Willows - the only life I have is forcing me to do my english diploma exam part A today. I'm not likely to get one for a loooooong while. ^__^
Kennan - To be explained in this chapter. Sorry you got confused!
Steph - Bingo on Sirius' Challenge. Ginny's was that she had assumed
that because she was a pureblood, and had no muggle relatives, she
would be able to have prevented Harry from living that horrid life with
his aunt and uncle; unfortuantely, she didn't take into account all the
facts. As the Girl-Who-Lived she would have been placed on a pedastol
since infanthood, and as a pureblood, would have been raised knowing
all about it. She silence could be taken as snobbery, not being shy or
nervous, and people wouldn't like her.
Maybe I'll write a sidestory about the Girl-Who-Lived.
Kalih - I'm glad you like it so much to deviate from your normal
pattern of Sev/Harry ^___^
Oh, yeah, and I started this RPG because I am absolutely f'in bonkers.
check it out at http://groups.yahoo.com/groups/lupinenight
It's a Harry Potter/FF8 crossover, and read the background info on it
before you judge (you have to click the group's website link)
Don't worry, everyone can get into this group. I've been trying for
weeks to change the category on the Blackened Sunrise Mailing List, so
everyone can get it, but it's not letting me... --.--
Still of the not-owning.
---
Blackened Sunrise
Chapter Thirty-eight : Within
The Itch
---
For a split second, all Draco knew was darkness.
Then pain flared in his ribs, and he felt his body roll over. The
unmistakable ceiling of his own bedroom greeted him. Wha...? How did he
get here? And why was he on the floor? Hazy eyes skittered across the
surfaces in his bedroom until he realized just why exactly, he was on
the floor.
Lucius Malfoy stood over him, scowling darkly, his boot pulling back to
give his son another bone-breaking kick in the chest. Unprepared for
the assault, the Living Weapon let it slam into his body, sending him
flying. Who knew his father was that strong?
Or maybe it was that his body wasn't the same as he remembered it.
He let the Power flow through himself, and was stunned by the
realization-- this was not his body. It hadn't been his body for five
years.
He was eleven again.
Mouth dry, he missed a chance to get revenge on Lucius by catching the
next foot, and actually got to find out the reason for this beating-- a
beating Draco did _not_ recall ever happening to him.
"Damned boy!" spat his father, "You were supposed to be in Slytherin!"
Draco blinked a couple times. He... wasn't in Slytherin? Then perhaps
Ravenclaw, or Gryffindor. If there was one thing he'd learned by
hanging around Harry, it was that not all "Gryffindorks" were quite the
goodie-two-shoes he'd long since thought them to be.
Besides, he knew who Peter Pettigrew was. Is. Whatever.
"A Hufflepuff!" the man roared, and it managed to cover Draco's groan.
How had he managed to get into Hufflepuff?
You can be really loyal, Hak supplied, not-so-helpfully, more than any
Hufflepuff _I've_ ever seen.
Shut up, Hak just... "...shut up"
Lucius' eyes narrowed sharply, catching Draco's half-mumbled response
to the Power's internal, infernal, voice. Seething rage was replaced
with an icy mask, lips tightening into a pale, bloodless line, "What.
Did. You. Just. Say?!"
Draco started, surprised that he'd said it out loud for a moment,
before remembering he'd been developing a habit of answering Hak out
loud just before the Challenge. The Challenge! He was taking the
Challenge! How could he have forgotten.
You were being beat up.
"Shut up," this time he said it louder, just to see what this
Challenge-version of his father would say, or do, to being told what to
do by anyone other than Lord Voldemort.
"I thought so," his foot came back, and Draco figured his ribs would
have been broken when it connected, except for two facts. The first was
mighty impressive-- just because his form looked human, didn't mean his
bones were weak and frail like theirs. His bones were like a dragon's,
only condensed further. And the second was because he'd bounced up and
caught Lucius' foot, unbalancing the older man, and causing him to fall
on his ass.
Draco slowly stood, cracking his neck as he did so, and rolling his
shoulders. No where near the muscle-mass he was used to, in his body,
but it would have to do. He didn't even know if he had his ward around
his ankle. He'd grown so used to it's presence, that he never noticed
it anymore, "You know something...?"
Lucius was already getting to his feet, glaring at his son. When had
Draco gotten so strong? At Christmas, he'd barely been strong enough
not to react to one of Narcissa's slaps, but any hit from Lucius would
normally put the boy down for the next couple of nights. Draco had
taken three hits, and caught one, and was still standing. Still...
grinning? "What the bloody hell...?"
