Title: Second Time's a Charm
Author: SlytheringAeval
Chapter : Prologue
Pairings: Harry/Draco, others as story progresses
Rating: Pg 13 to R
Genre: Romance/Humor, with just enough Angst to keep the fluff bunny at bay
Disclaimer: I do not make any money off of this, I do not own this, nor do I claim to. All characters herein belong to J.K Rowling and no infringement is intended. It's all in good fun, honest.
"Minuo Adficio!"
"Avada Kedavara!"
The Dark Lord's curse rang out at the same time that Harry Potter flung himself to the side, body twisting in the air to fire off his own curse. Red snakes of energy lashed out even as green coiled wildly through the charged space of combat. Harry had an instant to see Voldemort jerk back from the force of his spell before he was flung backward, back cracking painfully into the heavy stone of the wall behind him. The young wizard lay crumpled on the floor, eyes clamped shut as he resisted the urge to throw up from the pain.
It wasn't for several seconds that he registered the ringing silence, that he realized the only sound in the room was his own labored breathing. Even after becoming aware of this fact it took him several more minutes to realize that he wasn't being cursed into oblivion where he lay.
As the idea took root in his mind he carefully cracked one eyes open, raising a hand to keep his blood from dripping into his eye. With painful slowness he levered himself up into a sitting position, wincing as every movement pulled at cuts that covered his battered form. Blood seeped into his clothing, dampening his skin with it's warm trickle. Harry didn't bother trying to take stock in the various gashes he had received through the battle. He used the wall to pull himself to his feet, and hugging the same wall for support he walked toward the fallen body of the evil bastard who had made his life a living hell.
Pale skin was gray, and glowing eyes were now dull and empty red. Voldemort was finally dead. Harry swayed where he stood. If he weren't currently bleeding to death, the brunette mused in a moment of morbid humor, he'd have felt cheated at how very anticlimactic it all felt. As it was he simply felt drained.
Harry bent to down to pick up the wand he'd dropped after being hit by Voldemort's final curse, nearly falling over in a wave of dizziness. He shook his head as he straightened up, trying to clear away the gray that danced at the edge of his vision. On shaky legs he made his way to the door. There was, he decided grimly, no way in hell he was going to die in the same room with the corpse of his parents' murderer.
Eventually he managed to wobble into the next room. His eyes landed on the pale form lying on its side, and any humor he could have found in the situation evaporated. Blond hair splayed against the cool gray marble, tips turning red from where the almost black pools blood. The ornate handle of a sword was still sticking out from his chest, exactly as he'd found Draco minutes before his final battle with Voldemort began.
"Hey Draco, we did it. It's over. It's all over," he blinked back tears. "I just wish-" Harry sank to his knees beside his long time rival and, ultimately, his friend and partner. Perhaps if they'd had more time, they could have been something else as well, but that was impossible now. And he'd never know if there was anything more to those last few weeks they had shared. I just wish things could have happened differently.
The room dipped violently, and Harry flung out an arm to catch himself. Darkness swam up, claiming him, and then he fell, legs tangling in soft cotton bed sheets. He jerked violently, struggling to free himself, but he ended up on the floor, all of the blankets on his bed falling on top of him.
He pushed the blankets away from his head and crawled out from underneath the tangle, skittering back until he smacked into a flimsy wooden armoire that rattled dangerously as he collided with it. In fact he had to fling out both arms to balance it so it didn't fall on top of him. Sunlight danced across a tiny space, displaying a familiar if somewhat blurry sight. Harry reached out with one hand toward the fuzzy desk that was to his right, close to the bed he had just fallen from. He found the thin wire frames of his glass, and he fumbled them onto his face with a sense of dread.
Harry was back in his bedroom at Privet Drive. The plain walls were decorated only by his school banners and the drawn pictures he had hanging up to try and personalize his space a bit. Harry sat there clutching his chest and trying not to hyperventilate over the fact that he was once more in Privet Drive, though he hadn't darkened the Dursley's doorstep in nearly a decade.
Standing up he caught sigh of himself in the mirror over his dresser. Moving forward slowly, he raised his hands, watching the hands in the mirror do the same. Touching his lip, his cheeks, the mirror copied the movement exactly proving that he truly was staring at himself. But it wasn't right. That couldn't be right. The reflection in the mirror was him, but it was him when he was younger, not as he was when he had entered Malfoy Manor to battle the Dark Lord.
"But…I died. I remember dying," he whispered, fingers still exploring his face. He was no longer the twenty six year old Chosen One, Leader of the Light. In his place stood the Boy-Who-Lived once more. "What's going on? Am I going to have to live with the Dursley's again? And defeat Voldemort all over? And puberty! Once wasn't enough?! It's not fair!" he practically wailed in his young voice, wincing as his voice nearly cracked.
"No, calm down. There has to be a perfectly reasonable explanation for this. Even if there's not this is you we are talking about and you do tend to get caught up in weird shit. Ok, ok, so this isn't real. This isn't real. You killed Voldemort, and died, and now you're… in Hell! You're in Hell, and if you open the door you will step into a fiery inferno of eternal agony and doom. So, cheer up Harry." He frowned. "Hang on a minute…"
"Boy! Is that you making a ruckus up there? Come make breakfast!"
Harry stuck his head out the door to find himself facing ugly mint green wall paper that sported a rather fetching picture of a blond beached whale in a dressy vest. Oh wait, that was just a picture of his oversized cousin Dudley. Raising his brows Harry pulled back inside the room to shut the door.
"So much for that theory."
Chapter end notes: This fic is just a little something I need to get out my system so I can focus on the story I'm currently working on. Oh and don't worry about the curse at the beginning, it'll be explained in a later chapter.