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Natural Magic 11

SCENE 11

Harry dressed quickly, trying not to think of all the clothing around him and if they had belonged to kids just like him or if they had been bought and thrown there for kids just like him. He found Draco’s clothes balled together, shoes tossed against the wall. Some blood had gotten on them but Harry figured it was still better to wear your own clothes than someone else’s—especially these weird, sad clothes. Harry carefully dressed the sleeping Draco, trying not to wake him up just in case the magic only worked when Draco was asleep, and he might wake up full of weird lust.

Getting Draco out the bedroom was easy enough, but the living room was difficult, the piles of newspapers harder to navigate around. Harry thought of turning the light on but was afraid someone from outside might see and know that they were escaping. He thought briefly of looking through the fridge, maybe finding any money stashed in the apartment so that they wouldn’t be without resources. He wouldn’t feel bad steeling from these terrible people. But he didn’t want to linger any longer than they had to for fear of tempting fate.

Harry was carrying Draco to the outer door, arms under the fair boy’s armpits as he dragged him, when the door swung wide open and jolting him still. It was the straggly red haired man, filling the door with his large form. He didn’t say a word, face half in shadow while he just stood there. There was something off about the man and Harry glared, trying to figure out his options.

He tightened his arms around Draco, deciding he could give this man a chance seeing he hadn’t seemed interested in hurting Draco the way the sandy haired man had. “If you walk away now, I won’t kill you,” Harry said blandly, letting the darkness fill inside him.

The man didn’t say anything and Harry noticed that he wasn’t breathing properly and blood was dripping wet down the man’s face and neck. Harry did not want to drop Draco but he had a feeling whatever was happening with the man was going to need two hands to deal with. Harry was just starting to lower Draco to the ground, eyes fixed on the doorway, when the large man lurched forward, walking in halting jerks into the room.

Quickly backing up, Harry froze again as he caught sight of another figure following the man in. Swallowing, Harry stood taller, pulling Draco closer to his chest. The stranger was dressed all in black, tall and fit, a cloak swirling around his shoulders—Completely unremarkable in many ways, except somehow these clothes were also extremely fine and wealthy, the lines perfect, his black boots glowing in the dim light. His face was aristocratic, blue eyes sharp, long blond hair the color of Draco’s as was many more of his features, which was the only reason why Harry was not immediately killing the clearly dangerous wizard before him.

Draco’s father was powerful and Harry felt it as near a threat as he had when seeing the not so powerful sandy haired man touching Draco. But that power was not being directed at Harry, instead on the puppet of a man the straggly haired man had become, body too tight, beady eyes vacant and blood gushing down his face. The blond man shut the door behind him, walking with cat like grace as he moved around his prey and caught sight of Harry and Draco.

Revealing no emotion except a twitch to his lips to have found his son passed out in the arms of another boy in an apartment full of piles and dirt, Lucius glanced to the door where artificial light was streaming out. He strode silently across the room, Harry’s heart pounding once he realized that Draco’s father would see what he had done.

Harry would never be allowed to see Draco again. Hell, he might go to jail. Unless he left now before anyone knew who he was. Yeah, Draco might know that he was Harry Potter, but maybe the boy wouldn’t tell since he had save him and all. Hands shaking, Harry lowered Draco carefully to the floor.

“I gotta go, Draco. Your dad’s going to take care of you now. I… I hope you feel better… It was really nice to meet you.” Catching a final look at Draco’s peaceful, sleeping face, Harry stood and made his way to the door. He paused, staring at the straggly haired man blocking the way. He was breathing strangely, standing sideways as if he was going to fall over at any moment. Harry edged carefully around him, feet brushing against a pile of newspapers and accidentally knocking them over. Swearing quietly, he quickly reached for the door.

The door wouldn’t open no matter how hard Harry pulled or fiddled with the lock. He whirled, Draco’s father stepping out from the other room and fixing eyes on him. The blond was very much a predator but without the sick twistedness of the sandy haired man. Regarding him silently for a long moment, the blond man looked away, moving to Draco and crouching.

“What happened here?”

Harry jumped, not expecting the man to speak. He edged to the side so he could see them better. Together there was no question if the man was Draco’s father. Harry did not answer right away, not certain how much he should reveal. He had killed someone. At the time it had seemed very much like the right thing to do, so much so that he had been considering killing the straggly haired man as well just to be safe. But he was not certain that this man here would understand that—He was not certain anyone should understand such messed up logic.

“One of these men hit me over the head and brought us here,” Harry said, carefully choosing his words. “I woke up and that one wasn’t here anymore. And the other one was… in the room there… with Draco.” Maybe he would assume the man was already dead? No one would normally think a kid could kill a grown man.

Lucius looked up, eyes piercing into his. Harry had a feeling very little got past this man. “Why is my son asleep? He is not waking.”

Biting his lip, Harry shifted from one foot to the other. “You, um, you shouldn’t wake him. The man did something to him, and… well… I couldn’t fix it.”

Face set in a grim frown, Lucius stood, holding his hand out for Harry to come closer. Glancing up at the still unmoving straggly haired man, Harry walked around him, keeping a good five feet between himself and Draco’s father.

“What’s your name?” Draco’s father asked, his voice a low purr as his eyes accessed him warily.

Harry considered lying but figured Draco would likely tell his father his first name at the least. “It’s Harry.” He narrowed his eyes, watching as the man stilled and glanced to where his hair hid his scar. Apparently Harry was a very rare name among wizards if everyone immediately assumed he was Harry Potter.

“Harry, I need you to understand that I am not going to hurt you,” the man said evenly, his eyes never leaving his. “I am here for my son and have no interest in anything else. You are not in trouble. Nothing you say is going to get you in trouble. I do not care about how things happened but I do need to know what happened. I need to… I need to know how to help Draco. I can’t do that if I don’t know what happened here.”

Harry nodded slowly, understanding that as a father this man would want to help his son—Because even though he was a powerful man, he was still a good father. Harry was glad Draco had a good dad. “I don’t know everything. The other one hit me off the back of the head and I was knocked out.”

“But then you woke up,” Lucius pressed, his voice soothing.

“Yes. I woke up. And Draco was… was calling for help.”

“Did you help him? Did you try to go get help?” Lucius asked when Harry trailed off.

Biting his lip, Harry nodded. “I… I killed the man hurting Draco.”

Something shifted in the man before him, something that set Harry on edge, drawing his eye to the regal face and watching carefully to see if the blond was going to attack. But then the man calmed, jaw loosening, and nodded at Harry to continue. “What happened after the man was dead?”

This was somehow more difficult to speak, Harry’s hand tangling in his hair as he glanced down at Draco’s sleeping face. “He was… He said the man cursed him. That it made him… like…”

“The man had touched my son?” Lucius interrupted, his face completely blank of emotion but Harry sensed the anger frothing beneath.

“Yes… I don’t know how much. He had… taken Draco’s clothes. When I came in he had been… his fingers had been… inside him…”

Lucius held his hand up, his eyes closing a moment. “This is when you killed him. How did you kill him, Harry?”

Harry shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know… sometimes I want things… things bigger than I ever usually want… Then the darkness comes, and it… it gives me what I want.”

“Do you want things a lot?” Lucius asked, and Harry wondered if he wanted to know if he had killed a lot of people.

“This was the first time I, uh, wanted that,” Harry said after a moment. “There have been other things, much smaller things… but never that.”

Nodding in understanding, Lucius pinched the bridge of his nose, releasing a slow breath. “And what happened after the man was dead?”

Harry sighed, wishing it had not come back to this again. “Draco was very—Damn it. The man did something to him. It made Draco want to… to touch me. And… and be touched back…” Harry pulled at his hair again, not meeting the man’s eye.

“Alright, but he is asleep now,” Lucius said after a moment, his voice strangely low.

Harry nodded quickly, glancing back at the man. “I didn’t want him to be like that anymore. That’s not how—Draco’s not like that. He’s a good kid, so I let the darkness come and fix it. It, um, it put him to sleep.”

Lucius took a step towards him and Harry instinctively stepped back. Staring at the flinching boy, Lucius instead held his hand out again. “Harry, I need you to wake him up. You are very powerful. I don’t think you understand just how powerful. I cannot wake Draco up.”

Harry bit his lip again, glancing down at Draco. “But… but he’ll be… He won’t be himself,” he whispered anxiously. “I don’t know how to fix him.”

“That’s alright, Harry. I know how to break curses. It takes a more complicated kind of magic that you won’t know how to do until you’re older. If you wake Draco up, I’ll be able to fix him eventually.”

Swallowing, Harry hesitantly nodded. Draco’s father would know more about these things, certainly more than he did. He just didn’t want Draco to be scared, and so… feeling so out of control like he had when Harry had put him to sleep.

Harry slowly walked up to where Draco was lying, edging around Lucius and another pile of newspapers. He crouched over Draco, gently touching the boy’s silky hair. Staring down, he let the darkness fill him again, empty and heavy inside. “Draco, I’m going to wake you up now. Don’t… Try not to be afraid.” Lashes lowering, he leaned in, listening to Draco breathe evenly. Carefully he brushed his lips to the boy’s, pulling away when Draco’s breath changed.

Gray eyes regarded him intently and Harry wondered for a moment if the boy was himself. But then Draco gave a soft gasp and then a moan, his face flushing quickly. Harry slipped back when the boy’s hands reached for him, standing and looking at Draco’s father helplessly. “He, uh, he can’t help himself. Don’t think poorly of him for…” Draco gave another needy moan and Harry looked away.

