Disclaimer: Not mine.
One
thing, I don't know why
Doesn't
even matter how hard you try
Keep
that in mind I designed this rhyme
To
remind myself how I tried so hard
Despite
of the way you were mocking me
Acting
like I was part of your property
Remembering
all the times you fought with me
I'm
surprised it got so far
Things
aren't the way they were before
You
wouldn't even recognize me anymore
Not
that you knew me back then
But
it all comes back to me in the end
You
kept everything inside and even though I tried it all fell apart
What it meant to
me will eventually be a memory of a time when
-Crawling (In My Skin)- Linkin Park
time turns fragile, break the glass
issalee
Harry was sure that it never rained so hard before.
He liked to pretend that it was because of his recent betrayal, and then the idea was always quickly shrugged off. If Tynan heard his thinking, she'd laugh and call him a dreamer, and then hand out more things for him to do.
These days all he wanted to do was think.
How, he wondered, was he going to go about killing Draco and the others? He'd lure them in with Ron, maybe, and then kill them off slowly until Draco was the only one left. He'd take away the attachment the both of them shared, and then kill the Malfoy heir. Then everything would work out, and he could relax.
Harry frowned. His dark and shrouded green eyes scanned the room. Genevieve and Luna were his constant companions, never straying more than a room away. He found he didn't mind. Luna barely talked, and Genevieve besides was used to his habits by now. When he wasn't in a talking mood, she'd regale him with tales of her past, some things that made him laugh and others so dark he had to smile.
"Harry," she said now, "where's the redhead?"
Luna sat up slightly from the loveseat she had been laying on, placing her chin in her hands and smiling a little. "Do tell, Harry. I was talking to him, and when he doesn't want to ask questions he's great company."
"Don't talk to him," Harry frowned at the window. "I don't know what I'm going to do about him. Tynan's letting him wander around from time to time, but Tidget is watching him to make sure he doesn't do anything."
"We shouldn't keep prisoners," Genevieve mumbled. "They're too awkward around the house." She shook her head when Harry turned to say something. "Yes, I know, he can be used for a hostage. But it's still troubling, is all. Have you ever watched Muggle movies, Harry?"
He nodded.
"Well, don't the hostages always foil the plot in the end, even if they die?"
"And how do you know so much about Muggles?" Harry said, smiling wryly. "Forget them, Genevieve. Muggles, hostages, everything. For now, before I have to do my part, I'd just like to relax."
"You're a very lazy prince," Luna said as she settled back down, blinking owlishly. "All you ever do is say you want to relax, and then you get that brooding look on your face. Like you're about to strike at someone."
"Here's a question," Harry said, "how do you like your new soul?"
Tynan had, under Harry's request, returned enough of Luna's soul so that she would not be such a mindless puppet. Bellatrix had been furious, but wisely kept it hidden.
"Odd," Luna shrugged. "I get little glimpses of things, but Tynan's given me a potion to take every night to repress them and strengthen my will a little. I feel stupid taking it."
"Don't stop," Genevieve joked. "We'll have to consider you a hostage as well, then."
"Aren't we all?" Harry said, and then leaned back. "But it doesn't matter anyways. What's the news on Hogwarts?"
"Nothing. Dumbledore's gone mad trying to keep it running smoothly, but I heard the redhead's family's near overrun it trying to find out how to get their children back. And then there's the matter of the Parkinson and Zabini families."
"Taken care of," Harry said. "The Parkinson and Zabini parents will be called to order a few days from now. I think, in time for our guests on our land to arrive."
"The schoolmates of ours or the unidentified ones?" Luna asked curiously.
"Both," Harry replied. "I really do want to capture those other ones early; whoever they are, they've done a good job of disappearing and reappearing every few days. One of them has got near no magical trace whatsoever."
"Odd," Luna said again.
"I'm hungry, Harry," Genevieve said. "And I'm tired of boring old castle food and I want to go out and play."
"You sound like a child," the raven-haired boy returned coldly. Genevieve and Luna automatically stiffened. Harry's mood had been one of his best since he had turned to Tynan's side, but the formal, frigid prince was back.
"Get the house-elf and get your food, idiot," he said, and then slumped a little. "And ask him to bring Tynan while he's at it."
"What for?" Luna asked him.
" 'What for'?" Harry mocked her. "For something. You'll find out soon enough anyways, I can't be rid of you."
"And what's brought on your little mood swing?" Luna said irritably. Harry growled at her, and Genevieve stood suddenly, clapping her hands.
"Well," she said brightly. "Luna, I do believe you haven't taken your potion tonight, shall we get going?"
Harry smirked and a soft laugh escaped him. "You two jump too much. Forget Tynan. I want the encounter to speed up a little—Luna, you're right."
"I am?"
Harry stood up, and grabbed his cloak from off the seat next to him. The dark black would hide him effectively in the shadows, along with the rough black dragonhide his boots were made of and the whole black outfit.
"Let's go meet them," he said, and Genevieve jumped up in the air, punching it in silent triumph.
"What should I wear?" she said, and her outfit fizzled into a tight leather cat suit. "Sexy reconnaissance mission or—" here her outfit changed into a baggy shirt with bell sleeves and baggy pants that spilled into boots. "—messy vixen who fights with the guys?"
Luna laughed. "How about a normal dress? Look a little elegant, stupid, we're going to meet these people as rulers."
"Oh, you're right…" Genevieve said, nodding her head. "So does that mean the cat suit or what?"
In the woods, the group straggled along. Blaise was constantly with Ginny, who had turned rather wraith-like, and Hermione, who hadn't spoken since Ron had been taken. Pansy glanced worriedly at all of them from time to time; she, who really had no attachments besides Draco and Blaise, was the least affected. She'd done her mourning for Theodore.
"How much longer, do you think?" she asked the weary blond.
"No idea," he muttered. "Now I'm just hoping for shelter." There were dark circles under his eyes, and his wings dragged on the ground behind him; he was too tired to bring them back.
"This was a bad idea," Pansy said sadly.
"Better than not doing anything, right?" Draco looked up towards the sky. "I think it's starting to rain again."
"How do you—" Pansy stopped as the light pitter-pattering of raindrops permeating the treetops, and seconds later, a rainfall was upon them. "Oh. The Urian in thee," she said as poetically as possible.
"This is pathetic," Draco said. "I was late. I should have felt that ages ago."
"Shut up," Pansy hit him lightly. "First you'll get mad over predicting the future wrong, and then you'll end up like Trelawney."
"Six feet under?"
"Don't speak ill of the dead, Draconis."
