My first HP Fanfic, but please don't let that stop you from reading! I have another, but it's more a ficlet than an actual story.
INPORTANT INFO:
1) Harry Potter, in my mind, is the creature, and not a wizard. No Harry Potter, no fall of Voldemort.
2) Voldemort is alive, and running the school. Dumbledore is dead.
3) What happened to Draco is something I randomly thought of, and is mostly explained, but there was an attack at the station, and he was trapped by fire, hence his phobia.
4) This has not been beta'ed, there could still be minor mistakes.
Disclaimer: I own nothing!
A beautiful girl, seduced and then killed. A boy, tricked into servitude. An eternally young man, standing at the edge of the forest, luring in his prey, waiting to ensnare them. A woman, donned in a long, flowing dress, singing, waiting to be heard and strike.
Draco never could explain his fascination with his mother's stories. Growing up a Black, she didn't have sunshine and flowers in her stories even when he was young. Always, they were filled with horror, but he listened raptly.
Still, as he was now in his sixth year, he was too old to listen to such tales. It was beneath a Malfoy. Not that he didn't keep repeating them in his head.
Draco Malfoy, Ice Prince of Slytherin, decided early on he could not be tricked. He seemed to know when others were lying, and it would never happen to him. Ever.
These thoughts were always in his head with anyone other than his closest friends. Right now, though, he was chatting with Pansy about the Defense homework, and was fairly annoyed.
"Fifteen inches!" He exclaimed. "She wants us to write fifteen inches about such a useless topic? This is crazy!"
"Now Drakey," Pansy cooed, "She is just being annoyed as usual. You know Professor Libia reads all those muggle stories. She's obsessed."
"Still! Creatures who use appearances to lure others… How ridiculous!"
He knew so many stories from his mother, but she never specified what they really were.
"You could just wait until tomorrow to do it," she suggested.
Draco suspected she was just trying to get him away from the verge of yelling and nodded. After all, it wouldn't do for a Malfoy to lose his composure.
"Come on. We can do something else." She ended with a smirk, but he wasn't in the mood.
"Sorry Pans, but maybe tomorrow."
A resigned sigh. "Alright. Do you want to do something else here or should we head back?"
"I just want to do some quick research," He said with a faint smirk. "I'll meet you there later."
As soon as she left, he stretched languidly. He loved Pansy, but he needed some of his own time. Then, deciding he didn't want to do any other homework with tomorrow's already done, he instead went to the fifth floor. As soon as he stepped off the stairs, he headed in the direction of the Perfect's Bathroom.
Easily giving the password, he called a house-elf once inside.
"What can Tinty be doing for Master?" the elf looked at his with wide, eager eyes.
"I need you to bring me an extra uniform from my trunk."
Merlin forbid he go there and Pansy keep him from leaving, pulling Theo and Blaise for help.
"Tiny be doing that right away!"
The elf popped away and reappeared seconds later.
"You can go," he dismissed.
The Perfect's Bathroom was the best part of being a Perfect. The tub was actually in the ground, almost a giant pool. All around the pool were one hundred golden taps, each with a different colored jewel. Each tap provided different colored bath water, bubbles, foam, and temperature. At one side were more personal care products than imaginable. There were so many bottles of shampoo, condition, soap, shower gel, moisturizers, hair spray, and all the likes.
He turned certain taps, and quickly stripped. Once the water was at the brim, he slid in and sighed with pleasure.
How long had it been since he could relax so easily? The Dark Lord had a firm hold on Hogwarts, so rebels couldn't come in. The school was still the safest place for all the students. Safe and away from the rebels who would torture and kill the kids so their Death Eater parents would suffer. Hogsmeade weekends had aurors patrolling the borders on the Dark Lord's command so they all remained unharmed.
Still, he had a mask to keep up, and it was exhausting.
Finally calm, Draco thought of his mother's stories. He had been doing that often, ever since Professor Libia brought it up in class. They were still enchanting after all these years. In the darkness, with nothing but the moonlight and stars, his mother's voice seemed haunting, the atmosphere doing nothing but pulling him in deeper.
"Once upon a time, Draco, there was a boy your age. His manor was by the forest. One day, he saw beautiful lights from inside the forest; red, green, blue, purple, orange. He snuck out one day, and went inside the forest. There, he saw the pretty lights better. But there was a man. He was a handsome man. He had hair and dark as the night, and eyes are bright the day. His ears, though, were pointed. He saw the boy and smiled. It was not a nice smile, Draco. It was a bad smile. With one move, the boy fell to the ground, grass and dirt everywhere. But, that did not matter. The boy was dead, Draco."
Her stories were morbid and ended horribly. The human would die, or be used in a ritual, or be a slave, or something equally painful.
He always told himself he would win. He would not die, or be used in a ritual, or be a slave, or anything else. He was a Malfoy. He was strong, he was proud, he would never lose.
"Once upon a time, Draco, there was a boy your age. He loved to fly and play quidditch. He would do flips and loops and laugh and enjoy. One day, he met a sweet woman. She had hair so blonde it was silver, and her eyes were a bright blue. She said he was an excellent flier, and she would like to challenge him. If he won, she would give him whatever he wanted. If she won, he would do whatever she wanted. The boy, thinking of sweets and toys, agreed. He asked where her broom was, and she said she didn't need it. On the count of three, they took off. The boy laughed at the game, Draco, but the woman distracted him. Her shirt, so expensive-looking, was torn in the back. Long, large wings prodded from her back. She flew and flew; the boy falling behind. Finally she reached the endpoint first. She patted the boy on the head, then quickly snapped a pair of cuffs on his wrists. The boy was now her slave, Draco."
