Of Malfoys and literature
He crawled on his belly. Something was wrong; he could feel it, almost taste it in the very air around him. There was something dangerous moving about, and it was after him.
He moved quickly. He went over rocks and earth as if it were his normal means of transportation. He realized soon that he was moving far too quick through the brush for someone on hands and knees. He noticed then that he slithered, not crawled.
With that revelation, though still slightly fearful of his surroundings, he paused. He swung his head around and was mildly surprised to see a snake tail waving back at him.
As he turned around to move on, he was suddenly surrounded by a mass of snakes of all different types on all sides. He coiled into a ball, ready to pounce at any given moment to defend himself.
Instead of ambushing him, the snakes all seem to approach him in respect and wonder. He did not understand their collective, almost melodic hissing, but he could ascertain that there was no harm to be expected from them. He could almost see the look of sorrow, reverence and fierce loyalty in their eyes.
He inched toward them and by means of some soft hissing inquired why they were agitated.
In unison they hissed, "The Dark Lord nears."
Before Harry could wrap his mind around what they were saying or the fact that he understood them, his tongue caught the tangy scent of a danger in the air once more. He started forward, trying to slither his way through the mass of snakes.
He stopped as he realized none were facing him, rather they were all hissing furiously towards one point.
Harry felt a sharp pain in his head, and his tongue ached from the amount of peril it was sensing.
There was a tug at his tail. In a second, Harry bared his fangs as he swung around to bite his attacker. He stopped in mid-strike. There was a feeble garden snake, pulling at his tail with haste.
"He must not find you!" It hissed in a tiny voice.
Harry followed the little one out of impulse. He looked back as his body allowed the little one to guide him.
Snakes continued arriving from all sides, hundreds of them, and they congregated at the one point Harry had just vacated.
Harry noticed soon that a massive fight was taking place. He saw mangled and shredded bodies of snakes fly in all directions. Some large beast growled in frustration and anger.
Moribund water flowed down the length of his back.
"Where are you, Potter? You can't hide forever!" Harry saw disembodied, furious red eyes rise slowly above the wall of snakes. They looked around quickly in all directions before settling on Harry's retreating figure, with a dark flash of recognition and malice they narrowed.
.
.
Harry awoke in a full sweat. He immediately checked his body for any involuntary serpentine metamorphosis.
He shivered slightly, though not because of any coldness.
He hadn't had nightmares in years. Of his old ones there had been some bad or odd ones, yes, but not actual nightmares of that caliber.
He detangled and detached himself from the sticky wet sheets. He grinned slightly as he caught the distracting whiff of Lady Malfoy's perfume. She had religiously frequented his bed in the guest wing of her husband's manor. And she fucked me senseless!
He groaned slightly as the nightmare's influence on his body caught up with him, as well as other feats he managed last night.
If Draco only knew some of the things I've been doing to his mother!
She and Harry maintained an alibi of "magical re-education" to keep Draco from suspecting anything the past days. He was actually complimented by the fact that he knew more than Harry and did not have to partake in these lessons on the "ways of the Wizarding World."
There had been some close calls over the last three days since their arrival where Draco almost caught his mother leaving Harry's room at some ungodly hour. Harry managed to evade Draco's nosey mental attempts by regurgitating information from the memories he stole from Draco on Wizarding politics.
He was continuously saved by fortune and by the blond's inability to notice his mind being tapped for information.
"Bollucks!" He growled as he tripped over a chair in the dark.
"hu-Wha- Who goes there?" The portrait hanging over the dark marble mantel grumbled.
Harry waved his hand igniting the candles on the floating chandelier, showing himself to the disgruntled man. The man in portrait nodded, noticeably irritated, before dosing off again.
He sat down slowly on the chair he had just abused with his foot, hoping to ease the pain gathering right above his left temple. He gave it a slight massage, calling on his magic to soothe it.
He climbed back into his bed to in an attempt to go back to sleep. The clock on the wall said it was six past three in the morning.
The last time he had a nightmare was three years ago, and it had come true…twice. He learned to heed warnings even if he did not understand them.
