Okay so, I've decided to cut the author crap at the top of the chapter. You want the disclaimer/warning/summary please see chapter 1. I kept reading it whenever I read over each chapter and by now I'm heartily sick of my own chatter. You probably are too so I'll keep this brief. I will be giving you a heads up on Warnings at the beginning. I really don't want to traumatize any one but Harry.
Now First I want to thank the three people who reviewed. I won't do this very often I don't think but as only a few did review I'd like to show my appreciation.
History also brought up a few things I've been meaning to address anyway. Namely Hylaarr and Osset're are Harry's parents. Hylaarr (Dominant) Osset're (Submissive). Seren, that's the bitch you met in chapter one, had a vision the moment Harry was conceived and for an as of yet unknown reason, you don't know I do, attacked Osset're and made it look as if the child were killed but actually stole him, a just conceived Harry, and gave him to a mortal wizarding couple, Lily and James Potter, without their knowing, doing a bunch of crazy spells to damper the creature/Vampire/elven blood and make Harry look like the Potters. Now Lily gave birth to Harry thus the, born to those who have thrice defied him, holds true.
James and Lily did die when Voldie attacked just so you know. This chapter kinda implies that they didn't.
Harry is a Submissive, I've found that the abuse makes it impossible to make him other wise, but don't worry, I've always had my own definition for a sub, as in a Submissive is someone, always creature or other race, that is extremely powerful, so much so that they need the stabilizing relationship that D/s entails or their magic makes them go boing. That's crazy if you didn't catch that. That is my main basis on why the Vampires hold those relationships and why they've recently begun to follow The Ancient Ways which I haven't touched on much just yet.
Now that all that is addressed on with the Warnings.
I just have to say that writing bad guys is hard. Now Voldie was easy, I love his evil madness which I enjoy turning into farce as much as I can. Seren was annoying to write but really everything just made me hate her and her character. The Dursleys are a boring lot, all jealousy and hate and I'm nearly sick of writing it. I do have to say that when I touched on Petunia in this chapter I ended up making her into a monster, and she was the hardest to write so far. I was really horrified at how vicious she came out. I know I said that in the last chapter but really I went back and read the abuse there and compared to the abuse here and the difference was staggering. And so WARNING: Child abuse in this chapter. It came out so violent I was literally trembling after I wrote it. I think I made a comment about sick minds and considering I was talking about myself you can see why I was so horrified. You might not want to read it at all but it does foreshadow a lot in the way of a secret I'm keeping under my hat. It's the last paragraph in the part with Petunia's point of view, down towards the very end of the chapter.
Yeah so that's it. On with Chapter Three.
This chapter is Beta'd. Say Thanks to Ori.
Chapter Three
July 10th Evening
Two years later.
Marge Dursley was visiting. Harry was frantically dashing about the kitchen in a wild attempt to keep the progress of dinner moving forward. Unfortunately the task of feeding his uncle, cousin, and Marge Dursley was so monumental a small five year old boy was doomed to failure. Petunia Dursley knew it too. She sat in the sitting room, in the corner chair, which allowed her to supervise the boy's progress without actually helping. Indeed her voice carried easily and she deliberately directed the conversation to a topic she knew neither Dursley could resist. Harry.
"That boy better not burn a single crisp, Pet." Vernon raged, "because so help me if he does!"
Petunia Dursley sniffed calmly. "He wouldn't dare. He knows there'd be nothing to eat for a week should he burn a single pot!"
Vernon glared in the direction of the kitchen once more before lowering himself to the couch and clicking on the tellie. "Tell me why we're having the boy cook again, Pet?"
"Because." Petunia snapped. "I had to visit Dudley's school. Some snotty teacher thinks our precious Dudley-dums is falling behind or some such nonsense. She kept on so long I didn't have the time!" Petunia glared at the boy scarring about the kitchen. "Besides, it's about time for the little freak to start pulling his weight!"
"I'll say!" Marge roared. "How old is the brat now. Three? Four?"
"Five," sneered Petunia.
"High time to be doing something," Marge agreed loudly, nodding. "If he's too stupid for school you might as well put him to work!"
Petunia sneered again. "He's too stupid for learning anything beyond simple orders. If we put him in school, the teachers would be after us for all kinds of money for tutoring and such. There's no point to it."
"Besides," Vernon growled. "If we stuck him in school he'd be in class with Dudley. The poor boy is already terrorized by the boy's creeping about at home so much that he's falling behind. If they had lessons together Dudley would come home a complete wreck!"
Dudley Dursley had been present but said nothing so far his eyes glued to the tellie almost unblinking. Now he paused to look at his father and screw up his face and whine, tears leaking a bit. "Harry did it!"
Petunia was by his side in an instant wiping the tears away and kissing his face, whispering apologies about that horrid boy and promises of a new toy.
"That, boy!" Marge boomed. "I don't know how you put up with it Vernon! The child skulks about in those horrid rags, so quietly he must be up to something. If I were you I'd have him hauled off. Surely there are places for delinquents like him." She turned to glower at the kitchen but as her neck was nearly non-existent she gave up after a glare at the wall.
"It is trying at times, Marge, but a beating now and again keeps him in line more or less." Vernon grunted, eyes glued to the tellie, clearly only paying attention now because they were discussing that boy. "Besides we've tried that before, dropped him off at the hospital the very night we got him, but somehow he was right on our doorstep when we returned."
Marge frowned, rolls of fat jiggling as she did. "Odd that." She eyed Petunia's suddenly pale face. "Didn't you try again?"
"Oh loads of time over these past four years. Dropped him off at shelters and shops and even in London that last time, right, Pet? The boy somehow manages to scurry back here like a flea you can't kill, always back in his Cupboard by morning-"
"Vernon!" Petunia hissed, nearly dropping the empty teacup she had picked out from beside Dudley.
"Oh hush, Petunia, I know all about the cupboard." Marge watched her sister-in-law over her teacup taking in the pasty skin and trembling fingers with something akin to glee.
