FIC: Whisper of a Dance Forgotten- Chapter One
Title: Whisper of a Dance Forgotten (Chapter One)
Warnings: AU, threesome, angst, torture, character death, most pertain to future chapters.

Chapter One: Whisper of a Problem

Harry was sitting on the lid of the toilet. He'd been there for the past twenty minutes, ever since the conductor announced their imminent arrival at the station.

Fifteen minutes ago he'd heard the little girl tell her parents in a high frantic voice that 'the man' had been eaten by the monster in the toilet. Not too long after a woman's voice called through the door asking if he was well. He'd replied that motion sickness had sunk in and the woman had left him alone.

The truth of it, though, was deep down inside he thought maybe if he stayed cooped up in the bathroom, he wouldn't have to face those who were waiting for him on Platform Eleven. It was a childish instinct, yes, but nevertheless it made him feel a little better.

Harry groaned and cradled his head in his cupped hands. 'I wish I had never received that letter,' Harry thought as he willed away the urge to sleep. With the arrival of the letter, his nightmares had returned with a vengeance and wouldn't leave him in peace during the night. During the day even, he became so paranoid he would see Death Eaters lurking in the shadows when there was nothing there, and once or twice he could have sworn he saw Lucius Malfoy gazing at him from store windows while he wandered the streets.

Harry lifted his head and examined himself in the mirror, trying to turn his thoughts away from his paranoia to what the others would think of him now. He had grown, not much by any standard, but at least he was taller than the meagre five feet-five inches when he had left. His hair was longer and streaked with white at the tender age of twenty-four. He never understood why the white appeared after the end of the war, but he knew it resisted all dyes and means of magical concealment. Harry smiled at the mirror. He remembered trying to dye his hair brown once, but the white streaks only turned a bright green colour before returning to the blinding white a few moments later. Harry's smile weakened as he looked at his eyes. They were the same shocking green they had always been, but that was only because he was hiding his true color behind Muggle contacts.

One day, not long after he'd left, he'd awakened one morning to severe pain in his eyes. He had wanted to pull them out, scratch them out, and rip them out of their sockets just to make the pain end. Though as soon as the pain started, it ended, leaving only a light tingling sensation behind and, shockingly, a new eye colour of deep rust. Again, he did not understand the change or what it meant, he just accepted it and hid it from the world around him.

Pulling his eyes away from his reflection he looked down at his watch. They should be there any minute now and he could feel the butterflies in his stomach increasing at the mere thought.

What had made him respond to that letter when he had ignored all of the others? What made him get on this train and go to London to meet people he would have rather forgotten? Was it the desperation and the need that he had sensed flowing off those few words? Or was it his own need that made him return 'home'? Why was this so hard for him? He was the fucking Boy-Who-Lived and he was scared of old friends and professors?

He was startled out of his thoughts when there was a quick succession of three knocks on the bathroom door.

"Sir, are you all right? We're going to arrive at the station in just under five minutes. Do you need a doctor?" a woman's voice called through the door.

Sighing, Harry got to his feet and opened the door, smiling kindly at the woman who had asked for his ticket earlier. "No, I am quite fine. I feel much better, actually." With a soft smile he moved around the woman and headed back to his seat. The little girl watched him with wide astonished blue eyes and Harry couldn't help but reassure her. "There are no such things as monsters, young lady."

The girl's eyes crinkled as she frowned at him. "Are you sure?" she asked disbelievingly.

"Of course I'm sure--" The train jerked to a stop and Harry flew forward, landing on his face. He heard the little girl scream and her parents saying something he couldn't understand. Harry groaned as he lifted himself up, wondering if he was going to have carpet burns on his face. "What was that?" he asked to no one in particular, feeling his nose to make sure it wasn't bleeding or broken.

It was then that he sensed it.

Whatever 'it' was, it called to his mind the far to familiar reek of death and decay.

The little girl was still screaming, but he didn't try to calm her, nor did he pay any attention to the ticket woman as she tried to explain the situation. Instead he slowly and cautiously walked to the window to look outside, running his hand over his concealed wand in his shirtsleeve.

