Title: Veni, Vidi, Vici

Author: AznEyes (co-written with Jackal)

Rating: M

Genre:Romance Suspense

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling

Summary: What if you ever fell in love with someone you're supposed to hate? Is it worth risking everything for, even if that "everything" involves your very life! Harry, Draco slash.

Author's Note: I'm not too sure what the rating is supposed to be. I put "M", just in case, for language and . . . other things. Just as a side note, the title is Latin for "I came, I saw, I conquered". The story begins during the summer before Harry's seventh year at Hogwarts.

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( Chapter I )

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Draco hadn't listened.

Despite his father's countless warnings that venturing forth into Knockturn Alley alone was folly, the teen hadn't believed him, convincing himself that he would be able to take care of himself no matter what happened. After all, he wasn't about to go into his seventh (and final) year at the renowned Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for nothing.

No. With the knowledge he had learned, he planned on making something of himself. Maybe he'd be able to become the next Head of the Department of Mysteries, or maybe even the Minister of Magic! Whatever happened, though, Draco knew that—as a Slytherin—he had the determination to do anything. Surely he'd be able to defend himself against petty alley fights.

He had been wrong.

Knockturn Alley wasn't christened so for no reason. It was a dangerous place to enter, even if one was to be accompanied by such an authoritative figure like Lucius Malfoy. No. The half-crazed, mutant beings of Knockturn Alley took kindly to no one and looked out for nobody but themselves. They had no reason to, and there were certainly enough of them to hold their own against a "former" servant of Lord Voldemort, given the right opportunity.

Thus, seeing the only son and heir of Lucius Malfoy (though in their deranged minds, his identity didn't process entirely) had been nothing short of a dream; a well-dressed young man walking alone down their alleyway. That was nothing if not their perfect opportunity . . .

For ransom? For pleasure? To this day, nobody really knows.

Not that it really mattered, of course. Just that it happened.

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Draco Malfoy had been carelessly making his way down Knockturn Alley, intent on finding some unicorn blood for a new potion that he was creating. He may have been a cold-hearted fiend, but he hadn't had the heart to slay one on his own, although—truthfully—this method was little better. While he had been preoccupied with the various items situated outside the store windows, he hadn't noticed that a small cluster of deformed figures had been drawing steadily nearer. It was not until they were practically on top of him that he turned around.

'Excuse me,' he said smoothly, not really caring. He was a Malfoy, after all. Why should he bother himself with worry for these lowlifes?

The witch in front of him grinned, her rather slimy teeth causing him to wrinkle his nose in disgust.

'I don't believe you heard me. I said, "Excuse me",' Draco repeated. 'As in the nice way of saying, "Leave me the bloody hell alone!"'

'Oh, I heard you the first time,' she replied in a hoarse voice.

Not quite understanding her intent, the youth tried to sidestep the woman in front of him, immediately finding himself nose to nose with one of her companions.

'Get out of my way!' he ordered.

'We don't take orders from no one,' the man said. The dullness in his voice strongly reminded Draco of Crabbe, or maybe Goyle.

Ah, Crabbe and Goyle. He wished that they were there with him now. They would show these little freaks what the meaning of pain was.

'Well, you'll take orders from me!' Draco snapped. 'Do you not know who I am? I'm Draco Malfoy!'

'We know who you are.'

'Oh, good, then you also know that you have no right to treat me like this!'

'We'll treat you however we want to,' another man responded.

'Though not too harshly, of course,' said the witch.

'Of course not,' replied the former. 'He's too pretty for that.' He reached out to stroke Draco's cheek. The latter instantly recoiled, backing away from them . . . right into a wall!

"Bloody hell!"

'Don't touch me!' he screamed in panic, whipping out his wand. He pointed the tip at them threateningly, mentally going through a list of curses in his head. None of them, however, seemed bad enough for this lot.