“I understand,” Lucius said tightly, his eyes glued on his gasping son. Draco heard him, eyes widening as he looked up to find his father there.

“Father… I got lost…”

“It’s alright, Draco. Your mother is fine, and I’ve come to bring you home,” he said swiftly, kneeling down and gently pinning the hands that had inadvertently reached for him. “Draco, I’m going to help you sleep. Until the spell can be removed, I’m going to have you sleep.”

Draco nodded, body rocking on the floor. “Okay… oh, oh no…” He closed his eyes, caught hands tightening into fists. “Feel so hot…”

“Hush, it’s time to sleep.” One handed, Lucius reached for his pocket while holding Draco still, using his wand to spell the boy to sleep. Draco gave a soft murmur and then relaxed, his body losing the heated tension of earlier.

Harry gave a quiet sigh of relief when Draco was asleep again. The boy seemed almost tormented, the terrible spell cast on him turning him into some sort of sex slave puppet. It wasn’t right. Draco was too sweet and it wasn’t right.

“Harry, would you mind sitting with Draco while I clean up?” Lucius asked, standing again. Harry did not want to stay, afraid that Draco’s father was still going to bring him to the police. But the door was locked and he really didn’t have much of a choice. Unless he was going to kill the man and that seemed to be very wrong since he was Draco’s dad.

Harry sat, eyes fixed on Draco’s sleeping face while Lucius left to disappear into the other room. It was a long time, Lucius returning only to have the red straggly haired man to jerk and spasm behind into the room with Draco’s father again. The door was shut, and everything became very silent and still, all light now gone from the room except for the digital clock on the mantel.

Harry could feel the power in the other room. It was very much the darkness, bringing fire that burned so hot even bone could not survive. Harry reached towards it, feeling it against his awakening senses, trying to remember exactly how it felt in case he ever needed to dispose of a body in the future. The power died down and he relaxed again, staring at Draco in the dark while waiting for his father to finish.

Lucius slowly opened the door, stepped out into the room and shutting the door behind him. His wand glowing light, he made his way to where Harry sat and Draco slept.

“Your family must be missing you, Harry.”

Harry shrugged silently, fingers still combing Draco’s hair.

“Do they live near by? Maybe by Diagon Alley?”

Harry shook his head, finally raising his eyes to the man. “You’re not going to tell, right? That’s why you…” He tilted his head towards the room Lucius had left.

“I’m not going to tell. Are you going to tell?” Lucius asked, already fairly certain of the answer.

“Hell, no. My Aunt and Uncle wouldn’t ever let me in the door again. They can’t stand that I’m strange.” He sighed, pushing himself up to his feet. “I should be going, Sir. I’m glad—I’m glad he has a good dad like you.”

Lucius watched him walk to the door, Harry’s hand on the handle that refused still to open. “Could you just…?” He asked, huffing in annoyance.

“Harry, what is your last name?”

Rolling his eyes, Harry moved his hair so the man could see his forehead and let him leave already. But Lucius still did not open the door, instead walking forward and bending down so he could see his scar clearly.

“Your family, they don’t practice magic, do they?” Lucius asked, touching Harry’s scar carefully. “Do they know what you are?”

Harry didn’t move, not used to being touched. He stared at the man that looked so much like Draco but very much not the same. He looked more like if Draco were to grow up into a dangerous beast instead of the sweet boy he was. But Lucius didn’t hurt Harry the way Dudley did when he touched him or Vernon for that matter. No, Draco’s father was almost acting like Harry was a skittish cat, gently trying to pet him calm. And for some reason it was working.

“Harry, someone as special as you needs to be around people that understand him. Otherwise you could want something that could hurt others. Not even on purpose like tonight. Because tonight was on purpose.”

“Yes,” Harry agreed quietly, eyes trapped in the icy blue gaze before him. “I wanted to save Draco. And… I wanted to kill that man.”

“I am very glad that you wanted that, Harry. Because I wanted that too, and I was not here to do it.” Lucius let his fingers curl through Harry’s messy locks, head tilted appraisingly. “Can you see how useful that is? Having someone around that could protect Draco while I’m not home? Someone who would like to play with him. Keep him from being so lonely.”

Harry’s eyelids drooped but there was no magic trying to control him. Lucius felt safe—Strong, and powerful, and safe, and it made him feel calm. This man was not afraid of him. He had seen Harry do something terrible, and he had then done something just as terrible. That was why Draco wasn’t afraid of Harry either. Because he had a father just like him.

“I like Draco, a lot,” Harry admitted.

“I can tell. I can also tell that he likes you, too… Maybe even more…” Lucius mused, thumb moving over Harry’s scar again. “And we like to give Draco the things he likes… Right?”

“Right,” Harry echoed with a small smile.

Sating The Dementor’s Kiss 11

SCENE 11

“What? No, he’s fine… I don’t know. Video games, mostly…” Harry pulled the receiver away from his ear while trying to slip his sneaker on properly. “Stop yelling at me. Video games are a perfectly good way to pass time at any age—Shit, Draco, I have to get the door… No, for pizza.” Harry sighed, again pulling the phone away from his ear to dull the squawking of his friend. “I understand that you don’t think muggle junkfood is a good idea. And as you are well aware, I don’t care what you think. I’ll talk to you later. Yup, yup, up yours too, mate.” Harry hung up with a sigh, pushing his foot down until his sneaker finally crammed home.

He left the kitchen, finding Sirius waiting in the living room doorway, staring at the front door down the hall. “You can get the door if you want, Sirius. You’re not hiding here, and no one is trying to come after you.” Sirius didn’t say anything, just looking at him oddly and then at the door again. Harry sighed, walking to the door, feeling the man following slowly behind him.

Harry opened the door, smiling welcomingly. “Hey man, thanks for driving out here. I know its a ways off.” Harry lived in the middle of nowhere like most wizards and witches but that hadn’t stopped him from making sure he got muggle food delivered.

“Never a problem. You’re the best tipper I got.” Jamal smiled brightly, unwrapping the padded cover that held the first of Harry’s pizza boxes. “You throwing a party or something?”

“Nope, just wanted to try it all. Here, let me help you carry it from the car.” Harry stepped out, the late afternoon sun throwing long shadows over his hedges and expansive lawn. He had a landscaping company come by every other week to keep things tidy. He might be a slob, but he didn’t want his parents’ house to look like shit. Glancing into the backseat of the little delivery car, Harry wondered briefly if he had gone overboard, then brushed the thought away.

Mr. Black hadn’t had pizza in forever, and when he had asked Harry what kind of toppings they had, the man unable to remember, Harry decided to just get them all. It was his favorite pizza place with fresh ingredients and unique combinations. He had ordered all twenty-five different specialty pizzas they offered and figured whatever they didn’t eat they could eat tomorrow or the day after. Harry loved day old, cold pizza just as much as still warm, gooey pizza.

Hands full, Harry led Jamal into the hallway, Sirius edging away from the stranger and glaring suspiciously at him. Harry just raised an eyebrow at him, tilting his head for the man to follow. Jamal was his regular delivery guy, the only one willing to put his car through the extra millage to get to his house. He was a very friendly sort, full of quick smiles and stoner jokes and Harry did not want his new house guest upsetting him.

“Alright, I do believe that’s all of it, Harry. Twenty-five pizzas, two liters of soda; orange and root beer, and one order of garlic sticks and one of cinnamon sticks… with extra dipping sauce.” Jamal checked through the list while counting off boxes. He then handed Harry the bill, Harry exchanging with cash. “Shit, man, you’re going to be putting me through a doctorate if you’re not careful,” he said cheerfully, tucking the money away.

Harry just smiled, having heard that particular one before. “Hungry, Jamal? There’s no way we’re going to eat all of this.”

Jamal tilted his head back and forth, weighing propriety verse the long, hungry drive back. “I could steal a slice of the bourbon chicken,” he said eventually, taking a seat at the kitchen table when Harry offered it.

“Sirius, come on, stop hovering in the doorway,” Harry chided, holding a box of pizza out towards the man. “Where do you want to start? Roasted veggies in marinara, or maybe garlic potatoes with white sauce?”

“Oh, you should definitely try the potato if you haven’t yet,” Jamal said brightly, digging out the bourbon chicken and having a slice. “It’s one of our most popular pies.”

Staring warily at the young man, Sirius sized Jamal up. He couldn’t be much older than the weird kid, hardly anything much to look at. Maybe he was just really hung…? Sirius wasn’t sure, but he really didn’t like how Harry had just invited him in the house like that, feeding him and all. Course, Sirius had yet to see any pizza eaten in any of those movies Harry had stashed away, but then again, no one ever ordered more than one pizza, and Harry had paid the guy presumably a lot. Did you pay for the sex or for pizza…?

The phone rang, Sirius jumping from the unfamiliar sound. Harry slipped by him, pulling it off the hook and stepping outside the kitchen doorway. “Seriously, are you calling just to yell at me right now, Malfoy?”

Sirius edged further into the kitchen, pretending to look at the array of delicious smelling boxes and not the confusing delivery man. What the hell did Harry see in him? Pudgy, short, smiling… The brat could do better. Sirius growled, grabbing the nearest box and opening it.

“So how do you know Harry?” Jamal asked, eying the man curiously. He had only seen a few people at Harry’s, most of them characters. The one he was yelling on the phone with was about as yuppie, blue-blood as you could get.

“I’m his godfather,” Sirius growled, fairly certain it was the truth after he had said it. Annoyed, he tore into a slice of fresh mozzarella and spinach, only to freeze, eyes closing from the intense, amazing flavor hitting his senses.

