Author: DemonicCharity
Title: Lost Boys
Rating: R for language and violent themes. Plus everyone just wants to read an R rated ficcie.
Warnings: Slashy, but not to bad now. Will be H/D later tho. Don't like don't read.
Disclaimer: They aren't mine. If they were, I'd be rich, beautiful and would control all the children of the world because they love the characters so much. I'm just borrowing for the moment.
Spoilers: SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OotP
A/N: OMG!!! I deserve to be shot for this offense! It's been WAY too long! I mean. . . MY GOD!!! WHERE ARE MY PLOT BUNNIES!?!?! How long has it been? Two months? Longer? I am so so so so so sorry! Please don't kill me!!!! I hope this chapter is . . . sort of good. Review and I will pray to you before I go to bed every night.
Chapter 5 : Assumptions and Summons
Draco didn't know if he had ever sat though a potions class that had lasted *that* long before in his entire life. Everything seemed so . . . out of proportion was the only way Draco could describe it. The dungeons were darker than usual and Snape even more vicious to him, if that was at all possible. It was hard for him to understand why Snape could hate him so much because of what his father had done to him, but understanding the nasty potions professor didn't help the situation at all. He would still be hated and would lose points no matter if his potion was better than Granger's or not. Not that he minded losing Gryffindor house points. Hell, he had done everything he could at home to make sure that they lost as many as possible.
But losing Gryffindor points wasn't on his mind as he made his way to the great hall for dinner, it was Har-no, it was Potter. His behavior had been. . . well . . strange. He had never seen Potter so. . . playful. What the hell was this game that he had started?
*A game of the heart, Draco Malfoy. A dangerous game of truth and emotions. . .* Harry barely brushed his lips against Draco's neck before he backed up, smirking. *Meet me tonight at midnight by Hagrid's hut. Near the edge of the forest. The game begins . . .*
A game of the heart? What kind of bullshit was that? Potter didn't *have* a heart. Atleast not that he had been aware of. 'You would think that I'd be able to relate to him because I've lived his bloody life, but no. He's a complete 180 degrees from what I used to be. Damn . . . I'm thinking too much again.'
Sitting down quietly at the end of the Gryffindor table where there were only first years and empty seats, he pulled his Defense book out and began rereading chapter 9, for the sixth time since it was assigned. Yesterday.
No one really had any explanation on how Draco had suddenly turned a cold shoulder to his friends and began getting even better grades than Hermione Granger, except that he had joined the Dark Lord. They assumed that was why he lost his scar. After all, You-Know-Who didn't need a servant who screamed in agony when he was within five meters of him, now did he?
Draco snorted, shaking his head as he heard more whispers of a new alliance between him and Potter. "You would think that they would have something more interesting to talk about, wouldn't you?" A foreign voice asked, making Draco lose his place in his reading and look up, only to see a smirking Potter, taking a seat across from him, waving his wand over his goblet, filling it with a liquid that smelled disturbingly like liquor. A taste Draco had not been able to fill since he had arrived.
"What the hell are you doing over here?" Draco snarled, snatching Har-no, Potter's goblet and downing half the liquor in one gulp, savoring the flavor of his favorite wine. Maybe they had more in common than he had thought before. The boy did have good taste when it came to fashion and good drinks, but something was off about Potter . . . Something Draco just couldn't put his finger on.
"Oh, nothing in particular. I just wanted to encourage the many colorful rumors that are flying around," Potter smirked. "I love to see the little first years so," he snarled at a nearby first year, making him jump and yelp, "excited," Potter laughed.
"Indeed," Draco said, his eyes narrowed as he sipped the wine.
"Aw, come on, Malfoy, you like to scare the little buggers just as much as I do," Potter said, refilling Draco's goblet and filling another one he had snatched from near by. "Besides, I need your professional opinion on a matter."
"The word 'professional' entails money, Potter," Draco said, an eye brow raised slightly. "What could you possibly need my help for, that you would be willing to hand out-" Draco was cut off as a small brown bag on galleons dropped infront of his plate.
