Well, my computer is still overly messed, so I'm back on the laptop. At
least we've managed to get it into safe mode...
Parselmouth - He is, but the wards on his armbands won't allow him to
change into his other form-- just like the wards he crafted for the
other three.
Emmy - *laughs* I've seen the Punk-smiles-cutely-at-the-bookworm thing
in real life. It was actually very amusing. Especially since he was
blushing brightly. I think it was his girlfriend or something...
crystal56 - Like I told Parselmouth-- yeap, he did. I really, really,
_really_ want to put it in, but the chapters write themselves...
besides, I have this _really_ amusing scene in my head for when he does
end up showing what he looks like to everyone.
Early grave, Optional? *Smirks* Ah, I'm glad I do my work well...
Mister Potter and his Associates do not, nor ever will, belong to the
Itch.
---
Blackened Sunrise
Chapter Twenty-Three: Separating
The Itch
---
Harry flipped through the air, irritably rubbing as his solar plexus as
he attempted to regain his breath. He'd forgotten that Draco had a tail
in this form-- and that it was tipped by a fairly jagged blade. His
robes had been slashed open by the edge of the blade, having caught the
flat of it in his Solar Plexus when Malfoy had lashed out with it when
he attacked.
Mournfully, Harry wished for his own tail. While _his_ didn't have a
jagged blade on the end, it did have four or five bony protrusions that
could pulverize rock. But the wards on his arms prevented him from
reaching his alter-form, and bringing the fight to a new level.
He was somewhat lost in the blood-lust of the battle, having forgotten
the fact that he was fighting in the middle of a Halloween Ball,
surrounded by students. A Weapon was forged to do battle, and the lust
for the fight powered all Living Weapons. Normally, the lust could be
controlled.
Normally, the Weapons were only considered to be on "stand by", which
generally meant that they were waiting to be used by their masters. But
Harry was his own master, as was Draco, even if the draconic teenager
was likely to do whatever Harry told him to. The instructor had that
power-- as Daemen liked to demonstrate.
As they both controlled their own actions, they had infinitely more
power than the majority of the other Weapons that existed, few as they
were. Once the battle had begun, neither wished to stop. They were wild
beasts, savage in the most primal way.
Harry lunged again, snapping his wrists to slide wafer-thin blades out
from his sleeves, and in between his fingers not unlike claws.
Draco whirled into action, the razor-sharp spikes extending from
shoulders providing both protection and a weapon. He was a cyclone of
knives as he withdrew the Stallion Blades from their sheaths on his
forearms. Battle sung in their blood as they clashed yet again.
So strong was the lust for battle, that neither noticed the doors
slamming open, Professor Snape and Dumbledore flying into the room at
the insistence of some ghost or another, that vanished as soon as she
had arrived. In the place where she stood and watched, Virginia
smirked. They really should have let her participate.
"What the bloody hell!?" roared Snape, expecting Potter and the...
the... whatever it was to break apart. No such luck, as the Boy Who
Lived and his opponent continued in their brutal, violent fight. Blood
splattered from both combatants here and there. It was a beautiful
dance of lethal intentions.
They were like two wolves, battling for dominance.
"Stupefy!" Dumbledore had withdrawn his wand, aiming it at the pair
that fought so nastily. Nothing.
He almost hit himself for forgetting the protection spells added to the
wards on Harry. It would prevent any such lower-level spells from
effecting him. They'd thought it would help to keep him around; knowing
that he was protected from Death eaters and the like. It hadn't worked.
But there was another spell woven into the wards, written in Merlin's
Runes. And he activated that spell with but a thought, and nod to
Severus.
The two combatants were violently flung apart, both snarling angrily
that their battle had been interrupted. Albus had placed that spell in
there to protect the students from Harry. It had been designed to
specifically force the young Potter away from whatever-- or
_whom_ever-- he was maiming, so that everyone would be safe.
They were afraid, after Harry's rather... violent... reaction to
Snape's apprehending of him, that he'd take his angers out on the
student body. Thankfully, it hadn't seemed to have happened. At least,
until this strange creature had arrived.
There was a second part of the spell-- it kept the other member of the
fight from moving around to much. It had been designed to allow to
check wounds and the like. Now, it was used to see what this strange
creature, or being, looked like.
Wildly glowing silver irises, spikes instead of hair that covered the
scalp-- the spines laying flat against his skull in an expression of
anger-- wicked fangs, both longer and sharper than any known vampire's
bared in a furious snarl. His hands were curled around two of the four
Stallion Blades in his possession, but they could still see the claws
that the five fingers of each hand tapered into. From each shoulder
blade extended several inches of razor-bladed 'quills' for a lack of a
better word. A thickly muscled tail tipped with a blade lashed in
irritation.
And over all, his skin was a shimmering rainbow of solid diamond
scales.
He was, surprisingly, wearing clothing. And not only clothing-- but
_muggle_ clothing. A pair of over-sized black denim shorts that cut off
just below the knees to bare a pair of black runners with blood red
laces. Those looking were unsure if that was just their normal color,
or the color of the blood he'd spilled. He wore a red muscle-shirt,
that allowed for the blades to extend out of his shoulders.
