Transcending the Bullshit, Chapter 15
By Goddess JacquesPierre
Disclaimer: I hear that JK is richer than the Queen of England. I hope she can share. I don't own them.
Rating: R
Warnings: Frequent shift of format, possibly shifting POV, slash, angst, masochism, now drug use/abuse, I s'pose. Did I leave out language? There's a lot of it, cause it's a text document.
Author's Note: Aaah! The Fifth Book... I can't believe... *hits JK with a stick* Don't kill him, JK, not him!
***
It was a few rather uneventful days later that Dumbledore made an announcement over dinner.
Draco was at the end of the Slytherin table, nursing a particularly nasty cut that Harry couldn't seem to cure. He'd stopped going to his dorm at night, but Pansy was intelligent enough to find him, corner him, and torture him.
It was like a dream come true when he heard the words 'dorm change' come out of the Professor's lips.
'I know that you are all probably quite content in your Houses,' Dumbledore remarked, sparking a wave of bitter thought from Draco, 'but the current situation merits a change. As such, I have changed the sleeping arrangements in hope that it will prevent some damage from being done. I must request, also, that you not share your sleeping arrangements with anyone. It simply poses too much risk. You will be told your new dormitory assignments at some point during the day.'
Draco rejoiced. He knew that Dumbledore was aware of the collective activities of Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle, and was thankful that he would be given a new place to hide. Also, he reflected, it would be nice to have his clothes accessible for changing in the morning, rather than in the middle of his first class of the day to avoid his assailants.
***
Harry was a bit perturbed. Dumbledore had quite the sense of humour, placing the entrance to his room in the hallway next to the ladder that led to the Divination classroom. Even less pleasing was the revelation that his, ah, favourite painting had been chosen to stand guard.
Harry glared at Sir Cadogen. 'You again?' He had been given his room assignment, and found himself rather less than amused that the knight was to be the one guarding it.
The painting nodded. 'I have been selected through virtuous trial to be the guardian of the dorm of the Boy who Lived, an honour beyond all I have encountered previously!' Sir Cadogen paused thoughtfully. 'Though I can't say I care for your roommate. He's a pretty little thing, but is a bit thin.'
'He?' Harry asked. 'Who?'
The knight shrugged in a cacophony of clanking metal. 'He's in there.'
'Fine then. Do I need a password?'
'No, good sir! As a precaution, only those who belong in the dorms are allowed in.'
The painting swung forward, revealing a ladder. Harry reluctantly began to climb down, as the entrance swung shut and everything went black.
He had counted the rungs-- there were thirty-six before it opened into a passage that tilted downward in a spiral.
The pitch black was beginning to grate on his nerves when he saw a light in the darkness. Rather than amusing the author, he ignored the reference and determinedly walked toward it, fighting the urge to start singing and hoping like hell that he wouldn't find an insane transvestite from another planet when he walked in.
He opened the door and saw three or four candles burning on a sideboard. There was a fluffy bed, upon which a slim blonde slept, shirtless and sprawled on his back across the mattress. He sported a colourful array of bruises across his chest and long cut down his left arm that was only half-healed.
'Draco...' Harry murmured before diving for his wand to heal some of the damage.
The bruises went fairly easily, but Harry could barely make the cut heal. Sighing, he shook Draco gently.
The blonde opened his eyes a bit, yawned, and stretched lithely, re-opening his cut arm, which began to bleed again.
Harry waved his wand again. 'What did they DO to you?' he asked.
Draco blinked prettily. 'Um... I can't quite remember. I'm sorry, that must have been one of those times I was unconscious.'
Harry conjured up a roll of bandaging and took care of the arm. 'Try not to let them do it again, though.'
'I don't have much of a choice.'
'I know. Just try, though, please. And be careful what you do with that arm, I can barely fix it once, let alone keep fixing it.'
Draco stretched again, carefully this time, and beckoned Harry onto the bed with him. The two boys curled up together and fell asleep.
***
In the Ministry of Magic, Cornelius Fudge was up late, working on a speech for his upcoming press conference the following week. He had assumed that he was completely safe, but he had forgotten how old the cast-iron candelabra hanging from his ceiling above his head was. The chain had rusted through some time ago, however, because he had been too busy to take care of his office, it was a nasty shock to him when it came crashing down on his head, instantly killing him (A/N: I don't like Fudge. Sorry if any fans happen to be reading this).
Percy Weasley, who happened to be next door working on a progress report about the possible effects that the sale of alcohol might have on Wizarding Society, heard the crash and rushed in immediately. Though nothing could be done for the late Minister of Magic, he called Dumbledore, who rushed out immediately to take care of matters.
