Summary: When long ago, Salazar created the Slytherin house and put himself on its throne, he never thought that, one day, the Snake could evolve and the crawling lord mute into the sky sovereign, the one and only Dragon. Draco/Harry, Lucius/Severus, Ron/Hermione
Warning: mentions of incestuous and vampiric relations.
Chapter 11: Both ally and foe.
Monday, November the 2nd (at 1 in the morning)
"He's there," Draco said.
Lucius let his sight wander to the face of his son. His eyes were tired and still slightly afraid, but he now seemed better and to be recovering quickly. It would nonetheless be better if he rested for the day. The problem were his classes. Medical magic and History hadn't any importance, but Charms could be useful. Although what with Draco's new knowledge, Lucius wasn't sure he needed any teaching in any subject. But who was he talking about? He so inquired.
Draco buried deeper his face into his father's shoulder, "Grand-father."
Lucius frowned, "Draco, your grand-fathers died long ago."
"Not them. The other. Dracken's grand-father."
Oh. Who was his grand-father then, that he could frighten his baby son to this point? Maybe it was time for some clear answers, such as who had given birth to Dracken Malfoi? Whose name could have been so secret that the mother was hidden through generations of wizards?
" Draco," he asked softly, "who was your mother ?"
"Merian Malfoi. The first of the name."
Lucius gaped and forgot to close his mouth. Hadn't Merian Malfoi been a man? He had to, he was, just as Draco had repeated, the first of the name. It surely couldn't have been a woman! But then...
"And who was your ... father?" He had difficulties articulating the word, so out of place in his mouth. He felt like a cuckold in front of his wife.
"Salazar."
His breath stopped and he choked. "Salazar? As in Salazar Slytherin?"
Draco finally seemed to notice his father's loosing of countenance. His face came out of the rustled expensive shirt and looked at the man with a childish expression. Lucius remembered it: Draco had always wore it when knowing something others ignored. In these cases, the child had also constantly been eager to reveal his secret, after having pressed the others to begging... or had revealed it nonetheless after losing patience because they didn't.
"The one and only. And do you know who my grand-father is?"
"No, I don't know." Lucius didn't want to play child games right now, but he also didn't want to disappoint his son with paying no interest. "Would you tell me?"
"Hum. As you're kind, I'll consider telling you."
Kind? He calls me kind? Really... No-one even dared!
"My grand-father is..." Draco grinned to his ears, "Godric Gryffindor!"
This time it was the syncope. He needed to breathe. Inspire, expire, inspire, expire... Draco smiled even more at his father's expression and chuckled in his hands, truing to block the sound.
"So," finally calmed Lucius, "Gryffindor is your grand-father, probably by Merian, I suppose, and Slytherin is your father. That's great." He wasn't totally certain yet about his real feelings on the subject. Of course, he was proud of his son, but there was this tinge of sadness at not being mentioned in Draco's genitors that didn't want to go away.
"Do not worry." The boy smiled tenderly, as a child reassuring his mother as how beautiful she is. "He's my father and mentor. You're my dad."
Lucius wasn't sure he could acknowledge this mark of kindness at his attention. He had never liked such scenes. He wouldn't change. But he appreciated nonetheless. Brushing past the sentence so that his son wouldn't see his embarrassment and growing happiness, he unbuttoned his shirt's left cuff and rolled it up, presenting his wrist to Draco. "You need to feed."
The young one's face darkened. "Surely you remember what happened last time we exchanged blood?"
Lucius sighed and slightly averted the ice blue eyes. "I do, but it won't come to that this time."
"You think so?" Draco's look resembled too much Dumbledore's for Lucius to feel well at its sight.
"You know," went on Draco, "you know it will. It is inevitable. Such as in your bond with Severus, I mustn't feed from anyone else than my own mate. Should you feed me that I wouldn't be able to prevent sex and you don't want that."
"And," murmured Lucius, "if I was willing to let go of pride the time you restore your health?"
Draco let some seconds of silence pass then yanked himself out of the mattress and overlapped his father's body. He lowered his face to the man's, letting only millimetres between their noses and looked in his eyes. "Lucius, I haven't fed since ten months ago. When I do it, I will want power, I will want blood and I will want sex to a point you can't imagine. I would kill you."
Draco sat up straight again and closed his eyes, his mouth opened in blissfulness. "Just now, what you're doing... Aahh..." He couldn't keep himself from moaning. "So willing under me..." He drove his growing nails in his father's shoulders, creating red plots on his skin that tinted the shirt. "Do you know how handsome you are Lucius? Of course you do... Well, I tell you nonetheless. I want you. With Severus. In my bed. I want to fuck him with you watching, I want you to hear him crying and begging under my hands; then I want you to fuck him while I do you." The nails had reached their full size and sharpness, clawed the cloth and alabaster skin.
Lucius's manhood had come to life with the sensations. He had forgotten all of their previous conversation. Draco's force was radiating in the small room; Draco whose body weighed on his and claws pierced his skin, drawing blood. His own hands explored Draco's tights and he wanted nothing more than to spread his legs, to be the instrument, to be the prey and to feed from sex, blood and power. His own developing fangs were answering his burning desire, ready to bit into flesh.
"But you would regret it, dad. So we'll stop here," suddenly interrupted Draco, getting back on the mattress.
Cold air replaced Draco's warmth and Lucius felt all passion quit him. These quick successive changes were unnerving, but he couldn't complain for Draco was right: if one of them initiated a blood transfer, it would inevitably result in Lucius's death.
"You should go back to the Manor," counselled Draco, "I'm fine now. Thank you."
A simple nod of Lucius sufficed to show his total respect of the boy... no, of the man in front of him. Had it been him in Draco's place, he wouldn't have been able to resist the attraction and hunger. That only proved a great deal of self-control and physical capacities. They exited the painting that instantly disappeared. Both Malfoys smiled. The Weasley brothers had waited for them and felt asleep, one nestled in the other's arms. Draco observed them a time then turned back to his father.
