Dislcaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
A/N: Not so long to wait this time! And this is the final chapter! There is of course, the epilogue, but i'll talk more about that at the end. For now, read, enjoy and dont forget to comment. Thankyou all very much for your reviews last chapter, and i hope this one doesn't dissapoint!
Warnings: Violence, Lucius and Slash.
Broken Clocks
Harry stood, frozen as a rabbit in the doorway, awaiting the pistol to be shot, the bullet to be fired.
His eyes were set on the man sitting so leisurely, limbs spread so elegantly, over the tight leather of the armchair. White hair hung, gleaming silver in the moonlight that streamed through the window, past the softly flapping curtain.
Time stood still, as it always does in times like these, where the prey can do nothing but remain, motionless as it heart beats out a frantic pace, making up for all the beats that may soon be cut short, pupils dilated to keep the hunter in sight.
No breath sounded in the room, as still and silent as a millpond, only disturbed by the gentle ripple of a leaf, gently brushing against its surface.
In this case, the leaf was seen upon the cold face, as pale lips stretched to an indulgent smirk. A precursor to chaos.
"Now, Harry isn't it, why don't you come here? It would be nice to see you better; the creature that my dear son has found so…enrapturing."
The voice slid as silk through the air, and Harry swallowed fretfully, glancing widened eyes to his sire's direction. The younger blond said and did nothing, a curios, tightly closed expression warping his face, grey eyes as desolate as artic plains.
Jittery, he stepped lightly into the room, looking fixedly at Ginny's dead form in an excuse not to look at the man watching his every move so intently.
This was Draco's father…the man that Narcissa had wished to speak to Draco about all those days ago in Paris. They looked remarkably similar, pale complexion, flaxen hair and grey, penetrating eyes. Though, if questioned, he would say that Draco inherited more of his mother than his father. At any rate, the vampire gave off a very different feeling than the one he was used to.
A much greater difference.
As he hesitantly crept forward, at a loss of what else he could do, he felt a chill enter his body, damp and cold; the unrelenting type that usually comes with illness, seeping deep into the bones. It made him shiver, and jerk slightly, a great weight upon his chest that felt like to choke him, even though he possessed no need to draw breath to his lungs.
As he chanced a look upwards, he couldn't help but tremble as the intense wave of pressure washed over him from head to toe, bathing him in icy fingers. As he finally met those keen eyes, he could have sworn the image of blood, freshly spilled and staining white snow, flashed across his mind, making him hitch in his steps.
Halting for just a moment, he found himself unable to move once again to push himself forward, and so remained where he was.
Lucius seemed almost amused by the child's stuttering, but it was a cold amusement, the type kept by cats for their mice.
This was it? This was the weak, pathetic little thing that had caught his son's attention? How pitifully pointless.
Draco should know better, to at least find something that could have a semblance of worth.
Ahhh, what to do, what to do?
Really, to be considered a good father, he should do his son a favour.
And remove unsightly, unnecessary things that could distract him.
Half lidded eyes slid over to observe Draco's figure; his posture tight and antsy, not unlike waiting for a bomb to fall; maybe the boy knew it…
He paid the other little attention however, and returned his sights to the creature before him, whose luminous green eyes were boring into his side. Such an annoyance.
He rose, without hurry, from the armchair, leather creaking a little in his wake. Smooth steps echoed silently in the room, and Harry balked as he saw Lucius come closer.
He attempted to back up when his personal space was violated but he was too slow, and before he tottered back more than a few meagre steps, his face was caught between long cold fingers, the chill of death not brining even a maudlin lukewarm to his flesh.
As one pointed nail traced his cheek, grey eyes peering deep within him, he couldn't help but shiver, a pit replacing his stomach, leaving him hollow and cold inside, like a numb doll.
He couldn't even break the stare a flicker to see Draco, as he was caught like a fish in a barrel. There was something vicious in those eyes- hating.
Hate for him.
Which made it impossible to get away.
His heart beat against his wishes, a frantic pace, like a beat, a deadly beat of rhythm.
For he could only see one thing in those eyes; death.
More specifically, his own.
It made every instinct scream out to him, furious. Even his newly awakened vampiric pride was cowed, pleading pathetically to dart away from this danger, to the safe embrace of his sire, who surely would not turn him away, but keep him safe, where the end of his short existence would not be nigh.
Fingers twitching, he finally kick started his limbs to do just that, turning as he moved to run. However, he was prematurely jerked back, a death grip on his wrist. Looking back to see vine-like fingers clasped around his suddenly small and fragile wrist.
"Where are you going? I haven't decided what to do with you yet…"
Liar, lies, he could see it, plain as day what Lucius had decided for him, for a reason he couldn't fathom.