Vernon blinked at that. "And she heartily approves!" he bellowed in satisfaction. He still hadn't cottoned on to his wife's distress.
"Quite right, Vernon, it's all that pest deserves, intruding like this, even when it's clear he's not wanted." Marge watched as Petunia made a jerking motion with her head to the door, something that Vernon, with his eyes glued to the tellie didn't even notice.
Marge cackled silently in glee. "What happened to his parents anyway? You all were never very clear."
Vernon looked at her abruptly and suddenly realized what was going on. He began to fidget and darted a glance back to the kitchen, almost nervously. Marge's interest increased.
"Disappeared!" Petunia said quickly. When Marge looked at her she was surprised to see her sister-in-law was suddenly calm and had walked back to her seat and sat down. "They just up one day and left! Haven't seen them for what...6 years?"
Vernon watched his wife and trying to adopt her casual air turned to face the tellie once more. "More." He grunted. "Not since your parents' funeral."
Marge sniffed in outrage. "And they just left him? Without word or permission?"
Petunia huffed, the empty teacup clutched between bone white fingers, one of her easily read signs of rage. "Nothing!" She snarled looking away from Marge to the fireplace, her eyes a bit unfocused.
Marge cackled silently. "How horrible." She said raising her voice a bit to carry into the kitchen. "They must have really hated the little monster."
July 10th
Afternoon.
Harry was always instructed never to answer the phone. The Dursley's liked to pretend they were quite normal thank you very much and having a little freak running about making himself known somehow destroyed that image in the Dursley's way of thinking. But when Harry was suddenly pulled up from the crouch he had adopted in order to clean the bathroom floor Petunia Dursley snarled that she was leaving to visit Dudley's school and he'd better finish his chores before she got back.
"And listen here, boy!" She said very quietly, griping his chin painfully tight. "You are to answer the phone should I be forced to call. Do you understand?" She waited until he nodded before she let go and straightened. Harry immediately dropped his eyes from hers to the floor. Petunia nodded in satisfaction, "Don't go getting any airs boy; this is only for this once! And if you ever think to use the phone you will be facing Vernon and the belt every night for a month." Harry paled at that and nodded vigorously, eyes still respectfully downcast. "You will answer, 'Dursley residence?' and should it be anyone other then me you will hang up, understood?" Harry nodded again. Petunia sniffed and ordered him back to his cleaning.
Harry was a bit baffled by this sudden change in things but went along as he had always, trying to obey the Dursley's as best as he could. He finished the upstairs' loo and that signaled the end of the top floor, cleaned top to bottom that morning by Harry of course. Then vacuuming the stairs and mopping the hall. The sitting room was easily tidied; the Dursley's weren't the sort to use if for much but watching the tellie and entertaining. The kitchen had been finished during lunch while Petunia ate and supervised his scrubbing of every surface until it shone. Harry was just about to head out the back yard to make sure it was in order when the phone rang. Harry eyed it warily, hunching his shoulders a bit and, feeling guilty, approached it. What if it weren't his Aunt? Despite what she said to him about hanging up he knew if it were someone else he'd be blamed for answering it. But if it was his aunt and he didn't answer when specifically ordered to. Harry shuddered and picked up the phone.
"Dursley residence?" He said softly eyes downcast even though no one was there to see.
"Boy! Harry." Harry nearly dropped the phone in shock. His aunt's voice sounded tinny coming through the phone. But it was her. And she called him Harry! His aunt never called him by his name unless they were in public and only then if others were listening.
"Yes. Aunt?" He asked his voice shaking a bit.
"I can't get back anytime soon." Petunia's voice was sour, and he could picture the pinched expression on her face as she said that. "You will have to make dinner."
Harry did drop the phone but caught it before it could clatter to the floor. His hand was shaking as he put it back to his ear. "Yes, Aunt. Shall I make what you have planned out?" Harry was trembling a bit at the thought. He'd never done more than help in the kitchen and Petunia was always right there to correct the smallest mistake with a quick harsh word and a slap; how could he ever hope to make and entire dinner by himself?"
"Yes." A small silence, Harry could practically hear her grudgingly making a decision. "Use the books and notes I've laid out."
Harry breathed in relief. That might make things easier. "Yes, Aunt."
"Vernon will be back with Marge at 4, make sure she's comfortable! I will be back with Dudley at half past 4."
"Yes, Aunt."
"WELL, get to it then." With that she hung up.
Harry carefully hung up the phone in its cradle. He breathed a bit through his mouth then sucked up air through his nose and blew it out again through his mouth. He had seen Hylaarr do that when stressed and often scolding Osset're to do the same. Osset're would make an effort at it when he said that but always blew up once full emotions reigned. The thought of his two favourite people calmed him. He hadn't seen them in a month, since he had inexplicably woken there one morning in June.
Try as he might he couldn't remember doing anything wrong that would warrant such a drastic punishment that would bring him here but had shrugged off that concern and enjoyed watching Hylaarr refuse to indulge in his birthday, even as Osset're got his way and forced them to celebrate.
Upon waking up later that morning, indeed late and sure he was in trouble for sleeping in, he had found no evidence punishment of any sort and the Dursley's acted at though nothing were wrong, going about the day as normal. If they hadn't overacted to such a degree that Vernon was almost polite to him once he would have been sure he had imagined it.
While the thought of them made him happier, and as much as he loved them, he didn't want to go about courting punishment just to see them so he might as well get started on that dinner. With that Harry took himself into the kitchen. It was spotless from its earlier cleaning and the only thing on the counter was the recipe book opened to the meal Petunia had planned to make, and the note cards that listed detailed instructions on when everything was to be assembled and put to bake. Petunia Dursley was a fanatic about organization, one of the quirks of her personality that Harry didn't really mind. Now he very nearly blessed her for that fact and set about following her directions to the letter.