Draco could tell she was amused, though, and smiled a little. It turned into a grimace as he winced and stumbled. "I need to feed," he said softly.
"Yeah, I think we all noticed that." For a moment, it looked like Pansy was going to cry, but then she shook her head and sniffled instead. "There are gonna be a lot of regrets after this one. I don't think we'll stand so tall after this?"
"When you get your foot cut off, normally you're a little lopsided."
Pansy laughed. "You're such a Pureblood."
Even Draco had to crack a smile at that. It was silent for a moment longer before he took a light sniff at the air. Pansy looked at him, worried. "What is it?"
Draco wiped the damp curls of hair away from his face, sniffed again and then shrugged. "Nothing. For a moment, I thought I smelled perfume."
"No," Blaise suddenly appeared next to them. "I smell it too. And do you hear something?"
"Perfect," Draco muttered, and turned around. "Granger, Ginny, I want you to stay behind me at all times. Pansy, you watch them and our left. Blaise, take the right. And you two, while you're behind me, watch what's going on there, okay?"
They all nodded and got into their positions. Draco's wings lifted slightly, enough so that the tops could come inward to form a sort of canopy over the heads of the girls. Ginny looked up and smiled.
"Show-off," she said lightly, and Draco smirked.
"What was that?"
Remus blinked and looked up at his friend. They were sitting in the canopy of a tree, safe from the rain but both tired from the mad dash to get there in time.
"What do you mean?"
The man gestured towards the leaves behind them. "I thought I heard something—and smelled something. Nice perfume, I think."
Remus sniffed the air. "I smell it too," he admitted. "Never before, though."
There was a rustling noise. Remus started, and then drew out his wand. "I'll check," he said. The man touched his shoulder lightly.
"Be careful, Re," he said.
Remus smiled, and stood. Shakily, he made his way along the inner trunk of the tree and towards the leaves. The branches were moving still, making a louder noise now, and he could see flashes of black in between them. Suddenly, something shot past him, barely grazing his cheek. Remus cried out in surprise and fell back, just as the other man came around the trunk.
It took a moment for Remus to regain his senses, but when he did, it was to see his friend pointing and shaking with silent laughter.
From the bushes, an indignant mother owl and her chicks glared at him and the offending magpie they'd just chased away. In between them was a bright purple flower, unfurling slowly to send more of its strong scent their way.
Someone laughed and Draco started, just as Pansy tripped. He turned around automatically, and felt Blaise tighten next to him.
"Are you okay?" he started to say, and then stopped when he saw that Pansy was getting up and shaking her head slowly. She wrapped her hands around her ankle and grit her teeth.
"I think I sprained it," she told him.
"Wonderful," Blaise said, and kneeled. "Draco, we've got to stop now. We can't leave her and she can't walk."
"I wasn't protesting,' Draco complained, but relaxed anyway. "I'll get some herbs or something, you can sort them out later."
"You'll do no such thing," Pansy said, "I'll—" she stopped abruptly and her hand fluttered to her stomach. She winced, and then slumped against the ground.
"Pansy!" Draco took a step forward, and then stopped. Blaise had turned around and was trying to stand up, but he couldn't seem to force himself to do it. His eyelids were drooping, and when Draco looked at the Gryffindors, a slow fog was creeping in around them and they too were looking sleepy.
"Stay awake," he said desperately. "Please stay awake!"
There was a loud laugh again, and a figure wrapped in black dropped into view in front of them, jolting them from their groggy states.
"Well, well, well," the figure said. "A Malfoy begging? I've never heard of such a thing."
The voice was familiar, Draco thought as his eyes narrowed. There was no magical trace coming from this person, and yet there was a pull coming from him. Draco moved back as though he wanted to rid himself of it.
The laugh came again, and the girl who had taken Ron appeared in front of them, dressed in a magnificent red velvet dress and with a circlet around her head. She looked gaily at them, and smiled.
"Hello," she said brightly. "Remember me?"
"Unfortunately," Blaise said loudly.
"Oh, me too?" A third person moved out from behind the first figure, and this one was hidden by a light blue cloak. She pulled at it, revealing golden curls and aloof, cold eyes. "Hello, Draconis."
"Luna?" the confused blond said. "Is that you?"
Luna tugged self-consciously on one of the curls and looked at a loss. Genevieve glanced at her and rolled her eyes. "For—move, stupid!" she hissed. "Don't tell me you really didn't take your potion!"
"Shut up," Luna said, and then she turned to the group, who had watched the familiar exchange with bewilderment. "Come with us quietly or we take you by force."
"Luna, you're joking, right?" Ginny took a step forward. "Listen to me, they've got Ron, and—"
"Can we please kill them this time?" Genevieve stepped back to the first figure, which was unfastening the top part of his cloak. The hood fell off to reveal the cold green eyes, the messy black hair and the pale, pale face.
"Harry?" Draco whispered.
The cruel smile had fixed itself on his face. "The one and only," the former Gryffindor said. "I'm afraid that I'm with your aunt now, Draconis. Wish me luck as I take over the world?"
"You bastard—" and to everyone's surprise, Hermione flew forward, arms out and hands intent on wrapping themselves around Harry's throat. "I hope you burn in Hell!"
He raised a hand and she stopped in mid air, body relaxing and falling quickly. Hermione's body was still, except for the shallow, ragged breaths she took with clear difficulty.
Harry, however, did not have time to block Blaise's sudden attack on him, nor Ginny's quick follow-up. The two had grabbed both of his arms and dragged him to the ground. Harry snarled and wrenched away, viciously smacking Blaise in the back of his head and watching with grim satisfaction as the dark-haired boy slumped. Ginny, with eyes cold and furious, wrapped her hands around his neck.
"How could you?" she hissed, shaking violently. Harry grabbed her hands, squeezing, and she winced but never relinquished her hold. As Harry's vision began to dim, Ginny screamed and suddenly let go.
Genevieve jumped on top of her and began to scratch violently at her face with her nails, which had grown into claws.
"Don't you dare touch him!" she screamed, as Ginny began to wail hysterically. "Don't you dare don't you dare don't you DARE!"
"Stop!" Harry sat up and winced; Blaise had ripped his sleeved and Ginny had left deep marks in his neck, as well as a wound in his back he probably had gotten when he fell in his lower back. Luna was kneeling next to him, but she was useless. Her blue eyes were wide as she surveyed her surroundings, and one pale hand was covering her mouth.
"Genevieve!" Harry stood up, swaying. He could feel Draco's eyes on him, saw as the Urian tried to get close but was repelled, both by Genevieve's claws and his urge not to hurt Ginny.