“It’s good, huh?” Jamal said brightly, completely oblivious to the sudden glare sent his way.

“You’re pissing me off—Unless you want to come down here and cook us a fucking meal… No, no, of course you’re not going to do that, you arrogant… Right, right, I’m hanging up now… Son of a—” Harry returned to the kitchen and slammed the phone down. “My god, that boy nags,” he muttered, moving around Sirius to grab a slice of pizza. He paused, catching how Sirius was blatantly glaring at poor Jamal. “What are you guys talking about?”

Jamal stood, folding his slice of pizza in half. “Just meeting your godfather. I gotta get going. Thanks for the slice, Harry.” He held his non-pizza holding hand out, reaching for Sirius’s. “Nice to meet you, Sir.” Sirius just stared at his hand, making no move to shake it.

“Excuse him,” Harry said with a sigh. “Sirius hasn’t been around people for a long time.”

“Oh, like a mountain man,” Jamal said, not looking at all upset that Sirius was still glaring at him. Harry, on the other hand, was starting to get annoyed.

“Yeah, just like that,” Harry said, slapping Jamal on the back and leading him towards the front door. He glanced over his shoulder at Sirius, returning the glare sent their way. “Thanks for the pizza, man.”

“As always.” Harry waited till the man was in his car before shutting the door. Turning, he found Sirius standing in the hall.

“What? What’s your problem, Black?” Harry asked, striding down the hall and glaring up at the man. “Jamal is a very nice guy who drives over forty-five minutes to deliver me food. Believe me, it is really hard to find restaurants that deliver all the way up here.”

Sirius didn’t say anything, just stepped into the kitchen and started flipping open pizza boxes. Harry narrowed his eyes, debating if he really wanted to argue with the man. He hadn’t actually heard Sirius say anything to the delivery boy, and Jamal had seemed perfectly fine on leaving. It was actually odd to know Sirius had told him he was his godfather. Harry hadn’t thought much of it, having tried to separate from that fact when learning that Black had betrayed his parents. But that wasn’t true, and now Harry had a godfather. A godfather that was glaring at his only pizza delivery man.

Maybe Sirius was just feeling territorial of the house, not wanting people coming in. Harry decided to let it go for now, but would make a point to watch Sirius like a hawk when anyone was in the house.

“How’d you do on that game?” Harry asked, watching with interest as Sirius took two different types of pizza and smooshed them together like a sandwich, then took a bite out of it. The man just could not eat properly.

Sirius shrugged, throwing himself in a chair, legs wide as he lounged carelessly. “Wasn’t as fun alone.”

“Hmm… yeah, I guess not.” Staring at the pizza, Harry decided to try the sandwich move, throwing potato and barbecue chicken together. It was definitely a win. “Sweet,” he chirped, tearing off a bite and chewing as he got them some glasses and picked the soda off the ground. “So, we’re probably going to have to eat and hide the rest of this before 6 p.m. Which is when Draco gets out of work, and is going to come down here and throw a tantrum about me feeding you junk food. If you could not mention the throwing up of the other day, I would really appreciate it. You do not want to encourage his nagging.”

Sirius huffed, crushing pizza boxes down as he leaned on the table with his elbows and finished chewing. “Your boyfriend?”

Harry blinked, nearly spilling the soda he was pouring. “Fuck, no. Draco is a very dear friend, I love him to death, and I would likely kill him if we ever spent more than an hour together. And if I didn’t kill him, he’d kill me. When you meet him, you’ll see. He’s way too spic and span for my taste. Prat wastes half his day in the mirror.” Harry held up the soda, Sirius nodding towards the root beer.

Sirius again didn’t say anything, just gulping down the drink as it was handed to him. Harry had never felt talkative before, but next to this man he was a goddamn chatterbox. He glanced over his glass, watching Sirius discreetly. He was still favoring his side, hunched slightly. Not to mention, the man’s hair was a tangle, probably not brushed since the courthouse, and he was getting very bristly jawed. As nice a look as it was, Harry figured it couldn’t go on too long. Hell, he was still in the same clothes.

“Your stuff is going to be delivered to the house hopefully within the week, but until then I think we’re going to have to get you some things before then,” Harry said when the man looked his way again. “Off the top of my head, I’m going to say brush, toothbrush, razor, couple changes of clothes… Was there soap in your bathroom? If you can think of anything, I’ll write a list and go shopping this evening.”

Looking at Harry a long moment, Sirius said gruffly, “Flea shampoo.”

Gaping, Harry put his pizza down and wiped his hands on his jeans. He stepped up behind the man, Sirius bristling slightly when Harry carefully examined his locks. “You sure? I don’t see any…”

“I’m sure,” Sirius muttered, ducking his head down.

“Well, I’ll add it to the list,” Harry said, absentmindedly combing the man’s ponytail into some sort of order. “How’s your side feel? Anymore blood?”

Glancing back his way, Sirius sighed and lifted his shirt, leaning to the side and revealing the stitched up wound. It looked fine enough, no red around the edges or anything. “I’ll have to take those stitches out tomorrow or they’re not going to want to come up after that. You don’t happen to remember yet how you got hurt, do you?”

“I remember,” Sirius said flatly, stuffing another bite of pizza in his mouth right afterwards. Harry waited patiently, rolling his eyes when Sirius glared again at him.

“Well? What happened?”

“Got stabbed.”

Harry sighed, about ready to throttle the man. “Who stabbed you?” He pressed, trying to keep the frustration from his voice.

Sirius shrugged, looking for all the world like he was going to take another bite of pizza and refuse to answer. He paused, instead replying, “Red bearded fellow. Had glasses.”

Harry started, eyes widening as he recalled the people in the courtroom the other day. “You mean the auror?”

“Maybe… I didn’t really ask him his life story.” Sirius bit into his pizza, done with the conversation. Frowning, Harry sat in a chair, glaring at the pizza that suddenly did not seem so appetizing.

“When? When did he stab you?” Harry asked, knowing the answer was going to decide how he handled the matter.

Sirius pointed to the hallway and Harry remembered that the bearded auror had been one of the three to bring Sirius into the house the other night. “Well, fuck,” Harry hissed, standing abruptly and grabbing the phone. He left a brief message on Remus’s cell, having demanded the man join the modern world already. That someone had stepped into his house, stabbed his already terribly wronged godfather, and then walked away as if there would be no consequences infuriated Harry beyond belief.

“In my fucking home?” Harry muttered, hanging up the phone and pacing. “He came into my fucking home and stabbed you? Let me guess, while you were still chained up, right?” Sirius gave a brief nod, not looking disturbed at all about it. That was okay, Harry had enough anger for ten people. “I’m going to fucking ruin that shit. Walking into my home, committing an act of violence against a bound and innocent man—Fucking hell!”

Sirius looked around curiously as the room began to shake, eventually putting his pizza down when glasses started falling out of the cupboard and shattering to the floor. Harry just growled, spelling things clean while muttering under his breath. “Fucking goddamn piece of shit auror walking into my house—even after I told them to stay the fuck away, they weren’t needed—and then stabbing my godfather, like some fucking crazy vigilante instead of an officer of the fucking law. Fucking—Motherfucking—I need a walk. I definitely need to get the fuck out of here and go for a walk.”

He got to the front door when he suddenly turned, returning to the kitchen in a huff. “Can I leave you alone?” Harry asked, looking for all the world as if he didn’t know the answer. Sirius shrugged, not really knowing himself. So far he’d been much more calm than the weird kid had been.

Harry fidgeted from foot to foot, torn on what to do. “Fine, I’ll be upstairs. Try not to—If you throw up, just aim for something easy to clean,” he muttered, whirling and stomping up the stairs. Sirius just unburied another box, trying the Hawaiian style pizza and smiling from the taste.

Sating The Dementor’s Kiss 3

SCENE 3

Sirius Black and his lawyer were already in place behind an expansive wooden table, facing the judge and turned away from the entrance to the room. Harry noticed the guards inside the room, ten armed, stone-faced Aurors, two of them having originally helped capture Black on that fateful day. Harry was grateful no dementors were present. He did not know how Remus would handle reliving the past while also surrounded by the soul sucking monsters.

Remus grabbed Harry’s arm the moment he caught sight of his old friend, Harry letting him even though the werewolf’s grip was painful. He understood once they reached the side enough to see Black’s profile. The man did not look like the other prisoners that had been in this room after years spent in the horrible jail. No, Sirius Black was nearly healthy looking, form still full of muscle, posture nearly dignified even though his skin was too pale, grim frown lines etched on his ducked face.

“His lawyer must have cleaned him up,” Remus muttered under his breath. “To make us more sympathetic.”

Harry wasn’t so sure, knowing that dementors could waste a person just by being in their presence long enough. You couldn’t just glamor something like that away even by putting him in a nice suit and tie. Black’s lawyer took that moment to lean in to the man to say something, the criminal’s face rising and turning. Harry started, immediately closing his eyes and looking away from the exchange.

“He has that effect on people,” Remus whispered into his ear. “He never had to try to be charismatic, his face did it for him. Although, believe me, he was always smooth. He could charm the socks off of McGonagall.”

Harry nodded mutely, hating the flood of heat still tingling through his body. Not only had Sirius Black managed to not be a worn, weak sack of skin and bones, he had also managed to be beautiful as well. Heart stopping, breathtakingly beautiful. His dark features were sharp and aristocratic, long midnight black hair pulled in a sleek ponytail topped with a widow’s peak and making his cheekbones look even sharper. And his eyes… they were so stunningly blue, wild and mad as he stared intently at his lawyer.

