So, this was originally for CreatureFest 2011, and it... Never got completed. Nor turned in... So, here it is now, in chapter form, and it will hopefully be completed while me and Syl try to battle our crazy schedules and finish up Aresto Momentum, the sequel to the fic on my account, Wingardium Leviosa.
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Pairing: Draco/Harry. Drarry.
Prompt #: 28.
Rating: M/NC 17.
Word Count: N/A at the moment. (N/A ATM.)
Summary: Mother always told me... Don't talk to strangers, get water and come straight home. I never listened. Almost four years after the destruction of the Wizarding World, a beast lurks in the night, and haunts those who claim shelter in the new, secluded village of Little Whinging. But, their peaceful life is about to be shattered. Murders are escalating, hearts are being torn, and sacred bonds are beginning to be formed between two unlikely people. Themed after Red Riding Hood, 2011 release.
Warning(s): Gay relationships, Male/Male sex, murder, blood, maybe even a little gore. (Not much.) Not Epilogue compliant! Dumbledore has not died, neither has Regulus Black. Character Deaths.
Beta: ...Myself? It was going to be Syl, but... Yeah. XD
Disclaimer: This piece of art or fiction is based on characters 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, no copyright or trademark infringement, or offence is intended. All characters depicted in sexual situations are above the age of consent.
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Prompt.
Film: Red Riding Hood (recent release)
Creature: Werewolf.
Pairing: Harry/Draco.
Era: Post-Hogwarts.
Additions: Wormtail's silver hand, Deluminator, a staff.
Scenario: I'd like to see Draco in the role of Valerie with Harry being the one he loves (Peter).
Squicks: Major character death (Harry or Draco), non-con, infidelity.
Maximum Rating: Up to NC17.
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Characters:
Valerie: Draco Malfoy.
Peter: Harry Potter.
Henry: Blaise Zabini.
Cesaire, Valerie's father: Lucius Malfoy.
Lucy, Valerie's sister: Pansy Parkison.(She is like a sister in this story.)
Suzette, Valerie's mum: Narcissa Malfoy.
Adrien Lazar, Henry's father: Regulus Arcturus Black. (He did not die yet.)
Madam Lazar, Henry's mother: Mrs. Zabini.
Grandmother, Valerie's: Andromeda Tonks.
Solomon: Dumbledore. (In this story he has not died yet.)
Father Auguste, Daggerhorn's Priest: Percy Weasley.
Roxanne, local... whore: Ginny Weasley.
The Reeve, Grey Wolf slayer: Ron Weasley.
Captain, the leader for Solomon: Kingsley Shacklebolt.
Prudence, Valerie's best friend: Crabbe.
Claude, Prudence's brother: Goyle.
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Just a note: Anything in italics is a flashback, obviously except those few occasional words splattered through sentences.
During the flashbacks, there might be sentences that are not in italics, that means that they are Draco's thoughts from the present, not the past.
Sorry if it's confusing. I normally don't write First Person. Tried something different without realizing it till I was halfway done with the beginning. XD
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The only life I want.. is with you.
Green... that is the only colour you seem to see as you travel farther and farther away from London, farther and farther away from civilization. Red, is the colour that is splayed across freshly fallen snow... the colour of spilt blood.. and the softest fabric.
After the war, the Wizarding World fell to ruins. Unable to shake the fear, the bone-chilling thought, that the Dark Lord would soon rise to power again and wipe away what was left of their home... it left London, and the rest of the Wizarding populace destroyed. Communities spilt, whole families disappeared over night, and most fled to the Muggle world, forgoing magic completely in fear of being hunted and slaughtered.
Beasts prowled the nights now, in Wizarding London- Hogwarts lay in shambles, decimated and rumored to be haunted by the very ghosts that once traveled its hallowed halls. Hogsmeade wasn't so much a place to spend the day with friends, as a hovel- crumbled and corrupt- to haggle and steal for supplies to protect yourselves from the beasts- the horrifying monsters that lurked in the shadows, and in the alleys so many children once played, beasts that ruled the night and haunted dreams, haunted nightmares.
Diagon Alley, once a place of pure magic, a home to so many, was now more in a sorry state; filled to the brink with wizards and witches seeking safe shelter from the moon, from the creatures that befell the terrible nights wind.
Little Whinging... Yes, I know you've heard of it. This is where our story takes place. A little town on the edge of Wizarding London, forgotten and reeking with decimation, befallen after the war. Overgrown with trees, it became a little village for the wizards and witches that once called it home. It is now a nightmare. A beast lurks behind those shrouded trees, those fallen branches, eyes watching... and waiting... waiting for those stupid and fool-hearty enough to be out on a 'wolf-night.'
