June 5, 1985
Draco beams as he tears through the last green and silver-wrapped package. A brand new wizarding chess set, the pawns already strutting around haughtily. He casts it aside, eyeing the towering chocolate cake the house elves had prepared. It looked too perfect to eat.
"Can I have a slice, Mother?" he asks, licking his lips.
Narcissa smiles indulgently. "Of course, dragon. But first, why don't you show your friends your lovely new gifts?"
Pansy, Blaise, and Theo ooh and ahh over the miniature broomstick models, the junior potions kit, and the enchanted toy soldiers marching in formation.
In the corner, Draco's father's voice carries over the chatter. "...preposterous they'd allow a mudblood a seat on the Wizengamot. If things had gone differently..."
"Lucius!" Narcissa's tone hardens. "Mind your language in front of the children."
But Draco already heard that word many times before from sneaking out of bed to listen at his father's office door when he had secret late-night meetings. He puffs out his chest importantly.
"Come on, let's play Conquerors," he tells his friends, opening the new board game box.
As the game progresses, Theo severely outnumbers Draco's army, cornering him. Just as Theo closes in for the kill, he hesitates.
"I don't want to hurt anyone," Theo says in a worrying voice, pulling back some of his pieces. "Let's have a truce."
Draco's eyes narrow calculatingly, but he nods. "Alright, truce accepted."
The moment Theo relaxes his guard, Draco strikes without mercy. His remaining soldiers swarmed Theo's soldiers from all sides in a ruthless blitz attack.
Within minutes, Draco's army leaves Theo's army decimated on the board.
"No!" Theo cries out in dismay, "That's not fair!"
"You fool!" Draco crows victoriously. "Showing mercy is what mudbloods like you do. And that's why you'll always lose!"
Harsh laughter erupts from Pansy and Blaise, while Theo fights back angry, humiliated tears. Draco basks in his conquest, knowing compassion and mercy are weaknesses to be exploited. Draco misses the worried look his mother gives him, too busy focusing on the look of pride on his father's face.
Draco hisses clutching his head in his hands as the memory fades and curses himself once again for not doing more in-depth research on the ritual before using it. He worries about what they mean, these vivid visions of his past, summoned up from his mind as if he experienced them yesterday. In situations like this, he would usually consult Severus or his parent's extensive library, but here there is only him and his memories of his world, that feel further away by the day.
Despite the freezing rain and biting wind, Harry stands outside the office of Hogwarts High School, his hand trembling as he debates whether or not to enter. Part of him longs for the warmth inside, but another part is filled with dread at what awaits him. With a deep breath, he finally musters up some Gryffindor courage and pulls open the door. As he walks towards the reception desk, his stomach churns with anxiety as he watches her fidget nervously. He knows this interaction will not be an easy one. It never is with fans.
"You're Harry Swan?" she asks, her voice shaking with anticipation.
He stands in front of the adoring woman, feeling his insides knotting with unease. He hates these types of encounters, where people only see him as a famous ballet dancer, daredevil stunt performer, or recently the all-star baseball player.
He longs for someone to see him as just Harry. But he forces himself to play along, ignoring the twinge of annoyance that rises in his chest. It's all part of being a celebrity he thinks as he forces a smile onto his face. He has spent hours practicing his interview persona in front of the mirror, but it still feels fake.
"Yes, that's me," he responds quickly as he shuffles papers on the desk.
"I'm a huge fan of your ballet performances and my son is obsessed with your stunts," the woman gushes, her eyes filled with admiration.
Harry nods and thanks her in his best interview voice, trying to keep his patience intact. The gushing is both flattering and suffocating at the same time.
"This might be unprofessional, but could I possibly get your autograph?" she asks with an apologetic look.
Harry fights back the urge to roll his eyes and make a snarky comment about the obvious unprofessionalism. Instead, he takes the paper from her and signs it with a practiced hand. But no matter how much he practices, his handwriting will never compare to his godfather's over-the-top flawless script.
"Thank you so much!" she exclaims.
She eyes the paperwork Harry gave her in confusion for a moment as if she forgot that she works here and then realization takes over her face. With the quick competence that Harry wanted from the beginning, she gives him a map and a sheet for all the teachers to sign.
"Just return that at the end of the day!" the receptionist says in a bright voice.
He gives her another tight smile before he opens the door and returns to the rainy outside, fighting against his homesickness for Sirius and Phoenix's hot sun.
Draco straightens his black, blue cervelt fibre 'shawl' with ivory clasps in the front, its luxurious material draping just past his hips like a cloak of royalty. The intricate embroidery of simmering gold threads depicts the constellations of the Black family, serving as a reminder of his pureblood lineage. Beneath this is a cream-coloured Himalayan cashmere 'sweater' that clings to his lithe form and accentuates every contour of his muscular chest. His tight dark silk pants hug his legs tightly, emphasising every powerful movement and sure to catch Potter's eye. He completes the ensemble with leather boots.
"You look ridiculous," Pansy says coming up behind him.
Draco sneers at her. She wears muggle clothes without a hint of wizard heritage in a simple tan cashmere dress that shows too much of her legs to come off as proper attire for someone of her status.
"Is that crocodile leather?" Pansy asks in distaste, her face mired by a frown.
"Maybe." Draco hedges.
Crocodiles seemed like the closest creatures to dragons that Theo's strange magic box, known as a 'computer', could conjure up. Draco relied on this device for all of his clothing purchases. Hours were spent with Theo as he showed Draco the many uses of the tiny buttons on the 'keyboard' and how to navigate through various 'websites' in search of proper attire. Frustrated by their failed trip to the mall, Pansy and Loony had left Draco to fend for himself.
"What is this?" Draco hissed, eyeing the clear, shiny bundle of fabric in his hands. The package slipped and slid between his fingertips, encased in a stiff yet pliant clear covering that confused and irritated him.
"It's wizarding robes," Loony says in a cheerful voice.
"Isn't this what you wanted?" Pansy says in a false falsetto voice.