***
After the Headmaster left, Professor McGonagall was in her study with a large mug of chamomile tea, trying somewhat unsuccessfully to sleep. However much she would have liked to hide it, she was extremely worried about the safety of her student body, even more so because she was afraid Dumbledore might not make it back.
Much to her displeasure, though, just as she thought she might have been able to drift off, a knock sounded on her door.
She opened the door, scowling and with her wand at ready.
She found Professor Trelawney looking rather small and scared in her doorway. 'Minerva... I saw in my crystal ball that tonight, you would not be able to sleep, either. I was... lonely and frightened, and thought that we could better serve our students as a united force than separate, sleepless and brooding in our respective chambers.'
Professor McGonagall looked at her colleague. 'Sibyll, you must realise I do not hold with such nonsense as divination...'
Professor Trelawney shook her head. 'Even without divination, it is common sense to know that our Headmaster may or may not be returning tomorrow. I suggest, also, that you call on Severus, as I don't believe he is sleeping, either.'
Professor McGonagall looked into her fireplace at Professor Trelawney's advice. She spoke sharply: 'Severus! I should like a word.'
The fireplace coughed a cloud of smoke into their faces. After the smoke cleared, Professor Snape's head showed up in the flame. It looked rather disgruntled.
'What is it?' the Potions teacher asked.
'Cornelius Fudge has recently died-- something about an iron candelabra falling on his head. I was wondering how exactly we were going to run Hogwart's if Dumbledore finds himself the new Minister of Magic, voluntarily or not.'
Snape still was wearing an extremely grouchy expression. 'Can't it wait until tomorrow?'
Professor McGonagall glared at Professor Trelawney. 'I thought you said he wasn't able to sleep, either?'
Professor Trelawney fidgeted nervously. 'Actually, I just checked to see which Hogwart's professors were awake...'
'But then, if he's already awake, how come he insists--'
The question was abruptly answered by a rich, cultured baritone from the direction of the fireplace. 'Severus, darling, are you coming back?'
Professor McGonagall stared incredulously at Snape. 'Was that... Lucius Malfoy?'
Snape suddenly looked rather uncomfortable. 'Minerva, I regret to leave you, however, I'm quite certain that this can all be discussed tomorrow.' Pointedly, he said 'Good night' before his head left the fireplace, leaving Professor McGonagall staring into the flames.
***
At three o'clock in the morning, Professor Dumbledore smiled. 'Then it's all settled. Arthur Weasley will become the new Minister of Magic. Excellent. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a school to run.'
***
Ginny Weasley awoke around four o'clock in the morning, rubbed her eyes, and stepped out of bed. She felt rather hungry, and so decided to go downstairs to the kitchen for a cheese sandwich and a mug of hot chocolate.
When she reached the kitchen, she was met by Dobby, who blocked the entranceway, assuring the youngest Weasley that she would do better to wait for him to get her something, rather than go inside.
However, Dobby's body was not enough to completely obscure the scene in the kitchen-- approximately half of the house-elves were lying on the floor, bleeding.
She thanked Dobby for his effort and ran off to find Dumbledore.
***
The next morning, Harry woke up with a contented, warm feeling in the pit of his stomach. He rolled out of bed, showered, and dressed before waking Draco, who rolled over, muttering something about it being too early in the morning, until Harry threatened to hex him.
Draco sat bolt upright. A note had appeared on the sideboard and was glowing a nasty shade of violent orange that would have looked fine in Ron's room but was glaringly out of place in the room, which was decorated in pale green and white.
Harry absently picked it up and began to read it. After a moment, he looked up. Draco was halfway out of his shower, wearing a fluffy white towel. 'We have our first self-defence class after breakfast today,' Harry told him.
Draco walked across the room and began to get dressed. 'Where is it?'
'It's in the second dungeon to the left of the Potions classroom, instead of Care of Magical Creatures.'
Draco finished pulling his robe on. 'Excellent!'
Harry looked hurt. 'What?'
'It's not like it's a particularly good class. It's nothing against Hagrid, Harry, but that class is somewhat of a joke.'
Harry sighed. 'Still.'
***
At breakfast that morning, the students found that the House tables had disappeared, to be replaced with small table with four spots each. Hermione rushed over when she saw Harry walk in with Draco. She grabbed them both by the wrist and dragged them over to a table she was sharing with Padma Patil.
'This is my roommate, Harry. I hope you two get along!'
Padma glared at both boys sourly, but perked up when plates of food appeared at the table.
