a young girl (okay, well… not young, but I'm not old either) by depriving her of financial freedom for the rest of her natural life.  That would be no fun. Meanies.

**Authors Notes: **Thank you so much for reading and if anyone can figure out my chapter titles, it's major cyber-Kudos to them, hell, I'm not even sure what they mean.  Special thanks to Weasley Wonders, my one and only reviewer.  I appreciate it more than you will ever know.  Now, on with the show.

_In Darkness Found, Light Revealed_

Chapter 2: Tastes so Good       

Those big eyes, they drew him in like great beacons, condemning him; if it were possible to be further condemned.  The man laughed at the thought, it would have been a lark, to do something that could further damn him, not that he felt at all damned, this unlife was quite something. Liberating for all that it imprisoned him in the night; but those eyes, they were more confining than any penitentiary. Those large, seductive, innocent, magnanimous eyes!  

He regretted not taking the boy's life but there was nothing to be done; the boy had seen his face, captured his interest.  He would never see the child again.  It was painful to think it as he paced the forest with the drive of one possessed.  Possessed by beauty, by pain, seduced by a perfect, natural wonder, completely enthralled, trapped. He was spellbound. Not so ironic it would appear. 

The man craved it, lusted after the unremarkable boy.  There was nothing special about the child, he was thin, young, a gangly scrap of a thing, but he had the most exquisite eyes.  Windows to a soul they were tired eyes, dark, scared eyes.  He knew he was lost, that this thing would be his downfall, but he needed more than the taste he'd received earlier.  A gentle drop, a soft touch and his mind had been ensnared by the boy's blood, intoxicated by the scent of it; the soft, silent weeping rang in his ears a week after the incident. 

Such a pretty taste. 

Every aspect of the almost-murder had been perfect, until the boy opened his eyes. They were desperate, pleading, accepting, burning with fiery anger and overwhelming grief.  Paradoxes those things, he cursed them with all that he possessed.  Those eyes would be his undoing, the boy was alive and he had to finish his job.  It was an absolute necessity to cover his tracks.  He doubted that the child remembered anything about that night, but he couldn't afford to take the chance. Renewing the rumors of his kind would renew the hunt of his kind, but more than that… he had to relieve himself of the haunting image of that dependent stare.  Kill him… kill him… kill…

With such a pretty face. 

Keep him.  Keep him for all eternity, as a pet.  Dull his eyes into hollow, coreless orbs, empty of all emotion.  Revel in the loss of his sentiment wealth and gloat over the once deep pools as they turned flat and reflective.  Show the boy the worst things, rid him of his emotional purity, keep him as a toy, expendable.  This control that the boy had over him, that he miraculously managed to procure, it was ridiculous, revolting… all encompassing. The feeder would wrench that control from him, empty him. 

There was a touch of insanity in the child, there was a piece of him that was screaming. Not for recognition, for something else, he was an odd one that boy.  Odd, peculiar even, but beautiful in his own right. The pain he felt seeping from the boy was charming. This obsession simply could not go on; it was pathetic and inherently disturbing.  There was only one thing to be done of course, erase the pain, stifle the screaming.  

He sought the solace of silence in the boy.  

It was impossible, he knew, a flighted fancy that was unachievable by even the most powerful of his kind, though those were rare in this time of persecution.  Even killing the boy would be nearly impossible, luring him away from his protective sanctuary, draining him fully. It would be a difficult task, one he had never sought to achieve before.  It was careless of him to leave the boy alive, careless, and idealistic.  He now had to pay for his mistakes.   

The wind blew across the open ground, stirring the well kept grass in waves as he crossed the field.  The boy would be asleep, wrapped up in his castle nest, probably in a tower like a precious bird… a precious bird, but infinitely sweeter.  Birdy, what an apt nickname, ruffled hair like out of place feathers, soft and inquisitive, he even smelled like the air.  Yes, Birdy was in the tower with all of his feathered friends, he would visit him tonight. 

The window was closed but that was only a mild deterrent.  It was a simple thing to find the boy again, thrashing in his bed.  So perfect, so innocent.  His warmth would soon be gone; whatever his mortal destiny was, it would change tonight.  Tonight began everything, tonight ended everything. 

***

 "Mister Potter, I think 20 points from Gryffindor for your perpetual tardiness should be adequate compensation for my wasted time. Now sit down." 

Harry glared ferociously at his potions teacher; it was the same thing every morning, one point from Gryffindor for every minute he was late, and ten points to Slytherin when he was on time.  He was on the verge of snarling at the irate professor before something interrupted his heated stare: snickering.  

Behind him sat one: Draco Malfoy, bane of his existence, he who was currently sharing a good smirk with his lackey friends at Harry's misfortune. Malfoy was really beginning to make Harry angry.  The Gryffindor almost spun around to tell him so, but that's when things got pandemonious, Neville's cauldron exploded, hurling chunks of half congealed, greenish-grey potion across the classroom.  Everyone got splattered with the gelatinous goo and a few of the girls shrieked for it was the approximate color and consistency of troll boogers, Harry would know.    

"LONGBOTTOM!!!" Snape roared, clearing Harry's mind of all homicidal desires.  He was fiercely protective of Neville since his fifth year and having learned of the prophecy, to think that the blundering boy could have been the savior of the wizarding world was absurd, but Harry was really no better.  Anything that Snape had to say was not going to be healthy for the boy's self-esteem, and Harry wanted to be there to defend him.  "GET OUT OF THIS CLASS ROOM OR SO HELP ME –" 

Neville scampered away before Snape had the opportunity to finish his threat, trailing puddles of the murky goo after him.  The furious potions master tried time and time again to clean the classroom, using the vanishing spell that was oh-so-effective against the contents of Harry's cauldron, but failed as Neville's miraculous cauldron bomb managed to evade his wand as would a sentient being.  Hermione also tried to help, assuming that the professor's rage was interfering with his incantation, but she too failed.  Finally they both gave up, but the results of Snape's defeat were far worse than Hermione's, who only looked put-out. "Malfoy," He spat out, "inform Professor Dumbledore that there will be no classes for the rest of the afternoon.  Potter, as a further result of your chronic tardiness, you will be cleaning the room at nine o'clock sharp in detention." 

Most of the students cheered for their luck, approximately 30 minutes into the three hour class and it was over.  Harry, however, groaned; detention with Snape was like witnessing Filch in a tutu, it was scarring.  Harry had two and a half hours until lunch to dwell on it, and dwell he did. 

Lunch was a muted affair, no one was upset about missing potions, but Harry was upset about having a detention because of Neville's clumsiness, Neville was almost in tears out of guilt and mortification, Hermione was miffed because she'd lost the opportunity to learn something, and Ron was cranky on Harry's behalf.  It was not a good day.  

Said bad day was made worse by his nerves.  For some reason he felt like a six day spring wound eight days tight, he was tired, cold and downright cranky.  Whenever his friends tried to address him, he snapped at them – there was no reason why, he was just not himself. Seamus had started ignoring him because of an incident earlier that morning; the Irish boy didn't have a 9 o'clock class on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so he had tried his best to wake Harry.  The boy had not responded favorably, Seamus had to resort to dumping cold water over his head but Harry woke up and thrashed wildly, trying to claw at his assailant. Seamus escaped in time, but Harry's fingernails had managed to put a decent sized scratch in his arm.  About three seconds after blood seeped out of Seamus' arm, Harry began apologizing profusely, he understood that Seamus was only trying to help him, and he owed him big time etc.  Perhaps the effect of the words was lost on the fact that Harry was pulling his pants on in preparation for potions, but Seamus was glowering at him all through lunch. 

"I'm sorry Sea –" 

Harry's fiftieth apology was rudely interrupted by the malicious laughter of Harry's arch rival.  "For Merlin's sake Longbottom, can't you even get a simple shrinking serum right? It's third year material, that's pathetic." 

As Neville cowered in his seat, Harry growled threateningly, drawing little attention but scaring Seamus into scooting over.  "Because of you I've had to miss my favorite class.  What will mother say when she hears about this, why she'll take it up with Dumbledore! You're a menace, you should be expelled."

"Leave him alone Malfoy." Harry bit out, grinding his teeth and narrowing his gaze.  

"Or what Potter? Is hero going to come to the buffoon's rescue? Longbottom should've been drowned at birth."

Harry growled.

"Or were you and the Mudblood going to help him study, help him into a dunce instead of the typical troll? God knows Weasel is of no use, he's almost as bad as Longbottom."  This was nothing new; Malfoy was always insulting his friends, his sanity, his sexual orientation.  Tokay it just irked him to the ends of the earth, he would have sacrificed a great many things to take Malfoy's wand and shove it down his throat, maybe with a decent hex attached. "What Potter, have I struck a nerve?"

Actually, he had, something he was soon to find out as Harry literally launched himself at Malfoy, pinning the boy beneath him and pummeling the blonde with his fists.  Quite taken by surprise, it took Malfoy longer than usual to react to the physical assault.  However, once he got over the shock, he began to retaliate, ripping Harry's hair out and managing to land a few punches on his person.  The boys wrestled with each other, knocking over benches and unintentionally scaring the hell out of innocent bystanders as they were bowled over. 

When Malfoy gained the upper hand, Harry caught his wrist between his teeth and bit down hard, taking a sizeable chunk out of Malfoy's arm.  The blonde howled like a banshee and broke Harry's glasses, crunching his nose in the process.  By the time the teachers finally managed to pull the boys apart, they were both bleeding profusely and more than a little dazed. 

"Boys!" Professor McGonagall roared as she approached both guilty parties. Harry was slumped in Hagrid's firm grip as Draco was being helped to his feet by Snape, both boys were liberally splattered with blood and saliva (somehow as spitting match had begun mid-scuffle).  "DETENTION! BOTH OF YOU, FOR AT LEAST A WEEK!" she screamed, disgusted, shocked and mildly amused by their battered state. 

Harry actually tried to laugh but he accidentally spattered the blood that was dripping from his nose on the floor, he settled for grinning instead.  

"What mister Potter?" McGonagall asked icily, Potter was missing two teeth.

"I already have detention." 

"Then mister Malfoy will be joining you." She continued then turned to the half-giant, "Hagrid, please take these two to the hospital wing, see that they're taken care of.  You are both responsible for making up the homework in the classes that you miss.  This is unacceptable behavior.  50, no 100 points from each of your houses, I cannot believe this! Two Hogwarts students…"  

Professor McGonagall continued to rant at them long after they were out of ear shot. Harry never would have said so aloud, but he'd just had a defining moment, something he had been looking forward to since first year.  Applaud the Hippogriff for gashing his arm, applaud Ron Weasley for giving him a bloody nose, applaud Hermione Granger for slapping him, applaud George Weasley for knocking him out cold.  He'd seen it all but he'd never taken a shot at Malfoy for himself, he'd never actually hit him until today.  It was the most liberating feeling in the world.  His fists were sore from beating the ponce into a bloody pulp, but he couldn't feel better. 

**Post Author's Notes: **Heh, Harry and those violent tendencies of his.  I was amused by the thought of a fight but I didn't think it would get so out of hand.  Then again, I'm allowed to apply and condone that much blood, breakage, and even the loss of teeth because they're in the magical world and M. Pomfrey can wave a wand or make 'em swallow Skelegrow.  I still offer cyber-Kudos for anyone that can figure out my chapter titles.  Oh, and yeah, Birdy. Sorry, I needed something besides "boy" and "child" for Harry, so I chose Birdy… you know, soft, cute, pliable (I have a bird at home, I'd know) etcetera. 


	3. Come Hither Stare

**A witty comment from every chapter.**** ^_~**

**Author's Notes: **Yet another chapter, this one should be a little better than the last because it occurred to me that nothing significant happened last chapter save the demonstration of Harry's ferocity… I dunno. I split my lip, really bad at the corner of my mouth you know? So I can't open my mouth very wide to talk and it's made me affect this English accent thing. Instead of talking, I've been writing, writing up a storm, I hope you (my one reader) appreciate it.  

**Disclaimers: **I own them not, sue me not.  The idea is ludicrous anyway ne?  If I were making those kind of profits, I wouldn't be incapable of buying my hermit crab (Spartacus) a new cage.

_In Darkness Found, Light Revealed_

Chapter 3: Come Hither Stare

This could not continue! This tragic farce of vowing to kill the boy then failing at the last moment, stroking his soft skin instead of piercing it as he should have done, it simply could not continue.  Every time he failed he risked being discovered, persecuted.  It was an increasing danger, one he could not afford.  This childish infatuation had to end and it had to end now!  It was time to try a new tactic. 

It would be decidedly unwise to turn the boy, given his recent desire to keep him.  He was a liability, someone loved by the mortal world, someone that would force suspicion were he to disappear.  He should instead settle for a minion, someone that was below the bar that had been set by the enigmatic boy. Though that would never satisfy him. To think that a simple meeting in this very clearing could result in such… frustration, it was beyond him how the boy had effected him so, infected him with a desire to be near him. The boy would die, he would satisfy his craving and leave the boy to die, be eaten by the spiders in the grove.  The boy's death would solve his quandary, he could then return to the life he didn't live before.  He could gorge himself on his sweet blood then leave him to rot, end of problem.   

But there was a problem.  There was no way to kill him, his ghost would haunt his every waking moment, hang over his head in an ominous cloud of despair.  There was just something about him, something enrapturing.  It would be better for his Birdy to live on as his plaything, better for all parties involved, save perhaps Birdy. Birdy's well being, however, was not his concern; he cared not for the feelings of a mere mortal or for that matter, anything beneath him.  Birdy was just a pet. He would lure the boy to him get his darling to fall from his nest, and then he would die.  It wouldn't be a difficult matter; he just had to enter the boy's sub-conscious.  The blood he'd taken, the bond he'd shared, it ran so deep that with a thought he could see his Birdy's dreams, feel his Birdy's pain. 

It was ingenious really, with his pet coming to him; he would be easier to turn, easier to control.  He couldn't have risked it before tonight, but because of his pathetically routine visits to the boy, he could easily control his mind now.  If it was cheating the boy out of his dignity, he felt no guilt. There was only so much he was willing to do for honor, and denying himself one of his recent obsessions was far beyond that line.  

"Come to me little one." 

With a thought, he was there, silently watching what the boy watched, seeing as his Birdy saw. For such a high-flying creature as his little pet, the business he was conducting was demeaning.  It was of no matter; his mortal life would be left far behind, lost as an unspeakable past.  That was the beauty of immortality, time was irrelevant, the past was of no consequence just as the future was preordained inevitability. Birdy would come and be claimed, then he would live forever without this unbecoming memory. 

"Come to me precious Birdy."

There was no response from his prey but that expected.  His intriguing little boy was so tired; he would not even feel the intrusion unless he was particularly skilled in the art. The boy would merely feel a compulsion to wander into the Forbidden Forest, he would meet an overwhelming desire to obey the summons.  

All he required was patience.

It would not happen tonight, he knew.  The castle was too well guarded for that, but it would happen soon. His prey would be drawn away from his safe little nest, exposed to the cold reality of his dreams.  No, not tonight, but Birdy would flee his nest eventually, he would hear the summons, he would come.  Whether he wanted to or not.  

Patience.

He could wait.  Wait and wait and wait for all of eternity he could wait.  But he wouldn't. The feeder made the call stronger, his growing appetite for this ordinary boy not sated by the promise of later.  Waiting wasn't an option with his current prey, not as it had been with his victims of the past. Something about the boy appealed to his deeper nature, stripping him to his primal core and revealing his ferocity.  

The boy would be his and they would waltz through eternity, feeding and reveling in all that the night had to offer.  Romanticizing the brutality of their lives, the boy would make a fantastic edition to the monotonous drill of feeding, taking, raping, killing it would all be beautiful through the eyes of another. Birdy would live until he grew tedious.  He would live on until his mysteries were unraveled like fabric and his secrets grew regular. Birdy would come, Birdy would go, perhaps not for a long while, but Birdy would go. 

First, however, Birdy would come, and he would be waiting.  Lingering in the shadows, luring his brave Birdy into the night with him.  He would be there, lying in wait.  And Birdy would come. 

***

"Are you all right? You look pale."

"I'm fine Mum." Harry asserted, shoving Hermione's hand away from his forehead. He wasn't ill, and he wasn't feverish, he was just… tired.  He'd been having strange dreams for over a week and the detentions with Malfoy didn't help his state of mind.  More often than not they'd been running to midnight and past, every night for a month he'd been trapped in some manual labor to end it with a nightmare. Harry was tired; maybe he would take a nap in History of Magic.

 "Very funny Harry. At least I'm not Ron's Mum." Hermione answered, miffed and amused by the joke. She shoved more breakfast at him, cutting up his waffles for him as Ron rolled his eyes expressively. "Maybe you should eat more." 

Harry tried a few bites, but it just turned to cardboard in his mouth.  There was no reason for him to eat something he wouldn't enjoy, so he put down his fork and listened to his friend's playful banter.  

Hermione was thumping Ron on the back as he recovered from a sudden coughing spurt that caused him to choke. Seamus was congratulating Dean on his first Quidditch goal and Neville was fighting with some impossibly thick syrup.  He smiled at their antics and absorbed all the happiness he could in order to counter the misery of his next Potions lesson.  

Speaking of Potions, he was going to be late if he didn't hurry.  Gulping down his orange juice, he sped off in the direction of the dungeons intending to be early for once.  In his current state, he was liable to make a mistake and blow up the dungeon, there was no reason to give Snape more grounds for ridicule by being late. The Potions master was not afraid to employ cruel and unusual punishment. 

Harry wasn't late to potions that morning, but he was late to detention.  Professor McGonagall glared daggers at him while Malfoy snickered behind her.  "I'm sorry Professor, I got caught up in my homework."  

He barely contained laughter as she nodded curtly and let him off the hook with a simple warning, "Mister Potter, you are here to be punished and while homework is an admirable pursuit, I suggest you keep your eyes on your watch." 

"Yes Professor." They were cleaning all of the toilets, the Muggle way of course, apparently giving the house elves a break was suitable punishment for delinquent students.  They had both healed very quickly with the magical aid of Madam Pomfrey, there was no question of why they were forced to endure this demeaning agony.  Dumbledore was trying to teach them a lesson; between the indefinite detentions and being forced to work together, the headmaster was obviously trying to put a stop to their constant fighting. Thus far, his plan had failed in a spectacular way.

McGonagall locked them in the bathroom and left them, tired of their constant bickering.  She confiscated their wands and delivered an ultimatum that made them shudder. "If either one of you is so much as bruised when I collect you, I will make sure you have detention until the rest of the year."  

Left to their work, Harry took the far left stall and Malfoy took the far right.  They scrubbed dutifully until the toilets were shining; they then moved to clean the sinks, working in perfect harmony, but also in oppressive silence.  They cleaned every bathroom in the castle this way, McGonagall came to collect them when she sensed that they were done, and moved them to another toilet.  It was four hours of long, grueling work, and the thought of bed was all that was keeping the boys from falling over. 

Finally they were done, every toilet clean, every sink scrubbed, and every floor wiped down.  Feeling like a zombie, Harry moved towards the Great Hall; he had become disoriented and had finished his work in an obscure corner bathroom in the east-tower, a place he rarely visited.  Surprisingly Malfoy joined him, shrugging away Harry's speculative stare because he too was lost.

He was too tired to care, so tired that he briefly considered exiting the double doors in search of some fresh air and the strength to get him back to the tower. In fact, air sounded like the perfect remedy for the weariness that was crushing his bones, yes air. 

"Potter? Where the hell do you think you're going?" 

Harry didn't even hear him, he just kept moving towards the doors.  Air.  He didn't even feel it when he fell. 

"Oh Jesus, Potter.  What the hell are you on?" Harry had passed out about three feet away from the doors and landed heavily on his side.  Malfoy brought him around with a few gentle slaps and eventually a spell. "Enervate."

Harry opened his eyes dizzily, wondering what the hell Malfoy had done to him.  He didn't remember fighting with the blonde, but it was known to happen.  In fact, he didn't remember much at all, the last thing his memory would recall was the rim of a toilet bowl as he scrubbed it.  "Wha?"  A moment later he came to his senses and realized that Malfoy was leaning over him with a wand pointed his direction and deduced that he must have been hexed, "Get off me you git!"

When leaping to his feet landed him on his rump, Harry realized that he couldn't stand, something Malfoy obviously saw because a moment later he was being hoisted to his feet from under his arms.  "Come on Potter, get up, let's move.  That's a boy."

Harry snarled and jerked away from the supporting grip of his rival, only to go crashing to his knees once again.  "Jesus Potter, I'm trying to help you!"

"Get the hell away from me! I'm fine!" 

He clawed at Malfoy's arm but the blonde was having none of it. "No you're not. Come on; get up, which way to Gryffindor dorms?"

Harry was finally forced to accept Malfoy's help, however grudgingly, and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet once more.  He didn't have the strength to argue as Malfoy led him to his own dormitory, treating him like a child by half-carrying him.  Harry was still dizzy, not having received the air he so craved, he was falling asleep against the other boy and crashed to the floor once more because Malfoy was having an argument with the Pink Lady and not holding on to him. 

"Oh for the love of… Potter, what's the password?  Come on, wake up, you've got to get to your dorms and this hag won't let me in." 

"I beg your pardon!" 

"It's uh…" Harry thought for a long moment, his brain had gone numb and fuzzy; he really, really needed some air, he needed to get outside. "It's Constantinople."  

The portrait of the Pink Lady swung open with an affirmative 'creak' and Malfoy heaved Harry inside before following him.  The Slytherin sniffed, feeling a distinct sense of superiority, everything in this room was hectic and disorganized, while clean it felt… messy.  

Malfoy rolled his eyes as Harry stumbled towards a window and shoved the nearly unconscious Gryffindor into an arm chair, opening the window himself.  Harry probably wouldn't remember his uncharacteristic kindness in the morning, something he was grateful for as he pushed his way out of the common room. Having Potter ask him about this morning would be a disaster.  Knowing Potter, it would be a public disaster, one he was not ready to deal with at the moment. He was disgusted with himself, but for some reason he was reluctant to leave Potter lying on the floor for anyone to find.  There was something dishonorable about it.  