"You're a bloody pillock!" the younger Malfoy cheered brightly, "Or
maybe a pouf! Hey, yeah, that makes more sense! What do you see in a
snake-faced man, any ways, if you're not getting it from him?"
What was Draco babbling about _now_? Snake-faced man? Who could he...
his mind flickered back to something he'd seen before the end of the
time he'd been a Deatheater. Lord Voldemort had been handsome, yes, but
he never aged. Lucius had been a part of his army since he was a sixth
year at Hogwarts. Voldemort had been over thirty by that point, but he
only looked nineteen.
Never once had he seen his master age, in the years he'd worked for
him, but he had seen something truly disturbing. He'd seen the lovely
and powerful Lord Voldemort physically shift into a vengeful wraith,
with the face of a snake. But how had his son known that?
"What? ...how...?"
Draco stared at him in shock, "You're kidding. You're _really_ getting
it from a snake? How 'bout mom? Was she getting it from him too? Ewww,
I could be the son of snake-man!"
Lucius felt himself exasperated about how Draco was ranting about
possibly being Voldemort's son, not unlike a muggle. What were they
_teaching_ there at Hogwarts??
He _knew_ Draco should have gone to Durmstang!
And now Draco was talking to some none existent being apparently named
Hak. Maybe he'd damaged his son's brain in this beating? It made far
too much sense, considering this was the most he'd ever hit his son.
Then again, he rarely saw Draco. Maybe this was how he _always_ was.
That was a scary thought. The Heir to the Malfoy name... stark raving
mad. But... would Severus have sent him a let-- no, wait, Severus was
still pissed off at him because _he_ got Narcissa and the Potions
Master hadn't.
Talk about holding a grudge.
Lucius' mind was running in all directions, and he didn't bother to
stop and think it could be inherited insanity.
Draco suddenly clapping brought his own attention back from where ever
it had wandered, "Hey! That's a good idea, Hak! ...No, I think this is
the only time you've ever had a good idea. Shut up, Hak."
He turned a ruthless grin onto his father, and Lucius reflexively
reached for his wand as he saw his son do something he'd ever seen his
Master do. His eyes began to glow-- silver, not his master's red, but
it was no less creepy-- the glow increase to the point that his son's
eyes held no other color. Pure, unadulterated power flooded the room,
causing Lucius to step back with a gasp at it's strength.
It was literally, visibly, flowing off his son.
The boy's robes began to flap in an unknown wind, slowly twisting,
morphing, changing into muggle clothing-- a white, oriental style shirt
with tails that fluttered around his white-booted ankles, thin legs
clad in white silk slacks. It was an imposing image, his son in pure
white, glowing with power. He looked... ethereal, but not frail. No,
strength was dripping from every angle of the eleven year old's body.
Then those glowing eyes narrowed sharply, and in a fashion he hadn't
seen since the day he saw Tom Riddle change into the true Voldemort,
scales rippled across his son's flesh. His hair hardened, standing in
spines, while four blades extended out from his shoulder blades. His
fingers tapered and became ripping, rendering claws, while a tail
lashed out from behind the boy. He let a husky laugh leave his lips,
hissing between his all-too-long fangs.
"Don't recognize your son?" hissed this strange figure, "Oh, that's too
bad, Daddy-dear. I thought you'd be... proud that your only son was cut
from the same mold at Tom Riddle. Or perhaps not. I like to think I'm a
step above that guy. He _is_ only a First, not a Second like me. Like
Weasley, Potter and Black..."
Black? Who was that? It couldn't possibly be Sirius Black-- he was
holed up in Azkaban, so it had to be someone he'd met at Hogwarts. How
dare the boy compare someone of his heritage with a _Weasley_! And
Potter... James' only son. The Boy-Who-Lived.
Hadn't he taught Draco to hate that boy? But, oh, wait... Draco was in
Hufflepuff. He wouldn't see any need to get angry and mean with Potter
since they weren't in _opposing_ houses. Lucius' own rage returned to
him with the thought of his son in Hufflepuff.
"He was a Slytherin!" snapped the older man, "You are just a lowly
Hufflepuff. How dare you compare yourself to our Master!"
"_Your_ master," the not-quite Draco returned cooly, "And quite
frankly, Slytherin sucks. The common room is fucking cold, you've got
to put charms and wards and locks on _everything_ or someone will make
off with it, and there's that whole mess with they're all _butt-ugly_!