Harry, at five, had taught himself most everything by observing how others did it and even paying attention to Petunia whenever she attempted to teach Dudley something new. Usually learning these skills were necessary to get by in the Dursley household but every so often Petunia would order him to learn how to do something and Harry would make an extra effort to master that skill before she had a chance to get cross about it.
Such was the case with reading. Harry had learned to read years ago, when one evening Vernon had asked him to fetch that morning's paper. Harry had got the paper but it was the wrong date and Vernon had blown up in a rage at the child at the perceived disobedience. Later that week Petunia had handed him a dictionary and a few books that Dudley had ripped pages out of and told him to learn to read. Harry had taken to the task with childlike enthusiasm and found a love of reading that rivaled his love of gardening. He had mastered reading in a few short months, and then put himself to the task of learning to read the language Hylaarr and Osset're spoke, a vampire language he still didn't know the name of.
It never occurred to Harry how he could understand another language without learning it as well but since he had been so young when he first started those dreams he assumed that he must have learned it as he had learned English. Learning to read the vampire language hadn't been that hard and one of Harry's favorite moments were when he was curled up with a book in front of the huge fireplace in Hylaarr and Osset're chambers. He had recently found Osset're stash of Elvin books as well and started trying to puzzle out that with the few words he knew.
Now reading Petunia's neat cursive wasn't a hardship at all and Harry was quickly immersed in the task of making dinner for his family, one which he knew he would be allowed to eat as Marge would be here. Usually on Marge's visits, after the flurry of cleaning was though, Harry was stuffed into his cupboard an hour before she was to arrive and there he stayed her entire visit except when something needed done or Marge wanted Ripper to get some exercise.
Harry knew better than to expect meals when Marge was there, the one time they had fed him in her presence she had sicked Ripper on him, and the dog promptly bit him and took his food. Harry was forced to eat dog food that night and was sick for days after. Petunia Dursley had refused to feed him on Marge's visits after that, saying she didn't want to waist what Marge could eat on 'that boy.' Harry knew differently though. Petunia secretly hated Ripper and didn't want good food going to such a nasty beast, but of course she would never say so.
Around 4 'o clock Harry heard his uncle and Marge arrived, and stopped to take her luggage up to Dudley's second bedroom which he had converted that morning into a habitable guest room. Then he fetched drinks for both Dursleys and retreated again to the kitchen with Vernon none the wiser as he was immersed in a loud conversation with his sister and couldn't be arsed for once to check up on Harry.
Around a quarter to 5 Petunia arrived with Dudley in tow and once greetings were done she had immediately found Harry and stood watching his progress for a few tense minutes. Finally she had left with a sniff which nearly shocked the poor child into burning the pudding as even when Harry was doing well at something she always had something negative to say. She had left after that and broke the news to Vernon that 'the boy' was in charge of dinner this evening, which would be done at half past 5 or else. Vernon had raised holy hell about that but settled down more or less once Marge proclaimed it a good idea.
Once things were quiet Harry listened distractedly to the unnaturally loud conversation as he removed dishes and set them to keep warm by the stove. It was very nearly pleasant, this chore of dinner, despite the frantic race it was tonight and the eyes of his aunt glowering at him from the sitting room.
Harry wasn't even that bothered when his intelligence was brought up and questioned but then being stupid wasn't something even the Dursley's thought punishable unless it directly resulted in Harry ruining something. Harry couldn't help but freeze a bit upon hearing the news that the Dursley's had repeatedly tried to get rid of him.
That wasn't a surprise but it was news as Harry had no recollection of any of these events, and he couldn't help but agree with Marge at how odd it was he turned up back here whenever they tried. Dinner quickly tugged Harry's attention back and it wasn't until he was carefully taking a just emptied casserole dish to the sink that he heard them talk about his parents. Oh Harry knew all about Lily and James Potter. Both his aunt and uncle were often spouting off about how horrible they were but as Harry had never really thought much about them it had never really hurt him. But this did. They had left. Disappeared and left him alone. With the Dursley's.
Harry's mouth worked soundlessly in disbelief, he had never thought about it before. Why was he here? How did he get here? Did they just drop him off with a note? 'This is Harry. You can keep him.' Harry shook his head as tears welled up. Why wouldn't someone want their child? He knew first hand that parents loved their children ferociously. Petunia and Vernon were the prime example, but so were Hylaarr and Osset're who grieved even now over a boy who died before he was even born.
There was silence in the sitting room for a bit. Then Marge cackled, the laugh only audible because of that silence.
"How horrible." She said raising her voice a bit to carry into the kitchen and Harry knew she was about to say something horrid.
"They must have really hated the little monster."
Harry jerked in shock and dropped the casserole dish the glass falling to the floor and exploding, sending bits of sharpness flying everywhere.
Vernon Dursley's roar didn't even register for a few moments, but when the large man stormed into the kitchen, red with fury, and the first blow fell Harry did register that. And the next. And the one following that.
July 10th
Sunset
Harry opened his eyes to the familiar view Hylaarr and Osset're's private chambers and sighed. He'd been so good recently. He should have known his uncle would jump at the smallest foul up, as if waiting for it, let alone breaking a dish. It wasn't that Harry didn't want to come, he did and dearly, but sometimes it just hurt so much that the Dursley's were so quick to find reason to punish him so harshly.
Oh the boy didn't delude himself to the fact that they hated him. He just had secretly believed that if he were good enough, if he did enough, if he was enough, eventually they might love him. This was something he had hoped for so long he had just assumed that they were right, and their harsh treatment of him made him make him work all the harder trying to reach that secretly harboured goal.
But now the truth was staring him in the face. Here he was, in the creation of his dreams, where the two people he love the most in this world were so stricken by the loss of a child they had never even met. This is what love looked like and he knew the Dursley's could never look at him with half that affection.