Not to mention all the weapons he carried on him.
After inspecting the creature-- and deciding to hold it in the dungeons
until such a time as they could identify it-- the professors turned to
Potter, and were stunned.
He was snarling just as violently, emerald fire flaring behind
iridescent green eyes. Chin-length, tangled and dirty ebon hair lashed
around his face as he jerked spasmodically in his attempt to get free
of his bonds. Still slipped between his fingers were the six blades
he'd used to attack Draco.
The slash that crossed his robe had caused it to fall open, revealing
the length of chain that all male Gryffindor Sixth Years knew about,
but hardly anyone else did, and the leather collar it was bound to. Not
to mention the ebon t-shirt that bore a number of it's own slashes and
rips, and the pair of black jeans that encased his legs. Thankfully,
those who weren't occupied staring at the draconic Draco couldn't see
Potter's own collection of weapons.
A very smug Ginny Weasley crept up behind Harry once the teachers
turned back to discuss what to do with Dragon-Draco.
"Next time," she hissed to the slowly calming Weapon, "You invite
_me_!"
---
Draco skulked around in the "cell" he'd been given. They'd attempted to
remove his weapons. Attempted being the key word, seeing as he still
had access to the power, and the Voice-- he really needed to give the
stupid thing a name-- didn't want him to lose the weapons that it had
been focusing power through for the past number of days.
He'd managed to transport the weapons into his trunk into his room.
He was surprised no one had noticed his disappearance yet.
He was surprised he wasn't out yet.
He was going to kill Harry for suggesting this prank.
_Why_ had he listened to Harry? Oh, right, he didn't want to play
clean-up-Harry's-rep. That would be bad for _his_ reputation!
"We still have no idea what it is," he heard McGongall muse from
outside his door. A bit annoyed, he shouted back.
"I'M MALE!!"
There were a few moments of silence from the other side of the door,
then hushed whispering as they figured out he'd been able to hear them.
Rolling his eyes, he turned his contemplation inwards.
So... Voice... what're they saying?
They'd talking about turning you over to the Ministry, the inanely
cheerful voice that sounded way to much like Psycho-Harry for his
comfort, replied. Snape want's to dissect you for potions material.
But... I'm an endangered species! whined Draco.
One person counts as a species?
Oh hush up.
No, you hush up!
You!
Nah-nah, can't make me!
Wanna bet?
Feh you can try!
---
End Chapter
Dray is losing his mind.... AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
least we've managed to get it into safe mode...
Parselmouth - He is, but the wards on his armbands won't allow him to
change into his other form-- just like the wards he crafted for the
other three.
Emmy - *laughs* I've seen the Punk-smiles-cutely-at-the-bookworm thing
in real life. It was actually very amusing. Especially since he was
blushing brightly. I think it was his girlfriend or something...
crystal56 - Like I told Parselmouth-- yeap, he did. I really, really,
_really_ want to put it in, but the chapters write themselves...
besides, I have this _really_ amusing scene in my head for when he does
end up showing what he looks like to everyone.
Early grave, Optional? *Smirks* Ah, I'm glad I do my work well...
Mister Potter and his Associates do not, nor ever will, belong to the
Itch.
---
Blackened Sunrise
Chapter Twenty-Three: Separating
The Itch
---
Harry flipped through the air, irritably rubbing as his solar plexus as
he attempted to regain his breath. He'd forgotten that Draco had a tail
in this form-- and that it was tipped by a fairly jagged blade. His
robes had been slashed open by the edge of the blade, having caught the
flat of it in his Solar Plexus when Malfoy had lashed out with it when
he attacked.
Mournfully, Harry wished for his own tail. While _his_ didn't have a
jagged blade on the end, it did have four or five bony protrusions that
could pulverize rock. But the wards on his arms prevented him from
reaching his alter-form, and bringing the fight to a new level.
He was somewhat lost in the blood-lust of the battle, having forgotten
the fact that he was fighting in the middle of a Halloween Ball,
surrounded by students. A Weapon was forged to do battle, and the lust
for the fight powered all Living Weapons. Normally, the lust could be
controlled.
Normally, the Weapons were only considered to be on "stand by", which
generally meant that they were waiting to be used by their masters. But
Harry was his own master, as was Draco, even if the draconic teenager
was likely to do whatever Harry told him to. The instructor had that
power-- as Daemen liked to demonstrate.
As they both controlled their own actions, they had infinitely more
power than the majority of the other Weapons that existed, few as they
were. Once the battle had begun, neither wished to stop. They were wild
beasts, savage in the most primal way.
Harry lunged again, snapping his wrists to slide wafer-thin blades out
from his sleeves, and in between his fingers not unlike claws.
Draco whirled into action, the razor-sharp spikes extending from
shoulders providing both protection and a weapon. He was a cyclone of
knives as he withdrew the Stallion Blades from their sheaths on his
forearms. Battle sung in their blood as they clashed yet again.
