-------
PERPLEXED ALLIANCE
Author: Black Heart
Title: Perplexed Alliance
Rating: PG 13+ - low level swearing
Author's Note: Will be H/D slash eventually, but not yet. ^-^;;
Disclaimer: Characters, names, places, etc belong to JK Rowling. Plotline belongs to ME.
-------
CHAPTER 2
-------
"So where'd you go last night, Mr Sensitive?" Seamus pried at Harry the next day in Potions.
"Eh?" Harry asked, grinding beetles into powder.
"The whole hall saw yet another clash between you and Salazar over there," Dean grinned, waving a fresh handful of beetles in Draco's direction, "And then you up and left."
"20 points off Gryffindor for mindless chit chat in my dungeons; don't let me have the pleasure of taking more points off you today, Finnigan! LONGBOTTOM! Crush the blasted bugs, not shy away from them, for damn's sake! A further 10 points!"
"Git," Ron muttered at Snape, who was currently prowling amongst the Gryffindors with a gleam in his eye.
"Sir," Draco spoke up, breaking the silence that usually consisted of coughs, whispered conversations and soft mutters.
For some unknown reason, Harry found he had to look up at Draco, and strangely enough, Draco was looking right back at him.
Draco's almost grey, pale blue eyes were studying Harry with intense.what was it? Wariness? Skepticism? There was something in his eyes that Harry knew he must have been reflecting right back at Draco, and all he could feel, was a hollow heart, like he didn't know who anybody was anymore. Draco suddenly transformed before his eyes, and Malfoy the harassing teenager was suddenly Draco, a pale, skinny guy with amazing strength for his stature, an average Seeker, who had the weirdest hair colour Harry had ever seen: blonde was close, but it was more of a white-silver. These thoughts rushed into Harry's mind in a split-second, and suddenly the boys were alone in the room, everything white and empty apart from one another, and this Draco, this stranger, was standing before Harry, studying him with a wary acceptance.
And then a blow to the ribs by Ron sent everything hurtling back into reality: Draco looked away, a strange look on his face. Snape was still stood behind Neville (no doubt causing the boy more fear), and had only just looked up at Draco as the boy had called his attention, which means the glance only lasted a split second.
"Felt like minutes," Harry thought to himself, putting a hand to his head.
"What the hell were you staring at?" Ron asked.
"Nothing!" Harry said a little too quickly, jumping as he remembered his friends' existence.
"Ahh, having erotic fantasies about Malfoy now, were we?" Dean grinned, waggling his eyebrows.
Heat started to well up in Harry's face and he cursed himself inwardly.
"No.course not," Harry replied shakily, in a voice most unlike his own.
Everyone at the table stared.
Seamus looked at Harry with a sort of wary suspicion, his eyebrows lowered in a slight frown.
"No way." Dean said softly to Seamus, who replied:
"Don't go there, Dean Thomas. Just don't even go there."
Harry swallowed down his nervousness, too afraid to look anyone in the eye, only just realizing he was sweating. Hermione poked Harry in the arm.
"Y-yeah?" Harry asked, still dazed by his 'encounter' with Draco.
"Malfoy just asked to see Snape after class," Hermione hissed.
"Yeah, so?" Ron replied, listening in, suddenly willing to change the subject as Dean and Seamus had moved a little way down the table, now whispering to one another softly.
Harry stayed silent. Hermione put a hand to her forehead.
"Haven't changed, have you Ron? Look, I bet he's going to tell Snape about what's bothering him."
"How'd you know something's bothering him?" Harry asked, intrigued, forgetting his embarrassment.
"Oh you two! Honestly! It's obvious to everyone: he's late for breakfast every morning, and when he does show up his eyes are red, like he's been crying."
"Or like he's been taking d- " Ron started, but Hermione whacked him in the arm.
"Listen to me, Ron!" Hermione began.
A sinister voice said from behind them, "YOU THREE - 35 points for ignoring my instructions NOT to speak during class."
And Snape walked off to praise Draco's simmering potion.
-------
"Look, even if he DOES turn up late all wishy washy to breakfast, he certainly recovers quick enough, being his usual shitty self at everyone," Ron claimed in the Common Room later that night.
The conversation really appealed to them for some reason.