'Now, now, there will be none of that,' said another one of their companions, gracefully extracting her own wand. 'Just because we live here doesn't mean we don't know nothing about magic.'

Draco groaned, realizing that he was trapped. Even if he did manage to perform a spell or two, none of the ones in his mind seemed powerful enough to get rid of them all. It was just his rotten luck that's he'd blank out now of all times. The best that he could do was blind them with a flash of light and run away, hoping he'd be able to make it back to Diagon Alley before they caught him. It wasn't too far; he wouldn't have to outrun them for long.

'Lumos maximus!' he exclaimed.

A flash of white light erupted from his wand, immediately drawing from them the desired effect. Crying out in surprise, the group clapped their hands over their eyes to shield them from the sudden glare.

Realizing that he had but seconds to escape, Draco shoved his way past them and started sprinting down the alley.

Not a few moments later, he heard the witches and wizards shooting spells at him with their wands; he had even felt a few grazing past him. Knowing that he only had seconds to spare, Draco randomly shot spells over his shoulder, hoping that they would find their targets.

Too late, he noticed a stray garbage can impeding his path. He attempted to leap over it at the last moment, but his shoelaces got caught on its ragged edge and he immediately fell to the ground, his wand slipping from his hand. Tears welled up in his eyes when he felt the sharp pain in his knees; it didn't take him long to realize that they were practically gushing blood.

"DAMN!" he cursed inwardly. He desperately tried to get back on his feet, but the pain in his legs was too unbearable.

The horrid beings soon caught up to him and looked down upon him with gleeful eyes.

'That wasn't very nice, darling,' one of the witches scolded, pointing at him with a gnarled finger.

Draco glared at her defiantly, but said nothing. There was nothing left to do; he was trapped. He thought he'd be able to handle a situation like this by himself, but he couldn't. His father was right! Why hadn't he listened? Why did he never listen!

And all of this was just for a vial of unicorn blood . . .

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'Ron! Hurry up!' Harry called, pounding on the door to the bathroom.

He and Ron had decided to stay at the Leaky Cauldron for the week. Though Harry had been welcomed to the Burrow for the entire summer (as always), he couldn't help but feel that he was intruding somehow and had decided to leave early and go to the Leaky Cauldron for the last week. It was only a short time, but if it would help to ease his conscience, then he would do it. Ron had decided to go along with him, saying something about visiting Fred and George and seeing how their business was coming along lately.

'Come on, Ron!' Harry said. 'I promised the twins that we would meet them for lunch at 12!'

It was already a quarter past twelve, but that hardly mattered. Harry had a feeling that Fred and George were going to be "fashionably late" anyway.

'Ron!'

'I'm coming!' Ron exclaimed. 'Just give me a few more minutes.'

Well, needless to say, a "few" minutes turned into thirty. Harry had been sitting on the bed with his arms crossed irritably over his chest, impatiently waiting for his friend to emerge from the bathroom. Ron was taking an awfully long time to get ready. It wasn't like he was going to see anyone special today, just Fred and George! So why—

'Harry?' came his best friend's tentative call from behind the closed door. 'I have a problem.'

'And it took you thirty minutes to admit it!' Harry rolled his eyes.

'Well . . . uh . . . it's kind of embarrassing.'

'Why? Is your fly stuck or something?'

'Not exactly.'

'Fine. Then whatever it is, I'm sure that you can use magic to fix it.'

'Well, that's kind of ironic,' Ron said miserably. 'Because . . . um . . . it was magic—' he finally opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom, '—that did this to me in the first place.'

Harry literally felt his jaw drop open.

Ron's hair, instead of being its usual red (the trademark sign of a Weasley) was now blond! Platinum blond, to be exact.

'What did you do!' Harry exclaimed, desperately trying to restrain his laughter . . . and cracking no less than two ribs as a result of that.

'I'm sure it's pretty obvious,' Ron said sarcastically. 'Harry! Look at me! I'm a freak!'