For those in the war that had been cold, they became a little more open, a little more prone to showing their faces in the light of day, signs of war edging across their aristocratic faces. What side you were on didn't matter so much anymore... But, what side of the door you were on in the middle of a night when the beast came lurking, did.
But, for those that had been open in the war, harried and light of heart, they became a little more cold- brittle and cruel, fool-hearty to the fact that a monster hunted their children and let blood splatter their worn-wood doors. They were afraid, most terrifyingly so, and it made them aggressive- afraid of the beast that comes in the night- snatching them in their sleep, or Merlin forbid, their children. They were aggressive with their fear, channeling it to try and make themselves stronger, less weak of heart, at the sound of the bells that rang when another one of them was killed.
I remember when Little Whinging was once made as a village; created in haste, in quiet and secret but none-the-less in broad daylight, my mother had spoken to me, telling me to forget our past, to move on, to stay safe...
"Don't talk to strangers. Go get water, and come straight home."
We lived as peasants now. Old pure-blood ties and Muggle-born traitors lived as one in this village, this hovel. But it didn't mean that we were any less different than our neighbor. The war had torn us all, created bonds that ones didn't know they had in another and made enemies of old friends that thought they could rely on. I remember the first time I met him, after the war was done and everything had settled, for the most part anyhow. He was exhausted, the war had done him no justice; but it didn't mean that Harry Potter hadn't aged gracefully. At twenty-two, a simple three and a half years after the downfall of the war, Harry Potter was thriving. He led the village of Little Whinging with a firm, solid hand, one that went unmarried for the first year the village was upheld. A strong face and a mass of disheveled hair, the colour of the dirt their feet walked every morning, Harry Potter was as graceful as he was unheard of. After a year, the little village fell, burning to the ground with unholy abandon; it was haunted. Cursed by a beast that set out only once every fortnight, hoarding the best livestock Little Whinging had to offer, laid out like a feast, the village remained in ruins, too afraid to come out of their homes, their shelters. Harry Potter didn't rise to power again. It was disgusting to see, but it was our lives now none the less.
We live on the edge of a dark forest, few knew our village by name. But, many had heard of the terrible things that happened there.
I remember when we first created the new, quieter village, and my parents had been forgiven of their crimes... My mother, when telling me to go get water, when telling me to not talk to strangers... I don't think she intended for me to run into Harry Potter himself, head first, and quite literally at that.
I tried to be a good boy.. I really did.
"Ow!"
"O-Oh! I am so sor- Malfoy?" A voice gasped in disbelief, shock wavering in the tone as if something, some form of a legend, was seen but it had not processed with the brain just yet. Yes, yes I suppose you could call the bright 'Malfoy blonde hair' a legend. ...Me and my family mostly stayed indoors, I suppose. No matter how forgiving the village of Little Whinging could be, we still carried fears of being mistreated, still carried fears of being burned, or beaten... those tattoos still itched.
"Watch where you're goin-" I paused, my heart stopping in my throat. "Potter?" I rubbed my head where his bucket collided with my skull, grabbing the handle of mine and standing up, not bothering to dust the dirt off my knees. It's not like these pants were tailored anymore, not since after the war... not since after the beasts had decided to come out of hiding... decided to slaughter and murder like the haunted creatures that they were.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't-"
"See me. Yes, it's ok, Potter. Just jam your bucket into my skull like the common folk we are, all brute force and living like common filth." Even at that point, after only living in Little Whinging for the better part of a year, did I know that no one, not even myself cared that we had to hunt for food, that we had to hide at night and act like nothing more than a common house-rat.
Now, I can tell you from past experience that I know what a common House-Elf feels; minus the fact that they enjoyed this type of treatment. But, I can say that I do, for a fact, enjoy living.
"...I forgot how much of a prat you were, Malfoy. Do you mind, ya' know, moving? So I can get some water?" It was then that I noticed the blood that stained Potter's hands and his grimy trouser legs, sticking out against the worn and faded black pants that he wore, pressing the fabric against once Quidditch-toned legs.
Now, if my brain reminds me correctly, Potter, as well as the Weasley spawn were all wood-choppers for the village. Oh joyous me, I didn't work. Mother didn't see it fit that someone of such.. pure-blooded grace should have to work. I honestly didn't care at this point. As long as I survived another night and wasn't cast out to the wolves was I perfectly content to sit at home as nothing better than a pretty little maiden.. a pretty little maiden my arse.
I grumbled something, standing and turning before a thought clicked in my head, all intent to head back into the village, lugging my bucket of water, left my head. "Potter," I spoke calmly, heart pounding. "Where did you... Where did you get that blood?... On your trousers?" I clarified.
