Summary: Gabriel had everything. Perfect looks, wealth, talent and power. The perfect life, or so Draco believes. But little does he know, that the innocent Gabriel's life is far from what he thought. Not that his own is a piece of cake when he's the demon heir.
Warnings: Hard M. This is a fic where male slash is the predominant pairing. (Meaning guy on guy stuff.) Incest-ish, Paedophilia, non-con (rape), dub-con (questionable consent.) swearing, violence. AU. I'd say the characters are somewhat OOC. (Possible main character death.) I have forewarned you, take them all seriously.
This is a very twisted love story, so read at your own risk.
It involves much self contemplation to actually understand. I wrote this intending it to be something where the reader must do some serious thinking and slowly piece things together. (It is both far more complicated than Crossroads, my other story and yet also simpler. So if you don't get that, chances are you won't get this.) For those that were able to follow along last time this story was up—it will be no different. I decided to leave the original exactly as it was.
Eventual Draco/Harry but until then, there will be others. (Not too detailed.)
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, written purely to entertain myself and (hopefully) a few others. The world and characters belong entirely to J.K. Rowling, (OC's excluded) and I lay no claim to them whatsoever!
The book of lost things
Prologue
Faith
I can't recall exactly, the date that it happened. I was young, but I do remember glancing out the window and finally realising that he wasn't coming. That the promise meant nothing to him. It wasn't anything but empty, meaningless words. Said solely for the benefit of keeping me quiet. To continue believing in him.
Actually, I think I was five.
---
Harry hated that he was to attend a different school. A school in his birth country, granted. But he hadn't set foot on British soil since he'd left as a baby and now he was back and being shipped off to yet another boarding school. One of the most prestigious and expensive... one for the elites. Possibly the best school to hone his natural magical talents... and he hated it.
Even if was his own fault. There was no one else to blame for his current situation. The young green-eyed teen had purposefully been disobeying his guardian's command for some time now. Gradually toeing the line and extending his rebellion a little at a time and now, he was paying the price for his disobedience. He was being forced to leave the school which had become his home for the past eight years and made to attend another school so very alien to him.
A school closer to Him.
Though, the thirteen year-old had to admit that this school was nothing if not very impressive in appearance. True, Hightres, his last school in France, was far from mediocre. It had been huge, very high-tech and looked to be more an institute or perhaps even a modern hospital than an actual school. The majority of the place had been made of glass and steel, it was retro whereas Whitecliffe seemed like something that may jump out at him from a history book or a even a fantasy novel.
The grand structure was definitely old. A castle made up of turrets and towers and battlements. All slate coloured and worn but still highly impressive.
Harry had also been told—on numerous occasions—that his father had attended this very school and so had his mother. Though Harry never got very much more information than that, but that was enough to make the youth curious.
Stepping quietly from the chauffeured car, Harry studied the scene before him.
Actually, he wouldn't have minded attending the school at all if he still had his parents but he didn't. They had died years ago when Harry was only a baby, leaving him in the care of their close friend. Although, Harry was never permitted to call the man by his name and only ever allowed to address him as Sir.
In all honesty, from what his guardian had said of Harry's father, the boy couldn't see how on earth the two men had come to like each other at all. They couldn't possibly be any more opposite than they were and yet, somehow they had become the best of friends.
"Gabriel!" Called the lovely, deep voice of Cedric Diggory.
Harry really hated being called Gabriel, too.
What had his parents been thinking when they named him? Although, he would admit that the name was a lovely one. He just didn't think it suited him too well. It sounded far too feminine for his liking.
"Yes?" He inquired, his voice lilted ever so slightly.
"C'mon Gabriel," Cedric beckoned, his voice too contained hints of a French accent. "At least you'll have Wood and me, right?" He heaved one of Harry's excessively heavy trunks from the large Rolls Royce that was parked in front of the stairs. Harry assumed they led to the Foyer of the school.
The sable-haired boy sighed in both frustration and defeat. "Would you at least call me Harry? You know how much I hate being called Gabriel—"
"Because it makes you 'sound like a girl,'" Cedric quoted back, with a roll of his eyes. "Yes, I know. And no matter how much you deny it, I will still stand by the fact that you suit the name Gabriel as opposed to 'Harry'. Even Harris would be better than that."
Harry glowered darkly at the ruggedly handsome older boy. They were close friends. One of Harry's only friends, actually. Well, that and his body guard of sorts. Both Oliver Wood and Cedric Diggory were specifically chosen by his steward to protect him from others that may want to take his magic—or try.
"Why do I even put up with you?" Harry groused, with a tiny shake of his head. He pulled his satchel from the back seat of the car.