He needed to figure out what the dream meant. It seemed very straightforward. I'm going to turn into a snake and Voldemort is actively searching for my ass.
He wondered who or what the other snakes represented. Someone else was trying to protect him. He also took into account the fact that this nightmare could reflect some past, future or present situation. In any case, he just had to keep his eyes open extra wide.
And the fact that I spoke and understood the snakes…
There had been one incident with a snake that someone had lovingly left in his room at Sirkins. He never questioned how it got there or how it understood him, but he had told it not to bite him and go away, and it did so. That snake did not talk back to him though.
His mind swam with musings.
After several minutes of futilely trying to sleep, he re-detached himself from his bed and decided to venture out of his room for a bit.
As soon as he reached the door, an odd warmth struck him. It permeated from the other side of the door.
He summoned his magic in a second and sent it to see what awaited him on the other side of the door. Despite the fact that Lady Malfoy guaranteed him safety within the manor, he refused to be taken by surprise anywhere. Especially with Lord Malfoy being a dedicated servant of the man who was trying to find and kill Harry.
His magic responded like a bat's echo. According to it, Draco Malfoy was sleeping on the other side of this door. He opened it and confirmed the reading. The blond was nestled in his doorframe
"Draco!" He yelled waking the boy up.
He stepped to the side as the boy tumbled into the room.
Harry briefly considered asking why the boy was sleeping in his doorframe, but his mind made the necessary connections for him.
"Is it that bad?" He asked the blushing boy who refused to meet his eyes.
"Potter, I don't-." Harry reached down and grabbed the blond.
He pulled the boy to his feet, yanking him more aggressively than he had planned. "Sorry," he caught the flying blond. He gave a lopsided grin.
"I just needed a few moments- you know…" Harry thought back to their last conversation pertaining to the bonding.
Draco had taken it upon himself to research the accidental bond as much as possible in his family's library. He found that centuries ago two Noble and Ancient Families accidentally created a similar bond. It was to ensure that their arranged marriages were sure to bring children, created the bond that he and Draco had accidentally forged. It forced the two betrothed to seek the company of the other, linked their minds and magic, linked their families.
Harry nearly shat himself as Draco explained the situation to him. Fortunate for him, Draco's hand had been magically given to some girl before his birth. Pantsy, Panty, or something like that.
Harry was happy to not have to worry about any matrimony. Not only was marriage an alien concept for him, he was similarly disinterested in men.
Draco's arranged marriage was sealed with magical oaths and was valid until the death of one or both betrothed. Any breach of the contract could warrant the lost of magic, hinder reproduction with any other person, or lead to death depending on the severity. Apparently, the bond with Harry was interfering with the outstanding marriage contract, causing Draco pain.
Harry shook his head as he closed the door to his room and met Draco on the bed. The Wizarding World was so backward and medieval. Unwillingly, he felt slight sympathy for Draco, who was obviously homosexual, despite what his parents wanted to believe. He would be forced into an unwanted relationship with someone, who, in his own words, was a "fat cow," because it was obligatory for him to carry on the family's name.
He had surprised the blond by knowing and being understanding of his sexuality. Harry had to be frank with Draco when he felt the blond becoming sexually interested in him. All of the horny vibes coming off of him were a bit discomforting.
Draco had merely nodded and accepted the rejection, obviously embarrassed.
"May I just lay here for a bit?" The blood asked in a tired and soft voice. Harry was slightly disgusted by how weak he made the blond feel. "I just couldn't sleep."
Harry sighed. He wanted to say 'no,' but he was not blind to how pale Draco was. I can't believe that the bond – my magic – is doing this to him.
According to Draco, in addition to the pain from the unordinary breach of marriage contract, Harry's magic was far too developed for Draco's magic to equally bond with, and it was forcing Draco's magic to mature early. Though there were many advantages to prematurely accessing his magic, it forced Draco's magic to seek out Harry's as a regenerative source to help it grow. Harry hoped that this phase of the bond ended soon.
He nodded to he blond and felt a slight tug at his magic. His magic automatically allowed Draco's to utilize it.
"How long do you think this will last?" He asked Draco as he increased the intensity of the effect of the magical exchange.
