Title: Unleashed
Author: Englar
E-Mail: hothot___or_not@hotmail.com
Rating: R --- harsh language, sexual content, alcohol/drug usage, mild gore, homosexuality.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters, places, and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's Note: My my my… it has been a long time, hasn't it? Gees, I don't think I've written a fanfiction since FFN decided they were going to take down the musical groups section. As I've just stated, this is not my first piece. However, it is my first go at the Harry Potter fandom. I used to write O-Town fiction, way back when. I was quite successful, and I hope that I have not lost my touch.
Just to let you know a little about my self: my name is Elaine Rose. I'm currently sixteen (seventeen on October twenty-ninth), and am a senior at Jackson High School. My penname, Englar, is Icelandic for "angel". Before you assume that I either A) am from Iceland, B) speak the language fluently, or C) both, I should like you to know that I A) am not, and B) do not. I actually live in Ohio --- just an hour south of Cleveland. I'm a huge fan of the band Sigur-Rós, who are from Iceland (and sing all their songs in the language), which is how I know the few words I do. If you'd like to know more about me, you can visit my livejournal (the link is in my profile). It's friends only, so you won't be able to see much unless you, too, have a livejournal and add me as a friend.
Now, a little about this story: HEY! READ THIS! IT'S IMPORTANT! Alright, this story will be a little different (I hope). Instead of doing things normally, and sticking to what happens in the books, I decided to change things up a bit. None of the characters have magic powers. That's right… this is one of those Muggle-twist stories. So if you get thrown off, just remember this: It's not written how JK Rowling intended it to be. I could never write up to her standards, which is why she's the richest woman in England, and I've got $20.48 to my name, and I don't plan to try and re-write her material. So clear everything you know about Harry Potter from your mind except the characters' looks and/or personalities, and a couple locations.
Phew! If you've read all that, you're amazing. I won't ramble on this long in every chapter… just this one. I can't think of anything else to say except ENJOY and PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE COMMENT (constructive criticism is more than welcome).
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UNLEASHED
A Novel
Chapter One
© Englar, September 4, 2003
Does it make you feel inside, what you've never felt before? Does it make you feel inside, what you've never felt before? Does it make you feel inside, what you've never felt before? … What you've never felt before. … What you've never felt bef---
Harry Potter was jerked out of his trance by a sudden BAM, which was quickly followed by another one, and another, and still one more.
"Honestly, Malfoy." He sighed, shaking his head slightly and returning his gaze to the rain droplets flowing mercilessly down the thick glass, following the particularly large ones with his unnaturally green eyes. The source of the BAMs stopped banging his head against the crude stone wall long enough to shoot daggers at Harry, the black haired boy who was sitting as far away from him as was humanly possible. In all honesty, it couldn't have been more than a few feet---maybe 10---seeing as they were locked in a room together.
"Shut up, Potter." Draco Malfoy spat, still glaring with his equally unnaturally gray eyes. Harry had stopped paying attention to him, though, so he went back to banging his head against the wall in hopes of causing himself to pass out. He only did it once more, finally just letting his forehead rest upon the cold stone. He was curled up with his knees to his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around his legs. It was a position he always took when feeling anything less than normal. It was his way of blocking off the world, and all the people in it, except for himself of course.
He remained like that for what felt like at least 15 minutes, when he noticed the hairs sticking up at the nape of his neck. A shiver went down his spine as he recognized the eerie feeling of being stared at. Sighing, trying to recompose himself, he looked slowly over to his left. Harry Potter was sitting on the floor using the wall as a support, his legs stretched out in front of him, his head back slightly, his eyes closed, and his arms crossed in front of him. Draco stared menacingly at him for a few moments, absolutely positive Harry had been staring at him just moments before. A smirk played at the corner of the dark-haired boy's mouth.
"HA!" Draco said loudly, shifting his weight and pointing at Harry. Surprised by the sudden outburst, Harry jumped the tiniest bit. Recovering his cool composure, Draco drawled, "You were staring at me, Potter. Don't pretend you weren't."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes you do."
"If you say so, Malfoy."
"Well… I do." Draco said, slightly unnerved by Harry's submissiveness. Normally he'd be jumping at the chance for a fight, for a chance to vent his teenage angst onto Draco.