"Take Severus with you and take care of him. He can help the rest. You did a good job of reconciling him with Dumbledore. He may need it when time comes."
"What time?" inquired Lucius somewhat apprehensively, even knowing the answer.
"War. This year won't finish in peace. Voldemort declared us outcasts and his first task will be to bring down our lands. I want you to stay at the Manor. Quit it on no pretext. I'll contact you twice a day for news. I'll send you Bill tomorrow, he'll live with you from now on. If you go round the grounds, take him with you. None of you is to go out alone. Last thing: dispose of Narcissa's body. Use the method you want but make it disappear."
Lucius made to go and search for Severus but was called back by his son who said, "If there's anything, and I mean anything strange or out of place, you let the lands down and you order a complete evacuation. Take the inhabitants to the old North undergrounds, call me mentally and stay there with them. Most important: never look back."
The man knew why his son repeated these ancient saying. If war was to come over the Malfoy estate, the worse would then be Lucius's mental state at the destruction of his grounds. Would he be able to remain hidden with his people should his lands be sacked and burned down by death-eaters? Would he be able to let go of hatred and anger? To control his vampire instinct to kill the invaders? He hesitated... and knew he wouldn't.
Draco awoke the brothers and sent them back to Cast's room. He then headed for his favourite resting spot in order to be fit to face Gryffindor.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
"Godric Gryffindor?" repeated Harry, incredulous. Their mouths wouldn't close or their eyes take back their normal size.
Taking pity, the man passed fingers through the desk, exposing his ghostly nature. "What you see is only my spirit," he explained. The three newcomers then sat when Dumbledore waved a hand invitingly. Gryffindor remained standing, as he couldn't sit.
"Sir Gryffindor just appeared when you entered," narrated Dumbledore after offering everyone tea and sweet drops.
"Godric, please," corrected the mentioned, "we had enough problems in my time with names and houses. There is no need to inflict them on more people."
All four present nodded. "I notice with pleasure the sorting hat survived the millennium," smiled the founder, indicating and moving forward to said hat.
"Survived I did," exclaimed the thing, "how do you fare my lord?"
"As all spirits do. So you came across Salazar's heir. Why didn't you warned them, or us?" The tone was calm, with a tint of reproach in it.
"By four was I created. To all four shall I remain loyal."
Gryffindor smiled earnestly, "I remark Helga's influence is still strong in you."
"Just as ever, my lord."
Then the founder turned aside from the hat and back to the mortals. "Please excuse me for the interruption. You must wonder why I came back?"
"Indeed we do, even if we have some... hints about what brings you to the mortal world," admitted the headmaster.
"What I am about to tell you, you can only ignore, for it was hidden through the centuries by every possessor of this secret... A thousand years ago, a muggle gave birth to my last child: Merian, and died in the process. The second the child breathed, the centaurs predicted his own son would bring destruction upon Hogwarts."
"Destruction?" repeated Harry. The young man was astonished at all that happened. To be faced with a founder was a thing. To be faced with a founder whom you were said to be the heir was another. Besides, the man was impressive, physically and orally, and charismatic.
"Yes," acknowledged Gryffindor in a fatherly way, "it was said he would have the will and power to destroy Hogwarts. Moreover, and most important, he would have the opportunity. I asked advice from Helga and Rowena, Salazar wasn't present at the time, and we decided not to kill the child. Still, we had to protect the school, and cast on Merian a spell that took away all his powers."
He paused, observing the reactions. Dumbledore was listening attentively as usual, the three others were dumfounded.
"The error we made was in the spell itself. To deprive him of magic, the simpler and most effective way was to cut every link the boy had with me. We did. For years, it proved to be a good method. Merian knew about his lineage but was educated among the muggles and thought he was a squib. We never contradicted this. It was our second error. If we had told him, maybe we could have avoided what followed: when Merian was twelve years old, Salazar came back to Hogwarts."
Dumbledore shuddered at the cunning and intelligence the very name carried. He also began to understand where Gryffindor was taking them, the link between the past and the present.
"As soon as he saw Merian, Salazar took a liking for the boy, and adopted him. He gave him a new name, a new home and a new instruction. Then, at eighteen, Merian disappeared for a year... and returned with a child. We were so obsessed by the matter of the child's powers that we never bothered to ask who was the mother... Only in death did I make the connection and discovered the truth. The particularly caring and shielding attitude Merian had for his son, the time this damn Snake spent with the boy..."
"Merian had been the mother..." finished Dumbledore, his eyes denouncing his own astonishment at the very possibility.
"Exactly. Even now, I have no idea what could have changed in Merian's organism to allow such a pregnancy, but it appears the spell was strong enough to divert his male faculties and allow a development of his female's ones. Merian bore the child, made pregnant by Salazar..."
"A heir of both lineages? Indeed his powers would be incommensurable," commented Remus with impressed features.
"It is difficult for us the dead to observe the living and I don't know much of what followed for the family, but very recently, Helga, Rowena and I felt what could only be the power of the actual heir. He didn't possessed that much inheritance from me but Salazar's signature was so strong it could only be the result of a reincarnation. Does the name Dracken Malfoi talk to you?"
Dumbledore smiled and hold back a chuckle. "Decidedly the boy never cease to amaze me. The heir you are talking about can only be one person: Draco Malfoy."
"So..." interrupted Harry, not truly realising he was speaking aloud, "Draco wants to destroy Hogwarts? That's why he's here? But then why did he..."
"Harry," softly cut in the headmaster, "we don't know yet. Do not worry about such things when you are not sure. Why don't you go and rest? Tomorrow we'll know more."
With only a nod, the boy stood and went away. The two ex-Gryffindors soon followed, understanding they were in the way. Rather, Remus had understood and strongly hinted it to Sirius, finally drawing the man outside.
"Well. I didn't imagined my heir like he is," pointed out Gryffindor.
"Yet you like him," smiled Dumbledore.
"Yet I like him," echoed the founder, "if you narrated the last events, as it appears much took place recently?"