Draco studies the unmoving 'wizard' illustrated on the front of the package once more, taking in every detail. The muggle depicted is older, with a fake scraggly white beard that hangs down to his protruding stomach. He is dressed in threadbare blue robes adorned with gaudy gold-painted stars, looking more like a clown than a sorcerer. A drooping pointy hat, made of the same flimsy fabric, sits atop his head in a sad attempt at traditional wizard attire.
"What is poly-e-ster?" Draco tries to pronounce the strange word on the label, ignoring Pansy's question.
"It's a synthetic fabric made from-"
"No, I don't want anything made with synthetic fabric." Draco spits out and walks out of the 'shop' if a place that sells such low-quality merchandise can even be called such a thing.
Behind him, he hears Pansy and Loony carry on like he didn't just end the conversation.
"I wonder what wizards wear if they don't wear that," Loony says.
"Why would they wear anything when they can just create the illusion of clothes and walk around covered in warming charms? Then they don't have to bother with all the heavy and tight fabric humans force themselves into." Pansy replies.
Draco stiffens, he needs to reevaluate how much of the original Pansy remains in this story. All of the magic she just mentioned is possible, if not preposterous, and this is an idea she would suggest to do with it.
"But I like clothes," Loony says with a pout, her ghastly turnip earrings swinging in her ears.
"You can wear clothes if you want Luna, it's an imaginary world you can do whatever you want."
Draco takes that back, Pansy would never say that, especially to Loony.
"I think you look nice, Draco," Loony says, coming into his room and drawing his mind away from the bad memory.
Draco gives his outfit another once over, trying to see it through different eyes. If Loony found approval in his outfit there must be something deeply wrong with it.
With his newfound speed, he swiftly removes his clothing and replaces them. The new black silk button-up shirt hugs his frame, emphasising his toned muscles. His leather pants, soft and supple against his skin, exude an air of edginess. Satisfied with his appearance, he slips on a light robe made from Vicuna fabric - the most expensive fabric in the muggle world, according to the magic box. The dark green fabric swirls elegantly around him, delicate strands of real spun silver catching the light. As he admires himself in the mirror, he feels a sense of familiarity wash over him, as if he's back home amongst his finest clothes. Pansy watches him with interest, tilting her head and pursing her lips in contemplation.
"You need a belt," she says and hurries off into his closet to find one.
"This one looks nice too," Loony says, coming up to smile at him in the mirror.
Draco glares at her, feeling his sense of accomplishment wash away.
"Is there any outfit you don't like?" he asks her, eyeing her candy cane striped stockings under her torn denim with disgust.
Loony gives him a curious look, "No, I think everyone should be free to wear whatever they want."
Draco's lips were already curling into a sneer, ready to dismiss her words and mock her for her foolishness. But before he could even utter a word, Pansy's hand shoots out with a triumphant glint in her eyes. Between her fingers dangled a belt of shining silver moons, each one intricately connected to the next. Each moon boasted its unique shape and design, representing all the different phases of the lunar cycle. And at the very end of the chain hung a small but bold silver sun, as if daring Draco to challenge its radiance.
"Perfect!" Pansy exclaims as she tightens the belt around him, drawing the robes close to his body.
Tears prick at the corners of Draco's eyes as he stares at his reflection, feeling a heavy weight in his chest. He longs for his parents, especially his mother who taught him everything he knew about clothes and used to advise him on his outfits. But thoughts of them are quickly replaced with determination and resolve. He can't get distracted now - not when he's so close to meeting Potter and completing the first step towards ending this war. His heart hardens against the ache as he reminds himself of his ultimate goal: seduce and kill Potter, just as the Dark Lord commands. Nothing will stand in his way. Not even his own emotions.
Whispers buzz like gnats over a dead carcass as he makes his way down the hallway to his homeroom.
"Is that Harry Swan?"
"I'd climb him like a tree."
"Isn't he gay?"
"I thought he was straight, didn't he date Cho Chang?"
"According to Skeeter, he cheated on her with that Malcolm guy."
"I'm not surprised you know what they say about bi people."
"Do you think he's on steroids?"
"He has to be to break all of those records."
"Then why is he so skinny in person?"
"Photoshop. His whole life is fake."
Harry's head pounds as the cacophony surrounds him, an unrelenting barrage of noise assaulting his senses. He longs to cover his ears and block out the constant chatter, but no one cares that he can hear every word. With gritted teeth, he endures the overwhelming chaos, cursing himself forever thinking Forks would be different. But in the end, high schools are all the same - a never-ending storm of noise and drama.
Out of nowhere arms link through his arms on both sides.
"You must be Harry Swan." a low voice croons into his ear.
Harry turns his head side to side so hard that it cracks as he stares at mirror reflections of the same person in different clothes on either side of him.
"Hello…"
"I'm Fred Yorkie," says the redhead in the green shirt on his right.
"I'm George Yorkie," says the redhead in the same shirt but blue on his left.
"We are twins," they say at the same time, somewhat unnecessarily.
"Right," he says, still catching up.
"We heard you bat for the same team in more than just baseball," Fred says with a knowing smile.
"Let us know if you ever want to experiment with twins," George says wagging his eyebrows suggestively.
Harry flushes with anger and embarrassment, Malcolm's face flashing in his mind and trips over his feet almost faceplanting with the ground. The twins' arms stop him just in time.
"Fred! George! Leave the new kid alone." a confident voice yells as another redhead rounds the corner, this one covered in freckles.
"Oh Won Won, we were just introducing ourselves," Fred says in an innocent voice.
The tall newcomer towers over Harry and his face turns almost as red as his hair.
"Would you two let it go already? It's been a year since I dated Lavender."
"Why would we let such custom-made material go, Ronnikins?" George snorts, as both twins release Harry.
He stumbles at the loss of support but manages to stay on his feet.
"You're not very steady on your feet for an athlete and a ballerina." George jokes, slapping him on the back.
Harry winces thinking about his season on the Phoenix Werewolves with Remus and how every reporter claimed he only got on the team because Remus was his dad's childhood friend. No one bothered to report that Harry got signed on before Remus. His record-breaking hit in the first game at least quieted the rumors.
"Yeah, people are always telling me that. My godfather says I'm so absorbed in my own world that I forget where my feet are." Harry says with a sheepish look on his face.