Draco was right; he really needed to get laid. He had been cooped up in the house too long and had lost his fucking mind. Black had murdered his parents and Harry couldn’t stop seeing his damn eyes even though he had shut his own to block the sight.

Jaw gritted tensely, Harry took his seat, Remus beside him and blessfully blocking his view of the criminal with his powerful form. Remus usually liked to pretend to be meek and docile, but seeing his old friend turned traitor was bringing the beast out in him. The golden eyed man was puffing up, his muscles allowed to expand, his posture aggressive and ready for anything. Harry noticed some of the aurors looking Remus’s way, but didn’t comment. If this was how the man was able to cope, then he had a right to it.

Harry had chosen Remus to be his advocate, not wanting to get a lawyer involved in such a personal matter. The more people involved, the more likely reporters would start showing up, and Harry didn’t want this to be any worse than it already was. They waited patiently, the judge finally done sorting through the paperwork before her, ruffling the pages before placing them flat.

“Barrister Colms, I have read that your client has a request.”

“Yes, your honor. Mr. Black asks to be executed without trial or questioning. He concedes to all wrong doing, and wishes to spare the court the time and cost in continuing with these proceedings.”

Remus growled lowly under his breath, Harry meeting the man’s eye. “The coward,” was all Remus muttered, but Harry understood. Black was trying to get out from having to answer truthfully to his crimes under Veritaserum.

“Mr. Black, you cannot honestly sit here and tell me you are content to go to your death. I have read your file. You were very vocal about having been imprisoned wrongly. You demanded your day in court, and although granted, twenty years late, I cannot imagine you would not wish to have it.”

Sirius looked at his lawyer questioningly, his face a blank mask of emotion. Mr. Colms waved his hand, indicating the man stand when talking to the judge. He got to his feet only a little unsteadily, chains clinking, the man’s wrists bound together and connected to his ankles by metal shackles. “Your honor, there isn’t much point to it,” Sirius said lowly, his voice a gruff, harsh echo of humanity.

Harry watched, fascinated when Sirius suddenly fought back a smile. Was something funny about it all? Having to defend his want to just die? “It’ll be quieter, mam. No more screams to keep me up—I’m as good as dead anyways.” A grimace now, so deep, but his eyes were flashing even as he stood perfectly still. “I just want some peace… Years of their screaming in my head, years of their accusations… I just want it to stop. I’m so cold… just dead inside anyways… can hardly feel anything. So what’s the point?”

Remus suddenly stood, hands slamming down on the table, Harry jumping in his seat. “The point, you selfish asshole, is not for you! It’s for me and for the boy you orphaned. It’s for Peter’s dead parents, and every decent person that lost sleep as they relived nightmares from that horrible explosion you caused. Stop being such a coward and face the fucking truth!”

Sirius had fallen silent on seeing Remus, his eyes moving over the man slowly, confusion clear on his face. “Are you… Do I know you?” He asked hollowly, taking a step back when Remus growled at him.

“Lupin,” Remus snapped, looking for all the world like he was going to throttle the man.

Sirius bit his lip, eyes straying to the judge and then back again. “John?”

“Remus!” The werewolf roared.

Harry jumped up, grabbing Remus’s arm before the aurors decided to try to instead. “He’s confused, Remi. You know the dementors do that to a person.”

“Like hell—He’s just trying to piss me off!” Remus suddenly stilled, watching as Sirius’s eyes filled with tears, the criminal no longer looking at him but at Harry.

“J-James?” Sirius whispered weakly, slowly crumpling to his knees and speaking frantically. “Oh god, I’m so sorry, Jamie boy. He was too strong—I hadn’t known, hadn’t known someone was helping him—I tried to stop him, I swear. Had hoped to kill the little monster but he—He was too strong!” The man started gasping, huge, painful sobs shaking his entire form.

Remus tore away with a snarl of disgust. “Now you fucking cry? Now, after you got them all killed!” He paced away from Sirius before he started hitting. Harry stayed where he was, unable to look away as Black pleaded with him for forgiveness through desperate gasps for air.

“I wasn’t… wasn’t strong enough… Peter was smarter… someone… helping…” Sirius tore his face from his hands, wrenching at his ears and pulling his hair fitfully. “I let you down… got them killed… Lily—beautiful Lily and her sweet babe… Just… just finish it, Jamie… Just make it all stop…” he begged, eyes red rimmed and imploring as he stared up at Harry from the floor.

Stomach churning, Harry realized he just didn’t have any anger in him, not when faced with this raw mess of emotion. The man might have done horrible things, but he was human, and in pain, and clearly lost. Harry took a deep breath, edging closer to the broken man. “Mr. Black, you’re confused. My name is Harry. My father James died a very long time ago, but I didn’t. I’m Lily’s child. I’m twenty-one… You’ve been in prison for twenty years and a lot of things have changed.” He tried to keep his voice even and light, not wanting to upset the man more than he already was. “Mr. Black, I’m here to learn your story about what happened.”

Eyes full of confusion, Sirius began looking around the courtroom, finally finding Remus glaring from across the room. He stared at the man, eyes moving unceasingly, turning back to Harry again, taking in his green eyes and shorter stature. Then Sirius was looking at his own hands, large and rough, very different from the teenage hands he had gone into Azkaban with.

Sirius suddenly lurched to his feet, Harry stepping back quickly. “Remus, why would you bring this boy here?” He asked, voice harsh and full of disbelief. “Haven’t I hurt enough people? You need to have him watch me die?”

Remus gave a loud growl but kept himself from retorting, instead turning his back to Sirius.

“Please, your honor,” Sirius continued, returning to the judge. “You need to give me the Kiss. Just—Just stop this madness. Nothing they learn is going to fix it… Please. Just let it die with me.”

“Suck it up, Black!” Remus shouted from across the room. “For once in your wretched existence, do something for someone else, you arrogant, selfish ass!”

Sirius fell silent, chains clinking as he swayed on his feet. The judge didn’t say anything for a long while, fingers tapping as she looked the group over.

“We will have a recess so that each party can calm themselves. In ten minutes the Veritaserum will be administered, and the court official will ask Mr. Potter and Mr. Lupin’s prepared questions. You will not be capable of lying, Mr. Black. I suggested you come to terms with this now.”

Sirius slumped forward, looking all the world like a defeated man. Harry walked over to where Remus was vibrating with anger, grabbing his arm and leading him out of the room to collect himself.

“That selfish git. After all this time, he’d deny this one fucking thing.”

Harry just nodded, letting him vent.

“Pretending you were James. Acting like he couldn’t tell I’d aged.”

“Remi, he wasn’t acting and you bloody well know it,” Harry said sharply. “Even you thought I was James for a moment this morning.”

“I thought you looked like James. It’s totally different.” He glared at Harry’s challenging look, eventually huffing in defeat. “Fine… fine, he’s so fucked in the head he doesn’t even know he’s forty…” Remus suddenly choked on a sob, Harry grabbing the man around the shoulders and holding him tight. “He didn’t even know who I was… He’s going to die, not even knowing life went on.”

Harry rubbed the man’s back, eyes downcast. Remus had learned to cope. He had built a life after the tragic events that had led to the murder of the two Potters. Somehow to know Sirius was still frozen in that terrible moment, going to the grave twenty years later while still a young man in his mind was too much for Remus. Sirius had been his friend, had done so many things to help the young boy come out of his shell during school, and even though he had been a hotheaded, arrogant sod a lot of the times, Sirius had been a damn good friend too. The old wound was tearing open, and Harry wondered if maybe he shouldn’t have pushed for this. Maybe it would have been better to leave Black to rot in a cell in silence for another twenty years.

“Come on,” Harry urged once Remus had gained control of himself. “Let’s get this over with. We can visit their graves after, and we’ll tell them why he did it. Then we can all just let it go, Remi.”

Nodding weakly, Remus let Harry lead him back to the courtroom.

Magical Reflection 12

SCENE 12

Pacing the tiny room had gotten old very quickly. Harry had been trapped there for two days, had read every Quidditch magazine Ron and Seamus owned, and had even given schoolwork a shot only to stop, completely bored. He wanted out. Dren had visited only once to let him know he was assisting in one of the potions labs in the dungeon and would not be available. No one had told him how Draco was although someone had managed to heal Harry’s arm while he was sleeping. Giving another angry look to the four walls surrounding him, he decided it was time to take a walk.

Once he was out of the castle he’d be fine, it was just the getting through the castle that was the issue. He figured he’d have a plan by the time he got out of the infirmary. For now, he peeked his head out the door, bare feet edging on the cool stone floor as he slipped out the exit of his room. He was halfway through the large room when he heard a noise, turning slowly to find three pairs of unfamiliar eyes staring dazed at him.

“Aw, crap,” he muttered. Given their age, they were parents to the injured first years. They were also between him and the door to freedom. Hopping from one foot to the other, he reached for the nearest doorknob in the line of private rooms to the right of him, only to find it locked. “Crap, crap, crap, crap…” Hand reaching out, Harry began backing up from the approaching trio, trying each handle in turn until one blessfully opened. With a sigh of relief, he stumbled through the open door and slammed it shut behind him.

“Harry Potter. Now this is a treat.”

Harry jumped wide eyed as he tried to place the voice of the boy talking to him. He found him by the bed, Harry groaning when he saw Malfoy fast asleep among the sheets. Out of all the damn doors, he had to end up in Malfoy’s room? Exasperated, he turned his attention to the boy sitting in a chair next to Draco’s bed. His scowl grew once recognizing the veela.