"Because you'd miss us both terribly," Oliver Wood said, in his thick Scottish tongue. He appeared in the doorway to the school and quickly went to assist in the unpacking of the car.
"Of course," Harry muttered and slung his satchel over his shoulder.
"Ready Harry?"
The youngest of the three sighed once more. "As ready as I'll ever be," he murmured softly and gave the attractive Scot a smirk. "After you, gentlemen," he intoned imperiously with a grand gesture to the door. Cedric shot Harry a small, encouraging smile while Oliver chuckled openly.
"Where are these to go?"
"Follow me," Oliver said, he he hauled yet two more trunks from the car and set out for the school's entrance doors.
Peter, the chauffeur, nodded to the boys as they left the car behind.
"So, what do you think of your new school, Harry?" Oliver asked, knowing the boy preferred the nickname to that of his given.
"Dull and grey," the youngest of the three replied, keeping the truth of his thoughts to himself. The place was far from dull and grey. It was exactly what he would have expected from an actual medieval castle. Rich with tapestries and gorgeous paintings and fine art. He briefly wondered how the place had remained so... untouched. Surely more than half the stuff should have been nicked by now?
"Still upset about the change in scenery?" Cedric queried. "I had thought that you'd have wanted to see the school your parents attended. I mean, I know I would. Think of this as an opportunity."
"Diggory, give it a rest," Oliver muttered with a small smile. "I think Harry is merely mourning the loss of his freedom."
Cedric nodded and the three proceeded to the Foyer just as Harry expected. He was greeted by a severe looking woman, with her hair pulled back from his face in a tight bun. She appeared to adore tartan clothing. The woman's piercing eyes gave the three a very stern once over.
"Misters..." her lip twitched a moment and she cleared her throat. "Gentlemen. The headmaster was wishing to see you all immediately. Leave you're things here, they can be collected on your way back. We will then discuss your dorms and classes."
The woman gestured to the door just to the side of the desk.
All three boys slipped through the door into the headmaster's room without further prodding. Harry felt more than a little apprehensive of the impending meeting. Anyone who had that woman as a second in command had to be worse then her, right?
He had heard stories of Dumbledore but never seen him. The man was meant to be extremely powerful. He was well known for the defeat of the great demon Grindwald and numerous other uprisings. However, he hadn't been able to stop the rise of Voldemort one of the strongest demons now known to the human race and apparently, his heir, Draco Malfoy also attended this school.
So perhaps the old man was no longer strong enough to stop what was happening around him as he once had?
Carefully, Harry peered into the headmaster's room, unsure what to expect.
The man that they met next wasn't anything like what the trio had imagined. He was old, with long white hair and a beard but worst of all, if Harry could claim that the previous teacher had a decent fashion sense, this man's was positively horrible. He was decked out in a bright purple business suit, with florescent yellow stars adorning it and a clashing bright orange and green tie that wasn't even put on straight.
Harry felt himself being sick. This man had been one of his child-hood idols.
"I trust you're journey was well, gentlemen?" The jovial old man asked.
"Quite, well Sir. Thank-you," Cedric replied, the first it seemed to wake from the headmaster's garment-induced stupor.
"Please, take a seat. Sherbet lemon?"
The teens seated themselves on the available seating, whilst politely declining the proffered sweet.
"Indeed," the old man nodded, a bright smile adoring his face. "Now to the point, I think. It is halfway through the first term so the adjustment time may take a little longer than usual. As it is, we do not usually accept students so late into a term but, you three are a special case. I understand that your studies shouldn't suffer too much. That you were already at the top of your class when you left."
"That's right, Sir," Harry agreed with a slight nod, speaking for the other two seated on each of his sides.
Again, the old man nodded. "Might I inquired as to why you have all transferred now?"
Both Cedric and Oliver appeared uncomfortable but remained quiet as Harry again spoke on their behalf.
"My guardian wanted the best education for me that money could buy," Harry replied easily, "and didn't believe I was getting that at Hightres. So I was sent here. I can only assume that the same can be said of both Cedric and Oliver?"
The headmaster nodded, though Harry could clearly see that he was working something out. The expression on his face was far too bright. He was going to have to keep an eye out on the man. It wasn't that he didn't trust him, he was just slightly odd but still, he couldn't start messing in Harry's business. Or even his guardian's. Harry knew that his steward would be extremely miffed were Dumbledore to start interfering in their life.
--xXx--
"My eyes!" Exclaimed Oliver, theatrically. He hitched his burden up."The image has been burned into the back of my retinas!"
"Oh shhh, it wasn't that bad," Harry said dismissively, while he followed behind Cedric as they wove down and about the halls.