Why would I want to get stuck with them?"
"Draco..." Lucius snarled, bringing his wand to bare, "You're going to
learn the error of your ways... CRUIO!"
"Wow. A Forbidden Curse," Draco's voice was completely monotone as he
let it wash over him, his dragonic vocal cords humming in a purr as he
used the Power to block the spell-- and reflect it back to Lucius, "I
bet you're in a lot of pain, aren't you?"
The fact that his father was on the ground, writhing in pain and
screaming, and he found it amusing was mildly disconcerting, but he
brushed it away after a moment, dissipating the spell with Hak's help,
before crouching beside his panting father, "Want to know why Voldemort
seems impossible to kill? He does the exact same thing I did to you,
even with the killing curse. He couldn't kill Harry because Weapon was
just as strong, if not stronger than him. The price of being the
Harbinger of the Balance, or Order and Chaos, of Live and Death... wow,
when I finish this stupid Challenge, I really should give Harry all
these new titles."
"Ch-ch-challenge...?" coughed Lucius, still laying flat out on the
ground as he recovered both from the Cruatius Curse, and the surprise
that his son had reflected it back at him.
"Uhm-hmm," Lucius shuddered as he felt one of his son's claws drag down
his cheek, slicing his flesh, "The Challenge. I'm not really your son,
and your not really my father, but I really am Draco Malfoy, just the
son of a different Lucius Malfoy."
"You've... gone insane..." Was Draco _drawing_ on his face?!
"Yeah, some time around the beginning of my sixth year,"Draco smiled
happily at the stick figured he'd drawn on his not-quite-father's face,
duking it out. They'd been conveniently labeled "Potter" and "Riddle".
Potter was winning, with his stick figure troops behind him-- also
labeled: Malfoy, Weasley, Black.
It wondered if the images would scar, then discarded the idea. It
wasn't like this Lucius was a real person. He was just made up by the
Challenge.
Draco wondered why he hadn't ever stood up to his father before. It
was... liberating. Not to mention Fun. The surprise on this Lucius'
face when Draco had gotten back onto his feet. It made his eyes water
with happiness, since a Malfoy didn't cry.
Unless he was crying while screaming under the effects of the Cruatius
Cruse and couldn't do anything about it.
Draco stood from his not-so-Father's body, cheerfully licking the blood
from his claw-tips as he stood around, "Wonder why the Challenge hasn't
ended yet."
Because you haven't said the magic words.
"Magic words? Hak, it kinda helps if you _tell_ me what you mean!"
You have to... say something, that ends the Challenge, or else you
could be stuck here for a decade or more; you just have to say the
right words.
"Wow, you're being helpful," Draco grumbled sarcastically, "Mind
telling me what those 'right words' are?"
Don't know them.
"HAK!! You stupid... arg! C'mon, standing up to Lucius was fun! Let me
go home so I can stand up to my dad!"
He blinked, suddenly finding himself in the darkness again, "Those were
the magic words?"
Apparently. Hak sounded just as mystified. That was very... strange, to
say the least. He'd never heard Hak sound mystified before.
Don't think it'll last.
"Moron," the dragon grumbled good naturedly. He scratched beneath his
spines, "So, which way to the 'Harbinger'?" he had to snicker. He was
going to call Harry that forever now. It was certainly better than
Ginny's "P".
No idea.
---
It figured he'd be the only one who managed to get himself lost in the
darkness, rather than immediately finding Potter and friends.
A good twenty minutes following his return from the Challenge, Draco
finally came across them... they were just facing the wrong way. How'd
he get around them?
"Whatcha lookin' for?" he wondered, popping up behind Potter and
staring over his shoulder at the darkness where Potter's green eyes
were searching.
"For Draco, Draco. He's kinda-- ack! Don't _do_ that!"
Draco started laughing as he stuck out his hand and hauled Potter back
to his feet. Harry looked so damned funny, when he realized that
Draco's head was right beside his, peering over his shoulder. A serious
invasion of personal space. It had been quite surprising.
Katar was looking over Draco's Weapon form with a bit of envy. Why
couldn't _he_ had gotten a cool form like that?
"What's your Weapon Name?!" Gunn and Dart were suddenly in the
dragon-boy's face, and he stumbled backwards a step or ten.
"Er... the Name is..." he paused blinking, "Uhm... I don't know? What
are your names?"