“Terrence,” he said stiffly. Maybe someone had pulled the parents out of the hall? He was almost willing to brave three adult humans with uncontrollable lust, than the fucker slowly getting to his feet.

“I knew it was you,” Terrence said smugly, eyes roaming over the boy possessively. “I could scent you rooms away. You look good, Potter. You look… interesting.”

Harry stiffened when Terrence took a step forward, the boy’s eyes starting to glow, feathers rippling and sprouting. He tried to keep his panic from rising, his mind flashing back to the last time he had seen Terrence in this form with four other veela egging him on. “Back the fuck off, you overgrown chickenshit,” he snapped. “If I had known you were here, I sure as fuck never would have entered this room.”

“Oh, don’t sound so unhappy to see me. We had so much fun the last time… And you smell even nicer now.” Terrence was suddenly a foot away, his speed unmatched. “We didn’t get to finish what we started last time, Potter. I have deeply regretted that. But you’re here now as am I. And this time I don’t have to share you.”

“If you touch me, I am going to hurt you,” Harry said hoarsely, unable to look away from the veela’s glowing eyes. His knees were growing weak and his body very much wanted to surge forward and touch this boy… this cruel, ugly, terrible boy that had tried to rape him so many months ago.

“Who are you trying to kid?” Terrence asked, head tilted as he looked Harry over in his thin pajamas. “I can sense how hard you are, how much you’re begging for it. Only certain humans get that way around veela, Potter. You’re one of the lucky ones… The type we get to fuck.”

Harry pushed back against the door, hating how even now his body was responding. He couldn’t close his eyes to the unnatural glow but he could feel his own power. Ever since his night with Draco, he could feel the well of power inside him whenever veela energy was near. He reached for it now, sipping up strands of magic, wrapping himself in a golden barrier floating just above his skin. He would make sure Terrence regretted ever trying to touch him again.

“What have you been fucking lately, Potter? You have an unfamiliar musk on you.” The veela frowned, trapping the boy in his power while breathing up the side of his neck. “Don’t you know you’re made for veelas? This smell you give off… You’re begging for a veela. Hot, desperate, begging for it.”

Harry struggled against the fog that had come over him, Terrence now inches from his skin. “I’m warning you,” he gasped out.

“That’s okay. You’re even nicer when glaring like this.” Smirking cruelly, Terrence went to cup Harry’s cheek. The instant he made contact, power shot out, the veela thrown back across the room with a loud screech.

Harry grasped weakly for the door behind him, trying not to fall as the veela’s spell was broken. Fucking arrogant fucking veela always trying to fucking take.

“Shit… You’re powerful.” Terrence pushed himself to his feet, feathers charred, smoke rising off his clothes. “Which just makes hunting you all the more fun.”

“Hunting?” Harry fumbled for the door handle, pretty sure it would still be safer with the parents at this point.

“Oh, yes. The high council has been trying to figure out who gets to keep you, Potter. Ever since we found out you could weave, they’ve been searching to pick someone strong enough to subdue you.”

“That was… that was just a spell. Malfoy showed me how,” Harry muttered, his mind whirring at the thought of the veela government trying to capture him.

“No, you ignorant thing. One cannot learn to weave. Malfoy woke you up and now we just need to figure out who is going to keep you.” Terrence began pushing his feathers back on his head, smoothing them down, some floating to the floor. “I think if I work on you long enough, I just might win.”

Harry had heard enough of this particular line of insanity. “Listen here, you rude piece of shit. No one is ever going to fucking own me or keep me or subdue me or anything. You tell your goddamn veela council if they don’t leave me alone, I’m going to come after them. I will hunt you fuckers down and I’ll weave your hearts out of oblivion. And it will not be an accident!”

Terrence had recovered himself enough, leaning on Draco’s bed, eyes again alight with veela power. Harry quickly shut his eyes, drawing more power up in preparation to battle. “Potter, you hardly know how to do a simple weave. You might have amazing power but you don’t know how to use it. You could never match my people. As for your little trick of earlier—Who the hell says I even have to touch you? I can make you so full of need that you’ll be begging me to touch you. I could make you ride me without even—”

Harry could not see why Terrence stopped talking but the veela started making a strained, wheezing noise and his power dropped again. He debated whether it was a trick or not, then decided it mustn’t be because Terrence just loved to hear himself talk too much to ever pretend otherwise. Harry opened one eye carefully, the second quickly following.

Malfoy was strangling Terrence. One handed, sneering silently, holding Terrence high over his head. Staring at the scene, Harry had two separate thoughts. The first was the question of if Draco was actually healed or was this the boy full of murderous rogue rage. The second thought being that Draco looked absolutely sexy when his muscles flexed like that.

“Er… You alright there, Malfoy?” Harry asked, biting his lip when Draco turned searing silver eyes his way. Shit, even mad as a hatter, Draco was really, really hot. It helped that he totally hated Terrence. But then… Malfoy was supposed to be friends with Terrence. He was supposed to have sent the veela to hurt him in the first place. Blinking, Harry decided it was time to go.

“Potter,” Draco hissed when Harry went to open the door and leave. Glancing back, his knees nearly gave out when he caught Draco glowing, transforming to feathery and sexy.

“What do you want me to do to him?” Draco continued, looking at the brunette meaningfully.

Harry swallowed hard, a wicked grin breaking across his face. Terrence looked very, very scared, eyes wide as he clawed at Draco’s hand. Veela halflings were much more powerful physically than the full blooded types and Terrence was feeling it the hard way.

“Thought he was your friend, Malfoy,” he said, taking a step forward and then another, really wanting to see how Draco’s muscles bulged up close. The boy wasn’t even straining, still just holding Terrence up even though he had been stuck in bed for days.

“That was before I heard him say he was going to touch you,” Draco said tightly, anger making his voice hard. “No one gets to fucking touch you.”

Eyebrows raised, Harry was not sure what the hell to make of such a statement. Well, beyond his body’s initial burst of lust. He stepped closer to the bed, resting at the foot of it, hands inches from Draco’s feet. He glanced briefly up at Terrence, the veela looking paler than proper, eyes nearly bulging out. He smirked, bringing his gaze back to Draco. “You’re still out of your mind.”

Frowning grimly, the blond just stared at him, eyes glowing brighter as if trying to pull the brunette into the bed with him. Harry really didn’t mind. Draco was damn sweet when crazy, being protective and pretending he was actually someone the blond cared about. He wished the boy was like this all the time.

“Hurt him,” Harry said abruptly, answering Draco’s earlier question. And while he rested his elbows on the bed, Draco did as he asked without the slightest signs of hesitation. It was quick, efficient, and brutal, the brunette admitting a great amount of arousal to the vicious sight.

Growling, Draco threw Terrence’s whimpering, bloodied form to the ground, eyes again fixed on Harry. “You’re mine.”

He shrugged, bemused with Draco’s crazy conviction of such a statement. “Your asshole friends don’t seem to think so. Actually, I’m pretty sure you didn’t think so when you sent them after me at the beginning of the school term.”

Draco sat up further in the bed, tucking his knees until he was crouched in front of the brunette. “I did no such thing.”

“Oh? Then they just managed to know where I liked to hang out while having never been here before?” Harry kept his voice light, his body feeling numb just thinking about it. “They called me by my name outside the closed door. Told me how you had told them everything about what I had done that night. Terrence said I had ‘brought it on myself.’ His exact words.”

“Brought what?” Draco demanded, his eyes snapping down to the veela whimpering on the floor. When Terrence made no move to answer, Draco leaned down, hauling the boy up. “What the fuck did you do to him?”

“M-Malfoy, it’s not what you think—Shit! Potter, you need to talk him down!”

Harry, who was feeling about as numb as he had ever felt before, didn’t say anything. He watched with mild interest when Draco squeezed Terrence’s hand a little too tight and something snapped loudly. Malfoy was just being crazy. Because even if he hadn’t known, it still didn’t mean he would fucking care.

“Fine—f-fine! We were sent to test him! To see if he was as powerful as you said—Dammit! You didn’t tell us you claimed him!”

“Potter, is he telling the truth? Did they just test you?” Draco asked, his words muffled by his long, sharp teeth.

“No,” he said flatly, Terrence shrieking as another finger was broken.

“What. Did. You. Do.” Draco shook the veela with every word.

Terrence held on weakly, eyes again turned to Harry pleadingly. “Potter, please… you have to… calm him.”

He didn’t have to do fuck. “I think you should answer the question. Poor Malfoy is very sick from the madness and you aren’t helping things by being difficult.”

“He’s not—Ahh!” Terrence screamed, Draco twisting his thumb.

“Not the right answer, Terrence.” Harry gave a bored sigh, pushing taller on his arms until he was standing fully. He wondered idly how many more fingers Malfoy would have to go through until the veela actually got the damn hint. It turned out to be two.

“Oh hell… we… we pulled him… We wanted to see if he could fight it… like you said…”

Draco went still, wrenching the veela up to his face, Terrence’s head rolling forward, his neck unable to support the weight anymore. “Did you touch him?”

“Y-Yes…”

Draco gave a warning roar, suddenly standing and holding the veela by the head, hands pressing over his ears painfully. “Did you rape him!”

“No!” Terrence cried, eyes squeezed shut as Draco held his head tighter. Draco turned to Harry, eyes blazing for confirmation.

Harry stepped over, grabbing Terrence by the jaw. “You see what he’s doing to you? If I ever run across another one of you fuckers trying to test me or touch me or rape me ever again, this is going to seem like a fucking picnic. You want to tell me I can’t weave? The first time I tried, I was powerful enough to kill Voldemort while your full-blooded, shiny haired bitches kept getting eaten by the monster.” He turned away in disgust, anger boiling in him suddenly so much stronger than the numbness of before.