"I don't give a shit about money, Malfoy," Harry stated truthfully. "I do have a soul, you know," he looked up at the night sky, then added as an after thought, "But don't tell anyone, yeah? I have a 'reputation' to keep up."
Draco sighed, shutting his book and putting it away. "Of course. We all do, though you seem amused to tarnish mine."
"Now, now. There's no need to play dirty. You're record was already tarnished long before I cornered you in the halls today. You don't need to blame everything on your school nemesis." Harry stole a bread roll from Draco's plate and bit into it, ignoring Draco's look of death.
"And what the hell was that all about, Potter?" Draco hissed, grabbing the roll back from Harry's hand and taking a bite himself.
"Possessive tonight, aren't we?" Harry asked, swirling his drink and downing the rest of it. "That issue will be addressed tonight, unless your to *afraid* to come . . ."
"Potter-"
"Let's just get down to why I'm here, shall we?" Harry asked professionally, reaching inside his robes and pulling out a thick, cream colored envelope. "I just received this from my father today. It was waiting for me on my bed when I got back from Potions. Apparently my owl. . . if you could call that monestrous beast an owl. . .left it for me when I wasn't at breakfast."
"And I should care because . . .?"
"I find the news inside *very* intriguing. . . Have a look, why don't you?" Harry asked, setting the envelope down on the table and sliding it across to him. "I'm sure you'll find it just as fascinating."
"And how do I know that it's safe?" Draco asked, looking at the envelope warily. "A portkey could roll out onto my hand or-"
"Don't be daft, Draco!" Harry rolled his eyes. "I may be a moron at times, but do you really think that I would try something that stupid in the middle of the Great Hall, where Albus Dumbledore, leader of the side of Light, sits, happily drinking tea and conversing with some of the most powerful wizards and witches we've seen in a *very* long time?"
"You're asking me if I trust you?" Draco asked incredulously, an eye brow raised.
"If you want to look at it that way. . ." Harry said airily, staring down at Ronald Weasley with a smirk. He turned his attention back to Draco and nodded down at the letter. "Read it. Go on. I give you my word as Potter that no harm will come to you when you read that letter."
"Like I should trust a promise like that!" The blonde boy scoffed, but picked up the letter all the same, carefully opening the envelope and opening the pages.
"You should know how it feels to owe your family your allegiance, Draco Malfoy," Harry said quietly. "And you should know how it feels to break that allegiance."
Draco's eyes narrowed, but he shook his head and began reading.
'Dearest Son,
I have once again heard that you have been brawling with the Malfoy boy, acting like common muggle trash that you would find on the streets of London. How many times have I told you that this behavior is unacceptable? How many times must you be punished before the idea will stick in your silly head? You have strict orders from Our Lord to keep silent watch, not to be parading around, trying to show off the powers that have been granted to you!
Our Lord has scheduled another meeting for tonight at the Riddle mansion. You will no doubt be notified of the time. Tardiness will no longer be accepted, Harry. You are the Chosen of the Darkness, you have certain responsibilities to fulfill.
It is assumed that Our Lord will discuss the matter of you dropping out of Hogwarts at this meeting. Apparently, there is another who will spy on Dumbledore for us now. You brought him to me three weeks back as a potential. He has passed Our Lord's tests and was initiated last Thursday. Our Lord was rather disappointed that he was no longer friends with the Boy-Who-Lived, but saw the 'talent waiting to be unlocked' within this boy.
I will not expect a response from you, Harry, but I do expect you to be at Riddle Mansion *on time* tonight.
Father
Draco looked up at Potter, his mouth bobbing open and closed as Potter calmly lit up a fag and took a deep drag. "He can sure pull off the whole fatherly love issue while being such an asshole, can't he?"