By now the redhead was bleeding profusely, and somehow Pansy had woken up. She too hobbled upwards, leaning against the tree and screaming as the color left her face. Harry tried to cover his ears. The noise around him was deafening.
"Mummy!" Luna's high voice had joined the fray. Harry automatically took a step towards her; they were bound, he remembered, but he was bound to Genevieve too. He broke into a run, grimacing as he felt the blood running down his back, and he tripped on top of Genevieve.
She shrieked, and he saw she was crying as she held onto him. "Don't—don't hurt Harry," she sobbed. "Please don't hurt Harry." He wrapped one arm around her, and looked at Ginny, whom Draco had immediately dragged away.
The two boys locked eyes, and Harry could just barely make out the fury in Draco's clouded eyes. He made as if to get up, but apparently it had been a pretty big lesion in his back. He looked back and rolled his eyes; underneath the spot where he had previously lain was an upturned boulder, sharp as an arrow, and glistening with blood that was being swept off by the rain.
There was still too much noise, he thought, as he tried to stand up again and failed miserably. Genevieve noticed and wiped her face as she stood, supporting him. Luna, who had probably felt his pain, was stumbling towards them, still mumbling under her breath. Harry felt his circlet fall a little, and he pushed it up. Draco noticed.
"You've been crowned," he said flatly. Harry wondered if the blond noticed the slight lilt in his voice that suggested he was too weak to do anything, or the way he looked; pale, and gaunt. The princeling felt a sting of some unknown emotion and shrugged it off.
"So?" Harry said offhandedly, and then changed the subject, "Have you surrendered yet or what?"
Draco growled and lurched forward unexpectedly. For some reason, Harry panicked and threw his two sovereigns behind him. They fell to the ground and watched anxiously as Draco flew on top of Harry, fingers getting caught in the dark hair and words garbled as the two of them yelled at each other.
"How could you do that?" Draco spat, attempting desperately to untangle his fingers from Harry's hair. "Don't do this, Harry! This is what you didn't want me to do!"
"Well, thanks for leaving the offer open to me!" Harry bit out. Draco's eyes widened momentarily before he managed to free his fingers, and he punched Harry with so much force the both of them stopped struggling and stared at each other.
Harry felt the blood running down his jaw, and he wished he could cry right now, but he couldn't allow that. He felt nauseous as he tasted the metallic tang, and a hate so great he could barely stand it rose up in him.
"I hate you," he said. "I hope you die, and I hope it's a slow, painful death and that I'm the on that kills you!"
Draco's grip loosened, and at first Harry thought it was from the shock, but then the blond slumped and his hands moved to place themselves upon Harry's chest. He struggled to breathe, and glared groggily at Harry.
"You're—you're evil, Potter," he said, almost disbelievingly. His eyes rolled up in the back of his head and he sagged, passing out immediately. Harry didn't move, even when there was the crack that announced a powerful Apparation and Tynan appeared, Lucius and Bellatrix behind her.
Lucius picked Draco up off him with his mouth drawn in a tight line, as though he were trying desperately to not to remember something vile. Luna and Genevieve were at Harry's side instantaneously, both of them looking miserable and worried for him.
"Stupid," Tynan said as she kicked Hermione's prone form. "Some people are such idiots." She looked at Harry meaningfully, and nodded to Bellatrix, who had been casting longing glances at Luna.
"How did you find us?" Harry asked instead. He had masked the area well, hadn't he?
"I killed the Zabini mother and father today," she said airily. "And the Parkinsons have been effectively detained. I swear, Karl Zabini is better off dead. But I was making sure they were rid of effectively and I heard the noise; you didn't soundproof the area, darling."
Harry nodded absently, and dredged up a thought. "Didn't they have other children besides the two defective ones?"
"Yes," Tynan said, regarding him quietly. "Erick, Ivan, and the youngest one, Sarah. She's a little odd, for my tastes. Too much like Bellatrix; she would die for me, she said."
"Beautiful," Harry said, and then passed out.
Tynan rolled her eyes. "Luna, Genevieve, I want you to pick him up and take him out of here. We've caught some other unexpected visitors. I suspect when Harry wakes up he'll be interested in them."
"Yes, Tynan," they chorused and lifted Harry up.
In a moment, the forest was quiet once more.
Harry thumbed idly through the book he had been brought by Genevieve, looking bored for all the world to see. But he was watching his two sovereigns from the corners of his eyes; their moods had changed magnificently.
Three days after the attack, Luna seemed on the edge of breaking down, and was even more quiet and withdrawn. She was starting to look pale, too, and he was worried about her. Genevieve was behind him, changing his bandages and chattering nervously. She was never sure of herself anymore after the collapse she'd suffered in the forest, and the unexpected display of emotion had been frightening for her.
Everything was quiet, as though no one was sure of what they were supposed to do. Harry suddenly felt a pang of guilt, which was quenched so quickly he could barely believe it had been there; Nestea had been stepping carefully around him ever since he had been crowned, and now she barely spoke to him after this incident. She never dared to raise her eyes; either for fear of him or what he'd see in them, he didn't know.
"…and then my mother would laugh and tell me that most men were worth nothing," Genevieve said as she cleanly cut through the bandage. Harry's body always rejected the spells cast on him; it was tedious when he was injured, but he supposed it was a price that would soon leave when Draco was out of the picture as well.
"There," the succubus patted his back. "And now we've got nothing much more to do but sit here and wait for news."
"Of what?" Luna asked, and then clutched at her forehead, wincing. Whenever she talked, it seemed like she was repressing something at the same time.
"Don't say anything," Harry said softly. He felt uncomfortable whenever he said something nice though; it became more and more like a weight on his shoulder when he was in anything but one of his dark moods, so he lowered his tone an octave and narrowed his eyes. "Your voice is getting on my nerves."
But he saw the way both Luna and Genevieve relax; they knew they couldn't deal with this side of him. This was what they reveled in, probably; the randomness of it all.
The door opened suddenly, and Tynan walked in, trailing a chain behind her. "Harry," she said softly, "we've got some visitors."
Draco shuffled in, looking unbelievably weary. His hands were manacled as was his throat, and he seemed to be having trouble merely staying awake. Behind him, his wings trailed forlornly, feathers falling and some hanging by their ends.
"What's he doing here," Genevieve began, but Harry sat up quickly and stopped her with a raised hand. Tynan arched an eyebrow.
"He's here because I don't want him to die yet, and he is still attached to Harry and all this rejection business I killing him."