“Potter?” Draco growled, his unasked question clear.

“They tried, Malfoy,” Harry snapped. “I was stronger. Fucking five glowing veela tried to break me. They touched me, and when I realized they were going to rape me, I wove myself the fuck out of there. Blinked into the damn Shrieking Shack and had myself a nice, lonely freakout. Fucking hate veela.”

Draco abruptly dropped Terrence, the veela crumpling to the ground in a pained heap. “Why didn’t you tell me? Is this why—Damn it, you haven’t said a fucking word to me since we started school! Why the fuck would you not tell me?”

Harry looked at him in disbelief. “Because I thought you sent them to do it, Malfoy!”

Draco stepped back as if slapped, his eyes wide. “My god… Do you really think so little of me?”

It was too much for Harry, Draco looking so shell-shocked and small. He was already upset from having to remember so much, from the veela to Voldemort. Now he had to feel guilty for thinking Draco had wanted to hurt him? “What the fuck do you want from me, Malfoy? You ran off that night. You fucking left me on the damn floor. You never tried to say a fucking word—And shit, you were right for it.”

“I came back,” Draco said weakly, hands reaching for Harry, who quickly stepped away. “You had passed out. I stayed with you. I left to get help and then I stayed with you while you were unconscious.”

Harry shook his head agitatedly while gnawing on his lower lip. “You left. You left me all alone to… to count them. Every heart. Every single one, trying to figure out who I had killed.”

“You were so weak! I had to get you help. I-I…” Draco took a deep breath, tears welling. “I forced you, Potter. You were so weak, bleeding and confused and I was so much stronger—”

“Stop! Why are you saying that?” Harry shouted, pulling at his hair fitfully. “You were under a spell. That fucking potion. You can’t blame yourself over a goddamn spell!”

Draco groaned, turning and nearly tripping over the fallen Terrence. “I never drank the fucking thing! My father tried to make me and I blacked out. When I came to I had gone all veela for the first time.” He turned back, eyes begging Harry to understand. “I couldn’t let them hurt you. I just couldn’t. There was something inside me that wanted to kill everyone so that you would be safe. And that same something… it wanted to make you mine. Even though you were weak and didn’t understand and couldn’t fight back properly.”

Harry couldn’t speak, his mind reeling wildly. It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. Malfoy had been full of a lust potion. He had wanted to have sex with him because of that potion, using his call. And while they were having sex, they happened to do a spell to kill Voldemort and save both their lives with Draco’s veela powers. But… but if you took the potion out of the mix, how the hell had any of it happen?

“Wait, don’t run away!” Draco shouted, racing Harry to the door and slamming it shut while the brunette struggled to open it. “Talk to me! Yell at me! Anything! Just stop running away from me!”

Harry growled, turning and shoving the boy back. “What! What the fuck do you want from me! So you didn’t take the potion—What the hell is that supposed to mean? You left me and then you never talked to me again. And we started school and those fuckers came after me—”

“But I had nothing to do with that!”

“It still fucking happened!” Harry yelled, hitting Draco again, the taller boy stumbling back. Draco grabbed his fists before he could strike a third time, trapping them against his chest.

“I would never do that to you. My god, Harry, I felt bad enough for what I did to you that night. I would never… Never do such a thing.” Draco pulled him closer, trying to get the boy to meet his gaze. The brunette kept his head ducked, struggling still to pull away.

“I killed your mom,” Harry whispered hoarsely, tears in his eyes. “It was okay that you wanted to hurt me because I killed her. You should hate me… I-I hate me and you should too.”

Eyes downcast, Draco sighed heavily. He released Harry’s hands only to thread his fingers through the boy’s dark locks, pulling his face up. “What are you doing to yourself, my beautiful?” He whispered, pressing his forehead against his. “You didn’t even know what you were doing. I was supposed to guide you. Keep you focused. I never even warned you that others could get hurt. It wasn’t your fault.”

Harry just shook his head weakly, more tears falling from his blinking lashes. “I am so sorry, Draco… So, so, so fucking sorry,” he gasped out.

Draco tried to wrap his arms around the boy, but Harry began to pull away the instant he felt it. So Draco kept his fingers lightly on the back of his neck while his other hand combed Harry’s hair. “It’s okay. I promise.”

“I gotta… I need to go,” Harry mumbled, stepping back. “I just can’t…”

“Please stay—God… just… just stay for a few minutes,” Draco pleaded softly. “You don’t have to say a word if you don’t want.” He pulled away, his hands out and open. “I won’t touch you. I just… I just want to be around you.”

Harry paused at the door, eyes staring blankly at his bare feet. Draco relaxed slightly when the boy made no further signs of trying to escape. “Um… did you come in here to see me?” He asked, trying to draw Harry into a safer line of conversation.

Harry shook his head mutely. He chanced a glance up, gnawing on his now swollen bottom lip, only to look away when he caught Draco’s eye. “I was trying to get outside for a bit but there were people out there.” He tilted his head towards the door.

“They, uh, didn’t hurt you, did they?” Draco asked, remembering how the brunette had freaked out in the Great Hall.

“Nah.” Harry sighed, staring at the floor again. “Really, I should just get out of here and…” He needed to think. He needed to get away from the damn beautiful boy and think.

“Let me at least take you to your room?” Draco asked, taking a small step closer. “Just to make sure no one hurts you.”

Harry spared a glance behind Draco’s legs, Terrence groaning in pain on the floor while he held his broken hands to his body. “You think that’s a good idea? You’re not quite yourself right now.”

Draco furrowed his brow, turning to where he was looking for a moment, then back to the brunette. “Harry, I’ve been free of the illness for ten hours now.” He stooped, picking Terrence up by the shoulder and throwing him unceremoniously on the bed. “My body actually fought the illness off, it just took a while. Pomfrey wants me to stay in bed for another day. You know how she gets.”

Harry just stared. His mind kept freezing up at the very thought of Draco saying all the things he had just said while at the same time not being infected. He shook his head quickly, trying to clear the strange blush from his cheeks. He really needed to just get the hell away and think in peace.

He stepped aside when Draco approached, staring at the taller boy’s back and long silky hair as he opened the door. “All clear?” Harry asked hopefully.

“Give me a second and I’ll clear them out,” Draco said, stepping out the door and latching it behind him. Staring blearily at the doorknob, Harry wondered if Draco was out there throwing people literally out of the room. He glanced again at the broken pile of Terrence. Malfoy had systematically pulled the veela apart just because he had… What, exactly? Was it because he had asked Draco to hurt Terrence? Or was it because Draco didn’t want anyone touching him?

And why, exactly, didn’t Draco want people touching him? He had been upset in the forest too. Upset he had let Dren touch him. Draco had been begging that he only be his… And now he had beaten up Terrence, the ringleader of the asshole veela that had attacked him months ago. He had… Draco had said he was his…

The door suddenly pushed open, Harry starting, eyes rising to catch on Draco’s. Staring at him far too long, Draco eventually stepped back so Harry could get into the now empty hall connecting all the single rooms together. Harry glanced down and sideways, catching Draco in his peripheral as the boy followed him slowly to his room. And then Harry was suddenly pushing his way into his tiny white room and Draco was in the doorway behind him, hanging on the frame, long hair blocking his face from sight.

“Potter, I need to talk to you about that night. Seriously talk to you.” Draco looked up, his expression tired but resigned. “It’s… It’s difficult, the things I need to say, and I just really don’t know how to say them all. But I need to. Because I just don’t know how to keep doing this.”

Harry sat heavily on the bed, hands braced on his knees. “Yeah, okay. We can do that. Just not…”

“Not now,” Draco agreed quietly. He straightened, staring at Harry’s bowed head and shoulders. He walked further into the room, sinking down to his knees in front of the boy, Harry’s green eyes widening as he caught sight of him.

“What are you…?” Harry gasped, Draco’s hands cupping his face firmly.

“You’re in danger like this. And you’re bored in this room. And I… I would really like to kiss you,” Draco murmured, nose brushing against Harry’s lightly. “Would that be…?”

“Yeah,” Harry replied breathlessly, eyes fluttering shut, Draco’s hands warm on his skin, breath even warmer as he slipped closer and gently pressed their lips together. It was soft, sweet and tinged with sorrow. Exhaling slowly, Harry yielded into the firmer touch, Draco’s fingers pulling him closer, tongue urging his lips to part. “Oh… oh hell,” Harry whispered weakly, shuddering as he melted under Draco’s hot mouth.

Groaning, Draco tangled his fingers into Harry’s hair and crushed the boy’s lips as he surged forward, delving his tongue deep and tasting. Harry gave a resounding moan, arms wrapping around the blond’s neck as he met each thrust of tongue with his own. Gasping loudly, he suddenly found himself in Draco’s lap, the boy pulling him down to the floor on top of him. Harry wrapped himself tighter, straddling the boy’s thighs while Draco slid an arm around his waist and ground their lower bodies together.

Harry could not fully understand why he needed to crawl inside the boy holding him but that was what he wanted, to pull Draco’s flesh so tight to him that they would eventually meld and merge and be complete again. And Draco definitely understood, his grip so strong and forceful as he wrenched Harry’s hips, twined their tongues and tried to breathe through the brunette’s mouth as if it were his own. Harry pushed fitfully at Draco’s pajama shirt, finding the hem and getting his hands underneath, seeking out the waiting hot flesh beneath. He tried to undo the buttons, his fingers uncoordinated and impatient, tearing and slipping on each small disk.