"Come off it Ron. We know Malfoy's good at hiding his emotions. He's covering up something," Harry replied, twirling his wand in his fingers. He sighed and pulled off his robe and then his trousers, revealing his bare chest and boxers.
"Went for the trousers-only look today, did we?" Hermione said with a smile.
"Come on, you know it's been a boiling day today. Soon as I woke up I decided the robe was all I was gonna wear, 'part from the boxers, pants and shoes. Waaay to hot for anything else," Harry replied.
"Wished you'd have left out the pants and boxers," Hermione said with a grin.
Harry's eyebrows arched upwards, and Ron stared at Hermione with an open mouth.
"You didn't think I could go out with a guy like Robert and NOT have an interest in a man's body, did you?" Hermione said indignantly.
"So - so have you two - have you ever - " Ron spluttered, his face bright red, and Hermione's smile changed into a frown. "No, Ron! No. No.I - I'd wait for the right person first."
She fell quiet and there was an uncomfortable silence in the room. Harry slowly picked up his clothes and reported he was going to bed.
-------
Harry's eyes widened as he looked around himself. It was dark. Very dark. Everything was an inky blue, an extremely deep, inky, velvety blue. He was.floating. Under water. And he could breathe.
"Where am I?" Harry said, barely comprehending the fact he could speak normally.
What he did notice, was the he felt dry. Totally dry.
"Weird."
((Follow me.))
"Ey?! What the hell.who's there?!" Harry called, and made to scratch the back of his neck, a habit he had picked up when in a confusing time. He raised his hand towards his neck, then stopped, staring at his hand. It was waxy white; pale cream, and the long, slim fingers were shapely, so beautiful; the fingernails were so precise and rounded, not protruding a millimetre away from his fingertip: just short enough to recognise this hand as a male's.
"What the - ?" Harry gasped. But he realised then: his vision was clear. There were no glasses. And his voice was different. He knew this voice, but he couldn't comprehend whom it belonged to. Indeed, he couldn't think of anyone he knew: couldn't picture their faces, remember their names, recall their backgrounds. All he knew was that he had known people.once. In a far away place.
((Follow me.))
The command grew deeper in sound: it was a man's voice, calling.calling.
((This way.))
A shaft of light broke through the heavenly water, piercing the strange stillness - though Harry's thin arms had been waving about, keeping him afloat, the water had not rippled at all.
There was no question what he should do. He swam towards this beam, and looked at it. Sunlight. A shaft about two metres wide, consisting of pure, bright sunlight, had managed to reach down to Harry, even though he could not even see the surface, proving he was deep in a lake, or very large body of water: very deep indeed. Ridiculously deep.
The beam of sunlight was.unreal. It was so out of place, yet not unwelcome in this land of everlasting, dark water. ((FOLLOW ME.))
Harry shrugged, and moved upwards, through this shaft of light, upwards, and upwards. And suddenly his lungs kicked in and started begging for mercy: he needed to breathe. Panicking, he kicked at the water savagely, propelling himself swiftly through the water, and now the feeling hit him: the water was freezing. Chilling his blood and engulfing him in wave upon wave of shocking iciness, the water pulled at him, needing him, dragging him downwards, almost lustfully wanting to claim him. But his lungs would not allow it, and he tried to scream in terror, causing his mouth to fill, and then he seemed to consist of nothing but knife-like, freezing water and it was all he felt: in his mouth, his lungs, his mind; and yet he swam on.
The surface was near, he could see it, almost feel the wind above as he could now see swaying trees out there, in the wonderful world of oxygen.
But he stretched his arms, not being able to get any closer to air. His frantic actions started slowing down. The surface was too far away: he'd never make it. He kept kicking, bitterly refusing to give in.
And a picture formed in his mind.
A blurry vision: the first person he had been able to picture in his mind since this whole thing started.: someone with dark hair. That was all he could make out. Silly vision. Such a silly thing to see, while you're drowning.
And suddenly the vision was real: it was above the surface, and it reached down to Harry, stretching its arms through the water, ripples brushing against Harry's skin: he feebly grasped the arms, and the person pulled him out.
Harry's head hit fresh air and he gasped, the air blasting into his lungs and he choked on water. He coughed it out, and looked around weakly for his rescuer. Or he was about to, until a searing, terrible pain exploded just above his left elbow. He cried out, not quite knowing what to do, but suddenly, his mouth opened and he started shrieking in agony, despite the fact he didn't want to. This new voice of his screamed and pleaded with the pain, yelling between sobs "No, no!! PLEASE NO!"