He was worried about Draco's health, but also about the hazard Draco posed to him. It was like being responsible for a magically parasitic baby.
Harry was still uncomfortable having Draco around him constantly and was equally unhappy to be in the Wizarding world. Lady Malfoy was quick to warn him about the danger he faced from both Voldemort and Dumbledore. One wanted him dead as a trophy, and the other wanted him as a puppet, a living beacon of hope.
Harry sighed. I knew that this magical world shit was too good to be true. I should have just stayed away.
Draco had spoken, unheard by him. He nodded, pretended to have heard and understood. The blond seemed to accept this and went silent for a moment.
His life in captivity seemed to not be at end yet. The only possible freedom Harry could see was with the death of Voldemort and afterwards seclusion.
And Dumbledore… The wizard annoyed Harry deeply, but he was very unsure how to deal with the man. He was very powerful and well connected, so Harry definitely did not want to oppose him publicly. Harry recognized also that his name carried much weight in the magical world as someone in direct opposition to the dark forces. As two titular leaders of the Light, it would be logical for them to combine forces to combat the Dark.
Harry was sure he might need to go so far as to seek the wizard's help as he had been battling Voldemort for years. But he obviously would be on Harry's To-Watch list. Harry was sure that the wizard had more connection to his non-magical world than the Judge Omnious hinted to. He might hinder any political or public moves Harry made by utilizing his non-magical connections.
Harry was not so naïve as to underestimate the man. He was, like Voldemort, an obvious force to be reckoned with.
And just like Voldemort, Dumbledore is not so mighty that he can't be brought down.
"What?" He asked Draco, as the boy waved a hand in front of his face bringing him out of his thoughts of deposition.
"If you didn't want to talk to me, you could have just said so. There was no need to pretend as if were an active part of this discussion." He meant to guilt Harry into offering an apology. Harry frowned in response.
"I'm not easily manipulated into anything, especially apologies, Draco." He ignored the baffled look on the blond's face.
I'm also not obtuse. He mentally said to the blond as he stood up.
He felt a slight tug on his magic as though he had just removed a suction tube that was attached to his magic. Draco groaned slightly.
"I need fresh air." He used his magic to call his jacket to him from the chair.
Before Draco had the chance to process his statement, he was out the door.
He breathed a sign of relief as walked down the empty, pitch-black corridor. He stepped lightly in the darkness with a heavy mind.
I need an actual escape plan.
His considered his first mission being to destroy Voldemort. He needed to figure out why Voldemort wanted his head on a stick. Who would want to kill a one-year old anyway? Unless he was after my parents… but they were unable to stop him, he still went after me. Why? I stopped him too. How?
He had so many questions, and each one lead to dozens more as he pondered them.
He shook his head. One thing was certain, if Voldemort attacked him as a baby and failed, he would be hesitant to attack him as an adult if he had any sense. That bought him some time. He just needed to get some information. He needed to read up on as much as possible. Voldemort as well as all educated wizards had one up on him. He had limited access to Draco's knowledge, but the blond could only do wand magic and Harry only knew wandless. The blonde also only had a few years of magical training under his belt, and Harry was sure that the older wizards were more experienced. Harry was going to need to catch up if he was to kill Voldemort before Voldemort killed him.
If he had as much money as Lady Malfoy said he did, then he should be able to get any resources he needed.
I can't wait to see this for myself. One good thing that came out of his coming to the magical world was going from poor to powerful.
Lady Malfoy wanted him to wait before he presented himself to the Wizarding World officially. She believed they could stage this to his benefit. Instead of going to the Wizarding bank, an official would meet him at the manor tomorrow or the day after to educate him on his assets.
He would then sign the proxy forms that allowed Lady Malfoy to temporary represent him in the government. Until I declare myself informed enough to take up any position. Harry believed that the woman was competent and sensible, but he did not trust her enough to sign any seat of power that belonged to him over to her definitively and unconditionally.
If anything, I'd let Draco represent me. At least I can see into his mind and read his intentions.
Despite this perk, the bond ultimately frightened him with the sheer amount of insight that it gave him into Draco's life, mind, and soul. There was little he did not know, or could not find out about the boy. Lucky though, he doesn't know anything about me... I think.