He offered the vanilla scented fag to Draco who took it with a shaking arm and took a deep drag also, trying to work things out in his head. He looked up at Harry and shook his head. "What kind of a fucking moron is your father? Shouldn't he have spelled this to be destroyed once you have read it?"
"Should have. Probably forgot," Harry shrugged. "Now this is where I need your opinion. . ."
Draco set the paper on fire himself, ignoring the odd looks he was getting from everyone around him. "Why would you need my opinion on this, Potter? You're a happy little Death Eater . . . This has nothing to do with me. . ."
"Hmm. Perhaps," Harry said thoughtfully. "But I was wondering . . . What did he mean that I would 'no doubt be notified of the time'?"
"Are you completely stupid, Potter?" Draco sneered.
"Depends on the subject being discussed. As we're talking about the Dark Lord, I feel rather left out," Harry said softly, taking the fag back from Draco, taking a drag, staring at the charred ashes on the table.
"Your Dark Mark, stupid. How else does the Dark Lord summon his followers?" Draco asked, pushing a bit of food around his plate, rolling his eyes.
"Ah. Right. Dark Mark. That makes sense," Harry laughed, then flung a spoonful of mashed potatoes at a first year, sneering as they glared at him.
Draco couldn't help but to be shocked. Potter was the Dark Lords right hand man, and he was asking him, supposedly Voldemort's worst enemy, how the Dark Lord contacts his spies? Had the world gone mad or was it just Potter?
"Well, now that that's settled," Harry stated, standing up, dropping his fag to the floor and crushing it with his boot, "I should get-"
Draco hissed in pain, shoving his left arm under the table and covering his forearm with his right hand. The Mark was burning, and he thought he saw Harry stumble backwards, clutching his forehead and covering what looked suspiciously like a lightning bolt shaped scar. If Draco could think clearly, he would have been cursing Voldemort to have summoned so early, when he *knew* that Hogwarts had dinner at 6:00. If he could think clearly, he would have thought it a little to ironic that Harry Potter rushed out of the room, clutching his lightning bolt shaped scar. . . a scar he wasn't supposed to have.
Title: Lost Boys
Rating: R for language and violent themes. Plus everyone just wants to read an R rated ficcie.
Warnings: Slashy, but not to bad now. Will be H/D later tho. Don't like don't read.
Disclaimer: They aren't mine. If they were, I'd be rich, beautiful and would control all the children of the world because they love the characters so much. I'm just borrowing for the moment.
Spoilers: SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OotP
A/N: OMG!!! I deserve to be shot for this offense! It's been WAY too long! I mean. . . MY GOD!!! WHERE ARE MY PLOT BUNNIES!?!?! How long has it been? Two months? Longer? I am so so so so so sorry! Please don't kill me!!!! I hope this chapter is . . . sort of good. Review and I will pray to you before I go to bed every night.
Chapter 5 : Assumptions and Summons
Draco didn't know if he had ever sat though a potions class that had lasted *that* long before in his entire life. Everything seemed so . . . out of proportion was the only way Draco could describe it. The dungeons were darker than usual and Snape even more vicious to him, if that was at all possible. It was hard for him to understand why Snape could hate him so much because of what his father had done to him, but understanding the nasty potions professor didn't help the situation at all. He would still be hated and would lose points no matter if his potion was better than Granger's or not. Not that he minded losing Gryffindor house points. Hell, he had done everything he could at home to make sure that they lost as many as possible.
But losing Gryffindor points wasn't on his mind as he made his way to the great hall for dinner, it was Har-no, it was Potter. His behavior had been. . . well . . strange. He had never seen Potter so. . . playful. What the hell was this game that he had started?
*A game of the heart, Draco Malfoy. A dangerous game of truth and emotions. . .* Harry barely brushed his lips against Draco's neck before he backed up, smirking. *Meet me tonight at midnight by Hagrid's hut. Near the edge of the forest. The game begins . . .*
A game of the heart? What kind of bullshit was that? Potter didn't *have* a heart. Atleast not that he had been aware of. 'You would think that I'd be able to relate to him because I've lived his bloody life, but no. He's a complete 180 degrees from what I used to be. Damn . . . I'm thinking too much again.'