He was on his hands and knees beside a massive lake, and his arms were shaky, barely supporting him, as the pain worked itself deeper into his flesh just above his left elbow. And then it stopped, so abruptly, that Harry was left panting.
No longer in control of this strange body, Harry found himself pulling up his sleeve, and inspected the now painfully sore area. Where there was once tanned skin, there was now a thin pale white arm, the same colour as the hand. But there was another change. There was a small tattoo, just above his left elbow: a livid red tattoo, of a skull, with a snake protruding from its mouth. It was smoking softly.
"The Dark Mark," Harry wanted to say, but instead, the only words his mouth formed were, "I never wanted this. DAMN YOU FATHER!"
And as he was staring through another's eyes at a Death Eater's mark, a lock of saturated silver-white hair fell across his face.
-------
"Look at his scar, man! It's gone bright red!"
"That was too freaky. Way too freaky."
"I was afraid to even touch him, he was trembling and sweating that bad!"
No mistaking that voice.
"Ron?" Harry asked groggily, and opened his eyes. Blurry. But he could still make out his surroundings. No water. No Dark Mark. He was on the floor beside his bed, his blankets tangled around his legs. He was sweating.
"Man, you're awake! God that was freaky Harry, you were having some sort of dream, and then you had a fit, trembling and everything and fell outta your bed!" Ron said worriedly, and helped to untangle Harry from the blankets. Harry put on his glasses.
"Yeah, you were groaning and sorta saying "please, no!" or something, and we woke up and pulled back your curtains and then you just." Seamus trailed off.
"You started twitching crazy-like, and just.fell. By that time we were terrified but didn't know what to do." Dean finished. "Yeah, so then we sent off Neville to get Madam Pomfrey."
But their words didn't register. Harry's mind was clouded, everything was fogging up and just as he heard Neville breathing hard, pounding up the staircase with someone behind him, his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he collapsed, his head colliding with his bedside cabinet.
-------
PERPLEXED ALLIANCE
Author: Black Heart
Title: Perplexed Alliance
Rating: PG 13+ - low level swearing
Author's Note: Will be H/D slash eventually, but not yet. ^-^;;
Disclaimer: Characters, names, places, etc belong to JK Rowling. Plotline belongs to ME.
-------
CHAPTER 2
-------
"So where'd you go last night, Mr Sensitive?" Seamus pried at Harry the next day in Potions.
"Eh?" Harry asked, grinding beetles into powder.
"The whole hall saw yet another clash between you and Salazar over there," Dean grinned, waving a fresh handful of beetles in Draco's direction, "And then you up and left."
"20 points off Gryffindor for mindless chit chat in my dungeons; don't let me have the pleasure of taking more points off you today, Finnigan! LONGBOTTOM! Crush the blasted bugs, not shy away from them, for damn's sake! A further 10 points!"
"Git," Ron muttered at Snape, who was currently prowling amongst the Gryffindors with a gleam in his eye.
"Sir," Draco spoke up, breaking the silence that usually consisted of coughs, whispered conversations and soft mutters.
For some unknown reason, Harry found he had to look up at Draco, and strangely enough, Draco was looking right back at him.
Draco's almost grey, pale blue eyes were studying Harry with intense.what was it? Wariness? Skepticism? There was something in his eyes that Harry knew he must have been reflecting right back at Draco, and all he could feel, was a hollow heart, like he didn't know who anybody was anymore. Draco suddenly transformed before his eyes, and Malfoy the harassing teenager was suddenly Draco, a pale, skinny guy with amazing strength for his stature, an average Seeker, who had the weirdest hair colour Harry had ever seen: blonde was close, but it was more of a white-silver. These thoughts rushed into Harry's mind in a split-second, and suddenly the boys were alone in the room, everything white and empty apart from one another, and this Draco, this stranger, was standing before Harry, studying him with a wary acceptance.
And then a blow to the ribs by Ron sent everything hurtling back into reality: Draco looked away, a strange look on his face. Snape was still stood behind Neville (no doubt causing the boy more fear), and had only just looked up at Draco as the boy had called his attention, which means the glance only lasted a split second.