He feels a pang in his chest at the mention of Sirius, but he shoves it down.
"You two better get going if you don't want detention, the bell is about to ring," Ron says looking at an expensive watch on his wrist.
"Yes, hall monitor," Fred says in a false complaint voice.
"He's getting as bad as Percy," George says under his breath as they saunter off down the hall.
"Hey I heard that!" the tall boy calls after them, to no effect.
The boy grumbles and turns back to Harry, sticking out his hand.
"I'm Ron Newton, I assume you just met my cousins. I apologize for anything they said and everything they will say," Ron says in a resigned voice.
Harry laughs at the look on his face feeling lighter already.
"Just be glad you didn't grow up here Harry, it's impossible to find a decent date. Everyone is either related to you or you've known them long enough to feel like they are related to you and no new one ever moves here."
"I don't plan on dating, I'd prefer some time off," he says and wishes it could be that simple.
"Well let me be the first to welcome you, then, to the dating desert in the middle of one of the rainiest places in the United States," Ron says with a chuckle.
"Glad to be here," Harry says, following Ron to his locker assignment.
The day flies by after that. Mrs. Vector who teaches Trigonometry is of course the only teacher who makes him introduce himself to the class and he hates her even more for that. He doesn't mind , his Ap French teacher, because he can have a conversation with her and the nice girl, Luna who sits next to him that the rest of the class doesn't understand. She is a bit odd, but Harry has a feeling she will grow on him. An intense girl named Hermione corners him after the class and demands that he study with her since he is already so far ahead. She invites him to lunch as well and he is happy to find that she is friends with Ron as well, because Ron invited him to his table as well and Harry hates to disappoint one of them. He then meets with Principal McGonagall to schedule a career discussion with her, a requirement for all seniors.
It is while sitting at a lunch table with Hermione, Ron, his cousins, a fierce-looking girl named Astoria and a quiet boy named Neville that Harry notices them.
The air around them buzzes with a magnetic pull as if a force is drawing them together. The four of them moved in sync, their steps perfectly aligned, and their bodies angled towards each other. It was an instinctual connection that Harry could sense like they were meant to be together. As they walk, their energy creates an orbit of its own, spinning around each other like two planets in the vast expanse of space. He finds it easy to pair them off the longer he watches them, their differences becoming clearer by the second, despite their disorienting similarities. The flawless white-skinned girl with a tumble of dark hair with the hulking umber-skinned boy. The pale skinned honey browned haired boy with the frost-colored girl with blonde hair. Luna, he realizes a second later, recognizing her as his table partner from Ap French. He sensed her otherness in class surrounded by people who put off an aura of belonging, that only a lifetime of living in the same place and experiencing the same things builds. Now circled on all sides by almost mythic creatures like her, he sees her separation from the others go deeper.
Sitting next to him, she radiated a sense of freedom and openness. But now, her face is blank and vacant as she pushes her food around on her plate, her gaze fixated on the honeyed brunette sitting next to her. Across from her sits the fierce-looking girl with jet-black hair, just as disinterested in her meal as Luna. It makes Harry wonder about the girl's alarmingly powerful-looking figure. What strikes him as even more surprising, though, is the three boys at the table's disinterest in food. They are all undeniably attractive, with perfect features and an air of effortless beauty. But there is something cold and distant beneath their flawless exteriors, a warning to keep a safe distance. Danger seems to emanate from their very pores.
But amidst these harmonious pairings, one stood out to Harry - the last boy trailing behind them like a break in a linked chain. Harry sees the weight of his loneliness on his shoulders, a heavy burden that he carries with him. And yet, Harry can't help but wonder how he senses all of this from just a simple glance at the young boy.
The boy wears a twisted determined grimace that further sets him apart from the others' blank faces. His eyes, a piercing black, hold a fierce independence that captures Harry's attention. He intended to pass this boy by like the rest until an urge seized him - to touch the icy white strands of hair and feel their softness against his fingertips. His face flushes with embarrassment at the thought.
The blonde boy locks eyes with Harry, his gaze calculating. He runs a hand through his tousled hair, a smirk playing on his lips as he sizes up Harry with a predatory look. The longer he stares, the more Harry feels a sense of unease wash over him as if the boy can see right through him. Irritation and hatred radiate from the boy's face, clearly finding Harry lacking in some way. With a scowl, the boy clenches his fists and for a moment, Harry is frozen in fear at the possessive animalistic glint in his eyes. When the boy releases him with a frustrated huff, Harry takes a gasping breath of air feeling like someone held him under water and tried to drown him. He slumps back in his chair, unaware of how tense he has been. The boy gets up and stalks out of the room, Harry's eyes following him the entire way. The other people at the table turn to him with amused expressions.
"Who are they?" Harry asks in a breathless voice.
He doesn't need to elaborate as everyone at the table exchanges knowing smirks.
"The Cullens" Ron finally replies in a mysterious voice.
"Pansy, Blaise, Luna, Theo and Draco." George says and Harry's eyes follow him as he goes around the table.
Fred snorts breaking some of the tense mood around the table.
"What was Draco wearing? Don't the Cullens usually wear bland clothes?"
Draco, he thinks. The boy wearing the silver phases of the moon belt. Unusual names he thinks. Old-fashioned and British.
"Maybe he finally acquired a personality?" Astoria says in a bitter voice.
"He has certainly acquired something, he's never shown as much interest in anyone as he has, Harry," George says with an amused smirk.
Harry fights against a blush and turns an appealing look at Hermione knowing she would be more than happy to give him the facts. As he guesses she is.
"They keep to themselves, they don't join clubs or sports, or attend games. It's no surprise that they are still outsiders despite living here for two years." Hermione says with a frown.
A surge of anger courses through Harry's veins, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. He feels like the Cullens might have a good reason not to join clubs or sports. Maybe with their popularity, they fear they will be given an unfair advantage. Harry can relate. Memories flood his mind of being the center of attention because of his own fame in school. His jaw muscles tighten as he forces down the urge to lash out in frustration.
"They have money and influence, but they don't seem to use it," Fred says in a bitter voice.
