Disclaimer: Oh yes, of course they're mine. Just as the sun is made of ice
and money grows on trees. Miss Rowling? If you wish to sue please find
someone else, I can't even afford a lawyer let alone a settlement.
Warnings: Nope, none.
.
.
.
Blood & Nails.
.
Part Three. Home Is Where ..........
"Wow, it's um, nice."
"You always did have expensive taste." Dumbledore said, checking that he wasn't getting dirt on the carpet.
Draco smiled as he looked around. "Blame my parents for that one."
It was a very beautiful apartment and, evidently, obscenely expensive.
Draco walked around slowly, trying to see himself sitting at the table, watching the Muggle television, looking out the window, anything. He came to the conclusion it was more likely that he sat on the counter, with his feet on the table, he mostly disliked television and he'd see no point to look out the window, watching life go by instead of actually being in it.
He hopped up on the counter experimentally and swung his legs up to put his boots on the table.
"Everyone hates it when you do that." Dumbledore walked to stand next to him.
"Then they can go jump. My apartment, my rules."
A faint smile appeared on the old man's face. "Are you sure, that you were possessed for all those years?"
"I was like this?"
"The similarities are astounding."
"Them maybe Mister Evil Spirit was a better actor than we're giving him credit for."
Dumbledore sighed. "Indeed. I never saw it. Right in front of me, and I never saw it."
"You were probably too busy staring at my great arse." Draco said playfully.
Dumbledore gave a slight frown. "I don't think that was it."
"Oh, well. Your lost."
Draco leant backwards and opened one of the kitchen drawers, dragging out an ashtray and a packet of cigarettes, lighting one up.
Dumbledore tilted his head and studied the young man closely. "How did you know that?"
"Huh?" Draco looked up and exhaled smoke in a steady stream.
"How did you know those were there?"
Draco looked at the cigarette in his hand, understanding dawning in his eyes. He looked to the drawer. "I, um, I don't know. I just thought that I'd really like a cigarette. So I leant over and got one. I didn't even know I smoked."
"Hmmm, interesting."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. Don't start that crap again. It was just a cigarette."
"Perhaps. Or perhaps, when you were pushed far down, you saw things but don't remember yet?"
Draco looked thoughtful for a second. "Has that ever happened before? With other possessions?"
"I wouldn't know. I'll have someone look into it."
A look of revulsion crossed Draco's face. "This doesn't mean I'll remember the murders does it?"
"I'm afraid it might."
"Oh great, just what I need." Draco hopped down from the counter. "As if my life wasn't fucked up enough already. Let's just give me a nice production of 'Silence of the Lambs'. Up close and very personal."
"Draco? If you don't mind. I'll let myself out and give you time to get used to your surroundings."
The blonde looked back. "Yeah, sure. You probably have stuff to do anyway. Knock yourself out."
Dumbledore frowned. "Why would I want to do that?"
Draco rolled his eyes. "You should watch more television."
"You hate television."
"Yeah, but it made a nice change from listening to Crabbe and Goyle. I did it all the time."
"How on earth did you get a television to work at Hogwarts?"
Draco smiled arrogantly. "Pity the Veritaserum wore off, huh?"
Dumbledore gave a grunt of annoyance. "Indeed. Good day."
"Bye." Draco said absently, wandering around his living room. His brain vaguely registered a faint popping sound as Dumbledore Disapparated. He idly flicked through the DVD collection and them moved on to the CDs.
Nothing seemed familiar, but everything almost did. He knew for a fact the phantom must have been the one that picked out the carpet. It was the soft cream colour he liked so much. But it certainly didn't buy the curtains. While they were nice, they just weren't what he would have picked. "And that was how the damn thing had gone undetected." He announced to the room. "It had played me perfectly, not even alerting Dumbledore's suspicion."
He gingerly sat down on the lounge, trying to get a solid feeling about anything. It was almost like a constant déjà vu, if he concentrated hard enough. Like something prickling in the back of his mind. "Fucking phantom, ghost, spirit, whatever the fuck you want to be called." He ran his fingers over the material of the couch. "What did you do to me? What did you make me do?"
He stood up and walked to one of the doors. He opened it to find what looked like a studio. Either he still continued to paint, or his partner did. He walked in and looked around. Large bundles, of what was probably stacks of paintings, were lined up along the wall and covered up.
He debated for a moment to look at them, but decided against it. Not wanting to see what his phantom might have drawn, considering the side interest it had pursued, in recent times.
He returned to the living room and headed for the next door. A bedroom, probably the unused one, judging from the bare furniture. He went to the next door. A much larger bedroom. He walked in and opened the closet, almost feeling as if he was invading someone else's privacy.