Draco Malfoy fled to the sanctuary of the dungeons with a great deal more on his mind that toilet bowls. 

**Post Author's Notes: **I do believe that I see the emergence of a plot! I also see that I have a petulant vampire. I mean, did you hear him whining in the first paragraph… does baby want a bottle? By the way, yes, I'm aware of the fact that our Darling Draco ::snickers:: was out of character, I know it, you know it, lets move on. DM/HP slash is out of character, I just do my best.  Just out of curiosity, Gryffindors are in the west-tower, right? Well, in this story they are.  


	4. Politics

**WOW! So many reviews, I'm excited. Unimaginably excited. ** So, in answer to your reviews…

**Weasley Wonders:** THANK YOU! You've reviewed every one of my chapters and you were my first reviewer so my deepest and most sincere thanks. 

**Skye:** I have to ask… why is Harry a sick ba*truck goes by*?  Aside from the fact that he bit Draco and all that ::snickers:: 

**Tuxedo Jack:** Aw, you know I love the entendres. I'm completely ineffectual at writing anything less than blatant insinuations when it comes to innuendo.  As for detail, I really don't know, I could add endless detail, but I've come to hate purple (prose).  Anyway, once again, thank you. 

**Cardboardboxkid:** Have I mentioned how much I love your pen name? Well, firstly, WOW! I ought to self-advertise more often.  Anyway, I'm happy to know that the glass slipper, however a bizarre sleep-deprived induced comment, helped.  Thank you SO much for reviewing for me! SO Much.

**Flowerfunleah:** It's a bummer that you don't read the first bits (but you will know that they're all in the same format lol), I know they're not exactly wild and adventurous (not yet), and chapter 3 sucked, but the others should be worth while. ANYWAY! Thank you for reviewing for me; frankly I don't know when they'll kiss. I'm trying to keep people in character while maintaining the basic storyline so it may take a while.  Confrontations ahead.   

**Mandraco: **Thank you for your review, though on the grammar thing, I would be willing to bet that all contradictions are intentional.  I'm usually pretty careful with grammar and homonyms because I'm critical of that when I review other people, I watch that so I'm not hypocritical.  Actually, a lot of my contradictory adverbs hold a deeper meaning such as deliberate confusion versus perfect, insightful clarity into a characters psyche.  Anyway, thanks again, keep reading and I will put this through the editing grind just in case. 

**Layce74: **Thanks, I like it too… though I don't know where it's come from or where it's going yet.   

**Tuulikki****: **Thank you thank you… I talk to you via email so… yeah. I will do my best to read said recommended fic. 

**Author's Notes: **Do you know, I still haven't found a name for my vampy friend.  I was thinking something like Mordavarius, old school ne? I really don't see the necessity of a name for him but calling him 'the feeder' all the time is getting old. Anyway, let me know what you think. It's funny really, there are about two-thousand things I want to warn you about or explain after you read the second half of this chapter, but I had to limit myself to… well, I don't know that I said anything.  Anyway, this is your only warning, "I have my reasons."   

**Disclaimers: **I neither own nor hold responsibility for what I do to these characters.  Somehow, I think this is now out of my control. 

_In Darkness Found, Light Revealed_

Chapter 4: Politics

The infamous Harry Potter. His little Birdy was the famous and much revered Harry Potter.  Even in his world, far away from the mortal news circuit he had heard of Harry and his conquests. Throughout the wizarding world the boy was renowned, loved, cherished, and put on the pedestal of heroism.  Poor little Birdy.

On one of his many jaunts into the boy's mind, the feeder realized as Harry looked into a mirror and blew his bangs out of his eyes, exactly what the scar on his forehead meant.  This boy would be harder to obtain than any other victim, harder to consume than any food before him.  His identity explained so many inconsistencies with his character.  His dear little Birdy felt the need to save everything from everything else, but he also felt the need to destroy the world and everything in it.  His anger and resistance were now charming aspects of his life instead of inconveniences; however, endearing as they may be, his will was not something to be trifled with.  

Once again the feeder had to revise his scheme; clearly luring the boy out into the forest would raise questions.  Such a conspicuous force as Harry Potter would surely not be allowed back into the land which housed so many things that desired nothing more than his death.  Birdy's earlier intrusion had been a mistake, obviously it was not something intentional and certainly something that was not planned, merely precipitated by fate.  He had seemed so sad and vulnerable, perhaps he was lost.  

Then again, there was the hope that Harry's midnight escapade in the Forbidden Forest was indeed premeditated.  There was the hope that he would come back.  He had been so close, the feeder could feel his approach, he had finally given in to the summoning and he was on his way.  He had almost been outside the castle, and from there it was a short expedition to where he would be whisked away for all of time, but it was not to be.  His own weariness had interrupted his fate, bludgering him into unconsciousness and breaking the trance.  His Birdy had teetered at the edge of obedience until some unknown force interjected, it was unjust to be sure, but perhaps appropriate.  

Someone had interfered. 

Indeed, he would have to work to acquire Harry Potter as a pet. He would have to expend energies that he hadn't in centuries.  This would be quite enjoyable. It had been a ridiculously long time since he'd been stirred to action like this; he had spent a disgustingly long time trapped in the torpor of inaction.  The bore of his daily functions had become too much to bear, this unexpected motivation to conquest was a long desired necessity.   

It was time for a change in policy. 

No longer could he afford to wait for his Birdy to come to him, upon discovery, the price would be too great.  He could, however, make a show of eliminating Potter from the mortal realm.  The beautiful thing about hunting a hero was that a hero had enemies.

A missing savior would arouse no suspicion, if in the unlikelihood of being asked he could instead blame the disappearance of the celebrated hero on the equally nefarious Voldemort. 

Time to call in a favor. 

Of course, he wasn't contacting a reliable source. If anything, the man was irresponsible, reckless and sadistic; fortunately, he was utterly predictable.  It made him a wonderful asset to his homicidal tendencies, but it also made him a bore. 

He'd met Tom Riddle some fifty years ago much the same way he'd met Harry, alone in a clearing, full of emptiness.  But unlike Potter, Riddle was arrogant, performing a ritual of bravery, proving to himself that he could defeat anything in the Forbidden Forest and elsewhere.  Coincidentally, he was wrong.  Devoted to strength and anything he anticipated using in the future, Riddle was like a lap dog; though thankfully lacking in slobber.  

Of course there was a certain risk involved, a risk of being used as a tool to exterminate his former minion's arch enemy. But he was far removed from the naivety of his past, no longer innocent enough to be used as he had so many times before..  Then again, a former minion meant eternal gratitude from said minion, gratitude for being privileged enough to live.  If young Tom disobeyed his order, that privilege could be revoked easily enough.  If young Tom decided to take action against his new pet, he would know pain beyond the agony of death; he would know suffering beyond the 11 years he spent in purgatory. 

If Tom betrayed him, there would be hell to pay.  

***

Cold.  It was cold, and he was being pulled by something, towards something warm.  He was freezing, numb with the cold, there were needles of ice piercing his skin.  So cold, oh how he wanted that warmth, but he couldn't reach it from where he was. Where was he? 

He was reminded of a time when Dudley threw him in a river, the spring melts had begun and flowers were springing up in hordes, Petunia wanted nothing more than a Sunday picnic by a river and what Petunia Dursley wanted, Petunia Dursley got.  Harry was thrown into the river by his cousin and nearly dragged down the rocky river-bed before he got his balance. The water was so cold, tiny spider webs of ice were re-forming where Harry had broken them with his ungainly flight into the water.  He could feel the water flowing through and around him, pulling him away from his family, but he could not heed its call. His Uncle Vernon pulled him out a second before he lost his balance again, he could not follow the frigid water to its final destination. 

Just as he could not now. "Harry! Harry do wake up, you slept in the chair again!  Harry, you're going to be late for class."

Class was all that seemed to matter to Hermione Granger even as she tutted around him like a mother-hen, fussing over his disregard for his personal well-being.  Harry gasped and coughed, jerking awake as though he were seizing, his muscles were sore and stiff, his neck cramped and his feet were asleep, though he didn't realize that until he tried standing up.  The common room was freezing, someone had left a window open the night before and the fire had been blown out by a gust of wind.  Everyone in the vicinity was wrapped in spell-warmed bathrobes and slippers – Harry was still wearing his dirty jeans and a thin T-shirt.  "C-cold." 

"Yes Harry, we know it's cold.  What were you doing with the window open, it is mid-February!"  She scolded him, glaring where he was still sprawled against the heavy upholstery.  

"Wasn't…" he was going to say 'me' but that would have been illogical because he was the last one in.  He couldn't remember who opened the window, he'd been asleep, but someone had been with him, someone else had opened the window.  "Sorry." 

Harry pushed himself to his feet and climbed the stairs to his dorm, how wonderful it would be to skive off classes for the day and just sleep.  It wasn't as though he didn't deserve it; the constant feeling of having been run over by a bull-dozer was not one he particularly enjoyed. He slowly peeled off his sweat-damp clothes and stretched his shoulders, it would be a blessing when these miserable detentions were over, the stress was killing him.  

"Aw to hell with it." He groaned and flopped into his bed, leaving his clothes crumpled on the floor.  Missing a day of classes wouldn't kill him, McGonagall might, but at least he would have a chance to catch up on the pile of homework that had been building on his desk before he died. 

Indeed, McGonagall was unhappy with him, at approximately 2 pm, he received an angry owl that rudely interrupted his strange dream by pecking him on the nose.  The note read _"Potter, I trust you have a valid reason for not attending class, a reason that I'm sure you will be willing and able to explain in its entirety during your detention." _

Harry sighed heavily, he had five hours to do homework, one hour to beg Hermione for help, and the remaining hour to prepare himself for yet another detention in what seemed like a never ending cycle of misery. Detention with Malfoy.  Harry suddenly decided he had a headache, slowly his memories of the previous evening had returned to him, but there had to have been something missing.  He remembered Malfoy opening the window, and Malfoy scrubbing sinks, but between those two incidents, everything was a haze of unconsciousness. Why the hell was Malfoy in his dorm anyway?

With another resigned groan he shifted his potions assignments into his lap and settled down for hours of work.  He would have loved going outside and getting fresh air, taking a lap around the castle on his broom would be like heaven but if someone saw him he'd be in trouble.  After all, he was supposed to be sick enough to stay in bed, not reveling in the feel of the crisp air.  Instead he forced himself to be content with an open window and the promise that he would eventually see the outside world again.  

He should have gone to class, that's all Harry could think as the day neared its end.  Tuesdays meant Care of Magical Creatures, the fresh air would have done wonders for him but he'd missed it.  As sunset slowly crept by, Harry continued working on his homework, dreaming of a midnight jaunt around the castle grounds. Maybe into the forbidden forest, he knew he was begging for trouble, but he felt so confined in the castle.  Every breath he took felt stuffy and heavy because hundreds of people had breathed the same puff of air before him.  The simple yet oh-so-complicated act of thinking was making him dizzy and tired. 

The hours ticked by and Harry began to feel the pull of sleep, and the pull of something stronger.  It was an effort to keep his eyes open, and an impossible task to focus on his work, the mere act of holding his head up took strength that he did not have.  He felt drugged, laden down by deprivation induced morphine, he needed rest. True rest.   

His daydreaming cost him precious time, there was no opportunity to ask Hermione for help, and he completely forgot to go to dinner. There just weren't enough hours in the day to do everything _and_ take care of himself. Harry forced himself to his feet, '_accio_'d a sandwich from the kitchens and plodded down to his detention in the dungeons, accepting his fate. 

McGonagall was stern, Snape was smirking, and Malfoy was staring at him with a mixture of haughty superciliousness and concern.  Everything was normal. Harry was basically forced to grovel for his professors' forgiveness, his apology and subsequent explanation complete with 'Yes professor, no professor,' and 'never again professor' in line with their questions. By the time they finally let him be, Harry was tempted to tell them to bugger off.  Though that still left Malfoy in the immediate vicinity. 

Miraculously, said blonde didn't say a word about Harry's absenteeism, nor did he make a peep about Harry's seeming disrespect for their esteemed professors. In fact, Malfoy barely said a word save "could you pass me that rag," it was an unsettling reprieve from his biting comments.  Harry was actually beginning to miss the witty, if cruel, banter; this silence was uncomfortable, and (dare he think it?) unwelcome. 

Harry's discomfort peaked as he picked up a trophy for polishing then put it down again with vehemence, accidentally banging into a display cabinet.  Malfoy still hadn't said a word, not even a casually infuriating 'Problems Potter?'  

Well there were problems, whether Malfoy liked it or not! Harry was confused, tired, and above all, fed up with the situation.  Never mind that he was being irrational, this could not go on, if Malfoy was going to sit here and pointedly ignore him, then there was no point in being around.  The trophies could always be polished later; he was going for a much-needed walk. 

"Where the hell do you think you're going Potter?"  

Oh, so _now_ he existed, "Out."

"You are aware of the fact that you're in the middle of detention?"  Instead of malevolent his voice was merely incredulous.

"You are aware of the fact that you're a prat?" 

"Now that was just childish." Malfoy let his polishing tin fall to the floor with a clatter as he hurried to catch up with Harry, if Potter could walk out on a detention, there was no reason why he couldn't.  "Where are you going?"

"Outside, now leave me alone."

Malfoy sneered, "Is going outside, living in the wild, a Gryffindor trait or just a personal preference?"  

Harry turned and glared, then suddenly resumed his march towards the doors, ignoring the blonde that was following on his heels. "Bugger off Malfoy, is it a crime to want some fresh air?" 

"When you're in detention it is!" Harry stead-fastedly ignored him. "Oh! Stop!  There's plenty of fresh air in here and I don't want to get in trouble because of you. I've had enough of detention!" 

Harry was about to grin, one of the many advantages of being Harry Potter included getting one's enemies into trouble, but something struck him. This scenario seemed familiar somehow; he was here last night too! "You hexed me!" he announced suddenly, though he had no idea how he'd drawn that conclusion from simple de'ja'vu. 

"I did no such thing! You fainted!" 

"I do not faint!" 

"Well if you don't faint, you give a damned good impression.  What else would explain your collapsing followed by the inability to walk on your own?  Face it Potter, you were helpless."

Harry didn't have an argument for that, he couldn't remember much of last night because he was so tired.  It was highly possible he fell asleep and the London Philharmonic Orchestra played the 1812 symphony from his bedside table, he wouldn't have known it. "So if I fainted last night, why didn't you mention it?"

"Because you weren't around all day."

Oh how that condescending tone hurt, as though he were a child and the complexities of life were being explained to him, by a Malfoy no less.  Harry was beginning to hate the superiority of others, "I'm well aware of that, but if this hypothetical fainting incident occurred, you've had the last two hours to poke fun at me for it."

Malfoy rolled his eyes skyward, "It's no fun when there are no people around.  It wouldn't have been poking fun at all, it would just be taking jabs at the mentally challenged.  The look of confusion on your face isn't half as rich as that of mortification." 

Harry was silent, glaring at Malfoy with something akin to hatred.  There was no point in thinking up a witty comeback, anything he said would henceforth be regarded as slow, therefore pointless.  There was one lingering question though, why had Malfoy opened the window?  "Why did you help me then?"  Well, that question was just as good.

"I don't know." The blonde actually looked sheepish; there was no logical explanation, even in his head.  He couldn't lie because his actions of the night before would contradict everything he said.  Or maybe he just didn't feel like lying, "I guess… there's no honor in kicking a man when he's down, you know?"

"No. I don't know, I thought Malfoys had no honor." It was hitting a bit below the belt, but Harry didn't care.  Draco Malfoy had been the bane of his school years since that very first day in Diagon Alley, sometimes, he deserved what he got. 

"I appreciate the sentiment, but that's not what I meant.  There were no witnesses to see you fall on your face, and it just… it's not right to tease someone who can't stand up for himself anymore.  You should have seen it, you were like putty, I just didn't feel like –"

But just what Malfoy didn't feel like they never found out, for at  that moment a very irritable Argus Filch came bursting into the room, "Two detention escapee's I see."

Both boys groaned. 

**Post Author's Notes: Eugh! Tom Riddle, cliché much, sorry but I don't know what I was on and I'm not patient enough to fix it.  Equally Eugh, Harry's being completely irrational, I need his strange dreams and other impulses to affect him in ways beyond weariness.  Yeah, Hermione is acting like my mom and will continue to do so in the future (when I'm about to die, she badgers me about class), and yes, I've based Harry's sleeping patterns and the results of said patterns on my own life, if you know me personally and if you've ever tried to wake me up, you'll know what I'm talking about. I just want to know when _I'll_ faint into a Malfoy's arms… ah to be so fortunate. **


	5. Understandings

**Author's Notes: **Aw, you guys!  Thank you reviewers, you make me feel so loved, even though chapter 4 sucked in a big way. I found a name for vampy, I'm sure you'll read it eventually.  Finally with the updating, I'm excited! Five chapters in and I think I've finally discovered my plot. Oh, one last thing, I've decided to drop the formatting for the first half of the chapters, it took forever and… yeah.  No one cares, so I'm dropping it. 

Thanks to the reviewers from Chapter 4,

**Weasley**** Wonders: **Again, thank you, gratitude abounds, have a hermit crab *long story.* but hermit crabs beat cookies right? 

**Gh****: **Gak! You don't have an email address, or rather, you didn't give me one, otherwise I would be praising you personally.  I completely and totally, agree, to make this a Veela story, or to make one of the Cannon characters something that they are not would cheapen it.  Thanks, your review made me laugh and I appreciate it. 

**Tuulikki****: **You know, I'm interested to see what happens with it too.  Really, I don't know what's going to happen, and me thinks that Filch will be sorrier than the boys when all is said and done. ^_~. 

**Disclaimers: **If I owned Harry Potter, I would be able to afford Christmas this year wouldn't I?  Phoo, I guess I'll just have to scrape up the money elsewhere because I _obviously _don't. 

_In Darkness Found, Light Revealed_

Chapter 5: Understandings

A twig snapped in the distance and a sudden breeze whipped leaves across the clearing, scaring up the vermin and scattering them to the four winds.  Bugs in all stages of life scurried away from the new power and in the darkness, someone lifted an eyebrow.  Subtlety was never his strong suit, though his failing of the past would be ideal for his needs. 

"I am here."

"I am aware of that." The insolence, as though his presence was all that mattered to him.  Silence reigned between the two men that were not men.  They battled for supremacy, minds focused on one another as the creatures of the forest fled the scene in the event of an altercation.  The struggle persisted in the stifling quiet, even the trees shied away from the mounting power in the clearing until finally the pressure died.  Like a bursting balloon the magical tension broke and flooded the forest in a torrent.

"What do you need of me…" he bit back a wince, nearly choking on the word, "Master."  

That was better. Tom was always far more stubborn than was good for him.  He suspected that Harry would be much the same way, but he would be so much more fun to break. 

"Very good Tom, I need a distraction." He smiled for the first time in years, a dark, terrifying smile that would have anyone but Voldemort quaking in their respective boots. "A distraction that I'm sure you'll be able to provide."

Voldemort shuddered.  Tom shuddered.  He was suddenly sixteen years old again, fighting down the urge to run screaming into the forest, anything that this man could need of him would surely be bad for his health. He expected to come back to this place after so many years to reap his revenge for so many years of servitude. He wanted to enslave his former master to his will, as an asset, no longer a skeleton in his closet.  

Yellow eyes gleamed in the darkness, he understood.  Tom was reluctant, his sudden leadership revoked by someone that had been hovering on the brink of his memories for years.  Now he was resurrected, the terror and exhilaration of those days submerged him in remembrance, terrible, awful remembrance. But he held no sympathy for him, there was a job to be done.  Tom had brought this on his own head, he knew magic better than anything alive, but he had no respect for creatures more powerful than he.  He did not acknowledge them, a nearly fatal mistake as it were. 

They both understood.

"I will do as you ask of me Master." Again he choked on the word; it was foul on his tongue. 'Master' as though he were some slob, a fool with nothing better to do than jump to attention when called upon. Though he seethed at the honorific, there was nothing to be done, his past was inescapable, and maybe, just maybe the favor would be returned. Though he hated more than anything to admit it, someone as powerful as Scion could help in conquering his foresworn enemy, and the useless boy.  Such a favor could be useful.

"Excellent."

***

"Frankly, giving us more detention would be a wasted effort." This was delivered without so much as a sneer, it was the honest truth.  After subjecting them to months of punishment, the ministry would interfere if the boys were expelled, and the threat of detention no longer deterred them from disobeying the rules. 

"I quite agree.  However, you were both being punished and you both decided to ignore that punishment.  Therefore, you will not be able to attend Hogsmeade with your peers this weekend, though as far as I'm concerned, your detentions are over." 

Filch looked flabbergasted as Harry Potter once again avoided punishment, it just wasn't fair! The snotty little wizard had been running around the castle for years, avoiding the punishment that he so richly deserved, this was an outrage!  "But Professor –!"

"Yes thank you Argus, I'm sure I can handle it from here."  There was nothing Filch could say to that, so he stormed out of the Headmaster's office to go sulk in his corner of the castle.  Any students that were out of bed tonight were in for a rough night. 

"Now, Mister Potter, Mister Malfoy…" Malfoy had been conducting the meeting with the Headmaster while Harry was staring out a window scowling darkly because his much-needed trip outside was once again thwarted by circumstance.  "It would appear as though the detentions have served their purpose. You seem to be getting along quite well, wouldn't you agree?"  Malfoy merely snorted, Harry had looked ready to kill him earlier, and if Dumbledore considered ignoring each other 'getting along' he wasn't about to argue. 

"Harry? You look very gloomy over there, what are you thinking?" When Harry didn't respond, he tried again, "Harry?"

Harry turned around, growling almost inaudibly as he glared at his Headmaster and classmate.  They both had identical expressions of incredulous surprise and something akin to concern on their faces as Harry gave them an appraising look, then returned to looking out the window. 

"Is there anything wrong Harry?" 

Malfoy smirked broadly, "Harry's just cranky because he didn't get his walk."  

