Disclaimer: Idea only I own, characters belong to J.K. Rowling they do and weird ideas belong to Chiho Saito and Bepapas, they do.
Notes: Thank you, Missi, for finally reviewing the second chapter. I know you were busy with some schools stuff, like I was, so I'm just glad you found the time to read and review. I must ask, though... "The Incident"?
Thank you to all the people who have reviewed so far and will review in the future. Reviews make plot bunnies bite my butt incessantly.
If anyone is wondering, I was taking Freshman Comp during the summer. I passed very, very well and thus don't have to take the course yet again.
Gates of Roses
By Spinny Roses
Chapter 3
"You're looking a lot better now," Ron said approvingly. "And you've pulled your head out of those books."
Harry's eyes quickly flicked over to Professor Snape, making sure the sour teacher was occupied with making Neville's life miserable. "I don't know why I was doing all that studying," he whispered back. "There was really no rea-"
"Mr. Potter." A shadow fell over Harry's cauldron. "I assume what you are talking about pertains to the potion you are trying to make...?"
Harry stilled, and slowly looked up at Snape's face. His hand clenched, feeling the comforting weight of his ring. "O-of course, sir," he stammered, knowing that the professor would discern the lie of the statement.
Snape's eyes flickered down to the cauldron, then back up to sneer at Harry's face. "If that is the case, then perhaps I should test your knowledge of the potion now." His eyes snapped back down, only this time taking in the white band around Harry's ring finger. Harry's hand twitched, uncomfortable with the scrutiny.
"However," the professor continued, "the class will be over shortly. I expect your potion to be the best, noble one."
Harry jumped. "Sir? What did you just say?"
"Do you have a hearing problem? I said that I expect your potion to be the best, Mr. Potter."
Slowly, the raven haired boy nodded, relaxing. "Of course, sir." The ring hugged his finger comfortingly, a warm band of metal against flesh. Ignoring Ron ("Harry! Why are you relaxing? We barely started on our potion!"), he sat back in his seat, looking down at the pink crest.
He couldn't stand another moment in the dungeons. It was too stifling, too enclosed. Harry had to be outside, with the wind blowing around him. Methodically, he worked on the potion, yearning with all his heart to smell something other than frog's liver. He had to get outside, now!
"Class is over," Snape barked out. "Bring a vial of your potions to my desk."
Harry quickly filled a vial, and dropped it off on his way out. His nostrils ached for a different smell. Instead of following Ron to the Great Hall for lunch and a game of wizard's chess, he started taking a walk around the grounds. His feet moved more quickly than they ever had before as his heart desired to find the place he wanted.
Finally, the boy came to a rest on the edge of the lake, looking over the shimmering colours. It was actually very lovely, but Harry couldn't bring himself to enjoy it.
Something was missing.
Harry stared out over the water for a while, his thoughts drifting in lazy loops. His finger suddenly became extraordinarily heavy as the ring started biting into his skin. Absently, he flexed his fingers as he stood, gathering up his school material. He turned to leave when something flittered into his peripheral vision. Something red. The raven haired boy turned to see what it was and received something soft and red on his nose as a result. As it fell, he saw what it was.
A rose petal, blood red in colour.
"What...?" he whispered, surprised. Slowly, Harry looked around, trying to see where the petals were coming from. More petals hit his cheeks and forehead, lightly teasing him with their softness. He started walking in the direction of where the petals were coming from.
A soft, familiar scent was slowly springing up on the breeze. The scent of roses surrounded Harry in a warm embrace. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. The rose scent was nice and comforting. His eyes opened slowly to take in an old and battered gate. Behind the twisted iron, a small neglected garden lay. The petals were gone, but the smell was as strong as ever.
Was this where he wanted to be? An old, long neglected garden? Harry reached down to open the gate, fully expecting the hinges to be rusted, but the gate swung open smoothly. He stood just behind the threshold, looking down at the dead flowers and overabundant weeds. He remained there for a minute longer, a little uneasy, then stepped into the garden.
A sudden gust of wind had him reflexively close his eyes. One hand raised over his eyes to protect them, and the softness of a rose petal slid over his skin. He opened his eyes, and gasped at the site before him.
A sea of roses laid before him. The garden wasn't small and dead, but large and filled with vibrant red roses. In the wind, the loose petals were torn from the sea to dance freely. The smell was light, not overpowering. Out of everything he had learned since discovering he was a wizard, this place was the most magical. Harry walked over to the centre of the garden, to the large dove fountain.
"Are you lost?"
Harry turned to the sound of an irritated voice biting out words. The speaker was the blond Slytherin he had seen.
'Seen? Seen where?' Harry's brain popped up, trying to make him believe he wanted to think about where he had seen the Slytherin. It had probably been in one of his classes. After all, he had several classes with Slytherins. The boy standing before him... his name was...
"No, Malfoy, I'm not lost," Harry shot back coolly. His hand flexed, feeling the light weight of the ring as he moved. He felt like there was something special about the blond before him, but the only thing he could come up with was that Malfoy was an insufferable git.
Malfoy's distant eyes glanced quickly at the ring, then back up into Harry's emerald eyes. "You do qualify to be here," he said reluctantly. After saying that, Malfoy picked up a hose and started spraying the roses.
"A Malfoy, doing work?" Harry jeered, inwardly shocked at his behaviour. He was acting as if he knew the boy, but that had to be impossible.