They looked between each other in confusion-- how could he not know
what his Name was? Maybe introducing themselves would work. Katar
stepped forwards first, "I am Katar."
"I'm Dart."
"Gunn."
"Figures," Draco muttered, before kicking Harry in the shin, "Why don't
I know _my_ Weapon Name, Harbinger?"
"Harbinger...?"
"Just answer the question, and maybe I'll explain later," Draco
snapped, annoyed. Stupid Potter.
"You lived the life of your counterpart, right?" Harry wondered, and
Draco nodded slowly, wondering if that meant something was wrong with
the Challenge, "That means you're a lot closer to the Power than anyone
who just observed, or interacted with their counterparts. It was like
me and Weapon-- we went through that, too. Only... Weapon could be so
many different Names, that he was just given the title of all the
Living Weapons as his Weapon Name. You're probably multiple weapons as
well."
"...Right..." Malfoy stared hard at him, "How, exactly, do I chose my
bloody Name, then?"
"What weapons come to mind, first thing?"
Draco blinked, "Scimitar, Dagger, Blade, Bugnuks, Monofilament Wire--
what the hell is that?-- Staff, Whip, Knives, Shuriken--"
"Okay, we get the point," Sirius grumbled, glaring at him. Why did
Draco get to have all the cool names?
Harry nodded slowly, then turned to his other half, "What do you think,
Weapon?"
"Combine two of the names," intoned the humanoid, "the one that feels
correct will call to Dragon."
"Uh... WireScimitar?"
"No."
Gunn tried, "ShurikenBugnuks?"
"Not likely," Draco made a face.
Dart rubbed his chin, "DaggerBlade?"
"They're the same thing."
"Oh, right."
This went on for a good ten minutes, as they attempted to jam the words
together to make his Weapon Name, but none of them seemed _right_ to
Draco. Finally, Katar decided to input his own two cents.
"Bladewhip."
Like that would work, Virginia and Sirius thought as one. They'd
already _tried_ Whipblade.
Draco's eyes seemed to shine, and in an act of insanity that only Harry
would attempt-- one he wouldn't have done a few bare months ago-- he
tackle hugged Katar, ignoring his fire-cloak, "That one works."
And the world fizzled back into existence around them.
---
End Chapter
Kennan - To be explained in this chapter. Sorry you got confused!
Steph - Bingo on Sirius' Challenge. Ginny's was that she had assumed
that because she was a pureblood, and had no muggle relatives, she
would be able to have prevented Harry from living that horrid life with
his aunt and uncle; unfortuantely, she didn't take into account all the
facts. As the Girl-Who-Lived she would have been placed on a pedastol
since infanthood, and as a pureblood, would have been raised knowing
all about it. She silence could be taken as snobbery, not being shy or
nervous, and people wouldn't like her.
Maybe I'll write a sidestory about the Girl-Who-Lived.
Kalih - I'm glad you like it so much to deviate from your normal
pattern of Sev/Harry ^___^
Oh, yeah, and I started this RPG because I am absolutely f'in bonkers.
check it out at http://groups.yahoo.com/groups/lupinenight
It's a Harry Potter/FF8 crossover, and read the background info on it
before you judge (you have to click the group's website link)
Don't worry, everyone can get into this group. I've been trying for
weeks to change the category on the Blackened Sunrise Mailing List, so
everyone can get it, but it's not letting me... --.--
Still of the not-owning.
---
Blackened Sunrise
Chapter Thirty-eight : Within
The Itch
---
For a split second, all Draco knew was darkness.
Then pain flared in his ribs, and he felt his body roll over. The
unmistakable ceiling of his own bedroom greeted him. Wha...? How did he
get here? And why was he on the floor? Hazy eyes skittered across the
surfaces in his bedroom until he realized just why exactly, he was on
the floor.
Lucius Malfoy stood over him, scowling darkly, his boot pulling back to
give his son another bone-breaking kick in the chest. Unprepared for
the assault, the Living Weapon let it slam into his body, sending him
flying. Who knew his father was that strong?
Or maybe it was that his body wasn't the same as he remembered it.
He let the Power flow through himself, and was stunned by the
realization-- this was not his body. It hadn't been his body for five
years.
He was eleven again.
Mouth dry, he missed a chance to get revenge on Lucius by catching the
next foot, and actually got to find out the reason for this beating-- a
beating Draco did _not_ recall ever happening to him.