They were barely on the other side of the London city limits, with few houses and businesses scattered about but Harry couldn't see anyone.

'Maybe my paranoia is kicking in again,' he thought to himself as he put his face closer to glass so he could see farther up the train. But still he saw nothing.

He was about to pull away from the window when something dropped down from the top of the train right in front of Harry. His eyes widened, taking in the grotesque form of the creature kneeling on its haunches with its back turned to Harry. He heard screams in the background from the other passengers and the hurried pounding of feet as they tried to escape to other cars.

Harry, though, only had eyes for the creature. Tattered robes were wrapped around a large portion of its legs and torso. Its hair was reminiscent of the colour of mold found on old cheese and its skin, visible through the rents and tears in its cloak, was a mix of white with black lumps, which looked as though they were peeling off in large portions. The creature rose to its feet, looking oddly human in form, and turned around to face the train window where Harry stood.

Its face was what stunned Harry the most. The mouth was stretched wide into a sort of perverted smile, which showed off several rows of small sharp pointed teeth. The nose hardly existed; it was just a small bump of skin in the middle of its face. And the creature's wicked yellow eyes were staring straight at him.

Harry slowly fingered his wand down his arm to where he could palm the handle, his eyes never leaving the being in front of him.

The creature cocked his head to the side and spoke, "Weelll, iff it isssn't Harrry Potter, thee Boy-Whoo-Lived."

Harry watched in disbelief as the creature moved faster than anything he had ever seen and attacked the glass window that separated them with claws he hadn't noticed before.

'Oh shit.'

"Where is that damned boy?" Moody growled to his companions as he paced.

Severus Snape sneered at the old Auror and crossed his arms across his chest and ignored the man's infuriating pacing. Snape couldn't believe he was there in the first place, standing in a Muggle city, in a Muggle train station, wearing Muggle clothes, and waiting for the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Make-His-Life-Hell.

Growling quietly he thought back to the meeting he had with the Headmaster just two days ago.

"Come in, Severus." Dumbledore's voice had called from behind the door to his office.

Snape, with his hand hovering just above the door where it was ready to knock, pursed his lips and moved to open the door and walked inside.

Dumbledore's office was much like it had been in previous years, full of gadgets, books, and, of course, the paintings of past headmasters who wouldn't stop talking every time Snape entered the office. Snape ignored the questions of 'is your hair greasier than usual?' and 'I heard that new first year, Jacobson, blew up your whole classroom-- how did he do it?' that the paintings were asking him and went straight the chair in front of the Headmaster's desk.

"Ah, Severus, so good to see you! It seems you are never out of that dungeon of yours unless it's off to find potion ingredients or to visit Mr. Malfoy." Dumbledore smiled at Snape in a way that he found a little disconcerting. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Headmaster, you are the one who called me up here." Snape had replied, not allowing any of his annoyance to show through.

"Yes, yes, indeed. I remember now." Dumbledore's face turned serious and that, in turn, had made Snape wary of what was going to be said next. "You see, Severus, I have a small mission for you and a few others. A simple retrieve and return."

"Somehow I don't believe that." Snape had said, wrinkling his nose slightly.

"Oh, Severus, such little faith you have."

Snape snorted. 'Little faith indeed.' Snape thought as he glanced at the large clock that was hanging on one of station's pillars. 'Where is that annoying boy? He's ten minutes late.'

"Something's wrong," a voice said from his shoulder. Looking down a few inches, his eyes reached the silver-blond hair of Draco Malfoy.

"The only thing wrong is that I am here," Severus growled, "waiting for that ungrateful brat."

"I'm serious, Snape. Something is out th--" Draco started but cut himself off as he felt a steady pulse of strong and pure magic. "Do you feel that?"

"Yes," Snape replied, eyes narrowing slightly as he concentrated on the magic. It felt strangely familiar to him. 'Harry...' He then could feel some other signature that was darker... tainted. "It's Potter and something else." With a glance at Draco, he Apparated to Harry, with Draco and a cursing Moody not far behind.