The thought of Draco being able to rummage around in his mind unsettled him. There would be nothing he could hide from the blond. He would be exposed and vulnerable.
I wonder how long it will take him until he finds out about his mom and me.
He got lost in memories of sex with Lady Malfoy. After almost falling down an unseen staircase, he created a ball of light and allowed it to dance in front of him.
He found himself walking into the Malfoy Library. With high ceilings, the room housed five floors of books. It boosted one of the greatest, accessable libraries in Britain outside of the Ministry of Magic, Hogwarts, and Bulfinch, Britain's magical public library.
Harry ran his hand on the lavish white and green marble torch next to him and willed all of the torches to alight with bright light. The light reached every corner he could see.
It had to be the most majestic library he had ever seen in his life, simply breathtaking. There was a circular entry area, from which he could look up at all of the different levels of the library. Each level connected to the spiraling grand staircases on both ends. He wanted nothing more than to roam the endless rows of parchment rolls and books to ingest all of the information, but Draco, raised as an only child, spent much time within the pristine walls during his childhood. One of the blond's earliest memories included reading a book on Animagus from the library. The blond had conquered, in his opinion, a good portion of the library.
There was no need for Harry to peruse potions, etiquette, jinxes, bloodlines or politics as Draco had thoroughly explored those sections of the library. Those had been the parts that he had been permitted to inspect.
Harry drifted along the unexplored sections on defensive magic, charms, and wandless magic until he found himself wandering along the fifth and highest level of the library. He passed books on politics from the Dark Ages to current times. He ran his trailed along the cold marble.
He passed a slightly darkened and fenced-off section of the library. A chill went through him, and he withdrew his fingers. This was the only place in the library that he was restricted from entering. Its books were foreign to him and Draco as it was a newly acquired section from Voldemort.
Apparently, as Lord Malfoy informed Draco, the Dark Lord had dispersed an important part of his personal library to the Malfoys as they were the most "loyal" and able to safeguard his precious items. Draco told him directly that he had tried and failed to access this dark section ofs library, but the gates hissed at him.
Jackpot. Harry inspected the gate, trying to figure out how to get it opened.
He noticed that his forehead throbbed slightly, annoyingly at first then more painful. He backed away slightly.
A sudden bolt of pain brought him to his knees. The scar on his face no longer hurt, it burned. He threw one hand out as he tipped forward. His magic pulsing all around him
As soon as his hand made contact with the black, wrought iron gate, a voice spoke to him is a slow, odd tone.
"Password." He vaguely heard a hiss accentuate the voice.
Harry gritted his teeth. "Open damnit." He growled.
The bars of the gate gave off a loud rattle Harry could feel the magic attempt to surround him. His magic was defending him viciously. Harry actually saw bright beams of magic leaving his fingertips and fighting the dark magic tendrils coming off of the gates.
He grew tired of the stalemate after a few moments and decided to end it quickly. He held his palm out and pushed more magic into the battle.
His magic pushed the black tendrils back.
He inhaled deeply as his magic made contact with the black bars. Time seemed to stop for a moment. He felt his magic hesitate.
There was no sound, no warning, but he was still blasted off of his feet. He toppled over the railing that separated him from a four-story tumble. His magic slowed his fall. He landed softly on his back.
"Damn."
Just as he righted himself, his curiosity got the best of him and his magic. He was suddenly propelled through the air backwards. The gates seemed to watch him apprehensively.
He felt a sudden intense burning flashing through him. Oh shit. He felt a very familiar scorching throughout his body. He magic swelled within him like a viper ready to strike.
With a series of flashes, a loud groaning, and, with a none-too-gentle smell of burnt metal, the black gates were no more. A pile of ashes welcomed Harry as he walked into the dark section.
Immediately his body relaxed. The scar on his forehead no longer pained him with only a dull ache remaining. His magic no longer hummed in his ears, but it remained at the ready should something attack him.
He took a few steps into the area. He brought forth a few balls of light to conquer the pure darkness in section.