"Damn," Genevieve said, and sulked. Luna, however, got to her feet and took a step towards Draco before crumpling to the floor. A soft gold hue slowly spread around her body and she began to whimper.
"Excellent," Tynan said, and discarded the chain in Genevieve's hands before walking over and picking up the unconscious girl effortlessly. "Harry, keep watch over him. Oh, and I'm breaking Rabastan out in a few days, so don't expect to see me."
"Yes, Mother," Harry replied tonelessly, and stared at Luna's prone form. "What's happening to her?"
"She has Seer blood and it's finally awakened," Tynan said. "Harry, don't come out of this room until I send Tidget in, okay?"
He didn't even get a chance to reply before Luna was gone.
There was silence in the room, and then Genevieve jerked at Draco's chain. The blond stumbled and fell; he was wearing the same clothes he had been wearing when he left Hogwarts; his Pureblood clothing, although now it was ripped and tattered and bloodstained. Harry looked at it distastefully.
"Don't do that again," he muttered to Genevieve, and slipped off the high desk he had been sitting on. "Tidget!"
The house-elf appeared, bowing to him and Genevieve and shooting Draco an ugly glare. "Yes, Master, Mistress?"
"Get some food," Harry said. "Anything. And don't take forever trying to make it nice, I don't care."
"Yes, Master."
"And," he said, after a moment's hesitation. "Bring the prisoner some new clothes. Tell Nestea to come in with them so she can dress him, and something to wash him with too."
"Yes, Master."
Genevieve watched disbelievingly, and then dropped the chain and flounced away. Harry watched her go and raised his eyes as he called her name softly. She topped and turned around.
"Come here," he said, and when she was in front of him he smiled, though it was strained. "It's not going to change anything," he said. "He's not going to change anything."
"Yeah," Genevieve said. "Because we're still friends, aren't we?" This time she didn't come back when he called her name, and she disappeared into the adjoining room, fuming.
The room was silent again, and then Draco spoke. "Who was it," he said quietly, "that once told me they were afraid of forgetting everything?"
Harry turned and stared at him, eyes narrowing dangerously.
"Someone else," he said. "Someone else who obviously didn't know what they were talking about."
The cells were small; seven paces across and four paces wide. Hermione looked down her nose at the dirty straw and cold, dripping walls; a little uniform for such a unique character, she thought angrily.
Ginny, she hadn't seen since they brought her down the cell hallways still soaked in blood. "Let me help her!" Hermione had screamed. No one had said anything back to her.
Pansy, she knew, had been detained near her parents; close enough to know they were there, but her parents would have to scream to talk to her, and no one had enough energy to scream in these dungeons.
Hermione had been both surprised and slightly unsure of herself when she saw Ron was in the cell across from her; but he had barely reacted when he saw them there. She could see him now; curled up on his side, chest rising and falling, barely moving except for when they brought his food. He was called out of the cells often, and when he came back he seemed more withdrawn.
Hermione didn't have to be a genius to know what they were doing. The one person whose loyalty in Harry was the most firm; who would never doubt his best friend, even if they did get into arguments; she remembered Ron in fourth year, during the Goblet of Fire incident.
He had been angry, yes, and he had doubted Harry then. But never had it totally consumed him. She remembered hearing from Dean and Seamus and Neville that sometimes he had woken up and started for Harry's bed, smile already on his face before it faded and he forced himself to turn around and walk away.
Ron couldn't live without Harry, that much was obvious, and she had once believed it was the same the other way around.
Blaise was on her other side, but he didn't speak much. She supposed he was worried about Draco; who had been still and pale when they had last seen him being dragged out of the dungeons, eyes closed and breathing fitfully.
She didn't want to think about the other two she had seen. Remus and—she couldn't even believe it. She prayed desperately it was an illusion because she wasn't sure if either she nor Harry nor anyone else who knew him would be able to stand seeing him again, especially Harry, and she hoped frantically that they would never bring him to face Harry.
That was all she could do, in her tiny seven by four pace cell, as she stared at the dirty straw and fingered her hair, matted with sweat and dried blood.
She missed Harry so much it ached, and she missed Ron too. She crawled up to the bars, and carefully, so as not to alert the guards, raised her voice to speak.
"Ron," she called softly. "I know you probably don't want to talk to me, but listen. I know about the girl; it was that one that took you, the succubus, Genevieve. I get it, Ron. The curse didn't do anything but strip her of some of her demoness inheritance. It's okay, Ron, and I'm—so sorry I doubted you. Friends don't doubt friends, Ron, and I want so badly to be friends with you again."
Across the cell, Ron shifted a little, and then fell back into his steady breathing pattern, even if it was a little sharper. He was crying, Hermione could tell.
She crawled farther into the cell and dropped into the straw, tilting her head so she could stare up at the damp ceiling, pressing her fist to her mouth and ignoring the dirty taste.
The dungeons echoed with the sounds and sorrows of a thousand hurts, and no one could stand it all.
Harry opened the door when there was a knock on it, and he didn't acknowledge Nestea at all but to point her in the general direction of Draco's whereabouts. He went back to the duvet he was curled up on, eating his food and brooding silently.
Nestea approached the dirty, ragged boy she had heard was taken prisoner, and lifted his face to hers. Her breath caught in her throat, and she saw Draco's eyes sharpen unexpectedly.
Carefully, she took her wand from her apron pocket, and watched with hidden amusement as Draco's eyes wandered down to her stomach and he stiffened. Nestea straightened and turned around.
"Your Majesty," she said, avoiding his eyes, "might you please leave the room? I'm going to wash him, and—it might be better if you aren't here. And Genevieve might need some comforting, too."
Harry regarded her, eyes flat and opaque. He was obviously thinking hard about something. "I'm going for a walk," he muttered.
"But you can't leave," Nestea said, feeling the panic rise in her stomach. "The prisoner—"
"I get it," Harry said sharply. He stood up, glaring irately at the both of them. "I just don't want to have to deal with her so soon. And I won't go far, just to my room to get a few things. Don't tell Mother."
"Mother?" Draco said, before he could stop himself.
Harry's gaze swept over him. "You should keep your mouth shut," he said coldly. The dark-haired princeling snatched up his cloak and left, slamming the door loudly behind him.
Nestea breathed a sigh of relief, and went back to cleaning Draco's face methodically, wiping away the dirt and grime with patience and a gentle touch.
"Who are you?" he asked, after a moment of silence.
The maid smiled. "No one but a guardian angel."
"Don't play that game with me."
"What game?" Nestea spelled his clothes off, and Draco jumped, suddenly grateful for his wings, which had come alive enough with Harry's presence to spring forward and cover him as he blushed.