Draco growled, far less impeded, grabbing Harry’s shirt by the bottom of the hem and pulling it up his back, twisting and folding until the brunette finally relented and raised his arms long enough to pull it free. Except neither was willing to break from their kiss long enough, Draco finally groaning and wrenching away so that he could have the boy topless, dark hair ruffled into a mess. Seeing that Harry had still not gotten his shirt undone, Draco quickly tore the two halves of his top apart, buttons popping and rolling away.

“Harry, your—mmph!” Draco was cut off by his desperate mouth again, groaning as the brunette attacked him with such force he toppled backwards, Harry following relentlessly after.

Forcing Draco flat onto his back, Harry kissed him hard into the floor, hands moving down his sides and up his chest, fingers fanning and digging in as he explored every hard plane he could reach. Draco explored his back, large palms running possessively over every bare inch of flesh and muscle, moving down and grabbing the boy’s ass. Harry cried out when Draco suddenly pulled him tight against his hips, their hard lengths crashing into each other.

Glaring as he heard voices in the hall outside, Harry reached for the still wide open door, nearly losing his balance as he leaned to push it shut. Seeing him stretched out, Draco caught the boy’s extended arm, other hand flowing over his body, lingering on his hips. Sharp hipbones peeked out from the waist of Harry’s pajama pants that Draco immediately began to push further down, revealing more creamy, golden skin.

“Oh fuck,” Harry gasped, Draco pulling him further up his body by his outstretched arm, their flesh rubbing together achingly. With his free hand, he braced himself on Draco’s shoulder while the blond managed to get his palm down the front of Harry’s thin pants and into his sweaty curls. Harry moaned loudly, hips rocking forward in hard, desperate thrusts, pumping into the fingers wrapped around his cock.

“That’s it, beautiful,” Draco murmured huskily in his ear, releasing his wrist to grip the boy’s hip and add more resistance to each grinding pump. “God, I’ve dreamed of this. Holding you again. Hearing you gasp and cry for me.”

Harry whimpered, panting into Draco’s neck as he held the boy’s shoulder and hip. It took everything in him not to say what he was feeling. How horrible and wonderful it was to be back in Draco’s arms. It wouldn’t last. It couldn’t last. He was fucked in the head, and Draco… god, Draco was fucking perfect.

“Come for me,” Draco demanded, mouth wide as he licked up the side of the brunette’s neck, teeth nipping into his jaw. “You are mine, Harry. Every time you come, it’s for me. Every cry, every breath, every drop of your seed; these are the gifts you give me.”

“Draco,” Harry moaned, his eyes rolling back in his head when the blond’s free hand pushed his pants down, fingers teasing between his cheeks. It was too much, those long digits stretching his flesh, dipping into his hole and touching inside him. Harry’s cry was of surrender, his cum streaming into Draco’s ready palm, hips jerking fitfully while the blond held him tight.

As Harry’s breathing began to even out, the rest of the world started to filter in. The sun streaming in through the window. Voices outside the door. Draco, mouth moving over his neck, pausing only to lick his hand clean of cum with hungry strokes. He could feel the blond’s stare, trying to catch his eye, trying to figure out what he was thinking. But he wasn’t thinking. He never fucking thought anymore, he just reacted and acted with no regard for consequences.

Face buried in Draco’s neck, Harry slid his hand down between their sweat soaked bodies, seeking out the hard length still burning into his hip. Draco caught his hand before he could wrap his fingers around his cock. Harry bit his lip, not sure why Draco would stop him and unwilling to seek the boy’s face out to ask him.

Draco entwined their fingers together while pulling Harry’s pants back up. “If you touch me, I won’t be able to hold back,” he said hoarsely, kissing his cheek. “Every part of me is screaming to fuck you, my beautiful. I want to come inside you. I want you to come inside me. There is only so much I can control right now.”

Harry felt dizzy, the world spinning wildly at the very thought of Draco so close to the brink that just to touch his dick would be to break his self control. He made himself pull away. Forced himself to get up away from Draco’s heat, sweat and breath and sit alone on the bed while not looking at the boy. Because he would touch him if he stayed. Just to see if Draco was lying. Just to have the boy inside him again.

Draco didn’t move for a while as he collected himself. He stayed long enough for Harry’s eyes to wander back his way, taking in his long legs, bare torso, fierce, contemplative face while the boy breathed haltingly with his eyes closed. He was beautiful. Harry fought the urge to go back, to unveil Draco’s erection and wrap his lips around his cock the way he’d been dreaming of doing nearly every time he closed his eyes.

“Harry,” Draco whispered, his eyes remaining shut. Harry wondered if they were shining behind his lids even though he felt no pull.

“Yeah?”

“The spell should be gone.”

Wetting his lips, Harry slowly got to his feet. “You want me to go?”

Draco gave a harsh laugh, his hand covering his face. “Never. I want you to never leave my presence again. But if you don’t get the fuck away from me soon, smelling the way you’re smelling, I’m going to lose my shit.” He trailed of, groaning softly as the world again went dizzy for the brunette.

Harry paused, standing over Draco, watching the boy determinedly keeping his eyes closed. “Is that all it is? Just some sort of scent?”

Draco didn’t say anything for a long minute, his fingers threading through his hair. “Everyone has a scent,” he finally answered, choosing his words carefully. “The same way the arrangement of facial features, physical attributes and even desirable emotional states can provoke a response of attraction.” He hesitated, finally adding softly. “Just… I don’t notice anyone else’s scent but yours.”

Heart racing in his ears, Harry bit the side of his thumb. “Why’s that?”

Draco shrugged, hand again covering his eyes. “Not sure. Probably because… well, it’s one of the things I need to talk to you about. Soon.”

“Oh… okay.” He was too distracted to move his feet even though he knew he should. Draco was waiting for him to leave. Needed him to go so he could get himself back under control. His body just didn’t seem to care. “What happens if you look at me right now?” He asked softly, both of Draco’s palms now over his eyes.

“Nothing.” Draco lifted his hands away, his eyes perfectly normal and free of glow. Except the tears streaking from the corners of his eyelids, fresh ones even now threatening to spill.

Harry swallowed hard, not sure what to do. “Why are you…?”

“Missed you,” Draco said simply, closing his eyes again. “A lot.”

His throat feeling tight all of a sudden, Harry nodded weakly. “I’m gonna go,” he mumbled, stepping around the boy.

“Soon, Potter.”

“Yeah.” Harry escaped out into the hall, shutting the door behind him. Sirius, Remus, Severus and Dren all looked up at him, the four in a huddle as they conversed. Harry barely noticed them, walking past and ignoring their calls.

Magical Reflection 9

SCENE 9

Getting back into Hogwarts was far more difficult than leaving, Draco not conscious to stop the very interested students in the hall from following Harry as he raced towards the infirmary. Dren also seemed incapable of helping even though he could at least control himself. The enchancubus immediately pulled his hood down over his face when entering the castle, Draco still safely in his arms, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

“Madame Pomfrey!” Harry shouted on entering the main room of the hospital ward and locking the door behind them, the witch nowhere to be found. There was a loudly clacking bell just for such an occasion and Harry brutally began to clang it until the mediwitch appeared in one of the connecting doorways frowning, only to flush and abruptly shut the door.

“Crap,” Harry muttered, realizing there was no way he could be in the room while Malfoy was being healed. He walked over to the closed door, speaking to the healer on the other side. “Malfoy’s been infected. The black dead one is the rogue—Pretty sure the original carrier. The wolf is another victim and willing to be tested on. The guy in the robe is the enchancubus and if he gives you any trouble, tell me and I’ll deal with him. Oh, and there are two baby cubs that need to be nursed and kept warm.” Harry winced inwardly, realizing he had just dumped a lot of work into the mediwitch’s lap, the woman always complaining loudly about it.

“Mr. Potter, don’t you dare go traipsing around the castle in your condition. Your arm is broken, you’re covered in blood…”

Harry rolled his eyes, growling under his breath. “Fine, whatever. I’ll be in the damn tiny white room. But I want something to read—And not school books! Ron has quidditch magazines.”

“I will find a way to get you healed, Harry, I promise. We will just have to figure something out without Mr. Malfoy’s help.”

Harry nodded curtly even though the woman couldn’t see. He should have kissed the prat. There was no way in fuck he could have, but he really should have. Because now Draco was contagious and who the fuck knew if it was even curable?

“Madame Pomfrey, like I said, the enchancubus is here and is willing to help—To a certain degree. He can interact with me safely and may be able to help with the antidote. I’m going to run now so that you can take care of Dra—Malfoy,” Harry said gruffly, pushing away from the door and towards the one that led to his room of that morning. He gently deposited the two sleeping cubs in the center of a cot, wrapping them in a nest of blankets.

“Sorry to do this to you, Dren, but they shouldn’t give you too much grief. She nags, but that’s the worst of it,” Harry said apologetically.

“Do you really think you can heal Garruth?” Dren asked, carefully brushing the unconscious wolf’s ear.

“The physical injuries easily. The madness… Well, that’s the whole point to try. I’ll be in a room over here if you need me. And if you’d be willing to update me on what’s happening, that wouldn’t be too bad either,” Harry said, wetting his lips as he floated Draco down on the nearest cot. The boy was so beautiful, so still. He did not want to think what would happen if they didn’t find a cure. Another life lost because of him—A life of such unimaginable value to him that he could hardly fathom it fully.

“There are so many people in this place. It is difficult on me, pretty one,” Dren said, eyes flickering as if he could see through the walls. Maybe he could, the creature’s senses tuned towards more than sight.