I heard him pause, the branches and leaves crackling quietly beneath his knees. "I..." his hands sloshed around in the water. "...Why should I tell you, Malfoy?"
I obviously deserved the disdain in his voice.
"Because I want to know, Potter. Is that too much to ask for now a-days? A little bit of knowledge? A smidgen of insight?"
"Geesh, fine." He stood, his hands dusting against his pants. (Which, in my mind, with them being soaked in blood, defeated the purpose of washing them in the first place.)
"I killed a rabbit, if your greedy little mind wants to know."
I turned sharply. To kill a rabbit these days, to kill something so white, so pure was almost a crime against whatever God it was that us Wizard's believed in anymore. Certainly no one had the Ministry to kiss arse for anymore, I was sure of that.
"Oh come off it, Malfoy. Wipe that sodding look from your face, I know you don't honestly care."
A glare was on my face almost instantly, turning back around and marching away with a defiant huff, branches crackling against my thin, fur-lined boots.
"Malfoy-" Harry spoke up after a moment, a hand raised with a furrow of confusion evident on his brow.
"I'm leaving, Potter. Just give me a moment," I grumbled, lifting a leg to step over a annoying log that lay strewn on the ground,my bucket clenched tightly, painfully in my palm. I jerked back as my foot refused to move.
"-Your foot is stuck..."
"I gathered that Potter!" Another jerk, a painful pull at the knee had me falling towards the ground, hands coming out to dig against the floor to save me from an imminent face plant into the dirt. Fuck, that hurt.
"Malfoy! Holy shite are you ok?" Feet crunched quickly against the dying leaves of the changing seasons, and the branches and twigs from the wood cutters harvests. A hand clasped around my arm, wide palm and long fingers, gently turning my body over to face the tops of the looming trees above, like an impervious barrier from the dark of a haunted night.
I felt a hiss slip past my lips before I realized what was happening. Potter had grabbed my arms, turning my body, my wrists aching violently at the jostling as I fell back-first against the forest floor.
"Fuck, Potter!" I groaned in distress, sharp jolts of pain aching through my wrists, shooting from the tips of my fingers and through my arm.
"Sorry! Sorry!" Brown hair, and tantalizing green eyes came into my view, a glance drifting over my face. It would shock me, thinking back, that I recognized the worry in his face, I just didn't believe it.
"Just rest for a minute, ok? Fuck Malfoy..." He glanced down at my body, presumably taking a gander at my wrists.
Glancing at the body that shadowed the warm afternoon sun from my face, I grumbled something unintelligible about being "Fine, unbreakable." When Harry conti- When did he become Harry?
When Potter continued to throw questions in my face and expect some damn answers before I could even answer them, my control snapped. "Potter! Bloody fucking bugger- I'm fine!"
"Malfoy! You look like you can't even bend your wrists-" Potter began leaning down, more than likely intent to pick me up, or grab my wrists to examine them- My wrists-
"Don't touch me!"
I jerked back instantly, heart rapidly pounding in my chest, fear crawling up my veins like an infestation, manifesting in my spine, sending bile up my throat and past night terrors rapidly appearing in and out of my head with violent abandon.
Harry froze, emerald eyes wide with fear, with confusion, his mask falling and rebuilding itself quickly. "M...Malfoy?" He certainly didn't expect me to be so unhinged by a little touch, did he?
Curling tighter in on myself, arms tucked in against my head, taking several deep breaths, air filling my lungs, and then crushing itself out of my chest, I tried to will myself to get my knees to stop shaking, will myself to stop acting like such a bloody fool.
"Malfoy? Hey... It's ok, shh, come on now..." A hand slowly rested against my wrist again, the touch cautious and sure, protective. "I'm.. I'm sorry if you didn't like me touching you. I promise not to do it again if you don't want me to." I let his wrist remain there.
He paused again. "Malfoy? Do you... Uh... You want me to leave? Give you some space?" Potter, for once, sounding confused, unsure how to handle the fact that someone didn't want a touch, a simple hand shake... A brush of fingertips... Any sort of compassion was craved for now a days.
"N-No..." I cleared my throat, taking in a few more shuddering breaths, ignoring the annoying prickling behind my eyes. "I'm fine."
"Ok." He sounded patient, setting my twisting heart at ease.
Bloody Merlin- Fucking hell. Potter was calming me down. Since when? What twisted universe did I wake up to today? Did I finally go around the bend? Get thrown to the wolves?
A few moments passed, my eyes slipping closed to help with a few deep breaths. You can't see it, it can't affect you. ...That thought one day would lead me to my downfall.
"Draco?" A voice spoke up calmly after a few, tense minutes, Harry's thumb gently drifting over my wrist, soothing my racing heart.
Shite.
