Never Too Late
By: Catnip
A/N: The four of them end up in an alternate world, where they are separated. I'm not making this too long, though. Actually, I'm trying to make the entire fanfic as short as possible so that I can go ahead and continue doing my other stuff. Hehe. Enjoy!
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Chapter 4: A Whole New World
The wind blew across the barren glade, where tall trees stood in stark defiance to any trespasser that would come by its way. They were still, as silent as death until the blowing gale began to rustle its unforgiving leaves, passing through its unbending stillness, creating an eerie harmony of unspoken derision.
Two figures lay upon the unguarded ground, bare of any verdance, save for a single mark of green laden with silver upon the untainted black of the Hogwarts robes.
The first thing Harry laid his eyes on the moment he woke up was a wisp of feathery blond hair that glittered like silver beneath the rays of the glaring sun. He reached out to it, hoping to caress its smooth, silvery sinews, wondering if the finest of silk could ever be finer than one such as this.
The figure that lay before him stirred. It was then that Harry heard the uneven sound of labored breathing as the form moved from its side to lie on its back. Harry gasped at the sudden realization to who it was that lay before him, finding it hard to believe that his already-manifested attraction to the Slytherin boy had been magnified with that sudden realization of a deeper attraction.
His eyes slowly grazed over the fineness of the other boy's features as if in an attempt of committing them into memory, as if in an attempt to learn them, to know them, by heart. In silent longing, his eyes took in the severely delicate bone structure of Draco's breathtakingly pallid countenance where dark, ebony lashes caressed its creamy surface, seeming an even darker color beneath the summer rays. He studied in deep admiration the sweet, supple texture of red, red lips that ultimately challenged the authenticity of crimson. It was a striking combination to admire all at once. Draco was striking in himself, but more than that: he was beautiful. Not a mere shallow beauty that was often manifested, the kind that one knows would only be there but for a short period of time only to rot within the dismal and brooding presence of a depthless grave, unable to survive. What Draco had was a beauty filled to the brim with divine grace, god-like, undying, immortal, an unethereal beauty meant to survive forever, even in death.
Harry began to notice it in that single instant, as Draco lay in silent submission to the slumber that had overcome him hours before. Utter and inexplicable innocence that belied the hideousness of the heart that was within were wrought, and doubly magnified, by the beauty that reverberated throughout the bodily features of an incarnated soul… except the opposite of that soul.
He slapped himself awake, accidentally hitting the back of his head onto the sharp pebble that lay on the ground with extreme hardness. He paid no heed to it. "Dammit!" he hissed. What the heck was wrong with him! This was Malfoy for crying out loud! Since when did Malfoy become Draco! And since when did he, the Boy Who Lived, ever had any certain inclination towards homosexuality! He was no damn fag! And he was bent on murdering anyone who would even mistake him as one, even himself.
"DAMMIT!" he cried, feeling the pain of the bleeding bump for the first time.
Draco came awake. He did so in a blink of an eye. His eyes flew open the very instant the last syllable had fallen from Harry's lips. He sat up at that same instant, too, very nearly startling the momentarily-suicidal Boy Who Lived out of his wits, leaving Harry to hit his head once again.
The other boy ignored his cry of pain, as he looked about his environment with sudden alertness and dazed panic. He asked the only relevant question that the Boy Who Lived had failed to ask: "Where am I?"
"It's more like: 'where are we?'" Harry interrupted, as he painfully propped himself up from the ground with one elbow, while his other hand rubbed the freshly opened wound at the back of his head. He winced.
Finally on his feet, Draco whirled around to face him, and scowled, loosing all of the divine innocence that Harry had seen earlier while he was unconscious, altogether loosing his god-like appeal. When he spoke to him, it was in a sneer. "I wasn't talking to you, Potter, " he pointed out, " because obviously, you don't know."
"Oh. And you do?"
"I have better chances, yes."
"And what makes you so special?"
"What doesn't?"
Harry jumped to his feet. "Sniveling git."
"Sock-sucking numbskull."
"Megalomaniac."
"Pot-headed lame-brained acne-munching ass!"
"Thick-faced snot-smelling Muggle-lover!"
Draco struck.
Harry stumbled back to the ground with an audible thump, grunting as his head once again landed on a pebbly spot, making his head hurt even more. He wondered if it was already becoming a habit with him. Having pushed himself only partly off the barren ground, Harry felt the weight of Malfoy's heavy boots pound on his unguarded chest, sending him back into the dust, his head reeling from the force of this certain impact.
The disoriented boy, looked up to the scowling face of his assailant, and swore. "What do you think you're doing!" he spat.
Instead of answering, Malfoy pushed the heel of his boot harder unto Harry's chest in an attempt to crush all the bones that gave the Pot-headed idiot the nerve to call him one such as a Muggle-lover.
He sneered. "I hate Muggles, you know," Draco calmly put in, putting more force to Harry's ribs, crushing the air out his opponent. "And you know what I hate more than Muggles, Potter? It's people like you. People like you who are nothing more than insignificant little bugs trying to invade our world, inflicting us with your pathetic weaknesses, trying ever so hard to compete with beings you people know you can't match! Why don't you just go away!"
A sudden meow reverberated across the surrounding trees. Draco whipped around in great anticipation, recognizing the distinct and recognizable accent of its feline drawl.