The Gryffindor, quite oblivious to the Headmaster's indulgent smile, turned on Malfoy with a snarl. "I'm not a dog, Malfoy. I'm 'cranky' because I'm sick of being cooped up in the same room with you!" 

"Perhaps you aren't getting along as well as I liked and your detentions should continue," Dumbledore said with false remorse but upon seeing the faces of the boys, he amended his statement, "then again… Harry, I understand you're prone to long walks in the dark and this castle with all of its mystery can become too much.  Though for tonight I would like you boys to head straight to your dorms, you are free to resume your regular nightly activities." 

Harry didn't say a word as he stood from his precarious perch on the window ledge and walked out of the Headmaster's office. Seconds later, after a quick and strategic "thank you Headmaster," Malfoy followed him.  Harry was waiting for him by the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the Headmaster's office; he offered no explanations for his actions but simply walked with Malfoy towards their dorms.  

"He is very indulgent of you."  It was more of an observation than an insult. 

Harry viciously kicked at a statue and watched with malicious glee as the tip of a stone sword hit the ground with a loud crack.  "He always has been." He said softly, Malfoy had to strain to hear him after the clanging mêlée of the stone on stone.  "I think I hate him."

"Doesn't everyone?"

Harry shook his head, he was suddenly so very tired, Dumbledore always had this effect on him, he was always so tired when he left the Headmaster's office. "No."  He felt as though his brain had been run though a cotton mill; it was whole when he was eleven, but very recently it had been turned to mush. "Most people respect him."

"Most people don't know him." 

"It's true, he's very manipulative."  

This was surreal, it wasn't right to be standing in the middle of a corridor discussing Dumbledore with Harry Potter. He was so calm, so surprisingly calm as he stared at the wreckage of the suit of armor, it was disturbing. "We ought to go," and he turned to leave. 

"Malfoy." Harry's voice didn't even waver, though it couldn't at so soft a pitch. 

"What?"

"I've done something stupid."  And so he had, when Harry kicked over the armor, his foot had hit the stone wall behind it in a rather disastrous way.  Malfoy hadn't noticed, but Harry had been leaning against the wall with his foot still resting on the statue that he'd damaged.  When he moved it away, he winced in pain and held it at an awkward angle, at least one of his toes was broken and he could feel the bones deeper within his foot grinding against each other painfully. This was not good.  "I don't suppose you know any healing spells?"

"Christ Potter! What possessed you?" 

Now that was a good question. Had he been possessed or was releasing his considerable frustration upon the statue of the knight something he did of his own volition? "I was angry." He had been furious, inexplicably furious. The funny thing was, his foot didn't hurt at all, it was as though this were an illusion and his foot was fine, the skin wasn't broken, and he couldn't see his toes through his shoe, he just felt that everything was off somehow. 

He had had broken bones before, Dudley had once broken his collar bone and he spent weeks in a cast that no one had signed out of fear of his cousin.  Uncle Vernon had shrugged it off as rough housing and signed for the doctor's bill with a displeased grunt as he worried over the expense.  A bludger had shattered his ulna in 2nd year, the year that Gilderoy Lockhart removed his bones, it had been agony re-growing them; comparatively this felt like a spider bite.  

"Angry." Malfoy's voice was incredulous as he wondered how Harry survived his childhood.  With a temper like that, it was a small wonder he hadn't broken more. 

"I guess I'm asking for your help." That was obvious. "I don't suppose you know any good healing spells." Malfoy shook his head as he slung one of Harry's arms around his shoulders. "No.  You should go to Madame Pomfrey."

"At this hour she'll kill me." That was true, it was at least one o'clock in the morning, Madame Pomfrey would have their ears and all that was attached for causing problems this late. Then Dumbledore would be called in, Harry didn't think he could he could handle anymore Dumbledore for one day.  "If you could just get me to my dorm." He grunted. 

"Yeah yeah, Gryffindor dorms fix everything. At this rate I'm worried for your sanity." Malfoy rolled his eyes skyward as he and Harry began the trek to Gryffindor tower. "Twice in one week."  

"In as many days," Harry corrected. "Join the club." 

They moved slowly, Harry leaning heavily on his Slytherin counterpart. It was an effort to break up the monotony, as they moved through the thick shadows.  Malfoy had never realized it before, but there were an astounding amount of spider webs in this castle, it was really quite disgusting.  "So what are you doing this weekend?" 

Harry looked at him like he'd grown a second head. 

"Come off it Potter, I'm just trying to lighten the mood.  I don't want to be thinking about your foot anymore." 

"Pansy."

"Pansy would do her best to step on it. I'm just grossed out." He was joking of course, but this night couldn't get any more strange.  

Malfoy was mistaken, however, because Harry laughed, and that increased the outlandish experience tenfold.  "Is she as scary as she looks?" 

Scary, Pansy?  Yes, Malfoy supposed she was scary in her own right, scary unless you held the key to her existence. "Yes, but you never answered my question.  What are you doing this weekend."

"Going for a walk." Harry said simply, he had every intention of fulfilling his dream of getting fresh air. It obviously wouldn't happen tonight, and probably not for the rest of the work week, but he absolutely _had_ to go out, it was unavoidable.  

"Not at this rate."  They had reached the stairs, it would be a struggle to get up them, but that was the price Harry paid for breaking his foot on the first floor when he lived on the fifth. "Come on Potter, I'm not about to carry you."

"You may have to; I'm beginning to feel it."

Malfoy blanched. It had hurt like hell and beyond when that damned hippogriff got to him, he'd never broken a bone in his life, how could Potter stand this?   

"I don't know. A lot of practice I guess." Harry said, his voice beginning to crack with pain.  

Malfoy blinked, he didn't think he'd said that aloud but maybe he had.  The staircase began to move and Harry cursed violently. "What?"

"We have to wait for it to change again, we're going to the wrong platform and there's no way across." Harry clenched the banister for support, his hands whitening at the knuckles. "So… take my mind off this, what are you doing this weekend." 

Malfoy laughed, "Pansy."

"Ew." 

"That is not what I meant you lily livered wimp."  

"I know but the mental image!  It's too much to handle."  Harry did his best to clear his mind of the disgusting thought, and for the most part succeeded, before he asked, his voice considerably less animated than before, "I suppose the whole school will hear about this."

"Not as far as I know." The staircase was finally moving again. "There would be no value in letting them know about this, firstly, it's freaky, not embarrassing. Besides, there are no witnesses. If I let the school know that I was with you when you did this, then I'll be in trouble and you'll be smothered in sympathy."  

It was a strange experience for Harry to see the logic in Malfoy's words, but he saw it nonetheless.  With a shrug and a pained grunt Harry started walking, forcing Malfoy to keep up with him.  The rest of the trip was made without incident, but by the time the boys reached the painting, Harry was unable to walk, so he was slung over Malfoy's shoulder. 

"Harry dear, you're so late, I was worried about you!" The Pink Lady gushed before she realized who it was, or more to the point, who Harry was with.  

"Constantinople." Malfoy gasped, he hadn't been carrying Harry for long, but humans were heavy creatures and they couldn't support each other for long.  He heaved himself through the open portrait hole and dragged Harry in after him, this newly formed nightly ritual was becoming a bit of a pain for both parties. 

The common room was stifling so Malfoy opened a window as Harry crawled into an armchair and put his foot on a table. "Stick around for a minute." Harry gritted out, "I'm going to try and heal myself, but I might need help." 

"Potter you idiot!  You can't just experiment on yourself!"  

"It's only a foot you priss.  Just sit here for a minute because I might need help!" Harry rolled his eyes and drew his wand from the folds of his robe.  He was going to transfigure the bones of his feet into one whole bone.  He figured if he could turn a pencil into a miniature pony, he could handle this, at least until he could learn a proper healing spell. The only problem with this, of course, was that he couldn't see what he was doing, "Look away, this could be a little gross."

Malfoy did as told, but not before he watched as Harry cast an invisibility spell on his skin.  All of his muscles and bones were left in plain sight, including the broken one.  There was a certain functional beauty to it but there was also something inherently disgusting about seeing all of his muscles and veins pulse in perfect harmony with his heart.   Malfoy had to stick his head out the window and into the cold night to prevent himself from vomiting.  

"I could use a hand if you don't mind."  

"I can't transfigure your foot! I can't even look at it!"  

With the hand that wasn't clutching his wand, Harry groped in Malfoy's general direction. "I mean literally you prat! This hurts like hell!" 

"Oh." Said Malfoy stupidly, letting Harry grasp his hand with nearly crushing force.  Concentrating through the pain it took the Gryffindor nearly five minutes to put his foot back in working order but he managed it.  "Ow."  Malfoy flexed his hand and heard the bones settling back into place before he looked at his watch, it was ten minutes to three.  Time to get out of here. 

He helped Harry to his feet as a pure genteel gesture, then made to leave but was stopped by Harry's arm on his shoulder. "What now Potter?" 

"The spell… it hasn't… I can't walk yet." He hung his head in defeat, somewhere between laughing and crying.  It just wasn't his day.  

Malfoy laughed with a deep sense of irony, this was ridiculous. One minute Potter was capable of chipping a statue and breaking his own foot without so much as a wince, the next he couldn't walk. "Fine, where's your dorm." 

"Up the stairs and to the left, it's labeled."  

"What is it about Gryffindors and stairs?" Malfoy asked with a long suffering sigh, he didn't care one way or another save that he really wanted to sleep, but things could always be worse.  He once again flung Harry over his shoulder, though he met more protest this time. 

"I can hobble at least! I'm not completely useless."

"Yes you are, just shut up and let yourself be carried." Harry pinched him between his shoulder blades. "Ow! Hey, I'm helping you here!" 

"Shut up! You'll wake Ron!"  Malfoy did as told and dumped Harry into his four-poster, then proceeded to transfigure the Gryffindor's sock into a brace, just in case. 

Harry looked surprised but he smiled and silently thanked Malfoy. "Now get out, and don't steal anything."

The blonde took the jab well naturedly, "Potter, if I ever set foot in here again, it will be to kill you."  He whispered scornfully. 

Harry grinned dangerously in response.

"Sleep well."

**Post Author's Notes: **La… I was running out of ideas, now that their free of detention I have more room to play though.  Are you as excited as I am?  No?  Ah well, that's fine too.  I tried to maintain Malfoy's assishness toward the end, but I don't know that it worked, especially since he had to whisper instead of busting out the scorn and sarcasm. Damn you Ron. Anyway, I hoped you liked it, the next chapter should start and end with action so look forward to it.  Is it just me or are these chapters getting steadily longer?


	6. Starch in the Gravy

Oi oi (covering my ass, respectively), just in case I've managed to insult someone with my playful (mind you I'm being playful) jabs at Veela fics, I'm sorry.  I'm not being mean, I just noticed that fics with the word 'Veela' in the title get more reviews, a hell of a lot more reviews, than I do.  Its not so much that I'm not a fan of a good Veela fic (especially when our dearest Draco retains his willowy qualities and obtains unusual strength), I just don't like MPreg unless it's hilariously funny and not at all WAFFy.  It's completely illogical, besides… ow.  ****

**Author's Notes: **Baka Harry ne?  And yes, for the record, it is possible to break your foot that way, I gave myself a bad sprain punting a football so I just put more force behind it and imagined the results.  Yes, the chapter titles grow increasingly more bizarre and yet no one has guessed that their meaning… actually, I think I'm going to start self-advertising, see if it works (I'm going to hell anyway).  My friend tells me that Scion means 'son' and so it is with a deep sense of irony that I so dub Sir. Vamp, "Scion."  

**Review Responses:** (A cute alliteration, it'll work)

**FlowerfunLeah: **It's slash, it's slash I promise.  Please don't get impatient with me I just don't want to have a random snogging session, I want it to be funny and… workable.  Just so you know, the beginning of this chapter is actually important (I had to fulfill a word quota) so read it.  Thanks for reviewing for me.  Domo domo!

**Katrina: **Thanks. So, Harry's not too OOC?  I've been worried about that, I mean, I really hate it when my characters are… well, out of character.  Unless of course it's a plot device, which, to some extent this is.  Tell me what you think of Draco in this one, is he too soft?

**Layce74: ** Thanks, I intend to. 

**Disclaimers: **I don't own _Harry Potter_. Note the underline, I mean _Harry Potter_ the cash cow organization thing, not Harry the goofy character; cash-cow ­_Harry_ includes its characters, plot etcetera.  I don't have enough money to even think of buying _Harry Potter'_s copyright. But my birthday is coming up soon… does anyone want to buy me _Harry Potter_? ::Hint hint::

_In Darkness Found, Light Revealed_

Chapter 6: Starch in the Gravy

He had once been young and brash as Tom was, as Harry was.  He had been a member of the imperial army, young and full of himself.  Like Tom, after his first battle he believed that nothing could harm him, and like Tom he was wrong.  He'd met his maker so-to-speak in a forest somewhere in Germany, a forest much like this one, and had been reborn young and weak.  He knew nothing of the world but was left to fend for himself, abandoned by the one that made him into what he was.  

The sun had been brilliant agony, he missed the sight of it, the cymbal crash of light as it peeked over the horizon, he missed the soft twilight as it fell.  Humans were fortunate to have their sun, but he regretted nothing.  His master had left him in the sun to die, but he scrambled to safety just in time with his flesh melting off of him and his eyes burning.  From that moment on he had feared its rays. Feared as only a mortal being could, the sun made him mortal, made him human and just as a fragile human was killed, the sun killed him.

He wandered for centuries before finding someone like himself, he'd become so old by then, so old and so jaded to the world, so tired that the person was a relief, but she too wandered away.  She was young, she wanted to explore and for a brief time, so to did Scion, but it was not to be.  Scion's youth had been wasted on survival, his energy consumed by finding a next meal, never having learned from a sire, he never gorged himself on the flesh of a human until he met her.  She taught him everything, taught him how to live as he should have been living for hundreds of years.  He was so old to be so inexperienced, she told him, he was an ancient and yet an infant to their ways.  

It was an unexpected cruelty to be told this.  She had no inkling of his suffering; he had survived in solitude for so long, too long to be considered juvenile. Though unrefined he may have been, at his first taste of human blood, he knew boundless power as the others had not.  Jealous of this power, jealous of his control and patience, she drifted away, probably to some primitive country where hunting was bountiful and suspicion overlooked by natives.  She would travel somewhere where she could be a goddess and be handed her lusted after power on a silver platter. 

Bound to his homeland, he returned to see everything changed.  Great buildings had been erected, he no longer understood the tongue of the land, and the people no longer knew of his prestigious family.  He felt the soul of his ancestral grounds screaming, and so he left.  Traversed the land on foot and horseback, traveling at night with nothing but his food for company.  Though sometimes it made the most interesting company. 

He took a boat around the world, traveling east, then south.  He finally reached the island of his inhabitance nearly a millennium later.  It was a strange and wonderful place, full of interesting religions and rituals, he saw men behead their wives, and wives behead their children.  He saw rats plague the world, whores killed, and merchants made of paupers through his much filtered night-lens. He traveled on, leaving his home in the destructive hands of the unsuspecting human.  On to the islands, on to the mainland, taking in all that he had lost in the years gone by.  Wars had ravaged his country, people were dying of living decay in the streets, but no one was willing to rescue them.  It was neither his place nor his pleasure to set them on their feet or take their lives.  Their blood was weak, it was riddled with the bitter taste of rot, they were all dying in the cities, clogging the metropolises with their waste.  

Eventually he returned, returned to England and the castle of old, though he was unable to enter it.  He settled down, never having created a minion or a child, nor had he ever the desire to do so.  Tom was the first person to have stirred the excitement in his dead veins again, churning up discord in his lackluster world.  He presented a challenge, how to tame the boy, the school, and eventually the whole country side without the notice of forces more powerful than he.   It was not to be, however, as his plan was discovered.  That was when his forest became 'Forbidden' the 'Forbidden Forest.'  

Now the excitement was back, never before had he been tempted to view a human as anything more than food. Now he needed this human to be, to be with him, for all of eternity. He needed this human to cease being human. There was nothing keeping him from storming the castle, but an operation of this kind required subtlety.  Subtlety kindly provided by his first minion. 

He fell asleep with a contented smirk on his face.  Everything would happen today, this afternoon would be the crux of his strategy, tying up loose ends and achieving his desire.  The game had been fun but fruitless; it was time to end it.  

~*~

The thought of being free of his debt was all that kept him working, setting up this adolescent debacle.  To think that he was being used as a mere pawn; brought to his knees by one man, not even a man.  It was an insult to his pride, an insult that could not go unpunished.  Once he had fulfilled this ridiculous task he would rally an army against Scion and his new pet, he would destroy them for all time. 

This cruelty could not persist. For decades he'd been used in this manner, called upon when need be.  Thirty years ago the summons had stopped very abruptly and the self-styled Lord Voldemort had assumed that the ancient evil had died.  For as long as he had known him, Scion had been more than a vampire, more than a mere wizard could dispose of. As a youth, he had fervently prayed for the light would somehow pierce the thick forest canopy and Scion's heart, but his prayers had never been received. 

He was continuously furious with himself for once again having been made errand boy for a creature older than God. In the beginning of his relationship with the powerful being, he had thought to use him for his own purposes.  Voldemort had thought to use him as a weapon of war, Scion was able to deliver a hoard, entire armies of Muggles and Wizards alike into his hands to be controlled like putty. 

Their first meeting had proved nearly fatal for the Dark lord but since that time he had been striving to best him, often practicing spells for weeks on end without interruption in order to destroy his 'Master.' Soon, however, he came to realize that he would never best the beast without becoming something more than human, that was when he realized he could speak in the ancient snake tongue.  That was when he realized he was the heir of Slytherin, surely Salazar was a man that was capable of defeating one vampire, his heir most certainly could.  

So he struck up an alliance with a basilisk, making a deal with one devil, then another. The basilisk was a creature that he could easily control and use for his own purposes.  He had terrorized the school, killed a muggle-born wench, and just for the fun of it, he had gotten the half-breed expelled.  It was all in preparation, he would use his precious pet Basilisk to freeze Scion while he disposed of the remains, but nothing went according to plan.  The half-breed had been expelled far too early, he had assumed with the Ministry of Magic, indecisive even then, that the trial would drag on for months, giving him plenty of time to complete his mission.  He had been thwarted by circumstance as the oaf had been thrown out within the week and his wand snapped in half. With no one left to frame, Tom was stuck in his enslavement once again, something that Scion found endlessly amusing. 

Potter would assume his role as errand boy, something he more than deserved, but there was something different.  Even Scion seemed to hold Potter in a special esteem, something that made him furious.  How was it that a scrap of a boy, Harry Potter was so special?  How had he continuously evaded Scion's grasp when he, Lord Voldemort, could not? 

***

"I'm bored Potter." 

Of course he was bored, it was Saturday, a Hogsmead weekend and all of his Slytherin friends had abandoned him in search of adventure, and possible first-year baiting.  Not even simpering Pansy Parkinson was around to keep him entertained, though with the recent insinuations about her that were made by Potter, he couldn't stand to think about her anyway.  It really was a disgusting thought.

"And you want me to do what about it Malfoy?" 

Malfoy shrugged and flopped down on a hard chair in front of Harry.  He was in the library catching up on his transfiguration work by copying Hermione's notes, out of sympathy she let him borrow them with the promise that he would study. Malfoy had come up from behind him and scared him senseless before he made his announcement of boredom, though Harry could have guessed at his motives.  Why else would someone in their seventh year cast the illusion of a rabid cow on someone's homework?   

They hadn't spoken all week though Malfoy had made a point of laughing at Harry's limp. It hadn't lasted long, he only had a difficult time of walking because of the pain, but that disappeared in no time at all; Hermione had barely had time to ask what was wrong before he was on his feet again. The foot had healed beautifully, when Harry tried researching healing spells, he found that the temporary transfiguration of his bones had set them permanently, Malfoy's brace had given the break plenty of opportunity to heal without nerve damage.  "I still haven't thanked you for-" 

Malfoy cut him off with an impatient wave, "Bored Potter. Remember bored!  Everyone that's remotely interesting is in town."  

"Go cast cheering charms on yourself, then everything will be interesting," muttered Harry, dismissing him with a wave of his quill as he returned to his notes.

Malfoy caught the hand and waved it around, knocking Harry off balance. "As fascinating as that sounds, I'm BORED!" 

Harry wrenched his hand back, rubbing at his sore shoulder joint.  "What do you propose I do about it?"  

"Let's get detention." 

This was said so eagerly that Harry was afraid Malfoy was serious.  Then he realized he was.  "Are you insane?  Never mind, I know the answer to that, but if you start badgering me, all the first years are going to think you have a crush."  

Malfoy laughed, he didn't know why, but the suggestion was so ludicrous that it was funny. If the first years noticed them at all, they would be too terrified of the infamous Potter to make assumptions about him or his arch rival.  Somehow, over the course of endless detentions and broken appendages they'd developed a friendly camaraderie that only they would understand. The worst insults were interpreted as highly amusing, though they were often delivered with venom.  

"No love interests." Malfoy said jauntily, "I'm just bored and you're the only one around." 

"I should hope not." Harry said dryly, rolling up a sheet of parchment. "So, you really want detention." 

"Not detention per-se, but a detention worth offense could be interesting."  Malfoy was lounging in the chair with natural grace, but everything about him screamed energy, more so than were he bobbing up and down like a buoy. 

Harry rolled his eyes and reminded himself to never get bored, if the results in the typically lethargic Malfoy were this bad, he didn't want to imagine what would happen to him.  Then again, he could probably handle boredom better than could Malfoy, given that he had been bored before.  Harry shook his head to clear it, pontificating on boredom was a useless activity and Malfoy was waving a hand in front of his face.  "Fine. Let's go to Hogsmead."   
"Wha?"

"Hogsmead. You know, the village that's about half a mile from the school.  Unless you would prefer the Forbidden Forest?" 

"No. And I know what Hogsmead is, but how do we get around Filch?  He'll be watching us, well… you, he really doesn't give a damn about me." That was true, Filch didn't care whether Malfoy obeyed the rules or not, so long as he never set off a stink bomb, but he watched Harry's every move like a hawk.  If the boy put one toe out of line, Filch knew about it. 

