Title: The Seven Plagues of Revelation

Rating: This is R – Do Not Read if you are NOT mature enough.

Pairing: Harry/Draco

WARNING: Slash. No like no read…honestly, if you haven't gotten it by now, I'm afraid there's little hope for you…

Summary: (slash) Sequel. Something wicked this way comes, and this time it may be too big for Harry to handle it, especially since he's trying to figure out what the mysterious markings around his head mean, how to get Hermione to open her eyes to reality, and what to do about Draco, who just won't give up…

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you may recognise.

Author's Note: Wow. This came out quicker than I anticipated. This is the sequel to 'Seven Wonders of the World', and it's going to focus on Harry's role in the things to come (i.e. Voldemort's evil mastermind plan of world domination), his relationships with various people and how they change etc. I want this to sort of be a 'coming of age' story. Also, sorry if the information about the plagues is wrong, I'm not religious, and I had a hard time sorting through pages of utter fanatic crap before I got something that resembled information. No offence. (And by the way, which idiot decided Europe was 'the seat of darkness' snorts what were they smoking?) So enjoy, and I'd love to hear from you.

REVIEW: You people inspire me. It's appreciated. But if you don't…there's not much I can do, eh?

Prologue:

Every morning, Harry wakes up early, much earlier than Ron does. Harry usually steps out of bed and puts on his sweat pants, before sneaking downstairs quietly. Depending on if the night before was a weekend night, he'll cover Hermione with a blanket as she continues to slumber downstairs on the couch, and pulls one or two big tomes off her.

Then he'll pad through the portrait and down the stairs, getting ready for his morning run around the lake. He's never seen anybody else do this, which is strange, considering Harry believes he's not the only person wanting to stay in shape…but he's never questioned it much.

When he comes back, he's usually craving for a hot shower to relax his aching muscles, and gets dressed afterwards, taking an early breakfast, with or without Hermione, depending on if she's awake at that time. They usually save food for Ron, who never quite manages to make it in time for breakfast.

It's a comfortable routine, and Harry has grown used, even fond of it over the years. When he's finally released after his last spell of dizziness, he's looking forward to picking it up again. And he does, the very next morning. He slips on his sweat pants, ties his hair back and walks downstairs. Hermione is sleeping on the couch, and Harry smiles at the picture his friend makes.

Draping a blanket over her, he takes a large book off her lap. 'Markings of the Occult'. Harry frowns, but he's never one to question Hermione's reading fodder. Stepping out of the portrait, he continues downstairs, slipping out of the door, where his routine is about to be drastically disrupted as he collides with a worn and tired potion master.

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"Potter." Snape inclined his head, and Harry nodded in return. The man was wearing rumpled robes, ripped in some places, and Harry could see bruises forming after a hard night's torture. He averted his eyes, knowing that though their relationship had improved marginally, there were still some things that one simply did not talk about.

Snape pushed past him, but turned before he went inside.

"Times are changing, Potter." Then he left.

Harry frowned and rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on as a result from the vision he missed the night before. Probably plenty of horrific ideas to feed his nightmares for a couple of weeks…he was glad he'd slipped and been unconscious.

As he ran, his mind repeated Professor Snape's ominous warning back to him, and Harry had no clue what it meant. He decided to head back, seeing as his head was too filled to be cleared anytime soon, but made his second collision of the day, this time with something large and feathery.

"Argh!" Harry spluttered as he almost swallowed a mouthful of owl. A reproachful hoot made him look up, and he gazed into wise, large eyes.

"Hedwig…little eager this morning?" he smiled at his pet, noticing the newspaper she carried in her beak. It was last night's Evening Hex, a newspaper that was getting quite an upsurge in popularity, due to the continued failings of the Daily Prophet. Hedwig had probably been unable to deliver it last night.

Sitting down on the front steps, Harry folded open the paper to be confronted with a screaming headline:

'MUGGLE WORLD SEIZED BY OUTBREAK OF DISEASE'

–London, muggles everywhere have been caught in a rising panic, as a mysterious illness claws about itself, taking casualties faster than a niffler can find money.

Victims have trouble breathing, and appear to be growing strange markings on their skin, like big black spots. Muggles in all parts of the world have reported experiencing these first symptoms, and people are watching out for any other signs that could notify victims.

The muggle ministry has enlisted the help of several wizarding officials to find the cause of this disease, as wizards do not, as of yet, seem affected by the mysterious ailment.

Due to recent developments, a connection between the cases and the resurrection of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named cannot be discarded, and some of the leading Aurors of today, such as Shacklebolt, and the notorious Mad-Eye Moody have been put on the case.

Any information regarding this illness, however insignificant it may seem, is very much appreciated, and can be delivered in person, or sent via owl, to the Ministry of Magic.

The Evening Hex sincerely crosses its fingers that this mysterious disease does not wish wizards as it's main course.

Harry blinked. Then he folded his paper and blinked again. Some gut feeling was telling him that this was what Professor Snape had been hinting at, but if Snape knew something, why on earth was he telling Harry?

Confused, he walked upstairs and pushed through the portrait. Hermione was just getting up; smiling at the blanket that covered her. As she saw Harry, she tensed up slightly, and Harry tried not to notice as he felt his heart constrict.

"Morning" he whispered softly, not looking at her.

"Good morning" she returned, a little hesitantly. Harry walked past her and dropped his paper.

"I'm not too sure about that. Read this and tell me what you think." He moved up the stairs to take a shower, but Hermione's voice called him back.

"Har?"

He looked at her expectantly.

"It's going to take time. It scared me. I need…space."

He gave her a sardonic look.

"We can't afford time, Hermione. I've been scared the last sixteen years of my life. The good guys don't get breaks. Not even the murderers among them."

And he left, not looking at her, not knowing how she would take the final comments. Not really caring, as the one person he really wanted to speak to was a Slytherin. And surprisingly, it wasn't even Draco.

AN:

THANKS TO -

CuriousDreamWeaver, Eadon, HonEySky, Benji's VIP, Ovens = friends, eminem4eva, Flammy, Usually Immaculate Aristocrat

For reviewing the Seven Wonders epilogue. You all rock. Multiple times over.