"Damned boy!" spat his father, "You were supposed to be in Slytherin!"
Draco blinked a couple times. He... wasn't in Slytherin? Then perhaps
Ravenclaw, or Gryffindor. If there was one thing he'd learned by
hanging around Harry, it was that not all "Gryffindorks" were quite the
goodie-two-shoes he'd long since thought them to be.
Besides, he knew who Peter Pettigrew was. Is. Whatever.
"A Hufflepuff!" the man roared, and it managed to cover Draco's groan.
How had he managed to get into Hufflepuff?
You can be really loyal, Hak supplied, not-so-helpfully, more than any
Hufflepuff _I've_ ever seen.
Shut up, Hak just... "...shut up"
Lucius' eyes narrowed sharply, catching Draco's half-mumbled response
to the Power's internal, infernal, voice. Seething rage was replaced
with an icy mask, lips tightening into a pale, bloodless line, "What.
Did. You. Just. Say?!"
Draco started, surprised that he'd said it out loud for a moment,
before remembering he'd been developing a habit of answering Hak out
loud just before the Challenge. The Challenge! He was taking the
Challenge! How could he have forgotten.
You were being beat up.
"Shut up," this time he said it louder, just to see what this
Challenge-version of his father would say, or do, to being told what to
do by anyone other than Lord Voldemort.
"I thought so," his foot came back, and Draco figured his ribs would
have been broken when it connected, except for two facts. The first was
mighty impressive-- just because his form looked human, didn't mean his
bones were weak and frail like theirs. His bones were like a dragon's,
only condensed further. And the second was because he'd bounced up and
caught Lucius' foot, unbalancing the older man, and causing him to fall
on his ass.
Draco slowly stood, cracking his neck as he did so, and rolling his
shoulders. No where near the muscle-mass he was used to, in his body,
but it would have to do. He didn't even know if he had his ward around
his ankle. He'd grown so used to it's presence, that he never noticed
it anymore, "You know something...?"
Lucius was already getting to his feet, glaring at his son. When had
Draco gotten so strong? At Christmas, he'd barely been strong enough
not to react to one of Narcissa's slaps, but any hit from Lucius would
normally put the boy down for the next couple of nights. Draco had
taken three hits, and caught one, and was still standing. Still...
grinning? "What the bloody hell...?"
"You're a bloody pillock!" the younger Malfoy cheered brightly, "Or
maybe a pouf! Hey, yeah, that makes more sense! What do you see in a
snake-faced man, any ways, if you're not getting it from him?"
What was Draco babbling about _now_? Snake-faced man? Who could he...
his mind flickered back to something he'd seen before the end of the
time he'd been a Deatheater. Lord Voldemort had been handsome, yes, but
he never aged. Lucius had been a part of his army since he was a sixth
year at Hogwarts. Voldemort had been over thirty by that point, but he
only looked nineteen.
Never once had he seen his master age, in the years he'd worked for
him, but he had seen something truly disturbing. He'd seen the lovely
and powerful Lord Voldemort physically shift into a vengeful wraith,
with the face of a snake. But how had his son known that?
"What? ...how...?"
Draco stared at him in shock, "You're kidding. You're _really_ getting
it from a snake? How 'bout mom? Was she getting it from him too? Ewww,
I could be the son of snake-man!"
Lucius felt himself exasperated about how Draco was ranting about
possibly being Voldemort's son, not unlike a muggle. What were they
_teaching_ there at Hogwarts??
He _knew_ Draco should have gone to Durmstang!
And now Draco was talking to some none existent being apparently named
Hak. Maybe he'd damaged his son's brain in this beating? It made far
too much sense, considering this was the most he'd ever hit his son.
Then again, he rarely saw Draco. Maybe this was how he _always_ was.
That was a scary thought. The Heir to the Malfoy name... stark raving
mad. But... would Severus have sent him a let-- no, wait, Severus was
still pissed off at him because _he_ got Narcissa and the Potions
Master hadn't.
Talk about holding a grudge.
Lucius' mind was running in all directions, and he didn't bother to
stop and think it could be inherited insanity.
Draco suddenly clapping brought his own attention back from where ever
it had wandered, "Hey! That's a good idea, Hak! ...No, I think this is
the only time you've ever had a good idea. Shut up, Hak."