Harry got up, taking Hermione's transfiguration notes with him.  He knew what he was doing was stupid, and he knew that seven years of fierce rivalry wouldn't come to an end because of a month's detention and a broken foot, but he too was bored and he was willing to take the risk because if he got in trouble, Malfoy got in trouble. "Meet me back here in ten minutes for Hogsmead."  

"I don't… wait… what? You confuse me."  These days, nothing made sense. 

"Ten minutes."

"Fine."

Ten minutes later, Harry was closely watching the Marauders Map and toting his invisibility cloak in a carry sack.  He looked for all the world like he was lost in his work, but the boy casually following him knew better.  Draco Malfoy was well trained in the art of secrecy and nonchalance, he too looked like he was lost to the world but he was closely following Harry down the East Corridor and to the statue of the Humpbacked Witch.

It was truly a hideous old statue, Malfoy had always wondered why they kept it around, but he realized the answer as her shawl covered back slid apart to reveal a short drop into an unlit passage. "Get in." Harry hissed, eyes trained on the Marauders map.  Malfoy did as told to find himself at the beginning of a long and lightless tunnel.  He followed the wall to make room for Harry, who dropped beside him seconds later.

"_Lumos." _

"Cool."  

"I rather thought so. Are you still bored?"  

"No. Where does this lead? I thought that all the passages to Hogsmead were shut down in third year because of Sirius Black!  How on earth did you find out about this?"  

Harry laughed, he too was excited to be out and about in the day light, though he felt he should be somewhere else.  "Honeydukes, obviously they weren't, and Weasley twins have their uses."  

"I'll say."  Malfoy was like a kid in a candy store, and very shortly, he would be.  Harry giggled. "Shut it Potter."

Sometimes being invisible in Hogsmead was more fun than being visible.  This was one of those times, Harry and Malfoy wandered around the town feeling impervious.  Harry took a shot and Crabbe, tripping him with an invisible foot.  Crabbe grabbed on to Goyle, who lurched for Zabini and they all fell over in a heap.  Even Malfoy snickered. 

One at a time they unveiled themselves to buy supplies from Zonko's, candy from Honeydukes, and even hot coffee to go from Madame Puddyfoot's, though that was primarily for warming their half-frozen fingers.  

There was still snow on the ground from the last storm, younger students were engaged in a furious snow ball fight in the yard of the Shrieking Shack and Harry was sorely tempted to join them, but he heard Hermione not far away, acting the part of the Head Girl and yelling for them to behave themselves.  Surely she would have noticed if a snowball emerged from nowhere and hit someone.  

Too late did he notice Malfoy bending down and scooping up two handfuls of snow.  The first got crushed into his head, the second was lobbed at Hermione's.  Harry wiped muddy snow from his eyes to see Hermione glaring in their general direction as she dripped with the dirty slush.  Malfoy was barely holding back peals of laughter so Harry stomped on his foot.   "That wasn't funny." 

"Yes it was."  

They bickered about the hilarity of the impromptu snowball fight all the way to the Hogshead Inn, it was the best place to order butter beer and not get in trouble for it because none of the students would be anywhere near the shady place. 

Something rocked the ground, knocking many students and respected kiosks to the ground.  People were crying out, was this a nightmare, an earthquake?  What was going on?  Harry could feel the screams, he could feel the swell of magic and the vibrations of massive power, he could feel the pressure building in the air, he could feel Malfoy quaking next to him, but he couldn't hear.  Suddenly the feeling was gone, as was the pressure. He could hear people screaming, and Malfoy was shaking with a mixture of surprise, fear, and anger.  The Dark Mark hung low in the sky over the Three Broomsticks and people were running, terrified across the town trying to get away from it. 

Harry ran towards the source of panic, he ran in the general direction of the Dark Mark, forgetting that he was supposed to be safe in the castle, forgetting that he was shocking scores of people by emerging out of no where.  "Potter!" He heard Malfoy's voice behind him, but he didn't think about it.  Something terrible was going to happen, people were going to die.  Voldemort was here! "HARRY!" 

**Post Author's Notes: **Holy crap.  It took me so much effort just to exceed my previous chapter in word count…. Eugh. It was agony.   I'm well aware of the fact that Malfoy is out of character, I'm sorry, I was sugar high.  I did try to make an excuse in text, please forgive me.  Tee hee hee, are you noticing certain things?  What certain things that may or may not be (you're not quite sure maybe) relative to the plot?  Tell me! R&R for me, I want to see if my foreshadowing is too light or if you're catching the subtlety.   I'm excited!


	7. Lamb Chops

**_Another Openin' Another Show! In Philli', _****_Boston_****_, or Baltimo'! Another place where the ulcers grow… Another Openin' of Another Show!  _(I don't remember the Play, but the song's called "Another Openin' Another Show" who'd've guessed that I sing show tunes?)**

**Author's Notes: **Wow, I like this chapter I really do. I've dropped the whole "Malfoy is a sadistic bastard that does not cringe at death" thing.  He was a wilting little pansy in the last chapter, he's a wilting little flower now.  Well, maybe not, but he's not "That thing in quotes that I don't want to re-type". Anyway, the last chapter wasn't bad, but have you ever posted a chapter thinking it's not so terrible only to re-read your chapter post-post and realized that there were mistakes/issues that you could have easily resolved? I hate that. Anyway, I think this fic is steadily improving, what do you think?  Is it getting better? Be honest now.  Oh, I should warn you, there's some violence in this chapter.  Not sexual violence, but violence nonetheless.  

**Disclaimers: **I neither own nor unlawfully distribute Harry Potter, please don't sue me. I'm only writing this because I'm a bored, lonely, teenaged girl that really needs a boyfriend.  Find someone to occupy my time and I promise I'll stop. (Well… maybe.)

**Review Responses: **

**Gifford: **Aw, you've made me blush. Thanks for reviewing for me. I too am extremely glad you didn't miss my fic, I know it's no better than most, and there are a lot of good ones out there.  Hey, if you like confusing/intriguing, try Palindromes by Wintry.  It's good stuff.

**Katrina: **Once again, thank you so much. That was indeed the distraction that Scion needed, though things have a tendency to blow up in his face, poor Scion.  I cracked up when I read your review because I watched Shreck just this afternoon.  ^_^

**Emeline****: **Cool name, and I'll try not to get too mushy… sometimes it can't be helped, like the Hogsmead (hey, do you know if that's spelled Hogsmeade?) thing… that was pretty WAFFy. But who am I to complain if you like it?  

**Weasley**** Wonders: **You're always so nice to me… tell me if I do something stupid okay?  Anyway, thanks for the review. 

**KittenBabyGirl****: **Thanks, I like it too. And I _am_ updating soon ^_~.

_In Darkness Found, Light Revealed_

Chapter 7: Lamb Chops

"You failed me Tom."  That was all that needed to be said, Tom had failed his mission, he had nearly killed his master's prey.  He wanted nothing more than a distraction, an opening in the castle's security, one that he might have been able to slip through, but Birdy had been there.  Birdy had been part of the distraction and he had nearly died for his effort.  

"No! No Master, you can't!"  Voldemort was pleading; many witches and wizards would have cheered had they known that the scourge of their world was suffering the nightmare that they'd lived for the last two decades.  

"Can't I?"

"What about-" He was panicking now, under ordinary circumstances he would never squirm away from his opponent, he would never twich like a half-crushed spider.

"The rebellion?  What do I care for mortal affairs; you ruined my plans and nearly destroyed my target!  What is your rebellion to that? You accepted the risks when you entered my forest fifty years ago." That was it, the end of the discussion. Scion didn't give a damn about Tom Riddle, he never had.  The megalomaniacal man who was no longer a man was just a stepping stone, a means to an end, a temporary source of entertainment. Tom never had a chance. "You disobeyed a direct order."  

The careless boy had endangered his dear Birdy, he had caused unnecessary discord amongst the town's people, arousing suspicion; he had ultimately jeopardized everything that Scion had been working for. A work that was precious, vital to his new-found enjoyment of 'life.' Torture was not nearly punishment enough.  

"Goodbye Tom." 

***

Harry stretched and yawned before a sharp pain pierced his chest. "Ow."  Opening his bleary eyes he realized the ceiling was not familiar, neither were the sheets, and the company, while familiar, was not who he expected, nor wanted to see.  Well, most of it was unwanted. "What?"

"Harry! Look Ron, Harry's awake!  Oh we were so worried about you! What on earth were you doing in Hogsmead anyway? Did you know He would attack?  Harry answer me!"   Someone was shaking his arm, his head hadn't been sore until he tried to remember why Hermione was assaulting him with questions, but now it was rife with pain and he groaned. "Oh Harry I'm sorry, I should've realized!" What was meant to be a consoling whisper came out as an exclamation as Hermione jumped away and allowed Harry his space. 

What the hell was going on, why did he hurt? The last thing he remembered… what did he remember…? "Wha…" Malfoy was afraid, "Is he…" everyone was running screaming through Hogsmead, "Is everyone… okay?" 

Hermione looked away from him, and didn't answer, so Ron answered for her, "There were some injuries, and a few fatalities." At the look on Harry's face, he continued, "Do you remember what happened?"

"Not really."

"Well, all things considered… it's fortunate that the town wasn't destroyed.  You-Know-Who attacked and… oh Harry it was terrible! Buildings collapsed, people were trampling each other trying to get away, but you must have seen the Dark Mark, you must have known that he would be there.  Why else were you at Hogsmead when you shouldn't have been?"

Harry remembered why he was in Hogsmead, he might have grinned but for the serious situation; talk about irony.  "Why was Voldemort there? I thought he was afraid of Dumbledore." 

"He is!" Hermione cried, leaping to her feet.  She sat down again sheepishly, and looked Harry in the eye, "This might be hard for you to hear but… he was asking for you.  It was a trap, he was trying to get to you!" 

Harry put his hands over his face and rolled his eyes, he could have guessed that.  Voldemort was always after him one way or another (who else would he be chasing, Santa?), he was perhaps becoming a bit jaded on the subject. "So.  Is Voldemort dead?"

"You don't remember?"  

Harry gave them an incredulous look and a rhetorical statement, "Should I?"  

"That's quite all right Mister Potter, after an event like that, who could remember the details?"  Asked Professor Dumbledore as he came strolling into the infirmary, trailed by a flustered looking Madame Pomfrey.  

"That's enough you two, you can see Harry tomorrow, visiting hours are over. The boy needs his rest."  The Medi-witch announced, shuffling the two reluctant students out of her domain.  "Headmaster, I know that you'll have your way no matter what I say, but do try to make it short, he needs his rest."   She too left with a sad shake of her head and a soft sort of smile at Harry that left him knitting his eyebrows in confusion. 

"Voldemort is still very much alive, Harry." 

"I thought as much. What happened?"

Dumbledore sighed heavily, "You fought, I wasn't there so an eye-witness account is somewhat unobtainable at the moment, but Harry, he almost killed you."  

"How?" He was taking this news surprisingly well.  His arch enemy had come closer to Hogwarts than ever before, threatening its very way of life, but it all seemed so surreal.  The events of the past week made Voldemort's attack feel like a dream, besides, nearly dying was better than dying all the way; there was a distinct lack of pearly lights and pretty faces when one was alive, but there was also a distinct lack of decay. 

"Again, I'm not sure.  There was powerful magical residue in the area which leads me to believe he used a bone breaking curse but..."  

Harry nodded sagely, that explained a lot about the pain, there were no obvious, gut wrenching stabs, but his entire body ached as though he had been thrown into a wall.  Though in retrospect, he probably had been.  "So why aren't I dead?"  

"Frankly, I don't know.  We're running an analysis on your wand, you should get it back by the time you leave the infirmary, but thus far we've only uncovered some of the most basic spells, things that you've been doing in class and a rather fascinating transfiguration spell.  Extra credit?"

Harry blushed, "Long story.  Anyway, if I'm alive, and Voldemort's alive, and there are no roaring parties in the vicinity, I'm assuming he won, so why hasn't he taken over the world yet." Harry was suddenly very fearful, "or has he?" 

"No, he hasn't. I was hoping you could help me with that.  You weren't in the school, nor were you with the Dursleys, yet somehow you survived quite a few fatal spells.  Of course this is all hearsay and speculation, but I have it on relatively good authority that he destroyed the surrounding area trying to get to you, yet you've come out of it relatively unharmed."  The Headmaster pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger wearily, "well, I shouldn't say that.  Your friends found you in a rather poor state, if I'm not mistaken, the body-bind curse was put on you; I believe Miss Granger went into shock." 

"Professor Dumbledore?" the pleading yet solid tone of his voice was very familiar, even to his ears.  

"Yes?" 

"Why did he attack Hogsmead?"  Harry asked thoughtfully, "Voldemort I mean, any one of his death eaters could have stirred up just as much trouble.  Are you sure it was Voldemort?" 

"I'm quite sure it was Voldemort, though I am unable to answer your question as I do not know the answer." 

"Hmm." Harry didn't say anything or even acknowledge the professor as Dumbledore took his leave. He simply stared down the row of empty infirmary beds.  It made no sense! Voldemort couldn't have known that Harry would be in Hogsmead because Harry was expressly forbidden to be in the village.  Unless of course Harry was lured there by Malfoy into a carefully laid trap, but the pieces didn't fit together; Malfoy too was forbidden to go to town and though he had known Harry for nearly seven years, there was no guarantee of Harry's arrival on the scene.  

It simply wasn't Voldemort's style to do the dirty work himself, but in the brief flashes of memory that had accompanied Professor Dumbledore's vague and useless 'explanation,' he hadn't seen any Death Eaters in the vicinity. Not even an expendable shield.  What was going on?  Of course, he didn't trust Dumbledore to be telling the truth, nor did he trust his own memory in the man's hands, but he did have faith that it would all come back to him soon.  Only a few questions remained: 1, why had it been Voldemort at Hogsmead instead of someone dispensable, 2, what had happened to his body and his memory, and 3, where the hell was Malfoy with his invisibility cloak?

Harry sighed deeply, he knew that he would get no sleep or peace of mind until he answered at least one of his three questions, so he didn't even try.  He would have gotten out of bed, but he didn't feel confident in his walking abilities, if one of the many pain relieving spells that he felt tingling through his body happened to wear off because of the sudden increase in activity, he would be up shit creek without a paddle.  Enduring severe physical pain was not an activity he particularly enjoyed.  

That too was an anomaly of sorts, Dumbledore said that Voldemort probably used a bone breaker curse, but Harry knew from experience that Madame Pomfrey could mend bones with a flick of her wrist and eliminate pain with a wave of her wand, so why did he ache all over?  He could feel bruises every time he shifted on the bed, bruises that were begging to be recognized, but those too should have disappeared with a healing spell.  There was something severely wrong with this situation.  

The disgruntled Gryffindor sat up, ignoring the wince that accompanied his actions.  Walking was definitely out of the question if he couldn't even swing his legs out of bed without discomfort.  He stared straight ahead of him, focusing on what seemed to be nothing, he could feel something with him, someone with him, but he didn't know who.  As long as he stayed in this bed, he would never have his answers.  "I wish someone would tell me what happened."  

"Shit Potter!" 

Harry jumped nearly a foot in the air; that was a very familiar voice, not accompanied by the familiar face that should have been attached. "Malfoy?"  

Draco Malfoy pulled Harry's invisibility cloak from his head, revealing his face, head, torso, then finally, the rest of him.  He didn't look like the type of person that had just led Harry into a trap, he didn't look like the type of person that could betray someone so thoroughly, as a matter of fact, he looked terrible. He had sat in silence listening to the proceedings and keeping a worried eye on Harry for reasons of his own.  "How did you know I was there?" 

"Jesus! You scared me half to death!"

"No I didn't. You were half dead already, according to my calculations, if I'd scared you half to death you wouldn't be glaring at me like that."  Indeed, Harry was glaring.  He wasn't exactly upset, just irritated because Malfoy could smirk in the face of his surprise and confusion.  "How did you see me?"

"I didn't." 

"But you were… never mind."  Malfoy could have sworn that Harry had been looking straight at him when he asked for answers, but he didn't have the heart to argue.  Harry was looking so confused and rightfully so after all he'd been through. "Jesus Potter, you are _some_ kind of idiot. You almost got yourself killed."  

"Did you happen to see _how_ I almost got myself killed, because no one else has." 

Malfoy looked distinctly uncomfortable, like he was somewhere between throwing up and running away.  It had been horrible to watch, but he couldn't have done anything to stop it, he was frozen in place by his own terror of the man.  How Harry had gone hurtling towards the scene of the crime and his own near-death was a mystery, one Malfoy didn't necessarily want to solve.  "Yes." 

Harry's eyes lit up like Hermione's on exam day, "Could you tell me about it?  I can't remember for some reason, I think I hit my head or something because I have a headache and I don't know what happened…."  He was blabbering but he didn't care, he had always had a need to know, a curiosity that was never quite sated by Dumbledore's vague answers.  Now they were even less satisfactory because of his mistrust for the man. 

Malfoy flopped down on the bed next to Harry's, crossing his legs under him. "Harry I don't…" With a heavy sigh he rubbed at his face, making red the skin of his forehead before he let his chin rest on his balled fist.  This was going to take some effort. "They're not going to find anything on your wand."

Harry almost opened his mouth to speak, but shut it again with a snap.  He hadn't cast any spells?

"You didn't have time… he, something tripped you because you weren't watching your feet.  He… he immobilized you when you dropped your wand.  You couldn't find it in time because your glasses were broken."

That explained a lot, including his blurry vision. "Full body bind?" He asked, referring to a spell that every student at Hogwarts knew, front to back.  "Dumbledore said that's how they found me."  

Again, Malfoy looked uncomfortable.  "No. That was me," when Harry opened his mouth in shock and indignation he covered by saying, "I had my reasons!  No, he used something I've never seen before.  It didn't inhibit outside forces from moving you like the body-bind does," he tried delicately, "it's just, you were… frozen almost. It's hard to describe." 

He gulped back the bile that was rising in his throat as Harry processed the information carefully, "Okay, so then what happened? Dumbledore said he used a bone-breaker curse."

"He – god you were screaming and –." Malfoy clamped a hand over his mouth and took a deep breath, "He didn't use a bone-breaker, he didn't use any spell at all. I think he might have tried, but something backfired, all he could do was hold you in place. I don't think I've ever seen anyone so angry in my life, it was terrifying.  He started with your fingers, and he broke every one of them. You were screaming and… I think you were scared, I was scared."  

It was a rare moment of vulnerability as Malfoy lost himself in the memory of that afternoon.  He didn't want to imagine the pain Harry felt as Voldemort slowly bent every one of his fingers back at the joint and snapped them with his bare hands.  He didn't want to imagine the agony when he crushed Harry's toes with his boots and snapped his wrists with nothing more than brute force.  He had been so afraid for Harry, afraid for himself despite the invisibility cloak.  Everyone else had fled the scene with the appearance of the Dark Mark, if Voldemort had so much as smelled him on the wind, he would have died. 

"Jesus I was scared."  

Harry blanched, his fingers, broken? Screaming? Why couldn't he remember? "What else."  

"He just kept… he just kept trying to break your bones, he was so angry, I could smell it.  No one was there to help you, they fled the scene.  You were tortured Potter." He said flatly, unable to reveal any more detail, Malfoy knew that Harry wanted to know these things, but he couldn't stomach it twelve hours ago, he couldn't stomach it now. 

"So why am I still alive?" Harry asked hoarsely, he hadn't realized it before, but perhaps his throat was sore.  It corroborated Malfoy's story, certainly he would have screamed himself silent if he had indeed been made to suffer that anguish, but he didn't want to think about it, he just wanted facts.

"I think… I don't know.  You stopped screaming, I think you passed out, and he threw you into the bar.  He was going to kill you, I know he was going to kill you, he was laughing, and he was so angry." 

"So why aren't I dead?" Harry repeated a little desperately.

"He just stopped.  I don't – I don't know why, he just stopped everything.  He stopped laughing, and he stood very still.  Then he just disappeared, he didn't apparate, I know that much, he just disappeared.  I don't know why." Malfoy looked introspective as he shuddered in terror; the sudden blank look that had come across the Dark Lord's face was more terrifying than any of his actions had been.  

Malfoy saw him raise his wand, saw his mouth form the words "Avada Kedavra" before he suddenly changed.  There wasn't a sound but he didn't look angry, amused or even indifferent any more, he didn't look like anything.  His arms fell limply to his side and his wand dangled loose from his fingertips before he disappeared without so much as a whisper on the breeze.  "I don't know." 

Harry looked wide eyed and innocent, struck dumb by the news.  How could he forget something as incredible and horrible as being tortured?  He had probably blocked out the memory because his head ached fiercely all through Malfoy's story.  He sat in silence for a long moment, almost wishing he hadn't asked before he realized something, "The full body-bind, what was that for?"

Malfoy looked sheepish, "You were unconscious and I didn't think you'd feel it.  I was worried that setting and healing spells wouldn't work on you because none of Voldemort's spells did, and the body-bind straightens you out so I tried it.  It didn't work as well as I would have liked, but it served its purpose."  

"Thank you." Harry said sincerely, Malfoy had witnessed the entire fiasco and relayed it to him without a single complaint as his friends would have done.  He had relieved the nightmare for Harry's sake, and had even tried to help him once Voldemort vanished.  Harry didn't blame Malfoy for not coming to his rescue, a man whose very name could strike fear into the hearts of wizards everywhere was not going to be challenged by a mere student unless the student had a death wish.  Instead, Harry was grateful for all the information he'd been given, even if it did put his mental stability at risk.  "Thank you."

"Shove it Potter." Malfoy said coldly, "If you ever do that again I swear to Merlin that I'll kill you myself." 

Harry didn't answer so Malfoy glanced at him in alarm.  There was the eerie blank look, the terrifying look that had crossed Voldemort's face not long ago.  Harry's eyes were empty, his face had no expression lines, and his arms fell limp at his sides, just like Voldemort's.  Malfoy bit back a scream, gulping down his own terror.  He sensed power, great power that had nothing to do with the earth shattering displays of Voldemort.  The pressure was building in his ear drums, he felt like his head would explode, what was this?