He was right.
There, upon the irregular surface of a large rock just before him, as black as night as ever it had been, stood the golden-eyed feline in its ascending majesty, staring at him in an open remark of disapproval.
Reflecting the apprehension, Draco moved languidly towards the animal, taking light caution with every step that he took. He stopped, two feet away from the rock --- and the cat. They stared at each other for quite a while, each one ignoring the mildly injured Boy Who Lived as he got up from his dust bed with an occasional grunt.
Draco's hand suddenly shot out in a blink of an eye. In that same blink, the cat jumped from his calculated reach with a high feline growl, swiping the back of his hand with its exposed claws, and scampered away into the vastness of the unfamiliar woods that encircled them.
The startled boy jumped with a strangled cry, hissing at the sudden pain in his right hand. His hand, shaking with surprise, brought itself up, as he examined the three fresh and long gashes that marred the pale, creamy surface of his delicate skin with gritted teeth. Blood oozed freely from the open wounds, his sinews throbbing with the pain that it caused. He turned his hand into a fist, hoping that the action would ease the pain. It didn't.
"Damn!" he hissed, turning on his heels to face the Potter-boy once again.
What met him was a fist full of unrestrained fury.
It was his turn to topple back, hitting his head on the irregular surface of the ever-present rock. Fortunately, all he received was a massive bump to his head. Other than that, he also received a strong hit to his face, the impact causing his skin to work its way to manifest a visible bruise, which he did not appreciate in the least bit.
He staggered to his feet, glaring menacingly at the dark-haired boy that stood confidently before him. Harry was taller and heavier-built than Draco would ever be, making a frontal assault on the other boy a futile attempt. Draco saw his disadvantage there.
Predicting a case that he might get knocked off his feet again, Draco took several steps to the side, making sure that the unavoidable rock was as far from him as possible. However, he did not take the liberty of looking behind him to see if any other obstacles lay where he would most likely fall. He didn't want Harry to count that as a weakness, which it probably might have been.
Without warning, Harry charged, catching the blond boy off his guard. He leapt to the air almost immediately, ultimately knocking Draco off his feet and onto solid ground where the Slytherin Prefect felt the full disadvantage of having Harry's weight directly on top of him.
Harry took both of Draco's wrists in his hands, restraining the other boy from any counter attack he might have thought of. He had left his wand somewhere in the bedroom, he wasn't taking any chances should Malfoy be equipped with his own wand. He felt Draco struggle weakly against him as the slight boy was pinned helplessly beneath him.
"Damn you, Potter!" Draco spat.
"Damn you, Malfoy," Harry countered. "What in the Abyss were you trying to do! That damned cat might have been our only way out of this godforsaken place. You just ruined our chances of escaping with your damnable actions, you thoughtless git. How are we supposed to go back to school now!"
"I was trying to catch her, you imbecile!"
"But looked what happened! She escaped! Why? Because you have no brains to even think of the consequences if ever you did something as stupid as that! She's a damned cat! Cats have faster reflexes than you slimes have! How were you supposed to catch her then!"
"Don't you dare underestimate me, Potter! I am not one to be underestimated by insects such as yourself! How was I supposed to know she was that fast! What would you do if ever there was a cat to catch in front of you and an insect waiting to bite just right behind you!"
"Then, you shouldn't have bitten that insect first, you moron!" He took the other boy by the front of his robes, and in sheer frustration brought his face up to him, and bringing his head back to the ground with a thump. "You are so stupid!" he hissed.
Draco didn't answer. His head hurt too much. The pain had caused his head to be more than a trifle nauseated. What was more, Harry was sitting on his midriff, which gave him a harder time in breathing than he would have wanted. He breathed in gasps. "Damn you, Potter. You're heavy…" he breathed.
Harry blushed, only beginning to realize the other boy's troubles. He let Draco's robes go, getting himself off the Slytherin's slight sinews as well as the filthy ground. He watched silently as the Draco got to his feet in slow languid movements, calmly dusting himself off with nimble hands, all the while, keeping a good eye at Harry to keep the bespectacled boy from doing anything else. Harry's eyes took in the other boy's fragile appearance, and he was suddenly reminded that he was a marble statue compared to this delicate doll.
Doll?
He grinned inwardly, amused at his own metaphor, but didn't let it show. Picking up a sound other than his or Draco's breathing, his ears suddenly perked up. Something was coming, he could hear the distinct sound of boots crunching dried leaves and bark. Something was calling his name. No, someone. It was then that he realized that the voice seemed oddly familiar to his ears, like the remnant of a lost memory resurrected.
"Hermione?" he called out. "Hermione! Hermione, it's me! Where are you?"
Yet another voice pitched in. This one was louder, raspier like that of a male teenager's. "Harry? Harry, is that you?"
"Ron! Ron, I'm with Malfoy! We're over here! Ron! Hermione! Where are you?"
"Harry! Where's here! Where are you!"
The voices were coming closer. He could tell they were nearing them. "Ron! I'm over here! Just follow my voice!"
Silence.
"Ron!"
Silence.
"Hermione!"
Still silence.
He began to panic. "Ron! Hermione! Where are you! Ro---!"
Draco's hand clamed over his mouth. "Not now," he whispered, almost hissing. His voice was deadly cold, lethally calm, penetrating.