"Are you kidding? It wasn't bad, it was worse!"
"Argh, whatever. Just quit with the whining for a bit, would you? Sometimes you'd think I was the eldest of us three."
Cedric smirked at Harry over his shoulder. "You are far more serious than most thirteen year-olds should be," the boy conceded. He looked down to the map of the school layout. "There should be a stairs case around here that leads to the Gryffindor dorms."
Harry groaned, "Gods, everything looks the same," he said, almost certain he had seen that exact same patch of wall more than once already.
"We should be thankful that everyone's still in class," Oliver murmured, finally coming down from his high. "Imagine how much harder things would be then?"
"We could ask for directions then," Harry pointed out and sighed. Then he plopped himself down on the floor. "I know, I'll stay here and you guys can come back once you've found my room."
"Get up," the Scot intoned, wearily. "If I must suffer through this, so must you."
"I think this is it," Cedric announced as he eyed a large stairway, a little ways off from Harry and Oliver. "Gryffindor tower."
Eagerly, Harry bounded up and over to his other friend. "It does look like the one in the map," he admitted. Frowning a moment, he made his way up the stairs, followed closely by both his companions.
The room he was greeted with was homely. All deep crimson and gold in colour and circular in shape. With comfortable looking sofas and ottomans scattered about. There was the odd table and of course, the large fireplace that was burning brilliantly away.
"Well, isn't this darling?" Cedric asked as he glanced about.
Harry snickered and glanced up through his fringe to peer at the other. "Darling?" He questioned, amusement infusing his tone.
"Don't mock me, Angel," Cedric murmured and ducked as Harry took a swing at him. "All right, all right, I won't call you angel."
"You had better not," Harry threatened, though it was without heat.
"Children, please," Oliver intervened as he dodged between the two. "Harry no hitting Cedric, you know what a big baby he is." The latter opened his mouth only to produce an indignant sound. "And Cedric you should know better than calling Harry 'Angel' you know how much he detests that name."
Harry glared and plopped down into one of the many seats. "What do you think about that... Sorting test we did?"
"I still think the way they have this school split into quadrants is ridiculous," Oliver replied instantly. "The way our school was sorted seemed so much better. But to sort us all by our magical ability... and personality. Actually, Cedric, how did you get into Gryffindor, I'd have sworn you'd end up in Hufflepuff."
"Actually, so did I," Cedric conceded, not taking his friend's words as a insult.
"It was probably all based on me," Harry answered with a shrug, earning the attention of both his friends. "You had to share the same dorm as me, even if there are a few years difference between us, you guys wouldn't be able to share a dorm if we weren't in the same house and if we did, everyone would question it more than they will already."
"Never knew logic was a strong point of yours, Gabriel," Cedric grinned, light heartedly.
"Come on," Oliver intervened with a heartfelt sigh. "We still have to unpack out things and then shower and change before we start our new classes."
"We have to find our room first," Harry felt the need to point out as he gestured to yet another set so stairs that spiralled up near the fireplace.
"This place is almost as bad as Hightres," Oliver muttered in complete disgust, looking truly upset.
"You're just lazy," Harry said with a roll of his eyes and ascended the stairway.
The trio were sharing a room at the top of the tower. It was one of the private suites usually reserved for guests, although Harry assumed his steward had paid very highly to secure the place for him and his guards.
"This isn't so bad," Cedric murmured as he dropped all his trunks. "Not quite what we're used to at Hightres, but not awful, either."
"I beg to differ," Oliver muttered as he sank down on Harry's bed. "Harry want to switch beds with me?"
"No."
"Spoil sport."
Harry skilfully dodged a pillow as Oliver threw it at him.
The youngest glanced around at his new resting chambers. The room wasn't exactly up to his standards but Cedric was right, it could have been far worse. The beds were large and comfortable, there was a modest fire place and suitable drawers and wardrobes for their clothing. And if Harry's suspicions were right about the random door next to the fire place, they also had a private, if small, bathroom.
"I'm having a shower," he announced to the room at large, snatching up his new uniform he marched through the door to checkout the bathroom.
--xXx--
Neville Longbottom was the name of the boy who was sent to fetch him for his first class. Potions. It turned out and as it happened, one of his favourite classes. However, said class was also located within the deepest parts of the school. The deepest and coldest and since it was already starting into winter, the air was positively freezing.
"Careful of the Slytherins," Harry's nervous guide warned him. "Our teacher favours them and they have a tendency to play pranks on us. Especially Malfoy. He's the worst of the lot and since he's teacher's pet..."
Neville shuddered.