There was little conversation until two strange owls swooped over thier table, delivering a black envelope to each Harry and Draco. They shrugged and opened them.
'CRUCIATUS!'
Harry and Draco both fell backward with the unexpected pain, their chairs crashing noisily on the floor. Dumbledore rushed over immediately and waved his wand. The pain stopped, and Harry and Draco righted themselves, both panting and shaken.
Dumbledore looked concerned. 'I think you both had better come with me,' he said, beckoning the two boys out of the Great Hall.
Transcending the Bullshit, Chapter 16
By Goddess JacquesPierre
Disclaimer: Not mine. Sorry. There is no money to be made suing me.
Rating: R
Warnings: Frequent shift of format, possibly shifiting POV, slash, angst, masochism, now drug use/abuse, I s'pose. Did I leave out language? There's a lot of it, cause it's a text document.
Notes:
Kami-sama! Thank you very much! I feel so stupid now, he, he, I should know it's Crucio, but... rrrargh. This shows something. This shows very much that I haven't read any of the Harry Potter books in far too long. Comes of being an anime addict. Go figure. Sorry. I cannot believe I made such a stupid mistake... now, should I fix it, or leave it, or keep being wrong...?
I'm going to try to pretend the fifth book didn't happen because it kinda fucks with the fic. I'm sure that you all can understand it. *makes face at JK* I was here, well, not first, but before book 5! Or, I could pretend it's Umbridge/Petunia instead of Skeeter/Petunia, which actually sort of works better, but... arrgh. I don't feel like making the effort, and it would be kinda weird to change the storyline. Or, maybe I'll just decide what I want to take from the fifth book. Whatever.
***
Dumbledore led the two boys out of the Great Hall. 'I think you two had best be careful. Another attack like that, were I not there, could prove disastrous. Thus, it is doubly important that you two are working on your extra lessons with Professor Snape. However, there is a spell designed to check mail, developed by celebrity witches and wizards sick of getting hexes in an envelope. I shall instruct Snape to teach it to you.' He paused to unwrap a lemon drop. 'Are you both all right?'
Harry nodded, Draco stared into space, shaking slightly.
Dumbledore sighed. 'Ah well, you had best be off. Enjoy your lessons.'
Both boys listlessly wandered off to the dungeons to find Professor Snape.
***
After a long lesson during which Snape taught them various warding spells in addition to the one that Dumbledore had taught them and a rather uneventful lunch, Harry and Draco parted ways-- Draco to History of Magic, and Harry to Divination.
***
Pansy waited for Draco to fall asleep before she discreetly pulled out her wand. In his binder, she knew, he kept his store of Pixie. With a nimble wave of it and a nasty smirk, she replaced the powder with the rather potent aphrodisiac that her father had sent her upon her request.
***
Later that day, during dinner, Harry had fallen asleep. Darco shrugged and tipped some of his Pixie into Harry's goblet of pumpkin juice before doing the same to his own. The rest of the meal, after Hermione prodded him awake with Padma's quill, went quickly.
***
Pansy was in her new solitary dorm around eleven. She glanced at the hands of her watch: she had spelled the packet to let her know when Draco had used it. Somewhat to her disappointment, he had chosen not to do so over breakfast, but she was content that it was, indeed, about to work, and that it would not wear off until Draco had found a lover to do something about it.
***
Neither Harry nor Draco, to the latter's great surprise, showed any effect to the drug. Harry curled up into Draco's side, his head on the latter's chest and fell asleep almost instantly. The new warding spells that Snape had taught them eased the worry of Voldemort in the back of Harry's mind.
Draco, however, had other things on his mind, things that could not be eased by a Silencing Spell or the Olive Hex Ward.
It was ten-forty-five by the lumnescent clock that Harry had conjured next to the bed. Draco had been lying awake for a bit now, trying to figure out just why the Pixie had had no effect on either of them. It was only when he gave up trying to figure out what had gone wrong and started to drift off to sleep when Harry reawakened with a soft moan and leaned over to kiss Draco.
Draco was more than a little bit surprised, but he felt himself responding rapidly to Harry's tongue and slid over, closer to his boyfriend, to achieve closer contact.
He was, however, shocked when Harry started tugging impatiently at the buttons down the front of his pyjamas. They had agreed to abstain from this sort of activity on weeknights because they did have appearances to maintain and classes to stay awake in-- but, somehow, tonight he didn't want to. The pyjama top ripped down the front, and Harry wrestled Draco forcefully out of it the rest of the way. His mouth descended on Draco's chest urgently, and the latter decided that it would be perfectly permissible to return the conduct, ripping Harry's shirt from sleeve to sleeve, then down the front. It fell off neatly, in a pile under Harry. Draco went for Harry's throat as Harry began fiddling with his pants, sliding cold hands under the waistband to rest on hipbones that jutted perhaps a bit too much... it hadn't been long enough since vacation for Draco to regain the weight he had lost, especially with the added trauma of Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy weighing heavily on his body's already-depleted resources.