Harry got to his feet and Malfoy winced in sympathy as he heard the Gryffindor's bones creaking into place.  "Potter?" Harry walked away from him, his bare feet smacking lightly on the ground, "Potter, where are you going?"  How was he going?  The simple act of walking had to be painful beyond measure.  "Harry?"

Harry ignored him and continued along the stone corridors. Malfoy followed him with no little amount of apprehension, he would have run for Dumbledore, but Harry didn't trust the old coot and neither did he.  He would have run for Professor Snape, but getting from the infirmary to the dungeons would have taken too long, Harry would be long gone by the time he reached Snape's quarters.  "Potter? Snap out of it, Potter wake up, you don't know what you're doing!"  

The time for persuasion was over, Malfoy was beginning to panic and Harry was moving steadily for the doors.  The blonde dug his wand out of his robes, wrestling with Harry's invisibility cloak, "_Locomotor Mortis_." The spell had no effect whatsoever, so he tried it again, a bit louder, "_Locomotor Mortis!" _ Perhaps the wand movements weren't right, _"LOCOMOTOR MORTIS!" _ 

Harry's feet snapped together and Malfoy heaved a sigh of relief, but it was short lived.  No longer able to walk, it was though an invisible force lifted Harry and carried him through the doors.  Malfoy watched with dread as Harry's bare toes sluiced through the neatly trimmed grass, straight towards the Forbidden Forest.  

**Post Author's Notes: **Wow, 3,382 words in this chapter. I've impressed myself, I think the first one was only… (checks file) 1,131.  I must say, as it nears its end, I'm quite happy with this story.  I hope you are too. Now my two worlds are finally coming together. I think it will only be two chapters more, but I have exams this week so you may have to wait.  (Hmm… study or write… decisions decisions.)  Please read and review for me, I mean, I really really would like some feed back, whether negative or positive I'm actually begging you.  I want to know what you _think_ even if you are just massaging my ego.  

OH! Before I forget, I wanted to say sorry about this chapter, I let my brutal side come out to play and I don't know why.  I just… yeah.  It was pretty ugly.  ::Wow, I'm in a strange mood, I'm being very sincere as I write these Post Notes:: 


	8. Poultry

**Is it just me or has Barbie become REALLY REALLY scary?**

**Author's Notes:** Does no one appreciate the effort I put into my violence?  Maybe I should have done it direct POV, made people scream in sympathy… grr. Mixed metaphors can be found in the first paragraph. And this chapter there is some POV switchage but I've put double spaces in to help clear things up… everything is coming together you see. 

** Disclaimers:** There are things I do own; like the hole in my socks.  My big toe pokes through the seam.  There are things I do not own; like Harry Potter.  I'd rather not be sued.

**Kynight****:** What indeed.  I'm still trying to figure that out, but whatever happens to him is dedicated to you.  (It's a good thing if I put him through hell right?) 

**Calmardaa****:** Ack! I feel so honored (again, exclaims that she should self advertise more often).  By the way, I happen to love your fic… "E-hem" ::clears throat:: ANY ONE THAT HAS NOT READ CALAMARDAA'S "BLOOD & NAILS" AND IT'S SEQUEL "SMOKE AND MIRRORS" NEEDS TO DO SO IMMEDIATELY. Thank you." 

**Emeline****:** Continuing continuing!  I too am excited, everything's coming together.  Why… I believe this may be the climax!

**KittenBabyGirl****:** What I have planned for Moldywart will be far worse than what he did to Harry.  Just in case you were wondering though, I was working under the assumption that a bone-breaker curse breaks every bone in the body (not including unbreakables like ear bones) therefore, because Dumbledore believed that Harry had been inflicted by a bone-breaker curse, things had to have been bad. 

**Weasley**** Wonders:** All your questions shall be answered presently (as in, this chapter).  I'm so happy you still like it.  You reviewed my first chapter, and every one since, so I'm assuming I'm doing a good job.  Really though, tell me if things get too out of hand. 

**TenshiNoKoori****:** You are the first person to have remarked on my chapter titles, and I'll let you know their secret… 1, the first four chapters or so… the first short paragraph gave me the chapter title ie. "The man continued watching." = Voyeur. Then because it was a vampire story, I decided to go with foods; Starch in the Gravy was the Jelly equivalent of "The Plot Thickens" and well… Lamb Chops I came up with that in the grocery store… ah the delicious taste of Lamb with mint jelly.  It didn't hurt that Voldy was a bit like a lamb led to slaughter, as was Harry.  This one you'll just have to figure out on your own. ^_~.  Sorry, that was long winded I know, but I've been _dying_ for someone to ask that question, absolutely dying!  Anyway, thanks so much for reviewing for me! 

Em parker: I am so unimaginably happy that you like Draco in this one… I got really out of character with him, but as long as it works for you… a hyperactive nymph? Really?

**Flowerfunleah****:** I promise I really do, this chapter brings mushyness (at least a little bit, with brutality thrown in as per the norm) and the next comes bearing the sweet fruit of a kiss (at least I hope it does).  I'll try not to leave you hanging for too much longer, if you're still unsatisfied by the end of chapter ten, I'll write and email you (as I can't post something that explicit) a very lemony sequel, I promise. 

**Katrina:** Your assumption is basically correct, and I don't know if I'll bring this up later so I'm going to go ahead and say it.  Harry's closeness to Scion, because Scion recently fed off of him or something, makes him resistant to magic because he is now bound to the vampire and vampires are resistant to magic.  Keep in mind that I'm pulling abilities/resistances of vampires right out of my ass, so everything is relative.   I don't know if Voldemort was resistant to magic or not because no one's tried to spell him yet save Scion who has a hold on him anyway.  Too much information?  Probably. As for your second question, yeah, it's slash.  I promise, it's slash.  Friendship fics are boring, there's no later sexual innuendo or anything, friendship fics are painful.   (That cracks me up, at my last party; my friend and I were yelling that back and forth to each other "Do you know… the Muffin man?" "The Muffin man?" "The Muffin Man." "Yes I know the Muffin man. W-Who lives on Drury lane?" "Well she's married to… the Muffin Man" "The Muffin Man?!" "THE MUFFIN MAN!!!" It was good stuff.  Though I've been thinking about it and I've decided that Draco is a bit like a Parfait. "You got a tissue or something 'cause I'm droolin' just thinkin' about it." Mmm. ^_~.) Wow, that was long. 

**Jollinar****:** I'm glad you didn't think it was too brutal… or at least I think I'm glad.  I must say, I could have done a better job of making everyone squirm with a direct take instead of a retrospective one, but… I liked the plot potential with Malfoy there to tell him.  It was a good plot device. ::pats plot device on it's back:: 

**Zeynel****: **I'm happy that I'm keeping you happy with the rate I'm writing at. I had to survive school (or an English paper) this week so the chapter took longer, but it can't have been that bad without me for a day.  (^_~) Ah but I tease. 

**Snako****:** I do believe I've read some of your work… ah yes, Minutes of Gold.  Great stuff.  Anyway, I'm really happy you read this (and do you know what… I put Veela in the summary just for that purpose. Aren't I horrible?) 

_In Darkness Found, Light Revealed_

Chapter 8: Poultry

So it was a bit ignoble.  He had waited long enough for his Birdy to come, he had extended every available option save going up to the castle and dragging him out.  With the recent attack by 'Voldemort' everyone would be suspicious and any cloaked figures entering the castle would be eliminated.  Immediately.   It was dangerous to make his move so shortly after his trump card had gone down, but with his pawns dormant, he needed to bring out the bigger pieces.  

Now Birdy was on his way.  Perhaps overriding his mind had been unnecessary, Harry had been through a lot, to call Harry to him would have been something simple, requiring mild incentive.  But having risked his loss once that day, Scion was not willing to do it again.  Any interference could have deterred Birdy from his course, more failure was not acceptable. 

He could no longer wait for his Birdy, over time the obsession had grown.  The more he saw of Harry, the more he had to have until the very thought of Birdy sent him reeling into the boy's mind.  It was conceivable that Harry's ability to avoid him stabilized Scion's fixation on him.  No one before him had resisted him for so long, even that first night in the clearing had been something spectacular to behold.  Though Harry's body had not made a single move against him, his mind had blocked him out until their second meeting, though Harry had no inkling of the event.  It was immensely fortunate that Birdy hadn't remembered his 'dream,' if he had, Scion would have been in trouble.  Since the second meeting, it had been easy to infiltrate and control his mind but it had been nearly a week between the first encounter and the second.  The risks he'd been taking, the unnecessary hazard he'd subjected himself to, Birdy had somehow revived him.  Scion was beginning to think that this 'Birdy Mania' would never end, and he didn't mind. 

Eventually Birdy would be released from his control to become more of a partner than a slave, but until then he couldn't risk Birdy's running away. The stubborn young man had thus far done everything in his power to avoid the summons; he would do everything in his power to escape the evil. It would be an impossible feat for Scion to alter the memories of all of Birdy's friends and acquaintances.  Birdy had been easy prey because he had fed from him, tasted him physically as well as mentally; the people he knew, however, were extremely powerful.  There was no way to escape them, he and Birdy would have to remain on the run until they forgot him or died, whether naturally or with a bit of help.  

            A whimpering rang clear through the forest.  Someone else had lost his mind, but he wouldn't be getting it back. Scion rolled his eyes and snarled, he was pathetic, more than willing to deal in pain, Tom was unable to accept it.  It hadn't taken long for his mind to snap, he was now a wretched thing, curled up against a tree that he believed might comfort him.  His red eyes were closed and seeping yellowish, pussy tears.  Reduced to a sniveling, Scion would tease him until Birdy made his appearance, even kicking twigs at him made him scramble away in fear.  Perhaps he would allow Birdy some fun before Tom died, fun in the form of revenge.  After all, nothing was sweeter. 

***

Malfoy followed Harry deeper into the forest.  He was afraid, and so, had wrapped himself in the invisibility cloak as he ran to catch up.  It was eerie, following Harry, watching his toes as they dragged along the forest floor; it was terrible and thrilling to see.  Harry was in danger, it would fit his father's every ideal to just let him sail, oblivious to his doom, but Malfoy was still tailing him.  He had no reason to do so, he merely felt compelled.  Malfoy had learned very early on that if powers higher than he wanted him to do something, he should do it.  And so he raced across the grounds, following Harry's moonlit silhouette, he ran to the Forbidden Forest. 

            Was this what Harry felt like when he ran towards Voldemort that afternoon? Had he simply felt compelled despite his terror or did he really believe he could defeat him? Did Harry run towards the Three Broomsticks out of a sense of duty or was he just trying to discover the source of the mayhem?  Harry wasn't fighting the pull, but he still looked as though he were on a tether.  Malfoy didn't know whether or not he was looking forward to seeing whatever was on the other end of that leash, but part of him was relieved.  At least he was there, if Harry got himself into serious trouble (like he had a strong tendency to do) then he would have some back up.  Or at the very least, if he died, Malfoy would be able to tell Dumbledore the story.  

            They were depressing thoughts, true, but the overwhelming surge of power he'd felt in Hogsmead and just a few minutes ago had given way to a pervading sense of doom.  He was planning ahead, thinking logically in the face of his dread, Malfoy's father would have been proud.  

            It wasn't the Dark Lord's style to draw his enemies out against their will.  He waged guerilla war, invading people's dreams and attacking strategic families, families that would cause a lot of news, but he didn't have the power to pull someone as heavily guarded as Harry from the castle.  It was too soon after his latest attack, he would have to retreat and lick his wounds.  Then again, there were no wounds, he had simply left, leaving mystery and destruction behind him.  No, this wasn't Voldemort, this was something else.  

            Were this a platonic force, it would have appealed through Dumbledore, and certainly would not conduct it's meetings in the Forbidden Forest.  Something this powerful had to be dark, it had to be dangerous.  Malfoy had the distinct impression that this had something to do with Voldemort's attack. He grew increasingly more certain as time passed and he was still making the trek through the forest, moving deeper into the shadows as he followed the seemingly unconscious boy.  In other words, this was not good. Not good at all.

            Finally, they reached a clearing, Harry's flight stopped and he fell to the forest floor.  There was crying echoing from the trees, the smell of fear was thick in the air, though that could have been radiating from Harry, or himself.  Somehow, despite that the area was open, the air was heavy and thick, lacking oxygen.  Malfoy was terrified. 

Harry crumpled to the ground in a heap, his eyes still staring blankly ahead – unfocused, and motionless.  A strong pair of arms, ghostly arms, wrapped around the fallen boy; lifting him to a chest that was indistinguishable from the looming darkness.  As Harry's assailant drew him into the shadows, he was slowly revealed to the fleeting moonlight as something more sinister and more innately human than the forest had seen before.    

            Malfoy stopped breathing, frozen by his horror, he stopped moving. His hands shook as he steadied himself against a large elm tree, using its low branches as a shield from the evil before him. He slumped to the ground as his vision blurred, desperately making no sound as he gulped in air, mouth gaping open like a fish.  He was invisible, yet oh-so-vulnerable.  It was cold, he realized suddenly, icy cold, his teeth chattered against his lower lip, his hands were white with the strain of fisting them around his wand, he was nauseous and shivering, it must have been cold.  

            Malfoy felt the power penetrating the air, raw power that was crushing his lungs and causing his heart to beat out a tattoo of panic.  He was quaking as he saw Harry drawn into the brutal embrace.  It was a gentle sort of brutal.  Scion cradled him, crushing Harry's body to his with a soft sort of ferocity that defied logic.  Everything about the situation defied logic.  No one should have been able to infiltrate Hogwarts, an unconscious boy, floating across the grounds should not have been able to escape suspicion, yet somehow he had. Harry was here, Draco had followed him. 

The demon was crooning, cooing to Harry in baby-speak as he softly nuzzled the boy's cheek with the mania of one who's deepest desires had just been fulfilled; and in a way, they had. "Shh shh, don't be afraid, soon everything will be just perfect."  He nipped at Harry's neck gently, accidentally drawing a tiny droplet of blood, barely visible to the human eye.  But it was visible to his.  His Birdy was so soft, so pliable, like a newborn baby – yet his blood screamed of tragedy, flavoring it with a purity that he'd never known before.  It was more than merely intoxicating; Birdy's blood was the vampire's ambrosia. 

            Scion lapped at the tiny abrasion, then slowly it widened as he pierced the tender skin with his venerable fangs. He would have been unable to stop, reveling in the pained, sweet, metallic taste of his long-awaited prey, but a sudden terrified whimper reawakened him to his surroundings.  "Ah yes beautiful Birdy.  I have a gift for you."   The ancient slowly turned with his hard-earned quarry still in his arms, turned towards the broken Tom Riddle, who had not uttered a sound.  

Malfoy could not see Harry anymore; the boy had been fully concealed by the darkness. Nor could he see the 'gift' that 'Birdy' was supposed to receive.  Upon seeing the mark on Harry's neck, the blank complacency in his eyes, Malfoy had to bite back a scream.  A vampire, Harry, in essence, had been kidnapped by a bloody vampire.  It explained so much and yet so little. Vampires were naturally, or unnaturally, resistant to external magic's, they had their own form of power that was capable of rivaling the most powerful wizards, but mortal magic had no effect on them. Spells and incantations slid right off of them, it made sense that a transfer of power might have occurred, giving their victims the same impermeable, preternatural shield, but that meant… That implied that Harry had met this beast before, on a number of occasions.  Was it voluntary or compulsory?  Had Harry invited this? The thought was dizzying.  Fortunately his scream had been attributed to Harry's 'gift' whatever that was.  Would Harry too be feeding from the living tonight? 

Slumped against a tree was Birdy's gift.  Harry saw the blood red, slitted eyes; he recognized the waxy, pale skin and the body forged of his own blood.  Some repressed part of Harry's personality, perhaps his soul, recognized that this was a man to be feared, a man at whose hands he had nearly died on numerous occasions.  A thunderous wave of horror shuddered through him as he shrunk into Scion whimpering.  All things considered, the vampire was the lesser of two evils, and having had the ability to reason stripped from him, Harry ran towards it.  

            "Yes my pet," Scion crooned, "he is yours to play with." 

            Harry didn't want to play, he whimpered and shied away, turning to bury his face in Scion's shoulder, trying to escape the horrific image of Lord Voldemort.  

            "No my pet, you have to see."  Murmured Scion, turning the boy around again.  Harry had been reduced to nothing more than a child, his memories and knowledge of the world outside his imagination repressed to the brink of oblivion.  But something in his deepest psyche, something that had been ingrained in him since birth and compounded by endless experience told him to fear this gift.  "He'll never hurt you again dearest. Never again."

            It was true; the once great Voldemort had become less than a beaten dog.  He had become a lesser force than a tic – an irritant, and nothing more.  Holding on to the tree he had become dependent upon since shortly after the attack on Hogsmead, he was a pathetic creature.  Something in Harry longed to rebel, something in him longed to save Riddle from this absurdity.  He had once been a sight to behold, a towering monolith of ambition and personality but he was now a broken thing, a disgusting wretched thing.  Harry didn't want this to happen, even Voldemort, for nothing less than sheer gall, deserved to die honorably.  

            "Dearest.  Watch now.  Soon, all this power will be yours.  With a thought, you will be able to level your enemies.  Learn."  Scion taught.  He raised a hand in Tom's direction and the tree he'd been so desperately latched on to split in half.  Riddle cried in terror and tried scrambling to a nearby boulder; Harry was awash with pure sympathy – emotion without the inhibition of experience.  "Do you see? He is nothing.  I control his every move, if he breathes, it is with my permission."  

            With a simple flick of Scion's wrist, Riddle was on his feet, thick yellowed tears seeping from his snake like eyes.  "He will never be able to hurt you again."  It was with a vindictive thought that Scion did to Riddle, what Riddle had done to Harry, snapping every one of his bones into pieces, crushing them into dust. Starting with his toes, Scion's spell moved up, slowly grinding his bones into dust as the fragments stirred his nerve endings to agony.  Riddle's lungs collapsed under the demands of gravity, clogged by the powder his own bones had formed, his heart made a few feeble attempts at beating, but it was being weighed down by the pressure of his deflated organs as they turned to soup without the support of his bones.  He no longer looked like a man as he flopped to the forest floor like a rubber body suit.  Voldemort had not bled a single drop, nor had he had the opportunity to scream as his voice box was ground to dust and his larynx crushed. 

            Harry whimpered on his behalf. 

            Scion frowned in deep thought, he thought the gift of Riddle's life delivered on a silver platter, would please his Birdy, but then he smiled in realization.  Harry's compassion was the majority of his appeal; Harry wouldn't have wanted Tom's life, but his own freedom from Voldemort's grasp. He was so adorably naive, so innocent and perfect.  It would be a pleasure and a privilege to introduce his innocent little Birdy to the darker aspects of his power.  In time.  

            He couldn't see, and he couldn't stand not seeing.  Malfoy had to move, he had to get back to Harry.  Slowly, agonizingly slowly he rose to his feet, desperately trying to keep his knees from creaking and belying his position to the heightened senses of the vampire. He stood; keeping the invisibility cloak wrapped tightly around him so that it could not catch on a stray twig and make the noise that would spell his doom.  Slowly, watching every move his foot made within the cloak, he moved across the ground, barely stirring the leaves and loam underfoot.  Somehow he would reach Harry and get him back.  Though how was a mystery.             What Malfoy nearly tripped over as he was finally able to see Harry again, was a corpse.  In the most abstract sense of the word.  The body was more of a dry puddle than anything else, a dry puddle that had once been the most powerful wizard in the world.  A puddle that had once defeated Dumbledore in combat.  Malfoy felt his knees go weak, Harry was completely ineffectual, how was he, a mere student, going to kill a vampire? 

            Malfoy did his best to remember everything he had learned about vampires through his Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, but he came up remarkably short.  His entire school career had been defined by new teachers every year, miscommunication and misunderstandings abounded.  Often they learned the same thing twice, but more often, they learned nothing new at all.  Especially nothing new about vampires.  There was no hope; all he remembered were the Muggle superstitions. A steak through the heart, a garlic wreath around the neck, silver and crosses, he was obviously ill equipped to deal with this type of monster – the closest thing Malfoy had to a steak was his wand, he didn't even want to think about summoning the rest.  So what could he do? He had to get Harry out somehow, but there was no way to do so.  Harry was in the sadistic grasp of a vampire, a vampire that turned his childhood scourge into a puddle of goo.  

            The blonde gave a short, desperate little laugh. At least one of his worries in life had been alleviated.  Realizing his mistake too late, Malfoy's eyes widened in fear, his terror had been overlooked, blamed on Voldemort, but surely the vampire had heard his laugh.  How ironic. [1]

            Scion had heard.  His head jerked up, fangs tearing away from Harry's neck though they wanted nothing more than to ignore it, but that would have been impossible.  To deny the threat was to invite danger.  "I feel you little mortal." He cooed. Harry slumped forward, no longer supported by Scion's broad shoulder, he was too weak to hold up his head and on a deeper level, ashamed. Scanning the trees with the utmost caution, "and now I see you," he spotted him.  

These foolish mortals.  Magical influence slid right off of vampires, their vision pierced through invisibility cloaks, and their hearing shattered silencing spells.  Any and all magic was nullified when used against them, no matter how long it took to create, or how powerful.  

At their first meeting, Riddle had tried a spell so ancient that it ruffled his hair. But Avada Kedavra had done nothing more than that.  Tom, so confident in his powers, it had been so much fun to bend the haughty boy to his will.  The boy standing before him in no way measured up to the sheer audacity.  Riddle had been spiteful, this boy was quaking.  

Said quaking boy slowly removed Harry's invisibility cloak, pulling it from his tousled hair like a child emerging from under the covers.  His eyes were wide and his hands balled into fists, his taut nerves unable to relax them.  Malfoy didn't know what he'd gotten himself into, and most of him didn't want to know.  Why the hell had he followed Harry at the risk of his own life? Why on earth had he been so stupid? He should have run the moment he realized what was going on, he should have hightailed it back to the castle in search of someone with a degree in psychiatric care.  Though, things as they were, dying now, would save his family thousands of dollars in therapy sessions.  He found himself laughing in a twisted despondent sort of way.   