The fire in his chest ignites, searing through his veins as he recalls the countless accusations hurled at him and Sirius for their supposed selfishness. How many charities have they been scorned for not devoting everything to volunteering or donating money? The rage bubbles inside him, threatening to consume him whole.
"No one else knows where they live, but they are 'all together'." Astoria Mallory, a girl Harry hasn't had the opportunity to talk to much says in a dramatic whisper.
Harry looks at Astoria in confusion.
"You know, like incest-y. Except for Draco, Draco doesn't date. No one here is good enough for him apparently, so don't bother trying." she says in a flat tone, that makes him think that she asked him out and failed.
Harry raises his eyebrows and takes another look at the Cullens, his defense of them shrinking in his throat.
"But Pansy and Theo are Hales though so it isn't exactly incest," Hermione cuts in.
Harry feels his indignation return with a fire. It is very typical of people to misconstrue facts so that they seem more juicy and get a better reaction from their audience. Skeeters has done it more times than he can count to him.
"Yes, but they are the mother's sister's kids, she can't give birth." Astoria pipes in as if not being able to get pregnant is a deadly disease.
He grits his teeth thinking that just because his dad and father didn't give birth to him didn't make them any less parents in his eyes.
"There is just something about them that is just freaky," Ron says with a shudder.
Harry stiffens as the word plays over and over in his head sounding like a scratched record, his vision clouding over with red.
"Harry are you…?" Hermione begins to ask before trailing off as she sees Harry's sneer.
"I thought you guys were nice and accepting because you didn't say anything about my fame or…the bi thing, but I can see now why the Cullens want nothing to do with you. I'm only not included as one of the outsiders and freaks because of my last name, isn't that right?" Harry growls.
Everyone at the table wears matching expressions of shock and Ron looks drained of blood, his mouth hanging open.
"But you are nothing like them-" Ron says.
"They are no different than me other than they had the misfortune to be here longer than I."
Harry picks up his tray and throws it away, stalking out of the lunchroom and after Draco.
Draco hunches at his lab table in the front of Chemistry class, picking at his nails. It's driving him wild knowing that Potter's mind is closed to him. Without his glasses, Draco's view of his soul has technically never been clearer, but when has anything made sense where Potter was concerned? His one ticket to finishing the storyline quickly went just like that.
The guiding influence in the back of his head keeps prompting him to do things like look at Potter earlier in the lunchroom and it is becoming increasingly annoying. A dive into Potter's head would have provided the perfect distraction.
Draco is so engrossed in his thoughts he almost misses as Potter comes swaggering into the classroom with a purpose in his step. He watches with narrow eyes as Potter hands a slip to the teacher to sign. Then makes his way to Draco's desk. Draco gets a whiff of Potter's cheap strawberry shampoo before everything goes blurry. Potter slides into the stool next to him and thrusts out his hand.
"Hello. I'm Harry." Potter says, his expression so different from the one all those years ago.
Where were you when I was eleven, Draco wants to growl. Instead, he glares at his hand in distaste, feeling attacked by the scent that teases his nose. P-Mr. Slughorn gets up and turns on a cylindrical muggle device with paddles that create disturbances in the air. Then he leaves the classroom, closing the door behind him. He smells the triumphant burn of sunshine that suffuses his body after winning a Quidditch match, the fragrant scent of lilies in his mother's garden during the peak of spring, and a warm sweet scent that reminds him of home, memories, and warmth. He wants to drink it dry.
"Draco, are you alright? Your expression is a little scary…." His prey gasps, their expression is full of concern.
He grabs their hand in a death grip, preventing them from running away, as they notice the monster beside them. Their heartbeat is a hypnotic rhythm in his ears as its frantic pounding increases.
"Draco, that hurts. Let go," they say, pulling their hand back in a desperate attempt to disentangle their hand.
As hunger consumes him, he lunges forward, his movements swift and merciless. His hands grasp at their struggling form, pulling them back towards him with an ease that belies his strength. With each pitiful attempt to escape, Draco's grip only tightens, trapping his prey in his embrace. He presses his nose against the exposed crook of their neck and inhales deeply, intoxicated by the heady aroma that floods his senses. It's like a blazing Fiendfyre tearing through his sanity, leaving him high and delirious. His captive writhes and claws against his hold, but the friction only serves to excite him further.
"You smell incredible," Draco groans.
Their body stiffens against his chest, and their breathing turns erratic with fear. The presence screams at him in anger, somewhere in the back of his mind but he ignores it. His prey shoves at his chest and twists and he snarls warningly, daring them to try and break free. Eventually, the sweet-smelling thing falls limp in defeat, whimpering softly against his cold grip.
"What are you-" they start to say.
"Shhh," Draco murmurs hovering a millimetre over their lips and cutting them off.
Draco's long fingers glide through their soft, silky hair before his lips claim theirs with a fierceness that steals their breath. With his tongue, he worships their mouth, coaxing it open until they yield to him. His intoxicating venom-laced kiss caused them to relax against him in a haze of pleasure. As he pulls back, he gazes into their eyes now consumed by black. He briefly considers whispering words of false comfort, promising that this will not hurt at all, as the presence would want him to take them lovingly. But in a moment, that thought vanishes as he flips them around, their backs now pressed against his chest. His lips find the throbbing pulse on their neck, and with the tip of his tongue, he teases along the path of their vein.
He inhales deeply, savouring the metallic tang of blood rising hot against his prey's skin. They groan in response as Draco drags his teeth across the heat and then sinks them into their flesh, moaning as the warm liquid bursts in an intoxicating rush of sweetness against his tongue. They whimper in pain and he runs his fingers down their chest, feeling their muscles tense under his touch. He stops to rub and pinch their nipples through the thin fabric of their shirt, causing them to writhe and grind against him. Slowly, he lets his hand slide further down across their pelvic muscles and cups their erection, pawing at the growing bulge until it strains against the fabric. His prey gasps for air, their lungs struggling to get enough oxygen as they tremble under his touch. In response to their heightened state, Draco presses harder at the wound on their neck. With a confident smirk, he sets an aggressive rhythm in time with his sucking and a little later his prey cries out, soaking the fabric underneath his hand in satisfying wet heat. As they quiet down, Draco wraps his arms around them in a tender embrace and lets his eyes flutter shut in pure contentment.