"Father…" warned Draco, his first words in what seemed like days.
But Lucius completely ignored his son's rebuke, all attention fixed firmly on the young vampire in his grasp. His features, an icy beauty that was stirred to ugliness in rising anger.
Harry couldn't form a single word, as he was yanked mere inches away from the far older, powerful vampire before him. He had only wanted to return to Draco, nothing more or less; a simple desire easy to fulfil. But at this rate, it appeared that he may never see his beloved sire again, and the feeling of loss that brought to his dead, morose heart was almost unbearable.
He didn't want to die, but trapped as he was, against someone impossibly stronger than himself, he could see nothing else in his future.
…
Why?
Why was he just standing there?
Lucius's face, which had up till now retained a stony, contemptuous indifference, suddenly started to curl, revealing a mask of fury in its wake, fangs bared in a way more menacing than he had ever before seen.
"I just can't see it! What on earth would my son would want with a miserable creature such as yourself!"
His head snapped to the side, fixing Draco himself in its glare.
"And you," he announced frigidly, "should know better than to forge worthless ties such as these!"
And then Harry was under the forceful weight of those eyes, that face and it was all he could do not to yelp as he suddenly was flung as easily as a rag doll, flying through the air, over and over, till he came crashing down in a flurry of stars through a table, the wood breaking to splinters, and on towards an ancient cupboard.
The ceiling shook free some centuries of dust as the room shuddered with the impact, letting it fall like a spider web carpet to the floor.
Wood creaked and crashed, and snapped, and all was still.
Harry felt no pain at first, only a blank numbness that kept his limbs still and limp, his head flopping and eyes unblinking. Then, after seconds that lasted hours yet no time at all, the pain began, stabbing his back repeatedly.
The sooty dust of old, broken wood filled his nose, and as he tumbled down through the broken beams to a heap on the floor he hacked, chest heaving, until blood, thick and deep, erupted in a spout to coat the dust covered floor below. In the light from the open window, it looked almost beautiful, he thought dazedly, head swimming.
"Tch. He can't even die properly…you really are a worthless child."
Upon seeing that the boy was still alive, Lucius carelessly moved forward, languid steps that made no sound. Harry could barely comprehend the force that sent him flying, nor the ominous hand that reached for him. There was no hope that he could move away in time; he was too young, fresh and new to look after himself, or stand up to anyone of the vampire circle. The only reliance he had was upon Draco, his sire.
Who, with gritted teeth, insides twisting, undulating with thick threads of rage and spite, broke the reaching hand from its intended destination.
Lucius looked up, surprise flashing briefly before anger set his features once more as his hand was fisted in an iron grip by the younger blond that was now in standing before him. Between him and his prey.
"What do you think you're doing?!" he demanded.
Draco's face remained stony, never wavering.
"You have no right to interfere with my business. What are you doing?"
Lucius hissed at the impertinence, eyes flashing bloodlust red.
"I am merely removing an unwanted, unneeded obstacle from your path…you should be thankful."
Silver eyes shone in the dark, everything still save for the fluttering curtain.
"And I should decide what is required or not!"
Fangs bared and teeth flashing, Harry could barely watch through hazy, filmed eyes as Draco shoved against his father, and next moment he knew, they had slammed forcefully through the opposite wall, ancient bricks and plaster tumbling down in a dust filled cloud, obscuring the quarrelling vampires from sight.
A snarl was issued, and a hiss replied, thuds reigned down out of his line of sight, and the sound of crumbling furniture could be heard.
Harry weakly rolled himself onto his stomach, head pressed against the floorboards, attempting to clear his chest. He spat once again, thick, clotted blood dripping from between his lips. He stared dispassionately at it, as his body ached with the strain. He had never really fed properly; Draco was something to keep him going, the lifeless blood packs from the hospital no true substitute. His body was already weakened and the knowledge that his sire was in danger drained the strength and will from his limbs like leeches.
The pain dulled his senses, and he barely lifted his head as he felt the immense weight of a vampire's powers descend upon him. There was another crash he didn't see, a hissing snarl of anger, and then soft footsteps that halted right next to him.
He didn't have to look to know that it wasn't Draco.
He writhed half heartedly as he was dragged up, a chokehold on his neck.
"Such a pitiful creature you are…so weak and fragile within my grasp…"
The mused words rang within his skull.
Images flashed before him, short and sharp, as crisp as if he was truly revisiting them.
Draco…
The man, vampire…who changed his life so much for the better, who gave him a second chance, and provided such care, love even, for him.
His beloved sire…he didn't want to leave him!
He began to struggle more ferociously, but Lucius didn't even flicker as he held him pinned, well up in the air, seeming amused by the vain flails of his small, pathetic prey.
