Jus Sanguinis
Definition: Latin phrase meaning, "law of blood"; in governmental terms, the principle that grants citizenship on the basis of the citizenship of one's parents.
Chapter 1: Dance the Night Away
The tears rolled down his face.
He'd never asked for this cruel fate. He'd just been a child when all of this had begun.
His parents had been murdered, his godfather locked away, as if to prevent any means of contact, and he, Harry, had been dumped, all alone, into a cage of his own.
It may be the Dursley castle, but it was his cage.
He was reminded constantly, intentionally and unintentionally, of the many horrors his existence had caused people. Torture, sickness, madness, and death, too.
All of it was his fault.
Harry warily removed one hand from the rim of the astronomy tower to wipe his wet cheeks. The dark night was absolutely silent, listening to his miseries, listening to his pathetic story, and listening to his loud tears drop one by one from his eyes.
Life was just so unfair. No one could get the short end of the stick as many times as he had. That is, no normal human.
Harry looked up to the sky. His parents were watching over him, Sirius was watching over him, so many more people he cared about were all watching over him… or so he thought. After all, it was his fault they were all dead. Perhaps toying with his fate was their way of getting back at him.
But here, right now, surrounded by the cold blanket of the night, Harry finally felt at peace. The darkness was where he belonged, though this in itself went against everything he had believed his whole life. He was taught that the world was black and white with no shades of gray in-between. Black was bad, being the darker of the two and white was good, symbolizing light and all things just and true. But if Harry had been parading around the light all his life, what was so good about it? He had nothing to be proud of and no one to share happiness with.
Of course there were his friends—his wonderful friends. No one could ask for more loyal, trusting friends, but that was the trouble. Harry loved them. He loved them so much, just as he loved his parents and Sirius… and his loving them hadn't saved them from their horrible fates, so it was clear to Harry that wonderful friends like Ron and Hermione deserved a companion better and safer than he.
The wind blew harshly and tousled his untidy locks of black hair. Harry gripped the edge of the astronomy tower harder, for he was standing on the outside edge of the tower, not within the balcony. With his face so damp and the wind whipping past him so fast, Harry felt his glasses slip down his nose and watched them fall from his face, to the ground. For a single moment, he had wanted to try and catch them, but what would be the use of that? He listened for the small sound of tinkering glass as they fell to the ground, but he didn't hear anything. Perhaps because the wind was roaring so loudly. He wouldn't need them where he was going, though. Not like his glasses helped all that much anyway; they just made the light before him clearer, and like he'd recently discovered, it wasn't as though the light had ever done him any good.
Numb from the cold weather, Harry finally let go of the astronomy tower. He watched the landscape around him fall upward in slow motion. He saw specks of light moving around the Forbidden Forest. He saw the flags at the Quidditch pitch gallantly wave goodbye to him, and he saw the full moon straight above his head. He didn't know why he hadn't noticed all the light its brightness was casting upon the peaceful night. He looked into it and suddenly saw a face sneer at him and start to cackle.
Wonderful. The last face he'd ever see would be a hallucinatory image of Draco Malfoy's face, sneering down at him.
And just as he saw the ground come closer, Harry closed his eyes and crossed his hands over his chest, preparing to be admitted into the darkness. Forev—
Harry felt an invisible rope wrap itself around his waist. He was close enough to ground to smell the wet grass below, but was then instantly pulled up four stories of Hogwarts castle until he entered a window and landed by crashing onto the floor and rolling into a bookshelf. His landing had caused books to topple everywhere and had upset a couple of ugly portraits that had been sleeping on the wall next to him.
"Suicide?" Harry heard a voice exclaim. Then the owner of the voice, hidden in the shadows, walked toward him and tossed him his glasses. "How bloody lame is that, Potter?!"
Life was wonderful.
School was going well, Gryffindor was in the lead for the House Cup, an awful pimple on her forehead was finally beginning to go away, she was so close to graduating from Hogwarts (with full honors), and she was dating the best man in the world: Draco Malfoy.
Though Ron and her father definitely could argue the validity of that last bit.
"Arthur! Be happy for her!" Ginny remembered her mother hissing into her father's ear.
It would be nice if her brothers and father would just accept that she was dating Draco, but she could deal if they didn't. The hatred toward Draco wasn't as severe anymore since Ginny was actually dating him. Before, if a Malfoy were spotted within a mile radius, grand pianos, boulders, and anvils would be summoned above his head. Now, however, a small refrigerator, might be summoned.
She smiled at the random memory as she ate a grilled cheese sandwich with a glass of milk. She had brought the midnight snack into her dormitory to help her stay up late while she studied, but the milk was only proving to make her sleepier, so she closed her books and got into bed.