"Why do you laugh boy?" Draco didn't know the answer to that question.  He knew he was going to die, he knew without a doubt that his will to live would be overpowered by the vampire without hesitation; maybe he just found the situation funny. There was no point in being here, there was no point in sacrificing his life for nothing, there was no point in any of this.  All of the fights he'd had with Potter over the years, everything he'd worked so hard to obtain, would be for nothing.  This was incredible, the sense of hilarity that was swamping him with the desire to laugh as he cried. All of his efforts had been completely and utterly futile; there was absolutely nothing that mattered anymore.  

            He didn't want to die.  He wanted nothing more than to life on, he wanted to be a bastard and enjoy it.  His heart was pounding, he could hear it, feeling beating against his rib cage.  Malfoy was sure that the vampire could hear it too.  The desire to run for his life was tempered by logic, he wouldn't leave this forest alive, if he somehow escaped the vampire, a number of other terrible things would jump at the opportunity.  So what was he going to do?  Somewhere deep in his soul, deep in the confines of his most secret heart, there was a kernel of something else. An emotion other than fear, one that contradicted his sick sense of irony, and one that negated the need to run.  Altruism. In the heart of Draco Malfoy arose the need to protect himself and others from the evil that stood before him.  So this was compassion, this was what hero's and martyrs felt like?  Now that really was absurd, and Draco laughed harder than ever. This was ridiculous. 

            "Why are you laughing boy? What do you find so amusing?" Scion was incensed, his very presence struck fear into the hearts of everyone that encountered him, but this boy – this thing that didn't even deserve the title of boy – was laughing at him! 

            "Oh. Nothing." 

**Post Author's Notes:** [1] I don't do these often as is evidenced by my former chapters, but I felt the need to explain that comment.  As you know, or as the myth goes, laughter is supposed to extend your life.  Draco's morbid, and equally ironic sense of humor (ironic because the nefarious Voldemort was killed by someone that no one has heard of.) almost killed him and most probably shortened his life because he laughed. 

**            Okay, the last part was corny and I didn't end it here, in fact, I didn't even reach the climax but! Oh yes, there is a but, I have all of my cards on the table, and the next chapter on my monitor… look for it in theaters near you. Lol. **

3526 words. WAI WAI!!!  


	9. Wanting

**Author's Notes: There'll be a lot of switching POV's so you'll just have to bear with me. **I have officially dropped the old format.  The two parts seemed superfluous didn't they? Especially since every thing is combined now.  What did everyone think of Voldie's downfall?  Jeez that must have hurt… then again, I was never good at appealing to pathos, so I went lothos instead, tell me what you thought. I spent about 12 hours working on this (it took that long) and I have a nasty head cold, so if this makes no sense whatsoever, or if there are unforgivable syntax errors, I'm really sorry. 

OH! This is the advertising chapter, so here goes.  There is some great art by Kitsune, she's incredible, if you're into that sort of thing (anime and her original art) go check it out… it is really inspiring www.silvertales.com.  

Also.  I would love for everyone to do me a big favor.  One of my best friends wrote a HP fic, but NO ONE has read or reviewed it.  It shouldn't take long to read, and it's really quite funny having nothing at all to do with Ron and everything to do with Harry/Draco. And there's a new, semi-smutty chapter that I'm collaborating on coming up. So! Go read Ronald Weasley's Horror by TenshiOnna.  It would so delight us.  

For the record, I never described Scion in the story because it's just not worth it, but he's cute.  Black hair, grey eyes, broad shoulders, tall, slender, about 24 years old….  He's cute. We should all be so lucky as Harry to have gorgeous guys (with the best intentions of course) chasing after us. ^_~.  

**Review Responses: **

**FlowerFunLeah: **I'm so happy you liked it, I figure that this chapter I'll actually reach the climax and the next… well, you'll see. Anyway, that would have been a cool idea, save Dumbly survives in sunlight… and he's just not worth it.  I don't really like Dumbledore (he's just so… manipulative, he's not even honest about being a bastard like Voldy is), so I figure that either Voldemort forgot his liaisons with Scion, or he wasn't really afraid because vampires tend to protect their pets ^_~.  Anyway, great review. 

**KittenBabyGirl: **Exactly.  Poultry… Birdy…. Yeah.  Besides the fact that my own bird (cute, green, and fuzzy as she is) was irritating the hell out of me one afternoon when I was trying to sleep.  Lol… there's also this book… something like sex signs of the zodiac (or something like that, don't quote me cause I'm feverishly ill) but I figured that Draco was a Scorpio (he sounds like one ne?) and said book implied that after sex, Scorpio's tend to want strange things like roast duck (I love teriyaki chicken wings after a lemon)… lots of double entendres.  

**Weasley Wonders: **Wai! Sugoi sugoi! You're the first person (I think) to have commented on my gruesomeness.  THANK YOU! Of course, this chapter will answer all of your questions, including the Poultry one, which can be found above. ^_^. 

**CheeseJunkieJane: **That is a hilarious pen name. Thanks for the review; I hope you enjoy this one too.

**Em** **Parker: **I had to cut off the chapter like that, I'd finished my word quota, and I really wanted to stretch this into 10 chapters instead of 9… sorry.  Besides, it makes the suspense build. I guess you'll just have to be content with this chapter until I can put the ending up.  Thanks for putting up with it though, it's not that great… -_-;;

**Katrina: **Wow… everyone has noticed the Poultry thing but no one got my earlier hints (like the ability to read Malfoy's mind in one of the chapters… I don't recall which). Anyway, I'll see what I can do about making you guys laugh, but if you like morbid humor, go read A Malik Slushee (I wrote it… shouldn't be hard to find) it's pretty damned strange. Oh, and… I'll see what I can do about Harry. 

**Jollinar: **Wow! Germany! All things considered, you English is great, I don't know three words of German (I can say thank you but I can't spell it).   Anyway, thanks for reading, I'm so happy you have the patience for it!  

**Rebuky: **Wow! I'm so glad that I sucked you into this and made you laugh.  I'm the type of person that laughs in the most desperate situations and cries at…. Well, it's been a while since I've cried.  Anyway, thank you so much for your review, I love making people giggle, babble, shudder in revulsion.  You've made my day.  

**Lady-willowish: **You will see a new chapter very soon, I'm prophetic I know these things ^_~.  Sorry, I couldn't resist, though two days isn't too bad for a new chappie. 

**TenshiNoKoori****: **This chapter will be so long… and I think I've found a suitable chapter title maybe… you'll have to tell me what you think.  And yeah, Poultry.  Roast duck sounds good about now. *feral grin*

**Emeline****: **Updated.  

_In Darkness Found, Light Revealed_

Chapter 9: Wanting

"Why are you here?" That laughter was infuriating.  He accepted the interruption from Tom simply because Riddle was a gift for Birdy, and to ignore such a gift on such an important day would have been cruel… but this!  This was just unnecessary distraction!  Scion was a second away from ruthlessly killing the spy when he'd started laughing.  Mocking him, it was outrageous! 

*

Why was he here?  Malfoy had no idea.  He'd followed Harry out of a sense of duty, Harry had gone to Hogsmeade at his request, he'd been tortured because of Malfoy's inability to intervene, and he had been dragged here because the blonde couldn't stop it. But why did he follow?  For Harry of course.  He walked right into his doom for Harry's sake, not out of curiosity, not out of a vindictive sense of Slytherin pride, he came because he was worried about the luckiest boy in the world.  Suddenly, things weren't funny anymore.  

"I'm here," he said non-threateningly, he was walking on dangerous ground and he knew it, "because Potter's here." 

*

Scion's eyebrows knitted as he jerked back, hauling Harry with him and snarling possessively.  He regained control of himself almost immediately, but there was a moment when he was ready to flee the forest with Birdy in his arms to keep him from the strange boy.  "I am afraid," he said calculatingly, sounding very much like Malfoy Senior, "That I have taken a bit of a personal interest in him."  The boy didn't move an inch, he didn't try to back away.  

It was strange, Scion thought, that the blonde should be here at all.  Upon having entered Harry's mind many times, the vampire had seen this very boy, irritating to the last, from Harry's eyes.  He had assumed, given their constant bickering, that they were bitter enemies.  If Scion was not mistaken, and Scion was never mistaken, there was no logical explanation for the boy's appearance in the forest.  

What's more, the vampire was shaken.  The boy had had an epiphany, that much was obvious when he stopped laughing; Scion could no longer smell the fear on him, could no longer sense the desperation.  The cold nonchalance tempered by affection for _his_ Birdy had startled him.  There was no way in all the nine hells that a mere mortal boy would get to his Birdy, Harry would be coveted until the end of time.  

But… "What do you want?"

*

"Potter."  The answer surprised him. Malfoy wanted to live, he wanted to run, to cry, to beg, to start laughing again.  Did he want Harry?  He thought back on the past two months, the Gryffindor had been such a vexing twit that he'd wanted to strangle him at every opportunity presented to him.  But something had restrained him then, it was a fortunate thing, because somehow, despite years of bitter enmity they'd formed a sort of civility that was slowly becoming a real friendship.  

*

There were all sorts of reasons for Scion to be upset, not the least of which was when he finally obtained his goal, someone was there to wrench it away from him.  Birdy was his, he didn't have to kill this boy, because this boy was nothing more than an eyesore, a bug to be stepped on.  "I apologize," he said insincerely, "but I am afraid he is not yours for the having.  Now please, run along and play before I kill you."  

*

Malfoy ran.  He just didn't run in the right direction.  Instead of running for the safety of the castle as he had longed to do for the last hour, he ran for Harry.   "Potter? Potter can you hear me?"  Ignoring the fact that Harry was still very-much ensnared by an old and powerful demon, Malfoy cupped Harry's chin in his palm and lifted his face.  Harry's green eyes were blank; his face vacant of all emotion, Malfoy was sickened.  "Jesus Potter." 

*

Scion's eyes narrowed dangerously, this blonde thing was ruining his perfect reunion with Birdy.  He didn't know why it bothered him so much; in fact, it shouldn't have bothered him at all.  With a blast of power that forced the surrounding trees apart with a booming crack, Malfoy was flung backwards, away from Harry.

*

Harry tried to close his eyes, but he was incapable of that action, but he could let the muscles in his neck relax, his head hung limp like a rag doll's on its cloth neck.  His body didn't belong to him anymore, he couldn't control his actions, but he still saw and heard everything that transpired in the clearing, albeit through a foggy haze of incomprehensibility. He saw Riddle's death, he felt for him though he, more than anyone else, deserved what he got.  But… did he really deserve it?  He had looked so frightened, so like a child, Harry didn't want him to die, he just… he didn't know what he wanted.  Not this, never this.  In all the times that he had fought Voldemort, he never thought either of them would actually die – what was left to exist for? 

Why was Malfoy doing this?  He'd had his chance to survive but now… Scion would surely kill him.  Harry would have cried if he could, everyone he grew fond of kept sacrificing themselves for his sake.  And he was fond of Malfoy.  They fought for so long that Harry grew attached, like he had with Voldemort, there was never a moment in his mind when he imagined the future and hadn't seen himself fighting with Malfoy.  Now there was no future. For either of them.  He couldn't stand it anymore! He would have willingly thrown himself at Scion's feet to keep Malfoy alive, to keep just one of them alive. But he'd never been given the chance.   

He didn't want this.  And he wanted Scion to know it.  All of his senses felt clouded, he couldn't see very well, Malfoy was fuzzy and Scion too close to be clear. Neither could he hear, the vampire's voice rang through his ears but there were no birds, no scrabbling of insects, he could barely hear Malfoy, though he knew he was there. He couldn't even feel the biting February air. He felt like he had the head cold of a century without the pain; of course it could have been worse, his nose could have been running. 

*

A scream of fear wrenched itself from Malfoy's throat as he hit the ground and skidded to a stop at the base of a tree with the wind knocked out of him.  Gasping for breath in the attempt to re-inflate his lungs, Malfoy picked himself up, using the ancient tree's roots for support.  He wouldn't go down that easily. 

Oh but it hurt, his entire back would be bruised if he survived this.  There were probably rocks in his skin, rocks and tiny pieces of tree bark, he could feel pebbles imbedded where he landed on his shoulders but he shook it all loose in a shower of debris as he stood. "Potter."  Harry was his driving force, under ordinary circumstances he would have run, but it would have been a sin to leave someone that helpless behind to face god knows what alone. "Let him go."

*

These mortals! Arrogant, greedy, pathetic mortals! He only wanted one.  A few in the many centuries he'd been alive, a _very_ precious few, but these selfish mortals insisted on keeping them.  All he wanted was the occasional consort, there hadn't been more than four in the millennium he had been alive; Harry would have been the fifth, but recently…. 

Apparently it was more honorable to be the victim of a vampire than to _become_ a vampire. On and on these pathetic mortals went, about souls and nobility. Five hundred years ago it was easy to obtain his prey, and exchange of sorts. He would seal a pact with his queries village, so long as he did not hunt within the village, he could have anything he wanted. The village would promptly deliver the object of his affections with a red ribbon.  In this time of peace, every member of a society would rather die protecting him or her than give up a single human.  Worthless, hive-minded species.  

Being a nameless corpse, rotting in a forest having died a mysterious death was better than becoming immortal, becoming more than human! What a ludicrous belief! What was a soul to immortality! What was a soul at all? Scion had never missed his. 

*

"Please just let him go."  He knew that it wouldn't work, but he had to try. He had to let Harry know that he'd tried before he died.  He was afraid, that was true, he wanted to run crying to his mother but he knew he couldn't.  There were more important things than his life, like his honor, and Harry's.  Malfoy's didn't back down. They were thrown in prison, guarded by dementors, tortured, harangued, or even unfairly persecuted for their loyalties to the wizarding world. Malfoy's didn't back down.  Ever. 

The vampire sneered contemptuously and Malfoy clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth in frustration. This was idiocy, there was nothing to do! All he could do was beg and even that was futile! Then again…. Still partially hidden by the fallen branches of the tree, Malfoy dug through his many pockets searching for anything that might be of assistance to him.  There was a crumbling muffin from dinner in one of his robe pockets; either Crabbe or Goyle must have shoved it in there when he wasn't looking.  Suddenly Malfoy found himself with a headache, if these were the tools, he had, he was screwed. 

There was a cross around his neck, he knew because his mother had given it to him two years ago and insisted he wear it.  It had become a habit and now he never took it off.  That would surely be of some use, but it was such a small thing, platinum, not silver, his mother bought it for him the day his father was arrested; Draco saw it as a bit of irony.  His mother bought him a symbol of Christ, something to put his faith in and pray to the very day his father was arrested.  He didn't have much faith in it at all, but maybe it would sting his enemy.  

This could be difficult.  "Let Potter go." 

*

Scion sneered. The little nuisance was challenging him.  The gall! He'd been more than fair, he'd given the boy an opportunity to walk away, he'd thrown him off with a warning, even after he had _touched _Birdy.  Yet the blonde was still before him. Scion was growing angry, Harry was quaking in his arms, this boy was upsetting his Birdy!  

The vampire readjusted Harry in his arms, turning him around and covering his perfect eyes with his broad shoulder.  He would allow no one to harm his Birdy, no one would be permitted to trespass upon the sanctity of Birdy's mind. Scion cradled Harry's head, gently running his fingers through his wild hair as he prepared to kill this thing that laid claim to his possession.  

*

Malfoy knew he was in deep, up shit creek without a paddle, or a boat for that matter. His hand went to his throat where his mother's cross was resting against his pounding pulse point.  Clutching the cross, he strode across the clearing once again intent on Harry.  The vampire was an obstacle, and a hell of an obstacle at that, but he wasn't the objective.  Was this what the people fighting with Dumbledore felt like when they were fighting Death Eaters?  Was Voldemort the objective or just an obstacle towards peace?  It was all pointless now wasn't it? He was tempted to start laughing again, how ridiculously anti-climatic, all the training, all the preparation, all the secret rendezvous and all it took was one vampire.  

The look on the vampire's face was priceless.  He was incensed, his nostrils had flared, his eyes narrowed and his hands clenched, but he was still trying to maintain an air of cool superiority.  Malfoy carefully trained his features into a blank slate, the situation was dire, the people involved too important to be laughed at.  He didn't have a plan, maybe if he just distracted the vampire for long enough, then Harry would have the opportunity to run.  He would be safe again, at least for a moment.  

*

The mortal was brash, he was foolish, and he would die. Harry was his, and no scrawny, half-trained wizard would take him.  It would have taken the boy a miracle, and miracles didn't exist. With a thought, the boy was in the air, and with a wave of his hand, Scion ripped the cross from the boys neck.  Harry shuddered in his arms.  "Shh. We will be away soon." 

*

Harry didn't _want_ to be away, or rather, he wanted to be away from Scion. Very, very far away.  He was afraid, he had seen Voldemort's remains, and he didn't want the same to happen to Malfoy.  He had been fighting, struggling with all that he possessed against the vampire but nothing was happening.  His body wouldn't respond, years of quidditch had done nothing for his mind. Maybe if he'd practiced Occlumency harder, maybe if he hadn't looked into Snape's memories, if he hadn't been so incredibly stupid, if he hadn't been in the forest that night…. Maybe he wouldn't be in this mess.  

That night, he'd been in the forest because he just needed to think. He had just… he had wanted to be alone that night.  He'd been rejected by Lavender Brown that night, he wasn't in love with her by any means, but she was cute and had developed a cracking sense of humor. He had only wanted to go to the Yule Ball with her. It was the simple things that hurt the worst, the special treatment and the ordinary loneliness that plagued him. She hadn't been mean, she didn't have it in her to be mean, but she had turned him down and that was that.  All he had been able to think was her giggling voice as it had grown somber, "I would Harry but… well, nothing ever goes right with you and… I don't want to put myself in a compromising position."  What she really meant was "you have a tendency to get people killed.  I don't want the publicity."  He had survived dinner, all of Hermione's sympathetic looks and all of Ron's oblivious optimism ("Maybe you could ask Parvati, Harry."), but he just couldn't take anymore when Lavender wouldn't even look at him. He hated being Harry Potter, so he ran.  He ran outside for some fresh air with an over the shoulder excuse to his friends, and he'd ended up in the Forbidden Forest.  

He remembered the fear of that night, all of his anxieties over never having a meaningful relationship had disappeared in an instant. His parents had died, that was true, Sirius, Cedric, Moody, all dead – even Arthur Weasley had nearly gotten himself killed and it all boiled down to Harry in the end.  It all seemed so trivial, and now someone else was trying to die for him.  Would this never end?!  

The whole night he'd only been able to produce small shudders and repressed screams that came out as whimpers. He hated being this helpless he _hated _it!  He had always hated it, and tonight, he had no intention of letting someone else die for him. He had to get away. 

*

The cross, his only hope, went flying from his neck and into the line of trees, the chain left a welt on the back of his neck, he couldn't see it, but he could feel it.  He still had the bran muffin, was the vampire by any chance allergic to bran? But Scion's allergies didn't matter as a line of white-hot pain slid from the welt on Malfoy's neck to the small of his back.  He screamed as the pain grew deeper, sinking beneath his skin and absorbing into his bones as they too roared in anguish. He was on fire! There was no smoke, there was no stench of burning flesh but he was on fire, he had to be! 

Suddenly the pain stopped and in its place was utter cold. Shivering as a breeze passed over him, he hung limp in the air.  A small trickle of liquid was making itself known, trailing down his back from the line of agony the vampire had inflicted upon him.  He was bleeding. That had been agony, something that rivaled the unforgiveables, but the vampire had a sadistic grin on his face and Malfoy knew without a doubt that there would be more.  Much more.

*

Harry was growing impatient, Scion could feel it in the way he twitched and groaned.  If Birdy was discontent then the blonde had to suffer, he had far too much of an effect on his dearest little treasure.  Only he should have been able to affect his pet, under his control, he should have been the only influence that Harry felt, but this boy had somehow made an impression.  That was unacceptable. 

With a few deft but gentle movements, Scion set Harry against the trunk of a fallen tree.  He would give this impudent boy a full taste of his powers before he let him die, then he and Harry would be off before the sun rose.  With a lingering kiss, first at the nape of Harry's lips where blood still seeped from the puncture wounds, then his lips, and finally he kissed Harry's forehead like a loving parent comforting a child.  Then he turned to play with the blonde. 

*

Harry shuddered in revulsion, or his body tried to. Voldemort was one thing, he was honest, he was straightforward, he was a bastard.  But at least he wasn't a perverted bastard.  He felt like squirming away from the amorous vampire but his body wouldn't obey him.  He had just been kissed by a member of the same sex, while Harry was no homophobe, it freaked him out.  His warden should have been a corpse rotting in the earth, a grease stain buried hundreds of miles away.  He most certainly should not have been inclined nor capable of _kissing_! 

If a soul was capable of gagging, Harry's did.  He hadn't been able to see what Scion did to Malfoy after he was lifted into the air, he had been desperate to see the source of his screaming but his efforts were futile.  It wasn't fair! He had never felt so useless in his life, being coddled and caressed while one of his… friends (was he a friend?) was tortured.  

He had a chance now, there was a faint glimmer of hope.  There was a slim, extremely slim, chance that he would be able to escape with his life and a semblance of his sanity. But at what cost? He no more wanted to die than he wanted to dance around in an Easter Bunny suit at a Death Eater party, but he couldn't leave Malfoy behind.  He had done so much for him, suffered so much for him.  His fingers twitched, clenching in the wet snow, Harry could barely feel the cold.  

*

Malfoy felt the power lifting him up, swirling around him; he felt it with every cell in his body.  There was no way to fight this; he could only hope that his end would be quick.  Though there was one advantage to facing a vampire.  Just as vampires were not affected by wizarding magic, neither could they use it; this way, at least he couldn't imagine his death. He could not picture the spells in his mind, and he couldn't see in his mind exactly how the magic would tear through his body.  That had to be a good thing… right?