"Don't do that so suddenly!" he snapped.
"Sorry," she said, but she didn't look sorry as she sent a rush of water to rain on his head. Draco spluttered indignantly, and then regretted it as she sent a particularly rough blast of hot air to dry off his wings and body.
By the time she was done, he was dry, but sore. Nestea gave him a thoughtful look, before she conjured up bandages and wrapped them around him using a simple charm. As she trimmed the edges of his hair (watching in fascination as it immediately grew back, albeit a little longer) she spoke softly to him.
"You must forgive Harry, he's not exactly…sure of what he's doing. Don't move too much, there's ointment in those bandages to help you heal naturally but only just enough."
"What do you mean," Draco said, grunting a little as the bandages tightened, "he's not sure of what he's doing? He seemed pretty sure to me, and I felt nothing but free will radiating off of him."
Nestea looked down busying herself with the task of summoning clothing for him. "I'm not at liberty to say," she said softly. "But here! These clothes are quite nice!"
Draco looked at them. The same black leggings he would normally wear at home, but with chunky boots that ended a few scant inches below his knee, a long sleeved white undershirt that was tight on him, and a tunic to wear over it. Nestea clucked over him a few times, arguing and eventually giving into his request for boxers to wear underneath, and a normal black robe to wear over that. She eyed his wings warily.
"Those don't fold back?" She was obviously restraining herself from touching them, and he shook his head.
"No, and don't try to touch them, either."
Nestea looked a little hurt, but then she smiled widely. "There, that's my work done." She glanced worriedly at the door. "But Harry's not back yet…oh, I hope he hasn't run off."
"I would've felt it," Draco said automatically, and then winced.
Nestea looked at him. There was suddenly a change to her, as though she seemed wearier somehow. "You've been through a lot, haven't you? Your father, your mother, your mate, your friends…your whole life is being uprooted."
"You hesitated on mother."
Nestea didn't say anything. Draco looked at her, face emotionless. "I noticed you looked a lot like me when you were washing my face. Even more so, you look like my mother."
"I am a Malfoy," Nestea said, turning her face unconsciously. Draco eyed the icy blue eyes and golden hair. He shook his head.
"You aren't. I can tell." At her shocked look, he elaborated. "My father had me make sure I knew how to tell the difference. Malfoys don't have blue eyes; they have gray ones. And even if they did darken to gray, no Malfoy has had actual blond hair. It always lightens to this shade of light, light blond, like silver."
Nestea didn't say a word, and he took a step towards her, forcing her to meet his eyes as he pushed her head up using her chin. "Who are you, really? He demanded.
Instead of answering, she started to cry.
The students were being sent home again; all packed away and leaving, maybe for the last time. They had been here this long only because everyone had been reluctant to go off school grounds, but now there seemed to be no reason to stay. The teachers were staying, for reasons left unsaid. Dumbledore watched them go, feeling a distinct twinge of sadness before he turned to look at Snape again.
"It is fixed then, Severus?"
The Potions Master nodded. "We'll be able to have the Aurors here in a few days; Tonks will head the expedition."
McGonagall stood; her eyes had turned stony and hard as she looked the two men up and down. "Don't tell me you're just going to leave the school unprotected, Albus! It's still a valuable fortress, no matter what you may think!"
"I'm not going to leave it unprotected," Dumbledore said, eyes shining. "You'll be here, Minerva."
"Albus—"
"No, exceptions will not be made," he said, holding up a hand. "We need someone to remain, and as Severus is not exactly in high favor with anyone else, you are the only one who can remain in active duty."
"Albus," McGonagall said despondently, but it was obvious she could say nothing at all. She hadn't been able to do much; whatever she had been hit with during the attack last winter, it had injured her terribly.
"When will you be back?" she said instead.
Dumbledore glanced Fawkes, who was trilling softly. "Expect me back by the first of August, Minerva. I do, after all, not intend to leave you to sort out what we will be doing for this new school year by yourself."
"It's the twenty-first of July already, Albus," McGonagall said quietly. "Don't tell me you're going to stay that long."
"I've decided to take Harry someplace exotic when we celebrate his birthday," he said, laughing softly. "Anyways, it would be better if we could send the Weasleys home as well. Talk to them for me, Minerva, please. Molly listens to me, but not when it concerns her children. A woman's touch might be more—experienced, I daresay, in a situation such as this."
McGonagall smiled, but it disappeared quickly as the fireplace flickered and swirled. Slowly, a head emerged.
One of the twins, Fred or George Weasley, peered anxiously around the office space. McGonagall was instantly at the fireplace's side, stern mask slipped firmly in place.
"What are you doing, using a private Floo connection?" she demanded. "Mr. Weasley, this is a very serious offence!"
"But I've got a reason," Fred or George protested.
"Oh, and what might that be?" McGonagall folded her hands across her chest, glaring irritably at the child.
But the twin did not seem fazed. He glanced back in the fire and licked his lips. "The Ministry's going crazy, and Dad told me to use this way to get at the Headmaster. Fred's been hit with something and is at St. Mungo's, so is Charlie, they were the closest when it happened."
"When what happened, Mr. Weasley?" Snape put in curiously.
"Professor," George said, eyes wide. "Rabastan Lestrange's escaped!"
"There was a lot of smoke around the hallway we were going down," Hughes DeMarcy told Dumbledore as they walked down the Ministry hallways. "Naturally, we stopped and had him go down here."
They stopped, and DeMarcy pointed the charred area in the middle of the hallway, directly across from a door. "Someone crashed through that, screaming bloody murder. And then the Death Eaters started pouring through. We surrounded Lestrange and fired off spells immediately, but we were overwhelmed and by the time someone had arrived, half of them were gone already through Floo, Lestrange with them, and the other half were dead or escaping."
"Were there any prisoners?" Dumbledore asked, looking at the broken remains of several Ministry officials and Death Eaters. Mediwitches were already gathered around, talking in loud and urgent voices.
"None, sir. The one Death Eater we caught wouldn't talk, and later on he just died. We suspect that he had some sort of spell on him that went off when he was captured, although if that's true it's a very old and Dark one."
Dumbledore scanned the area once more, and then strode over to the door. The knob had melted off clearly, and the glass of the window was shattered. "Whose office was this before?"
"Mine, sir," DeMarcy said, embarrassed. "I was leading Lestrange down and had stopped to scout behind us when this happened. I'd been in my office moments before he arrived; the Floo was closed and the fire wasn't open."
"There are ways of Flooing without fire."