And if the Dursley's couldn't how must his parent have felt toward him? James and Lily Potter had given him up to people they hadn't seen in years and never even said goodbye. Harry could picture them giving him up on a dark and raining night, placing him on the front stoop to number 4 and disappearing as quickly as the darkness could swallow them. Tears made his vision blurry and he scrubbed them away in despair.
'Except they didn't,' thought Harry, his mind whispering that to him sadly. Apparently, though they hadn't been seen in years, they were still close enough to fetch him and take him back whenever the Dursleys got fed up. Unseen and unnoticed they found him wherever he'd been abandoned and brought him back to number 4, only this time entering the house and placing him back in his cupboard before the Dursleys even returned. Harry cringed in shame. The cupboard was obviously a punishment, Petunia had said that often enough, and that they had put him there, those many many times, spoke volumes. Harry had no doubt that those times were numerous. The Dursleys were always telling him to get out and never come back.
Harry tried to blink back the tears but they fell anyway. 'Marge is right.' he thought softly. 'They must really hate me.'
A deep dark chuckle caught Harry's attention and he look over find both vampires on the floor in front of, what Harry like to call the wall of windows. The dark chuckle came from Hylaarr, different from Osset're's throaty velvet laugh or chiming chuckle. The lifebonded pair sat beside each other with their legs folded, hands on their knees and backs straight. Both had their eyes closed and breathed slowly in threw the mouth for a specific count, hold for a count, and out through the mouth for another specific count. But Osset're was fidgeting. His long was hair entwined in his fingers, magic swirling around them, twisting and untwisting the ends into intricate knots. Every so often his eyes would open to quickly look around sufferingly and then close as he blew an extra hard breath through his mouth. Harry couldn't the soft smile despite his teary mood. Anyone who had spent five minutes in Osset're's presence knew how hard it was for him to keep still. Again Hylaarr's dark laugh broke his meditative breathing and Osset're's eyes snapped open in annoyance.
"Do you mind, not laughing at me, Hylaarr Kiinn!" He said trying to sound annoyed but instead came perilously close to a whine. "I am trying to meditate."
"And you're doing a rather poor attempt of it with all the fidgeting, Peacock." Hylaarr's amused eyes took in his mate's twitch at the address. "You must detach yourself from everything but the breathing; all thought, distractions and movement fading away. Become stillness." Hylaarr closed his eyes again and began his breathing at a slightly faster rhythm then before. Harry knew he wasn't even trying for deep meditation anymore and couldn't help but smile. His face felt a bit stiff when he did but his relief at seeing the two vampires had him pushing away the despair of before.
Osset're rolled his eyes a bit silently mocking 'Become stillness.' and then closed them impatiently and started breathing in an exaggerated and noisy way. After a bit his eyes snapped open almost against their will, as if afraid if they kept closed to long they'd miss seeing something amazing. "Hylaarr." His eyes narrowed him when Hylaarr only hmmm at him. "Hylaarr!" The dark vampire waited a beat just to rile him, then opened his eyes lazily to look at his mate. Osset're growled impatiently, "It's not working!" he huffed as Hylaarr merely chuckled again. "Truly! I am just bad at this, its never going to work."
"Really, Osset," chided the elder mockingly. "Wasn't it you who said you were the most excellent student? That you could master any skill with ease and perfection and every Master would be lucky to have the honor of teaching you?"
Osset're was silent at that, closing his eyes, and for a few moments actually managed to keep the routine of breathing in proper order for a time. Finally, he couldn't resist defending himself and huffing out a breath he turned to glare at his mate in annoyance. Hylaarr felt his gaze but ignored him, he had gone back to his breathing.
Osset're sneered. "I am demonstrating perfectly the fact that meditation is not the answer to everyone's problems." He announced this with arrogant glee, sure he was right, and waited for his mate to concede. Hylaarr breathed out a final time, almost a sigh, and opened his eyes, his body language admitting defeat.
Hylaarr shook his head in despair as Osset're grinned in relief. Harry grinned all sorrow gone as he took that in. He knew that Hylaarr was a sneaky vampire. He had seen first hand over the years how carefully Hylaarr could manipulate his mate and knew the signs of Hylaarr's acting. Hylaarr had a purpose to these meditation attempts, and not just the fact that he wanted to do them his only motivation. Harry smiled at the dark vampire Lord and finally relaxed. Oh he knew he'd soon have to go back to the Dursleys but for now he was safe and sat back to enjoy the pleasant dream.
Osset're quickly stood pulling his mate up with and him and practically dragged him over to the sitting area as if he were afraid he mate would change his mind if he tarried. The low table in front of the unlit fireplace was laid out in a feast; a variety of little bit size things decorating it temptingly. Harry hadn't noticed before but now that he did his stomach made itself heard in growling protest.
Years ago Harry would never have dared help himself to food without explicit permission. The Dursleys had instilled in him the proper fear of the consequences of stealing; but as Harry had gotten older he had recognized the necessity of eating whenever he could, if only to prevent the weakness that led to unacceptable mistakes and the punishments that followed.
Sometimes that meant stealing and he had learned that skill as well out of necessity. The first and last time he had been caught, well had been caught and had actually been guilty, he hadn't been able to move for a week and had visited the pair of vampires nearly the entire time. Even with that self interest silently giving him permission to steal, Harry would have never dared out of respect for Hylaarr and Osset're if he wasn't positive that, had they known of him, they would have given him his fill unasked. Underneath that reasoning was the acknowledged but ignored thought that said this was a dream anyway; the food belonged to his imagination and would do nothing weather he ate it or not.
Harry shied away from that uncomfortable whisper and moved slowly off the marble bench he always appeared on. His stomach yowling loudly for him to hurry up, Harry followed the two vampires. He had initially thought it a bit odd that they ate food as well as drank blood but had soon come to the conclusion that the idea everyone had of a blood sucking undead thing was utterly wrong.