What scared Harry wasn't the sound of his voice. What scared him was the sense of Draco's closeness, his nearness. Harry cringed as he felt the warmth of Draco's soft breath caress the sensitive part at the nape of his neck with a seductive appeal. The gentle touch sent a cascade of ripples running down his spine, chilling him not with fear but with a chill of anticipation to have Draco's lips graze over him even just slightly. His heart pounded rapidly at the feel of the pulsating heat of Draco's body just behind him, intermingling with his own heat. All the while, he could still feel, though only vaguely, the rhythmic pulse of Draco's heartbeat tugging at his spine.
That was how close he was. And it scared him half to death.
Finally, after what seemed to be almost an hour to Harry (though but a very few moments to the other), Draco's fingers crept slowly away, and Draco himself backed away, wanting no more than the space that was once again between them.
Harry took his liberty to breathe though succeeding in obscuring the effects of his ordeal. He was relieved to have at last acquired the distance between him and the other boy. He didn't want to experience it ever again, lest he find himself kissing the guy. He shuddered at the thought, shifting his growing unease to something more of anger than anything else. Besides, he had more in his mind than any more of what he had been primarily thinking. He wanted to leave.
He whipped around to face the blonde boy who stood warily, his eyes shifting around in the heightening brilliance of the ascending sun. Draco said nothing.
Harry's eyes narrowed. "What is it?"
Malfoy raised a hand to silence him. He said nothing.
Harry followed his gaze. "I see nothing there, Malfoy. You can't fool me. Quit it."
Draco cast him a deadly glare. Still, he said nothing.
Harry strode forward, irrationally mad, and he knew it, but he didn't care. All he wanted at that moment was either to kiss that dumb ass of a Malfoy or to find his two best friends, one meaning more to him than a friend. It didn't take him long to decide that he would much prefer the latter.
He thought on that as he grabbed the front part of Draco's robes once again, lifting the other boy until his toes barely touched the ground. "Quit it, Malfoy," he said again. "I know there's nothing there. I know you're only trying to scare me. Why? I don't know. But I don't like it. I don't like what you're doing to me." Harry shut up.
That wasn't right.
Draco arched a brow. "And what exactly am I doing to you, Potter?" he inquired menacingly, letting the Boy know that he hadn't missed his slip. "From what I can see, it is you who have your filthy hands on me. What can I possibly do?"
Harry pushed him aside. "Shut up, Malfoy. The last thing I need now is an insult," he amended. "All I want to do is to get back home. Now, if you want to stay here, be my guest. But I, on the other hand, am not about to sit around doing nothing, especially nothing with you. I'm going to go away, whether you come with me or not. I will find Ron and Hermione, and I will go home, with or without you. Which is it?"
Draco didn't answer. He cringed.
In that last instant, Harry finally saw what his archenemy had seen times before, also finally realizing the total necessity of Draco's attempts to avoid it. Harry cursed. He and his big mouth.
Before them, in full height no less than eight feet tall, stood the massive bulk of a big, black grizzly bear. Harry gritted his teeth, standing as still as one possibly could before that tremendous living body mass that opened its wide gaping jaws to a long and hungry growl.
Only a few meters away from the growling beast, Draco groped around in his robes in an attempt to find his wand. He came out empty-handed. His head jerked up to face the massive mouth that opened wide to deliver a warning growl. He backed away, his body bent into a crouch so as not to attract any attention. He stepped beside Harry, and stopped.
Both were breathing heavily with fright, unable to make the fatal decision between running and staying. If they run, there was no doubt that the bear would most likely catch up to them, and rip them apart piece by piece. If they stay, there was a chance of surviving, of passing as a dead corpse if they would take the risk of lying still.
Harry knew Draco wasn't about to give in to that kind of submission, and he wouldn't allow himself to do something as risky as that either. Surely, he had courage enough to face the bear head on, even without the wand, but he wasn't assured survival. That was all he wanted, to know that he has survived so that he can get to Hermione as fast as he can, to help them find a way to get back to Hogwarts.
"I know that this might not be the time to ask," Harry panted. "How fast can you run?"
Draco's face fell. "I don't know what this thing might be, Potter, but I'm certainly not running from it. I have no protection whatsoever against something this big should it catch up to us."
"Do you plan on staying?"
"I don't know what you're so worried about, Potter. Normally, I would have expected you to leave me without a second's thought. Well… if you ever had a thought."
"Shut up, Malfoy. I'm trying to think."
"Trying."
Harry glared. Then, he darted his eyes towards a nearby tree towards the large trunk of an oak. "There."
He didn't point, but somehow, Draco already knew what he was referring to. He shook his head. "Too far."
"What do you mean?"
"I can't run that fast! I have," he hesitated, "a breathing disorder."
Harry looked at him in scrutiny. It didn't sound like a lie, he'd heard his breathing, yet it didn't sound like the entire truth either. He hesitated.
"It doesn't matter, does it, Potter? You'd probably enjoy him ripping me to pieces, anyway, won't you?"
"I might hate you, Malfoy, but don't you dare try to compare me with you or your damned ox for a father. I'm not as heartless."
"Or as smart."
That was it! He wasn't taking anymore insults from this freak. He stepped back as he prepared to dash for the tree. Unfortunately, he stepped on a twig.