“Er, you’re not going to go, um, hunting in here, are you?” Harry asked, worry prickling as he thought of the many very innocent children he had just opened up to the predator’s senses.

“I will control myself,” Dren whispered, eyes downcast. “It would be easier if…” Harry bit his lip, breath catching as the boy removed his hood and fixed hungry silver eyes on him.

“A little later, Dren,” Harry mumbled, stepping back towards the door as fire began to curl in the pit of his stomach. “Just, um, after you help them a bit.” It was very much Draco again, healthy, lust blazing through his gaze. Harry could not stop the thrill of desire especially after that afternoon, now when it was so much safer since Dren was unable to reach his heart the same way Draco could.

“No, pretty one. It will be you, and it will be now. You have been brimming with scent, aching with need and I cannot concentrate.”

Edging through the doorway, Harry tilted his head, beckoning the blond to follow. He snapped the door shut behind them, ducking away before Dren could touch him. That it looked like Malfoy stalking him down, smirking as he followed to Harry’s room, only made his heart beat faster, his need grow greater. He slammed through the door to his small room, noticing it was now no longer a mess of feathers and linens only to be pushed up against the door by the blond, forcefully closing it with his back.

“You are dripping in want,” Dren growled and if Harry only heard Draco, seductive and hoarse with need, he couldn’t blame himself. “Ever since the forest. Ever since he touched you. He does something to you that makes your scent stronger.”

Ignoring the words, Harry focused on the voice, quickly pushing off the boy’s heavy cloak one handed, fingers tearing for the zipper to the robe underneath. “God, just… just touch me,” Harry said with a gasp, not caring that his arm was broken or he was covered in the blood of some terrible beast. He just needed Draco to touch him and everything would be so much better.

“There is just something about you, pretty one,” Dren murmured, fingers slipping under the band of Harry’s tight leather pants, fanning around to find the clasp in the front. “Your energy… It is intoxicating. Unique. Powerful.”

“Harder,” Harry grunted, pulling the blond’s hips to his. “Fuck, just, just do it hard, and rough, and… oh god, fuck… fuck yes…” He moaned, Dren biting his shoulder, jaw focused on the muscle and clamping tight. Harry fell back against the door, nearly boneless, the pain more a release than the hands trying to get into his pants in that moment.

He wrapped his one good arm around the blond’s neck when he was lifted, legs quickly clenching around the powerful waist holding him up, just to be slammed into the door again. He let out gasp after gasp, eyes tight on Draco’s fierce, handsome features as he ground his hips rhythmically.

“You’re so close… So hard this entire time… What does he do to you?” Dren asked lowly, pushing Harry’s pants down his hips, the material folded below his ass. He snaked a hot hand between their bodies and wrapped fingers around Harry’s hard length. “Are all his kind like that?”

Harry shook his head weakly, moaning against the door, eyes half open to stare at Malfoy’s intense silver eyes. Draco was special. Harry didn’t know how to explain it, just that he had never truly reacted to veela energy before that first time with Draco, and now he couldn’t seem to stop reacting even when the boy was unconscious. “Please, just…”

“I know… I know what you need,” Dren whispered, teeth digging into Harry’s neck this time, biting hard. Harry closed his eyes, hating the pain those simple words caused. Fucking Malfoy, ruining everything, even his damn fantasy of a lie. Head knocking back against the door again, Harry came with a silent cry, thighs clenched tight to the hips jarring into him.

“That’s it, my lovely. Give me your release.” Voice husky in his ear, Dren shuddered against him. He blearily noticed the enchancubus’ energy this time, a wave of cool air sweeping over him, drinking down the heat and sweat from his tanned skin like a sacred elixir. Dren lifted his hand, pinning Harry to the door with his hips while he licked the cum from his palm in slow laps.

Harry unwound his legs, standing unsteadily on his feet as he slid down the toned, pale muscles of Draco’s body. He pushed aside the robe still clinging to the boy, hand moving down, seeking the hard length he had yet to get a proper look at.

“Harry, you don’t…” Dren trailed off, panting quietly, head resting forward against the door while the boy explored his still hard cock with his fingers. Draco was large, but not overly so, pale flesh flushed almost glowing red especially at the tip, Harry’s thumb rubbing circles with the precum glistening there.

“I want to watch him come,” Harry said, eyes straying up, catching on Draco’s flushed cheeks and very hazy expression. He had been so fierce the first time, as if trying to sear something into him beyond just his flesh and seed. But Dren looked nearly weak and open, mouth gasping soft murmurs of pleasure. He looked almost like Draco had sounded in the forest, pleading for Harry to be his.

Groaning, Harry rubbed his hips forward as he pumped Draco’s thick cock, sweat slicking his hand with each hard stroke. “God, come for me… Take that hard, big cock of yours and come all over me.” He kissed Draco’s jaw, finding himself panting loudly just thinking about the boy drizzling him with his seed.

“That scent again… You are insatiable, pretty one,” Dren said roughly, arm wrapping around Harry’s waist and crushing their lower bodies together.

“I need him… to fuck me,” Harry admitted between gasps, feeling Draco’s flesh swelling in his fist, getting ready to spurt and cover his already sweaty, blood drenched skin. “God, I need it so bad… I never knew how much… until he touched me that time.”

“Then let him, you foolish boy,” Dren chuckled, only to stop, the brunette’s mouth covering his lips. The enchancubus stared, eyes narrowing, mouth gasping suddenly when his hand squeezed firmer, pulling the blond over the edge. Harry fell back against the door, gaze falling down to watch the final streams of cum slick over his hips.

“God… that’s tight,” Harry panted out, eyes slowly moving up Draco’s smooth, sweaty skin revealed in a wide stripe between the edges of the long robe. Then back down, groaning as he rubbed the semen into his flesh, the need inside him only growing greater.

Staring at Harry for long moments, Dren eventually pulled away, zipping his robe together and sliding his cloak back on. Harry just watched him, fingers still moving over his hips, head heavy against the door. Dren reached a hand up, carefully pressing his palm to the boy’s cheek. “Doesn’t your arm hurt, pretty one? Aren’t you hungry or tired or something besides this painful ache I sense in you?”

Eyes trailing over the blond’s features, Harry shrugged unconcernedly. “No.” Sometimes he was angry. Sometimes he was just this numb blackness of despair. And sometimes, when he let himself think of Draco, he ached for whatever he had been before that night. Surely he had been a whole person once and not this broken half, crying desperate for a connection to the boy that held the rest of him inside.

“You trouble me, Harry,” Dren whispered, slipping closer to gently kiss the corner of his mouth.

Harry watched him unblinkingly. “You’re a predator, Dren. What the fuck do you care if your prey is happy or not?”

Shaking his head, Dren carefully looked over the boy’s broken arm, fingers lingering. “I am not a predator, you jaded thing. I am a bringer of good fortune and love. I enhance the physical pleasures of sex, help destined lovers find each other and even increase fertility. I can sustain myself on worldly food if I so choose. But sometimes very pretty, very needy creatures will find me and I will taste them and if possible, help them.”

Eyebrows rising, Harry gave a weak, shaky grin. “Sorry to disappoint, Dren, but you are way out of your league here.”

Dren nodded, grinning wryly in return. “That may very well be the case. But I am hardly disappointed. And if you need my help, whether it is to talk or just touch your boy that you refuse to touch in real life, I am happy to be of service.”

Harry looked away, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. It was easier to think of the boy as a predator, just seeking touch and sex in exchange for a meal. But if Dren thought of himself as some damn good Samaritan love token, it just made him feel like a pity case.

As if reading the many thoughts swirling in his cloudy green eyes, Dren suddenly pushed Harry back against the door again, growling heatedly in his ear. “Believe me, pretty one, it is not an offer I extend to just anyone. I will not touch your little classmates, nor even the object of your affection—Although I know very much how you might wish me to,” he drawled, Harry smirking wickedly as he remembered Draco glaring his lookalike down.

“There is that scent again. It is reminiscent of your boy but so heady,” Dren remarked, pulling away from Harry and straightening the brunette’s pants back into place. “It is almost as if you have made a scent to call him since you so clearly do not listen to his.”

Harry’s grin faded, his mind again drawn to the madness induced pleas of Draco before he had stunned himself. “Dren, I want to be alone.”

Dren nodded, pulling away so Harry could step around him and sit on the bed. Harry didn’t bother to look up, not wanting to see any version of Draco in that moment. Eventually the door shut and he could relax, slumping sideways on the bed, arm braced carefully on his side.

“God, you’re a fuck up, Potter,” Harry whispered, staring blankly at the texture of interwoven threads of the sheets. Wasn’t it bad enough falling for some veela halfling? Now he just had to start transferring onto some other lust creature. It he wasn’t careful, he was just going to fuck Dren up too.

Anyone that got too close to him became fucked up, Malfoy worst of all. He was more an infection than the damn rogue, his sickness subtle and insidious until no one was happy anymore, just full of pain whenever they looked at him.

He had become very good at making his mind blank the last year. He had figured out how to shut all the voices up, all the questions and worries and desires that swirled so madly inside. It didn’t stop the crazed feeling but it did stop the thoughts, and that was good enough. Every word Draco had said, pain and need tinged, every burning desire he had felt, every small, teasing point of shimmery contact so reminiscent of that night; Harry silenced it all. His fear, nearly tangible that he might have destroyed Draco by being so distracted and careless in the forest, letting the rogue and wolf catch them unaware—He silenced that as well. And if his heart still ached, full of pain and unbearable need for the damn beautiful Slytherin, he had learned to numb and harden that with even greater ease.