"There's no use for it…"
He would take such delight, in squeezing the pale, lithe little throat; watch the light die from his eyes. Maybe he would crack his limbs first though…it would be so wonderful to see him fold, like paper in his hands.
He tightened his grip further; thick, sharp nails digging in to pierce the skin, sending dark rivulets of blood to drip morosely down.
Blood.
It was all over him.
The wood had chipped and scrapped him, leaving bloody scratches. And the back of the dresser had smashed his head open, leaving a thick, matted clot of blood, which soaked through his hair and down his face. Another piece of ancient wood had broken and splintered, right through the boy's stomach, just below the chest, leaving a sickly gouge in its wake, leaving another wound for that pretty red to drip oh so carelessly from.
Beautiful.
Red, in all its dark hues, gleaming like rubies against pale, creamy skin.
In death, he would be just as beautiful, no, more so, than the girl lying on the sofa.
Death was so wondrously fickle like that; a delight to see.
He could almost taste it, in the air. A tantalising aroma that called him; just a little tighter and the boy's neck would snap, as easy as a fragile songbird's.
"Enough."
He was just mere moments away when he was rammed away from his prize.
His eyes widened in disappointment as he was flung away from his reward, a ruffled Draco blocking the view as Harry crumpled to the ground.
The younger blond was practically glowing with dark energy, a monster left to stare murderous with red eyes that gleamed.
As to be expected of his son.
Lucius came to a graceful landing, but remained where he was, crouched by the doorway. He cocked his head a moment, surveying Draco with unseeing eyes.
He summed up the pros and cons… more than a little irritated that Draco was actually putting up the effort to protect the weak little creature.
He cast another curios glance to the huddled, bloodied brunette on the floor. Perhaps there may be something else to him; perhaps it would do to wait a while, until the boy could put up a fight himself. It could be interesting, and most definitely worthwhile for proper prey.
Yes…and he felt no need to detour and fight with his son any longer, no matter how foolish he thought him to be.
"How aggravating…"
He cast one more last glace at the pair of them, before, he simply vanished, the dust swirling in his wake.
The curtain flapped once more, before going still, the only sound Harry's desperate pants, as Draco stood unyielding in front of him, every muscle tensed to strike.
Minutes ticked by, and nothing came, save for the ever ticking sands of time.
Licking caked, and dry lips, Harry managed a hoarse whisper.
"Is he gone…?"
Draco, eyes no longer red, but still shining with quicksilver, turned to him slowly, observing his heavily injured charmant.
He was alive, and would live…but only just.
Draco wasn't sure to be grateful for Harry's condition, or not.
But, instead of pondering it, he simply moved forward, crouching down as he brought his arms about Harry's twitching shoulders, bringing the damaged body as close as possibly to his own.
Even weak as he was, Harry managed to turn in the embrace, burying his head into the other's chest, taking solace in the familiar comfort, the familiar scent. The soft, crystal tears of relief that spilled unbidden from his eyes went unmentioned as Draco slowly lifted him from the floor n his arms, cradling him gently like a child.
"It's alright now…so hush…"
The soft, calming feel of lips on his forehead were enough to lull him out of consciousness, and his last knowledge was of darkness wrapping round the both of them, and then no more.
It was a crisp autumnal morning, with frost glazing the grass blades and their breaths coming out as billows of white clouds. It was a silent morning, with no sound of bird's twittering, only the scrape of shoes on gravel pavement and the skid of cases.
Hermione pulled a lock of bushy hair from her face as she bent over next to the car door, glancing towards Ron, who was walking towards them, face pale as a sheet, blue eyes rimmed. He must have finished up with the police officer.
She could hear his muttering as he came closer.
"…stupid idiots, should just go hang themselves…"
She watched, her glassy eyes full of dulled concern.
"What's the matter Ronald?" she asked, voice a hollow lilt.
Ron frowned deeply, coming to a stop a few feet away, crossing his arms over his unzipped brown jacket.
"The fucking bastard didn't believe a word I said," he intoned bitterly, "and when I mentioned that house, he simply waved it away, saying nothing could be done! Not even the coroner-…though they'll 'make the proper arrangements for her transport to the family accommodations for proper treatment and burial.'"
His face was contorted as he spat on the ground.
"I'm sorry Ron," she whispered, face blank, "I didn't really believe that old man when he said…"
And all for nothing, she thought wearily, seizing her hands around her purse that she clutched desperately to herself, cursing the contents. She had visited Dumbledore one last time and he, in all of his batty wisdom had simply frowned in worry, brought trembling fingers to his lips before burying himself in a back room. When he returned he came flourishing a wad of paper notes, claiming compensation and 'grave sorrow'.