A sudden jerk had him spinning in mid air, what had happened?  His shoulder throbbed and pulsed though he hadn't felt an injury.  Moments later, another bolt of the same power ripped through the fleshy muscle of his upper arm, spinning him in the other direction.  He was getting dizzy. It took a moment for blood to come to the wound, it took half as long for him to feel it.  The throbbing in his shoulder intensified as hot blood seeped down his arm and dripped from his fingertips, the gash in his other arm began bleeding heavily as well.  Malfoy was going to be sick. 

Pressure like a great burst of concentrated wind caught him in the side, cracking one of his ribs like pasta.  If Draco hadn't seen his assailant standing before him, he would have believed he'd been kicked.  More of the same knives of wind sliced into his thighs, leaving gaping holes, his legs twitched as he screamed and his pants, below the knee, ran dark with blood. 

Another burning line of pain, just like the first ran across his skin.  He could see the magic in the blood that was dripping from his shoes, he could feel it in his bones, filling every inch of him and making his body scream in pain. His bones were hollowed by the flow, broken into infinitesimal pieces though they retained their shape. His blood turned to battery acid in his veins, burning every capsule.  His body was being violently ripped apart by the burning magic, but the only physical evidence of the occurrence was the line on his back.  And his screams of agony.  

Malfoy screamed himself hoarse, he could feel the air tearing through his throat and desecrating his vocal chords, but he couldn't hear a sound. All he knew was the pain.  Then he was cold again.  

  *   

  Scion tossed the boy aside, with a wave of his hand he let the magic he so rarely used bear him into a tree.  The blonde slid to the base of the large oak and grunted, no longer able to scream.  With his advanced hearing, he heard a bone crack and heard the boy cough.  It was a wet cough, a bloody cough; Scion could smell lymph and the acid in the liquid. The boy would die soon; he was not to be bothered by him any more.  

Birdy was sitting with a horrified expression on his gentle face, his mouth open just a fraction, but the change could not have been more significant had he been shrieking. Apparently the blonde had been of some import to him but that was of no consequence because he would soon be forgotten.  Scion would introduce Harry to a world of wonders far beyond the irritating boy.  He would do it now, in this forest, in familiar territory. Birdy would wake up, safe and close to home, then they would be away, never to come back.  

"Come little one." Harry sprung to his feet, though he had not given his body permission to do so.  He moved towards Scion just as he had left the infirmary, moving slowly and steadily about three inches off the ground, he floated towards the vampire.  "Come to me." 

At last, Birdy was in his arms again, soft and perfect as ever.  This time there would be no distractions, there was no one left to kill.  No one but Harry, but Harry he would bring back.  He was so warm it was almost a shame, but after all of this, after all of the effort he had gone to, after the energy he had expended to obtain the rare jewel that was Harry Potter, he would not be put off by the boy's warmth.  

Scion smiled and opened his mouth, tilting Harry's head to the side with a gentle caress and exposing his neck.  He softened the skin with his mouth, almost reverently tasting the boy before he bit.  Hard, deep into the artery, letting the blood pump into his mouth.  The sweet, sweet blood, better than anything he had ever known as a mortal, warm, intoxicating, and addictive.  This was ecstasy of the most incredible sort, a rapture he had known but four times before.  

This was the perfection that had kept him along all this time when others of his kind fell to the weakness and insanity of utter desolation.  This was the soul that renewed his faith. A soul that would always belong to him. 

*

All hope was lost; he knew it better than he knew his name. Malfoy was dead; the only person that even knew of his existence in this forest could never tell a single soul. If he could have cried, he would have.  Why did life insist on torturing him so?! Everything he'd ever known was ripped apart before his eyes, slowly his friendships had disintegrated because of the emotional and political ramifications, the pressure of being Harry Potter.  His ties had begun to fray, he didn't communicate to Ron and Hermione like he used to, Dumbledore had finally gotten fed up with him, speaking to him only in reference to Voldemort. But Voldemort was dead, so was Malfoy, his constants had been eliminated.  He watched everything as it fell apart, and now he would witness his own death, as though through a window.  

He couldn't let himself die, he couldn't just give up. His parents, his godfather, his rival in romance and the Tri-Wizard tournament, Moody, now Malfoy... every one was dead because of him.  For them, for their memory, he wouldn't let himself die.  He wouldn't give up until every possible option was extinct.  He wouldn't die until this bastard sucked every drop of blood out of him.  He wouldn't die until he took Scion with him.  He would have given anything if one of them had just… backed off….

*

He couldn't move.  It was strange how death had teased him, for the last two hours he'd known he would die, now it was here to claim him, and he wasn't ready.  There was hope, there had to have been hope.  His arm throbbed, upon impact with the tree, his collar bone had snapped and he bit deeply into his tongue; splinters and tree bark had nestled into the open gash on his back, there was a hole in his shoulder, and his thighs were still languidly pumping blood from the wounds that the vampire had inflicted on him.  Malfoy was very much alive, but not for much longer. He probably couldn't walk, and he didn't have the energy to try, but he had to. For Harry's sake, he wanted to.  

Malfoy shifted his head to the side, scanning the ground for anything useful.  It hurt like hell to move, even that little bit, but he had done it and the effort had been more than worth it.  There on the ground, about two feet from his broken arm lay the discarded cross.  It glinted in the weak moon light, the platinum just as beautiful as the day it was bought, polished and brilliant in the clean snow.  Draco almost cried for relief, it was the only thing he had.  

The vampire hadn't detected his wand, he hadn't thought twice about taking it off the blonde.  Malfoy wasn't a Slytherin for nothing, for the first time since he'd been out here, he had a plan.  He couldn't use his magic just yet; he was too weak to waste it, so with much pain and even more caution he sidled over to his cross.  The vampire's magic was still singing through his bones; had he the energy he would have coughed again being unable to scream.  

Clenched in his hand, the cold piece of metal felt like a toothpick in the face of a giant.  It would have been a wonderful asset if he'd had a large club and a piece of meat caught between his molars, but without those things, it was of little use.  He had to believe, he had to count on the fact that hundreds of thousands of people prayed to crosses and crucifixes and the god that they represented. Hundreds of thousands of people had faith in the piece of metal he held in his hand, there had to be a reason.  

Malfoy slowly drew out his wand and with a remarkable display of balance for one that was bleeding as heavily as he was, he set the cross at its tip, lying the flat metal against the round nose of his wand.  It was now or never as Malfoy summoned all the strength he had left and poured it into a spell.  The tip of his wand grew hot, and it turned a fiery red, the damp cross on its tip sputtered a bit. He poured more energy into it, repeating the incantation, the thin cross grew red, the tip of the wand white. He was probably destroying the wood that encased the dragon's heart string but there was hope.  

The metal slowly began to melt and it dripped down the side of the wand, miraculously retaining the form of the cross.  Malfoy ended the spell the second he saw this happen, his mother's cross was now a part of his wand, the magic would forever be tainted by the faith that could destroy the vampire.  Let him die.  Horribly. 

The blonde couldn't risk dropping his wand and catching the damp loam on fire, so even though it made his wrist ache, he held the wand perpendicular to the forest floor until any semblance of color and heat had vanished.  

*

Bliss.

*

Misery.

*

Agony.

*

Harry still couldn't move, he was still paralyzed by Scion's spell but his senses were becoming more and more refined.  His hearing became more acute, he could smell the rot of leaves buried under the snow, he could taste the remains of the butterbeer from Hogsmeade – that had seemed so long ago, years ago – he couldn't see anything, but he could feel that he wasn't wearing his glasses. He could feel his life draining away.

There was a rustling, Scion was moaning, his hands and feet were numb, his head was light. There was still a rustling. His head fell against Scion's shoulder though he still stared out over the black clad barrier.  In front of him, he saw something stirring, through his blurred vision he saw a flash of light and heard some grunting.  He couldn't imagine what it was, he was so dizzy and weak, he was going to die if he couldn't move. Scion's spell was weakening as he became more distracted, but so was Harry. 

From the thick of the forest, Malfoy came crawling into the forest.  His face was twisted in pain, and his skin pallid and white as a sheet – Harry could see it clear as day even through the haze of his bad vision.  He watched as Malfoy climbed to his feet and leaned heavily against a tree, "Let Potter go."

He jerked violently, the tree behind him cracked, he would have flown at the command of Scion's power, but there was nowhere to go.  With a weak groan, he slumped to the ground. Harry stared at him desperately, Malfoy was dying for him. 

Harry felt familiar stinging behind his eyes, burning, itching, hot and stinging.  Hot liquid dripped from his eyes, warm it ran sideways down his face and dripped from the tip of his nose, falling cold on to Scion's shoulder.  Everything that was boiling, repressed under the surface came bubbling up at the sight of Malfoy lying, unblinking under the large tree.  This was all so wrong, Malfoy should have been anything but dead, he should have been a pompous bastard, he should have been laughing in the castle about Neville's idiocy, he should not have been dead! How had things gotten so screwed up?  In one day, everything had come crashing down.  

Harry cried harder, he couldn't do anything but cry it seemed.  He couldn't do anything to protect himself, from anything.  

*

He wasn't going to ask nicely anymore.  There was no reason for any of this, he could have walked away but he stayed.  Now he would never leave, Harry was almost dead, surely the vampire had drained him by now, he was almost dead.  There was so much he wanted to do now, so much that he wanted to say, he wanted to see the Slytherin dorms again, he wanted to eat pumpkin pasties again, hell, he wanted to call Granger a Mudblood again. 

Then he saw Harry cry. 

That was something he _didn't_ want to see again.  That was something he had never imagined he'd see in his entire life, Harry was strong.  Harry never cried, that article by Rita Skeeter had been pure bullshit, Harry never cried.  Maybe for his family, maybe as a baby, but never, NEVER would he cry in front of an enemy. Malfoy couldn't stand seeing that, and he sure as hell didn't want it to be the last thing he saw.  

He raised his wand. It took more effort than he would have thought possible.  "Harry…" 

*

Maybe it was a miracle, there was no spell that initiated the turn of the tides. It might have been the same force that had caused sparks when he first picked up his wand, it might have been the effort of a desire so powerful that no one understood, but somewhere in the cosmos, something clicked.  Something worked.  

Malfoy's wand emitted a great light, Scion turned away from Harry, dropping his limp corpse to the forest floor, just in time to see the blast that spelled his doom.  The vampire shrieked as it hit him, burning him from the inside just as his spell had done to Draco.  Malfoy watched aghast as Harry fell to the ground, his head hit an uprooted tree root, instead of marveling at the specter of the vampire. The immortal became a burning husk of ash as he died.  

"Harry…" 

**Post Author's Notes: Bloody Hell! That was a long chapter, 5,695 words, **

**I beat myself by over 2000 words, jeez.  **Hey, did anyone catch the incongruity in Scion saying he didn't miss his soul?  I don't know where that came from, I'm pretty sick (feverish and I may be delusional), but I thought it was funny. Oh, and I killed Moody.  I couldn't bring myself to off Tonks or one of the Weasleys, they're too cool, but I'm doing an irony theme in this story, and Moody's always so careful… ::laughs… then runs off to blow her nose::

Did you know, I watched the Princess Bride this Saturday (there was nothing else on and I have a love of semi-witty repartee in the face of idiocy) and Wesley (better known as the Dread Pirate Roberts or Cary Elwes) reminds me of Draco.  Blonde, slender, handsome, pretty eyes… gorgeous… it inspired me to writing. 

**One last very important thing about this chapter! **There's this whole, Christian crosses thing with our Dearest Draco.  I'm not Christian, I don't hold particular stock in amulets or whatever.  HOWEVER! I do believe that if enough people place enough trust in a symbol, it begins to have power.  Think for example of the Swastika (Sorry Jollinar, it's the only universally powerful example I can think of… I'm not being prejudiced I promise I like Germany, it was really pretty when I went there), it holds a certain sway over the thoughts of the people and is generally considered a sign of evil because of what it was used for. You know? A shudder of fear and all that. Well, Christianity and the faith placed in God (or whatever) is much bigger than Nazi Germany, therefore more powerful, the ultimate faith of millions of people is the only thing that gives their symbols power. I used that. Actually, for your supply of useless information, the Swastika was, in both Native America and Japan, a symbol of good luck and balance.  The things you learn in second grade (and from Blade of the Immortal ^_^, the comic). 


	10. Dizzy

**_Lemons on request! Lemons on request! Ask for smut and thou shalt receive!  Seriously, I've already written it (or am in the process thereof), you just need to ask. _**

**Author's Notes:  **I suck at romance.  Every villain that I'm going to kill is dead, parents have been wrapped up in a neat little bundle, angst has been tied in, and now I have to write the sap and WAFF that you've been asking of me.  Well, let me tell you, I have read and read and read sappy romantic stuff and just found it saccharine. It's not something I'm particularly adept at imitating, so please, at least read my post notes if you're so unsatisfied.  

Oh… there's a lot of dialogue in this one.  I tried to avoid it, I tried to keep my conversations to a minimum, I tried to show, not tell, but I have been defeated by habit.  (Besides, there's not much action to be had right now… next chapter) I have given into the powers of conversation… sorry, I'm watching Captain Planet (Tee hee, Captain Planet has a mullet)… it's making me weird.

**Disclaimers:** They're not mine, they never will be.  If you nice official looking people in black suits and ties read this, please acknowledge the sentence before this one and let a girl dream. I do no one (but perhaps myself) harm and I most definitely earn no profits from this.  Wouldn't it be cool if I could though? I mean, wow, I'd be the first person in history to have a job that I love… 

**Review Responses:**

**FlowerFunLeah****: **Aren't mothers a pain in the ass? My mum bugged me about dishes when I was busy coughing up a lung. Anyway, I'm happy that you liked the Draco thing. I still don't think I got the emotion across though. I've always had issues with that, not conveying the desperation…. Yeah, I suck at emotions.

**Weasley**** Wonders: **You shall have your answers! I'm happy you liked it, I was trying to make my gruesome more gruesome, but my head wasn't functioning well enough. Ah well. Thanks ever so much for sticking with this story. 

**MedNar****: **Oh yay! New meat! Heh, sorry, that's my sick sense of humor coming through again. Anyway, what were you confused about?  I don't know that I know the answer to your question. I don't know if the mass faith in the cross and the magic combined together to put power to the cross' punch but… I don't know.  I think I was trying for more of a true love (or true dependence) concentrated through an instrument of magic thing but I might have botched it… I was pretty whipped. Anyhow, thanks masses for your review! 

**Lightning Rain: **YAY! Hello there, I'm glad you like Scion, he's immortal, he's cute, he's petulant… yeah. I hope that his death hasn't been too traumatic for everyone, it was a bit… abrupt. Anyway, here's hoping you like the next one too. 

**Minnamo****: **You know, I think that I would have liked seeing Harry as a pet too, but not Scion's pet.  Maybe later ^_~.  I hope that Draco isn't too OOC, he's a little soft but given that he had the shit beat out of him, please forgive me.  

**TenshiNoKoori****: **Yeah, Malfoy is a chicken, I was hoping that he wasn't too OOC, frankly (given his detention in first year) I think he would have run but that's where slash and cannon differ.  Anyway, thanks for the reviews, I hope he's not too… un Malfoyish in this chapter. 

**Emeline****: **… sometimes I just don't know how to respond.  Anyway, thanks for reading.

**DVM: **I really would have liked to incorporate more of the vampire thing into Harry, and I still might ::rewrites chapter:: but… that might be difficult for what I have planned.  I'm glad you thought that Harry was funny, I know I'd just have to squirm, I mean, EW! Unnecessary contact.   I had _no_ idea that Malfoy meant bad faith, that's pretty fascinating, and he really doesn't have faith in the cross, he's a bit like me, I think he thinks that because lots of other people have faith in god etc,, that using a cross to kick Scion's rear will work.  Besides, maybe wearing something that close to your heart for almost 2 years makes it powerful somehow…. I dunno, I've been trying to explain it to myself since I wrote it. Anyway, thank you so much for the review ^_^.

**KittenBabyGirl****: **I have no idea what's going to happen to Harry and Draco, I think for the first bit of this chapter (I miss the old format) I'll do an omnipresent third instead of a focused one…. I have a quaker parakeet (or a monk parakeet) named Pistachio (we call her anything from Chicken to Fruit Loop), she's a cute little thing, but she was on my shoulder one afternoon and she did the screechy thing right into my ear.  I couldn't hear properly for a few hours.  Stupid Chicken. 

**PS: ** I'm glad it was interesting, whenever I go back and read, I think, "Oh but I could have done so many things differently!" Anyway, it's not really about the reviews, I love them I really do, and for the most part I write for them, but I would finish this even if I didn't get them.  If you have suggestions for my summary, (heh, the Veela part must stay, it's attention catching) let me know… I suck at summaries.

**Jollinar****: **Good, I'm happy you thought it was cute (not too cute – I hope – as I keep torturing people).  Danke! I knew how to say it, I really did, but I couldn't decide if it was spelled Danke or Danka… heh.  Thanks for letting me know.   

**Lady-Willowish: **I could feed the barrel of monkeys to my bird! Yup, they're starting to care about each other, are you as excited as I am? Seriously, I don't know what's going to happen, but I'm excited about it.   

**Tuulikki****: **Aw, thanks.  I know that you've been sick, and busy (isn't being sick _and_ busy the worst?) so I appreciate you're thinking of me.  

_In Darkness Found, Light Revealed_

Chapter 10: Dizzy

"H-Harry." 

*

The astronomy professor had spent hours cramped in the north tower, Mars was brilliant, the closest it had been in millennium.  There was no particular reason why Mars had been so close for so long, and that is why he chose to spend his Saturday evening cooped up in an armchair with a telescope in his nearly-frozen, wrinkled old hands.  He was almost reluctant to leave his seat, the surface of the planet had been seething for hours, but he was cold, and tired. A trip to the kitchen for some cocoa (with perhaps a spot of rum) would be just the thing to wake him up and warm him up, and so, having sacrificed watching the suddenly fascinating surface of Mars, he left the tower.

The last thing Professor Vector expected to find coming down the stairs, at four o'clock in the morning, as his old joints creaked was two teenaged boys, or what was left of them.  It took about two minutes of panic and spinning around on the spot before Dumbledore arrived. The Headmaster of Hogwarts knew of everything that happened on his campus, and a good deal of things that didn't; in mere moments he had Draco and Harry floating up to the infirmary.  

Dumbledore knew that he should have been wary that night when Harry went dashing out into the forest, but the Order of the Phoenix and his responsibilities to the school had been vying for attention, the dual effort was weighing on him.  The Voldemort Activity, as it had been so inaptly named, was almost non-existent, he was concerned that his spies were being misled. Everyone knew of Voldemort's reemergence, so there was no reason for him to hide, but after three months of the murder and mayhem that everyone was expecting, Voldemort disappeared. For 18 months, no one heard a peep from their informants and the very few people on the inside were bored stiff. 

To the contrary of expectations, Voldemort's silence terrified people, Ministry fireplaces were being flooed by the hundreds by frightened wizards and witches because their cats had gone missing.  It had required a fine balance of citizen awareness and damage control to keep the whole situation from exploding into the Muggle world, Dumbledore could not be bothered with a teenaged boy's romantic problems.  The Forbidden Forest had been emptied of many of the dangerous inhabitants that had flocked around Hogwarts for centuries, the monsters found there were few and far between. The Werewolf act of 1845 had provided many half-human beings with jobs and homes, there was no reason for them to stay in the forest.  Because of this, when Harry paid a visit to the forest, Dumbledore was sure he was capable of handling whatever was in there.  

He was mistaken and suffering for every moment of it. There was only so much he could do in the field of medicine, he stopped the bleeding, or tried to, but there wasn't much more to stop.  He watched by nervously as Madame Pomfrey tried healing Harry with spells and failed, he accidentally stuck his head in the fire seconds before the spell on the floo powder activated – setting his beard on fire – when he called St. Mungo's to retrieve a Muggle specialist. He stared in amazement when the doctor from St. Mungo's gave Harry an IV and 6 pints of blood.  He felt guilty as he realized why Harry had bled so much, when his only obvious injuries were a lump on the head and a puncture in his neck.

Mister Malfoy hadn't received attention until Madame Pomfrey decided that she could do nothing for Harry.  It may have been a bit prejudiced, but Dumbledore didn't stop to think about the unfairness of double standards despite the fact that Malfoy's involvement was entirely his fault. Until Voldemort died, they _needed_ Harry, and as much as it pained him, Mister Malfoy was expendable. They were both unconscious, both closer to death than any seventeen year old should be. 

He would inform the students in the morning, already planning the speech in his head. "Students, we have reason to believe that there may be vampire activity in the Forbidden Forest, I would like to take this time to remind all students that they are, indeed, forbidden to enter the Forbidden Forest for obvious reasons. Please be cautious at all times, and do not wander near the forest without permission."   It should be warning enough, the whole school had been set on their ears by Voldemort so that only the most foolhardy students would go into the forest; with his additional warning, no one would dare.  

Of course, giving a specific title to the dangers in the forest would alert further suspicion.  The students were far from stupid; there would be ardent curiosity and widespread panic when they realized Harry Potter was involved.  The poor boy had a knack for being feared, everyone would suspect he was a vampire until he began attending classes again. Dumbledore knew that none of his reassurances to the student body, or even the teachers, would go very far to subdue the terror, it would be the Chamber of Secrets relived… again. Garlic amulets would be the latest fashion, crosses and silver would be sent from home in a maelstrom of owls, students would be whispering in the halls about the newly made vampire for months to come.  It had the potential to be a disaster until Dumbledore could ascertain the problem and fix it.

Dumbledore could hear the rumors flying around the corridors already, "I heard that Potter is a vampire, they're keeping him in the dungeons…" To which Miss Granger would counter, "He's in the hospital wing, there are plenty of windows." Then the unnamed speaker, most probably Ernie McMillan – the boy spread rumors like knives spread margarine – "Why then? There's not a scratch on him!" Miss Granger would not have a response for this, and the rumors would continue to circulate.  Or, during one of the many altercations between Gryffindor and Slytherin, some unfounded accusation would be flung in Harry's direction. "The damned Potty joined the dark forces and attacked poor Draco!" "Is that true? Could Harry have joined Voldemort?" "Why attack the ferret, he's in their inner circle isn't he?" "But what about the vampire!?" 