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Harry had gone back to Gryffindor tower. He couldn't sleep. Too many happenings in his mind prevented him from calming down. Losing hope, he rummaged trough his belongings for Marauders' Map and Invisibility Cloak then exited the Common Room for the corridors.
He wasn't aware of where his feet guided him. Why would he care? He had the map if he get lost, and besides, he was too tired to think straight. He had envisaged going again to Sirius, but his godfather ought to be sleeping or discussing with Moony, and Merlin knows they deserved some calm time together.
As he arrived near the Slytherin wing, wind sent the Cape's end flying and he froze. What if he was attacked? He'd already been. Dumbledore had enough on his mind lately, what if Harry managed to get killed on the top of everything else? He turned his steps back but a figure blocked the corridor.
It was all covered by a black robe, the way death-eaters dress. But it wasn't a servant of Voldemort. The thing didn't move and Harry cleared a part of the distance.
"Are you a dark creature?"
There was no answer.
"Are you going to eat me?" Harry asked again.
Still, no answer.
"Are you a sadistic cannibal bastard?" he finally lost his composure.
The shadow silently crossed the distance that separated them and bend over him. "Tell me Harry, do you think I am a sadistic cannibal bastard?"
Harry blushed and remembered when the shadow had saved him from the beast. Of course he hadn't mean it this way, he only wanted to move the thing into talking to him. "No," he whispered.
"Would you like me to be a sadistic cannibal bastard?" went on the shadow.
Harry gave the same answer.
"Then am I a sadistic cannibal bastard?"
This time, Harry smiled at the game, "Maybe?"
Wind suddenly blew into his eyes and he closed them for protection. When he opened them again, Shadow had disappeared. Had he vexed it? He seriously hoped not, it wasn't his intention. He opened the Map and looked for the thing but it was nowhere. This wasn't a surprise: if Seamus's tracers couldn't detect it, how could the Map? What Harry noticed, however, was a single plot on the top of the Astronomy Tower: Draco Malfoy. Grinning, he prepared to join him.
Harry passed the trap to the top floor of the Tower but there still was no-one. However, a dormer window was opened, letting cold air and some rain drops enter the abandoned room. Nor hesitating a second, he traversed it and set foot on the roof.
There, under the dark sky, superbly glorified by moonlight, lost in a gloomy melancholy, was sitting Draco. The young man clenched the tip of a pipe between his lips and some clouds of smoke lightened the darkness around him. So, Draco's resting on the Astronomy Tower's roof had given birth to this sex-symbol rumor… Amusing. Harry coughed to catch Draco's attention and advanced toward him.
"I didn't know you smoke," he remarked.
"I don't," was the plain answer.
Harry frowned. "But… What're you doing then?"
"Ah that…"
Since it seemed a subject the Slytherin didn't want to tackle, Harry dropped it. If they were to have a nice conversation on this night, better not begin it by angering him.
"I met Shadow tonight," tried again the Gryffindor when the blonde boy appeared as not willing to take the initiative.
"Truly?" That seemed to amuse Draco. "What did he said?"
"Well, not much. He merely turned back my questions against me."
At last, Draco reacted. He took out the pipe from his mouth and tapped it against the roof's rock. The aroma of expensive tobacco slowly evaporated. He still wasn't willing to talk. Harry bent toward him. "I'm aware it's you. Thank you for saving me the other night."
The Slytherin smirked. "The pleasure is all mine. How did you discover it?"
"I'm not sure. I just knew it was you. You're the only one… to make me feel this way."
Draco slithered on Harry, pressed against the boy till he dominated the body with his own. "This way?" he repeated sensually.
Harry was caught between the cold roof and the hot dragon. Draco's eyes were plunged inside his and he felt as ever, "Safe." Draco redressed him and pressed him against his own body. Then it was silence again.
"Draco," broke Harry. Draco moaned, inviting him to go on. "May I ask you questions?"
"You're a curious one, aren't you?"
Harry blushed but also nodded and grinned. "That's a yes?" When Draco approved, he quickly thought of all he had yet to discover and that he would do tonight, if Draco's mood remained this conciliating through all of the interrogatory. "What happened to your mother?"
"Lucius killed her."
"What? But… Just… like that? He killed her? But why?" he stammered.
"Because she had given us to Voldemort. She betrayed her husband, put the Clan into danger."
Harry could understand the reason, even if he didn't approve of the resolution itself. Plus, wouldn't he have reacted this very way if it had been him? No… He would have been broken. He sincerely hoped never would Draco betray him. Still, how could he be sure of anything? Yes, Draco had supposedly a will of associating with the Order of the Phoenix, but what if it all was a cover? What if he had been a death-eater from the beginning? No, it was impossible. They would have discovered hints at the very least. And it would also mean Snape had betrayed Dumbledore and that, for all the hatred Harry felt for the potion master, he also believed this friendship with the headmaster ran deep. No, Snape wouldn't betray Dumbledore, not to the point of putting Hogwarts in danger. "Draco… Do you project to destroy the school?" He inquired on the spur of the moment.
Draco frowned then chuckled. "Harry, predictions are made to be changed."
The Gryffindor hid his face in the Slytherin's robes. "You knew?"
"Of course. I sensed him arrive. It is true that… a thousand years ago, I desired nothing more than to bring Hogwarts down, but the prediction and their intervention kept me from that. Time has passed and I changed. Do not worry over this, Harry, the school is safe from me."
"Hum… I'm sorry I doubted. Well… Well…" He searched for an other subject to evade from this unsure one. "Why do you wear gloves?"
"Why do you think I wear gloves?" counter-attacked Draco tit for tat. When Harry stared at him with enormous eyes, he chuckled again. "When I went for Pritchard, I used some magic I wasn't prepared for. My hands are recovering from it."
"Oh…" Culpability and grief stroke him anew. "I'm sorry. So… You're an animagus?" He deviated the subject again.
"Yes, I am. But you also are, aren't you Harry?"