The bear leaped.
So did Harry.
Draco was immobilized and was backhanded to a nearby stub, where his head hit hard on the solid trunk, rendering him unconscious.
However, the bear did not go after him. It went for Harry.
Harry ran as fast as his feet could carry him, faster than he thought he could, until he almost thought that it was already impossible for him to breathe. The only thing that kept him from flying off the ground right then and there was the pressure of the air that weighed him down, making it an easier run for the larger beast that whipped its way across the downdraft towards him.
The bear initiated a second leap, and this time, succeeded.
Harry made contact to the ground with his stomach, the bear right on top of him, crushing the smallest bit of air that was left in him after the sudden impact with the ground that had knocked the wind out of his lungs.
He grunted as he struggled to breathe, squirming almost pleadingly beneath the large mass of bear standing on his spine. He knew he couldn't throw that much weight off, but he wasn't going to give up without the fight either. He struggled harder, ignoring the pain of the sharp stones that cut right into his skin, bruising him, or wounding him.
The weight suddenly shifted behind him. It was either caused by the bears downsizing or by his mere imagination alone. He didn't care, but suddenly he knew he could take on it. A sourceless strength filled him, and he threw whatever occupant there was off from his aching spine.
Finally free to move around, he rolled over the dried grass to take a look at his conquered assailant, realizing then and there that it was far from conquered. And more than that. What he saw took his breath away for an entire second. Where the black bear was supposed to be, harry saw in its place the body of a big black wolf.
"Animagus," he whispered, gaping at it as it stood on unsteady feet. Though how it could have changed so fast without him noticing it, Harry didn't know. He hurriedly scrambled to his feet in time to meet another leap.
The bear-turned-wolf landed flat on his stomach, its forearms pinning his shoulders to the ground. At least, however it left his hands free so that he may be able to ward off any attack. The wolf released a strange howl of triumph. Then, it's large gaping jaws turned on him abruptly, cutting the howl short, and lunged at the exposed vessels of his throat.
Harry crossed his arms in front of his face, putting the wolf's neck at the corner of that cross. The wolf missed him but a single inch, its crooked teeth barely grazing the skin at his neck. It tried again, its jaws snapping each attempt, but always missing.
He wasn't sure how long he would be able to hold on to it. Already, his arms were growing tired, and his shoulders were also beginning to ache, as the wolf's massive claws dug into his unprotected flesh. The cloth of his robes were damp where the blood soaked it. And even if he did hold on long enough to keep his throat from getting ripped, he was fairly sure that he was going to bleed to death if the wolf's nails managed to severe a major artery.
It glowered at him with gold-red eyes, its jaws persistent upon drawing out the blood from its prey, but always, it missed. Then, the wolf began to hesitate. Harry was glad for the relief, leaving himself off guard for a mere second. That particular second was all the wolf needed. Harry realized too late.
The wolf lunged.
His eyes shut…
And he waited for what never came.
He opened his eyes just as the wolf fell to the ground, unconscious. He studied its limp body, and sat bolt upright, gaping.
The wolf's body that lay before him began to twitch in spasmodic convulsions. He could hear bones breaking in their wake, muscles shifting their initial arrangements into something barely unrecognizable, some form between man and animal. In a brief moment of muted speculation, Harry saw it begin to take shape once again. The result of its change was something worth the trouble of having waited around to find out.
She lay there, unconscious and tranquil. A thick cluster of straight and extremely long black hair spread all about her, obscuring her nakedness beneath its dark sheet of velvet. Dark lashes caressed her tanned skin. He didn't know what were the color of those eyes, but he made a wild guess that they might have been golden.
He caught a glimpse of movement in the corner of his eye, and jerked his head to its general direction. What he saw nearly took his breath away.
Before him in full splendor, in an immense show of her deitian beauty, stood a figure but a few years younger than he was, shining with an aura of light. He squinted at her brilliance, however, catching the unmistakable gleam of gold in her calm, almond-shaped eyes. Her hair was a void of black in the blinding light, cascading down her back in graceful half-waves. She was short and slight, and held a long silver scepter in her right hand, and reached out to him with it. Its tip, a massive stone of amethyst touched his chest. And for an instant, the light took him, but in that same instant, it evaded him too.
He felt the warmth of pure energy overwhelm him just at it left. He looked down as the amethyst was withdrawn from his, and realized that the wounds dug into his shoulders were no longer there, so were the bruises.
He looked up again, only to see the girls' figure walk towards his side. She knelt beside the unconscious body of the fallen girl. With the scepter no longer in sight, she lifted the other girl in her arms, and stood. Without turning back, she walked away, the tips of her long, black hair brushing the fallen leaves that covered the ground. She disappeared into a blinding light.
Harry blinked, and blinked again. He closed his eyes shut, to clear his eyes of the light, but also to convince himself that it was a dream. When he looked up again, they were no longer in sight, and it was only to see Draco's smug face, looking over to where the two forms disappeared.
In silence, Harry stood up, and walked away. Draco did the same.
This was a new world. They needed to explore.
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A/N: This took me a longer time to write than did any of the others. I hope you liked my effort. There's something lacking, though. I don't know what it is, and I'm definitely not about to waste my time trying to find out. If you cared so much of what is not said than what has been said, go ahead. No one's stopping you. Review, nonetheless.
