Well hello there, I hope you all enjoy this fic!
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, but I did come up with the story line.
Warning: Male-male slash and male pregnancy so if you're not into this stuff, please don't read!
Note: I would love love love love love reviews so plz review if you have any suggestions or comments… try to be nice!
ON WITH THE STORY
xxxMacxxx
Chapter One Strange Beginnings
Harry wasn't surprised that Hermione and Ron had not tried to find him after the prefect's meeting on the train. He could have tried to convince himself that the meeting wasn't over, if he hadn't seen Malfoy walk past his compartment about fifteen minutes ago. He could have gone looking for them, or he could have found Dean, Seamus and Neville, or Ginny, but he hadn't done any of those things. He wasn't in the mood to talk, anyway. He was sitting by himself, and thinking.
He hadn't wanted to talk to anyone since the night at the ministry. No one but Sirius, that is. I hardly got to know him. Harry sighed, and he felt a single tear trickle down his cheek.
Harry heard the compartment door slide open, and looked in the reflection of the window to see who it was; if it wasn't Ron or Hermione, he'd shout at them to leave him alone. Actually he wasn't sure that he wouldn't shout at Ron or Hermione anyway. He couldn't see anything. He whipped his head around; nothing.
Harry sighed again, and got up to slide the door closed again. Strange, he thought, returning to his seat to stare out the window. But for some reason, the compartment didn't seem as empty and peaceful as it was before. He contemplated this, briefly, then decided that the door sliding open on its own had freaked him out and that he was making a big deal out of nothing. Nothing, because there was nothing there. Just him and his thoughts. But now he was beginning to wonder if being alone with his thoughts was such a great idea after all.
He stared at the uniform green fields and grey sky out the window. It was so depressing. Just like his thoughts.
Harry realised, while staring out of the window, that since Sirius' death, he felt somewhat empty. There was a hole, in him, that he supposed had been filled by Sirius, but now that he was gone…
Suddenly Harry felt something like a light breeze on the side of his face and neck. He shivered, but whether it was with fear or pleasure, he couldn't tell. Then he felt something lift some of the hair from the side of his face and play with it. He jumped out of his seat, staring around the compartment, but he couldn't see anything. Magical breeze? He wondered, Someone's idea of a joke, maybe?
"Harry," came a very faint whisper.
"Who's there?" Harry said, shakily.
"Harry," the voice whispered against his ear.
"Sirius?" he questioned.
"No," the voice whispered, almost sadly, as the compartment door slid open admitting a very loud Hermione and Ron. Harry imagined that the voice left before Ron slid the door closed again. For some reason, he felt slightly disappointed, and the hole in him felt bigger than ever.
"Harry, mate! Why are you sitting here alone?" Ron asked him as he sat down opposite Harry. Hermione sat next to Ron and took his hand in hers.
"Because I wanted to, I guess. What took you two so long? I saw Malfoy walk past about half an hour ago so the meeting must have ended a while ago." Not that Harry minded that they weren't there, he was just in the mood to see his friends squirm with guilt. And squirm they did.
"Ahhh, well, we had the first patrol, you see, and then we… got a bit distracted… look, Harry, we're sorry, it's just…"
"Relax, Hermione, I don't care. I'm glad you two have finally got it together, anyway." Harry reassured her. Ron seemed comfortable with this, but Hermione wasn't satisfied.
"Are you sure, Harry? I mean, we really shouldn't have gone off like that, it's just… well, it will be harder to have alone time once school starts." She said.
"Yeah, it's fine, I needed some alone time too." Except somehow I wasn't as alone as I thought.At this thought, he glanced around the compartment, as if expecting to see a fourth person hiding in a corner, watching him. His gaze lingered on the corner nearest the door, under the rack on the wall. He couldn't see anything, but he just felt drawn to that spot. Unknowingly, he got off the seat and moved slowly towards the corner.
Hermione and Ron glanced at each other, confused, and Ron opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione grabbed his arm and shook her head.
This went unnoticed by Harry, who was just reaching his arm out to see if there was anything there, when the trolley lady came around and opened the door. Harry let his arm drop, and imagined he felt some cloth in the space he was about to investigate. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind and bought some pumpkin pasties before sitting down opposite Ron and Hermione once more.
As they began to eat, Harry noticed that his friends were staring at him. He realised the strangeness of the scene they had just witnessed, and decided to explain himself. He didn't feel like being alone anymore, but with their blossoming relationship, he was sure that isolation, however subtle, would be unavoidable.
"Did you two notice anything when you came in? Did you hear anything?" He asked.
Ron and Hermione shook their heads silently.
"Hmmm. It's just…" Harry explained the breeze, the voice and the hair thing, trying to make sense of it.
Surprisingly, it was Ron who came up with the most likely answer, and almost immediately, too.
"You don't think it could have been someone with an invisibility cloak, do you? I mean, you might not be the only one, Harry." Ron said, after almost a minute's silence.
"Yeah, you could be right, Ron." Harry said, glancing once more at the corner, but he felt like they were alone now. Slipped out with the trolley lady, did you? He wondered.
Hermione beamed at Ron, clearly agreeing with his logic.