Didn't it?
Malfoy didn't answer immediately. "Even I have a Master, Potter," he said softly, voice devoid of all emotions. "I belong here, with the roses, tending to them. For that is what my Master has told me." His hands clenched, belying his voice.
Harry blinked at Malfoy's words and actions. "What are you...?" he asked, reaching out for the boy.
"Manhandling my property, Potter?" A singularly ugly boy with worse teeth than Hermione appeared behind Malfoy, his hand firmly on the smaller boy's shoulder. "Didn't anyone teach you it isn't nice to play with what belongs to someone else?" With a vicious yank, the boy pulled Malfoy to his chest.
One word stood out to the Gryffindor. "Property?" Harry bristled at the thought that the wizarding world was still using humans as slaves. "A person isn't property!"
"No, a person is not property," the boy sneered. "However, Draco isn't a person. Are you?"
Malfoy said blankly, "I am not a person." His eyes glinted, the only sign of rebellion
"Who is your Master?"
"You are, Flint." His hands twitched.
Flint raised his eyes to the disgusted Harry. "You see? This boy..." He traced a line down Malfoy's cheek. "...has no soul. He is my property."
"A human being can't be property." Harry stubbornly repeated, his hands flexing. Rules be damned; if Flint pissed him off more, he was going for his wand.
Flint glanced from the Gryffindor badge down at his ring. "Ah." His other hand rose to pet Malfoy's hair, a similar ring encircling his ring finger. "So you duel. And here I thought you were just a stupid Gryffindor." He ignored how Harry took offence at that, and gripped Malfoy's pointed chin in a hard grasp. "You want to free him? It isn't possible, Potter."
"Yes." Harry set his jaw, determined. "Yes, it is possible."
Flint tilted his head to one side, then released Malfoy. "Prepare us, Draco."
Harry may not have known anything about wizard duels, but somehow he believed it had nothing to do with Malfoy picking two roses from the vast sea before him. The blond walked over to Harry, and fixed the rose onto his robe with a little magic. "When your rose's petals are scattered, you lose the duel," he murmured ritualistically. "Potter... do you have your wand?"
Harry nodded, reaching for his wand as Malfoy went over to Flint to fix the rose to his robe. He watched as Flint pulled out his wand, and handed it to Malfoy. The younger boy held the wand to his chest, and it disappeared in a burst of light. Before Harry had a chance to say anything, Flint shoved his hand into Malfoy's chest to pull out a perfectly clean rapier.
Malfoy turned to Harry, his eyes tired, as he reached for Potter's wand. Reluctantly, he gave the blond his wand. He couldn't do what Flint had done... reaching into Malfoy's chest like that. There had to be another way... one that didn't include hurting Malfoy.
Rose petals swept past Harry's face as Malfoy opened his hands, the Gryffindor's wand gone. Gently, the blond placed his hand in the middle of his own chest, then frowned.
"Draco, what are you doing?" Flint asked acerbically. "Draw the sword!"
"I can't," Malfoy got out around clenched teeth. "There isn't a sword to draw." He lowered his hands, stepping back.
"No..." Flint laughed. "In other words, he randomly picked up that ring. There's nothing special about this boy, other than he's the Boy Who Lived." He raised his rapier. "Well then. We should finish this duel as soon as possible so I can do what I had planned." Flint slid into position, then struck, aiming perfectly for the rose.
Harry twisted away, his hand covering the rose. "I don't need a sword to duel," he said recklessly. "I'll beat you without one."
"You can't duel without a sword." Flint stabbed out again, trying for the rose.
Harry dodged again, the rapier leaving a long scratch on his hand. "I won't lose."
Flint smirked, and struck again. "You've already... Draco!" He deflected his strike at the last moment, causing a deep cut to appear on Malfoy's pale cheek.
Malfoy stood between the two boys, defiance written in every twitch of muscle. "One cannot duel without a sword." He turned to Harry, and cupped his cheek, gently sliding to rest on Harry's chest. Malfoy looked up into Harry's eyes, then leaned forward so their lips were barely touching. "Do you promise to win?" he whispered.
"I will win," Harry promised. He felt too small for his skin. Something had to come out...
Malfoy pulled his hand away, and a sword started to spring from the Gryffindor's chest to follow his hand. Harry barely heard Flint gasp. Instead, he bent back, allowing the sword to be drawn fully. He watched the blade point to the sky, and he straightened his back, reflexively sliding an arm behind Malfoy to keep him from falling over. Harry reached out, and took the sword. Then he pointed it at Flint, ready to stake the duel on one strike.
Malfoy regained his balance and stepped away from Harry. Flint watched this with narrowed eyes. "Impossible," he hissed. "It was drawn... from..." He straightened. "No matter. You will lose anyway."
Harry tensed, then starting running at Flint, prepared to slash the rose off. Flint took the challenge, and charged at him. The two combatants met with the sound of the two swords meeting, and the air was filled with rose petals as a wind sprung up. He turned to see Flint falling to his knees in defeat, Harry's own rose still perfect. He automatically shifted his grip as the sword transformed back to his wand.
Malfoy looked down at Flint, then at Harry. Slowly, he fell to his knees in servitude. "Harry Potter. I am Draco Malfoy. From this day forward, I am your flower."