Fate and a Rose
DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter (and associated characters, likenesses, concepts, etc.) belongs to J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic, Inc. AOL/Time Warner, Inc., among others. I make no claim, written or implied, upon Harry Potter. No money is being made and no infringement or disrespect to the creators / copyright holders is intended.
Warning: This story will contain slash (i.e. male/male relationships) and mpreg (but not until later). If you don't like these things, I'd advise you not to read this fic! Thanks!
A/N: I have read all of the HP books, and all of them are relevant to this fic in some way, but some of the things that have happened in HBP will not happen until later in this fic, so please acknowledge that. Another pairing has been added to the extensive list of pairings in this fic! HGBZ. After Ron leaves Hermione for other girls, claiming the baby she's carrying isn't his, Blaise is there to help her pick up the pieces, even though she grudgingly accepts his offer at first. Eventually this forms into a relationship of sorts. May cause a spin-off fic; please review with your opinions.
Review Responses: I know, it's taken me forever to do this, but I've decided to reply to my reviewers (if only in this chapter ;sighs wistfully;), that way you all know that I do read and enjoy any reviews I get!
FallenMadness88: I don't really know at this point. As this fic's only on its ninth chapter, anything goes, really. As a matter of fact, I very well may make a sequel to this one and have the war with Voldie in it. But, that would only depend upon how long this one is (and I plan on making it at least somewhat long). I'd have to think that over, so you never know, I just may surprise you!
Pixiedora: I think that Draco likes hugs more than he'd like to admit, so I'm sure he's thankful for that one!
CHAx2: Thanks!
ViciousQuestionMark: Thanks, and I apologize for the OOCness. I knew when I first started writing this that they were a little bit, but after going back and reading it, I realized that it's a bit more extensive than I meant for it to be. Thanks for pointing that out to me, and I'll try to make them seem a tad more like themselves in the chapters to come!
Now that the new year has officially begun, updates, while still regular, may fall into a pattern of sorts, with a longer wait time between chapters. The wait time won't be long (three or four days at most), so don't panic about that. Also, along with the schedule of my busy life, I've got twenty-three (I know, a lot, but what can I say? I'm an avid reader! But those may be…just may be too much for me to tackle…shifty look) fics waiting to be read. A lot of them are actually pretty good, and can be found on my favorites here on FF dot NET. I know and understand how hard good fics are to find (especially HD), so I've taken it upon myself to inform my readers of any good pickings I find. Any fics that I've read and enjoyed and would like to recommend to you can be found on my favorites list, which is slowly but steadily growing. I'd also like to ask that anyone who finds any good HD fics tells me about them, because I'm always ready for another one (even though I know I should be working on an update for this one; sorry, but an author's got to have her inspiration, you know?)
And now on with the fic!
Chapter Nine
Voldemort's New Body
A few Chocolate Frogs and jokingly thrown insults later, Harry lay on his back on the bed he and Draco shared, Hermione sat in the bed that was supposed to be Draco's, and Draco was in the bathroom, and had been for the past fifteen minutes.
Harry looked at Hermione thoughtfully, then said, "Why did you come early?"
Hermione shrugged. "Well, I just had to get away. Ron and Lavender were in the Common Room snogging it up, and I just couldn't take it. Ron's about to be a father, and it seems to me as though one child just isn't enough for him. Apparently, he wants one from every girl in Gryffindor, because every time I walk into a room, he's with someone new. Did you know he's even supposedly "hooked up" with one of the first years? That's just disgusting!"
Harry pulled a face and nodded in agreement. "I'm sorry, Hermione."
Hermione snorted. "Don't be, Harry. It's not your fault Ron's being an arse. He's just so thick headed, you know? Sometimes I just wish I could…urgh!"
Harry smiled as he watched Hermione reach up for her hair and give it a firm tug. Just then, Draco stepped out of the bathroom. Hermione eyed him beseechingly. "Must you spend all of your time in the bathroom?" She asked exasperatedly.
Draco sent a glare at her. "Yes," He answered shortly. "I must look presentable at all times."
Hermione sighed. "You do look presentable, Malfoy. The only person who seems to think you don't is you."
"Look, Granger. Nose out, okay? I don't need you snooping about in my business all the time."
At Hermione's hurt look, Harry glared at his soul mate. "She was only trying to be civil." He said coldly, sitting up and reaching between the two beds to rub Hermione's shoulder softly. When Hermione chanced another glance at Draco, he was leaning over his trunk and digging noisily for a pair of trainers.