So strong was the lust for battle, that neither noticed the doors
slamming open, Professor Snape and Dumbledore flying into the room at
the insistence of some ghost or another, that vanished as soon as she
had arrived. In the place where she stood and watched, Virginia
smirked. They really should have let her participate.
"What the bloody hell!?" roared Snape, expecting Potter and the...
the... whatever it was to break apart. No such luck, as the Boy Who
Lived and his opponent continued in their brutal, violent fight. Blood
splattered from both combatants here and there. It was a beautiful
dance of lethal intentions.
They were like two wolves, battling for dominance.
"Stupefy!" Dumbledore had withdrawn his wand, aiming it at the pair
that fought so nastily. Nothing.
He almost hit himself for forgetting the protection spells added to the
wards on Harry. It would prevent any such lower-level spells from
effecting him. They'd thought it would help to keep him around; knowing
that he was protected from Death eaters and the like. It hadn't worked.
But there was another spell woven into the wards, written in Merlin's
Runes. And he activated that spell with but a thought, and nod to
Severus.
The two combatants were violently flung apart, both snarling angrily
that their battle had been interrupted. Albus had placed that spell in
there to protect the students from Harry. It had been designed to
specifically force the young Potter away from whatever-- or
_whom_ever-- he was maiming, so that everyone would be safe.
They were afraid, after Harry's rather... violent... reaction to
Snape's apprehending of him, that he'd take his angers out on the
student body. Thankfully, it hadn't seemed to have happened. At least,
until this strange creature had arrived.
There was a second part of the spell-- it kept the other member of the
fight from moving around to much. It had been designed to allow to
check wounds and the like. Now, it was used to see what this strange
creature, or being, looked like.
Wildly glowing silver irises, spikes instead of hair that covered the
scalp-- the spines laying flat against his skull in an expression of
anger-- wicked fangs, both longer and sharper than any known vampire's
bared in a furious snarl. His hands were curled around two of the four
Stallion Blades in his possession, but they could still see the claws
that the five fingers of each hand tapered into. From each shoulder
blade extended several inches of razor-bladed 'quills' for a lack of a
better word. A thickly muscled tail tipped with a blade lashed in
irritation.
And over all, his skin was a shimmering rainbow of solid diamond
scales.
He was, surprisingly, wearing clothing. And not only clothing-- but
_muggle_ clothing. A pair of over-sized black denim shorts that cut off
just below the knees to bare a pair of black runners with blood red
laces. Those looking were unsure if that was just their normal color,
or the color of the blood he'd spilled. He wore a red muscle-shirt,
that allowed for the blades to extend out of his shoulders.
Not to mention all the weapons he carried on him.
After inspecting the creature-- and deciding to hold it in the dungeons
until such a time as they could identify it-- the professors turned to
Potter, and were stunned.
He was snarling just as violently, emerald fire flaring behind
iridescent green eyes. Chin-length, tangled and dirty ebon hair lashed
around his face as he jerked spasmodically in his attempt to get free
of his bonds. Still slipped between his fingers were the six blades
he'd used to attack Draco.
The slash that crossed his robe had caused it to fall open, revealing
the length of chain that all male Gryffindor Sixth Years knew about,
but hardly anyone else did, and the leather collar it was bound to. Not
to mention the ebon t-shirt that bore a number of it's own slashes and
rips, and the pair of black jeans that encased his legs. Thankfully,
those who weren't occupied staring at the draconic Draco couldn't see
Potter's own collection of weapons.
A very smug Ginny Weasley crept up behind Harry once the teachers
turned back to discuss what to do with Dragon-Draco.
"Next time," she hissed to the slowly calming Weapon, "You invite
_me_!"
---
Draco skulked around in the "cell" he'd been given. They'd attempted to
remove his weapons. Attempted being the key word, seeing as he still
had access to the power, and the Voice-- he really needed to give the
stupid thing a name-- didn't want him to lose the weapons that it had
been focusing power through for the past number of days.
He'd managed to transport the weapons into his trunk into his room.
He was surprised no one had noticed his disappearance yet.
He was surprised he wasn't out yet.
He was going to kill Harry for suggesting this prank.
_Why_ had he listened to Harry? Oh, right, he didn't want to play
clean-up-Harry's-rep. That would be bad for _his_ reputation!
"We still have no idea what it is," he heard McGongall muse from
outside his door. A bit annoyed, he shouted back.
"I'M MALE!!"
There were a few moments of silence from the other side of the door,
then hushed whispering as they figured out he'd been able to hear them.
Rolling his eyes, he turned his contemplation inwards.
So... Voice... what're they saying?
They'd talking about turning you over to the Ministry, the inanely
cheerful voice that sounded way to much like Psycho-Harry for his
comfort, replied. Snape want's to dissect you for potions material.
But... I'm an endangered species! whined Draco.
One person counts as a species?
Oh hush up.
No, you hush up!
You!
Nah-nah, can't make me!
Wanna bet?
Feh you can try!
---
End Chapter
Dray is losing his mind.... AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!