Clothes that could have been his, and clothes he'd rather cut his eyes out before wearing. He took out a rather loud shirt and looked it over.
"God, I hope it's not mine." He muttered, hurriedly putting it back.
He looked around, not really seeing much, still just trying to feel something. A large mirror hung on the wall above a chest of drawers and he wandered over to it. Bewildered by how similar but different he was. He brought his hand to the scars on his neck again.
"Vampires."
Draco jumped at the voice and turned his head to the left, his eyes falling on someone he knew he should recognise. He frowned slightly and the man gave a wince.
It was the eyes that gave him away. "I'll be damned ..... and I nearly was. Harry Potter?"
"Hello, Draco." Harry moved further into the room as Draco counted the differences.
"You don't wear glasses anymore."
Harry came to a stop about two metres away and sat on the foot of the large bed. "Er, no. I got contacts. I was sick of people always saying how much like my father I looked like."
Draco gave a small smile. "I know the feeling."
Harry let out a small laugh. "Yeah, I know. Oh, I mean, um, never mind."
Draco let it go. "Do people still tell you? About your father and all?"
"Yeah, except now, I look like him with green eyes and without glasses."
Draco gave a soft laugh. "Um, how did you get in?"
Harry frowned for a little while. "They didn't tell you, did they?" He said slowly.
Draco sighed and looked back to his reflection. "They talked a lot, but didn't say much." He watched Harry in the mirror.
"Oh, um, well ............ "
Draco saw Harry's reflection look to something and he turned his head as well, to look at the other chest of drawers. Photos sat on it all the way down. Different places but the images in the foreground were all the same. Draco watched as the him in the pictures gently kissed Harry's picture self.
"Oh." He said quietly. "I guess that explains it."
"Yeah. I just came to get a few things. I hope you don't mind."
"No." Draco said softly while shaking his head. "Go right ahead."
"I'm er, going to be staying with Ron and Hermione. I'll be collecting the rest of my stuff later."
Draco turned around to look at him properly. "Um, okay. I'm, I'm sorry. I didn't know and ...... "
"No, that's okay. They were suppose to tell you before you came back. I guess they didn't know how to. I'll er, just get some things."
Draco watched quietly as Harry summoned up a suitcase and started to throw some clothes into it. They all folded themselves neatly as he reached for the next item. Draco gave a sigh of relief as the shirt he had picked up before, went into it.
"Thank god."
"Huh?" Harry frowned.
"I had worried whether that was mine." Draco pointed to the shirt on top of the pile.
Harry chuckled. "You still hate that shirt, huh? Oh, sorry. I know it wasn't really you and all that, but. Oh, um, I'll just shut up now." Harry disappeared into the side bathroom and came out holding a toothbrush and a few other things. "Um, okay. We, er, you, don't have any pets. There's some leftover Mongolian Lamb in the freezer, just heat it up in the microwave, er you've been excused from work until everything is sorted out and you get back on track, um ..... "
"Work?"
"Didn't they tell you anything?" Harry frowned angrily. "Not even your parents?"
"My parents mostly went on about how they knew I was innocent and that the Ministry had been unfair from the start. They didn't actually tell me much about me at all."
"Oh, well you *were* an Auror with me and Hermione. Ron was our curse- breaker, and the four of us all worked together. But the Ministry has taken into account that you won't remember any of your training."
"Auror groups need curse-breakers now?"
"Yeah, people are getting more inventive." Harry closed up his suitcase. "Besides, it's not like the four of us, stuck to the rules much, what with our history and all." Harry smiled grimly. "Everyone's just going to be giving you space for awhile. Oh, and you should get some rest."
"What? I haven't missed enough life already?" Draco said playfully. He stopped smiling when he saw the hurt look on the other man's face.
"I'll just be going. The list of numbers are written next to the phone, um, you remember how to work that don't you?" Draco rolled his eyes and Harry nodded. "Okay, well if you need anything, that's the quick way. We still use owls of course. I've got Hedwig with me. Oh, our neighbours are quite nice, your quite fond of Mrs Starler, she's an elderly widowed Muggle that lives to the left of us. Or at least you seemed to like her. Um, sorry. That's all I can think of right now, but if you have any questions just give me a call."
"Okay." Draco walked Harry to the door.
"Bye." Harry said sadly.
"Yeah, um, bye." Draco tossed up whether or not he was suppose to shake his hand, or kiss him on the cheek or what. But Harry left and that pretty much settled that.
Draco returned to the bedroom, kicked off his boots and took out what he supposed were his pyjama bottoms. He quickly changed and hopped into the bed. His mind itched, telling him that the bed was empty. He stretched his hand out, not feeling a warm smooth body.