"Hey, Hermione," Harry said, turning her attention to him. "Didn't you say something about explaining how you knew about everything in that letter of yours?"
Hermione perked slightly, and launched into a long and (seemingly, though only to Draco, who found such petty things annoying rather than interesting; partially because he already knew the information Hermione was sharing with Harry because of an owl he had received earlier that morning from Blaise himself while Hermione and Harry had been having a pillow fight of sorts) boring tale about how she had come across the information she had so willingly shared with her fellow Gryffindor.
"You see, Blaise and I ran into each other just yesterday. He wondered why I wasn't here visiting you guys, and inadvertently told me that he didn't come because he knew that I would be here, and didn't want any uncomfortable situations for Draco, even though he made it clear that if it wouldn't make Draco uncomfortable, he'd love to come up and bother you."
Hermione's face scrunched up in a look between disgust and humor. "Well we got into a little fight, and he yelled at me about how you stole Pansy's rightful position as Draco's quote, unquote, 'lover', and went into avid details about exactly why Pansy was allowed to label herself as such. Anyway, he said that he, Pansy and a few others were coming after dinner tonight to visit, so I decided that I'd better come to keep you company in case they decided to give you grief."
Hermione beamed proudly, and Harry's brow scrunched up in concentration. This information was a little bit much to process. "And," Hermione continued. "He also seemed to be warming up to me a bit." Hermione blushed softly and looked away, and Harry shot her a surprised look.
"What do you mean, 'warming up to you', Hermione? Are you out of your mind?"
Hermione turned an even brighter pink, and Harry's gaze softened. "And what about Ron?" Hermione scoffed, and Harry apologized quickly with his eyes. "I mean…what about Krum?"
"Harry, I've told you and Ronald both before that we're just friends! He's got a little crush on me, but I've told him straight out that I didn't want to be in a relationship with him because of the long distance. I don't do well being apart from people I love for extended periods of time, you know that. Besides, when he asked me out…I sort of had a thing going with Ron." Hermione looked away wistfully, and Harry sighed.
"Look, Hermione. I don't care who you date, I just don't want you turning up in tears like you did the other day. Ron's put you through enough. He's still my best friend, but sometimes he's really thick-headed. I'm just looking out for you, you know?"
Hermione nodded. "I know."
"She doesn't need you to look after her, Potter," Draco cut in bitterly, breaking the comfortable moment of silence between the two Gryffindors. "What she needs is someone she can love who will protect her no matter what; someone who will be smart enough to realize that the baby she's carrying is his."
Hermione glared at him, knowing that he had hit the nail on the head, but unwilling to admit it.
"Look," Hermione said defensively. "I still have feelings for Ron, I won't deny it, but I know that if he's stupid enough to think for even one minute that I would sneak around behind his back like that, then I don't think I should stay; especially if my daughter's on the line."
Harry rubbed his eye with the heal of his hand and sighed. "I know, and I'm trying, Hermione, really trying to be accepting of the fact that Ron's gone and ruined it all and doesn't seem to care."
"He's the jealous type, clearly." Draco stated, as if that explained it all. He sat on his bed beside Hermione, and didn't notice the identical looks of shock that both Harry and Hermione shot him. Pulling on one trainer, Draco looked up and said, "We all know that Hermione's the devoted type, and if Weasel thinks that she'd mess around, she's better off without him." as he pulled on the other one.
Harry blinked, confused at the change in Draco's demeanor. It was as if he was explaining things to a small child, but on the other hand, he was trying to comfort Hermione; something that he would have never done a year before. Hermione smiled softly, catching on to what Draco was saying, and thankful that Draco was attempting to make things better.
"Besides," Draco continued when neither had said a word. "Zambini likes her." Hermione's mouth dropped open, Harry's eyes widened to the size of saucers, and Draco continued to tie his trainers as if this was something that was mentioned every day, like the weather or the latest Quidditch scores.
"He…he what?" Hermione asked finally, mouth still agape. It looked as though she was about to fall out of the bed, and Harry was worried for her safety; if she fell to the floor, she may freeze to death before she could get back up (the floor was rather cold, though Harry might have been exaggerating…a little…).
Draco looked at her with a brow raised. "Are you deaf as well as muggle-born?"
Hermione rolled her eyes and glared. "Oh, shut up."
