Okay, okay, don't kill me. I'm sorry I haven't updated in so long. I've never had such a successful fic, and I felt really pressured to continue, but I couldn't think of anything to follow what I put in the cliffhanger at the end of Chapter 7. Finally I have found something to continue this. P.S., please don't kill me for what I'm about to do to Draco.
Thank you to everyone who reviewed, you have inspired me to continue this fic. I love you all!
St. Brutus's Program for Incurably Homosexual Boys...
by AnonymousBystander
Chapter Eight - Pierced
The door banged open, the rusted hinges only barely keeping hold of the thick steel.
It only took Mr. Devici and the three armed guards that entered the room a few short seconds to analyze the whole situation: two naked gay teens (that could only mean one thing, Devici knew instantly), three oddly-dressed mysterious newcomers, and an air of immense confusion as the rest of the boys dealt with the arrival of the three strange wand-bearers and the entrance of Mr. Devici himself.
It only took Mr. Devici two seconds to order the guards to respond in what he felt was an appropriate, proportional manner.
Fortunately, it took Albus Dumbledore less than that. His wand swished skyward, and an instant later, bullets screamed through the air where Harry, Draco, Dumbledore, and Hermione had been only fractions of a second earlier. The iron hit stone walls in a maelstorm of speed and fury, matched only by the expression on Mr. Divici's face when he saw (or, rather, didn't see) what had happened to the four people who had been inside the room only seconds earlier.
Most overwhelmed of the youth was Mike, whose nerves were already high-strung because of Harry's denial of their obvious chemistry and his newfound rejection after their rather frenzied night. At the sound of the gunfire, he screamed, pulling the blanket over his bare body and pulling himself into a fetal position.
Mr. Devici turned to his guards. "Take him...downstairs..."
-----
Harry's head was swirling, emotions and thoughts and stress and guilt flying around his brain overwhelming him. His state of mind was not helped when he hit the ground hard and fell down onto the hard cold stones, crushing his arm, which he was sure had already been broken by Uncle Vernon.
Despite the nausia in his stomach - from the hard arrival and from the growing guilt he'd been feeling there ever since he woke up that morning - he sat up and looked at Dumbledore, whose expression was very grim. Dumbledore turned his head towards Draco; he was sitting in a chair facing away from Harry, not moving.
"Dra--" he said, but Dumbledore shook his head every so slightly, and Harry stopped.
Without speaking, the headmaster flicked his wand, and Harry was immediately clothed in robes. He was surprised at first - he hadn't remembered that he was naked.
"Drake..." Harry whispered softly. At first, Draco didn't move. Then his torso moved forward, as though he was about to stand up and confront Harry. Harry braced himself.
But Draco didn't stand up. His torso kept moving forward, and he slid sideways off of the chair, hitting the ground with a dull thud, unmoving.
Blood was spreading silently from an open wound in Draco Malfoy's chest.
-----
A/N- I know you're going to kill me for this. Trust me, I love Draco just as much as the next guy. This is necessary for the story, though. I'm sorry.
Thank you to everyone who reviewed, you have inspired me to continue this fic. I love you all!
St. Brutus's Program for Incurably Homosexual Boys...
by AnonymousBystander
Chapter Eight - Pierced
The door banged open, the rusted hinges only barely keeping hold of the thick steel.
It only took Mr. Devici and the three armed guards that entered the room a few short seconds to analyze the whole situation: two naked gay teens (that could only mean one thing, Devici knew instantly), three oddly-dressed mysterious newcomers, and an air of immense confusion as the rest of the boys dealt with the arrival of the three strange wand-bearers and the entrance of Mr. Devici himself.
It only took Mr. Devici two seconds to order the guards to respond in what he felt was an appropriate, proportional manner.
Fortunately, it took Albus Dumbledore less than that. His wand swished skyward, and an instant later, bullets screamed through the air where Harry, Draco, Dumbledore, and Hermione had been only fractions of a second earlier. The iron hit stone walls in a maelstorm of speed and fury, matched only by the expression on Mr. Divici's face when he saw (or, rather, didn't see) what had happened to the four people who had been inside the room only seconds earlier.
Most overwhelmed of the youth was Mike, whose nerves were already high-strung because of Harry's denial of their obvious chemistry and his newfound rejection after their rather frenzied night. At the sound of the gunfire, he screamed, pulling the blanket over his bare body and pulling himself into a fetal position.
Mr. Devici turned to his guards. "Take him...downstairs..."
-----
Harry's head was swirling, emotions and thoughts and stress and guilt flying around his brain overwhelming him. His state of mind was not helped when he hit the ground hard and fell down onto the hard cold stones, crushing his arm, which he was sure had already been broken by Uncle Vernon.
Despite the nausia in his stomach - from the hard arrival and from the growing guilt he'd been feeling there ever since he woke up that morning - he sat up and looked at Dumbledore, whose expression was very grim. Dumbledore turned his head towards Draco; he was sitting in a chair facing away from Harry, not moving.
"Dra--" he said, but Dumbledore shook his head every so slightly, and Harry stopped.
Without speaking, the headmaster flicked his wand, and Harry was immediately clothed in robes. He was surprised at first - he hadn't remembered that he was naked.
"Drake..." Harry whispered softly. At first, Draco didn't move. Then his torso moved forward, as though he was about to stand up and confront Harry. Harry braced himself.
But Draco didn't stand up. His torso kept moving forward, and he slid sideways off of the chair, hitting the ground with a dull thud, unmoving.
Blood was spreading silently from an open wound in Draco Malfoy's chest.
-----
A/N- I know you're going to kill me for this. Trust me, I love Draco just as much as the next guy. This is necessary for the story, though. I'm sorry.