It felt completely wrong.
To Be Continued.
Warnings: Nope, none.
.
.
.
Blood & Nails.
.
Part Three. Home Is Where ..........
"Wow, it's um, nice."
"You always did have expensive taste." Dumbledore said, checking that he wasn't getting dirt on the carpet.
Draco smiled as he looked around. "Blame my parents for that one."
It was a very beautiful apartment and, evidently, obscenely expensive.
Draco walked around slowly, trying to see himself sitting at the table, watching the Muggle television, looking out the window, anything. He came to the conclusion it was more likely that he sat on the counter, with his feet on the table, he mostly disliked television and he'd see no point to look out the window, watching life go by instead of actually being in it.
He hopped up on the counter experimentally and swung his legs up to put his boots on the table.
"Everyone hates it when you do that." Dumbledore walked to stand next to him.
"Then they can go jump. My apartment, my rules."
A faint smile appeared on the old man's face. "Are you sure, that you were possessed for all those years?"
"I was like this?"
"The similarities are astounding."
"Them maybe Mister Evil Spirit was a better actor than we're giving him credit for."
Dumbledore sighed. "Indeed. I never saw it. Right in front of me, and I never saw it."
"You were probably too busy staring at my great arse." Draco said playfully.
Dumbledore gave a slight frown. "I don't think that was it."
"Oh, well. Your lost."
Draco leant backwards and opened one of the kitchen drawers, dragging out an ashtray and a packet of cigarettes, lighting one up.
Dumbledore tilted his head and studied the young man closely. "How did you know that?"
"Huh?" Draco looked up and exhaled smoke in a steady stream.
"How did you know those were there?"
Draco looked at the cigarette in his hand, understanding dawning in his eyes. He looked to the drawer. "I, um, I don't know. I just thought that I'd really like a cigarette. So I leant over and got one. I didn't even know I smoked."
"Hmmm, interesting."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. Don't start that crap again. It was just a cigarette."
"Perhaps. Or perhaps, when you were pushed far down, you saw things but don't remember yet?"
Draco looked thoughtful for a second. "Has that ever happened before? With other possessions?"
"I wouldn't know. I'll have someone look into it."
A look of revulsion crossed Draco's face. "This doesn't mean I'll remember the murders does it?"
"I'm afraid it might."
"Oh great, just what I need." Draco hopped down from the counter. "As if my life wasn't fucked up enough already. Let's just give me a nice production of 'Silence of the Lambs'. Up close and very personal."
"Draco? If you don't mind. I'll let myself out and give you time to get used to your surroundings."
The blonde looked back. "Yeah, sure. You probably have stuff to do anyway. Knock yourself out."
Dumbledore frowned. "Why would I want to do that?"
Draco rolled his eyes. "You should watch more television."
"You hate television."
"Yeah, but it made a nice change from listening to Crabbe and Goyle. I did it all the time."
"How on earth did you get a television to work at Hogwarts?"
Draco smiled arrogantly. "Pity the Veritaserum wore off, huh?"
Dumbledore gave a grunt of annoyance. "Indeed. Good day."
"Bye." Draco said absently, wandering around his living room. His brain vaguely registered a faint popping sound as Dumbledore Disapparated. He idly flicked through the DVD collection and them moved on to the CDs.
Nothing seemed familiar, but everything almost did. He knew for a fact the phantom must have been the one that picked out the carpet. It was the soft cream colour he liked so much. But it certainly didn't buy the curtains. While they were nice, they just weren't what he would have picked. "And that was how the damn thing had gone undetected." He announced to the room. "It had played me perfectly, not even alerting Dumbledore's suspicion."
He gingerly sat down on the lounge, trying to get a solid feeling about anything. It was almost like a constant déjà vu, if he concentrated hard enough. Like something prickling in the back of his mind. "Fucking phantom, ghost, spirit, whatever the fuck you want to be called." He ran his fingers over the material of the couch. "What did you do to me? What did you make me do?"
He stood up and walked to one of the doors. He opened it to find what looked like a studio. Either he still continued to paint, or his partner did. He walked in and looked around. Large bundles, of what was probably stacks of paintings, were lined up along the wall and covered up.
He debated for a moment to look at them, but decided against it. Not wanting to see what his phantom might have drawn, considering the side interest it had pursued, in recent times.
He returned to the living room and headed for the next door. A bedroom, probably the unused one, judging from the bare furniture. He went to the next door. A much larger bedroom. He walked in and opened the closet, almost feeling as if he was invading someone else's privacy.
Clothes that could have been his, and clothes he'd rather cut his eyes out before wearing. He took out a rather loud shirt and looked it over.