"Yes, of course," DeMarcy stuttered. "But it's just that—sir, when they came through, I felt the most amazing burst of magic and I could have sworn I heard chanting. I think there was someone else who stayed in that office, keeping the Floo open and the smoke or whatever it was in that hallway."
"What of your secretary, Mr. DeMarcy?" Dumbledore asked as she took a discreet look around the office. It was of the norm; small, cramped, and messy. Nearly everything inside, though, was burnt to a cinder and most was still smoking terribly.
"She was the one who ran out," DeMarcy said. "She kept screaming about a fire, and she was also the first casualty. Shame, she was a charming girl."
"Yes," Dumbledore said, and looked back at the hallway. "Is that her?"
A young brunette woman with hair past her shoulders and vividly green eyes was laying against the stone walls, mouth still slack and fingers charred. She looked all right otherwise, and Dumbledore eyed her closely before turning to DeMarcy, who was nodding furiously.
"Ah, Headmaster!"
They both turned to see a haggard looking Arthur Weasley sweeping down the hallway. "Thank you, DeMarcy," he said. "Can I see you in my office, Headmaster?"
Dumbledore nodded and muttered his apologies to DeMarcy, who nodded back feebly and returned to the task of relocating visitors.
"Well?" Arthur said, as they all but jogged up to his office. "What do you think, Albus? I've got nothing here, except that they Flooed, but that would be impossible since the connections were closed."
"I have a theory," Dumbledore said as they closed the door. "But I don't think you'll like it. The secretary was a Death Eater, right?"
"She wanted to be," Arthur said disgustedly. "We were having her watched after she was rumored to have been involved with that attack last winter, but nothing turned up. We should have watched her better."
"No, you did fine," Dumbledore said, a little airily. "I don't suppose you found any traces of Floo in the fireplace, did you?"
"Not one," Arthur said, shaking his head sadly. "It was like they'd never used it."
"What if I told you they hadn't?"
Arthur's eyes widened slowly. "If you have something Albus, please share it with me. I need this news desperately, and quickly."
"I believe," Dumbledore said, "that the young secretary was to be put out of the picture soon anyway, and Tynan decided to put her to good use before she died. When I checked the office, I found odd scratches in the corners."
"Normal after a fire, some glass blows up."
"But this wasn't glass," Dumbledore said. "These were runic markings. Four, three, three, six, two. The number of scratches along certain walls and corners in the room, all with a little blood soaked in the center. It would have turned the whole room into a fireplace."
"You mean—"
"She did it," Dumbledore said. "But she didn't know she would still be in it when it happened. I suspected it when I saw her fingers; they were charred, but her body was fine. When she had set the spell, it was already timed and started to go off. She ran out screaming, and they killed her before grabbing Lestrange and Flooing away. That is also why the doorknob melted off."
Arthur shook his head. "Albus, you genius."
Dumbledore leaned back and smiled wanly. "Why, thank you Arthur, I tend to try."
Rabastan stretched lazily as he entered the castle, bowing slightly as he saw Tynan walking towards him. Now that she had a princeling under her arm, he wasn't about to go and tease her—at least, not in public anyway.
"Welcome back, Bast," she said nonchalantly.
"Took you long enough," he muttered. "That cell was too small. It was driving me crazy."
"You already are, though," Tynan said, smiling coldly. "Here, I've got some business to attend to, so can you just find your way to your own room using Tidget? You remember the beast, don't you?"
The house-elf stepped out from behind her and bowed timidly. "Master Lestrange," it said politely. "Master's room is waiting for Master. Master will follow Tidget, please?"
Rabastan glared at Tynan. "Some subtle dismissal techniques you've got there. I suppose it's the girl? What are you going to do with her?"
"She's a Seer," Tynan said, golden bangs falling in front of her eyes. "It wouldn't do to leave her power untapped. I may have the blood in me but I can prophesy because of all the other creatures inside me as well."
"So she's a tool," Rabastan said tonelessly. "And the Potter boy? What about him? What is he to you, then?"
"Somewhat of a surrogate son, you could say," Tynan glanced up the stairs. "Get going, Bast. I think you'll meet someone you might like upstairs—find the room Harry's in first, Tidget."
She turned and walked away, waving a hand as she went. Rabastan watched her go with a smile on his face; Merlin, that girl could sashay…
He schooled his features into an emotionless mask again and reveled in the feel of freedom. It was still a little stuffy, but he ignored it in favor of following the house-elf up the stairs.
He stopped in front of the door, and waved an airy hand to show the house-elf it could leave. Rabastan watched as Tidget disappeared impassively. He'd always hated that house-elf. It knew too many secrets for its own good and was always getting too involved in things.
He contemplated knocking and then decided that would just be too much trouble. Without another thought he opened the door and stepped in, closing it quickly behind him.
The two people he saw in there had his eyes widening dramatically.
Luna writhed on the dusty floor of the dimly lit room, eyes wide and clothing ripped. She had screamed herself hoarse only a few days ago, and she wasn't about to totally lose her voice.
Bellatrix was standing silently on one side of the room, her appointed guard until this whole mad ordeal was over. Tynan had left to go get more ingredients for her—whatever it was she was doing. Luna had lost all hope of attempting to keep the facts straight.
As far as she knew, she had been dragged into this room and something like a pentacle had been drawn around her. Flickering candles outlined the edges of the white chalk, and Luna still only saw red.
Her vision clouded over again and she moaned with reluctance. Tinges of blood red seeped in, and she started to cry.
It would be a bloody one, this time.
No.
No.
Nonononono.
She looked around, eyes gleaming with worry. That was Harry's voice. Why was he saying no? What was he refusing?
And then there was blood.
Everywhere, along the edges of the walls of the castle, flooding the yard, and Harry was standing in the middle of it, laughing loudly and screaming to the heavens, Tynan's body hacked down at his side. Genevieve was clinging to his leg, eyes wide and face blood-spattered, but she was otherwise untouched by the red liquid.
She saw herself, kneeling in front of the mad Harry, a gleaming sword and a rusty blade lying side by side in front of her. Draco was there, too. He reached for the old blade, but she knocked his hand aside and grabbed it herself.
No.
No.
Nonononono.
Harry, she tried to say. Harry, why are you crying?
And suddenly he was, and the blood was swept away by pools and pools of his tears and with it came rain, so heavy she was being smothered by it. The swords in front of her were swept away, and her hand, latched to the rusty blade, sped off. She glared at the stump left and stood, swaying slightly before she fell into the rushing river.
Someone caught her.