In the background, students run out of the classroom screaming, rushing to escape from the beast. Someone, probably Weasel, throws a textbook at him. He flicks it out of the air effortlessly, without even opening his eyes. Zabini is wrong, humans were more fun to kill than mountain lions. The world fades as Draco leaches the last bit of warmth from Harry's body. Harry….
Draco gasps as if surfacing from underwater and shudders at the sagging weight against his chest. Potter rests like a statute, his body cold and unmoving in his arms and Draco knows at once that he is dead. That he killed him. His brain rebels in numb horror against the sentiment and what it means, the way it changes him. Ironically, he tried to steal Potter away to avoid murder only to meet the same fate, at the saviour's own hands. Loony's pale head bursts through the classroom door, her eyes wide with shock as the trembles take over Draco's body. Draco closes his eyes and lets the world blur and fade away, as it all disappears.
Harry walks into the Chemistry classroom, noticing with trepidation a free seat next to Draco. signs his slip and goes on for a little bit about how his father was his favorite student. He didn't mention his dad, but if the stories Sirius told him about the pranks they pulled off in high school are true then Harry can guess why. Mr Slughorn looks at his seating chart and points at the spot next to Draco. Harry feels his heart rate increase as he takes hesitant steps towards the seat, praying this isn't the moment his feet fail him. Draco spares a single glance at him before his face contorts in horror, his body stiffening as he curls in on himself. He glares at Harry with hostile eyes, as if Harry's existence offends him and dares him to come a step closer. Harry dares, he doesn't see much choice in the matter as he slides into his assigned seat next to him. Draco scoots his chair as far as the table will allow from Harry, clenching his hand into fists, as if to resist the urge to shove Harry away. In a panic, he wonders if he smells and takes a subtle sniff of his shirt. It smells like the lemon laundry detergent he uses and the faint traces of his strawberry shampoo. He notices several people looking over at them and whispering. It occurs to him that maybe Draco is intimidated by Harry's fame and worried that he will try to steal his popularity and the air of mystery surrounding him. Harry wants to tell him not to worry because he isn't interested in popularity but one look into those black eyes changes his mind.
The boy, if such a human term even applies to him, traps his gaze for several long drawn-out heartbeats, before Harry manages to look away. He still feels Draco's gaze boring into him, but he ignores the cold sparks of electricity it shoots through him. He lets out the stuttering breath he held and wishes he had grown his hair out long like Sirius suggested so he could use it as a curtain to hide his red face. He fumbles around pulls his notebook out of his bag and opens it to a clean page as stands up to start class. He scratches words on the pages as he attempts to follow along with the lecture, his handwriting messier than usual and his focus all over the place. As soon as the bell rings Draco is out of his seat and gone. Harry questions the legibility of his notes as he stands on shaky legs, he is so glad that is over. Ron comes up to him, looking apologetic.
"Look, I was out of line earlier. I shouldn't have said what I did."
"No you shouldn't have, but I forgive you as long as you remember to think before you judge next time," Harry says, feeling like maybe he judged Draco too soon if the way he acted around him is any indication of his behavior.
He doesn't want to admit it but maybe everyone had a point in keeping their distance from them.
"Thanks, man," Ron says in relief and slaps him on the back.
"That was a long class," Harry says in a shaky voice.
"What did you do to Draco anyway? I've never seen him that mad at anyone before. Did you ask his girlfriend out or something?" Ron says with a laugh.
"He has a girlfriend?" Harry asks in a distracted voice, still stuck on the way the muscles in Draco's back moved as he left the classroom and the hint of apple and mint he left in his wake.
"He must because he ignores all of the girls here as if they do not exist. He can't be gay either because Krum has never drawn his eyes either and you'd have to stick straight not to find him a little bit appealing. When he hits a homerun even I question my sexuality," Ron says with a fanatical look in his eyes.
Harry personally disagrees, he finds Cedric more appealing than Krum, but to each their own, he guesses.
"Too bad he's straight or I'd be your wingman and help you score him," Ron says with a disappointed sigh.
Harry flushes and asks, "Draco?"
Ron gives him an odd look, "No, Krum. Maybe it's for the best that Krum's straight I can see your mind has already caught on the unattainable."
"I told you I'm not dating this year," Harry says in a firm voice.
"If you say so, man," Ron says in a doubtful voice, "Ready to go to the gym?"
A smile stretches across his face.
"Yeah, let's go," he says, pushing Draco and his moodiness out of his mind.
Draco crouches in the snow staring at a text from Loony on his phone. He couldn't say with any real feeling that he liked Alaska, but it was far away from Potter which is where he wanted to be right now. He still reels from the taste of Potter's blood, the phantom memory haunting his tongue even now. He wants more, but he acknowledges it as useless to risk another taste. Potter hasn't fallen in love with him yet, so killing him will only make his guide scream in his ear again and move back to the plotline again. Or trap him in this story without even Potter to end it. A fate he doesn't want to contemplate.
Hence his stay in Alaska with the Denali, in the wild hope that distance helps his bloodlust, like Severus predicted. Sea lions were at least not any worse than deer, but they still felt less satisfying after his almost little slip as Blaise calls it. Not that they knew how big the slip-up was. He imagines that they would disown him if they realised that he killed one of their precious muggles. Another text from the mudblood lights up the tiny screen followed by one from Pansy. The one he sent to Severus still sits unread, the last text he sent stating Draco needed to reply to the ones the mudblood and Loony sent before he would respond. Draco tried to call, but the phone went straight to voicemail every time.
Harry slips into his seat next to Luna the next day, trying not to ask for the fifth day in a row where Draco is. He disappeared after that first day and never came back. It worries Harry because even though it is inconceivable he feels like he caused Draco to leave. Maybe he gave him some sort of disease or maybe he did smell bad. Harry glances at the clock in the front of the classroom and frowns. He has time to ask her if he is quick about it, he thinks. He braces himself for a quick dismissal and blows on.
"Hey, Luna?" Harry asks in a small voice.