If he were asked what a real vampire was Harry would perhaps think a bit before answering that they were a different type of person not adding they they were magic as well. Harry wasn't allowed to speak of magic you see. That was one of the first things the Dursleys had 'taught' him. That they were magic was undeniable, even if you hadn't seen Osset're, Hylaarr embodied the mystical and unexplained just by the way he moved. It was as if he were following some pre-written script that only he could see, and he followed it as if measured by it.
If that wasn't magic Harry would eat one of Vernon's socks, unwashed and weeks old. With that unappetizing thought Harry sat himself at a careful distance from the two vampires, who had curled up entwined in each other and sat devouring the miniature feast. Hylaarr had reclined upon a divan in a sprawl, Osset're pulled to sit between his legs, his back against the Dominant's chest.
Hylaarr had his right arm curled around his mate, his hand resting possessively against Osset're's stomach and was feeding him bit of food with his left hand. Osset're was purring in pleasure, making little noises and only occasionally shifting in a restless way. Harry thought it curious that while Osset're loved eating, he was nearly obsessed with being fed. It could have been a vampire thing but Harry had the sneaking suspicion that it was purely an Osset're thing.
Carefully, waiting for those times when Hylaarr was popping little mouthfuls into Osset're's mouth, Harry helped himself the food closest to them even though it was a reach to get at. He was careful to only pick things they had already started on and he ate fast just in case they might look his way. It was odd that although they couldn't see him and, once Osset're had even walked though him, Harry could interact with everything as if he were actually there.
The things he touched were solid; he could pick things up, move them around, even hold them though he was careful to never hang onto something to long lest a vampire look his way. Only Osset're had ever seen him touching something once a while back, and Harry would have laughed at the look on his face when he saw what he thought was a flower hanging in midair if he hadn't been so scared of being found out. But the small boy was cautious and was careful to never let either of them see something that might make them worry and investigate. He worried his lip at the thought of Hylaarr ever noticing something hanging about in midair. The dark haired vampire was a suspicious creature and would have kept at discovering any secret with all the many resources at his disposal, and if he couldn't explain what he had seen he would forever be suspicious after that. Therefore Harry was grateful he had such a cautious nature and kept at it, taking nothing for granted. He loved it here, this was the only place he felt safe, and he never wanted to do anything that might jeopardize that sanctuary.
Suddenly Hylaarr tensed and sat up, careful to hold on to Osset're despite his sudden inattention. He was stiff and tense as he smelled the air with an animal like movement of his head. His eyes darted around, peering into corners and sharply watching the shadows as if waiting for something so hop out and yell boo! After a moment Harry felt the air nearly hum with something, Osset're snapping to attention when it did, and then the shadows did explode, black man shapes tumbling from the corners of the room, illuminated in the sun's dying rays.
Each had a gleaming weapon in their hands and some had two with more strapped on their person in various ways. Only one didn't carry any weapons, a rather scary looking man with a mane of brown hair and wild eyes. Flames poured out his hands though and shadows danced around his feet, every so often solidifying into an almost recognizable shape with multicoloured glowing eyes and sharp rows of teeth. Both Hylaarr and Osset're were on their feet before the boiling of the shadows had erupted and both had immediately attacked as targets presented themselves. Hylaarr had suddenly found a gleaming sword, the blade a curious white metal, and had beheaded two dark clad men before Harry could even blink.
Harry just sat there in shock at the sight not even cringing in acknowledgment of the danger until a sudden explosion of fire and ice cause him to glance at Osset're and the scary wild man. Suddenly he was uncomfortably aware of the fact that these people were here to kill the vampire Lord and his mate and although Harry hadn't been able to be effected by anything before it wasn't a certain thing and now really wasn't the time to explore that.
Harry quickly slid to the floor and scooted underneath the chair he had been in, watching as Hylaarr attacked again and again heading for a goal that Harry couldn't see. The five year old was nearly in shock at the violence before him. He had seen blood and pain before, all his own inflicted on him by his uncle and occasionally his aunt in a rage, but this was far beyond what the Dursleys had ever done beyond what his mind had ever conjured as an idea of extreme punishment, indeed even contemplated might exist.
The beheading of a man, despite being garbed head to toe in black, was a gruesome thing, blood and bits of white flying about that Harry dimly recognized as bone. Each of the attackers screamed as Hylaarr's blade bit into them, and Harry cringed though he knew they had come here with the intent to do the same.
What shocked Harry the most though was the fact that it was Hylaarr doing all of the killing and maiming of the battle, Osset're attention held completely by the dark mage that rained down a storm of magic upon him, and Hylaarr drawing the attack of what seemed like an unending swarm of enemies. And what's more he wasn't hurt in the least, in fact he looked much as if he were enjoying the challenge, his terrifying fanged grin the result of no few deadly hesitations. Harry's mind could barely wrap around this. The Hylaarr he knew, though often aggressive and violent at times, as seemed the normal for vampires, would never truly hurt anyone. Harry didn't want to believe what he was seeing but had no choice.
Finally Hylaarr reached the goal that had held his attention from the beginning, a taller man, with black hair nearly as long as Osset're's white, who, despite the mask covering his face, was clearly a vampire. He too held a sword and moving to meet the vampire lord the two then began a deadly dance. The other's milling about seemed to divide themselves between Hylaarr and Osset're doing what they could to attack each Kiinn locked in battle, obviously hoping to aid their companions, though they weren't having much luck getting near the storm of magic that surrounded the two dueling mages, and quite a few had gone down as poorly aimed spell went awry. Harry took in all of this from the divan recently abandoned by the two vampires where he had moved in order to watch both Hylaarr and Osset're.
Despite how terrifying he found this and his new fear of how dangerous the vampires he loved were he couldn't help but watch, biting his lip each time Hylaarr's blurred movements faded and he could see a new wound on the dark man, holding his breath each time the blurry storm of magic around Osset're and his attacker flared or changed colour with a new spell.
