Title: legatum de maladie

Genre: Romance/Drama/Angst

Pairing: HP/DM

Rating: M

Summary: AU. There was never a boy who lived, only a boy who died.

Draco Malfoy is ill. Harry Potter is a Healer. Lucius Malfoy is desperate. Slash.

Disclaimer: I don't own a thing. It's all the property of J.K Rowling, and this story is being written for entertainment purposes only. Not a dime is being made.

xxxx

Interlude: The Prince of Shadows

Once upon a time, in a far away land, a young Prince lived in a castle whose walls were trimmed with solid gold. The kingdom over which this castle presided was wealthy, and had seen generations come and go without the spoils of conflict. It was a merry, joyful place and all of the king's subjects revered him as they had his father, and his father before him. Alas, not all was well in the kingdom, for the young Prince of whom this tale is written, was very ill indeed.

His malady was unknown, but not for lack of study. The king had hired every physician his country could attest to having, and he sent away to faraway lands for some hope of curing his son of his dreadful disease.

Many years went by, and healers and wizards came from far and wide to try and aid the king in his struggle to save his only child.

But no remedy could be found.

Locked away in the tallest tower, the Prince wept, for he had been told that he would soon die and he had never seen the glory of a sunrise or sunset, or the mystical wonder of a field of stars on a clear summer night. Nay, the Prince had never been out of doors. It had always been deemed far too dangerous for his delicate disposition. He knew these wonders existed because the king had every artist at his disposal, and while paintings of sunrises were all well and good, the Prince thought that with his impending death an unstoppable reality, he ought to be given the chance to see such splendors for himself.

So it was that he snuck from the castle while its citizens were in mourning. A great festival had been planned to celebrate the life of the Prince, but he had not been invited. Instead, he slipped away from the steady iron bars and stone walls that had imprisoned him for the entirety of his life, and vanished into the wild.

After trekking many miles, the young Prince's body wore out on him, for he was not used to such things as exercise. Gasping for breath, he sat down upon a stone and drank deeply from his water skin. At that time, the hour was late, and the stars had come awake from their pleasant slumber and thrown off their fluffy white bedding. They blinked down upon the young Prince gaily, and he smiled as his heart filled with joy to see them glitter and dance for him. He clapped merrily, and if he strained his delicate ears, he swore he could hear them sing. So this was what life was? He allowed his eyes to close as his travel worn bones announced their displeasure. Surely a short rest would not hurt?

As he slept, the stone upon which he had lain began to speak to him in quiet, low tones. For everyone knows humans cannot understand the language of stones when they are awake, because their heads are too full with nonsense to hear the quiet murmur of their rock tongues. The story the stone told him was a very dark one indeed.

Long ago, when the Prince's father had been young, an evil mage from lands afar had come and declared war on the kingdom. Desperate to spare the lives of his innocent people, and knowing that his resources could not handle the trials of war, the king begged the mage for a truce. An alliance had to be scored between them to ensure the livelihood of his citizens. The evil mage and the king had struck a fragile bargain, but the king was ever weary of the mage and his dark magic.

Then one day, a delegation from a neighboring kingdom arrived to discuss the trade routes that had existed between the two realms for centuries. They had with them a young Prince and his mentor, a great sorcerer. The delegates were aghast to learn that the king had reached a truce with the evil mage, and declared that they would not do business with a kingdom allied with such evil.

The king, desperate to hold on to his connections, broke down and begged the Prince and his sorcerer to help him. Betraying his fragile alliance, the king made up a plan with the Prince and sorcerer to destroy the evil mage once and for all.

With his last breath, the mage cursed the king and all that would follow in his line with a terrible legacy. No child born of the king's family line would live the years the fates had deigned to give them without incurable agony. The souls of these children he forever bound to himself, so that they may be caged on the precipice between Earth and Hell for all eternity, and that their bodies would become frail without them.

The stone told the young Prince this tale of woe, explaining away the malady that had plagued the young one for so many years. When the Prince awoke, he was weaker than he'd ever been, and he knew in his heart that this was to be his last day alive. He patted the stone in thanks and gingerly removed himself from his camp.

He wandered throughout the morning, taking in as many sights as he could with his tired eyes. At last, the despair of his impending doom settled in his heart, and he cried out: "Would there be some hope for my soul!" He sank to his knees by a silver pond and wept.

Hours passed him by and his breath came in weary pants as his lifeblood began to slow its trek through his veins. The darkness was looming around him, threatening to claim him within its grasp. He whimpered in terror, and tried to seek the soothing sparkle of the stars overhead. He listened intently as the wind picked up and began to toss the water in the pond over its minor banks. "Listen child," the wind called to him. "Your time is almost lost, but it is not gone. Listen carefully now."

The Prince was at a loss. Last night a stone had told him of his fateful past, and now the wind was whispering his future. "The answer you seek is in the shadows, young one. Do not fear them. Surrender to them, and you will find your salvation." The wind caressed his sweaty brow and the Prince sighed and forced his body to relax. One by one, the stars winked out, and the blackness claimed him for eternity…

But that is not where the story ends, no.

For in allowing the darkness to claim him, the Prince ultimately discovered his salvation, and that of an entire bloodline that would rise after him.

Selia, blind goddess of night had heard the Prince's calls, and to stave off her boredom had deigned to help him. "Not all darkness is evil in intent," She admonished the Prince. "The evil that has chained you cannot be undone with keys of light. Poisoned you are, and only with the blood of evil, may the first evil be undone."

The prince stammered, bowed at the goddess's feet. "But they teach that two wrongs do not a right make."

The goddess laughed, and the sound was not melodic and sweet, but bitter and thick as black smoke. "They have taught wrong."

…………