The rest of the train ride passed with games of exploding snap, and recounting summer holiday stories. Ron and Hermione, of course, told Harry how they got together, but Harry didn't have anything interesting to say as he had passed the entire holidays mourning for Sirius and doing practically nothing else. He had even neglected his chores, for which he was punished most severely by the Dursleys, but he didn't care that they locked him in his room. He hadn't been in the mood to leave it anyway. After a while, though, he had become restless and had started doing exercises every day to let off some of his anger. As a result, he was looking in better shape than ever.
The train was soon pulling into the station; Harry, Ron and Hermione, having just changed into their robes, shoved their other clothes into their trunks and hauled them out of the train.
"Firs' years, over here!" came Hagrid's shout. "All righ', Harry, Ron, Hermione?" Hagrid asked them as they passed. Harry smiled, Ron and Hermione said "Yes thanks, Hagrid, see you at the feast!"
They climbed into a carriage and it set off at once. As they rounded the corner and Hogwarts Castle came into view, Harry's heart leapt. He was home. He may still be depressed about Sirius' death, but at least he was back home. He'd be able to distract himself with Quidditch and homework. He would be spending a lot of time on Quidditch this year, as captain of the Gryffindor team. He smiled; he had hardly been surprised when he got Quidditch Captain, but that didn't stop him from being happy about it.
Once they were seated in the Great Hall ready for the sorting, Harry gazed around. There seemed to be a bit of a commotion at the Slytherin table.
"Trust Malfoy to cause a disturbance on the first night back," Harry muttered, noticing that his comment lacked its usual venom. He wondered why, but Ron didn't seem to notice. Ron simply went into a long rant about Malfoy, which Harry didn't listen to, but continued instead to stare at the blonde Slytherin, who, for some reason, had decided not to sit with his usual cronies. His trademark smirk was also missing. He was talking quietly to Blaise Zabini. Harry almost fainted from shock when he thought he saw a faint but sincere smile grace the blonde's lips. He was immediately struck by the huge improvement it made to the boy's pale face.
Ron's rant continued under his breath all through the sorting, and only ended when the food appeared. He then proceeded to shovel food into himself, but he kept glaring at Malfoy, indicating that the rant was still going on inside his head.
Once the last traces of food had vanished from the table, Dumbledore gave his usual start-of-the-year speech, during which Harry found his attention wandering. He again began to gaze at Malfoy, wondering what the difference was. He gave up his thoughts, however, when he noticed people rising from their tables.
Ron and Hermione turned to him to ask if he was going to the tower, but he spotted Professor McGonagall beckoning him, so he told them he'd catch up.
"We can wait, Harry, it's no problem." Ron said.
"No, we can't! We have to lead the first years!" Hermione responded, rolling her eyes at Harry.
"Oh, right. That," said Ron, sounding bored. "First year Gryffindors! This way to the dormitories!" He bellowed, dragging a startled Hermione away.
Harry distinctly heard him mutter to her: "The sooner we get these midgets up to the tower, the sooner we can relax." Harry shook his head and smiled; some people never change, he thought fondly. Then he noticed Malfoy looking at him as he walked out of the Hall. Some people do. The thought came to him suddenly, and he was shocked to realise that it was true. Somehow, Malfoy had changed. He could tell that much without even speaking to him: it was in the way he talked to Blaise, and his choice of seat at the feast.
Harry approached Professor McGonagall with caution, he wondered if he could have possibly done anything wrong this early in the year.
"Harry, I just wanted to wish you good luck with the Quidditch season this year. It will be starting earlier than usual, so I expect you, as Gryffindor Captain, to start early training, and you'll need to have trials soon as well; you have to replace the members you lost at the end of last year. I would dearly like to see the Quidditch Cup in my office again, not to mention the look on Professor Snape's face when we win it." She chuckled as she said this last bit, clapping Harry firmly on the shoulder before turning briskly and leaving.
Harry looked after her for a moment, still processing her words; he was feeling a bit dumb tonight, something was on his mind. Or more accurately, someone. That voice on the train was still bugging him. He was sure he'd never heard that voice before, but at the same time, it sounded oddly familiar. He reflected on the possible identities of the person while he made his way back to the common room.
Harry's musings were interrupted when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He jumped, and turned around, only to be staring down the deserted corridor. There was no one there.
"Who are you?" Harry asked. He was slightly nervous, but at the same time he felt that the mysterious stranger posed no threat to him. He felt safe, but he wanted to know who it was all the same.
"You know my name, and you know my face, but you do not know who I am." It whispered, cryptically.
Harry pondered this, and tried to put a face to the voice, but none would come into mind. "Why are you following me?" He asked, hoping to hear the voice again.
There was no reply. Instead, Harry saw a hand coming towards him out of thin air. It was pale and delicate, with long fingers. Harry closed his eyes and shivered when it touched his face, but smiled blissfully when the hand stroked his cheek. At the time he did not think about what was happening, he just focused on the blissful touch of the stranger's delicate fingers. But if he had looked back, he would have described it as right. It just felt right.
Harry gasped when the fingers brushed across his lips, lingering. He felt breath on his ear and heard a whisper.
"Goodnight, my love," it said, before pulling away. Having heard the voice so close, Harry was sure it was a male voice. The familiarity seemed stronger, but oddly, so did the strangeness. It was as if he had heard the voice before, but never in the way that it spoke to him now.
Harry stood there, remembering the feel of the hand on his cheek, the sound of the voice in his ear, the warm breath, and the fingers on his lips. My love, it had whispered. Harry smiled, touching his lips, and said softly: "Goodnight, whoever you are."