Draco 'mmm'ed lightly as he felt Harry's Quidditch-hardened hands slowly warm to his skin. It felt so good, and, despite the fact that they had class the next day and the timing was far from perfect, he needed the contact. Were it a bit earlier in the day, he would have wondered at his sudden change of mood-- slightly sleepy to instantly aroused-- and would have asked questions. He was tired enough not to ask any funny questions, and instead attempted to achieve the maximum amount of physical contact possible.
Some time later (yes, not only am I a lazy author, I'm trying not to push my luck), Harry shifted, rolling Draco onto his stomach. Draco's pyjama bottoms were in seven or eight pieces in the corner of the room. Harry's were only in two or three, one of which had landed on the sideboard in a crumpled heap. Draco twisted his neck back, seeking Harry's lips even as he was pressed hard onto the mattress with Harry's hand gracing his behind.
A bit later, sometime after Harry had moved his lips off Draco's to bite the tender flesh joining neck to shoulder, Draco moaned for the first time and found that he could not stop. A river of sound that stopped only when he choked on breath caught deep in his throat poured from between pale, bruised, and rather swollen lips.
Afterwards, neither Harry nor Draco knew quite what to call it, be it lovemaking, fucking, or just plain sex, but whatever it was called, it was savage (and for that reason alone, it had been electric).
***
The next morning, Draco woke some time before dawn; his ass hurt. The previous night's activity became as clear as the oversized diamonds in the necklace his father had bought his mother as he recalled the unusual mood swing he had experienced the previous night and Pansy's smirk after History of Magic. The girl had replaced the Pixie with an aphrodisiac, and probably a highly illegal one, for the level of potency at which it worked. He would have to explain the situation to Harry. He shook the other boy gently.
"WHAT?" exclaimed Harry after Draco had spoken his piece. "You drugged my pumpkin juice?"
"I was only trying to get you to loosen up about the drug thing!" Draco replied in self-defense.
"That was exactly the wrong way to go about it. As a matter of fact, I think this should be a lesson to you about how dangerous drugs can be. One of us could be seriously hurt right now, simply because you felt it was important to meddle with your state of mind."
Draco looked down ruefully. Harry was right, he had been far too lax in a matter that he perhaps should not have been dabbling in at all. Through a haze of guilt, he nodded.
"Also, Draco, how am I supposed to trust you if you are trying to drug me without my knowledge? Even if it had turned out as you had planned, I still wouldn't be able to trust you fully, and trust is essential, especially now that we're facing Voldemort. How are either of us supposed to sleep if we can't trust the other?"
Draco nodded again. Harry was right, again, and it was something he shouldn't've done. "It seemed like a good idea at the time," he said lamely.
Harry sighed. "You should have thought it all the way through before you tried it." He paused to take a deep breath. "That's not quite what I meant to say. Draco, I can't have a relationship with someone I can't trust completely. I'm obviously going to be the only one in Voldemort's way in the future, and it's not only my life but the life of my friends if I am betrayed. I'm sorry, but... this has to stop. Not if I can't trust you."
Draco stared at Harry in disbelief. "You didn't seem to mind when you were shagging me last night." His tone was subdued.
"Last night, you had drugged me!" Harry said, somewhat hysterically. He took a few breaths to calm himself. "I thought we had something, but you betrayed my trust. You'll have to earn it back if you want to get it back-- if it was even there in the first place." He rose, dressed quickly, and left the room.
Draco was left staring at the door, shock and pain cast over his face. The pride that had been forced on him as he grew up was battling the urge to run after Harry and beg him to tell him what he could do to earn back the trust he had carelessly tossed aside. Old habits die hard. He got ready for the day quickly and went to breakfast, immersed in indecision.
***
Pansy was sitting at breakfast, waiting for Draco gleefully. There was no way he could have found a lover overnight, she told herself, before breakfast. He was never quite awake before he'd eaten. He'd find one quickly in all probability, but she'd at least get to see him squirm during breakfast.
When her target walked in totally comfortably, if lost in thought, Pansy was confused. The confusion lasted most of the day until she figured it out. Draco already had a lover, one he must be sharing a dorm with. The only question was this: who was it?
Pansy resolved to find out. This could prove to be a new and very interesting way to torture him.