By: Catnip
A/N: The four of them end up in an alternate world, where they are separated. I'm not making this too long, though. Actually, I'm trying to make the entire fanfic as short as possible so that I can go ahead and continue doing my other stuff. Hehe. Enjoy!
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Chapter 4: A Whole New World
The wind blew across the barren glade, where tall trees stood in stark defiance to any trespasser that would come by its way. They were still, as silent as death until the blowing gale began to rustle its unforgiving leaves, passing through its unbending stillness, creating an eerie harmony of unspoken derision.
Two figures lay upon the unguarded ground, bare of any verdance, save for a single mark of green laden with silver upon the untainted black of the Hogwarts robes.
The first thing Harry laid his eyes on the moment he woke up was a wisp of feathery blond hair that glittered like silver beneath the rays of the glaring sun. He reached out to it, hoping to caress its smooth, silvery sinews, wondering if the finest of silk could ever be finer than one such as this.
The figure that lay before him stirred. It was then that Harry heard the uneven sound of labored breathing as the form moved from its side to lie on its back. Harry gasped at the sudden realization to who it was that lay before him, finding it hard to believe that his already-manifested attraction to the Slytherin boy had been magnified with that sudden realization of a deeper attraction.
His eyes slowly grazed over the fineness of the other boy's features as if in an attempt of committing them into memory, as if in an attempt to learn them, to know them, by heart. In silent longing, his eyes took in the severely delicate bone structure of Draco's breathtakingly pallid countenance where dark, ebony lashes caressed its creamy surface, seeming an even darker color beneath the summer rays. He studied in deep admiration the sweet, supple texture of red, red lips that ultimately challenged the authenticity of crimson. It was a striking combination to admire all at once. Draco was striking in himself, but more than that: he was beautiful. Not a mere shallow beauty that was often manifested, the kind that one knows would only be there but for a short period of time only to rot within the dismal and brooding presence of a depthless grave, unable to survive. What Draco had was a beauty filled to the brim with divine grace, god-like, undying, immortal, an unethereal beauty meant to survive forever, even in death.
Harry began to notice it in that single instant, as Draco lay in silent submission to the slumber that had overcome him hours before. Utter and inexplicable innocence that belied the hideousness of the heart that was within were wrought, and doubly magnified, by the beauty that reverberated throughout the bodily features of an incarnated soul… except the opposite of that soul.
He slapped himself awake, accidentally hitting the back of his head onto the sharp pebble that lay on the ground with extreme hardness. He paid no heed to it. "Dammit!" he hissed. What the heck was wrong with him! This was Malfoy for crying out loud! Since when did Malfoy become Draco! And since when did he, the Boy Who Lived, ever had any certain inclination towards homosexuality! He was no damn fag! And he was bent on murdering anyone who would even mistake him as one, even himself.
"DAMMIT!" he cried, feeling the pain of the bleeding bump for the first time.
Draco came awake. He did so in a blink of an eye. His eyes flew open the very instant the last syllable had fallen from Harry's lips. He sat up at that same instant, too, very nearly startling the momentarily-suicidal Boy Who Lived out of his wits, leaving Harry to hit his head once again.
The other boy ignored his cry of pain, as he looked about his environment with sudden alertness and dazed panic. He asked the only relevant question that the Boy Who Lived had failed to ask: "Where am I?"
"It's more like: 'where are we?'" Harry interrupted, as he painfully propped himself up from the ground with one elbow, while his other hand rubbed the freshly opened wound at the back of his head. He winced.
Finally on his feet, Draco whirled around to face him, and scowled, loosing all of the divine innocence that Harry had seen earlier while he was unconscious, altogether loosing his god-like appeal. When he spoke to him, it was in a sneer. "I wasn't talking to you, Potter, " he pointed out, " because obviously, you don't know."
"Oh. And you do?"
"I have better chances, yes."
"And what makes you so special?"
"What doesn't?"
Harry jumped to his feet. "Sniveling git."
"Sock-sucking numbskull."
"Megalomaniac."
"Pot-headed lame-brained acne-munching ass!"
"Thick-faced snot-smelling Muggle-lover!"
Draco struck.
Harry stumbled back to the ground with an audible thump, grunting as his head once again landed on a pebbly spot, making his head hurt even more. He wondered if it was already becoming a habit with him. Having pushed himself only partly off the barren ground, Harry felt the weight of Malfoy's heavy boots pound on his unguarded chest, sending him back into the dust, his head reeling from the force of this certain impact.
The disoriented boy, looked up to the scowling face of his assailant, and swore. "What do you think you're doing!" he spat.
Instead of answering, Malfoy pushed the heel of his boot harder unto Harry's chest in an attempt to crush all the bones that gave the Pot-headed idiot the nerve to call him one such as a Muggle-lover.
He sneered. "I hate Muggles, you know," Draco calmly put in, putting more force to Harry's ribs, crushing the air out his opponent. "And you know what I hate more than Muggles, Potter? It's people like you. People like you who are nothing more than insignificant little bugs trying to invade our world, inflicting us with your pathetic weaknesses, trying ever so hard to compete with beings you people know you can't match! Why don't you just go away!"
A sudden meow reverberated across the surrounding trees. Draco whipped around in great anticipation, recognizing the distinct and recognizable accent of its feline drawl.
