Title: Dungeons and Distractions v2.0

Author: Mizzy

E-mail: mizzy_2k@yahoo.co.uk

Rating: PG-13

Homepage: ;

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Summary: "Grab my wrist!" Midnight martial arts, invisible kissing at midnight, and Professor Dumbledore trying to smuggle in illegal immigrants? What's a boy to do in a mixed-up muddle of a mixed-up world?

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Part Five - "Aramantal"

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Dedicated: To goldensummer, who now must love me forever. Hah.

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Aramantal

Undying, forever, everlasting

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Harry approached the night's lessons with a little less vigour than usual. He didn't even say anything in return to Ernie's tentative hello, or Lisa's attempt at conversation, instead preferring to storm down the corridor blindly. He wasn't so mad at Draco any more, that much was for sure. Ten minutes before he was due to head down to the dungeons and the midnight lesson, Harry hit on an epiphany on to who he was mad at. It wasn't even Professor Trelawney.

It was himself.

This epiphany kept his mind more or less occupied, and he let Trelawney Charm him invisible almost without making the mandatory withering glare he normally made at her as she pranced around in her silvery clothing. It had been the stubborn desire of every student in the sixth year to give Mrs. Norris a sturdy kick, that much was still true, but this desire had increased to wanting to 'accidentally' kicking the snooping moggy into Professor Trelawney and have said teacher fall with the cat down a long set of stairs. Or into an open pit that led to hell.

Oh, the General Studies class knew by now that she was a lot more genuine at predicting the future (and Harry knew this more than the others), but, as always has happened in the course of history, she became despised in the class of "smart arse." It wasn't so much that she was always constantly annoying right that was the matter. It was her saccharine falseness and bright colours and occasional dim-witted sentences and more than occasion dumb ideas that drove her class, and the staff, up the wall.

As Harry began to stumble, invisible, through the doorway into the dungeon room that he normally trained in on Fridays, he resisted the urge to give Professor Trelawney and Sensei Matani a good shove, and instead focussed himself on concentrating. His stomach grumbling suddenly and viciously didn't help him much either. He'd skipped dinner to concentrate on his own problem.

Sickened at himself, and his own 'me, me, me' attitude, Harry felt a small movement near his left elbow and lashed out neatly with his left leg. A satisfying thud later, Harry felt a grin widen on his face and the warmth of success blossom, and lifted his leg to kick Draco now he was on the floor. At my feet, Harry reflected sunnily.

"Mr. Potter, please refrain from hitting your opponent when he's down."

Harry's gaze lurched to the window where Sensei Matani was standing impatiently and looking bored, and winced as he put his foot down. Then he flushed as he realised what had just happened, and he started.

"Sorry sensei." A sudden grin crossed Harry's face in spite of the churning worry that was currently twisting in his gut. If Matani could see them both despite the invisibility Charm… Well, of course it made sense, Harry didn't know why he hadn't considered it before, but… If Matani could, then he would have seen The Kiss. It was definitely an event requiring capitals, even though it wasn't the only kiss that had happened now, but if Matani had seen… Harry searched fruitlessly for an adjective to describe the situation, and the only ones he could come up with had four-letters in them and were detention-material. "He does deserve it, though."

Matani actually chuckled, and from the grunt, Harry knew his opponent was getting up.

"Bloody well didn't," his opponent grunted, the accent and intonation confirming that it was Draco. There wasn't anybody else it could have been, of course, but Harry liked to have confirmation all the same. It gave him a sense that revenge was definitely essential, and vindication requisite.

"You bloody well did, Malfoy."

"I bloody well didn't," Draco instantly protested, surreptitiously rubbing his leg and glancing curiously at Sensei Matani who was looking straight at them. He glanced across to where Harry's voice was coming from to check that the Invisibility Charm was still working. It was. All he could see was white padded walls, and got that thin rush of nausea that this was a room they used to put insane people in… There was the gap where the doorway was, and the large panel window that Matani was currently leaning up against and looking at them through. "Besides," Draco added to overcome the sense of nausea the white walls brought on, "everything is always your fault anyway, Potter."

Harry resisted the urge to flick a two-fingered insult at the insolent blond, instead he glanced back at Matani.

"Sensei, can you tell him it isn't my fault?"

Matani frowned. "No. But I give you permission for a free hit with your bo."

Before Draco had time to blink, Harry had hit out with his bo where he figured Draco was from where his voice had come from, and Draco tumbled to the ground.

"Hey!"

Draco frowned, massaged his leg for a second before gathering his strength. He leapt to his feet in one swift movement, swiping his bo out to the left. It clashed with Harry's, and the sound of wood and wood filled the air as they were brought up again and again with resounding clashes.