She could see the sky, the blue, blue sky, and Genevieve running through it, eyes wide and face clear of any darkness. She was blonde and wearing a pinafore, and she was holding someone's hand.
She saw herself again, reaching towards Genevieve, her comrade and her rival, and everything was a sudden, sparkling burst of yellow and blue.
Sunshine dappled the leaves of a forest so bright she couldn't see, and she was momentarily dazzled by the light before she saw Tynan, robed in resplendent red, wandering the woods, hands clutching the once beautiful blonde locks and eyes filled with grief.
"My life," the Malfoy heiress screamed. "My life, my life, my life!"
An ocean grew around them both, and as the tide ebbed away, so did the feeling of exhaustion.
She was plunged into the darkness of her mind once more.
Bellatrix watched as Luna tossed fitfully, eyes open and clouded over, body convulsing. She was, as a Seer, supposed to be given medicine to suppress the amount of visions she would have.
But Tynan did not care.
Tynan had her Seer, and her princeling and everything she could ever want, so she could afford not to care.
Rabastan stared at Draco and Genevieve. The latter had just stopped jumping off and down on the loveseat, face still flaming from her tirade.
"Well," Rabastan said, calm settling back on his face again. "I hadn't expected you to get captured this quickly, Draco. And Genevieve, how nice to see you. Might I ask what you were doing?"
"She was telling me off about touching her Harry," Draco said. He was leaning on the desk, but it was more for support than anything. "Geez, Bast, you'd think you'd be in Azkaban again right now."
"Fat chance," the white-haired man scoffed. The easy camaraderie between him and Draco was nothing of the sort; it was the only thing they could do. Draco could not escape, and he had no reason to attack Rabastan; at least, not yet.
The doorknob turned slowly and clicked open, swinging the door open to admit a hard-eyed Harry. The princeling had already opened his mouth to say something when he spotted Rabastan, and let out an almost feral growl.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
Rabastan cocked his head to the side. "That's not a nice way to put, and hello, Harry."
"It's 'Your Majesty', these days," Harry said just a little bit snobbishly.
"You sure seem a little upset," Rabastan said. "Talked to Tynan?"
Harry's face was suddenly tinted with red. "Don't assume you know me, Rabastan. I want you out of this room, now."
"And if I refuse?"
Harry moved so quickly it was as though he hadn't even taken a step; in a moment, he was letting one arm hang lazily over Rabastan's shoulders, and the other was laid in a controlling grip with the other shoulder.
"If you refuse," he said softly, "then you die."
"Beautiful," Rabastan said, and deftly twisted out of the way, looking totally nonchalant about the entire incident. "Then let's see it."
Harry moved forward again, but this time Rabastan managed to dodge it, and they were both suddenly at each other's throats.
It soon became obvious that they were both excellent at hand-to-hand combat; Draco watched with increased interest. Harry's style was undoubtedly something Tynan had taught him, seeming reminiscent of that which Draco had once been encouraged to try. Harry moved with an almost ethereal fluidity and grace, one that made it seem as though he wasn't even trying to dodge.
Rabastan's style was close, but more rabid and uncontrollable. Every move seemed to be an oxymoron; controlled and furious, where he carefully picked his next blow and yet it was way too wild to have been planned.
Harry moved back and was immediately tripped, falling and rolling away before Bast's boot crunched his nose in. In a moment he was standing, green eyes flaming, black hair mussed and bottom lip bleeding from the fall. A little red seeped from the bandages along his chest, visible because he still hadn't put on a shirt and his cloak lay discarded on the floor.
A bead of sweat slid down Rabastan's face, and he charged again, lashing out with balled fists and watching with a slightly dazed smile as the princeling grinned and dodged, striking with an open palm.
"Cheater," Rabastan said softly as he leaned against the wall. One hand clasped his wounded stomach. "Black magic in an open palm? My, Harry, that's a huge change from when I last saw you."
"Shut up," Harry wheezed, and threw one of rolls of bandages still on the table at him. Rabastan dodged it easily and rolled his eyes.
"Pitiful," he said, and leaned back into his stance, wincing as his stomach bled a little more freely.
Draco, who had been watching the fight intently and restraining himself from leaping in, cringed as well. He coughed, a hacking one that caught the attention of everyone in the room. The blond narrowed his eyes in anger at showing such a weakness and tried to hold them in, but it just made the coughing more hacking and violent.
When he drew a pale, slim hand away, there were specks of blood dotting it. Draco stared for a moment before slumping against the desk and his coughing started up again.
"Idiot," Rabastan hissed, and hobbled over. He tipped the Malfoy's head back and turned to Harry. "Did you finish bonding yet? Before this, I mean. My magic was too weak in Hogwarts to feel anything if you did."
"We didn't," Harry said wryly. "Trust me. Magic or no, I'm supposed to be having a very strong bonding process with him."
"Cute," Rabastan replied shrewdly. "But when did you complete the last step?"
"I don't know," Harry said impatiently. "Before Christmas? Listen, am I still going to kill you or do you want to just leave? What's with all the questions?"
"He's going to die," Rabastan said. Harry nearly shrugged before remembering the passage in the book Ginny had found and read to him.
After The Kiss, an Urian has three to four months in between each bond to complete the next until they are fully finished. If they are not completed, the Urian blood will take it as a rejection and, thinking they failed their mate, they will slowly die.
Harry's eyes narrowed into slits, and they became the opaque pupils he had whenever he was thinking hard about something. Genevieve, who had been silent up until then, flopped onto the couch despondently.
"Great," she said miserably. "Ten days until Harry's birthday, and he's nearly eight months overdue for some sort of crisis. I'm quite proud, actually."
"Shut up," Draco muttered, and then scrambled around to the other side of the desk and retched. Rabastan leaned over to look while he ran his nimble fingers along his body, healing himself as he spoke.
"That's quite a bit of blood. You'll die pretty soon, especially now that your mate is basically constantly rejecting you."
"Thanks for making it all my fault," Harry said dryly as he wrapped his cloak around his body and pressed part of it to his lip to stop the flow of blood.
"It is all your fault," Genevieve murmured into the pillow.
"I thought you were on his side," Rabastan said curiously. The succubus shook her head.
"When he's being sensible. Right now, I just lost a good person to rant to and, also, I knew Draco from a while back. He was okay when he wasn't trying to ruin my whole entire life."
"Didn't you have a crush on him?"
Harry glared irately at the two. "Listen, I am going to go find out what's going on with Luna, then I am going to go find out what I can do about D—the prisoner and then I am going to fucking kill you for making my life so fucking miserable."