Harry gaped. "How do you…"
"Harry, Severus must have narrated it to you: I already possessed my powers last year. I used them mostly to spy on you. I discovered many things. Many very interesting things…" Draco was fixing him, a predatory gleam in the eyes. Surprisingly, Harry wasn't angered by the confession, he didn't even care, he felt… special, cared for, appreciated like he never was and it really was pleasant. Then he remembered another of his questions that never was truly answered: "Really? Is that why you gave up quidditch? You realised you would never be able to beat me in the air?"
Draco laughed. "Don't be presumptuous, young boy. I took this decision for the inverse reason. If I was to… mount a broom for competition, and against you… I wouldn't trust myself with your life." The end had been a whisper.
"But I trust you with my life," retorted the boy.
"You may, Harry, but you mustn't. You don't know what I am. If you were to show a single weakness while on the air… Or what if I failed to resist the instinct? My animagus form reigns on the skies, it doesn't approve of anyone daring come against him. It would take the control and kill you."
"Draco… my animagus is capable of fighting a dragon," insisted Harry, willing to reason the blonde so that he would play seeker this last year in the upcoming match.
"A common one, yes, Harry, I know you are. But you forget I come from both lineages of Slytherin and Gryffindor. I am not a common dragon. I am the worse race it exists. Please Harry don't require more, I simply can't, not now. When we'll be out of school, I promise we'll play as much as you want but not now, when I don't even master my beast part."
The ice blue orbs were begging for comprehension, for acceptation. And Harry nodded. Such regard was out of place in Draco's eyes. What sort of dragon could he be for the Slytherin to be afraid of himself? Had he fought Voldemort with this form? Snape had said death-eaters were running away out of fear. It ought to have been an horrible fight for killers and assassins to cover in terror. Harry let the problem in suspense and buried in Draco's shoulder again. The Gryffindor surprised himself by purring. No wonder: he was warm in Draco's arms.
"Draco," he called one more time. He liked saying his name, it was like another acknowledgement of their relation and appeased his mind. "I didn't thank you properly for saving Sirius. That's the most wonderful present I ever received. I deeply appreciate, from the bottom of my heart." Saying it, Harry had dressed up and approached Draco's lips with his. But the Slytherin stopped him.
"Harry, I'm sorry but…" At the young man's horrified green eyes, Draco immediately made up for his mistake. "No, I don't mean I don't like you, on the contrary!"
Malfoy kept tightly Harry against him, preventing him for fleeing and only went on when he was sure the Gryffindor was calmed. "I have a secret. I can't reveal it to you, I'm sorry. As soon as I'll be able to, I'll do, that's a promise. But now, I simply can't. This secret… I can't touch you Harry, not without harming you. Well, we can touch, I rather mean we can't do everything even remotely sexual. When everything will be finished and Voldemort dead, I promise. Then, I'll trust myself with your life, but not before."
"I don't understand…" Harry was lost. Draco liked him a lot, he had said so. What could obstruct their way to happiness? Besides, "Draco, if Voldemort dies, I'm not sure I'll…" But he couldn't finished as Draco's fingers touched his lips.
"If you think I'll let you die in this war, my sweet Harry, then you know me badly. Slytherins protect the people they love with all they have. And I love you."
Three simple words that vanished every hesitation in his mind. He smiled in pure ecstasy and it was his turn to murmur them. There, safe, happy, confident, he felt asleep.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Harry was awoken by the aching of his right arm, caused by a strong grip. He scanned the place he was in, for he couldn't be on the roof anymore. He so discovered a bed under him, his body dressed in pyjamas that weren't his own, and Draco next to him. The blonde only wore pants and the eternal gloves. Surprisingly, Harry didn't feel anymore this need to engage in physical love with Draco. He was fine with being next to the Slytherin, to discuss and fully appreciate their growing relationship for the time being. Sex could wait. If they fought together in this war, Harry was confident they'd win and then, as had said Draco, they'd have all the time.
That was the Slytherin's hand that clutched Harry's forearm so tightly. The Gryffindor smiled tenderly: Draco could be possessive even in sleep... But the happiness soon disappeared from his face, for Draco's one was all but peaceful in this early morning. On the contrary, his lips firmly pursed, his teeth cringing, anxiety dug his forehead in deep lines. He was surely having a nightmare.
For the first time, Harry could observe Draco's body when tensed : muscles bulged, and the young man wondered how he could have missed it in the bathroom a month ago. Gryffindors had always thought the Slytherin prince was a worm, unable to defend himself physically and that was why he was followed everywhere by his two goons Crabbe and Goyle. The theory proved to be wrong. What with such a physic, the thrashing Ron had given Draco continually a year ago felt out of place. A body like this one couldn't be crafted in twelve months. Was it part of the power Draco had mysteriously acquired? Well… Not so mysteriously anymore: the Slytherin had recently got back memories and powers of a previous life, or so Harry had comprehended from Gryffindor's tells. What he still wondered was how the founders' curse could have stopped so brutally? The gap between past Draco and present Draco was large. Could an awakening transmit so much or had Draco done something to get his full powers back?
Day began to filter in the Slytherin dormitory and Harry noted the blonde's dorm-mates were all still asleep. It ought to be early. As Draco's nightmare didn't stop and the blonde didn't release Harry's painful arm, the Gryffindor gently shook the strong body. It had the expected effect: Draco slowly calmed and opened his eyes. They looked tired and sadly resigned.
"You had a nightmare," both explained and inquired Harry.
"If only." The riddled answer was all Harry got before Draco changed the subject. "I need to go and chat with Gryffindor."
"Then I go with you," he declared in a tone that let no other possibility than to agree.
"If you so desire, my dear."
Harry got up and dressed, turned toward the door so that Draco wouldn't see too much of him. As he put on the shirt, he recalled how childish it was: only the Slytherin could have slipped him in night dressing; by so he'd seen his ex-arch nemesis in very, very, very few attire. Had something happened then? No, Draco wasn't so low as to take advantage of a sleeper. Besides, Harry recalled, it was Draco that had, the day before, insisted that they couldn't have a physical relationship as long as the war hadn't end.