Despite Hylaarr's rather blaise attitude towards this attack, obvious in the lazy way he moved at times toying with those who fought desperately to harm him and the little snarky remarks on posture and technique he shot to the tall vampire he dueled as well, Harry had a horrible feeling about the outcome of this battle.
He watched from his crouching position on the divan and kept his eyes glued to Hylaarr occasionally darting a glance at the magic storm around Osset're in hopes he would be able to spot the elven vampire. He wanted to warn them somehow, tell them to run, something bad was about to happen, but even if by some miracle he could make himself heard in this strange dream world he would never be able to get the attention of either vampire without the enemies hearing it too and what reason would they have to believe Harry anyway?
The battle held his attention so throughly Harry was puzzled when something pulled his eyes away. Looking about in a distracted fashion Harry finally spotted what it was and froze. Two glowing, unnaturally blue eyes, nearly neon in colour were looking at him. To his left, hunched over in a peculiar posture, was one of the dark mages shadow things, and this one looked rather solid at the moment.
It resembled a cat, if a cat could sit up like a person and had black skin that drifted a bit in place like smoke but still seemed stretched around a skeletal frame. Its paws were more like hands, though the claws that were visible were nearly three times each finger, and the tail that wrapped around its legs was studded along its length climbing up the spine to the head with thin, wicked looking spikes.
'Like a dragon cat made of smoke.' Harry thought in near hysteria, watching the thing watch him. Both were frozen. The reason for Harry's state was painfully obvious. The shadow thing could see him. Finally it cocked its head in a dog like way and chirruped at him. Harry blinked in shock, almost leaning forward to better hear the thing. He could have sworn the thing had talked... Then, abruptly, the shadow disappeared, losing all solid angles and collapsing into smoke that sucked itself into non-existence with a whoosh.
Before Harry could even acknowledge that curiosity the storm of magic around Osset're and the dark mage abruptly disintegrated just at Hylaarr scored a killing thrust on the tall vampire. Both those actions signalled the end of the battle and the rest of the black clad men started fleeing even as the twin golden doors exploded open, vampires swarming in and attacking the attackers with wild battle calls.
In moments it was over and all left alive were apparently friends, Hylaarr who stood panting harshly his sword lowered and held loosely, Osset're who stood arrogant and triumphant, and the dark mage who kneeled a bit away from Osset're on all fours apparently unable to move. Harry trembled in relief and slumped forward against the back of the divan watching the defeated dark mage who panted and moaned holding his head as if it were full of fire. Hylaarr barked an order at the vampires and strode to Osset're tiredly but nearly as obsessive about that goal as he had earlier searching out the tall vampire he had duelled.
Harry noted this but couldn't move, eying the defeated man on the marble floor distractedly. Harry was as tired as if he had been fighting too and he could feel tears starting to form which he didn't even try to gulp back. He could hear Hylaarr's sharply questioning Osset're, concern greater that his exhaustion, and then embracing the mage ferociously as they both muttered in eleven. Harry caught a few words such as 'mage' and 'weak' and something that was a curse though Harry didn't know what it meant.
His mind drifted and Harry felt as if he were floating , almost as if he was slowing disappearing but he knew he wasn't. Suddenly the dark mage quieted and his right hand twitched. Abruptly the boy remember that awful feeling he had that something horrible was about to happen and before he could do more than snap his head up the dark mage surged to his feet and shouted a long tangled sentence that trembled with the magic in it.
A part of Harry's mind wailed, and he knew suddenly without know how he knew that Hylaarr and Osset're were the target. Indeed, a black cloud rose about the dark mage swirling with bits of red and green light and shot out, speeding towards the pair who had noticed but too late to do anything. A part of Harry was screaming and another growling in rage and another mourning hysterically. All of Harry's being focused on the dark mage in front him facing the pair of vampires who Harry had learned to love without reservation and the dark cloud of pain and wailing and death speed towards them.
A part of Harry exploded and suddenly the dark mage in front of him wailed and collapsed. Yet the dark cloud didn't, and Harry trembled as something leaked out of him and touched the cloud eating all the green light just as it touched Osset're who had stepped forward to meet it with a mage shield thrown up just in time. The shield blurred and failed at that first touch though and the darkness struck Osset're and seeped into him quicker than Hylaarr could move. Osset're trembled in shock and collapsed as Hylaarr released a hissing scream of despair.
Harry wanted to scream and cry in despair too but the leaking had finished as soon as the green was gone and with it Harry could feel an empty space inside him, that whimpered with the loss and burned achingly. Then darkness claimed his vision and he felt himself fall into the black.
July 12th
Afternoon.
Harry moaned and woke to find himself on a bed the soft sun gently laying across him like a dog sleeping on his lap. Harry blinked as memory returned and suddenly terror surged. He shot up despite the pain in his body and in his head. Looking around wildly he searched for Osset're but suddenly realized he wasn't there anymore. Gulping he eyed the paisleys on the duvet and everything clicked, he was at the Dursley's, and for some unexplained reason he was upstairs in Dudley's second bedroom on the bed he had made up for Marge Dursley.
Harry felt back against the pillow with a groan. Everything he had ever known about the Dursley's shaken. They had never, not once, ever given him anything in the way of comfort. Not when he was sick, not after the nightmares that had him screaming enough to wake a heavy sleeper like his uncle, and never after a punishment not even when Vernon had gone to far and the lashes on Harry's back bled and refused to close even after Harry had applied the ointment Petunia had thrown in the cupboard.
He couldn't understand why they were doing it now, when all Harry wanted for once was to be left in the cupboard to fade back into the dream scape that would tell him how Osset're was.
If he were dead... Harry moaned and tears leaked from eyes that hurt, as if he'd been crying for hours. Leaked. That word triggered something and Harry distractedly sought out the memory. Oh. He remembered. When the dark mage fell, when the dark cloud shot towards them and he touched it and something inside him ate the green. Something that had leaked out to do so.