Harry was having difficulty holding the just-under-six-foot wooden pole. The constant blows from Draco, and the ones he returned, were making the bo vibrate under the strain, and his arms and hands were both aching. Soon all enmity was almost completely forgotten as adrenaline surged and the thirst for blood rose up, an animal instinct, before either could vocalise or even really understand what was going on. Harry felt the sudden thrill of being a predator as he felt Draco weaken, and he decided to end it. Striking Draco's bo full on, the blond was forced to drop it as it shuddered out of his hands, and Harry dropped to one hand, kicking Draco's legs from under him. The Slytherin dropped to the ground for the third time that session, and shimmered visible.

Shocked, Harry's gaze lurched up to Sensei Matani, but the balding martial arts master was already stunned into action. The door was flung open, and the Sensei rushed in, waving his wand and making Harry visible again. Matani leant over Draco, and felt his pulse, a worried frown on his face. Harry felt panic rise like bile in his throat, and the whole nausea that had lightly been plaguing him all day overwhelmed him. He vomited as Matani checked on Draco, and Harry turned in time to see Matani hoist Draco over his shoulder and look at Harry's mess and then at Harry squarely.

"You knocked him out," Matani explained to Harry, as Professor Trelawney fluttered into the room on her high heels, looking like an overgrown butterfly. Trelawney gasped, and held her hands to her face at the scene which had distracted from the perfect routine that she had concocted in her own head. "I'll take him up to the infirmary," Matani added, shaking his head in wonder at Harry before striding out of the room.

Trelawney looked flatly at Harry. Harry was pale and shaking, sweat on his forehead and drenching his hair which was plastered to his forehead. He dropped his bo on the floor, and it clattered to the soft ground. Trelawney watched it fall before looking at Harry, her eyes which were heavily rimmed with mascara open and wide with shock. Harry stared at her, the curiously green shade of his eyes burning into Trelawney's consciousness until it almost blinded her, and she looked away from the burning gaze.

"Didn't foresee this, did you?" Harry sniffed in disgust, and stalked out of the room angrily. He was disgusted at himself, but Trelawney translated the shock as repulsion at her and she dropped to her knees, wondering what they'd done to Harry. He'd been naïve, open, and innocent when he'd arrived at Hogwarts and now… Now he was changing, and she wasn't sure as if they'd like what he changed into.

Thinking quickly, she scrambled to her feet, feeling nauseous from the smell of Harry's physical disgust, and he ran after her student.

"Harry, wait!"

At the end of the corridor, Harry turned, his gaze still accusing as he waited for the fragile teacher to catch him up.

"Yes, Professor?"

"This is all my fault. Our fault. We made you like this."

Harry stared at Trelawney like she'd grown an extra head. Trelawney resisted the urge to bite her flamboyantly painted fake fingernails, and recognised what had happened in part to Harry. He had a self-assured confidence in herself that she rarely saw in students. Harry was no child, she saw that now. The sixth year was an adult, and had been forced to mature far more rapidly than anyone should have.

"I won't deny that," Harry replied, his voice calm and cool which scared Trelawney more than if he'd screamed at her. Anger she could deal with, but this Harry - silent and calm, like a predator ready to pounce on his helpless prey - it scared her more than anything. A chill ran along her spine like when she'd had her first ever true prediction.

When she'd predicted Harry's entrance into the world and how important he may eventually be. A warrior of all that was good and right.

"When you… came here… You were naïve. Young. Innocent. What happened?"

Harry snorted derisively as if she was completely stupid. "I grew up." His gaze met hers challengingly. "A lot faster than I was supposed to. I grew up when someone died because of me. Three times it's happened, and I won't let it happen again." He clenched his fists, an unconscious gesture. "I won't," he repeated. He stepped closer to Trelawney then, and she stifled the scream that started to rise in her throat, but instead he squeezed her hand gently. He was much more the adult than she at that moment. "I need you to find something wrong with the augurs. Something fake."

Startled, Trelawney blinked, not thinking to move her hand. Harry's grip was firm, and her slim hand was turning white. "Wh- what? But there's nothing wrong with--"

"I know that." Harry looked at her again, and Trelawney knew he was no student any more. Not a child, but a warrior that they had shaped in their own image, with their knowledge and with a power they knew nothing of. "Fake it. I need…" Harry shrugged, then, seeming lost in himself, in everything. His stature that had seemed to great, so adult and mature, moments before seemed to melt away in a moment and he was lost - a small speck of dust in the infinity of the universe. "I don't need anyone close to me. I don't need to lose anyone again."