Still, Harry went on dressing looking at the dorm's door. It wasn't shame, no… more modesty. Rather that's what he wanted to think. He considered his own body nice to look at; not perfect but pleasant to the eye nonetheless. His team-mates had made many similar remarks, about this physical attraction girls felt for him. When they'd discovered he was gay, they had gone on, but about boys. Some had even openly flirted with him. Of course, it hadn't gone out of the Gryffindor house. But Draco's… It was different. Draco's body was perfection made man. It was a body well educated and cared for. No wonder Seamus's comparison of Draco to a god in bed. If the lower part had the same consistency than the upper, Harry could prepare for a night in Seventh Heaven. For now, he only appreciated the warmth of Draco's eyes on his back.
When Harry was finished and turned back, Draco was frowning. "What happened to your arm?" the blonde inquired.
"My arm? Oh… This?" He lifted his left sleeve up, to where Wormtail had cut him in fourth year. "Kindness of Voldemort two years ago. I'm surprised your father didn't narrated the scene to you." he vainly tried to block sarcasm away from his voice. "But I forgot. He did. You brawled about it soon after."
Memories of this fateful night came back in flows, with all the pain it had engendered.
"In fact, he didn't." Draco's words astounded Harry, both by the content and the calm tone. "I heard it from Pansy and didn't want to look like a 'put aside'. I had other problems in mind at that time."
"Truly? I never imagined… What bothered you? If I'm not being indiscreet, I mean."
Harry's good mood was back. Lucius Malfoy hadn't recounted in full detail the reincarnation of his master to his son? Or rather, what could have so preoccupied Draco that he didn't drink his father's every word?
"Let's say I just discovered the reason why my father joined the dark side."
"There's a reason?! Hum… It isn't that you hate muggles?"
Draco laughed and finally got up, went to a wardrobe and removed some clothes. "We don't hate muggles, Harry! Well… Lucius does but he has some bad memories and good reasons to. We rather don't approve of the unconscious mixing between muggles and wizards."
"That's racism," growled the Gryffindor as he averted to look at Draco changing pants.
"No, that's prevention. I lived through a thousand years, Harry. I learned some lessons."
But Harry didn't listen anymore. His eyes were glued to Draco's belly, on a red scar he hadn't notice before. "What happened?" It was his time to ask.
Draco softly smiled, "Kindness of Voldemort, ten months ago."
"When you saved Charlie?"
"When I saved Atus, yes."
"Why do you call him Atus?"
"Because under the name Atus Cast he was admitted in the Snake's Clan and put under my responsibility. Besides, you'd better get used to thinking of him as your professor Cast, it'd save Bill some problems."
By the end of the explanation, Draco was dressed and ready to go. They quickly stopped by the bathroom then went away.
"Why Bill? Another secret?"
"Yes, but this one isn't mine. If you really want to know, you may ask them, but I suggest you let them alone for now, the time they come to term with their own desires."
In the corridor, Harry remembered Draco hadn't revealed why his father had joined the dark side. He longed to ask again but the Slytherin's bothered look prevented him from voicing it out.
"Jillywigs," immediately pronounced Draco as they faced the Gargoyle which opened.
"How do you know the password," questioned the Gryffindor, already knowing the response.
"Spying always pays," grinned the Slytherin, "Hi, Grand-Pops!"
Harry heard with horror and a tint of amusement the so familiar way Draco called Gryffindor. His little smile vanished automatically from his lips when the founder turned back toward them. Vaguely, he concentrated on his Occlumency lessons, attempting to block away his funny thoughts from the perceptive minds of Gryffindor and Dumbledore. Hopefully, the storm passed without breaking.
"Dracken," saluted the spirit.
"Draco, please. Dracken died long ago," rectified the Slytherin, "So, why this sudden visit? I didn't hope anymore."
"I came to warn them against the danger you represented."
"Me?!" exclaimed Malfoy theatrically, "A danger? How can I be of any danger? I have no power, remember."
Harry burst out laughing, earning half reproaching glances from both old men.
"You know what, my dear grand-father? If you hadn't tried to keep my father and me away from magic, I would never have made this elaborate plan to reincarnate. Pity isn't it? Like Oedipus. That is why transcendental magic isn't accessible to common mortals and magic to muggles. Even only knowing about the future will create portals and distortions. Centaurs have forgot that a long time ago.
But don't worry. For now, I only want to crush the usurper. After that, well, only Future will tell."
Sir Godric sighed and Dumbledore still observed without a word.
"I suppose this assurance will suffice for now."
"Of course it will! After all, didn't you entrust Dumbledore with a certain formula of a certain poison in case I go berserk?"
Gryffindor and the Headmaster exchanged looks. "This boy still has no respect for his elders," stated the founder.
"Well! As much as I like this conversation, I have a favour to ask of you," admitted Draco.
"A favour? From me?"
"Yes. You see… I am a person spoiled rotten by Life."
Some eyebrows rose and Draco went on, "As a child, I was pampered by my mother, then, as a teenager, I was spoiled by my father and godfather. In my fifth year, when all risked to disappear with my father sent to Azkaban, I discovered the way to gain some powers and save him from the prison. This year, as I should have to choose between Dumbledore and Voldemort, I gathered my full powers back and escaped the dilemma. Finally, I only missed a companion, and Slap! I find Harry! Isn't Life wonderful with me?! I love Life! Why would people want to die in battle or other stupidities? I don't want to die. I want to live! With people next to me. I hate loneliness. I want the perfect heir to inherit the perfect lands in the perfect world. Got it? That's why you'll give me what I want."
Godric was watching Draco with dubious and slightly sad eyes, "You're mad."
"I'm your grand-son."
"How would you take it to term?"
"With the help of the one that saw me coming to life."
"He resurrected too?"
"No. He's a ghost. The Bloody Baron, they all named him."