By Goddess JacquesPierre
Disclaimer: I hear that JK is richer than the Queen of England. I hope she can share. I don't own them.
Rating: R
Warnings: Frequent shift of format, possibly shifting POV, slash, angst, masochism, now drug use/abuse, I s'pose. Did I leave out language? There's a lot of it, cause it's a text document.
Author's Note: Aaah! The Fifth Book... I can't believe... *hits JK with a stick* Don't kill him, JK, not him!
***
It was a few rather uneventful days later that Dumbledore made an announcement over dinner.
Draco was at the end of the Slytherin table, nursing a particularly nasty cut that Harry couldn't seem to cure. He'd stopped going to his dorm at night, but Pansy was intelligent enough to find him, corner him, and torture him.
It was like a dream come true when he heard the words 'dorm change' come out of the Professor's lips.
'I know that you are all probably quite content in your Houses,' Dumbledore remarked, sparking a wave of bitter thought from Draco, 'but the current situation merits a change. As such, I have changed the sleeping arrangements in hope that it will prevent some damage from being done. I must request, also, that you not share your sleeping arrangements with anyone. It simply poses too much risk. You will be told your new dormitory assignments at some point during the day.'
Draco rejoiced. He knew that Dumbledore was aware of the collective activities of Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle, and was thankful that he would be given a new place to hide. Also, he reflected, it would be nice to have his clothes accessible for changing in the morning, rather than in the middle of his first class of the day to avoid his assailants.
***
Harry was a bit perturbed. Dumbledore had quite the sense of humour, placing the entrance to his room in the hallway next to the ladder that led to the Divination classroom. Even less pleasing was the revelation that his, ah, favourite painting had been chosen to stand guard.
Harry glared at Sir Cadogen. 'You again?' He had been given his room assignment, and found himself rather less than amused that the knight was to be the one guarding it.
The painting nodded. 'I have been selected through virtuous trial to be the guardian of the dorm of the Boy who Lived, an honour beyond all I have encountered previously!' Sir Cadogen paused thoughtfully. 'Though I can't say I care for your roommate. He's a pretty little thing, but is a bit thin.'
'He?' Harry asked. 'Who?'
The knight shrugged in a cacophony of clanking metal. 'He's in there.'
'Fine then. Do I need a password?'
'No, good sir! As a precaution, only those who belong in the dorms are allowed in.'
The painting swung forward, revealing a ladder. Harry reluctantly began to climb down, as the entrance swung shut and everything went black.
He had counted the rungs-- there were thirty-six before it opened into a passage that tilted downward in a spiral.
The pitch black was beginning to grate on his nerves when he saw a light in the darkness. Rather than amusing the author, he ignored the reference and determinedly walked toward it, fighting the urge to start singing and hoping like hell that he wouldn't find an insane transvestite from another planet when he walked in.
He opened the door and saw three or four candles burning on a sideboard. There was a fluffy bed, upon which a slim blonde slept, shirtless and sprawled on his back across the mattress. He sported a colourful array of bruises across his chest and long cut down his left arm that was only half-healed.
'Draco...' Harry murmured before diving for his wand to heal some of the damage.
The bruises went fairly easily, but Harry could barely make the cut heal. Sighing, he shook Draco gently.
The blonde opened his eyes a bit, yawned, and stretched lithely, re-opening his cut arm, which began to bleed again.
Harry waved his wand again. 'What did they DO to you?' he asked.
Draco blinked prettily. 'Um... I can't quite remember. I'm sorry, that must have been one of those times I was unconscious.'
Harry conjured up a roll of bandaging and took care of the arm. 'Try not to let them do it again, though.'
'I don't have much of a choice.'
'I know. Just try, though, please. And be careful what you do with that arm, I can barely fix it once, let alone keep fixing it.'
Draco stretched again, carefully this time, and beckoned Harry onto the bed with him. The two boys curled up together and fell asleep.
***
In the Ministry of Magic, Cornelius Fudge was up late, working on a speech for his upcoming press conference the following week. He had assumed that he was completely safe, but he had forgotten how old the cast-iron candelabra hanging from his ceiling above his head was. The chain had rusted through some time ago, however, because he had been too busy to take care of his office, it was a nasty shock to him when it came crashing down on his head, instantly killing him (A/N: I don't like Fudge. Sorry if any fans happen to be reading this).
Percy Weasley, who happened to be next door working on a progress report about the possible effects that the sale of alcohol might have on Wizarding Society, heard the crash and rushed in immediately. Though nothing could be done for the late Minister of Magic, he called Dumbledore, who rushed out immediately to take care of matters.