Most mothers would accuse her of being a terrible parent, but Draco would fall asleep smiling. He would not end up as those other boys and girls in her tales. Now, years later, he still thought he would beat those creatures.
Finally feeling content, Draco dried up, changed, and went to the dungeons. The air quickly cooled, almost chilly, but Draco was cold by nature. The ice all around was comforting. Fire burned, but the cold soothed him. Ice was controlled, but fire was wild, raging.
Night had fallen, the moon invisible from down in the dungeons. Rounds were performed by the fifth years that night, so he could just go to sleep.
Nowadays, he wanted to rest. It felt as if everything was pressing around him, suffocating. The rebels… Everything seemed to be their faults. They still wanted the Light to be the greatest power. They attacked, they hurt, and even children were in danger. At Platform 9 ¾, everyone getting back to their families for the winter holidays… Such a terrible attack, so many casualties. Nearly fifteen children died. It was because they were 'dark,' but they were still innocent! The leaders of the attack were found, then personally tortured and killed by the Dark Lord.
Smiling faintly at Pansy, Theo, and Blaise, Draco went to his room, closed the curtain, and slept.
The blond woke with a start. His breathing was erratic, but it couldn't be controlled at the moment.
So much pain… Green lights flashing against the red train… Red flames matching the train some were still trapped in… Cruel laughter ringing out in echoes… Screaming, yelling, crying, all hopeless… Pleads for mercy, to spare their children… Malicious denies, inflicting pain on hearts as well as bodies…
"STOP!"
The plead rang around him. He then realized it was his own voice, begging the memory to end.
Finally, he regained control over his mind. He felt so weak, so drained, so tired. His curtains were charmed to keep all noise in, so he wasn't worried others heard. That was good. He didn't need more worry and stress.
The fear of the dream kept him from wanting to sleep again. Instead, he pushed aside the curtains, and left. He left the dorms, left the common room, left the castle.
Draco silently padded the halls, mind begging for a distraction. The stone floor beneath his feet was freezing, but it was good. Cold was good. Portraits all around snored softly, asleep as he was before, though much more calmly than him. Torches were lit, but Draco walked in the middle of the hall to avoid being near them on any side.
Soon, or maybe not, he faced the great wooden doors. One push and would be free to roam outside as well. He knew it was frigid outside with February just starting, but cold was good. It was so unlike the fire, burning all around, taking lives, trapping them in the train… No!
He pressed against the doors, which opened quietly. He heard not a single sound. As he stepped in the cold grass, moist with dew, he felt more at peace. No fire. He continued to tread the grass.
Once upon a time, Draco, there was a boy your age. His manor was near a large lake.
His confidence broken, Draco silently walked towards the Black Lake. He knew he must've looked pitiful, so hesitant and childish, seeing monsters in shadows.
One night, he woke to singing. It was so beautiful, even if there were no words. It buried itself into the boy's very soul, haunting him.
As he got closer, he heard a soft tune. For a moment, he thought he imagined it. What student would be awake so late, singing nonetheless? But after several minutes, there was no denying it. There was someone softly singing. Curious, he went closer towards the lake, the origin of the music.
Soon, curiosity got the better of him. He went outside, towards the music. There, on the rock, was a man, sitting and singing. He had hair as black as the night, and eyes as green as emeralds.
There, where the giant squid would sunbathe, was a man. A man who looked eternally young. Beautiful. His hair was pitch black against the sky, but Draco's breath was taken away at his eyes. They were a bright green, so enchanting as to have him pause in his walk to stare.
His appearance did not compare to his voice. It was sweet, haunting, and the boy wanted to cry with joy and pain. The song held no words, Draco, but it was filled with magic.
Draco could only stare for a few moments before having his thoughts change. The music, the song… pain filled him, surrounding him. Memories came up, overtaking his senses. Screams, shouts, pain, pain, pain… fire, all around him, trapping him in the train, too hot, too wild for one spell to cancel...
The boy could not think anymore. The music, it was too much. He slowly walked towards the man, unable to go too fast with the storm inside of him. When he was close enough, the man offered him a hand.
The memories slowly slowed, but the fear, the panic, it stayed. Too much was inside him. It was overwhelming, all the emotions.
Pain… Fear… Longing… Desperation… Panic… Terror…
The song, it held more, though. As he listened, there were promises. Promises of relief, happiness, joy… Promises of peace…
And so, he slowly made his way towards the lovely voice, the enthralling song, the captivating man who sat on the rock.
The boy looked at the hand for some time, the song's magic slowing his thoughts. Then, he extended his own arm. Do you know what happened next, Draco?
When he reached the rock and the man, a hand was held out to him. Those eyes were so warm, so kind, so peaceful.
He wanted that peace. He wanted to forget the fire, the burning.
The water in the Black Lake was still. There was no movement, no ripples on the surface. Everything was quiet except the song, the beautiful, otherworldly song.
He slowly moved his arm forward, his skin touching cold skin in return. Cold. Cold was good.
The man's lips continued to move. The song was soft, yet thunderous. A whisper carried on the breeze.
The man stepped into the water, and then guided Draco into the lake as well. The promises in the song were his only thoughts as he followed the other's lead.
Draco was deep enough for the water to reach his knees… His waist… His chest… His shoulders…
He wanted peace from the fire… From the pain…
The boy was pulled into the water and drowned. He was never seen again, Draco.
Anyone have any advice or suggestions? I don't have a beta, so there might still be mistakes. Feel free to review if you find something! Like I said, This is my first HP Fanfic I posted, so help is appreciated! Thanks for reading!