Sighing, Gryffindor gave up, "Fine, you'll have it. Now, I have to depart."
"Already?" exclaimed Harry, shocked that Gryffindor quitted them so early.
"My only purpose was to warn you against him. Moreover, the Night of the Dead is coming to an end. I risk to remain stuck in your time if I stay any longer."
He turned toward Draco, a tinge of helplessness in the eyes as they exchanged silent words. "Salazar would have found a way to escape it."
"That's why I will," answered Draco with a sad smile.
"If I could, I would…"
"I know, but you can't. The gate is a thousand years too long. Thank you nonetheless."
Finally, the founder faced his heir, "For a long time did I observe you developing your powers. Don't hesitate to use them, even on him." He indicated Draco. "And if something bad happens, never forget he masters Time. I was happy meeting you."
"So was I, Sir," Harry replied with emotion.
Then it was finished.
"Draco… What were you talking about right now?" Harry asked when the founder had disappeared.
The Slytherin slowly pivoted his head till his ice blue eyes encountered green ones. "Nothing you should worry about Harry."
For the Gryffindor, it was one time too much. "No!" He cried, "Stop telling me not to worry!"
The eruption caused Draco to freeze and Dumbledore to suppress a smile.
"Everyone is telling me not to worry! Sirius! Hermione! Moony! Dumbledore! You! But I worry! And I want to know what's going on! And I want you to tell me now!"
Never in their six mutual years had Draco seen Harry so angry, and toward himself no less! Of course they'd commonly fought and sent words to each other, but these reproachful eyes, ready to share tears of fury, he'd never witnessed. Harry's hair had swelled as moved by wind, creating a mane on his head.
"I'm sorry Harry, I didn't mean to thrust you aside."
Draco's tone was pleading and sincere and Harry couldn't resist. "Fine. But tell me what's bothering you! And you too!" He pointed Dumbledore with accusation. "You think me stupid?" he cursed, "You thought I wouldn't remark your little game? For six years I fought Voldemort, I have a right to know what's going on!"
"Harry," stopped Draco, "Dumbledore isn't aware of what's happening. He suspects but don't know for sure. Sit."
When the three of them were sitting, Draco went on, "Severus told you I was declared an outcast?"
They nodded and he sighed. "For you to fully understand, I'll begin by narrating you some old history. Surely you heard a lot about Malfoy Manor? An immense house on an immense property, immersed in dark magic… But that's only part of the truth: the face we decided to show to the world in order to hide the rest. In reality, the Malfoy lands are more extended that what the Ministry knows of. As centuries passed, it was forgotten the Neutral Grounds were the Malfoy's. What I want to say is: these lands are impregnated with magic, they're alive. A thousand years ago, a pact was established between Merian Malfoi and the realm: he respected it and in exchange, it'd protect him. Many beings established their houses on them, humans or animals, dark or white. The pact was always followed. The ruler is currently my father, Lucius. And yesterday, Voldemort sent me a letter in which he declared war to the lands."
"War?" exclaimed Harry, "Draco! You helped many people, we'd be more than happy to aid you back."
The Slytherin smiled tenderly. "I deeply appreciate your generosity but that's exactly what I want you not to do. Ah… How can I explain… Dumbledore, you have the proof just under your eyes: there should exist classes of Ancient Magic, even if this fucking Ministry considers it dark."
Harry was patiently waiting, observing Dumbledore take the insult. The old wizard didn't seem to mind this much, since the major part of it was directed toward the Ministry.
"Harry," began the headmaster, "You remember when I described to you how your mother had saved you? Her love for you had morphed into a powerful magical protection. In the lands' case, it's a little different but the process is the same. Draco, please correct me if I'm wrong."
"That's it. Play the ignorant," the Slytherin declared, giving a brief ironic smile. "You're right, ok?! When the same families live on the same grounds for a millennium, it create bonds. If you also consider the existent pact, it becomes a very powerful weapon. When Voldemort declared war, he awoke centuries of dead spirits whose bodies were buried in the lands. If any stranger set foot on the Malfoy's grounds, he'll be eaten alive."
"Oh… So, what is the problem?"
"It's… Firstly, at the first signs of battle, aurors will rush up, hoping to gain proof against my family. All they'll discover is their death. So I have to tell them now what's happening and I really don't want to. The secret of the lands was kept for a long time and I'd prefer it to remain this way. Secondly, Voldemort has many followers, more than the Order of the Phoenix thinks. They're all strong users of dark magic and they'll try to sack the lands whatever deaths they should suffer in the spirits' hands. As a ruler and… well, as a ruler, my father won't be able to resist the need to fight the invader. He'll get killed."
"Wait," interrupted Harry, "there's a thing I don't understand. Who will exactly defend the lands?"
"Hum. There'll be the inhabitants, the spirits, many beasts and my father."
"And you expect him to stay away from the fight?" Harry had encountered this feeling too many times: people that hoped he would stay away from harm, hiding in his room while they got killed. He found it unbearable.
"Well… No. I only fear he'll be in the middle of it when the death-eaters find a way to call off the pact with the lands. That's why in some minutes, I'll send Bill to second Lucius. Atus is gonna hate me. Don't you?"
Draco suddenly looked at the door, which Harry noticed had opened, letting place to the Weasley brothers and Snape.
"I don't, because I understand, even if I don't approve. War is war," reassured Charlie.
"Thank you. Why are you here?"
"Severus searched for you. He told us about the declaration of war and we wanted to see by ourselves if you were all right." There was a certain accent on the last word that didn't go unnoticed by Dumbledore.
"I am, thank you." The special intonation of Draco's words had the same interest for the headmaster. What had taken place in the Castle that he'd missed? Moreover, the past day, he'd felt Lucius Malfoy disappear from Hogwarts but it hadn't been by walk or fireplace, more like a… the entering in an unplotable place. Then the man had reappeared late in the night and finally gone by floo-powder. Where had he hidden during the hours he was absent?