He turned a ruthless grin onto his father, and Lucius reflexively
reached for his wand as he saw his son do something he'd ever seen his
Master do. His eyes began to glow-- silver, not his master's red, but
it was no less creepy-- the glow increase to the point that his son's
eyes held no other color. Pure, unadulterated power flooded the room,
causing Lucius to step back with a gasp at it's strength.
It was literally, visibly, flowing off his son.
The boy's robes began to flap in an unknown wind, slowly twisting,
morphing, changing into muggle clothing-- a white, oriental style shirt
with tails that fluttered around his white-booted ankles, thin legs
clad in white silk slacks. It was an imposing image, his son in pure
white, glowing with power. He looked... ethereal, but not frail. No,
strength was dripping from every angle of the eleven year old's body.
Then those glowing eyes narrowed sharply, and in a fashion he hadn't
seen since the day he saw Tom Riddle change into the true Voldemort,
scales rippled across his son's flesh. His hair hardened, standing in
spines, while four blades extended out from his shoulder blades. His
fingers tapered and became ripping, rendering claws, while a tail
lashed out from behind the boy. He let a husky laugh leave his lips,
hissing between his all-too-long fangs.
"Don't recognize your son?" hissed this strange figure, "Oh, that's too
bad, Daddy-dear. I thought you'd be... proud that your only son was cut
from the same mold at Tom Riddle. Or perhaps not. I like to think I'm a
step above that guy. He _is_ only a First, not a Second like me. Like
Weasley, Potter and Black..."
Black? Who was that? It couldn't possibly be Sirius Black-- he was
holed up in Azkaban, so it had to be someone he'd met at Hogwarts. How
dare the boy compare someone of his heritage with a _Weasley_! And
Potter... James' only son. The Boy-Who-Lived.
Hadn't he taught Draco to hate that boy? But, oh, wait... Draco was in
Hufflepuff. He wouldn't see any need to get angry and mean with Potter
since they weren't in _opposing_ houses. Lucius' own rage returned to
him with the thought of his son in Hufflepuff.
"He was a Slytherin!" snapped the older man, "You are just a lowly
Hufflepuff. How dare you compare yourself to our Master!"
"_Your_ master," the not-quite Draco returned cooly, "And quite
frankly, Slytherin sucks. The common room is fucking cold, you've got
to put charms and wards and locks on _everything_ or someone will make
off with it, and there's that whole mess with they're all _butt-ugly_!
Why would I want to get stuck with them?"
"Draco..." Lucius snarled, bringing his wand to bare, "You're going to
learn the error of your ways... CRUIO!"
"Wow. A Forbidden Curse," Draco's voice was completely monotone as he
let it wash over him, his dragonic vocal cords humming in a purr as he
used the Power to block the spell-- and reflect it back to Lucius, "I
bet you're in a lot of pain, aren't you?"
The fact that his father was on the ground, writhing in pain and
screaming, and he found it amusing was mildly disconcerting, but he
brushed it away after a moment, dissipating the spell with Hak's help,
before crouching beside his panting father, "Want to know why Voldemort
seems impossible to kill? He does the exact same thing I did to you,
even with the killing curse. He couldn't kill Harry because Weapon was
just as strong, if not stronger than him. The price of being the
Harbinger of the Balance, or Order and Chaos, of Live and Death... wow,
when I finish this stupid Challenge, I really should give Harry all
these new titles."
"Ch-ch-challenge...?" coughed Lucius, still laying flat out on the
ground as he recovered both from the Cruatius Curse, and the surprise
that his son had reflected it back at him.
"Uhm-hmm," Lucius shuddered as he felt one of his son's claws drag down
his cheek, slicing his flesh, "The Challenge. I'm not really your son,
and your not really my father, but I really am Draco Malfoy, just the
son of a different Lucius Malfoy."
"You've... gone insane..." Was Draco _drawing_ on his face?!
"Yeah, some time around the beginning of my sixth year,"Draco smiled
happily at the stick figured he'd drawn on his not-quite-father's face,
duking it out. They'd been conveniently labeled "Potter" and "Riddle".
Potter was winning, with his stick figure troops behind him-- also
labeled: Malfoy, Weasley, Black.
It wondered if the images would scar, then discarded the idea. It
wasn't like this Lucius was a real person. He was just made up by the
Challenge.
Draco wondered why he hadn't ever stood up to his father before. It
was... liberating. Not to mention Fun. The surprise on this Lucius'
face when Draco had gotten back onto his feet. It made his eyes water
with happiness, since a Malfoy didn't cry.