Sitting down quietly at the end of the Gryffindor table where there were only first years and empty seats, he pulled his Defense book out and began rereading chapter 9, for the sixth time since it was assigned. Yesterday.
No one really had any explanation on how Draco had suddenly turned a cold shoulder to his friends and began getting even better grades than Hermione Granger, except that he had joined the Dark Lord. They assumed that was why he lost his scar. After all, You-Know-Who didn't need a servant who screamed in agony when he was within five meters of him, now did he?
Draco snorted, shaking his head as he heard more whispers of a new alliance between him and Potter. "You would think that they would have something more interesting to talk about, wouldn't you?" A foreign voice asked, making Draco lose his place in his reading and look up, only to see a smirking Potter, taking a seat across from him, waving his wand over his goblet, filling it with a liquid that smelled disturbingly like liquor. A taste Draco had not been able to fill since he had arrived.
"What the hell are you doing over here?" Draco snarled, snatching Har-no, Potter's goblet and downing half the liquor in one gulp, savoring the flavor of his favorite wine. Maybe they had more in common than he had thought before. The boy did have good taste when it came to fashion and good drinks, but something was off about Potter . . . Something Draco just couldn't put his finger on.
"Oh, nothing in particular. I just wanted to encourage the many colorful rumors that are flying around," Potter smirked. "I love to see the little first years so," he snarled at a nearby first year, making him jump and yelp, "excited," Potter laughed.
"Indeed," Draco said, his eyes narrowed as he sipped the wine.
"Aw, come on, Malfoy, you like to scare the little buggers just as much as I do," Potter said, refilling Draco's goblet and filling another one he had snatched from near by. "Besides, I need your professional opinion on a matter."
"The word 'professional' entails money, Potter," Draco said, an eye brow raised slightly. "What could you possibly need my help for, that you would be willing to hand out-" Draco was cut off as a small brown bag on galleons dropped infront of his plate.
"I don't give a shit about money, Malfoy," Harry stated truthfully. "I do have a soul, you know," he looked up at the night sky, then added as an after thought, "But don't tell anyone, yeah? I have a 'reputation' to keep up."
Draco sighed, shutting his book and putting it away. "Of course. We all do, though you seem amused to tarnish mine."
"Now, now. There's no need to play dirty. You're record was already tarnished long before I cornered you in the halls today. You don't need to blame everything on your school nemesis." Harry stole a bread roll from Draco's plate and bit into it, ignoring Draco's look of death.
"And what the hell was that all about, Potter?" Draco hissed, grabbing the roll back from Harry's hand and taking a bite himself.
"Possessive tonight, aren't we?" Harry asked, swirling his drink and downing the rest of it. "That issue will be addressed tonight, unless your to *afraid* to come . . ."
"Potter-"
"Let's just get down to why I'm here, shall we?" Harry asked professionally, reaching inside his robes and pulling out a thick, cream colored envelope. "I just received this from my father today. It was waiting for me on my bed when I got back from Potions. Apparently my owl. . . if you could call that monestrous beast an owl. . .left it for me when I wasn't at breakfast."
"And I should care because . . .?"
"I find the news inside *very* intriguing. . . Have a look, why don't you?" Harry asked, setting the envelope down on the table and sliding it across to him. "I'm sure you'll find it just as fascinating."
"And how do I know that it's safe?" Draco asked, looking at the envelope warily. "A portkey could roll out onto my hand or-"
"Don't be daft, Draco!" Harry rolled his eyes. "I may be a moron at times, but do you really think that I would try something that stupid in the middle of the Great Hall, where Albus Dumbledore, leader of the side of Light, sits, happily drinking tea and conversing with some of the most powerful wizards and witches we've seen in a *very* long time?"
"You're asking me if I trust you?" Draco asked incredulously, an eye brow raised.