It was silent. The silence was considerably less comfortable than the one before it, if you could even call that comfortable. Growing restless, Harry stood up, brushed the dust off of his faded jeans, and walked over to the window. The rain was reduced to a slight drizzle and the sun even dared to try and break through the clouds. The light felt refreshing on Harry's face. He stared down at the school grounds, or at least what he thought were the school grounds.
"Where are we?" He asked, though it was more of a thought that slipped out of his mouth than an actual question.
"Well, I'm not sure where you are," Draco sneered, noticing the far-off look on Harry's face, "but I'm stuck in a bloody room with you, one bed, one window, a light bulb, and a door that won't open. So basically, I'm in hell."
Harry rolled his eyes. "No, you git, I mean, what part of the school are we in? I don't recognize anything outside at all. Do you think we're even still in the school?" He shot a downward glance at the blonde boy curled up near his feet. Their eyes met for a brief second.
"Why, Potter? Are you scared?" Draco smirked, cocking an eyebrow and bringing himself to his feet. He was determined to bring the anger out of Harry this time.
"Hardly."
Draco snorted.
"What?" Harry asked, turning so he was now facing Draco. If anyone happened to walk in they could not possibly have been met with a more different pair of boys. Both were just over sixteen and had bodies that could hardly justify their being referred to as boys. That, however, was where the similarities stopped. Harry was tan and extremely toned from the waist down, due to many, many hours of soccer practice over the summer. The rest of him was toned as well, but it was his abs, legs, and butt that really got the full effects of all those hours in the hot sun. Draco, however, was pale, but not in the sickly way. He was like a porcelain doll, except much meaner. Where Harry focused on his lower body, Draco focused on his upper. He played goalie on one of the school's soccer teams. Harry's hair was black and shaggy. The ends of it were threatening to form into a loose curl. It was constantly in his eyes. Most people would get so frustrated that they'd chop it off, but Harry didn't mind so much. There was nothing he could do about it, anyways. It grew way too fast for his own good. He had to cut it once a week just to keep it from trailing down the back of his neck. Draco's hair was platinum blonde and was always slicked back. It was as if he dared the wind to knock just one piece out of order, knowing full well it couldn't happen.
"What?" Harry repeated, viciously this time. Draco was staring at him. Straight at him. Harry hated it. He hated Draco. Instead of answering, the blonde boy looked out of the window and instinctively ran a hand over his head and rested it on the back of his neck.
"Well, it's quite obvious that we're still on school grounds." He said in a condescending tone. Harry scooted closer to Draco. Their shoulders touched. "Look, there's your bitch, Ron Weasley."
Maybe it was the closeness of the room, or maybe it was just the fact that he was stuck in there with Draco Malfoy, his archenemy, and had no clue how long Professor Umbridge would make them stay there, or maybe it was the fact that he still didn't know exactly why they had been put into 'Solitary Confinement' in the first place, but something inside of Harry caused his eyes to flicker with an emerald flame. Draco saw this. Harry and he had been in enough fights to know what this meant. He braced himself for the attack.
Harry grabbed Draco firmly by the shoulders and pushed him into the corner of the stone where the window jetted out from the wall as hard as he possibly could. The blonde head hit the stone with a sickening crack.
"Fuck, Harry!" Draco yelped, falling to the ground, holding his head. He couldn't remember what exactly he said to make Mr. Potter so upset, but whatever it was must've been pretty damn mean. Normally he'd just receive a punch in the stomach or face, and the occasional knee to his groin. All of these he returned to Harry shortly after, of course.
The back of his head was throbbing. He touched it gingerly. His fingers were wet and sticky. Blood. Harry Potter had made Draco bleed on his hair, his most prized possession right after what lies in the space between his legs. The dark-haired boy was standing over him, smirking at him, proud of his accomplishment. Filled with rage, Draco grabbed Harry by his ankles and pulled him down on the ground. Caught entirely by surprise, Harry landed flat on his back. The wind was knocked out of him for a few moments. When it came back, he rolled over on his side and gasped, struggling for breath.
"Nice try, Potter."
"Fuck off, Malfoy." Harry croaked.
"Not in front of you, Harry." Draco said, crouching down next to the boy and smiling at his perverted joke.
Harry grimaced. "That's sick." He paused a moment, and sat up, leaning back and putting all of his weight on his elbows. "That's the second time you've called me Harry since we've been in here."
"Is not." Draco said, his silver colored eyes looking anywhere but into Harry's emerald ones.