***
After the Headmaster left, Professor McGonagall was in her study with a large mug of chamomile tea, trying somewhat unsuccessfully to sleep. However much she would have liked to hide it, she was extremely worried about the safety of her student body, even more so because she was afraid Dumbledore might not make it back.
Much to her displeasure, though, just as she thought she might have been able to drift off, a knock sounded on her door.
She opened the door, scowling and with her wand at ready.
She found Professor Trelawney looking rather small and scared in her doorway. 'Minerva... I saw in my crystal ball that tonight, you would not be able to sleep, either. I was... lonely and frightened, and thought that we could better serve our students as a united force than separate, sleepless and brooding in our respective chambers.'
Professor McGonagall looked at her colleague. 'Sibyll, you must realise I do not hold with such nonsense as divination...'
Professor Trelawney shook her head. 'Even without divination, it is common sense to know that our Headmaster may or may not be returning tomorrow. I suggest, also, that you call on Severus, as I don't believe he is sleeping, either.'
Professor McGonagall looked into her fireplace at Professor Trelawney's advice. She spoke sharply: 'Severus! I should like a word.'
The fireplace coughed a cloud of smoke into their faces. After the smoke cleared, Professor Snape's head showed up in the flame. It looked rather disgruntled.
'What is it?' the Potions teacher asked.
'Cornelius Fudge has recently died-- something about an iron candelabra falling on his head. I was wondering how exactly we were going to run Hogwart's if Dumbledore finds himself the new Minister of Magic, voluntarily or not.'
Snape still was wearing an extremely grouchy expression. 'Can't it wait until tomorrow?'
Professor McGonagall glared at Professor Trelawney. 'I thought you said he wasn't able to sleep, either?'
Professor Trelawney fidgeted nervously. 'Actually, I just checked to see which Hogwart's professors were awake...'
'But then, if he's already awake, how come he insists--'
The question was abruptly answered by a rich, cultured baritone from the direction of the fireplace. 'Severus, darling, are you coming back?'
Professor McGonagall stared incredulously at Snape. 'Was that... Lucius Malfoy?'
Snape suddenly looked rather uncomfortable. 'Minerva, I regret to leave you, however, I'm quite certain that this can all be discussed tomorrow.' Pointedly, he said 'Good night' before his head left the fireplace, leaving Professor McGonagall staring into the flames.
***
At three o'clock in the morning, Professor Dumbledore smiled. 'Then it's all settled. Arthur Weasley will become the new Minister of Magic. Excellent. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a school to run.'
***
Ginny Weasley awoke around four o'clock in the morning, rubbed her eyes, and stepped out of bed. She felt rather hungry, and so decided to go downstairs to the kitchen for a cheese sandwich and a mug of hot chocolate.
When she reached the kitchen, she was met by Dobby, who blocked the entranceway, assuring the youngest Weasley that she would do better to wait for him to get her something, rather than go inside.
However, Dobby's body was not enough to completely obscure the scene in the kitchen-- approximately half of the house-elves were lying on the floor, bleeding.
She thanked Dobby for his effort and ran off to find Dumbledore.
***
The next morning, Harry woke up with a contented, warm feeling in the pit of his stomach. He rolled out of bed, showered, and dressed before waking Draco, who rolled over, muttering something about it being too early in the morning, until Harry threatened to hex him.
Draco sat bolt upright. A note had appeared on the sideboard and was glowing a nasty shade of violent orange that would have looked fine in Ron's room but was glaringly out of place in the room, which was decorated in pale green and white.
Harry absently picked it up and began to read it. After a moment, he looked up. Draco was halfway out of his shower, wearing a fluffy white towel. 'We have our first self-defence class after breakfast today,' Harry told him.
Draco walked across the room and began to get dressed. 'Where is it?'
'It's in the second dungeon to the left of the Potions classroom, instead of Care of Magical Creatures.'
Draco finished pulling his robe on. 'Excellent!'
Harry looked hurt. 'What?'
'It's not like it's a particularly good class. It's nothing against Hagrid, Harry, but that class is somewhat of a joke.'
Harry sighed. 'Still.'
***
At breakfast that morning, the students found that the House tables had disappeared, to be replaced with small table with four spots each. Hermione rushed over when she saw Harry walk in with Draco. She grabbed them both by the wrist and dragged them over to a table she was sharing with Padma Patil.
'This is my roommate, Harry. I hope you two get along!'
Padma glared at both boys sourly, but perked up when plates of food appeared at the table.
There was little conversation until two strange owls swooped over thier table, delivering a black envelope to each Harry and Draco. They shrugged and opened them.