"Bill," commanded Draco, "you should prepare. The sooner you depart, the better. Severus, I suppose you have a message from Dad, about a certain body that should be where he wasn't?"
"How do you know?"
"Thanks to the wonderful classes of Mrs Trelawney, I became a medium. I saw it in the breakfast I couldn't eat this morning. I'm joking. If a certain body wants to play the invisible man, then a certain person will have to play 'the man who had to be killed twice'."
When Harry flaunted a lost face, Dumbledore murmured at his intention the name, "Narcissa."
"All is fine then. Atus and Severus, I believe you have classes to teach? Harry, you have classes to go to. As for me, I have an alliance to form. I'll come back for the night. Have a good day."
He kissed Harry on the cheek and disappeared in a poof of black smoke.
"Professor," Harry beckoned his mentor, escaping the questions about the kiss by diverting their minds, "Did Draco just apparated?"
"You can't apparate in Hogwarts," recalled the headmaster. "It seems like we have our Shadow, don't we, Harry? Pray, tell me Severus, what did you gave him to generate such a transformation?"
The potion master reacted badly to the question. "I gave him NOTHING, got it? Lucius already interrogated me about this and he got the very same answer for it is the sole! Now I have a class to teach!"
Snape had already the hand on the door's knob when he noticed… "Wipe away this little smile from your lips!" He accused Dumbledore, "What are you thinking this time?"
"Me? I was only imagining the interrogation." Dumbledore's smile remained.
"Don't." Charlie came to the Slytherin head's rescue. "Lucius accepts no-one meddling with his son. Not even Severus."
Indeed, Dumbledore's grin faded. "Oh… Then I excuse for thinking wrongly."
Severus growled something unintelligible and got out. He was certain the headmaster had seen the fear in his eyes. He hadn't been able to prevent himself from remembering when Charlie had told this verity about Lucius. The vampire wasn't brutal, he hadn't hurt his lover. Still, the panic had been present in Snape's veins: terror that he'd indeed have done something wrong without realising. When Lucius had asked about it, Severus hadn't known what scared him most: that he could have endangered Draco or the reaction Lucius would have if it was the case. In conclusion, after seeing Draco about it, he discovered he had not.
To know that he feared Lucius more than he did Voldemort was part of the reason he'd been able to remain a spy despite the dark lord's tortures and intimidation. There now was a person he dreaded even more: the Slytherin Prince. It was a anxiety that ran deep and never left him.
"One other thing I'd like to understand," stated Harry when he was alone with the headmaster. He also wondered why Dumbledore didn't mind his office being invaded regularly.
"Ah, Harry, those are old stories. Part of it I do ignore myself. If a family learnt to keep secrets from me, it surely is the Malfoys. If you really want to know about Severus, I may just say he experienced in his own time the uncertainties you discover now."
"And also, why can Bill enter the lands when the aurors can't?"
"I suppose Mr Weasley worked alongside the Malfoy family long enough to earn the lands' respect, but that remains a supposition…"
- - - - - - - - - - -
When he got back from his excursion, Draco directly went to the Slytherin dormitories. Indeed, night and curfew had just fallen over Hogwarts.
He'd first gone to Bihar, a mountainous region in the West of Rumania. There, he'd met with a natural and hidden tribe of dragons. After some arranging, he'd led them towards England and Malfoy Manor. They'd arrived in the evening (if you make the calculus, that's approximately 250km/h. Respectable for dragons). Then he'd had supper in the company of his father and Bill and had finally departed for the school at ten o'clock.
Passing Salazar's statue, he perceived a movement near the block of rock. It was Atus, sitting on the floor, his back leaned against Dracken's absent painting's emplacement.
"What is a so attractive young man doing at ten in a deserted corridor?"
"Waiting for his fairy godmother?"
Draco hummed, made a slight sign with his hand and Charlie felt backwards. Dumbfounded, he looked around him and discovered the he'd entered the reappeared painting.
"Take a seat. I suggest the bed, these chairs are uncomfortable, I hurt my back on them for centuries."
His moral not lightening up, Atus did as he was told. Draco took place near him, crossed his legs, rested his head against the bed post and waited.
"Draco, I have a problem… I've been caught in a plot and each time I try to escape, I only succeed into tangling myself more in the knot."
Draco awaited the going on of his friend but the man seemed to continue his discussion solely in his own head.
"We're brothers…" Atus finally confessed with deception and surrender.
"No." The fact was stated simply, plain in all its evidence glory, and all the more dreadful to listen to. "Charlie Weasley was his brother. You're Atus Cast, a very good friend of his. A sexy good friend of his," Draco added for good measure.
"It may appear simply for both of you, because you see me differently, my body being different; yet my memories and mind haven't changed and when I look at him, I still see my little brother. Plus, I can't take polyjuice potion all through my life! What will happen when I get my real appearance back?"
"In fact, this relation wouldn't bother you if he also changed body?"
"Wha… No! I forbid you! My mother would never survive the blow, such an insult to Nature laws. She apparently accepted Bill's gayness but only because he freaked over my false death. She would die by seeing the union of two of her sons. Everybody would!"
"I wouldn't."
"But you aren't normal!"
"Thank you…" Draco faked sulking.
"I didn't mean it this way, I'm sorry…"
"And what would you say of… Charlie is dead and really dead. Atus Cast exits definitely?"
"As an eternal potion? That changes nothing of the problem. Many people know who I truly am and among them, my family."
"Memories can be erased…"
"No!… Draco… I only wanted to hear I was mad and you could stop my desires for my own brother. Why do you complicate it so much?"
"Because you please me and I want to help you. That passes by you being happy, which passes by finding a way to love your brother in all impunity of law and your own morality."
"Draco, I'm attracted to my brother!" Charlie yelled once more, hoping this time, the actual atrocity of his situation would make it to the blonde's brain.
But as a response, Malfoy rummaged in his pocket and took out a pipe.
"You smoke?" exclaimed Atus.