"Don't worry, Neville," Harry soothed, as the pair navigated down yet another set of corridors. "I'm sure I can handle him."
The shy boy gave Harry a disbelieving look. "You do know who Malfoy is, right?" He asked nervously and blinked at the other's piercing green stare.
"Of course," Harry nodded, along blithely. "Voldemort's heir; The Great Draco Malfoy."
Neville gave a startled yelp.
Harry turned to his companion, fearing the boy had somehow managed to injure himself. He just came off as that type of person, and considering their location it was a very likely possibility. "What's the matter? Did you hit something?"
"You, y-you aren't..."
The transfer student frowned. "What? I can't understand you."
"V-vol."
"Voldemort?" Harry cut in with a frown, trying to get to the bottom of Neville's sudden problem. "What about him?"
"What the poor bloke is tryin' ta ask is whether of no' you support him," interrupted a sandy-haired Irishman. "The name's Seamus Finnegan, by the way." He held out a hand which Harry shook casually.
"No I don't support Voldemort," Harry answered truthfully, causing both other boy's flinch. He frowned. "What's with you lot?"
"We never speak his name," Seamus whispered, carefully. His eyes darted around nervously. "They say that doing so is to bring his wrath down upon yourself."
"And yet I still live," Harry deadpanned.
Seamus scowled and pulled back a bit. "I just thought ta warn you," he muttered, bitterly. "I don't see why I even bothered now. Fine, see whether I help you when he decides ta ruin your pretty face."
"Who aren't you going to help if their pretty face is ruined?" Drawled a voice from the darkness.
Harry watched curiously as his two companions stiffened.
"Mind you're own business, Malfoy!" Someone growled, materialising out of no where. A bright, red-headed someone.
"What have I told you about telling me what is and isn't my business?"
Turning, Harry peered through the darkness and found himself staring into the striking face of Draco Malfoy.
He was tall and very lithely built. Quite pale in complexion, much like Harry himself and he had intense, quick-silver eyes but the most interesting feature of the boy, had to be his hair. It had to be bleached, as there was no way Harry could see that his natural colour could be so... colourless.
The other stared back at him just as intensely.
"Do you bleach you hair?" Harry found himself asking.
The redhead let out a mighty guffaw and the transfer student immediately discovered a hand clamped firmly over his mouth by Seamus, as the boy tried to manoeuvre him carefully away from the blonde's line of sight.
"No I don't bleach my hair," the blonde gave a slight sneer. He cocked his head inquisitively. "And who might you be?"
"Do you lot intend to loiter about outside my class?" Asked a a silken voice.
Immediately, the remaining students—the nameless red-head, Seamus, Neville, Harry and lastly Draco entered the dully lit room. As was expected, all along the walls was line with various jars of strange potions ingredients, though mostly Harry thought it was for show and to scare the wits out of the students that had this class.
"I'm not finished talking to you yet," came the warm whisper drawled into his ear.
Harry turned and gave Draco an odd look as the boy walked off and seated himself next to a dark-haired girl and a rather solid looking boy.
"Are you so dim-witted that you are unable to locate yourself a seat?"
The green-eyed boy knew that voice. His head snapped over to the source and into the sneering face of Severus Snape. Almost at once, the man's features morphed into incomprehension and what may have also passed as dread.
"Hello, Sir," Harry smiled, as he sauntered to the front of the class and inevitably, Severus.
The potions master instantly pinched the bridge of his nose and began muttering to himself. "I am your professor, you insipid child," he said quietly once Harry was in earshot. "You will treat me as such while in the classroom, do you understand?"
Harry nodded once, imperceptibly.
"Good, now introduce yourself to the class," the teacher intoned, with an air of boredom. "You are also to stay behind after class for your show of disrespect towards a teacher."
Turning on his heel, Harry faced the class. Noting all the faces fixed on his in rapt attention. With one last glance back at his professor and a roll of his eyes at that man, the Gryffindor focused on the other occupants of the class.
"Well, I've just transferred here from Hightres where I was schooled for the past eight years," Harry began, tapping a finger against his lip thoughtfully. "My two best friends transferred with me, though both are fifth year, students..." he grinned a little. "Potions happens to be one of my favourite classes due to a wonderful tutor I once had—"
"What were you really tutored in?" Someone rudely called out.
Harry promptly turned a flattering shade of pink. "Not what you're insinuating, I assure you," he replied, smoothly.
"That's it," Severus interrupted. "Take a seat."
"He hasn't even given us his name," pointed out a bushy-haired girl from the Gryffindor side of the room.
"I'm H-Gabriel," Harry replied, only a little sheepishly. "Gabriel Black."
--xXx--
So in the end I left all as it was.