'CRUCIATUS!'
Harry and Draco both fell backward with the unexpected pain, their chairs crashing noisily on the floor. Dumbledore rushed over immediately and waved his wand. The pain stopped, and Harry and Draco righted themselves, both panting and shaken.
Dumbledore looked concerned. 'I think you both had better come with me,' he said, beckoning the two boys out of the Great Hall.
Transcending the Bullshit, Chapter 16
By Goddess JacquesPierre
Disclaimer: Not mine. Sorry. There is no money to be made suing me.
Rating: R
Warnings: Frequent shift of format, possibly shifiting POV, slash, angst, masochism, now drug use/abuse, I s'pose. Did I leave out language? There's a lot of it, cause it's a text document.
Notes:
Kami-sama! Thank you very much! I feel so stupid now, he, he, I should know it's Crucio, but... rrrargh. This shows something. This shows very much that I haven't read any of the Harry Potter books in far too long. Comes of being an anime addict. Go figure. Sorry. I cannot believe I made such a stupid mistake... now, should I fix it, or leave it, or keep being wrong...?
I'm going to try to pretend the fifth book didn't happen because it kinda fucks with the fic. I'm sure that you all can understand it. *makes face at JK* I was here, well, not first, but before book 5! Or, I could pretend it's Umbridge/Petunia instead of Skeeter/Petunia, which actually sort of works better, but... arrgh. I don't feel like making the effort, and it would be kinda weird to change the storyline. Or, maybe I'll just decide what I want to take from the fifth book. Whatever.
***
Dumbledore led the two boys out of the Great Hall. 'I think you two had best be careful. Another attack like that, were I not there, could prove disastrous. Thus, it is doubly important that you two are working on your extra lessons with Professor Snape. However, there is a spell designed to check mail, developed by celebrity witches and wizards sick of getting hexes in an envelope. I shall instruct Snape to teach it to you.' He paused to unwrap a lemon drop. 'Are you both all right?'
Harry nodded, Draco stared into space, shaking slightly.
Dumbledore sighed. 'Ah well, you had best be off. Enjoy your lessons.'
Both boys listlessly wandered off to the dungeons to find Professor Snape.
***
After a long lesson during which Snape taught them various warding spells in addition to the one that Dumbledore had taught them and a rather uneventful lunch, Harry and Draco parted ways-- Draco to History of Magic, and Harry to Divination.
***
Pansy waited for Draco to fall asleep before she discreetly pulled out her wand. In his binder, she knew, he kept his store of Pixie. With a nimble wave of it and a nasty smirk, she replaced the powder with the rather potent aphrodisiac that her father had sent her upon her request.
***
Later that day, during dinner, Harry had fallen asleep. Darco shrugged and tipped some of his Pixie into Harry's goblet of pumpkin juice before doing the same to his own. The rest of the meal, after Hermione prodded him awake with Padma's quill, went quickly.
***
Pansy was in her new solitary dorm around eleven. She glanced at the hands of her watch: she had spelled the packet to let her know when Draco had used it. Somewhat to her disappointment, he had chosen not to do so over breakfast, but she was content that it was, indeed, about to work, and that it would not wear off until Draco had found a lover to do something about it.
***
Neither Harry nor Draco, to the latter's great surprise, showed any effect to the drug. Harry curled up into Draco's side, his head on the latter's chest and fell asleep almost instantly. The new warding spells that Snape had taught them eased the worry of Voldemort in the back of Harry's mind.
Draco, however, had other things on his mind, things that could not be eased by a Silencing Spell or the Olive Hex Ward.
It was ten-forty-five by the lumnescent clock that Harry had conjured next to the bed. Draco had been lying awake for a bit now, trying to figure out just why the Pixie had had no effect on either of them. It was only when he gave up trying to figure out what had gone wrong and started to drift off to sleep when Harry reawakened with a soft moan and leaned over to kiss Draco.
Draco was more than a little bit surprised, but he felt himself responding rapidly to Harry's tongue and slid over, closer to his boyfriend, to achieve closer contact.
He was, however, shocked when Harry started tugging impatiently at the buttons down the front of his pyjamas. They had agreed to abstain from this sort of activity on weeknights because they did have appearances to maintain and classes to stay awake in-- but, somehow, tonight he didn't want to. The pyjama top ripped down the front, and Harry wrestled Draco forcefully out of it the rest of the way. His mouth descended on Draco's chest urgently, and the latter decided that it would be perfectly permissible to return the conduct, ripping Harry's shirt from sleeve to sleeve, then down the front. It fell off neatly, in a pile under Harry. Draco went for Harry's throat as Harry began fiddling with his pants, sliding cold hands under the waistband to rest on hipbones that jutted perhaps a bit too much... it hadn't been long enough since vacation for Draco to regain the weight he had lost, especially with the added trauma of Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy weighing heavily on his body's already-depleted resources.