Draco smirked. "Gladly," With that, he walked back into the bathroom and the tap could be heard running as he brushed his teeth.
"You know, Harry," Hermione said, staring at the open bathroom door fondly. "Draco's not that bad." Harry nodded and Draco could be heard through the bathroom, shouting (albeit slightly muffled because of the toothbrush that was jammed in his mouth).
"Don' call me Dra'o!"
Hermione grinned widely and pulled out her knitting, which looked much better now than it had last time.
"Booties," She commented as she charmed the needles to knit for her.
Harry smiled and-
Pain. Hot, searing pain, enough to tear a being in two, originated from his forehead. It spread through his body like wild fire, scorching his limbs to numbness, turning his stomach to a churning, broiling mess. He couldn't breathe, and the walls were closing in. And what was that large, bushy creature before him? The edges of Harry's vision began to fade, closing off his vision until all he could see was blackness. All noise was lost on Harry's ears as the two people in the room tried desperately to get him back into a state of consciousness. It was then that Harry blacked out.
Draco looked down at the prone body on the floor, his eyes telling more than his expression and body language ever would; he was worried. Hermione continued to shout at Harry, profanities and any other thing that had ever worked before to get her friend to start breathing again, and Draco just stood there, eyes wide. His own scar was pulsing slightly, and a couple of times after Harry had blacked out, Draco could feel a phantom of pain licking at his forehead, but he was sure that it was nothing compared to what Harry must have experienced just moments before.
The seconds ticked away. Harry was unconscious, not breathing, and Hermione had already gone for help, leaving Draco and Harry alone. Each moment that passed was another moment taken from Harry's life, and if he didn't take a breath soon, Draco was sure that the dwindling existence would soon fade into nothingness. Draco kneeled beside Harry's prone body, tears sparkling in his eyes. He didn't know the extent of the injury, or what had caused Harry to black out like he had, so he didn't dare try to do a spell to make it better. But if he didn't do something soon…
Xxx
Harry was aware of falling off of the bed he had previously been seated on. He was aware of the blinding pain of the scar on his forehead as he was dragged into this world of half life; the abode of none other than Voldemort himself. Nothing had ever felt so cold to Harry; so lifeless and unfeeling as this place that Voldemort called home. Harry could easily believe that he was in the inner workings of Voldemort's mind itself.
With a shudder, Harry glanced around him. There was nothing. It was an expanse of red and black swirling nothingness; death and despair, but not belonging to Voldemort. And it reeked of sweat and blood, neither belonging to Voldemort either. Harry could catch glimpses of the countless people Voldemort had murdered in cold blood, flickering in dark corners of the abyss until he turned to look directly at them. They always disappeared as he looked, but he always caught the looks of horror and fear on their faces, plastered there for eternity. And Voldemort's high-pitched laugh rang loudly, echoing continuously and becoming louder with each echo until Harry just wanted to either rip his ears off or scream.
Harry closed his eyes tightly, willing the images to go away, willing Hermione's face and the sea-green booties back into his mind, hoping that once he opened them Hermione would be there and she would ask if he were okay. But he knew it wouldn't happen. Voldemort had him in his grasp, open and vulnerable, unable to protect himself, and Harry knew Voldemort would use this to his advantage.
When Harry finally opened his eyes, the tall figure of Voldemort stood directly in front of him, only meters away. "Harry,"
Harry winced at his own name being voiced in the high-pitched banter of Voldemort, and shuddered when he felt the long, cold, bony fingers that Harry remembered so well caressing first his cheek, then his scar. "How wonderful to see you again. How long has it been? Three years…ah, how much you've grown." Voldemort grabbed Harry by the chin and held his face in place, his fingers cold to the touch, but burning straight through to the bone like a hot iron when they made contact. "Three long years; they have surely taken their toll on you. But look at me." Harry averted his eyes.
"Look at me." Voldemort demanded fiercely, his grip on Harry's chin tightening. Harry looked, and couldn't restrain the violent tremors that ran through him at the sight of Voldemort, now restored to his full glory.