"What, Potter?" My legs untucked from around my body, my knees groaning in protest, my arms uncurled from around my head and I pushed myself up into a sitting position, twigs and branches digging into my skin, Harry's hand slipping away from my wrist. I chose to ignore the fact that my wrist felt awkwardly cold afterward.
"Nothing." I chanced a glance up. He looked... Empty. Expressionless. A simple brown eyebrow raised in question. "You all better?"
I snorted, a sneer curling against my lips. "All better? I'm not some charity case that you can just suddenly make all their problems go away, Potter."
"I didn't mean-"
"But yes, for your information, I am fine Potter. Thank you for your few moments of charitable care." Rolling my silver-hued eyes, I got up from the ground with a sigh, dusting off my pants, ignoring the stinging, the twitching itch against my arm. No, you will not start now you stupid...
"Would you go hunting with me?"
..."What?"
There was a moments pause, as if my question through him off edge.
"Would... You like to go hunting with me?" Potter repeated again, a hand clenching at his side, looking as if he would love to reach up and run it through his shaggy, unkempt brown hair, or fiddled with those dreadful glasses.
I repeated myself again. "What?"
The ex-Gryffindor looked irritated. "I'm not going to repeat myself again, Malfoy. Just answer the damn question." Harry- Potter, what the fuck? Potter moved his weight from foot to foot, impatience, awkwardness speaking volumes in the shifting of his weight.
"You want to go hunting," I pointed an accusing, pale finger at him. "With me?"
"Brilliant conclusions there, Draco." Potter mumbled, a chuckle escaping his lips as he gazed at me with exasperation evident in his dark green eyes, dirt smudges making the bright green irises look even more captivating then- Bloody fuck.
"Oh shut it Potter."
"Make me-"
"Oh I will you brash twit!"
"Fine!" I shouted with a wave of my hand, the pale appendage coming to rub at my throbbing temple. "Fuck! Fine Potter, you win!"
"...Well, that required little effort."
"Don't get used to it." I snorted in amusement as the brunette held out a hand towards me, my
grip meeting his, sure and strong as he gave a cursory nod of his head. "See you tonight, Malfoy."
"...Tonight? You never mentioned-"
Potter's hand slipped from mine, his shit-eating grin wide on his face, his emerald eyes bright, hair disheveled- He was gone, back to being Little Whinging's famous woodcutter before I could bat a 'pretty blonde eyelash.'
What the fuck just happened?
-8-8-
After all that, it wasn't shocking that me and Harry- Potter became close allies. Not friends, I suppose, but allies. He took me away from the ever-watching eyes of the haunted witches and wizards, and I treated him like a human, like Harry. We would meet every afternoon, in secret, near a little river a ways walk from the section of the forest that Harry and his band of Weasleys (George, Bill and Ronald if I recalled. The other was the annoying priest of our little village and I think one of the red-headed bunch remained in Romania and another died as well. ...I refuse to admit that I did feel bad for them. I knew what it was like to lose family.) were busy tearing down and cutting up.
I'd bring some lunch that I had made (Mother tried cooking once... Let us just say, she was best for hosting parties, none of which would ever happen in this village.) and Harry would bring his rations he was able to grab from the Weasley bunch and we'd sit in companionable silence and just... Eat. We never really talked that much during the day for some reason, the mood that fell over our shoulders was just one of quiet contentment and passing chatter about the newest happening in the village, or how Harry's day was going with the new tree he was chopping at.
We were able to pass and hour or two in that silence, that calmness. Nothing existed when it was just us. Nothing troubling, no nightmares, no creatures lurking in the night with glowing gold, or red eyes and blood thirsty teeth, no failed war looming over our heads, or our ratty life-styles. Just... Well, just us. Just Draco and Harry, and I couldn't help but find some form of peace in that thought. I clung to it like a new loaf of bread. I clung to that thought that here, covered by the shelter of quietly rustling trees and the gentle chirping of birds, that our pasts didn't matter. It didn't matter that I had ended up the... Well, the right side of the war, and Potter had lost the war he was supposedly fighting for since before he could walk... It didn't matter that he wasn't seen as the Golden Boy after Little Whinging burned to the ground that changing night... The night that the creature appeared in Little Whinging. And, it didn't matter that... Well... It didn't matter. Our pasts didn't matter so much as the future did, so much as surviving in troubled and deadly times. And, I suppose, that that was how my ever unconventional relationship with Harry Potter, the ex-Gryffindor Golden Boy started.
-8-8-
So what'dya think?
Let me know!
It's been so long since I went and revisited this story and I'm excited to hear what ya'll think! This is my side project between a few stories and a LOT of costumes to finish in the next two to three months! Eek! Excited.
-Sincerely, your ever loyal Abraxas.