"I'm beginning to think Aberforth is never going to be proved wrong…"
Hermione had left without a single word.
She closed her eyes, images from just the previous night clamouring around her brain. Once Harry had left them, they'd been forced to stay until daybreak, whereupon Ron had insisted they go to the police. They'd ended up at the hospital instead, to treat Luna for her leg, who was currently sitting up in the passenger's seat, bandaged up and explaining to Colin about the beasts from the night before.
Something about Nargles.
She couldn't care less.
They were almost ready to leave, to get this place away and far behind them, but she couldn't resist one last glance over the small town and into the distance, past tree tops where she knew the mansion to be. Where Harry must be.
Harry, her best friend for almost ten years, would not be returning with them. She wasn't even sure that she wanted him to.
A flash of blood, falling down a throat as if it were water made her turn away as she huddled her face deeper into the confines of her coat.
She simply couldn't fathom how it had turned out like this, from such an innocuous phone call from not even a month ago. Both Ginny, and Harry, were taken from them, and she feared, with a worried glance to his tense figure, that Ron would never be the same.
The car was revving behind her, the exhaust spiting liquid fumes into the cold air, and she could feel the door she was leaning against vibrate.
There was no more reason for them to linger, the faster they could be removed, the better.
But still, she did not make to move from her place.
Just a few more moments…then they could go.
She stared at the ground, nudging a piece of gravel with the side of her shoe, hearing as if from far away the little clink it made against the others.
Even with the raised hairs on the back of her neck, she didn't raise her head right away, a wistful, childish notion filling her head that perhaps she could keep time still, and goodbyes paused.
But, it was obviously not a battle she could win, and she eventually turned her gaze towards the lone figure standing a little way away. Ron glanced at the same person, but averted his eyes. She knew, however, that he was indeed listening.
"Harry," she acknowledged, looking over at the exceedingly pale man, his body remarkably smooth and without visible flaw. The tight rings about his eyes however, gave away the lingering pain.
She took no real heed of the fact.
"Hermione," he replied, just as flatly.
She stared morosely at him, arguments, words, flowing to the tip of her tongue as always. He could still come with them, things could go back to how they were, and they could still keep in touch.
But she knew just as he did, that these things were meaningless and useless; mere words that meant nothing at all.
For none of those promises could ever be.
"I suppose this is goodbye," he said, not seeming too fazed by it.
"Yes," she uttered sadly, her throat and eyes tight, but too numb anymore to shed tears over him.
He appeared to ponder her for a moment, head cocked to the side, before a light smile twitched his lips up just a little.
"Goodbye," he said simply, and turned to go.
"Wait!" she called, dashing forward a few steps, crashing through the gravel, only to halt when verdant eyes met her own.
"I…I just wanted to say…" she stuttered breathlessly, fumbling before she bit her tongue, composing herself.
"I just wanted to tell you that I- we'll miss you, and I hope you have a- a good life, in the future. A happy one."
She smiled weakly and let her arms fall limply to her sides.
"…You too."
Her smile widened for just a moment before she span on her heel, practically jumping in the car door and slamming it behind her, not giving a single glance back, staring determinedly ahead out the windscreen.
Ron said nothing for a moment, and simply crunched through the gears, sending the car jolting forward off down the road.
Neither of them, however, could deny that they stared at the wing mirrors, which showed the last glimpses of their long-term friend, before he disappeared, hidden from view by the curve of the road.
Harry watched his old friends disappear, out of sight and out of his life. He could feel a certain melancholy in the air, but didn't feel sad himself.
Truthfully, he was more concerned by the barely healed wounds of the previous night, but it had felt right to see them off, no matter.
However, with them now gone, he was keen to find a bed, or some blood, in whichever order, and to rest. He had an entire eternity waiting for him, all by his sire's side.
For now, he could afford to take things slow.
He sighed, watching curiously as no answering billow of white smoke appeared in the cool air.
Smiling a little he turned away, ignoring the pain as he went to return to the house.
Draco had commented that they'd be leaving it's confines soon, that they could find much better accommodations elsewhere as Draco had no intentions to go back to Sleep.
For himself, Harry didn't much care where they went, the fact that he could go with Draco being all he needed.
All he needed to explore this new life of his.
After all, he didn't want to waste his second chance.
A/N: Ahh, i'm starting to get a bit emotional, its so near the end! I hope this chapter didn't dissapoint you, and that you like Harry's progression as a character through this fic. Bittersweet endings...#sniffs However! There is the epilogue to go, and it is worth waiting for! For, it will include some much waited vampy-ness, and the sweet calls of M rated smex. You all thought i'd forgotton, hadn't you? But, never fear, the yummy sex scene will be here! So, with that to look forward to, i leave you. Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and dont forget to drop a review on the way out!