Where there had once been two slits for a nose, a normal, slightly hooked nose appeared; not belonging to Voldemort himself. His eyes, once red, were now an ungodly black color, shimmering lifelessly. There was no white in his eyes, and it gave him the eerie look of being dead. His cheeks were sallow and hollowed out, dark purple shadows lingering along his prominent cheek bones, giving him an oddly haunting demeanor. His strong jaw stuck out, uneven as though it had been broken a number of times, and his chin pointed out angrily. None of these belonged to Voldemort himself, but he bore them proudly. His wavy black hair had grown out to shoulder length, and swept about his shoulders angrily, violently tattered and uneven at the ends, as though it had been hacked off while Voldemort had been sleeping. His body, lean and muscular in shape, was also taller than Harry remembered. Voldemort was a ghostly pale color, decked out in long, billowing black robes.
"You…you've stolen these body parts!" Harry said, fright seeping into his voice and interlacing with an anger that he hadn't known was there.
Voldemort chuckled. "It was necessary." He replied, picking at one of the soiled fingernails on his right hand.
Harry reached for his back pocket where his wand had been moments earlier, only to find a quill and a Sickle.
"Looking for something?" Voldemort asked, waving Harry's wand about in his face with an evil glimmer to his glowing black eyes.
Harry reached for his wand desperately. "Ah, ah, ah!" Voldemort tisked, pulling the wand out of reach and casting an unknown spell on Harry. Harry was frozen in place, his feet taking root in the floor. His arms were yanked above him, his legs spread, and everything on his being, excluding his own clothing, was torn from his body.
The Sickle and the quill went flying at Voldemort, followed by a necklace he had owned since he had been ten, having found it at a local park while forced to watch Dudley play on the swings one bright, shining day when the Dursleys had promised a trip to the park but couldn't find a susceptible baby-sitter for Harry. The laces in his trainers, followed by the muggle watch he wore regardless of it's inability to function on Hogwarts property, and finally Harry's glasses all went zooming towards Voldemort's head, only to be caught, mid-air, in Voldemort's hands as he let Harry's wand fall to the ground.
"Hmm…don't carry many things on us, do we?" Voldemort asked, fingering the silver chain of the necklace curiously. "How fitting that the wizard destined to defeat me has no back up plans available when he needs them most." Voldemort sneered, his thin lips pulling back harshly and revealing disgusting, crooked, yellowed teeth in a bad excuse for a jeer.
"Harry. Harry! HARRY! Please, Harry, wake up!" …Was that Malfoy's voice?
Harry was pulled bodily from Voldemort's dwellings, and found himself staring blearily into four concerned faces. "What did you see, Harry? Was it Voldemort?"
"'Mione?" Harry asked, his voice a croak.
"Move aside, move aside! He needs air, move aside! Now, Harry, dear, don't try to talk, okay? Just stay still, let me check you up, all right? Mmm, good. My, but your head's awfully hot. And what about your hands? They're right frigid!"
"Madam-"
"No talking, Harry! Now, everything will be all right. You were under for a while. I was quite worried when you didn't wake up right after I gave you the potion; thought it may be defective. But I can see clearly that it's done its duties. Good thing, that potion." Madam Pomfrey trailed off, still mumbling things incoherently to herself as she sporadically touched Harry's forehead, felt his pulse, and crammed multiple potions on the bedside table, each vial waiting for Harry to drink their contents.
"Draco?" Harry moaned as his eyes fluttered shut, then opened painfully, only to close once more.
"Right here, Harry. Right here." Draco assured, clutching tightly to Harry's hand and not letting go, even when Madam Pomfrey jostled him out of her way on her hurry to her office to check her charts on Harry's health to see if he was allergic to anything that she had overlooked in her frenzy to revive him.
Hermione had grabbed onto Harry's other hand and was holding on for dear life, her grip tightening with every word that was spoken. "Oh, Harry! Are you all right? Please tell me that you're all right!"
Harry's eyes slitted open slightly, and he whispered, "I'm…I'm all right." A small smile curved his lips, and Hermione threw herself at him, sobbing into his arms.
"Oh, Harry! You were…and then…and you kept saying his name! It was so…so….Oh, Harry!" Hermione spouted, her ready tears quickly wetting Harry's shirt.
Draco watched the proceedings silently, lips pursed.
Hermione continued to sob into Harry's chest. Harry patted her back reassuringly, and met Draco's eyes with an air of confusion. Draco nodded, shrugged, and sat in a chair that had been summoned by someone amidst all the commotion, still grasping tightly to Harry's hand as Hermione continued to spill her heart and shed her tears on Harry's already sopping chest.
A/N: Sorry about it being short. More explanations will be revealed in the next chapter, so stay tuned.