Trelawney nodded, feeling her throat tighten up. "I guess… I can find something. But you love him, don't you?" She lifted her gaze up resolutely, an unspoken challenge in her voice, and Harry dropped his gaze to the floor. An eternity of turmoil flashed across his face. The kisses, the warmth, the memories flooded upwards and died in his eyes. He nodded, once, before letting go of her hand. "Forever," was all he said, before silently padding out of the dungeons and out of sight.

She didn't know how long she stood there. Long enough for the other students to finish their specialized classes, and long enough for them all to have left. Long enough for Sensei Matani to come back down to the dungeons and wrap his arms around her, comforting her, submerging the immense inexplicable sorrow she felt that burned and would not go away for a long time.

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When Draco finally regained consciousness in the small hours of Saturday morning, he'd almost instinctively known that Harry had been watching him, but wasn't there now. Struggling upright, he blinked a bit and waited for the dizziness of sitting up too fast to pass, before looking around the dimly lit infirmary. He wasn't the only occupant. Two beds over, a blonde girl in plaits hugged her teddy bear and was resplendent with her violet skin. He chuckled to himself, remembering when he'd turned Crabbe yellow in Potions a few weeks ago. The three beds after the violet-and-blonde girl were all occupied by boys. One of them looked like he was half-cat, half-human, one had violent warts sprouting all over his face and arms, and the third kept rising up off the bed two feet, fluttering his arms a little before sinking back down onto the bed.

Draco closed his eyes, feeling the coolness of moonlight streaming in from the windows to caress his face for a few seconds before he opened his eyes again. On the narrow wooden table at the foot of his bed was a single roll of parchment. He figured it had to be some kind of scrawled apology from Harry, and leant forwards, ignoring the flash of pain that skidded across his leg and head. Twisting, and unrolling the parchment, so that he could read the words in the moonlight, Draco frowned and began to read.

"Draco.

"Sorry."

Draco smiled to himself at the first two words, the scruffy words proclaiming itself as Harry's writing before he looked down to the bottom for the signature. It was an apology. Draco surprised himself at his own clarity of clairvoyance sometimes, or perhaps it was Harry's own Gryffindor reliability, always doing the honourable thing.

Rolling his eyes melodramatically even though no one was around to witness his scorn at the Gryffindors, but still wanting to keep in practice, Draco felt a tingle through his hands. It was something that had happened over the last couple of weeks to be honest. Every time Harry was near he just felt… different. Stupider. Like the floor was jelly beneath his feet. He smiled to himself, feeling happy despite the pain, and read on.

"Of course it was your fault, it can't have been mine - after all I couldn't see where you were, you were invisible - so if it wasn't mine it must have been yours. Anyway, I found out Sensei Matani can see us when we're invisible! Weird, really, I should have thought of it. He hasn't said anything of course, but I'm sure that incident will be mentioned eventually, and when it does I'll thank you to deny it. In my mind it never happened. Professor Trelawney has admitted the love augurs were all wrong anyway, she was just kidding around for a reaction. Sorry if you took it seriously, but did you really think it was serious? Did you ever think that we'd never be apart, like an eternal heart-to-heart? (To quote a daft muggle song.) We're worlds apart, Malfoy. Universes. More the fool you, if you did.
"Anyway, again, I'm sorry I knocked you out. Unintentional, but pleasing, considering your house. This message will self-destruct in a few moments, enough to hope you understand my apology for knocking you out.

"Your sincerely, Harry."

Draco had barely time to register the words as the parchment suddenly caught on fire, and he instinctively dropped it. Realising his error, that his blanket would go up in flames, he moved to pick it up and throw it to the ceramic floor tiles where it would cause less damage, but it wasn't necessary. The Charm Harry had used on the parchment caused the thick paper to burn up but nothing else.

Stunned, Draco wished he could read the parchment again, thinking maybe it was a dream, or he'd misread it, or something. He felt his eyes burning, and he rubbed at them furiously. He was all too ready to brand Harry as arrogant for thinking he'd taken it all seriously, but the truth was that he had taken it seriously. With Rebecca and the vampires and everything… It was all too much. Rubbing his eyes feverishly, Draco felt his throat constrict and couldn't breathe. He'd honestly thought it had meant something to Harry, that the other had actually - as silly as it sounded now - felt something.

Thinking back on things, Draco felt like he had, really, initialized everything. He'd been the one to voice his feelings. The first kiss would have just been the product of raging hormones. He knew as a teenager it was one's first primal urge to hump everything in sight, especially at sixteen like they both were. The second kiss had been instrumental. Harry speaking to him was just his Gryffindor stupidity - preferring to go along with something rather than hurt someone. He'd probably felt forced to at least try and be friends with Draco because of the augurs, but it was a lie. A stupid lie.