He was right.
There, upon the irregular surface of a large rock just before him, as black as night as ever it had been, stood the golden-eyed feline in its ascending majesty, staring at him in an open remark of disapproval.
Reflecting the apprehension, Draco moved languidly towards the animal, taking light caution with every step that he took. He stopped, two feet away from the rock --- and the cat. They stared at each other for quite a while, each one ignoring the mildly injured Boy Who Lived as he got up from his dust bed with an occasional grunt.
Draco's hand suddenly shot out in a blink of an eye. In that same blink, the cat jumped from his calculated reach with a high feline growl, swiping the back of his hand with its exposed claws, and scampered away into the vastness of the unfamiliar woods that encircled them.
The startled boy jumped with a strangled cry, hissing at the sudden pain in his right hand. His hand, shaking with surprise, brought itself up, as he examined the three fresh and long gashes that marred the pale, creamy surface of his delicate skin with gritted teeth. Blood oozed freely from the open wounds, his sinews throbbing with the pain that it caused. He turned his hand into a fist, hoping that the action would ease the pain. It didn't.
"Damn!" he hissed, turning on his heels to face the Potter-boy once again.
What met him was a fist full of unrestrained fury.
It was his turn to topple back, hitting his head on the irregular surface of the ever-present rock. Fortunately, all he received was a massive bump to his head. Other than that, he also received a strong hit to his face, the impact causing his skin to work its way to manifest a visible bruise, which he did not appreciate in the least bit.
He staggered to his feet, glaring menacingly at the dark-haired boy that stood confidently before him. Harry was taller and heavier-built than Draco would ever be, making a frontal assault on the other boy a futile attempt. Draco saw his disadvantage there.
Predicting a case that he might get knocked off his feet again, Draco took several steps to the side, making sure that the unavoidable rock was as far from him as possible. However, he did not take the liberty of looking behind him to see if any other obstacles lay where he would most likely fall. He didn't want Harry to count that as a weakness, which it probably might have been.
Without warning, Harry charged, catching the blond boy off his guard. He leapt to the air almost immediately, ultimately knocking Draco off his feet and onto solid ground where the Slytherin Prefect felt the full disadvantage of having Harry's weight directly on top of him.
Harry took both of Draco's wrists in his hands, restraining the other boy from any counter attack he might have thought of. He had left his wand somewhere in the bedroom, he wasn't taking any chances should Malfoy be equipped with his own wand. He felt Draco struggle weakly against him as the slight boy was pinned helplessly beneath him.
"Damn you, Potter!" Draco spat.
"Damn you, Malfoy," Harry countered. "What in the Abyss were you trying to do! That damned cat might have been our only way out of this godforsaken place. You just ruined our chances of escaping with your damnable actions, you thoughtless git. How are we supposed to go back to school now!"
"I was trying to catch her, you imbecile!"
"But looked what happened! She escaped! Why? Because you have no brains to even think of the consequences if ever you did something as stupid as that! She's a damned cat! Cats have faster reflexes than you slimes have! How were you supposed to catch her then!"
"Don't you dare underestimate me, Potter! I am not one to be underestimated by insects such as yourself! How was I supposed to know she was that fast! What would you do if ever there was a cat to catch in front of you and an insect waiting to bite just right behind you!"
"Then, you shouldn't have bitten that insect first, you moron!" He took the other boy by the front of his robes, and in sheer frustration brought his face up to him, and bringing his head back to the ground with a thump. "You are so stupid!" he hissed.
Draco didn't answer. His head hurt too much. The pain had caused his head to be more than a trifle nauseated. What was more, Harry was sitting on his midriff, which gave him a harder time in breathing than he would have wanted. He breathed in gasps. "Damn you, Potter. You're heavy…" he breathed.
Harry blushed, only beginning to realize the other boy's troubles. He let Draco's robes go, getting himself off the Slytherin's slight sinews as well as the filthy ground. He watched silently as the Draco got to his feet in slow languid movements, calmly dusting himself off with nimble hands, all the while, keeping a good eye at Harry to keep the bespectacled boy from doing anything else. Harry's eyes took in the other boy's fragile appearance, and he was suddenly reminded that he was a marble statue compared to this delicate doll.
Doll?
He grinned inwardly, amused at his own metaphor, but didn't let it show. Picking up a sound other than his or Draco's breathing, his ears suddenly perked up. Something was coming, he could hear the distinct sound of boots crunching dried leaves and bark. Something was calling his name. No, someone. It was then that he realized that the voice seemed oddly familiar to his ears, like the remnant of a lost memory resurrected.
"Hermione?" he called out. "Hermione! Hermione, it's me! Where are you?"
Yet another voice pitched in. This one was louder, raspier like that of a male teenager's. "Harry? Harry, is that you?"
"Ron! Ron, I'm with Malfoy! We're over here! Ron! Hermione! Where are you?"
"Harry! Where's here! Where are you!"
The voices were coming closer. He could tell they were nearing them. "Ron! I'm over here! Just follow my voice!"
Silence.
"Ron!"
Silence.
"Hermione!"
Still silence.
He began to panic. "Ron! Hermione! Where are you! Ro---!"
Draco's hand clamed over his mouth. "Not now," he whispered, almost hissing. His voice was deadly cold, lethally calm, penetrating.