Harry frowned and tried to focus. He remembered feeling it, inside him and he wondered if really were there... Harry gasped when he touched that place, that had been so empty before. Now it was filled to the brim with dance liquid light. He could almost see it though his eyes were open, 'What is that?' he murmured to himself silently. That place, the liquid light, felt a bit like the air did when Osset're did magic. Harry's eyes widened in shock.
"I can do magic?" He whispered. The words felt loud in the empty room, strange coming from his mouth. Harry hardly ever talked. He was quiet and remained unnoticed often because of it. He really only ever spoke to answer his aunt or uncle and to occasionally ask a question, usually regarding a chore, which had the Dursley's glaring at him in outrage every time.
He shook his head to clear that distracting line of thought and turned back to the pool, no more of a cup, of liquid light inside him. Carefully he 'touched' it, the stuff inside was cool and pleasant to the touch and when he pulled his 'hand' back he could feel it clinging to it like fluffy honey. It wasn't heavy but it was remarkable that he 'held' it in what seemed like another hand. Wonderingly he moved that hand to touch his left real one and the stuff, the magic that clung there drifted of to touch his fingers.
Suddenly the pain he hadn't even acknowledged disappeared and Harry made a soft noise of delight. Magic could heal! He brought the 'hand' to his head and the magic drifted to it much faster. Abruptly his head no longer hurt, indeed the dizzy feeling he had was gone and even his eyes, which had aching with a grimy rawness that told him he'd been crying in his sleep had gone.
Wonderingly he looked at the 'hand.' There no longer was liquid light clinging to it but Harry was still aware of the cup of liquid light inside him. He couldn't imagine ever not being so again and wondered how he could have possibly missed it before.
A happiness so brilliant it brought tears to the child's eyes lit up inside of Harry. He had magic! He was special! Like Osset're and Hylaarr and ... Harry hummed in delight unaware what he might have added to that sentence. Then just as the happiness came the knowledge that shook Harry back into thinking though the happiness didn't dim, indeed it merely quieted down and smoldered in glee. The Dursley's could never know.
If they ever found out it would be very bad for Harry. For one they hated anything that wasn't normal, anything different, anything extreme. For another if they found out it existed, and Harry had it of all people, their hatred would know no bounds. Harry frowned in concern before nodding slowly, making a decision. They could never know. Meaning Harry had to keep it so secret so hidden they didn't even know he had a secret. Which meant another thing. No healing. Harry winced at that but the loss was tolerable. He never had such before and really he only mourned the healing because he liked that it was magic. Magic like Osset're had. Harry's smile abruptly was gone.
Osset're. He was hurt, possibly dead, and here was Harry fiddling with magic. Harry frowned in worry. If he were there he could heal him. But he was here, in Dudley's second bedroom. Harry frowned at that and shook his head. He still didn't know why but never mind. Perhaps... he couldn't. Harry trembled at the thought but then his mind turned to Osset. Beautiful, magical, loving Osset're who could be hurt or dying and Hylaarr. He would be broken, lost if that happened.
Harry breathed in deeply. He couldn't let that happen.
July 14th Afternoon.
Petunia Dursley opened the door and was greeted with the sight of the boy sitting up watching her walk in the door. He always did that, watched things. With is overly large green eyes, so like Lily's, and those broken and taped glasses like his fathers. She sneered at the sight but was secretly, not relieved no but perhaps less cross at seeing him looking much better then he had for the past two days.
Indeed he looked as if Christmas had come, if the boy were normal and could be given Christmas like every other child out there. She eyed him suspiciously and the happiness dimmed so suddenly, she wondered if she had even saw it. Nervous at the thought she pushed that away and studied the boy. He did look better she observed grudgingly. Still pale and small in the bed he'd dropped in by Vernon the night before.
She had thought there were more bruises, though he still was speckled in them and the wounds she knew were under his clothes were still paining him as he held himself a certain way Petunia had come to recognize. Perhaps they hadn't been as serious as she had thought, hitting an unconscious child must not hurt them as much as when they were awake. Neither she nor her husband had cared about that last night, when they had been woken out of a sound sleep by the most gawd -awful screaming and carrying on the boy had indulged in to date!
Vernon had tried to deal with him as usual but this time he wouldn't wake and the beating did nothing to stop the screams and tears. Finally they had moved him to Dudley's second bedroom, vacated just hours before by Marge, in hopes that if anyone did hear the carrying on the could claim night terrors or some such nonsense. No one had heard. After a bit in the bed the boy had quieted abruptly and dropped back into the unconscious state he had maintained since the night of Marge's arrival and that disaster in the kitchen. Well, perhaps not disaster as the food had turned quite well made, but the broken dish! How dare that boy!
Breaking her mother's casserole dish out of anger at a few harsh word! The nerve! The boy had gotten what he deserved and she felt no sympathy despite being unable to wake him for three days. The freak was an absolute menace! She already had lists of punishments for the boy when he had recovered enough to stop lying about. Now the freak was awake and it was about time too!
"Awake are you?" Petunia snapped annoyed when the boy merely looked at her. Truly the boy must be simple minded to look so blank all the time! A freak in every way then! Even Lily would've have been horrified at that, a thought that Petunia actually smile. The boy's eyes widened and Petunia gloated at the fear she saw rise in them. "Well, since you are then I assume you'll be down to make dinner soon then." Petunia's smile widened. "It'll be your chore from now on."
The boy dropped his eyes at that and his voice came out as a croak when he answered. "Yes, Aunt." She sneered at the sound and address, awful to be reminded of that fact every time the boy opened his mouth but he was only so intelligent and she couldn't get another response trained into him at this late date. "Aunt..how long?" Her eyes narrowed at him, though his eyes remained on the duvet and his shoulders hunched submissively, his hands clutched at the cloth and Petunia frowned nervously. He hadn't done that before. And the fact that he was asking questions! So soon after such a punishment. It was this room! He was getting airs, thinking he was normal. Her lips drew back in a snarl. That freak of a boy would never be normal!