'What? I wouldn't say that. You kind of look like Malfoy, and he isn't all that bad looking.'

Ron's facial expression was between a mixture of pure revulsion and shock.

"Damn," Harry cursed himself. "Why did I have to say that?"

In a poor attempt to ease the sudden tension, Harry suddenly burst out laughing.

'Come on, Harry, it's not funny!' Ron said indignantly.

But now that he had started, Harry couldn't stop laughing! It wasn't that Ron looked bad or anything. Actually, the colour seemed to suit him quite well. It was just . . . different—really different—to see him that way.

'Stop laughing!' Ron said indignantly.

'I'm . . . sorry!' Harry replied, gasping for breath and clutching his now-pained stomach. 'But you look so . . . so . . .'

'You can say it—queer!'

'No, you look pretty good, actually.'

'You mean it?'

'Yeah,' Harry responded. 'I really am sorry about laughing. It's just different from what you usually look like, you know.'

'You really think it looks okay?' Ron asked, glancing at himself in the bathroom mirror.

'Definitely.'

'Oh, that's good. When I made the potion, it wasn't until afterwards that I realized I had goofed and put in more newt tails than crocodile tongues, when the instructions clearly said not to.'

Harry wrinkled his nose in revulsion. Newt tails? Crocodile tongues? So . . . what? Did Ron actually drink that stuff, or was the potion only to be used externally as a shampoo or something? Neither way seemed appealing.

'I was trying to make my hair light brown or something,' Ron continued, thankfully oblivious to Harry's thoughts, 'but as you can see, I made it a little too light; almost silvery. I've always been hopeless with potions.'

'Aren't we all? Can I just ask you something, though?'

'Obviously, you just did, but go ahead.'

'Why did you want to dye your hair?'

'Oh . . . I . . . er . . . I wanted to impress Hermione.' Having said this, Ron's face flushed crimson with embarrassment.

'Hermione? Well, good. It's about time that you realized how much you like her.'

'Erm . . . Yeah . . .' his friend replied shyly, blushing even darker (if possible). 'Do you think she'll like it?'

'Well . . . I'm not saying that she won't, but I think that she already liked you just the way you were,' Harry said. 'I don't see why you felt that you had to change for her.'

'It's our last year at Hogwarts, Harry. I'm the oldest Weasley in the school now, have been since Fred and George left.'

'So?'

'So maybe I don't want to be known as just that anymore.'

'I don't get it. You're not ashamed of your family, are you? Because that sounds more like something out of Malfoy's mouth, not yours.'

'I know! Ugh! Don't remind me. Why do you keep mentioning him, anyhow?'

Honestly, Harry didn't know. The blond had been on his mind all day, and he had no idea why. Was this, perhaps, a foreshadowing of something that involved him?

"Eurgh, now I'm sounding like Trelawny," Harry thought.

In reply to Ron's question, he merely shrugged.

The former looked at him strangely before continuing.

'It's not that I'm ashamed or anything, it's just that I've always wondered what it would be like not to be a Weasley, you know. Just to be Ron—not Charlie's brother, or Bill's brother. I just want people to realize that I'm my own person, too. I love my family and all, but what would my life be like if I wasn't always . . . overshadowed.'

Though he hadn't really experienced it, Harry understood completely; had he not been overshadowed by his piggish cousin, Dudley, for over half his life? After learning of what Ron saw in the Mirror of Erised and listening to Dumbledore's say in it, it wasn't surprising to hear Ron mention his feelings aloud. Ronald Weasley—the youngest Weasley brother. It was only natural for him to feel this way.

Not really knowing what to say to this confession, Harry remained silent and the two stood in a rather uncomfortable silence for a few moments. Then Harry finally spoke up.

'Is the hair thing permanent?'

'Yeah,' Ron replied sheepishly. 'Well, at least until it grows out, anyway.'

'It's not that bad. You just have to fix it up a little.' Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at Ron.