What scared Harry wasn't the sound of his voice. What scared him was the sense of Draco's closeness, his nearness. Harry cringed as he felt the warmth of Draco's soft breath caress the sensitive part at the nape of his neck with a seductive appeal. The gentle touch sent a cascade of ripples running down his spine, chilling him not with fear but with a chill of anticipation to have Draco's lips graze over him even just slightly. His heart pounded rapidly at the feel of the pulsating heat of Draco's body just behind him, intermingling with his own heat. All the while, he could still feel, though only vaguely, the rhythmic pulse of Draco's heartbeat tugging at his spine.
That was how close he was. And it scared him half to death.
Finally, after what seemed to be almost an hour to Harry (though but a very few moments to the other), Draco's fingers crept slowly away, and Draco himself backed away, wanting no more than the space that was once again between them.
Harry took his liberty to breathe though succeeding in obscuring the effects of his ordeal. He was relieved to have at last acquired the distance between him and the other boy. He didn't want to experience it ever again, lest he find himself kissing the guy. He shuddered at the thought, shifting his growing unease to something more of anger than anything else. Besides, he had more in his mind than any more of what he had been primarily thinking. He wanted to leave.
He whipped around to face the blonde boy who stood warily, his eyes shifting around in the heightening brilliance of the ascending sun. Draco said nothing.
Harry's eyes narrowed. "What is it?"
Malfoy raised a hand to silence him. He said nothing.
Harry followed his gaze. "I see nothing there, Malfoy. You can't fool me. Quit it."
Draco cast him a deadly glare. Still, he said nothing.
Harry strode forward, irrationally mad, and he knew it, but he didn't care. All he wanted at that moment was either to kiss that dumb ass of a Malfoy or to find his two best friends, one meaning more to him than a friend. It didn't take him long to decide that he would much prefer the latter.
He thought on that as he grabbed the front part of Draco's robes once again, lifting the other boy until his toes barely touched the ground. "Quit it, Malfoy," he said again. "I know there's nothing there. I know you're only trying to scare me. Why? I don't know. But I don't like it. I don't like what you're doing to me." Harry shut up.
That wasn't right.
Draco arched a brow. "And what exactly am I doing to you, Potter?" he inquired menacingly, letting the Boy know that he hadn't missed his slip. "From what I can see, it is you who have your filthy hands on me. What can I possibly do?"
Harry pushed him aside. "Shut up, Malfoy. The last thing I need now is an insult," he amended. "All I want to do is to get back home. Now, if you want to stay here, be my guest. But I, on the other hand, am not about to sit around doing nothing, especially nothing with you. I'm going to go away, whether you come with me or not. I will find Ron and Hermione, and I will go home, with or without you. Which is it?"
Draco didn't answer. He cringed.
In that last instant, Harry finally saw what his archenemy had seen times before, also finally realizing the total necessity of Draco's attempts to avoid it. Harry cursed. He and his big mouth.
Before them, in full height no less than eight feet tall, stood the massive bulk of a big, black grizzly bear. Harry gritted his teeth, standing as still as one possibly could before that tremendous living body mass that opened its wide gaping jaws to a long and hungry growl.
Only a few meters away from the growling beast, Draco groped around in his robes in an attempt to find his wand. He came out empty-handed. His head jerked up to face the massive mouth that opened wide to deliver a warning growl. He backed away, his body bent into a crouch so as not to attract any attention. He stepped beside Harry, and stopped.
Both were breathing heavily with fright, unable to make the fatal decision between running and staying. If they run, there was no doubt that the bear would most likely catch up to them, and rip them apart piece by piece. If they stay, there was a chance of surviving, of passing as a dead corpse if they would take the risk of lying still.
Harry knew Draco wasn't about to give in to that kind of submission, and he wouldn't allow himself to do something as risky as that either. Surely, he had courage enough to face the bear head on, even without the wand, but he wasn't assured survival. That was all he wanted, to know that he has survived so that he can get to Hermione as fast as he can, to help them find a way to get back to Hogwarts.
"I know that this might not be the time to ask," Harry panted. "How fast can you run?"
Draco's face fell. "I don't know what this thing might be, Potter, but I'm certainly not running from it. I have no protection whatsoever against something this big should it catch up to us."
"Do you plan on staying?"
"I don't know what you're so worried about, Potter. Normally, I would have expected you to leave me without a second's thought. Well… if you ever had a thought."
"Shut up, Malfoy. I'm trying to think."
"Trying."
Harry glared. Then, he darted his eyes towards a nearby tree towards the large trunk of an oak. "There."
He didn't point, but somehow, Draco already knew what he was referring to. He shook his head. "Too far."
"What do you mean?"
"I can't run that fast! I have," he hesitated, "a breathing disorder."
Harry looked at him in scrutiny. It didn't sound like a lie, he'd heard his breathing, yet it didn't sound like the entire truth either. He hesitated.
"It doesn't matter, does it, Potter? You'd probably enjoy him ripping me to pieces, anyway, won't you?"
"I might hate you, Malfoy, but don't you dare try to compare me with you or your damned ox for a father. I'm not as heartless."
"Or as smart."
That was it! He wasn't taking anymore insults from this freak. He stepped back as he prepared to dash for the tree. Unfortunately, he stepped on a twig.
The bear leaped.