"Felt like minutes," Harry thought to himself, putting a hand to his head.
"What the hell were you staring at?" Ron asked.
"Nothing!" Harry said a little too quickly, jumping as he remembered his friends' existence.
"Ahh, having erotic fantasies about Malfoy now, were we?" Dean grinned, waggling his eyebrows.
Heat started to well up in Harry's face and he cursed himself inwardly.
"No.course not," Harry replied shakily, in a voice most unlike his own.
Everyone at the table stared.
Seamus looked at Harry with a sort of wary suspicion, his eyebrows lowered in a slight frown.
"No way." Dean said softly to Seamus, who replied:
"Don't go there, Dean Thomas. Just don't even go there."
Harry swallowed down his nervousness, too afraid to look anyone in the eye, only just realizing he was sweating. Hermione poked Harry in the arm.
"Y-yeah?" Harry asked, still dazed by his 'encounter' with Draco.
"Malfoy just asked to see Snape after class," Hermione hissed.
"Yeah, so?" Ron replied, listening in, suddenly willing to change the subject as Dean and Seamus had moved a little way down the table, now whispering to one another softly.
Harry stayed silent. Hermione put a hand to her forehead.
"Haven't changed, have you Ron? Look, I bet he's going to tell Snape about what's bothering him."
"How'd you know something's bothering him?" Harry asked, intrigued, forgetting his embarrassment.
"Oh you two! Honestly! It's obvious to everyone: he's late for breakfast every morning, and when he does show up his eyes are red, like he's been crying."
"Or like he's been taking d- " Ron started, but Hermione whacked him in the arm.
"Listen to me, Ron!" Hermione began.
A sinister voice said from behind them, "YOU THREE - 35 points for ignoring my instructions NOT to speak during class."
And Snape walked off to praise Draco's simmering potion.
-------
"Look, even if he DOES turn up late all wishy washy to breakfast, he certainly recovers quick enough, being his usual shitty self at everyone," Ron claimed in the Common Room later that night.
The conversation really appealed to them for some reason.
"Come off it Ron. We know Malfoy's good at hiding his emotions. He's covering up something," Harry replied, twirling his wand in his fingers. He sighed and pulled off his robe and then his trousers, revealing his bare chest and boxers.
"Went for the trousers-only look today, did we?" Hermione said with a smile.
"Come on, you know it's been a boiling day today. Soon as I woke up I decided the robe was all I was gonna wear, 'part from the boxers, pants and shoes. Waaay to hot for anything else," Harry replied.
"Wished you'd have left out the pants and boxers," Hermione said with a grin.
Harry's eyebrows arched upwards, and Ron stared at Hermione with an open mouth.
"You didn't think I could go out with a guy like Robert and NOT have an interest in a man's body, did you?" Hermione said indignantly.
"So - so have you two - have you ever - " Ron spluttered, his face bright red, and Hermione's smile changed into a frown. "No, Ron! No. No.I - I'd wait for the right person first."
She fell quiet and there was an uncomfortable silence in the room. Harry slowly picked up his clothes and reported he was going to bed.
-------
Harry's eyes widened as he looked around himself. It was dark. Very dark. Everything was an inky blue, an extremely deep, inky, velvety blue. He was.floating. Under water. And he could breathe.
"Where am I?" Harry said, barely comprehending the fact he could speak normally.
What he did notice, was the he felt dry. Totally dry.
"Weird."
((Follow me.))
"Ey?! What the hell.who's there?!" Harry called, and made to scratch the back of his neck, a habit he had picked up when in a confusing time. He raised his hand towards his neck, then stopped, staring at his hand. It was waxy white; pale cream, and the long, slim fingers were shapely, so beautiful; the fingernails were so precise and rounded, not protruding a millimetre away from his fingertip: just short enough to recognise this hand as a male's.
"What the - ?" Harry gasped. But he realised then: his vision was clear. There were no glasses. And his voice was different. He knew this voice, but he couldn't comprehend whom it belonged to. Indeed, he couldn't think of anyone he knew: couldn't picture their faces, remember their names, recall their backgrounds. All he knew was that he had known people.once. In a far away place.
((Follow me.))
The command grew deeper in sound: it was a man's voice, calling.calling.