But Tynan, as it was, had suddenly become unreachable. Harry, in a foul mood, had retired to the throne room without Genevieve, who was the one who usually frequented it because of all the raucous and loud people and beasts in there.
Luna had returned partway through his absence, limping slightly and with bandages around her hands and forehead.
"Hey, took you long enough," Genevieve said as she pulled lightly at a golden curl. "What did she do to you?"
"Nothing I couldn't handle," Luna said dismissively. Genevieve scoffed, and Luna felt a twinge of annoyance. The girl was, of course, a succubus and thus would know exactly what had happened.
"What'd you See?" the dark-haired girl asked as she picked idly at a loose thread on the couch. "And what can you foretell?"
"It's not the same thing?" Luna asked wearily as she sat down next to her friend slash arch nemesis.
"Of course not," Genevieve said, sitting up slightly. "When you See, it's all a muddle mess of things, right? Well, foretelling is interpreting the mess for what it is, and it comes in bits and snatches. You understand some things right away and others as they come. What did you understand right away?"
Luna was silent for a moment, and her wide blue eyes went glassy. Genevieve was about to change the subject when the other girl finally spoke.
"There will be bloodshed. And people we care about will die."
Genevieve stiffened before relaxing and nodding, dark black curls bobbing as she wrapped a finger in one. "Well, I could have told you that," she said.
Harry nodded to a daemon that pranced up to him and demanded more wine. He flicked his wrist slightly and a flask appeared and was greedily grasped by the daemon, who glided away immediately afterwards.
"Troubled, sire?" A voice asked him.
Harry turned to see Tynan standing ominously over him. He made as if to rise and bow, but she waved him down.
"No need, no need. Luna is back in the room you three were staying in, if you wish to know, and though it may take a while for me to understand some of her Seeing it will all end up well."
"What did she See?" Harry asked quietly.
Tynan's eyes twinkled oddly. "You've got a connection, Harry. Now that she's seen it, you can as well, although I'm starting to severely doubt she will have enough strength to live long past your birthday."
"Really?" Harry said nonchalantly, but his eyes were already narrowing as he forced himself to concentrate. "And how long will I be able to do this for?"
"Until the vision ends," Tynan drawled. "And I have no idea when that may be. Oh, and I suggest that you find some way to keep Draco alive until then. He's with his father at the moment, locked away in some room. Tidget will keep an eye on them."
"I don't like that elf—" Harry started to say, but apparently his efforts had paid off. He convulsed suddenly, as though taken by seizure, and then slumped against the chair.
Tynan played with his hair and watched as the frenzied activity in front of her picked up. The demons and Dark beasts in here could sense what she could not; the end was near, and although she had her doubts, it was undoubtedly up to Harry.
He smiled in his sleep.
Darkness had crept over Hogwarts, and Luna was kneeling against the wall, cradling a bloody stump of a hand to her chest.
"Harry?" she said softly. "You shouldn't be here. This is my world."
He scoffed and moved forward, then frowned when he realized he couldn't. He looked down and saw hands, pulling at his legs and carrying him deeper underground. He started to beat at them as they clawed his legs, turning his body to ribbons, and then—
He was standing in the middle of his dormitory, face still streaked with dirt and blood pouring from his body.
"Neville?" he heard himself whisper. Was that Neville? Was that pile of burning ashes really the boy whose Remembrall he had rescued ages ago?
From the corner of the room there was an illuminating glow, coming from the same trunk that had all of Harry's old things in it. The glow was green, and steadily spreading. Without a thought, he walked over to it and opened the trunk.
Two necklaces, intertwined and with their amulets beating as though they were hearts stared back at him. He couldn't, for the life of him, recognize them, but there was a sudden noise behind him.
Tynan was standing in the doorway, eyes flashing and angry as she pushed Luna aside and shoved her into a bed, which crumbled over her. Harry opened his mouth to cry out and then saw Luna emerging, holding onto Genevieve's hand, both of them ignoring him and heading for the open window.
Don't jump!
He couldn't talk anymore, and he reached blindly inside the trunk, groping for the necklaces with both hands. With one hand he drew out the necklace with the dark amulet in its center, and with the other, a shining, gleaming sword.
Blood poured under the doorway, and in the frothing bubbles, in the foam of the blood, Harry saw Draco's anguished eyes staring at him. He stood up and started screaming.
Luna stood on the windowsill and turned around to look at him, eyes clear and face hidden by her hair. "Jump," she said, and then took a grand leap.
Harry watched her fall and then sank into the blood, eyes shining with unshed tears. In the back of his mind, something told him someone caught Luna and Genevieve, and he scrambled to the window, aware of Tynan coming behind him.
He jumped out and fell.
Harry shot up, breathing heavily.
It took him only moments to assure himself he was not kneeling in blood or squashed on the castle grounds, but instead was wrapped in the blankets of the bed in the room he had first been placed in when he'd arrived. Nestea was sitting in the chair beside him, like she had been that first night, eyes red-rimmed as though she'd been crying.
Harry shook his head to rid himself of the images still rushing across his mind, and then stopped short. It took him a second to remember how to move, but when he did his hand quickly plunged down into his shirt to draw out what had shaken with his head.
Around his neck was the necklace from the dream, or one of them.
"Nice jewelry," said a voice, and he turned. His eyes widened even more as he stared at the person who was sitting on his desk, hands chained and eyes gaunt.
"Sirius?" he said, feeling his heartbeat speed up.
The man stood up and grinned widely as he approached his godson's bed. "The one and only, Harry Potter. I've traveled a long way to do this."
And then he punched Harry.
Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!
Yes, I'm alive.
No, I'm not updating anything else but this till it's done.
Yes, that's in a few more chapters (I say something like three).
No, I'm bot putting anything on hiatus.
Yes, it's because I've got half of the chapter for Objective typed up, a plot line actually forming for 50 Things and part of one for finishing Overshadowing Padders.
And to my anonyluffs, well, I love thou all very much, but finals and graduation rehearsals do not agree with me, whilst Fall Out Boy and Creme De Leche do, which is probably the only reason this chapter is typed on time, as well as a bad habit for watching so many Naruto episodes that I'm now up to 149 in less than...um...some time that is not normal for a normal human being.
And um, yea, just in case you wanted to know, this is TWENTY PAGES worth of spamalot in this little document here, and it took me a whole day and these past few. It's nice and long, but if I don't get reviews that are vaguely the same lentgh, I will throw a tantrum and kill my teddy bear again.
Oh, damn it all, I seem to have become a cynical and hated review whore.
I need ice cream.