Luna turns her vacant golden stare on him and away from her phone that she fiddles with her lap. He resists the urge to shiver a little. Ever since he saw her with the Cullens he sees her unnatural beauty and her distinct resemblance to Draco. However, it remains to be seen whether he feels drawn in by infatuation or fear.
"Yes, Harry?"
"I was just wondering…um where Draco is. We have Chemistry together with , and I sit next to him."
Luna gives him a thoughtful look, her thumbs flying across the keyboard of her phone.
"Draco's shy. He gets panic attacks when he feels cornered or if there are too many people around. He can come off as cold and hostile, but he just doesn't know how to communicate with people. The first day of school is always overwhelming for him and sometimes he needs to go stay with relatives until he has a chance to calm down."
A slight worrying expression crosses Luna's face as she thinks for a moment.
"Though this is the longest he has ever been away. It is a little concerning." She says, the skin around her eyes tightening with stress.
Harry feels his heart constrict with empathy as he remembers elementary and middle school where Dudley scared any kid who tried to be his friend away. Harry never felt more lonely than the years before Sirius won back most of his custody from the Dursleys. All but the summers.
"That must be hard on him and you guys," Harry says in a quiet voice.
He feels bad for thinking that Draco was rude to him now that he knows more information. He is no better than everyone else if he always jumps to conclusions before finding out why people act the way they do. Luna gives him a breathtaking smile, her white teeth glinting in the overhead light.
"It can be since Draco has pulled away even from us. He barely talks anymore and is always by himself." Luna says, her voice sad.
Before Harry can think to stop himself he opens his mouth and says, "I could try to talk to him, you know since we are partners in Chemistry."
Luna's face lights up even brighter and she leans forward a little as she dazzles him with another smile. He pictures Draco for a moment wearing that same smile and loses focus of his surroundings for a moment.
"That would be perfect Harry!" she whispers.
Harry abruptly realizes class has started as the teacher calls on Hermione, whose hand always shoots up first when she asks a question. Despite the lesson going on around him Harry feels adrift in a world of his own, trying to picture what it would be like to talk with the god-like individual. He feels tingly at the thought of Draco and him having a real conversation and maintaining friendly eye contact. Maybe even getting to see him laugh. He wonders what he will talk to him about and then stops that line of reasoning, shaking his head. He is getting carried away, they are just lab partners, not boyfriends. Not even friends. Anyway, he doesn't feel that way about Draco at all. Luna gives him a funny little smell as if she is somehow aware of his antics. Which is crazy of course. Harry forces himself to pay attention to the board, that's where his focus belongs.
"Are you sure this is smart? Pushing the lamb near the lion?" Theo asks in an arch voice.
Blaise chuckles, "More like pushing the lion cub near the snake if we are doing religious references. Draco is no brave lion, otherwise, he wouldn't be licking his paws in Alaska."
Theo lets out a harsh snort, "Agreed,"
"Draco's lonely, I think being friends with another outsider like Harry could be good for him. Maybe he will open up to him in ways he doesn't with us, now that he doesn't remember who we are." Luna says in a serious voice.
"Nothing good ever comes from getting close to your natural food source, especially if you are trying to avoid consuming it," Theo says with a grave shake of his head.
"But he has the best control out of all of us, barring father," Luna protests.
She hasn't had another vision of Draco attacking Harry after he left for Alaska. She has an inkling of a feeling that they belong together if she could just figure out how to get them together. These feelings are never wrong.
"He had the best control out of all of us. That human seems to undo all his control with just one whiff of his scent," Theo says with a self-satisfied expression.
"Maybe he will change," Luna insists, "Maybe he just hasn't met the right catalyst yet."
"Draco doing something without a clear gain, doubtful," Pansy says in a dismissive tone.
"Draco lost all of his memories, yet he is still the same stuck-up, prickly bastard as he was before. He can't change. He's forever locked in as an eighteen-year-old little boy." Theo says in a bitter voice.
"It's disappointing, but there is nothing we can do! Nothing he will let us do anyway." Pansy says.
"Which is such a shame because when Pansy and I went to Puerto Rico for Spring break last year we met the most gorgeous man that I would love to introduce him to," Blaise says with a saucy grin, "The positions we managed to get into."
"Ugh I don't want to hear about your sexual exploits," Theo says, covering his ears and glaring at Pansy, "How do you put up with him?"
Pansy smirks, "He has a big dick."
Draco drinks the last drops from his seal lion when he feels the shock of Millie's hand on him.
"Bloody fuck, Mil," he shouts as sparks fly off his skin.
He shakes the water from his hair and twists it into a braid, as she smiles at him looking unapologetic. He never knew vampires' hair grew, but in this world, everything he thought he knew about vampires was proven wrong.
"You are going to endanger the species if you're not careful," she says in a disinterested voice.
Draco admits he is hogging the animal due to its Gryffindor name and its relation to Potter. He hoped it might bear a hint of Potter's flavour in its blood and found himself disappointed. Only the mountain lion offered him a respite from his hunger and he isn't sure if that will even work anymore.
"They are not predators, it's better than me hunting the lynx into near extinction."
Severus explained the predator-prey hierarchy during his second time hunting, telling him they focus on prey animals because nature provides more of those. Mille raises a judgmental eyebrow at him.
"You shouldn't focus so hard on any particular animal, Draco. You should be more like Vince and Gregory."
Draco scowls, he hadn't particularly missed his minions, much to his surprise, and was taken aback when he met them up here. They didn't bow and scrape for his attention or seem content to do his bidding. They mostly ignored him, seeming too wrapped up in each other to notice him. They also smelled vaguely guilty, which Draco found discomforting.
"They have no taste, they would eat anything you put in front of them. I bet they would even eat mu-human food."
Mille snorts and nods in agreement with his assessment.
"Do you know when you're going back?" Mille asks.
Draco notices that she says when and not if. He doesn't answer her, because he isn't sure how.
"They miss you," Millie says in a small voice.
A voice designed to guilt him.
"You've been talking to them?" Draco growls annoyed by the effectiveness of her tactics.
"Hard not to when your mother calls every other hour. I don't know how she gets any work done with her clients."
"She's not my mother." Draco snaps.
Mille just raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him.