'What are you going to do?' Ron asked, nervously staring at the wand.

'You'll see.' After a few waves of his wand and some choice mutterings escaping from Harry's lips, the teen withdrew and surveyed his friend's new look. 'Nice . . .'

'Wha-?' Ron returned his gaze to the mirror, shocked upon what he saw.

His blond hair had been attractively tousled in that "just rolled out of bed" type of appeal. His eyebrows, he was rather pleased to notice, were now dyed a shade darker than his hair, rather than the light reddish hue they had been moments before. That was the extent of change, but he thought it was marvelous.

'It isn't much,' Harry said, noticing the look on Ron's face, 'but it'll have to do until we can find someone who can do a better job of it. This isn't exactly my field of expertise.'

'No, yours lies with fighting off evil forces,' his friend teased.

Harry smiled, but it quickly vanished.

'Oh no! We still have to meet Fred and George!'

The two hastily grabbed their jackets and sprinted down the corridor.

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When they arrived at the twins' shop, it was to find themselves in an environment more akin to that of a zoo than a store. True to their style, Fred and George had "enhanced" the atmosphere with sparkling fireworks and coloured smoke soaring overhead. The creaky shelves were loaded with various objects as well, everything from Nosebleed Nougats to Canary Creams. Youths (mainly students from Hogwarts, Harry noted) slowly made their way from one end of the shop to the other, intently inspecting the items on sale.

Having realized that the twins had more or less forgotten about their lunch date, Harry felt considerably less guilty. He and Ron leisurely made their way to the counter, where the elder Weasleys were gleefully exchanging coins with their rowdy customers.

'Ron! Harry!' George cried out when he saw them, alerting his twin to their presence as well.

'Get over here!' Fred called. 'No! Not there! Here—behind the counter! We need your help!'

'What's up?' Ron asked.

'Whoa, what did you do to your hair?'

'Never you mind,' Ron snapped, the blood rushing to his face.

'Whatever. I'll bug you later. For now, I want you, little brother, to give these away,' Fred said, thrusting a tray full of coloured snacks into Ron's chest. 'They're free samples of a new product we created.'

'Wicked,' the latter said, picking up one of the wafer-like pieces. 'What are they?'

'We call them "Fluff Bluffs",' George said proudly.

'Why?' Ron asked, popping one into his mouth. Not a moment later, his blond hair turned a lurid shade of blue. 'Wicked,' he said again in amazement. Grinning, he carefully balanced the tray on his arm and he made his way around the store.

'He wanted to impress Hermione,' Harry murmured to Fred.

'Ah. About time!'

'Yeah. My thoughts exactly.'

'Our ickle Ronniekins is growing up!' George said, wiping away a fake tear.

'Yeah,' Fred agreed wistfully. 'It was only yesterday that we were slipping porcupine quills into his diapers and itching powder into his bedsheets.'

Harry rolled his eyes.

'So . . . what did you want me to help you out with?'

'Oh yeah, that,' George said. 'Can you just go into the back and bring out more sales items? They're wiping us out.'

'Unless of course you'd like to take care of the cash counter,' Fred said slyly.

One look around at the clamorous throng and Harry announced, 'I'll go to the back!'

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A few hours later, the rush finally died down and the four wizards were able to talk to each other without constant interruptions.

'So, Ron, when did you decide to make yourself the next Paris Hilton?' Fred joked.

'Very funny,' Ron said sarcastically. 'I don't know when I "decided" to dye my hair, but I drank the potion this morning, if that's what you meant.'

'And why, may I ask, did you want to differentiate yourselves from the rest of us Weasleys?' George asked seriously.

'I'm not ashamed of our family, if that's what you're thinking,' Ron said with a quick glance at Harry. 'I'm not Percy, George. I'm not going to turn my back on our family like he did.' He shrugged. 'It's just a different hair colour. That doesn't change who I am. I just wanted to see what it would be like, you know.' He glanced up at his hair, which was still the same blue shade that it was when he ate the "Fluff Bluff". 'When is this colour going to fade, anyhow? It's been hours!'