Books of all types lined an onyx bookshelf. Most of them appeared to range from old to ancient. His brow furrowed as he noticed some of them dated before the printing press had even been invented.
Were they handwritten? Or were wizards printing books before regular people were?
There were manuscripts and old scrolls on some of the shelves. Many of them writing in hieroglyphics or in symbols that he did not understand. He conjured a tiny table and chair and enlarged it. He pulled a few books off of the shelf to look at them.
Control Earth, Fire, Water by Glewoth Grink
Roaming Magiks by Eythik Paine
On The Darkest Torture by Bonic Chon
He flipped through some of the pictures and almost dropped the last book. Who would think of this shit? Who thought to fracture all of someone's bones and slowly drive the sharp bone fragments through the person's body?
The worst parts were the pictures of actual victims of these spells. Harry looked at one woman silently screaming and twisting in agony under a curse that removes the person's skin and makes the air toxic to the flesh.
He was repulsed by the information in that book and many of the others that he breezed through, but nevertheless drawn to the information.
This is what Voldemort knows, he told himself, I should at least have some idea of what he knows… to keep the playing field even.
He created a box and grabbed a few armfuls of the oldest and darkest looking books and scrolls. He shrunk them and put them in the box after flipping through them.
A book fell to the floor in the farthest corner with a loud thud grabbing his attention. His pulse increased with blood and magic. He conjured another light and walked over to the book.
It was ash colored and covered in some sort of sleek fabric. It had burn marks and cuts all over it. There was no title, no author, and no date on it. Harry didn't want to believe what his eyes were showing him, but the cover showed a man on fire and enjoying it. Upon closed inspection, he could tell that it was not fire but magic. He opened the book and saw no words.
The book shook slightly. Harry quickly put it back on the floor and moved away from it. What the fuck?
"How dare you attack me?" Someone grumbled angrily. Harry jumped out of his skin. His magic swept around him, searching for the speaker. More books fell behind him. He turned and went to check it out.
"Who's there?" The quiver in his voice did not surprise him. He scanned Draco's memories quickly for some reference to disembodied voice magic to no avail.
There was no response. The book was still as was the entirety of the library. Harry's ears picked up the rustle of the occupants of the paintings outside the library's doors, but he neither sensed nor heard anything in the library itself.
"Harry James Potter. Born of Charms Mistress Lily Marie Potter née Potter and Lord James Archibald Potter of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter. Marked an illegitimate bearer of the legacy of Slytherin. Descendant of Celestria Gryffindor, eldest of Godric Gryffindor and Rowena Ravenclaw. Deemed a vessel of Magic. You are accepted."
What... the... blood.. fuck? The voice did not have a particular masculine or feminine quality to it, but carried the tone of multiple individuals speaking at once through. Not making this any less creepy.
Harry realized then that it was the book speaking to him, of him. He felt cold, figurative water trickle over his back. He did not have to consult Draco's memories to know that a talking book wasn't necessarily nor normally a good sign.
He was at lost for words. What do you say to a book?
"You may retract your magic, Lord Potter. We mean you no harm." The hovering book said.
The fact that the mouthless book spoke of harm made Harry and his magic tense even more. He and the book must have remained in that position for quite some time before his magic relented.
The room emptied of sound and motion. Harry wasn't even sure if he was breathing.
He considered calling Draco, but he could feel the relaxed waves of slumber flowing from Draco to him through the bond. Trying to wake the blond would be pointless, and even if he woke him, Draco was more likely to berate him for breaking into the section.
"What do you want from me?" He asked, putting some tenacity in his voice.
The voice chortled. "It is not we who want something from you, however you who need something from us."
The use of the plural substantiated his assumption that there were multiple voices speaking to him in unison. He felt his magic begin to stir.
"I am not sure what you all mean. What exactly do I need from you?"
His question was meet by silence.
Harry was starting to get anxious when the book suddenly flew to the floor again. He approached it slowly.
It looked just as old, torn and used as it had the moment he first saw it. He gasped as he read the title that was now present on the cover of the book.
Fundamental Gneisto- Survival Guide for Magik's Chosen
He picked the book up to examine it more closely. The picture on the front of the book was no longer of a random man, but it was of him surrounded by fiery magic.