"I wouldn't say it this way, but to everyone it seems like it, so yes," admitted politically the blonde, sparing himself a long explanation.
When smoke escaped from the pipe, Draco finally acknowledged the remark. "Do you want to see him happy? Happy like he never was?"
"Of course! He deserves it!" automatically answered the oldest Weasley.
"Then make love to him."
Charlie sighed in desperation, crashing his head between his hands. "You're all mad…"
"Some years ago," narrated Draco, gaining his friend's calm back, "I was attracted to my father. No better than your own situation, is it? I wanted him to love and take me. One day, at the beginning of the Summer Holidays…"
Draco paused and took some puffs at his pipe. "I cracked and went to his office. I told him everything. He reacted like frozen Hell: I was locked up in my room for a month. Each day, he came to me and asked if I had changed my mind. Each day, he got a negative answer. Badly for him, this particular summer had taken place the come back of Voldemort in the physical world and Severus was constantly occupied elsewhere. He couldn't go to the man for food and his hunger and yearning grew each day worse…"
Flash-Backs: Summer of the fourth yearLucius put his glass down on the pedestal table of his office, his hand on a crystal bottle, hesitating to poor himself another drink. As a vampire, he usually was immunised against the dangers of alcohol but the absence of blood's supply currently left him fragile. Not that he would ever admit it, even to his busy lover. Still, it could do him good to draw his mind in vapours: keep him from thinking about his punished son.
The boy had now been locked in his room for almost a month but he couldn't be allowed out till he hadn't succeeded in controlling his desire for sex. For this scene of so said physical attraction was nothing more than the preliminaries of the transformation.
Thinking of that, Lucius was bewildered that they only took place in Draco's fourteen year. In his own case, he'd resented the need at nine. It then had took him three full years to morph into a vampire. Now, Draco sensed near him the presence of a vampire with more power than he had and, as one of vampiric blood, the boy felt obligated to demonstrate his submissiveness. Like a cycle. In thirty years, it would be Draco's turn to discover his son making passes at his intention. A funny inheritance of the family…
Lucius looked at the grand-father clock, it was time for his daily visit to Draco.
When he entered the room, he first thought Draco had escaped, because of the open window and the absence of the boy; but then, he heard a faint noise of water coming from the bathroom. Too soft to be the shower. He penetrated the place and discovered Draco with his head and hands immersed in water that filled the washbasin. The boy didn't move. When Lucius began to panic at his son's lack of reactions, Draco drug his face out of the water and the vampire's nostrils were suddenly filled with an odour of blood. He caught his son's arm and turned him brutally. The smaller hands were covered in wounds.
"What did you do?" he asked in a menacing tone, hiding his cold fear with harshness.
"Nothing of importance." Draco angrily got his hands back. "I demolished a mirror, that's all. And you may go away, I didn't change my mind."
But Lucius didn't listen to his son's annoyed talk. His brain was rotating in his head as the room's smell excited him. He flinched on his legs. Noticing his father's distress, Draco affected to get alarmed and took him to lie on his bed.
"No, Draco, stop. I must go," Lucius weakly fought.
"Father, you're ill!" Naturally, he knew his senior wasn't truly ill; after all, hadn't he studied vampires during the month he was provided? He laid his hand, the still bleeding one, of course, on his father's forehead, as to take his temperature. Red drops mysteriously found their way to Lucius's lips and the man's last resistance melted. He moaned his appreciation of the precious liquid. Draco sat over his father's abdomen and rammed his butt on the bulging in the pants. Lucius got mad with pleasure and desire. Eyes shined and fangs grew.
Friday, October, 16th
Draco flied in the cold and watering wind, through the Forbidden Forest. Graham's father had come and took his son out of the castle during the afternoon. They'd try to join him without success: they'd already quit their house. Hopefully, he soon caught sign of the death-eaters and Voldemort. Pritchard was in a shadowed corner, magically tied to a tree. Draco was just in time.
'It may be time for our little surprise, don't you agree Sevy? Of course, you don't know of this part. I'm not 'destroying the maybe only way to kill Voldemort', as you said, for this potion you created never would have been able to destroy him. It wasn't finished seventeen years ago and it would never be on time for the war. Besides, if I kill the Snake, it will be by my own hands. Or Harry's. This potion I completed alone is an elaborate concoction to fully destroy a spell that was placed on me a thousand years ago. My old me, our powers will soon be back, and Godric will be rolling in his grave!'
He drank in one gulp and almost immediately grasped his stomach. The pain was unbearable and he cried out. Death-eaters heard the noise, saw him and came forward, Voldemort first.
"If it isn't our little Malfoy. Got hurt, boy? Could you be begging for acceptation, now?"
Draco gritted his teeth, "Go to Hell!" He'd only finished that particularly strong and hurtful convulsions of his organs made him cough blood. Death-eaters laughed.
'How do they dare make fun of me?! I want to kill!' "To kill them all!"
In dolour, he felt his body growing up, his muscles splitting, his bones breaking. Suddenly, he could heard two dozens of lungs' pair breathing and as many hearts beating. He could see afraid eyes and perspiration cascading from the wizards' forehead and most important, he could sense fear, no… terror no less! In the middle of these underlings, the only one he noticed, the dark lord whose eyes illuminated at the sight. The sole adversary that counted. The sole that could fight him. He growled his hatred and in front of him, the wizard changed form.
This nightWhile on the roof, Draco observed a form disappearing in the forest. This thing wouldn't come back. It had failed in all his attempts to kill a student. The only thing it had succeeded in was denouncing Severus. Not that it changed much: the professor would have been showed up by his associating with the Clan. Voldemort wouldn't be happy. The dark lord would make a show of what it truly meant to torture and exterminate. Probably on the thing itself.
Draco inhaled profoundly. The weather was fine, cold but not too much, just the temperature he liked it. It may be the time to discover if he still possessed the particular power Salazar had bequeathed him. So, he took out from his pocket, his pipe and tobacco. Visions could be dangerous, but they also could be of great help. Destiny would decide.