"Just because you lost the memory of her doesn't mean she ceases to fill the role."
"But I don't want her to, shouldn't that count for something?" Draco says feeling harassed.
"Not in Lily's book, she will fight to the end of the earth for someone. She certainly did that for Severus to open up to her."
A small part of him wants to hear the story about how Severus fell for the mudblood, but he bites down on his lip. Asking more questions will only encourage her. Mille smiles as if she can read his thoughts instead of the other way around.
"If she wants to waste her time, then fine."
"I never claimed to agree with her. I'd leave you to moulder if it were up to me."
Draco scowls as he kicks the sea lion's corpse into the ocean. Millie sighs as she sits down, as if settling in for a long talk. Draco starts to walk away not wanting to get trapped in some moral philosophy discussion that even the real Millie enjoys. Sometimes he thinks she is as bad as the Gryffidors's if it weren't for her politics.
"You don't get how lucky you are, do you? At first, I thought you were just being your bratty self, faking a little bit to get some attention, but not even you are this good of an actor." Millie says in a cynical voice.
"Why would I pretend to lose my memory?" Draco demands.
"You were pretty miserable and selfish. Only ever thought about yourself."
Draco frowns remembering Theo screaming those same words at him after he ruined Luna's garden. It would appear no one liked him here. It wasn't a surprise, but it didn't make him feel any better.
"Who else is there to think about? You only ever have yourself."
And your family, but he didn't have that here.
"I don't get paid enough to be your therapist," Millie mutters to herself.
"I don't pay you at all!"
"Precisely," Millie says, giving him an odious look.
Draco silently glares at her.
"Do you even know about my life before I became a vampire?"
Millie answers him before he can reply.
"Of course, you don't because you squandered all of your memories away. Well let me give you a chance to practice your empathizing skills," Millie says and Draco clenches his teeth in annoyance for all the times he's blamed for his vampire self's mistakes, "The year was 1830 and being a girl back then, well let's just say it was unpleasant. I was one of three girls from a well-off family. My mother never wanted children, but she had no choice but to have us. She saw us as little better than cows. "
Draco stifles a yawn, this sounds like every pureblooded tale of woe. Oh, I have to marry and my spouse doesn't love me and I have to have children. It didn't make them unique by any means, instead, it usually made them look at the risk of becoming a blood traitor. The continuation of the family line and the strengthening of magic in the blood was the purpose of marriage. It seems like these muggles had the right idea. Love was reserved for mistresses behind closed curtains.
"By the time I was thirteen both of my sisters had been sold off to marriage at the age of fourteen and fifteen. To powerful nobles no less with coffers full of gold."
Draco's eyes bugged at the age, but he figured Millie was old. A few generations back that was a normal age for Purebloods to get married. They were being taken care of. If Draco wasn't the sole heir, he would kill for a marriage where he got to lay around and eat bonbons while a rich husband paid for his lifestyle. In his situation, his husband's every whim would be coming from his vaults.
"My sister's marriages took them overseas and I never saw them again, as their husbands didn't permit them to visit or write."
Millie looks off into the distance, her face sad.
"What do you mean permitted?" Draco demands.
"The wife was the property of the husband. We possessed no rights of our own our husband didn't allow us."
"But that's…barbaric."
Typical bloody muggles. Pureblood spouses of the less affluent and powerful families were expected to be more reserved and bear the children, but never to be subservient in everything. To be a little better than a house elf. Even in ancient times.
"I agree. It was a barbaric time."
"Was a marriage between a man and man or a woman and a woman any different?" Draco asks.
Millie looks at Draco like he has lost his mind.
"That wasn't allowed back then. Though no marriage at all would have been my preference. You could be killed if anyone found out you were queer."
Draco stiffens.
"Killed?"
Millie gives him a grave nod.
"Or committed to an insane asylum or work camp, which at the time was one in the same."
Draco tries to imagine having sex with a woman and shudders. The muggle world treated this completely differently than the Wix world but maybe it was because there were no potions or magic to allow two men to bear children.
"What does queer even mean?"
"Its meaning has changed over the years. It used to be an insult to anyone who wanted to live a different lifestyle than what was considered the norm. These days it's an umbrella term for anyone in the LGBTQIA+ community."
"What is the point of the terms though? Why not just ask a person who they are attracted to or if they even are attracted to anyone?" Draco asks in disgust.
"Because without a name we don't exist. We disappear in a sea of straights."
Draco thinks about the divide between Purebloods, Halfbloods, and Mudbloods, how those names mean something and how belonging to one or the other determines so much about your beliefs and life path. He fails to see how something as simple as the level of attraction compares to blood status.
"Once you name something it becomes important, I simply don't think who you find attractive to be important, so I think a name is pointless," Draco says with a shrug.
Millie gives him a shrewd look, "That may be true in a perfect world, but I didn't have that luxury. I was married to a man who was four times my age when I was sixteen. He forced himself on me and beat me when I resisted. When he found out I was using a contraceptive to prevent children he started using a knife."
Draco looked at her with galleon-sized eyes. Purebloods both knew going into the marriage that children were expected. They simply gritted their teeth and bore it into the number of children specified in the contract. Then found a lover or didn't and never touched each other in that manner again. His parents were one of the rare cases, and Draco didn't hope to get that lucky. A small voice in his head said he heard rumours of such happenings before, but only in cases when the family's blood flowed with hidden muggle or creature blood, which caused them to act like beasts, which is further proved by Millie's story. Anyways his parents would never allow such a thing to befall him.
"He went too far one night after a long night of drinking and I felt like I was dying. I knew I wouldn't get very far, but the prospect of another night there felt worse than death. That's when I ran into Kingsley. He couldn't save me through conventional means but he managed to bite me without draining me. He saved my life and Crabbe and Goyal welcomed me with open arms."
"I am very sorry that happened to you Millie, but I fail to see how this has anything to do with me."
Millie looks at him with dour eyes.
"Because it's the same thing that happened to Pansy and though you never told anyone the tale, I imagine it is the same thing that happened to you."
Draco feels a red-hot wave of anger when he thinks of Pansy going through something so horrible. He wants to resurrect the dead muggle who did that to her and kill him all over again.