"Sure it is." Harry smirked, knowing he'd caught Draco. "Once just now, and once after I pushed you into the wall." Draco was nervous, Harry could tell. They never referred to each other by their first names. It was a formality saved for putting on an innocent showing in front of teachers, and for getting out of trouble by assuring whomever had almost caught them fighting that they were indeed getting along just fine.
"What's your point, Potter?" Draco asked, putting specific emphasis on 'Potter'.
"My point is," Harry said, pushing himself into a standing position and walking towards Draco. "That I don't think you really hate me as much as you say you do." Draco narrowed his eyes. Harry smiled inwardly. "You just like to play with me, don't you Draco? You just like to make me mad. I bet you get a rise out of it." He had started leading the blonde into a corner. With every step he lessened the distance between them. "I bet, late at night, when you think no one is watching, you jerk off to my anger." Draco snorted, but couldn't look Harry in the eye. "You masochist!" Harry snarled, pushing Draco the remaining few inches until he was cornered. Harry's body blocked him from running, even though he wouldn't have gotten far, considering they were still locked in.
Harry pressed his body against Draco's very lightly, but with enough force that it was more teasing than shy. He wasn't exactly sure what he was doing. The rage, confusion, and adrenaline was coursing through his body. He couldn't be held responsible for his actions.
Draco's body tensed as he heard the button of Harry's jeans clink with the button of his own. "W-what are you doing?" He asked, his voice quivering from confusion and fear. He'd been close to the Potter boy before, but only when they were wrestling and trying to beat the living crap out of each other.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" Harry asked, his voice ferocious. He braced his palms against the wall on either side of Draco and pressed his cheek lightly against his. He breathed a few heavy breathes into the other boy's ear, making sure Draco could feel his chest rising and falling with each dark pant. His voice husky and purposefully made to be boiling over with lust, he breathed, "Doesn't it hurt? Trick and control you? Deceive and destroy you? Doesn't it hurt, Draco?"
Before he knew what has happening, Draco Malfoy felt the crotch of his jeans tightening up. Harry smiled an evil smile. He'd got what he wanted. Green eyes met gray, and then a hand found it's way to the nape of Draco's neck, just below the spot where his hair curled up. Again, without knowing what was going on, Draco felt his head being pushed forward. Lips met lips. Well… almost. What happened could hardly constitute as a kiss. It was more like a gentle grazing to Harry. A vicious tease to Draco. Harry pulled away so that he could see Draco's entire face.
"You masochist." He sneered once more before kneeing Draco in the groin. Having done what he wanted to do, he retreated back over to where was sitting before getting up to look out the window, watching his nemesis writhe in pain.
"I hate you." Draco croaked a few minutes later, retreating back over to his side of the room, though his walk wasn't quite so confident anymore.
"I know you do, Draco Malfoy." Harry sighed, rolling his eyes. If he had a dollar for every time he'd heard that… "Believe me. I know."
-- SIX MONTHS EARLIER –
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
"Uggghmmm…."
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
"Ufftt… go away…"
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
"HARRY POTTER!" A shrill voice yelled from downstairs. "IF YOU DO NOT TURN OFF THAT INFERNAL ALARM CLOCK THIS INSTANT, I SWEAR—"
"ALRIGHT ALREADY!" Harry yelled back, groggily picking up the alarm clock and throwing it onto the floor. He rolled over in bed so that he was lying on his back. For a moment, he wished he wouldn't have thrown the clock on the floor. The time would be really useful right now. However, it was still dark outside, which—even without a clock—assured Harry that it couldn't be any later than 6:00 AM.
He groped his way blindly into the bathroom across the hall and turned on the light, squinting his eyes from the force of the sudden brightness. After he let his eyes adjust he put in contact lenses, which he had just started wearing that summer, as a surprise for Ron and Hermione, but mostly Hermione. They were his two best friends in the entire world. In fact, they were the only people he really could call his true friends. Sure, he was popular enough, but when it came down to true friendships, he had only three. The first two obviously being Ron and Hermione, and the third being his godfather, Sirius Black. Correction: his late godfather, Sirius Black.