"Four days." She bit out. "Marge left yesterday and Vernon put you in here to keep that dog from scratching the cupboard door and couldn't be bothered with returning you." A lie but it wasn't as if the boy would know. "You certainly will be returning to the cupboard tonight, and be staying there indefinitely." The boy's head nodded.
"Good, I'll expect you downstairs in 15 minutes, boy!" Petunia turned to leave, relieved to be able to escape the freak's presence. Only 6 more years, and then those people would come to fetch him. They'd see what he was like, even freaks like them wouldn't be able to ignore the fact that he wasn't normal!
She tensed when she heard a deep breath. The boy was going to speak again! How dare..
"I'm not feeling very well, Aunt." Petunia whirled around in a rage to look at the still bowed form.
"What?" Her voice was very quiet, but was whiplash fast and filled with rage. She could feel herself trembling and tried to convince herself that yes it was rage.
"I'm..I'm not feeling well, Aunt."His voice was even softer now and Petunia had to take a step forward to hear, she was visibly trembling now and was absurdly grateful the boy wasn't looking at her. at his next words that feeling evaporated. "I think I need to go to a hospital." His voice was shaking as he said that but she didn't even notice. The boy was... he was... She was very nearly hyperventilating. He was defying her! She couldn't think. She had to escape. Had to tell Vernon.
"No."She snapped and turned to leave, nearly running in her haste to reach the door. Her hand was trembling and when it reached for the knob it missed and she had to try again.
"I'll tell." The voice was barely a whisper but it echoed around the room as if shouted. He sucked in a breath noisily and said it again. "I'll tell. What you do to me."
Petunia nearly whimpered in despair but rage took over and had her spinning about and stalking over to the boy, rage, dammit rage making her tremble. "You'll do what!" Her voice was an ugly thing she didn't even recognize and she forced herself to grab his hair and pull his face up to hers. His eyes were huge at this and his entire body trembled beneath her hand. Good.
But it wasn't. He continued. "I'll tell a neighbor." His lilyeyes bore into her. "Even if no one believes me they'll hate you forever."
Oh god! She wanted to scream. With a shriek she did. She screamed and cursed and spit. Her fingernails dug into the child's face and soon blood ran down her hands. It wasn't enough. She threw him in the wall, still gripping hair, and smashed his head against the wood paneling, again, and again, and again. He never fought, never made a sound and after the first time his head hit the wall he was limp and dead weight in her grasp but still she continued, screaming obscenities, tears running down her face. Dead, dead, dead. She wanted that boy dead like she never had before! Now she knew why Vernon continued to hit an unconscious child. He was hoping if he hit hard enough it would never wake up.
July 14th
Evening
Harry woke trembling, his eyes taking in his surroundings in relief so great he burst into tears. Crying softly he huddled on the bench, whimpering softly. There was no pain, not here, but the memories chased themselves around in his skull nearly making him sick. He had done it. He couldn't believe that he had. More he couldn't believe his aunt had been so cruel. He had never imagined...
Harry huddled there for how long he didn't know. Finally his tears stopped. And he remembered why he had done that. Osset're! He rolled over and pushed himself off the bench, hitting the ground in a run and, unheeding of everything, hastened to the bed. And there he was.
Osset're lay on the bed, still and so pale he looked dead, tucked into Hylaarr's arms and held so gently it made Harry want to cry. But he couldn't. Hylaarr was there, eyes open but staring unseeingly at nothing, and Harry knew even if he were visible the vampire wouldn't have seen him. Carefully he scrambled up onto the bed and knelt next to the still mage. He hope this worked. It had to. Breathing softly he reached into himself and looked for the cup of liquid light.
For a moment he couldn't find it and panic had him trembling again but wait... there it was. Oh so gently he 'reached' into it with two 'hands' filling them and bringing them forward to touch the elven vampire's chest, directly where the darkness had sunk into him. Breathing harshly he pushed the magic into the vampire he loved, holding on to that love when a slippery surface resisted and finally broke letting the magic seep in. Gasping Harry trembled when the magic sunk in far faster than the dark had and then continued to go into the vampire, leaking out of Harry so fast he was dizzy. His 'hands' emptied but the magic raced down his 'arms' to filled them again and again until he was struggling to pull out more, 'tugging' on that cup, draining it to the last drop. Finally there was no more left to give and he was forced to drop his hands, his real hands which had molded with the other ones to help push in the magic.
He swayed, and couldn't help himself from leaning over finally laying down in front of Osset're and Hylaarr. Unable to take his eyes away, he watched them and it was only because he was watching that she saw swirling of magic rising off Osset're and gently kissing Hylaarr before settling down to hum around the vampire mage.
Slowly colour seeped into his face and his breathing softened into that of true sleep just as Hylaarr did the same. After a few moments passed it was obvious that both were deep asleep, where no dream could even touch.
Harry sighed in absolute relief and allowed himself to move a bit closer to Osset're, just a breath away from touching him. Sleep began to tug him down as well and he fought it, wanting to watch over the two vampires, to make sure everything was well.
He lost the battle and felt himself falling into a peaceful abyss. But softly before he did he dared reach out, and for the first time touched one of the vampire's he loved so much. Smoothing a small hand down the soft skin of Osset's face he couldn't help but nearly cry at the longing he felt. He wanted so much for them to love him. Forget the Dursleys, he wanted to be their son. Trembling he pulled his hand away and closed his eyes.
"I have magic, you know." Harry whispered softly into the quiet. "I healed you." Perhaps they heard that, somewhere in their dreams. Perhaps when they remembered they would be grateful. Perhaps they would love him a little bit if just for that.
So I know I've been updating like mad since I started writing this story but as of this chapter I'm now sure I will keep writing so I'll probably be more comfortable in take my time. I want to continue writing chapters long like this but as I will be moving in a month I have to devote some time to packing. I also work and do need sleep so this won't be fast in finishing.
Love you all lots. Enjoy.
Fitful