There would be definite repercussions for his negligence, if he had only paid more attention to Harry instead of getting wrapped up in the worries of the Order, there were no reports of Voldemort activity because there _was _no Voldemort activity. Wizarding magic did not work on vampires, it worked on Voldemort, he should have been more concerned.  He had been fighting the Forbidden forest for far longer than he'd been fighting Voldemort, his priorities were off. It was still his school; he should have been able to sense the beast's presence. Somehow.  He would have to wait for Mister Malfoy to wake up before he heard the full story. 

            *

Oh god, dizzy. He was so dizzy, what was this? Where was he?  For the first time in a long time he felt… warm, comfortable.  Was he in heaven, had he died? Was he ever alive? Or was this just a pleasant dream, filled with everything he ever wanted? What had he wanted? Did he want to wake up?  

"Potter?" Was his name 'Potter,' there were so many things that he almost remembered, was 'Potter' one of them?  "Wake up Potter."  That voice, it was on the brink of his memories, commanding, arrogant, manipulative, it was so familiar!  He hated the tone in that voice, he knew he didn't hate the person that owned that voice, but he hated the tone and he couldn't for the life of him remember who it belonged to.    

"Leeve me alne Mafoy…" His tongue felt like a cotton pad. Malfoy? Who was Malfoy?  Was Malfoy the voice? Malfoy was a jerk.  He cracked one eye open to see who this Malfoy was, but found that he couldn't see much at all… "Where are my glasses?"

"Merlin, Potter, are you really that dense?"  A pair of thick, spello-taped, plastic frames entered his field of vision, then immediately improved it. 

"Actually Mister Potter," That voice was familiar also, with a wince Harry realized that he wasn't alone with Malfoy.  Every time he'd woken up in the infirmary, Dumbledore had been there, this occasion was no different. "Mister Malfoy informs me that you've had quite an adventure. In fact, if I'm not mistaken, you'll have another interesting scar to show for it."

Harry did his best to sit up and glare at Dumbledore, but he failed miserably.  This man had done everything in his power to keep potentially life-saving information away from him, he continuously stuck his nose in Harry's business only to fail when Harry needed him the most. The whole catastrophe with Scion could have been avoided by just a little meddling, but Dumbledore had pointedly ignored him all year long save an incident with detention.  Harry was extremely tempted to tell the man to shove it.  "Good, maybe you can tell me what happened."  He said icily. 

"You don't remember? Really Potter, I know you hit your head but enough is enough." 

Harry stared at Malfoy blankly, it didn't matter what transpired, some things never changed, "I remember what happened you ponce.  How the hell did I get here and what happened to my glasses!?"  

"Boys." 

"They broke, remember?"  

He didn't remember breaking his glasses, but now that he was awake, it was amazing what he _did remember.  "You…" He was Harry, Malfoy was Malfoy, Harry and Malfoy were enemies yet, "You made me cry you bastard!" _

"Boys." Dumbledore tried to interject again but the boys were too busy fighting to be bothered by the Headmaster, so the wise old man made his exit a discreet one. 

Draco Malfoy hadn't laughed in twelve days, not since he had dragged Harry's limp body into the hospital, screaming for all he was worth for help.  It had been the most difficult thing he'd ever done, he was bleeding heavily, and Harry was so heavy – so cold, like a sandbag – he felt that any minute they would collapse and die fifteen feet from the door.  He'd surrendered himself to oblivion of unconsciousness upon the arrival of Professor Vector but not before making sure the man saw Harry.  No, Malfoy hadn't allowed himself to laugh in the day he'd been unconscious, nor in the three days that he had been recovering from his ordeal, he had not giggled in the week and a half that Harry had been on the brink of death, but now he was laughing.  Hard.  

"Potter! Do you have any idea how worried I've been?"  The rhetorical exclamation, though delivered with outrage was tempered by the hug that Harry found himself wrenched into.  

"No?" 

"I thought you were going to die!"  If Harry had cried in the forest, it was nothing to the anxiety that Malfoy felt. Suddenly he was protective of the Gryffindor, there were some things people could not go through together without forming some kind of bond.   He had been in the hospital wing for a week due to his injuries, but he refused to leave when he had healed. Scion had torn him apart and he had lost too much blood for comfort on the way back to the castle, but Madame Pomfrey had managed to put him back together.  He had a thin, tan scar than ran from the nape of his neck to the small of his back, but it was a small price to pay, a reminder of every thing that had happened. 

Dumbledore had understood: he had been indulgent, patient, and he even defended Malfoy's wishes.  The headmaster had made allowances for Malfoy because he felt partially responsible, he knew of Harry's late night trip into the forest, but he had no idea that there were still vampires in there. 

Harry allowed himself to be crushed against Malfoy, though he did not know why. "Thank you."  

"Shove it Potter." Malfoy resettled Harry in his arms, this hug was a strange thing, he hadn't been in contact with a person for this long since he was a child.  It was a bit awkward just allowing himself to sit by Harry's side in the standard single hospital-bed.  He felt Harry sigh deeply and returned the sentiment, somehow this was so contenting.  It was warm here, tangled up in this unusual moment with Potter, it was just so comfortable.  "I just… couldn't see you die." 

"No kidding! If I died, who would you irritate for a living?" Harry teased, gently elbowing him in the ribs.

"Who indeed? I'd have to resort to listening to witty comments instead of the typical 'uh, grr,' and the ever memorable, 'shut up Malfoy's." 

"You prat."

"Oh, and that too," he joked, "my life would be positively ruined." 

"Well that was obvious.  Without me you're head would be so big it would explode.  Then Filch would have to clean it up and everyone would get detention."  

The conversation was degenerating into ludicrousness, thoroughly enjoyable ludicrousness.  "What do you mean? Without me, your friends and ideals would multiply like rabbits. The world would be all Weasleys, and _then everyone would have detention. There would be no sanity of any kind left. I'm a necessary evil."_

"No. The Teletubbies are a necessary evil. You are… I don't know what you are."

"I'm perfection; never having encountered it I doubt you'd recognize it." 

"Shut up Malfoy." 

"Witty and scathing as ever Potter."   

Harry didn't respond right away, he'd fallen into deep thought having lost interest in the game. He was too tired to win it anyway.  "Why did I wake up after you?" He couldn't help but think of that, Malfoy had nearly killed himself trying to save him, despite the cloud of sensory deprivation, Harry knew that, he saw all the blood, he heard the screams.  He had felt something deeper than one of the five senses, he could feel Malfoy dying. 

"Don't you pay attention during DADA?"  He really didn't want to discuss this, he wanted to forget the whole thing. He just wanted to spend the next thirty years or so just sharing barbs with Potter and recuperating his sanity in this comfortable aftermath of chaos. He didn't want to talk about this.

Harry rolled his eyes; the last thing he wanted was Malfoy insulting his intelligence. "Not now. What's so important about DADA that made me wake up… how long was it…? After you?"

"Nine days.  When a vampire has close contact with a human, or chooses a human for a victim, spells have less of an effect on that human.  That's why Voldemort couldn't touch you, that's why my spell was sloppy, and that's why no one could heal you.  They had to call in a Muggle specialist to give you something called a blood transfission,"

"Blood transfusion." Harry corrected automatically. 

"Then you slipped into a komba –"

"Coma."

"Because he got so much of your blood and you hit your head.  We couldn't revive you because of the vampire protective transfer thing so we had to wait it out the Muggle way. Poor bastards, how do they survive?"

Harry felt terrible, he didn't want to imagine waiting for someone to wake up from a coma, he didn't want to imagine what his friends were thinking… but where were his friends? He shrugged off the unsettling question, they were probably in class.  "They get along. What about you though? Scion used spells on you too."

"Scion?"

"The vampire. His name was Scion, I think he told me in a dream. Answer the question." 

"No close physical contact.  He didn't ever touch me, and he didn't drink my blood.  I was easier to heal once I got here." 

The Gryffindor shuddered; he didn't want to think about it.  There was a certain amount of terror that had been transferred through the vampires touch, knowing that Scion was in control of everything.  He had felt so violated, like has mind had been invaded.  He just couldn't stand to think about it. 

"I'm sorry." Malfoy said abruptly, he had felt Harry tremble, it wasn't something he liked.  

"What?" What? 

"I shouldn't have made you go. I shouldn't have made you go to Hogsmeade, then you wouldn't have been attacked, you would have been able to resist him.  Dumbledore told me that if you had been a bit healthier then…." 

"Shut up." Harry was touched, Malfoy actually lost his self-control, those last few words had nearly been sobs. "There are lots of things that you don't understand.  You were no more the cause than Bram Stoker was, so you can stop feeling guilty right now."

"But…" 

"Not your fault." He said firmly, spinning around to look him in the eye. "Frankly I would have preferred it if you had run away."

"What?" What?

"I couldn't… I" he took a deep breath, "I didn't want to watch another person die.  It wasn't Voldemort but it was the same thing, you were dying for helpless Harry Potter.  I wanted you to _run; I tried to tell you to run. You should have gotten the hell out of there and none of that would have happened!" He _hated _feeling that helpless, just thinking about it made him shudder, just to prove that he could._

"What." It wasn't a question, it was an incredulous croak.  "Not a chance!  Do you have any idea what they would have done to me if I'd said 'Harry's been made a vampire, but don't worry, the Dark Lord's dead.' I would have been eaten alive!"

"Do you have any idea of what it did to me to see you like that?!  I had to watch you die and I was helpless.  It was like being ripped apart from the inside out. I _was_ eaten alive!" 

That was true enough, after all, vampires… it wasn't the time to be thinking about that.  "I'm not dead Potter." Malfoy latched on to him again, pulling him in close as to reassure himself of Harry's solidity.  He had a lot of time to think while Harry had been comatose, there were so many times when it seemed like he wasn't there at all, like his soul was gone, it was terrifying. He'd asked himself a lot of questions and had come to some very interesting conclusions in the twelve days that he'd been awake.  

Malfoy had seen teachers come and go, people died, and everything was different now that the threat of Voldemort was gone. Everything had changed.  He had led Dumbledore to the clearing, showed them the scorch mark that used to be Scion, showed them Voldemort's gelatinous remains, watched them exclaim over the ruined trees and the splotches of blood that had seeped into the earth, and frozen into crystals like snow.  He found his wand, a wand he'd owned since his first meeting with Potter, it was destroyed.  The wood was cracked into splinters, held in place by the melted platinum, even the dragon heartstring had burnt out of the center.  Everything he'd ever known was gone. His whole way of life, his wand, the ultimate symbol of that life, everything had been shattered.  Everything but Harry.  He needed Harry right now, needed the fleeting stability that he could provide. "I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry! You almost died and I'm sorry. But we're both okay and my god I'm sorry!" He exploded in a panic, it would have been terrible if one of them had died, he realized that now. 

Harry decided that he had a headache, there were some things that he could handle and some things he couldn't.  Draco Malfoy apologizing to him for something that most definitely was not his fault did not list among the things that Harry could handle. In fact, it placed high on the list of what he couldn't. "If you say that one more time I swear by Merlin…"  

"What Potter? Going to hex me?" 

"Yes.  I will curse you until… what day is it?"

"It's a Friday."

"I will curse you to next Thursday!"

"You could try Potter," he said chuckling. 

Harry laughed, settling more comfortably into Malfoy's arms. "We're always fighting." He said docilely, having run out of steam.  The Gryffindor was in a strange state, somehow managing to think without thought. Perhaps it was the result of many long hours of sleep, or perhaps it was because the dangers in his life had passed, or maybe he was just happy, but it granted him a rare and precious moment of peace.  "Why do I trust you?"

"Because I saved your life."

"Why did you save my life?" 

He didn't know, he really didn't know, but he was glad he did. "Because I trust you."

"Why do you trust me?" 

Malfoy laughed, "Because you trust me."  

Harry shoved himself away and looked Malfoy in the eye, pouting in confusion.  He didn't like not knowing where he stood.  Especially not in the eyes of an enemy.  But wasn't the word enemy moot?  Wasn't everyone that had threatened the peace dead or behind the infamous, if only symbolic, bars of Azkaban?  Wasn't Voldemort's rebellion against Muggles over? Did surnames and houses amount to anything anymore, the last heir of Slytherin had finally died, and in a strange way, so too had the prophecy been fulfilled. Professor Sibyl Trelawney had never said that Harry had to kill Voldemort, she said that one of them had to die, or neither could really live. Maybe it was time for Harry to start living. Every convention that Harry had ever adopted had been shattered in one, painful night. Every public and political aspect of Harry's life had ended in secrecy. "There are so many things…" What was he going to do with his life?

"Like what Potter?" 

Malfoy's sarcastic drawl was back, so Harry responded in kind, "My first name for one." Draco rolled his eyes expressively as Harry dropped his offense and said, "But there's so much more." 

"Such as?"

"Such as why you always give me that blank look like I'm an idiot when I say something meaningful!"  Malfoy's 'blank look' immediately changed into one of surprise, "Or how you never smile but the left side of your mouth twitches and your right eyebrow rises before you laugh!"  

Malfoy's right eyebrow went soaring as the left side of his mouth smirked.  He had never realized those things about himself, "So?"

"How do I know that? Everything I've ever known about you is pointless, and now… I don't even know your middle name!"

"Augustus." 

Harry ignored the thousands of jabs that could have been made and opted for rolling his eyes and gesturing wildly, though the effort tired him out. "That's not the point! I don't know anything anymore, all I know is that I don't know what I used to know and I don't like it! Everything I did know is irrelevant and I don't know what I want to know now! Don't you see how frustrating this is? As for you… what are you? Why did you help me at all!? What's going to happen now, nothing can just be like it was before! My head is spinning and –."

There were some things about Harry that Draco Malfoy found utterly irritating, and others that he found absolutely adorable.  This was a time when Harry was both of those things. It was true, everything had changed, Voldemort was dead, and Harry's oh-so-loyal friends hadn't been to see him, whether out of fear or because they were busy celebrating he didn't want to speculate, but Harry was being ridiculous!  The boy was viewing this as the end of the world; he wasn't looking at it like it was! He now had the opportunity to escape the constant attention that he so obviously deplored, now he could just… disappear from public speculation.  So what if he was a little lost at the moment, he could take the rest of his threat-free life to find himself.  

But Malfoy was being hypocritical; Malfoy had had time to reevaluate the situation.  He had the opportunity to sort through his feelings about the whole situation; everything would seem so bland from now on. His parents were in Azkaban, his friends, friends of convenience, weren't worth his time, and school was almost over.  He didn't have anything left, but neither did Harry, and suddenly, he realized that he did have something. Someone.  He had Harry, to bait for the rest of his irritating, adorable little life.    

Malfoy leaned forward abruptly and smiled with the left side of his mouth, before gently clamping it over Harry's. "Shut it Potter."

Harry shut it, and he wasn't dizzy anymore. 

**Post Author's Notes: 4148 words~! **Do you know… I do believe that was the kiss.  Pathetic wasn't it, nothing special but I do say, I'm so happy there wasn't any of the 'slowly moving closer, both boys blushed' thing. I am as abrupt as life.  I'll write a lemon if any body wants one (I'm much better than at sex than romance… I know, that sounded bad) and email it to you… I can't post it on FF.net (it'll be that…. Good? Bad…? …Yeah) but I feel the need to compensate for my sap deficiencies. Heh, with the author's notes I beat my former word quota.  Be warned, uselessness ahead. 

I'm thinking of a sequel already, this is my first ever serial, and as such, I think I've done quite well.  1 review per chapter and I'm happy.  Anyway, because of this, I think I have an idea, horror/romance again, same sort of situation, only… not.  Anyway, tell me what you think and don't forget to ask for lemon.  

I'm still advertising for my friend, TenshiOnna, please (if you want to see a sequel this is a rule) go review Ronald Weasley's Horror.  It's cute it really is and she's a good writer, it shouldn't take you more than 5 minutes.  Weasley Wonders and KittenBabyGirl, I love you both, you are exempt from this rule because you've already done it! My heartfelt thanks, you have no idea.  ::gushes on for five minutes and joins TenshiOnna in the "review dance"::

**A bit of end-of-story useless information:**

I am endlessly amused by this.  This semester, (fall 2003) I've been taking a western Civilizations class at the local community college.  While in this class, having been required to study, I've realized quite a few things pertaining to names in Harry Potter.  

**Draco****:** Draco the Snake of Athens tried to pull Athens out of an economic decline but failed. Not much is known (by me) about how or why.  The funny thing is, Draco the Snake, Draco the Slytherin… yeah.  He's not just a crappy pseudo dragon in a Sean Connery movie ^_~.

**Lucius****:  **Lucius Junius Brutus and Lucius Cornelius Sulla were both big political and historical figures, Sulla I believe, did quite a stint as Emperor.  He was a bit of a bastard by the way.  Lucius Malfoy is a big political figure, he's a bastard… see the connection?

**Severus****:** Septimius Severus was also an Emperor, he had two sons that went against his word (one killed the other).  Severus. You can guess.

**Remus****:** Speaking of two sons… Remus as in Remus and Romulus, the sons of Mars and founders of Rome.  Romulus (I have a hermit crab named Romulus… kawaii little Rommies) killed the gentle Remus for the throne.  Death of brothers etc.  Remus Lupin, the werewolf and I'm not going into the Lupin connotations from anime, watched his 'brothers' the marauders, die.  Irony again, but funny.

**Minerva:** Minerva was the Roman version of the Greek Goddess Athena, she was wise, controlling, and her familiar was an owl.  Minerva McGonagall, wise, controlling… owls… yeah it's a wizarding thing.  Besides, it's Minerva that sends the students their Hogwarts owls.  That cracks me up.  

**Krum:** Krum was a Bulgarian warlord that killed Nicephorus.  He later used Nicephorus' skull as a goblet.  Viktor Krum is a Bulgarian quidditch player with a crush on Hermione.  

**Agrippa:** In 33 bc, Augustus's general Agrippa helped improve the sewer systems in Rome.  There was also a bit about public baths, but it was only in passing.  Agrippa was the first Chocolate Frog's card that Ron ever got, when Ron and Harry met, Ron gave Harry the Agrippa card… yeah, I need a life.  

Because of this historical trend, Scion was going to be Scipio (a general of war responsible for a few battles of Carthage) but I decided it was too much to type. Heh. 

Coincidences? I think not! Of course, Gregory (Goyle) is in history too having been a series of Popes and bishops, but hey, every name has a meaning etc.  I just thought it was funny. If you know any other ones, let me know! 

Oh! I saw this too though it has nothing to do with history. There's a computer/technology company called Sirius, and their logo is a big black dog.  *titters* 

Don't even get me started on the sneezing company (otherwise known as Lily, Lavender, Petunia and Pansy. The L's the P's and they all make me sneeze).


	11. Author's Note and Thanks

**Author's note: **

            Okay, I'm sorry, this isn't the eleventh chapter, it's only an A/N.  The eleventh chapter can be found at adultfanfiction.net, there is a reason for that ladies and gents, it's smut.  Actually, I thought it was fine ending at chapter ten, but hey, whatever floats your boat. Of course, it can be found under _In Darkness Found, Light Revealed _by RayneJelly (no hyphen and the URL I've tried to give you isn't working). So, read it (and review it) if you're into that and you want to.  

            Another thing, I am going to write a sequel, or I'll continue my sequel if you people like it. It's called _Shadow and Fear, _again with the magical creature interference, again with Harry and Draco, and… yeah. It's a sequel.  It should be worthwhile though, a little easier on me, more mature and that. 

NOW! My favorite part…::drum roll please::

**Review Responses! **

**Zeynel****: **Heh, wouldn't you know it, but I wasn't really planning on a 'reaction' chapter. I wanted to start and end it relatively quickly (actually, if not for my obscene pleasure with the first few paragraphs of the first chapter, I wouldn't have posted at all), but now I'm writing a sequel and you'll get residual effects. As for the sorrow of Scion, well, it sucks to be him. He and Voldemort will get references, because without a villain and without a dark history, where's the story right?  I hope you keep reading, I really do. Thanks for the review. ^_~.

**Emeline****: **Aw, thanks. I adorable is good, gentle is good, snuggly is good. Lol, no, I never watched Care Bears, That's my story and I'm stickin' to it. ^_^.  Go read the lemon, after all, citrus is very effective in fighting sap.

**Weasley**** Wonders: **You were my first reviewer and you have reviewed every chapter since. I commend your patience and praise you on high. Thank you so, SO SO much! 

**Michelle: **I have taken your advice to heart. ^_^ go tell me what you think of it.

**Autumsun****: **Aw, thank you. As you know, I've sent you the link, so you're probably not reading this, but that's okay, I'm writing it because I want to. Thank you so much.  

**Katrina: **I think I knew a lot of that. I just put the name thing together to keep myself from dying of boredom during a history test, I think Harry means bravery. Actually, babynames.com (where I got all my names before I got creative) will tell you the meaning of just about anything.  I'm a wealthy madwoman according to my name. lol. Anyway, sorry for the abrupt death of the villain, I think I did that on purpose. I didn't want them to be able to dwell, I wanted to throw Harry and Draco in a completely new situation without any preconceptions about the world, ridding myself of Scion and Voldemort did that. Anyway, thanks for the review, I loved it.

**Silvrei****: **::grins:: firstly, I am so happy you liked my abrupt kiss scene. I've always been under the impression that people like to focus on the "Slowly coming together in perfect harmony" thing, and first kisses aren't like that. Of course, I've never been kissed, but I've seen enough to know that they can be sloppy and abrupt.  Next! Yeah, the lemon is going to be set/is set in the hospital wing before the outside world can influence them. That's the only way I could pull it off. Heh, me and my plot devices.  And, correct again, I left the ending pretty much open so that there's room for thought growth and speculation… I just hope it won't turn green and purple like mold. With mold there is room for thought growth and speculation… lol.  Anyway, thank you more than anything for reviewing.  


End file.

Harry Potter, Horror, Romance