"Oh God…" Harry sat on top of the closed toilet lid and curled up into a ball. He buried his head in his arms, which were wrapped around his knees. It was happening again. His breathing became shaky, and he could feel his eyes start to screw up. Ever since Sirius' sudden death back just a week before Harry got out of school last year, he would often get these sorts of panic attacks. They happened at very strange times, in very strange and often times uncomfortable places for those types of things to be happening, and just about anything could trigger them. Often times he found himself whimpering pitiful prayers. He wasn't religious, and honestly didn't even really believe that God existed, but at the time… it just seemed right.
"HARRY! Hurry up in there! Dudley's got to get in!" Vernon Dursely rapped sharply on the door with his large, red-chaffed fist. Harry jumped, thankful for the unintentional relief from crying. Harry stood back up, ran his fingers through his hair, put in a little bit of product so that his hair wouldn't become a completely frizzy mess by the time he got to school, brushed his teeth quickly, and hurried out into the hallway and back into his room. There he changed into a white wife beater and placed a blue plaid polo shirt made out of thin, smooth fabric, which was slightly wrinkled, over top of that. Seeing as he slept in the nude whenever he could risk it, he pulled on a pair of light blue boxers and over them a pair of stone washed jeans that hung innocently low on his hips. Harry examined himself in the full-length mirror he'd hammered to the back of his bedroom door. Never before had Harry cared so much about his looks, but this year, he did. He started to notice the change in the summer. The sudden self-awareness was too much at first, but he got used to it after a while, even started to enjoy it as the summer months began to draw to a close. He'd known he'd always been fairly good looking, but this year, when he strolled onto the platform of the train station to meet his friends and fellow classmates, he was sure they would consider him a little more than good-looking. After all, he did. So why shouldn't everyone else?
"HARRY!" He was being yelled at for the third time this morning. "HARRY! We're going to be late! Hurry up, pothead!" This time it was the whiney voice of Harry's sort-of-brother, Dudley Dursely.
"My my, Duddykins," Harry drawled, opening the door and dragging his trunk out of the room behind him. "If that wasn't the one hundred millionth time I'd heard that, I just might be insulted." He sent Dudley a proud look, smiling inwardly as the large boy in front of him squirmed when he used Dudley's mother, Petunia's, nickname for him.
"Don't call me that, Harry."
Harry looked thoughtful for a moment. "You're right. I think I favor Ikkle Dudeydumms much more." He gave his blonde relative a wink and lifted his trunk onto his shoulder, descending the stairs and humming happily to himself.
"Ready to go, Harry?" Vernon asked him, smiling at the thought of getting rid of the weird-o for almost another year. Harry nodded. "Right then. Out to the car we go!"
The ride to the train station was pretty calm. The sun was just starting to rise by the time the car pulled onto the highway. If it would have been any use to him, Harry would have taken his driver's test and gotten a license, so he could drive himself off to school. However, he knew Vernon and Petunia would not come up and pick his car up. He knew they would leave it sitting there for months on end, just waiting for it to be towed or broken into. He also knew they would not let him drive their car. It was very precious to them, and to even be allowed to sit on the leather seat itself and not on a towel over the seat was a miracle.
Harry checked his watch. 8:40 AM. In twenty minutes the train would be departing and Harry would be off to Hogwarts Finishing School and Boarding House. It was the best school in all of England. Before Harry's parents… or maybe they were his aunt and uncle… or possibly cousins… he really didn't know… anyways, before Lily and James Potter were killed in the car accident that gave Harry the fine, lightning shaped scar on his forehead, they had set aside an extremely large amount of cash to be fully devoted to Harry's tuition at Hogwarts. Top-notch schooling doesn't come easily you know, especially when that schooling takes place in an abandoned castle located high up in the mountains, just a few miles away from where they meet the sea. He was heading off to his sixth year. You had to be at least eleven years old to begin attending Hogwarts, and you stayed there until you were seventeen, only going home for a Christmas break (which was optional), and during the summer months (which was not optional, must to Harry's distaste). The school itself was broken up into four houses: Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw. Before entering the school every first year takes an extremely thorough personality and intelligence examination. The results of the test showed where you would be headed. Harry had been put into Gryffindor, the most coveted house of them all. Anyone put into Slytherin was given a bad reputation right then and there, for most of them were malicious and rather foul looking. Hufflepuff was probably the least coveted of the houses. No one in there was really anything special (the Ravenclaws were the extremely brainy types), and were often called upon to do the dirty work of people in the other houses. Harry could admit to using a few of the younger ones for "homework help" as he called it, which, in all reality, was Harry tricking a Hufflepuff first or second year into helping him with his homework and then leaving them to do it for him while he went off with his friends. He'd also used a few of the Hufflepuff girls in his own year and even a few seventh years for some sexual comfort. Desperate to be accepted, they had quite the reputation of being somewhat loose, and even though Gryffindors were supposed to portray a character of extreme nobility and respect, Harry couldn't help but take upon the task of accepting all of the better offers he received from the girls' dormitory of the Hufflepuff chambers. In fact, it was just that that had given Harry his well-admired, yet completely secret from anyone of any authority, reputation. He was a Gryffindor on the outside, but a Slytherin within. It gave him that bad boy attitude no girl—and a few guys—could ever resist.