What the f-.
He stopped mid-thought.
There was a sudden burning on his wrist. He tried to let go of the book to rub it, but the book seemed to be glued to his hands.
He cried out in agony. For once, his magic did nothing to stop the pain. The lights he had created all disappeared. He was plunged into darkness, smelling the obvious burning of his own skin. The skin on his wrist was bright red.
He yelped in surprise and agony as the skin on his wrist suddenly caught fire. He tried to blow it out. He gave up as it only made the burning worse though it did not spread.
Bathroom, water!
He tripped over the box of stolen books as he ran out of that section of the library with the book glued to his hands, the skin on his right wrist on fire, and in extreme agony. His wrist functioned as a torch in the pitch-black library.
As soon as he reached the stairs, the fire on his wrist extinguished itself. Harry barely registered the lights flickering back on as the book dropped out of his hands. He immediately grabbed his right wrist and clutched it protectively. His magic stirred cautiously, as if something would happen if he healed himself.
The fire left a red circle surrounding three beams etched in puffed up, irritated skin. The arched beam in the middle towered over the two flanking it on both sides. As his magic healed the symbol, it settled on a pinkish, red hue.
Despite the pain he was in, Harry stared at his wrist in amazement.
"The ritual is complete with the branding. All hail Lord Harry James Potter of the Noble and Ancient House of Potter, Magik's Chosen." Voiced the book. "Let him be one with magic."
Harry glanced at it. The symbol that burned his wrist now graced the cover of the book in gold.
Harry sensed someone moving about in the house near the library. Not wanting to risk getting caught red handed, literally, with stolen books on the staircase in the library, he quickly picked up the book with his picture on it and rushed back into Voldemort's section of the library.
He willed his magic to summon and shrink all of the books present and stuff them in the box that he summoned earlier. He didn't want to miss any information by being picky, especially if any of the other books were specifically for him like the one he held under his arm.
In seconds, all of the shelves were bare. He shrank and pocketed the box before he exited the room. He listened for the person near the library. They were directly in front of the library now. Harry could sense that it was Draco from the warmth and curiosity that came through the bond.
He called on his magic to make Voldemort's section of the library look as though he had never touched it.
He merely blinked and it appeared as it had before he destroyed the entrance. There seemed to be books on the shelves and his conjured table disappeared. He was shocked by the detail his magic put into the illusion.
The only thing that was absent was the feeling of dark magic. Harry was sure that he did not want to, nor did he know how to, replicate that magic.
He didn't spend more than ten seconds admiring his work before he quickly shrank the book in his hands and put it in his pocket.
Draco? He asked as he rushed down the stairs to the third level, pulled a random book off of the shelf and plopped down in a random chair.
Potter? Harry looked down towards the entrance of the library to see Draco's blond head peak into the library.
"Up here." He said getting the guy's attention.
He got up slowly, as if he had been sitting in the same spot for a while. He stretched his legs.
Draco looked him up and down when he got to where Harry was. "You look like shit."
"The book was intense." Harry said simply.
He knew he could lie to Draco and Draco could not tell. Draco had told him a day or two ago that he could only hear Harry if Harry talked to him directly through their connection. He had to wait for his magic and the connection to mature before he could peer into Harry, as Harry peered into his mind.
Draco shot the book in his hands a brief look before laughing. "You find Hogwarts: A History intense? Just wait until you get there!"
Harry grinned as he noted the success of his mission. He happily threw one arm around Draco's shoulders, surprising the blond.
"Why are you so happy?" He asked Harry. "I don't think I've seen you smile yet."
I just robbed the bloke you called the most powerful dark wizard of the past three centuries.
Harry merely smiled at him before he laughed and put the book back. "I'm just excited for some reason. I think the bond is affecting me."
"Well, feel free to share." Draco replied, still suspicious of the smiling Harry.
Harry pushed his magic cheerfully through his arm into the blond, feeling him relax instantly.
Harry felt his right wrist tingle slightly where he was now marked. He lost himself to his thoughts as he steered Draco out of the library and back to his bedroom.
That book better be good.
.
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