Draco stopped rubbing at his eyes as the heavy truth hit him, hitting all of the breathe out of him in a whoosh, and he flopped to his pillow in disgust. Disgust at his own sense of futility that he couldn't do anything. Disgust at his own thoughts and feelings. Disgust that he had… he had started to fall for someone who couldn't honestly give a damn about him, except to occasionally insult him in the corridors.

Disgust at his own weakness.

Draco pulled the blanket over his own head, and, for once, just let the tears fall.

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He visited Rebecca on his own in the morning.

Dropping off into the hall for just time long enough to wrap a few bread rolls in a napkin and avoid the composed glance of Harry from across the room, Draco ignored the mutterings and glances and ran up to the teacher's table. After getting permission from Dumbledore, Draco ran down to the dungeons, where Dumbledore had explained his sister was. Feeling slightly sick as he passed the room where he did invisible fighting on Friday nights, and passing the two advanced Potions dungeons on the next level down, Draco found himself running.

He ran down the stairs to the lowest level of Hogwart's dungeons, using the pain in his side and legs to focus on rather than on his own troubled feelings, and approached the gargoyle at the end of the long corridor. The corridor was full of crawling bugs and insects that Draco chose to ignore.

Stepping back, Draco tapped his wand three times on the protruding beak of the gargoyle, and it sprang backwards to reveal a richly furnished room. Crimson and silver hangings dropped from the ceiling in a criss-cross of rich and thick material, and several beds decorated with crimson blankets were lined up against one wall, while the opposite wall was lined with tables and large comfortable armchairs.

"Uh, hi." Feeling foolish, Draco stood in the doorway holding his parcel of bread while several pale faces watched him expectantly. Rebecca hopped out of her chair at the sound of her brother's voice, and ran over to join him at the doorway. Knowing better than to touch him, she indicated for him to follow her, and walking slowly Draco joined his vampiric sister in one corner. The blonde vampire was holding what looked to be the leg of a cow in one hand, and Draco blanched. Rebecca dropped it to one of the tables by the side before sitting in an armchair opposite Draco.

"This is a surprise," Rebecca said slowly, looking at him with wide silvery eyes that shone with hope and fear all at once.

Draco shrugged. "I needed some space. Besides, Elegeia, you are my sister, despite your grossness."

Rebecca screwed up her nose, and wiped something that looked too much like blood to Draco's taste off her cheek. "I told you when I was three, Draydoo, don't call me Elegeia."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Rebecca," he said, drawing out the syllables exaggeratedly. "Don't you ever mention that name again."

Rebecca stuck her tongue out, knowing how much being called Draydoo enraged her brother. It had been all she'd been able to say when she was little, the closest approximation she could manage to her brother's name. "So… how are you?" Rebecca nodded at the various bruises on his arms, and a nasty looking cut on his left hand. Draco shrugged and unwrapped his bread, munching thoughtfully on one of the rolls before raising his eyebrows.

"I don't know really. I guess I'm feeling a little down," Draco admitted, looking at the floor and twisting some of the bread between his fingers. The crumbs drifted to the thick pile carpet, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Is this to do with that boy?"

Draco's gaze lurched up. "What-- How did --"

Rebecca hid her face behind one hand as she giggled. "Oh please. You two were so sickeningly sweet."

At her words, Draco seemed to slump further. Suddenly concerned, Rebecca slid forwards to stare intently at her brother.

"What has he done? I swear if he's hurt you I'll kill him…" Rebecca snarled. Draco looked a little surprised, but murmured his thanks. "Well," Rebecca amended, remembering her vows, "injure him a little."

"No, no, it's all right," Draco said eventually, chewing reflectively on the bread. "I think I'm just irreversibly screwed up."

Rebecca snorted. "Join the family," she said derisively. Draco arched one eyebrow, looking incredibly sombre and almost as pale as the vampires around him before a rare smile broke on his face and suddenly they both were laughing, laughing hysterically, the only thought of the hilarity of the situation and no thought of the pain that bound them both together, but pulled them apart at the same time. The laughing subsided eventually, and the siblings were looked at curiously by some of the other vampires, but Draco suddenly looked sombre again, sadder and more troubled and impossibly older.

"I've lost it, 'Becca," Draco whispered, the words catching and burning in his throat. "I've lost everything." Forgetting his fears, his repulsion, Draco let Rebecca slide his arms around him and he cried in the arms of his sister, lost in the eternity of his own sorrow and loss.

I know, I know, two years I said this fic was to be continued.

And I...

MEANT IT!

Onward, amigos! Join the continuing D+D fray. :)