((This way.))
A shaft of light broke through the heavenly water, piercing the strange stillness - though Harry's thin arms had been waving about, keeping him afloat, the water had not rippled at all.
There was no question what he should do. He swam towards this beam, and looked at it. Sunlight. A shaft about two metres wide, consisting of pure, bright sunlight, had managed to reach down to Harry, even though he could not even see the surface, proving he was deep in a lake, or very large body of water: very deep indeed. Ridiculously deep.
The beam of sunlight was.unreal. It was so out of place, yet not unwelcome in this land of everlasting, dark water. ((FOLLOW ME.))
Harry shrugged, and moved upwards, through this shaft of light, upwards, and upwards. And suddenly his lungs kicked in and started begging for mercy: he needed to breathe. Panicking, he kicked at the water savagely, propelling himself swiftly through the water, and now the feeling hit him: the water was freezing. Chilling his blood and engulfing him in wave upon wave of shocking iciness, the water pulled at him, needing him, dragging him downwards, almost lustfully wanting to claim him. But his lungs would not allow it, and he tried to scream in terror, causing his mouth to fill, and then he seemed to consist of nothing but knife-like, freezing water and it was all he felt: in his mouth, his lungs, his mind; and yet he swam on.
The surface was near, he could see it, almost feel the wind above as he could now see swaying trees out there, in the wonderful world of oxygen.
But he stretched his arms, not being able to get any closer to air. His frantic actions started slowing down. The surface was too far away: he'd never make it. He kept kicking, bitterly refusing to give in.
And a picture formed in his mind.
A blurry vision: the first person he had been able to picture in his mind since this whole thing started.: someone with dark hair. That was all he could make out. Silly vision. Such a silly thing to see, while you're drowning.
And suddenly the vision was real: it was above the surface, and it reached down to Harry, stretching its arms through the water, ripples brushing against Harry's skin: he feebly grasped the arms, and the person pulled him out.
Harry's head hit fresh air and he gasped, the air blasting into his lungs and he choked on water. He coughed it out, and looked around weakly for his rescuer. Or he was about to, until a searing, terrible pain exploded just above his left elbow. He cried out, not quite knowing what to do, but suddenly, his mouth opened and he started shrieking in agony, despite the fact he didn't want to. This new voice of his screamed and pleaded with the pain, yelling between sobs "No, no!! PLEASE NO!"
He was on his hands and knees beside a massive lake, and his arms were shaky, barely supporting him, as the pain worked itself deeper into his flesh just above his left elbow. And then it stopped, so abruptly, that Harry was left panting.
No longer in control of this strange body, Harry found himself pulling up his sleeve, and inspected the now painfully sore area. Where there was once tanned skin, there was now a thin pale white arm, the same colour as the hand. But there was another change. There was a small tattoo, just above his left elbow: a livid red tattoo, of a skull, with a snake protruding from its mouth. It was smoking softly.
"The Dark Mark," Harry wanted to say, but instead, the only words his mouth formed were, "I never wanted this. DAMN YOU FATHER!"
And as he was staring through another's eyes at a Death Eater's mark, a lock of saturated silver-white hair fell across his face.
-------
"Look at his scar, man! It's gone bright red!"
"That was too freaky. Way too freaky."
"I was afraid to even touch him, he was trembling and sweating that bad!"
No mistaking that voice.
"Ron?" Harry asked groggily, and opened his eyes. Blurry. But he could still make out his surroundings. No water. No Dark Mark. He was on the floor beside his bed, his blankets tangled around his legs. He was sweating.
"Man, you're awake! God that was freaky Harry, you were having some sort of dream, and then you had a fit, trembling and everything and fell outta your bed!" Ron said worriedly, and helped to untangle Harry from the blankets. Harry put on his glasses.
"Yeah, you were groaning and sorta saying "please, no!" or something, and we woke up and pulled back your curtains and then you just." Seamus trailed off.
"You started twitching crazy-like, and just.fell. By that time we were terrified but didn't know what to do." Dean finished. "Yeah, so then we sent off Neville to get Madam Pomfrey."
But their words didn't register. Harry's mind was clouded, everything was fogging up and just as he heard Neville breathing hard, pounding up the staircase with someone behind him, his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he collapsed, his head colliding with his bedside cabinet.
-------