Title: My Play Thing

Summary: When someone else is making Harry's blood boil, Draco gets jealous. SLASH! Get it?

Disclaimer: These are not my toys; they are J.K. Rowling's. I am only borrowing them, and once I am done, I shall put them back on the shelf exactly how they were. OH CRAP! His head fell off…

Author's Note: I am warning you all in advance, this fic is an experiment. I might not finish it. Just want to try it out.

Warning: SLASH! That's boy-boy love and if that is unappealing to you, leave. Now.

Harry Potter was lying on his bed of number 4, Privet Drive, staring at the ceiling, unfeeling. The summers he stayed here were spent sitting in his room, locked up and isolated. This summer the feeling of isolation was drastically increased, with the weight of the prophecy fresh in his mind, and the loss of his godfather raw in his heart.

Harry sighed heavily and turned over, and as he did, he saw Hedwig fly in through his open window with a short letter tied to her leg. He got up and pulled the letter off her foot, and glanced at the letter. When he recognized Mad-Eye Moody's handwriting, he quickly tore it open and read it.

Harry,

I hope that this letter will bring you good news. The Order has just learned of Wormtail's hideouts, and will contact the Ministry within the hour. Pettigrew will be locked up by tomorrow evening.

With that event, the Order and I, and your friends, have decided to put together a little memorial for Sirius. It shall be a private affair, and we hope to give you some closure for your godfather. He was a good man.

I'll be seeing you sooner than you'd expect,

Alistor

Harry quickly reread the letter twice more, then balled the piece of parchment up and threw it in the trash bin. So, Pettigrew was found out. He was going to confess, and then go to Azkaban. 'Not that it'll make any difference now,' he thought to himself, 'We were too late to save Sirius'.

Immediately, he didn't want to go to the memorial. That would make the whole thing too real. Closure would mean confrontation with the truth, Sirius really was dead, and he wasn't coming back. Harry didn't want to deal with that.

Giving in to the major sign of depression, Harry laid back down on his bed and fell asleep.

When Harry opened his eyes he was standing in a dimly light cluttered room, facing the only window. He felt himself begin to walk over to it, to look outside; he felt that he hadn't seen sunlight in so long. However, something was stopping him. An invisible force, perhaps. First he felt it bind his feet, then his legs, and soon he couldn't move his torso or his arms. Before he lost control of his neck, he turned his head sharply to see the doorway.

As he lost all sensation and control of his neck, he saw a rather short figure burst into the room. There was a flash of green light and all he knew was darkness again.

Harry was brought back to the conscious world with a jolt. He was yelling hoarsely, drenched in a cold sweat, and he was tangled in his sheets. Surprisingly, his scar did not bother him.

"Ah, the good lad's awake now," Harry looked around the room, startled. This voice was somewhat familiar, yet he knew it didn't belong to anyone who lived in number 4, Privet Drive. Somewhere by his cluttered desk, Mad-Eye Moody pulled the room apart and stepped out of nowhere. Harry's closet door opened, and out stepped Tonks. Or, rather, out fell Tonks.

"Wow, Harry, look at that closet! I'm proud of you, ya know that, right?" Tonks laughed loudly at Harry's bewildered look.

"What are you guy's doing here? It hasn't even been a week of holiday," Harry choked out. "Surely Dumbledore would want me to stay here a while longer."

"Nope. We thought the same thing when he called us to come collect you," Moody answered. "We don't have much time, the Muggles should be waking up anytime soon…" He let his sentence linger in the air for a while, then grabbed Harry by the shoulder.

"This may hurt a bit," he grunted. Harry nodded and squeezed his eyes shut. He felt his feet leave the ground, but only for a split second, as if he had hopped in place. When his feet hit solid ground again, a stinging pain filled them for a moment, as if he had walked all the way from the small suburb to Hogwarts itself. Tonks' voice broke the silence.

"Welcome back, Harry!"

When Harry opened his eyes again, the house of number 12, Grimmauld Place loomed in front of where he stood.

Authors note: Yay the epilogue is done! Now y'all know where stuff is happening. Or maybe not. Oh well. Either way, I'm a review WHORE, so please, review!