At the curtesy of one njferrell, I bring to you my first X-over fic and Edwarry slash:
The Strength of Blood
Disclaimer: In fact not only are these characters and worlds not mine, some of the ideas belong to njferrell. Will take place in movie world since I can remember that easier and the story will be shorter.
Summary: Edwarry, slash. We all know Harry's home life has been outside expectations, but what about Edward's past? And just what happened to Cedric after he died? When people change and aren't who they seem, the only thing we can rely on is the strength of blood.
1: Burning Blood
From the moment we landed, into a spooky, weathered-away tombstone filled graveyard no less, I had a bad feeling. No, not a bad feeling, an awful feeling. The kind that makes you feel like someone walked over your grave, getting ready to put you into it.
I guess because I had Harry, poor innocent Harry, I ignored that feeling. I mean, when you've got the boy-who-lived lying right beside you, you would too. He can do anything.
Then that rat-like person came into view, carrying that...that monstrous presence of evil in his arms hidden from our view and sheathed by a cloak like the coward he is. I heard his voice, raspy and weak, command his servant. "Kill the spare,"
I suppose I should have run. I should have pulled Harry away and we should have fled like howlers from hell. I didn't. We didn't. Harry's too brave as he is a Gryffindor, and I, maybe I wasn't as brave, but I was loyal. I was as loyal as he was brave. And so, Harry stood up, before I pull him back down, and spoke also to the servant.
"Pettigrew, I call upon that Life-Debt you owe!" His words were sharp, too sharp for his real self, the self I knew, and it made me wince to hear them come from his mouth along with that Pettigrew person.
"What are you waiting for, do it now!" His bundle in his arms spoke to him with as much volume as a whisper.
"Pettigrew, you rat, surrender your wand," I closed my eyes. It was too painful to see my Harry speak that way. "Now." he hissed.
I snapped my eyes open, my hairs on end, when Pettigrew stuttered. I got a sudden, intuitive thinking of his mind, kind of like a guess behind his intent. "S...s,sorry, Ma-Master," Then he muttered his curse and I jumped in the way, I couldn't let Harry be the one in pain.
And pain it was. I felt like my blood was boiling, on fire, eating up my insides and disintegrating my tissue until it started to pour out of my body. It was like death started living inside me and slowly taking over. I was sure my heart would burst sometime. My dad told me before that I had gotten the weak blood, the bad blood, but it came with my intuitiveness. Without the other, I could easily be dead now. Or even before.
I screamed a horrible, piercing scream I imagine. I can't remember. Everything went numb except for the pain. It consumed all my thoughts, it was all I could focus on however unbearable it was. All I know is that Harry did something to the rat and his burden, frantically trying to get me towards the portkey/trophy with tears running down his face. I remember thinking that I never wanted to make anyone cry, him most of all, before I was able to thankfully pass out.
*
"You've got weak blood son, that's why this is happening to you!" I shook my head at my father, I was tired of him rationalizing my sexual preference as a sickness.
"You could at least try to understand me, Dad. I know Mum would have!" I yell at him.
"And your mother's death! Oh, my son, my poor son, it is because of the trauma you've been put through by her death," He started to grieve, as if he lost me. Which, was partly true, I had made up my mind right then to leave. To never come back, never be his son. It hurt me to know that I would betray my own family lines, but then again, he hasn't been my father in a long time. I couldn't stand him any longer, I went to my room to pack for the right time to leave.
Oh, yes, I saw the look in his eyes when he looked at Harry; Harry Potter, the great hero. He wanted Harry to be his son. I knew it by the smiles he gave him, by his actions, by his words. I put on a grin and bared it, knowing the attention and fatherly touches he gave me were an act for him. He hasn't done anything like that to me since Mum died. Especially at present times.
For a fraction of a second, I could have sworn that I saw a flicker in those green orbs. A flicker of jealousy or want maybe, of understanding before they went back to their happy bright. It confused me. Why would the privileged saviour not have everything he ever wanted? He had all the money, and an adopted family for the things money can't buy. What else could he possibly desire? Ever since then, I became infatuated with learning more about Harry Potter, the true Harry.
*
When I came to, all I saw was a blurred form of some blonde's face. He was smiling at me, his mouth moving though no sound reached my ears. It freaked me out for a second. I didn't know where I was, why I couldn't talk, why I couldn't hear or move anything, or even who the hell he was. All that I knew, at that moment in time, was that he looked young and inexperienced, however attractive his blurred image may be, and I felt a danger around him. The subdued kind, where one can lash out and strike at any moment. And those were the most lethal kinds of people or creatures.
I think he noticed my stress levels, since I saw him murmur and I felt the drowsiness of a sedation spell come upon me. I fought it of course, I was the least of all kinds of people who wanted to fall asleep within the midst of some potential murder. But I eventually went under.
*
One of the potions they gave me had a drug in it that caused me to have the weirdest dream. It had to be a reaction of some kind to some substance. I am heavily doused with multiple potions, after all, and it is quite common...isn't it?
My dream form had me looking down at myself, at first I was so close I could touch the pale skin of my cheek. I looked horrible. My face was shallow and scratched up from my blood that burned right through. My cheeks turned purple and sunk in, my lips were blue. My body wheezed and shuddered with every breath, sounding and looking like people barely alive. At least I wasn't bleeding anymore. But I was so badly wounded that even parts of my head were covered from view. I had tufts of my hair stick out from under the pinkish-white bandages and I smelled. I smelled like the dead.
My mind started to whirl and I, as a spirit, was slowly pulled away. I couldn't be dying! I couldn't! I won't! Suddenly my body form snapped open its eyes and started to spasm, foam at the mouth included excepted that even was dyed red. In fact, all of its bandages darkened red and blood spurted out of the small, and getting deeper, cuts.
And I felt it. I felt the hotness come back that boiled my blood in the first place. I think one of my tissues or muscles ripped apart under the pressure. That meant I was still connected, I was still alive!
"Barely. He's barely alive," My Healer spoke to himself and the empty room, pacing and tapping his chin. "Should I condemn him to painful death or to a painful 'life'?"
"Condemn me to life!" I screamed at him. I could care less what he was or how old he was, I just wanted him to hear me, even if it was the faintest.
He sank to his knees and raised his hands up, unknowingly right to my face. "What do you want from me! Haven't I Changed enough people? Killed their souls just so they could live longer when we all must die?"
I didn't register any of what he said, perhaps I would have known then instead of later. I could see his face now, his very famous face. "I don't care, just please let me live!"
I was at the top of the ceiling and I had a feeling that it was now or never. "Please," I cried, watching his face turn towards my jerking body. My less-spasmodic jerking body becoming weaker.
"I am sorry for what I must do, but I can at least make it hurt less," He whispered slowly as if those words hurt him to say. I blinked and he was at my side, biting my neck.
All of a sudden, my old pain was replaced with a new one. It felt like everything in my body went in reverse, and grew in agony as I was sucked closer and closer back.
*
It took all of my self control not to try and strangle him as he pulled back and the pain still ravaged me. I glared at him and hissed, angry that he was weeping at what he inflicted on me. Then it all stopped. My body was still topsy-turvy, but the pain was gone.