"If you want to look at it that way. . ." Harry said airily, staring down at Ronald Weasley with a smirk. He turned his attention back to Draco and nodded down at the letter. "Read it. Go on. I give you my word as Potter that no harm will come to you when you read that letter."
"Like I should trust a promise like that!" The blonde boy scoffed, but picked up the letter all the same, carefully opening the envelope and opening the pages.
"You should know how it feels to owe your family your allegiance, Draco Malfoy," Harry said quietly. "And you should know how it feels to break that allegiance."
Draco's eyes narrowed, but he shook his head and began reading.
'Dearest Son,
I have once again heard that you have been brawling with the Malfoy boy, acting like common muggle trash that you would find on the streets of London. How many times have I told you that this behavior is unacceptable? How many times must you be punished before the idea will stick in your silly head? You have strict orders from Our Lord to keep silent watch, not to be parading around, trying to show off the powers that have been granted to you!
Our Lord has scheduled another meeting for tonight at the Riddle mansion. You will no doubt be notified of the time. Tardiness will no longer be accepted, Harry. You are the Chosen of the Darkness, you have certain responsibilities to fulfill.
It is assumed that Our Lord will discuss the matter of you dropping out of Hogwarts at this meeting. Apparently, there is another who will spy on Dumbledore for us now. You brought him to me three weeks back as a potential. He has passed Our Lord's tests and was initiated last Thursday. Our Lord was rather disappointed that he was no longer friends with the Boy-Who-Lived, but saw the 'talent waiting to be unlocked' within this boy.
I will not expect a response from you, Harry, but I do expect you to be at Riddle Mansion *on time* tonight.
Father
Draco looked up at Potter, his mouth bobbing open and closed as Potter calmly lit up a fag and took a deep drag. "He can sure pull off the whole fatherly love issue while being such an asshole, can't he?"
He offered the vanilla scented fag to Draco who took it with a shaking arm and took a deep drag also, trying to work things out in his head. He looked up at Harry and shook his head. "What kind of a fucking moron is your father? Shouldn't he have spelled this to be destroyed once you have read it?"
"Should have. Probably forgot," Harry shrugged. "Now this is where I need your opinion. . ."
Draco set the paper on fire himself, ignoring the odd looks he was getting from everyone around him. "Why would you need my opinion on this, Potter? You're a happy little Death Eater . . . This has nothing to do with me. . ."
"Hmm. Perhaps," Harry said thoughtfully. "But I was wondering . . . What did he mean that I would 'no doubt be notified of the time'?"
"Are you completely stupid, Potter?" Draco sneered.
"Depends on the subject being discussed. As we're talking about the Dark Lord, I feel rather left out," Harry said softly, taking the fag back from Draco, taking a drag, staring at the charred ashes on the table.
"Your Dark Mark, stupid. How else does the Dark Lord summon his followers?" Draco asked, pushing a bit of food around his plate, rolling his eyes.
"Ah. Right. Dark Mark. That makes sense," Harry laughed, then flung a spoonful of mashed potatoes at a first year, sneering as they glared at him.
Draco couldn't help but to be shocked. Potter was the Dark Lords right hand man, and he was asking him, supposedly Voldemort's worst enemy, how the Dark Lord contacts his spies? Had the world gone mad or was it just Potter?
"Well, now that that's settled," Harry stated, standing up, dropping his fag to the floor and crushing it with his boot, "I should get-"
Draco hissed in pain, shoving his left arm under the table and covering his forearm with his right hand. The Mark was burning, and he thought he saw Harry stumble backwards, clutching his forehead and covering what looked suspiciously like a lightning bolt shaped scar. If Draco could think clearly, he would have been cursing Voldemort to have summoned so early, when he *knew* that Hogwarts had dinner at 6:00. If he could think clearly, he would have thought it a little to ironic that Harry Potter rushed out of the room, clutching his lightning bolt shaped scar. . . a scar he wasn't supposed to have.