"Goodbye Harry! See you in July!" Vernon and Petunia cheered, popping the trunk of the car so Harry could get his things out. He didn't even bother returning their overly-happy goodbye. Inside, he was jumping for joy. Summer was finally over. However, he never showed any emotion besides an empty scowl to the Durselys, so he just slammed the trunk shut and glanced over his shoulder once as they drove away and he walked towards Platform 9 ¾. A couple years before Hogwarts opened, Platforms 9 and 10 burnt down in a terrible fire. The city of London refunded the station, but only with enough money to rebuild one platform. So instead of trying to decide which one to rebuild, they just made one large platform where the other two used to be and named it Platform 9 ¾. Ever since then students had been stepping off of that platform and onto a train that would provide their only available means of transportation to Hogwarts.
"Blimey, Harry!"
Harry turned around, grinning from ear to ear. Ron Weasley was staring at him in disbelief.
"Hello to you too, Ron!" Harry laughed. They exchanged a meaningful, yet manly, hug.
"Wow… you… grew up!" Ron gaped. Harry laughed again, suddenly remembering that Ron hadn't seen him since he last left Hogwarts. The last his friends had seen of him he was shorter than most of his classmates, his skin was milky, as opposed to the healthy bronze color it was now, and his hair was a lot closer to his head. He also wore glasses, and his body wasn't nearly as toned as it was now. It wasn't unfit by any means, but what he had now was definitely an improvement.
Harry was about to comment on how Ron had grown up, too—for he really had. He was almost a head taller than Harry, making him almost 6'5 easily, but was shut up by a large hug which knocked him straight to the ground.
"Harry!"
"Hermione!" Harry beamed. It seemed that everyone had done some growing over the summer. He gave Hermione a gentle kiss on the lips, and then hugged her tightly, neither of them bothering to stand up. Ron smiled to himself and handed his and Harry's luggage to the uniformed man who was asking for it.
"I missed you so much!"
"I know, Hermy." Harry smiled, fondly using a nickname one of their teachers had come up with for the curly haired brunette. It was a name only Harry was permitted to use. "I missed you too!"
"Damn the Durselys for not letting you come for a visit."
Harry chuckled. "Yeah well, you know how they are." He rolled his eyes. As he was doing this he noticed a certain blonde haired boy strut onto the platform. He was laughing at Harry with those steely eyes of his. "Malfoy." He said, in a voice so low it was barely audible.
"Well, well, well… what do we have here, Mr. Potter?" Draco was leaning over him and Hermione, who hadn't yet bothered to get up off of the ground.
"None of your business, Malfoy!" Hermione hissed. Harry winced. She may have been the most intelligent girl in school, but wit was definitely not her strong point. Draco raised his eyebrows in amusement. Harry lightly pushed the girl off of him, stood up, and then reached out his hands to help Hermione.
"I must say, Potter, you certainly have grown." Draco said, looking Harry up and down. "What a big boy we're becoming, eh?"
"You've noticed then?" Harry smirked, following Draco's eyes as they wandered over his body. There was a moment of silence. Harry felt a little uncomfortable and completely caught off guard. He was expecting a quick witted retort from Draco immediately following his question, not dense silence between the two. With an almost unnoticeable shake of his head, which he disguised as trying to get his hair out of his eyes—just in case—he shook any thoughts that didn't ooze confidence out of his head. He clamped a hand onto Draco's shoulder and said loud enough for only those closest around them to hear. "Better not stare too long, Malfoy, or we might actually find a part of your body bigger than your head."
Harry left Draco with his trademark wink and cocky smile before rejoining his friends and stepping onto the train, hardly prepared for what would await him in the year ahead.