Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters. I also used exerpts from 'A Child called It.' By Dave Pelzer - It fit the story perfectly, so why not!
CHAPTER 1
Once he restored life. Now he brought death with his touch.
Harry Potter brushed a tender hand across the cold marble gravestone. Beneath it lay Hermione. Around the stone, daisies planted in loving care were withering and dying on their frail stems.
Never had he felt this forlorn. Not since he'd came into his heritage a year ago and learned of his ancestry. Not since he had discovered that he was descended from the Morthmores', the race of death bringers and restorers of life.
When a Morthmores was still a child, being less than fourteen years of age, they could bring dead things back to life by simply touching them. Harry had always been a bit of a hero with his classmates at Hogwarts, whenever a pet died, but he had never known why, no one had ever told him. Until the day before his 15th birthday, when they became fifteen, Morthmores' killed everything they touched with their bare hands and only their blood could restore life. Harry hadn't asked for this. But there was another problem. Morthmores' could only die of old age, because their blood would constantly revive them. Harry learned this the second time he had tried to end it all.
Sunlight dappled fading gold-and-red leaves on the canopy of trees. Stray beams drifted onto the small clearing in the deep woods. Here and there, rounded markers etched in ancient runes that only Hermione would have been able to read, marked the places where Hogwarts students and professors eternally rested.
A shiver skated down his spine as a cool breeze caressed his cheek. In a few days, school would start again and he would be under Dumbledore's protection again.
Without Dumbledore, the Ministry would be forced to send him to Azkaban for life.
Stretching out his hands, he studied the chamois men's gloves that covered them. He pulled off the right glove and the thin latex sterile glove beneath it. Harry touched the gravestone again, relishing the feel of the hard surface, cool marble. Just to feel
Tiny crescent marks gouged his palm as he squeezed, his nails digging into tender flesh. Swallowing hard, he covered his hand. Both gloves had a spell on them to stop his touch seeping through their fabric. No matter. His hands killed people.
He had killed Hermione after touching her and killed Dudley as well.
Harry closed his eyes and mentally reached out to an imaginary white knight.
Help me.
Harry's mobile rang and he glanced at the caller ID, his heart sank. Petunia.
Fuck. He answered and before he could say anything, his aunt's screeching voice blasted through the phone.
"Where the FUCK are you, Potter? You have chores and if you don't get home now. No food for a week. You are a fucking ungrateful, slob, just like your useless mother." The phone went dead with a snap and Harry had to jerk the device away from his ear.
"I love you too, Petunia." Said Harry quietly, smiling ruefully. He was used to the insults, but even as he thought about it he was transported backA small, scrap of a boy, with cracked round glasses and shaggy, black hair, stands on a stool
what torture now? She grabbed his arm in a vice grip.
"You've made my life a living hell!" she sneers into his face; "Now it's time for me to show you what hell is like!" she grips his arm tighter and hauled him over to the stove. Then she held his wrist in the orange-blue flame. Harry's skin seemed to explode from the heat. The smell of burning flesh and hair filled the pristine kitchen. Harry fought hard, screaming in agony, but he couldn't get Petunia to let him go. Finally he fell to the floor, on his hands and knees. Harry tried to blow cool air onto his arm. "It's too bad your slut mother or drunken father is not here to save you, you little cunt. Because I will see you BURN!" She hissed. And she reached down to grab himpackagesexy motherfucker." Draco whispered to the forest, trying not to picture Narcissa's reaction to all of this, if she found out. Lucius had always known. Draco told his father everything and Lucius never hid what he did with Severus when Narcissa was away on business meetings, from Draco. So they both had their secrets that they hid from Narcissa and shared only with each other.
As if on cue, Lucius apparated beside Draco and immediately took a small mirror from the pocket of his velvet robes, tucked his long blonde hair delicately behind his ears and ran his fingers through the golden tresses before turning to his son.
"Hi Dray."
"Hey, dad." Draco sad grinning broadly, "What's up?"
"Your mother just got home, so I came out here." Lucius, looked down, sheepishly fiddling with a lock of hair. "Luckily Sev left before she got back though." Draco smiled at his father and decided not to askyour definitely doing it rightI couldn't sleep last night."
Lucius smirked in a true 'Malfoy fashion' and then he blushed suddenly before speaking.
"Draco, there is a silencing charm on my rooma spur of the moment thing, you knowstuff happens, OK?" by the time Lucius had finished Draco was listening again, but as soon as he stopped talking, Draco began pissing himself again.
This time Lucius's deep laugh joined in.