"God, I hope it's not mine." He muttered, hurriedly putting it back.
He looked around, not really seeing much, still just trying to feel something. A large mirror hung on the wall above a chest of drawers and he wandered over to it. Bewildered by how similar but different he was. He brought his hand to the scars on his neck again.
"Vampires."
Draco jumped at the voice and turned his head to the left, his eyes falling on someone he knew he should recognise. He frowned slightly and the man gave a wince.
It was the eyes that gave him away. "I'll be damned ..... and I nearly was. Harry Potter?"
"Hello, Draco." Harry moved further into the room as Draco counted the differences.
"You don't wear glasses anymore."
Harry came to a stop about two metres away and sat on the foot of the large bed. "Er, no. I got contacts. I was sick of people always saying how much like my father I looked like."
Draco gave a small smile. "I know the feeling."
Harry let out a small laugh. "Yeah, I know. Oh, I mean, um, never mind."
Draco let it go. "Do people still tell you? About your father and all?"
"Yeah, except now, I look like him with green eyes and without glasses."
Draco gave a soft laugh. "Um, how did you get in?"
Harry frowned for a little while. "They didn't tell you, did they?" He said slowly.
Draco sighed and looked back to his reflection. "They talked a lot, but didn't say much." He watched Harry in the mirror.
"Oh, um, well ............ "
Draco saw Harry's reflection look to something and he turned his head as well, to look at the other chest of drawers. Photos sat on it all the way down. Different places but the images in the foreground were all the same. Draco watched as the him in the pictures gently kissed Harry's picture self.
"Oh." He said quietly. "I guess that explains it."
"Yeah. I just came to get a few things. I hope you don't mind."
"No." Draco said softly while shaking his head. "Go right ahead."
"I'm er, going to be staying with Ron and Hermione. I'll be collecting the rest of my stuff later."
Draco turned around to look at him properly. "Um, okay. I'm, I'm sorry. I didn't know and ...... "
"No, that's okay. They were suppose to tell you before you came back. I guess they didn't know how to. I'll er, just get some things."
Draco watched quietly as Harry summoned up a suitcase and started to throw some clothes into it. They all folded themselves neatly as he reached for the next item. Draco gave a sigh of relief as the shirt he had picked up before, went into it.
"Thank god."
"Huh?" Harry frowned.
"I had worried whether that was mine." Draco pointed to the shirt on top of the pile.
Harry chuckled. "You still hate that shirt, huh? Oh, sorry. I know it wasn't really you and all that, but. Oh, um, I'll just shut up now." Harry disappeared into the side bathroom and came out holding a toothbrush and a few other things. "Um, okay. We, er, you, don't have any pets. There's some leftover Mongolian Lamb in the freezer, just heat it up in the microwave, er you've been excused from work until everything is sorted out and you get back on track, um ..... "
"Work?"
"Didn't they tell you anything?" Harry frowned angrily. "Not even your parents?"
"My parents mostly went on about how they knew I was innocent and that the Ministry had been unfair from the start. They didn't actually tell me much about me at all."
"Oh, well you *were* an Auror with me and Hermione. Ron was our curse- breaker, and the four of us all worked together. But the Ministry has taken into account that you won't remember any of your training."
"Auror groups need curse-breakers now?"
"Yeah, people are getting more inventive." Harry closed up his suitcase. "Besides, it's not like the four of us, stuck to the rules much, what with our history and all." Harry smiled grimly. "Everyone's just going to be giving you space for awhile. Oh, and you should get some rest."
"What? I haven't missed enough life already?" Draco said playfully. He stopped smiling when he saw the hurt look on the other man's face.
"I'll just be going. The list of numbers are written next to the phone, um, you remember how to work that don't you?" Draco rolled his eyes and Harry nodded. "Okay, well if you need anything, that's the quick way. We still use owls of course. I've got Hedwig with me. Oh, our neighbours are quite nice, your quite fond of Mrs Starler, she's an elderly widowed Muggle that lives to the left of us. Or at least you seemed to like her. Um, sorry. That's all I can think of right now, but if you have any questions just give me a call."
"Okay." Draco walked Harry to the door.
"Bye." Harry said sadly.
"Yeah, um, bye." Draco tossed up whether or not he was suppose to shake his hand, or kiss him on the cheek or what. But Harry left and that pretty much settled that.
Draco returned to the bedroom, kicked off his boots and took out what he supposed were his pyjama bottoms. He quickly changed and hopped into the bed. His mind itched, telling him that the bed was empty. He stretched his hand out, not feeling a warm smooth body.
It felt completely wrong.
To Be Continued.