Her bedside table had three pictures waving at her and blowing her goodnight kisses. First was the very old newspaper clipping of her family when they had won a trip to Egypt on the eve of her second year at Hogwarts. Her family pushed and shoved and climbed on one another's shoulders (this would be Fred and George) to stay within the boundaries of the photo and wave to Ginny. The second photo was a picture of Harry, Ron, and Hermione standing together on the Quidditch pitch. Ron was giving a bashful Harry a noogie while Hermione stood a little off to the side and waved at her. The third picture was the newest, and it was of Draco, more particularly, his school picture from last year. When she glanced at it, he was trying to fix his hair, but as soon as he realized Ginny had seen him, he immediately straightened up, flashed her a cocky grin, and winked at her.
Ginny smiled to herself. She loved those pictures, and she loved that they were on her bedside table, for every night before she closed her eyes, the last people she'd see were the people she loved most, and every morning when she opened her eyes, they'd still be there.
Harry was breathing hard, not only from the rush one may get from falling several stories off an old castle, but also because of all people—
"Malfoy!" Harry cried—
Had saved his life.
"No need for such attitude. It's not like I'm absolutely thrilled to see you sprawled about on my floor at this hour. Imagine what people would think—if someone were to walk in here? You, just lying about with your glasses off, me, towering over you with my sexy body and torso, bathed in the moonlight."
Draco stepped into the light and Harry finally got a good look at him and saw the boy slept in his boxers. Draco had horribly skinny legs, but the top half of his body was rather muscular, but that was how most Quidditch seekers were built, so that wasn't a big deal.
Harry frowned at Draco. "You're disgusting, Malfoy. Do you have dreams about moments like this?"
"All the time," Draco said a bit too enthusiastically. "In fact, I daydream about things like this. In Potions when I glare at you, I'm actually stripping you with my eyes."
Harry felt his stomach flip. As if he didn't dread potions enough already… and he'd almost been rid of everything just a moment ago. Harry wondered if the face he'd seen in the moon had actually been some ancestor of Draco who also decided to play a trick on Harry to make him suffer through life a little bit longer.
"Malfoy!" Harry called out.
Draco had been going on and on about whipped cream and some pair of leather pants. "Not so loud! It's two o'clock in the morning, idiot!"
Harry cursed the Gods in his head. Of all people, the one to "rescue" him just had to be Draco Malfoy. Couldn't they just give him a break!? He rolled his eyes. "Malfoy, what're you doing up this late?"
The platinum-haired boy glanced out the window quickly and then gave a perplexing glare at Harry. "Saving your life, apparently."
"Since when have you been concerned with my life?" Harry asked. He realized this was a stupid question, and wasn't surprised when Draco replied back with an obvious answer.
"Uh, since about the time I was born?" Draco rolled his eyes. "But really, even Longbottom wouldn't be so stupid as to throw himself off the astronomy tower! Did you know that's the number one make-out scene? Wait, of course you wouldn't… you're just about done with Hogwarts and you still haven't found a girl for yourself! That's sad. Being an evil Slytherin and all, even I feel sorry for you."
Harry rolled his eyes this time and got up. "Just shut up," he groaned. He made for the door, but Draco blocked his way. "Let me out," Harry demanded.
Draco folded his arms over his chest. "I'll bet you everything you're worth and everything I'm worth, which is a lot more than you, that you'll die quicker going out this door than jumping out that window."
"Great! Then let me out!" Harry yelled.
"No! How would it look if you came out of my room in the middle of the night looking as ugly as you do? If someone were to see you, they'd think I'd roughed you up or something, and not in the sense of beating your face in." Draco gave Harry a repulsed look and Harry returned it.
"Okay, Malfoy, when I can find my stomach again, you're dead."
"You can't even kill yourself. What good will it do to kill me?" Draco swished his wand at the door and the window and both exits shut with definite clicks. "Plus, without me, you won't ever be able to get out of this room." Draco walked over to his bed and fixed the covers to go back to sleep.
"And where am I supposed to sleep?"
"Why should I care?"
Harry rolled his eyes, sat in the chair at Draco's desk and put his head down on the table. "Sweet dreams, you blessing from Hell."
"Sure," Draco mumbled. "I'll tell Gin you said so."
So that's why he saved me, Harry thought. Ginny.
Draco, apparently, loved his beauty sleep. Harry found that he woke up at the last possible moment and rather stealthily and smoothly dressed himself. Neither of the boys were morning people, though Harry did give a loud growl when Draco wouldn't allow him to use his shower.
"Just let me go to my own room!"
"Come now," Draco said. "You've got to let me have a little fun with the whole situation. I did save your life, Potter."
"I never asked you to, Malfoy."