Unless he was crying while screaming under the effects of the Cruatius
Cruse and couldn't do anything about it.
Draco stood from his not-so-Father's body, cheerfully licking the blood
from his claw-tips as he stood around, "Wonder why the Challenge hasn't
ended yet."
Because you haven't said the magic words.
"Magic words? Hak, it kinda helps if you _tell_ me what you mean!"
You have to... say something, that ends the Challenge, or else you
could be stuck here for a decade or more; you just have to say the
right words.
"Wow, you're being helpful," Draco grumbled sarcastically, "Mind
telling me what those 'right words' are?"
Don't know them.
"HAK!! You stupid... arg! C'mon, standing up to Lucius was fun! Let me
go home so I can stand up to my dad!"
He blinked, suddenly finding himself in the darkness again, "Those were
the magic words?"
Apparently. Hak sounded just as mystified. That was very... strange, to
say the least. He'd never heard Hak sound mystified before.
Don't think it'll last.
"Moron," the dragon grumbled good naturedly. He scratched beneath his
spines, "So, which way to the 'Harbinger'?" he had to snicker. He was
going to call Harry that forever now. It was certainly better than
Ginny's "P".
No idea.
---
It figured he'd be the only one who managed to get himself lost in the
darkness, rather than immediately finding Potter and friends.
A good twenty minutes following his return from the Challenge, Draco
finally came across them... they were just facing the wrong way. How'd
he get around them?
"Whatcha lookin' for?" he wondered, popping up behind Potter and
staring over his shoulder at the darkness where Potter's green eyes
were searching.
"For Draco, Draco. He's kinda-- ack! Don't _do_ that!"
Draco started laughing as he stuck out his hand and hauled Potter back
to his feet. Harry looked so damned funny, when he realized that
Draco's head was right beside his, peering over his shoulder. A serious
invasion of personal space. It had been quite surprising.
Katar was looking over Draco's Weapon form with a bit of envy. Why
couldn't _he_ had gotten a cool form like that?
"What's your Weapon Name?!" Gunn and Dart were suddenly in the
dragon-boy's face, and he stumbled backwards a step or ten.
"Er... the Name is..." he paused blinking, "Uhm... I don't know? What
are your names?"
They looked between each other in confusion-- how could he not know
what his Name was? Maybe introducing themselves would work. Katar
stepped forwards first, "I am Katar."
"I'm Dart."
"Gunn."
"Figures," Draco muttered, before kicking Harry in the shin, "Why don't
I know _my_ Weapon Name, Harbinger?"
"Harbinger...?"
"Just answer the question, and maybe I'll explain later," Draco
snapped, annoyed. Stupid Potter.
"You lived the life of your counterpart, right?" Harry wondered, and
Draco nodded slowly, wondering if that meant something was wrong with
the Challenge, "That means you're a lot closer to the Power than anyone
who just observed, or interacted with their counterparts. It was like
me and Weapon-- we went through that, too. Only... Weapon could be so
many different Names, that he was just given the title of all the
Living Weapons as his Weapon Name. You're probably multiple weapons as
well."
"...Right..." Malfoy stared hard at him, "How, exactly, do I chose my
bloody Name, then?"
"What weapons come to mind, first thing?"
Draco blinked, "Scimitar, Dagger, Blade, Bugnuks, Monofilament Wire--
what the hell is that?-- Staff, Whip, Knives, Shuriken--"
"Okay, we get the point," Sirius grumbled, glaring at him. Why did
Draco get to have all the cool names?
Harry nodded slowly, then turned to his other half, "What do you think,
Weapon?"
"Combine two of the names," intoned the humanoid, "the one that feels
correct will call to Dragon."
"Uh... WireScimitar?"
"No."
Gunn tried, "ShurikenBugnuks?"
"Not likely," Draco made a face.
Dart rubbed his chin, "DaggerBlade?"
"They're the same thing."
"Oh, right."
This went on for a good ten minutes, as they attempted to jam the words
together to make his Weapon Name, but none of them seemed _right_ to
Draco. Finally, Katar decided to input his own two cents.
"Bladewhip."
Like that would work, Virginia and Sirius thought as one. They'd
already _tried_ Whipblade.
Draco's eyes seemed to shine, and in an act of insanity that only Harry
would attempt-- one he wouldn't have done a few bare months ago-- he
tackle hugged Katar, ignoring his fire-cloak, "That one works."
And the world fizzled back into existence around them.
---
End Chapter