"I was dying from influenza in England just like my parents. That's hardly your level of trauma" Draco says in a careless voice, parroting what Severus told him.
"So he says, but no one looks the way you have always looked without carrying some serious baggage. Though I imagine you were English, your accent is back." Millie says.
"You think he lied to me."
"I think he was trying to spare you from the truth and honour your decision to lose your memories in the only way he knew how. Severus has always been soft when it comes to his children and his marriage to Lily has just made it worse."
Draco opens his mouth to agree when his phone buzzes with Luna's face. Millie gives him a judgmental look and he groans hitting the 'answer' button, his thumb rubbing over the eagle owl sticker on the back of the case in annoyance.
"Draco!" Loony's sweet voice chirps from the speakers.
"Lo-Luna," Draco says in a dull voice that makes Millie glare harder at him and raise her lightning hand in threat.
"You won't believe who I spoke to today."
Draco sighs in a put-upon way, he hates guessing games.
"Who?"
"Harry!"
Draco choked, or would if he needed to breathe to stay alive. Millie gives him an odd look.
"Isn't that the boy you ran away from like a blushing virgin on their wedding night?"
"No,"
"Yes," Loony says in a dreamy voice.
Draco mouths I hate you at Millie, she gives him the wand or the 'finger' as Zabini calls it.
"Why?" Draco growls.
"He was asking about you and looking worried. It would have been rude to ignore him." Loony says in her innocent voice, that Draco is learning is far from it.
"And what did you tell him?" Draco asks, already dreading the answer.
"I said you were shy and prone to getting overwhelmed and having panic attacks. And that's why you went to stay with our relatives up north to help relieve it."
Draco's mouth drops open in shock. Millie falls over cackling, the sound of her voice so loud she disturbs the rest of the sea lions further down the beach, causing them to rush for the water.
"Tell him you made a mistake yesterday and that I am not shy."
"But it's perfect Draco, it will give you an excuse to talk to him and show him we are perfectly safe to be around. He stood up for us, you know, to his friends."
Millie raises her eyebrows at Loony's use of the word safe.
"What?" Draco asks, still lost in a haze of irritation from what Potter must think of him.
"His friends were calling us strange and insulting moms. Harry told them off and stormed out. It was very considerate of him so we owe him in return."
Draco clenches his fists in anger at the Weasel who no doubt brought up the less-than-flattering opinions about him. He wonders if Loony heard right, he doubts that Potter would ever defend a Slytherin even if his life depended on it. Though this Potter wasn't the one he knew, maybe he would be easier to seduce than Draco thought. He could play on Potter's massive hero complex to convince him that Draco was a pathetic little thing in need of help. Maybe Loony wasn't a total waste of space for giving him this opportunity either.
"I agree, Luna, I think talking to P-Harry will greatly benefit us both, it sounds like he needs some real friends to watch his back."
Millie gives him an odd look.
"Oh, that's lovely to hear Draco! Harry will be thrilled! He looked so lonely."
Loony hangs up and Draco smirks to himself, picturing Harry's grateful face as Draco rescues him from his lonely existence.
Harry tries to smile as twenty pairs of eyes stare at him in awe, but he knows it comes off looking stiff and uncomfortable. Madame Maxime stands beaming next to him, radiating pride.
"Anyone who has danced with the Paris Opera Ballet troupe needs no introduction, but for those poor ignorant fools, this is Harry Swan. I want you all to make him feel welcome as he has graciously volunteered his free time to be my assistant director for Swan Lake and to dance as the black swan. Give him your best listening ears as we all have much to learn from him."
"Happy to be here," Harry says in a faint voice, red creeping up in his cheeks.
"Everyone start warming up now, we have much to get through tonight! Harry and I will come around and correct your posture and positions." Madame Maxime says with a snap of her fingers.
The crowd breaks off along the mirrored walls, doing rises at the barre, butterfly and bridge stretches and prancing.
"Regulus would be so proud," Madame Maxime says in a low voice as she gives his arm a soft squeeze.
Harry gives her a sad smile. He would like to believe that of course, but his parents died when he was five so he struggles at the best of times to remember what they were like. Sirius tries to tell him stories about them, but Harry knows he hates talking about them after his stay in prison for supposedly killing them. Even though he was proven innocent ten years later, he never quite recovered from his stay there.
"Cedric, who is playing Prince Odette needs some help with his Fouetté turns, Harry and you know my feet aren't what they once were." Madame Maxime says puttering over to him and giving him a gentle shove to get him going.
Harry grimaces but gets moving figuring he didn't volunteer to just stand and stare at everyone. He stands back and watches as the boy comes into the turn, paying attention as his toned muscles stretch and pull with the movements.
Cedric is striking.
His facial features reveal his Korean roots - high cheekbones, enviable bone structure and his grey eyes which are framed by gently upswept lashes.
"Hey, Harry," Cedric, says as he stops spinning, a polite smile playing on his lips, his double-lidded eyes crinkling into crescents.
Cedric runs a casual hand through his thick black brown locks, which tumble forward in an artful style Harry wishes his Harry could pull off. His face shows none of the frantic excitement or embarrassment the others displayed and for that, Harry feels relief. It makes what he needs to do next easier.
"Do you mind if I reposition you?" he asks, having made the mistake in the past of phrasing it as 'touch you', and seen people turn to a useless pile of mush at his feet.
"Of course," Cedric says, relaxing his graceful body, so Harry can nudge it into place with light movements.
"There's no substitution for practice of course, but I would add more strength exercises to your routine," Harry says, trying not to let his eyes linger on Cedric's toned quads.
"Thanks, Harry, I appreciate it," Cedric says, giving him a wink as if noticing Harry's gaze.
Harry feels the heat rise to his cheeks as he recalls Draco's intense, disapproving gaze when he caught Harry staring at him. He can't help but admire him. Cedric's bright gray eyes and dark hair were the complete opposite of Draco's piercing midnight black eyes and pale blonde locks. Their personalities also seemed worlds apart, Harry muses as he spends the rest of practice correcting everyone's positions. Despite his best efforts, his eyes still stray back to Cedric multiple times throughout, unable to resist the magnetism between them.