Draco curiously stared into Harry for half a minute, as if to look through him, then resumed staring at himself in the mirror.
Harry waited next to him, arms crossed, foot tapping. "Can we go now?"
"What? Oh, sure," Draco smirked. "Go ahead and apparate out of here. I've still got some touching up to do."
Harry stared blankly at Draco. "Apparate?"
"Yeah," He said. "You know, where you vanish from one spot and appear in another?" Draco apparated from where he was standing, to his bed, and then back to where he was standing. He snorted slightly, but otherwise held a steady smirk across his countenance.
"You mean this whole time I could've just apparated out of here?"
"Yes. And you wonder why I call you an idiot," Draco scoffed.
"You know what? F—"
Before Harry could say what he'd wanted to, Draco waved his wand through the air and Harry suddenly popped into a different location. He blinked slightly and gathered his bearings—he was in the Great Hall!
He spotted Ron and Hermione coming toward him and suddenly looked down at the wrinkled clothes he was wearing.
"Oy, mate," Ron greeted him. "Didn't you wear that yesterday?"
"Yeah. So? What of it?" Harry said, all the while cursing Draco in his mind.
There was an odd silence.
Hermione smiled. "Well, I've always loved that green shirt. Uh, it goes well with your eyes!"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Thanks, guys, really."
The trio sat down at their usual spots for breakfast and a few minutes later, Harry spotted Draco casually slither into the Great Hall, a good few of his cronies buzzing around him. Harry was about to say something to him, or at least make some sort rude hand signal, but then—
"Harry Potter?"
Harry whipped his head around. It was Dumbledore. "Yes, sir?"
"Mr. Potter, I would like to see you in my office, if it isn't too much trouble," Dumbledore said.
"Actually, I—"
"Now." With that, Dumbledore turned on his heel and began walking out of the Great Hall, obviously expecting Harry to follow behind. Ron and Hermione gave Harry worried glances and he returned the looks with a nervous smile.
Before leaving the Great Hall, Harry somehow found eye contact with Draco and though the Slytherin didn't say anything or change his facial expression, for some reason, Harry had the horrible feeling that whatever was coming was Draco's fault.
Harry entered Dumbledore's office and looked around him, not able to see Dumbledore anywhere within reasonable sight. Though he'd been in the room many times, each time he reentered, it seemed to have changed just slightly some how. Today, the room was in the shape of a pentagon. It was particularly dark since the curtains were drawn together to hide the crying day behind them. Fawkes was resting in his usual location, but didn't fly over to Harry like usual because it was clear he had just regenerated recently since faint traces of ashes could still be seen around his nest.
He looked up and saw a floating model of the solar system spinning above his head. On the wall diagonally to his left, he saw an enormous case of what seemed like cards. Harry walked closer to it and was surprised to see Dumbledore was an avid collector of chocolate frog cards. He quickly scanned the collection and was surprised to see the one card the old headmaster was missing was his own! Harry found this odd since he remembered Ron had told him Dumbledore cards were quite common and his very first chocolate frog card had been of Dumbledore as well! He shrugged and continued observing the framed collection until a large object got in the way, that being Dumbledore's desk. It was a large oak desk with many trinkets, iridescent bottles, books, medals, quills, and candies atop it, all of which were swaying back and forth, for Dumbledore's desk had clawed feet and seemed to walk at its own will.
Harry backed away from the desk and when he turned, came face to face with the old school Sorting Hat. The hat had been one of his favorite parts of Dumbledore's office, for it always had something wise or entertaining to say to Harry that somehow related to the reason Harry was in the office. But this time, the hat seemed to glare at Harry, frown, and then turn around to avoid looking at Harry at all.
Flabbergasted, Harry walked to the fireplace, the only warm attribute of the room, and sat in a chair. He looked around him to find several portraits inhabited by sleeping professors and headmasters. One professor, however, was not sleeping. She was writing something on a chalkboard. Harry squinted his eyes to read what she wrote, but it was no use. He left the comforts of the chair he sat in and crept closer. The chalkboard read: Harry Potter is a bad, disturbed, and ugly boy. His grammar skills are horrid and he needs to brush his hair—
Harry suddenly jumped when he heard the doorknob to Dumbledore's office rattle. He ran his fingers through his hair, clueless of what to do with himself, and finally ran to the middle of the room to stand on a rug with the Hogwarts crest on it.
The door swung open and as Harry had suspected, it revealed Dumbledore. He did not wear his usual cheery expression and his eyes did not twinkle at him. Today, his expression was as dull and uninviting as his office was, which should be expected since Hogwarts: A History, according to Hermione, said the headmaster's office changes shape, shade, and form according to how the headmaster is feeling that particular moment.