'Doesn't fade for a couple of hours,' Fred replied. 'Sorry, mate.'

'They were a big hit, though,' Harry said. 'Did you see those crowds? I swear, it was like there was a circus in here, what with all the clown-like people wandering around.'

The others laughed.

Just then, a timid-looking young girl stepped up to the counter and placed a box of Canary Creams on the counter.

'What a lovely choice! That'll be three Galleons,' George said, happily typing the sale into his cash register.

'You don't plan on eating those all by yourself, do you?' Fred teased as he slipped the box into a paper bag.

'No, these are for my family's Sunday dinner,' she replied with a mischievous smile, before heading off with her new purchase swinging in her hand.

'For someone so sweet-looking . . .' Ron trailed off, though the others understood what he was trying to say.

'Yeah, we get a lot of those,' George said with a shrug. 'The innocent ones are more difficult to catch, mate. No one would ever suspect them.'

'Yeah.'

There was suddenly a small rumbling noise, and everyone stared at Ron's stomach.

'So, will you guys be wanting to go for a late lunch anytime soon?' he asked. 'Or should we just call it supper?'

'You guys can go on ahead,' Fred said. 'I'll stay here and mind the store.'

'Okay,' George responded. 'We'll bring something back for you.'

'That'll be great! But I will know if you slip anything into it, George!'

'What?' George inquired, feigning disbelief. 'I would never do that to you!'

'Yeah, yeah, sure, sure. Have fun, kids. And behave!'

'Yes, mother!'

'Shut up!

'You started it.'

'Nuh-uh!'

Harry found it odd that even after a few years away from Hogwarts, these two still acted like they were first years.

When the twins were finally through arguing, Harry, George, and Ron were off. They were just outside the door when a small firework danced past their heads and burst into flame; its remains fell to the ground in cluttered heaps.

'What the bloody hell!' Ron exclaimed, grasping at his chest.

Harry was in an equal state of shock and had instinctively backed into the wall upon the firework's sudden detonation, away from the ball of smoke.

Grinning, George whirled around at his twin, who had an identical grin on his face. Not a moment later, Harry noticed their grins widen when the pieces of the seemingly finished firework suddenly took off again, creating the same effect.

'Er . . . How many times is this going to happen?' Harry asked George, rolling his eyes when he saw the pieces take off for the third time, their explosions getting smaller and smaller.

George shrugged.

'Two, maybe three.'

'Oh. But won't this be described as a "public disturbance" or something?'

The redhead shrugged again.

'Maybe, but people in this neighbourhood are getting so used to things like this happening that they stopped reporting them months ago . . . er, or they move away.'

'I see . . . And the people who don't live in this area?'

'Oops, our bad,' George said, though he didn't really seem to bothered.

'Relax, Harry,' Ron said. 'I'm sure that they're harmless.'

'Most definitely,' George agreed. 'We would never sell anything that wasn't already tested by us first. You can run your hand through the "flames" and not feel a thing. They're just quite a sight to see. Especially when—'

'What the—? NO! Fluffy! Come back!' someone screamed from nearby, interrupting George.

His gaze following the sound of the voice, Harry saw what looked like a large lizard jump out of a witch's arms and take off into the distance in fright.

'Fluffy! Come back!' the woman screamed again.

Feeling guilty on the twins' behalf (since it was their fireworks that had frightened the poor creature), Harry ran after the reptile, closely followed by George and Ron.

'She seemed a mite upset, I'd say,' George said.

Harry didn't reply, keeping his attention focused on the lizard. It turned suddenly into one of the side alleyways, and Harry sprinted in after it. He was almost there . . .

If he had turned around, he would have noticed that the Weasley twins had hesitated for a moment before following him.

Above them, the creaky wooden sign of Knockturn Alley swayed in the breeze . . .