Draco 'mmm'ed lightly as he felt Harry's Quidditch-hardened hands slowly warm to his skin. It felt so good, and, despite the fact that they had class the next day and the timing was far from perfect, he needed the contact. Were it a bit earlier in the day, he would have wondered at his sudden change of mood-- slightly sleepy to instantly aroused-- and would have asked questions. He was tired enough not to ask any funny questions, and instead attempted to achieve the maximum amount of physical contact possible.
Some time later (yes, not only am I a lazy author, I'm trying not to push my luck), Harry shifted, rolling Draco onto his stomach. Draco's pyjama bottoms were in seven or eight pieces in the corner of the room. Harry's were only in two or three, one of which had landed on the sideboard in a crumpled heap. Draco twisted his neck back, seeking Harry's lips even as he was pressed hard onto the mattress with Harry's hand gracing his behind.
A bit later, sometime after Harry had moved his lips off Draco's to bite the tender flesh joining neck to shoulder, Draco moaned for the first time and found that he could not stop. A river of sound that stopped only when he choked on breath caught deep in his throat poured from between pale, bruised, and rather swollen lips.
Afterwards, neither Harry nor Draco knew quite what to call it, be it lovemaking, fucking, or just plain sex, but whatever it was called, it was savage (and for that reason alone, it had been electric).
***
The next morning, Draco woke some time before dawn; his ass hurt. The previous night's activity became as clear as the oversized diamonds in the necklace his father had bought his mother as he recalled the unusual mood swing he had experienced the previous night and Pansy's smirk after History of Magic. The girl had replaced the Pixie with an aphrodisiac, and probably a highly illegal one, for the level of potency at which it worked. He would have to explain the situation to Harry. He shook the other boy gently.
"WHAT?" exclaimed Harry after Draco had spoken his piece. "You drugged my pumpkin juice?"
"I was only trying to get you to loosen up about the drug thing!" Draco replied in self-defense.
"That was exactly the wrong way to go about it. As a matter of fact, I think this should be a lesson to you about how dangerous drugs can be. One of us could be seriously hurt right now, simply because you felt it was important to meddle with your state of mind."
Draco looked down ruefully. Harry was right, he had been far too lax in a matter that he perhaps should not have been dabbling in at all. Through a haze of guilt, he nodded.
"Also, Draco, how am I supposed to trust you if you are trying to drug me without my knowledge? Even if it had turned out as you had planned, I still wouldn't be able to trust you fully, and trust is essential, especially now that we're facing Voldemort. How are either of us supposed to sleep if we can't trust the other?"
Draco nodded again. Harry was right, again, and it was something he shouldn't've done. "It seemed like a good idea at the time," he said lamely.
Harry sighed. "You should have thought it all the way through before you tried it." He paused to take a deep breath. "That's not quite what I meant to say. Draco, I can't have a relationship with someone I can't trust completely. I'm obviously going to be the only one in Voldemort's way in the future, and it's not only my life but the life of my friends if I am betrayed. I'm sorry, but... this has to stop. Not if I can't trust you."
Draco stared at Harry in disbelief. "You didn't seem to mind when you were shagging me last night." His tone was subdued.
"Last night, you had drugged me!" Harry said, somewhat hysterically. He took a few breaths to calm himself. "I thought we had something, but you betrayed my trust. You'll have to earn it back if you want to get it back-- if it was even there in the first place." He rose, dressed quickly, and left the room.
Draco was left staring at the door, shock and pain cast over his face. The pride that had been forced on him as he grew up was battling the urge to run after Harry and beg him to tell him what he could do to earn back the trust he had carelessly tossed aside. Old habits die hard. He got ready for the day quickly and went to breakfast, immersed in indecision.
***
Pansy was sitting at breakfast, waiting for Draco gleefully. There was no way he could have found a lover overnight, she told herself, before breakfast. He was never quite awake before he'd eaten. He'd find one quickly in all probability, but she'd at least get to see him squirm during breakfast.
When her target walked in totally comfortably, if lost in thought, Pansy was confused. The confusion lasted most of the day until she figured it out. Draco already had a lover, one he must be sharing a dorm with. The only question was this: who was it?
Pansy resolved to find out. This could prove to be a new and very interesting way to torture him.