So did Harry.
Draco was immobilized and was backhanded to a nearby stub, where his head hit hard on the solid trunk, rendering him unconscious.
However, the bear did not go after him. It went for Harry.
Harry ran as fast as his feet could carry him, faster than he thought he could, until he almost thought that it was already impossible for him to breathe. The only thing that kept him from flying off the ground right then and there was the pressure of the air that weighed him down, making it an easier run for the larger beast that whipped its way across the downdraft towards him.
The bear initiated a second leap, and this time, succeeded.
Harry made contact to the ground with his stomach, the bear right on top of him, crushing the smallest bit of air that was left in him after the sudden impact with the ground that had knocked the wind out of his lungs.
He grunted as he struggled to breathe, squirming almost pleadingly beneath the large mass of bear standing on his spine. He knew he couldn't throw that much weight off, but he wasn't going to give up without the fight either. He struggled harder, ignoring the pain of the sharp stones that cut right into his skin, bruising him, or wounding him.
The weight suddenly shifted behind him. It was either caused by the bears downsizing or by his mere imagination alone. He didn't care, but suddenly he knew he could take on it. A sourceless strength filled him, and he threw whatever occupant there was off from his aching spine.
Finally free to move around, he rolled over the dried grass to take a look at his conquered assailant, realizing then and there that it was far from conquered. And more than that. What he saw took his breath away for an entire second. Where the black bear was supposed to be, harry saw in its place the body of a big black wolf.
"Animagus," he whispered, gaping at it as it stood on unsteady feet. Though how it could have changed so fast without him noticing it, Harry didn't know. He hurriedly scrambled to his feet in time to meet another leap.
The bear-turned-wolf landed flat on his stomach, its forearms pinning his shoulders to the ground. At least, however it left his hands free so that he may be able to ward off any attack. The wolf released a strange howl of triumph. Then, it's large gaping jaws turned on him abruptly, cutting the howl short, and lunged at the exposed vessels of his throat.
Harry crossed his arms in front of his face, putting the wolf's neck at the corner of that cross. The wolf missed him but a single inch, its crooked teeth barely grazing the skin at his neck. It tried again, its jaws snapping each attempt, but always missing.
He wasn't sure how long he would be able to hold on to it. Already, his arms were growing tired, and his shoulders were also beginning to ache, as the wolf's massive claws dug into his unprotected flesh. The cloth of his robes were damp where the blood soaked it. And even if he did hold on long enough to keep his throat from getting ripped, he was fairly sure that he was going to bleed to death if the wolf's nails managed to severe a major artery.
It glowered at him with gold-red eyes, its jaws persistent upon drawing out the blood from its prey, but always, it missed. Then, the wolf began to hesitate. Harry was glad for the relief, leaving himself off guard for a mere second. That particular second was all the wolf needed. Harry realized too late.
The wolf lunged.
His eyes shut…
And he waited for what never came.
He opened his eyes just as the wolf fell to the ground, unconscious. He studied its limp body, and sat bolt upright, gaping.
The wolf's body that lay before him began to twitch in spasmodic convulsions. He could hear bones breaking in their wake, muscles shifting their initial arrangements into something barely unrecognizable, some form between man and animal. In a brief moment of muted speculation, Harry saw it begin to take shape once again. The result of its change was something worth the trouble of having waited around to find out.
She lay there, unconscious and tranquil. A thick cluster of straight and extremely long black hair spread all about her, obscuring her nakedness beneath its dark sheet of velvet. Dark lashes caressed her tanned skin. He didn't know what were the color of those eyes, but he made a wild guess that they might have been golden.
He caught a glimpse of movement in the corner of his eye, and jerked his head to its general direction. What he saw nearly took his breath away.
Before him in full splendor, in an immense show of her deitian beauty, stood a figure but a few years younger than he was, shining with an aura of light. He squinted at her brilliance, however, catching the unmistakable gleam of gold in her calm, almond-shaped eyes. Her hair was a void of black in the blinding light, cascading down her back in graceful half-waves. She was short and slight, and held a long silver scepter in her right hand, and reached out to him with it. Its tip, a massive stone of amethyst touched his chest. And for an instant, the light took him, but in that same instant, it evaded him too.
He felt the warmth of pure energy overwhelm him just at it left. He looked down as the amethyst was withdrawn from his, and realized that the wounds dug into his shoulders were no longer there, so were the bruises.
He looked up again, only to see the girls' figure walk towards his side. She knelt beside the unconscious body of the fallen girl. With the scepter no longer in sight, she lifted the other girl in her arms, and stood. Without turning back, she walked away, the tips of her long, black hair brushing the fallen leaves that covered the ground. She disappeared into a blinding light.
Harry blinked, and blinked again. He closed his eyes shut, to clear his eyes of the light, but also to convince himself that it was a dream. When he looked up again, they were no longer in sight, and it was only to see Draco's smug face, looking over to where the two forms disappeared.
In silence, Harry stood up, and walked away. Draco did the same.
This was a new world. They needed to explore.
* * *
A/N: This took me a longer time to write than did any of the others. I hope you liked my effort. There's something lacking, though. I don't know what it is, and I'm definitely not about to waste my time trying to find out. If you cared so much of what is not said than what has been said, go ahead. No one's stopping you. Review, nonetheless.