The last time Harry could remember Dumbledore look so emotionlessly at him had been during his fifth year, but that had been to protect Harry from Voldemort. What was this all about? What had he gotten himself into now? Rather, as his gut feeling was, what had Malfoy gotten him into?
"Hello, Headmaster," Harry finally said.
Dumbledore pursed his lips and began pacing back and forth, left to right. Harry squirmed a bit, not sure of what to do with himself and was starting to wish he had been sitting in the chair when Dumbledore had come in. He finally stopped in his tracks and turned to face Harry.
"Harry, a source who wishes to remain unknown—"
"Malfoy?" Harry interrupted before he could stop himself.
Dumbledore wasn't too bothered by the interruption, but nodded. "Well, the source wishes to remain unknown, though your guessing is somewhat impeccable." The headmaster used a finger to stroke the bottom of Fawkes' beak and neck. "But as I was saying, I was notified that last night you threw yourself off the astronomy tower?"
MALFOY! Harry was absolutely enraged that Draco had come to Dumbledore about this.
The boy stuttered a bit, trying to explain himself. He mouthed wordlessly, "I slipped?"
"Mr. Potter, I view this dilemma very seriously. This is no time for joking. I am not new to the world, and though I am quite aged, I, too, was a teenager at one time. It is my intention to help you or any of my students in any way I can, and you clearly need help. Also, though I was a teenager once, I do realize that you are not to be stereotyped as the stereotyped teenager, because your life involves events and trials far beyond even the imaginations of many people, and though this makes you unique, it quite obviously makes you vulnerable as well. So I think we should start by getting to the bottom of this. What exactly is on your mind at this very moment, Harry? The weather? An exam? A girl? Anything at all. I believe it is our feelings that often shape how we feel on the inside, so if you can convey your feelings to me, I think I may be able to help you get through this critical moment and stage in your life." Dumbledore then summoned two chairs facing each other with a wave of his wand and sat down on the one nearest him.
The headmaster motioned to Harry to sit, but Harry did not. "Help me get through this?" Harry said a bit more nastily than he had meant. "With all due respect, headmaster, you have no idea what it is that I'm going through!"
"Harry, please sit down," Dumbledore said again, calm as ever. "I remember a few months ago Ms. Granger came to me because she was worried about your physical and mental conditions, and now I am truly sorry I did not pay more heed to her thoughts. And I know that you truly feel the weight of the world on your shoulders, but you cannot just drop the whole thing right away. I agree that it is an unfair life you must deal with, but we each must function with what we've been given." Harry was about to say something again, but then Dumbledore cut him short. "Suicide is not the answer. It is the most wrong and stupid of all possible choices and answers."
"Headmaster, I know this whole—this whole lecture that you've planned out for me is based on a concern passed on to you from Draco Malfoy, but please use evidence from past experiences. How often has that particular Slytherin been right about anything? More particularly, anything about me? We're from two different worlds, and entertainment on a boring day for him is to see me get into trouble. It's insulting to me that you won't believe that I honestly slipped! I slipped! It was cold and it had rained earlier that night—"
"At two in the morning," Dumbledore said quietly.
"I slipped!" Harry shrieked.
"Very well," Dumbledore said in a sad voice. "You are dismissed, Mr. Potter, but please keep in mind that when you're ready to talk, I will be ready to listen."
Harry felt badly for lying to Dumbledore, but who on earth admits to committing suicide? Now that he was reflecting on the whole thing, it did seem rather stupid. Of course, when one gets caught doing something against the rules or out of the ordinary, it is normal to feel foolish.
The boy sighed, nodded, and walked out of Dumbledore's office, down the spiral staircase, and off to the Gryffindor dormitory.
The problem was, Harry Potter was not a normal boy. He never was, and never would be. Everyone knew that much, and though remembering how closely he had danced with Death the night before sent shivers up and down his spine, he could not help but wonder why fate was so twisted for him. It was as if Death was his dance partner, for he had tangoed with it so many times, but was always spared to return for the next tune.
Author's Note: Hooray! The first chapter of the sequel to Do I Not Bleed? Has been published! I hope new and old fans alike enjoyed it. Also, this sequel fic, in no way endorses the Harry/Draco ship… I've always viewed Draco as a very sarcastic character, so to me it made sense to have Draco be snarky and downright rude while Harry obviously felt so awful. Also, DINB was a Draco fic, and Jus Sanguinis (JS) will also be a Draco fic, though it was necessary for this first part to have a lot of Harry in it. So with that said, bring on the reviews!
Chapter Two: It seems the trio might be experiencing a slight bit of tension in their relationships with one another, but while that goes about, Draco and Ginny prepare for their first "date." Seems a tad boring for something I'd write, eh? You just wait.