Title: Of Flesh and Blood
Author: Patris Vox and Nicole7137
Rating: PG (for this chapter)
Pairings: Draco/Harry (later on)
Disclaimer: We are not JK Rowling, therefore, we do not own any of the characters…Though we wouldn't mind owning Draco ;D
Warning: Harry is stupid…Draco is haat…therefore! This is a Draco/Harry slash! If you don't like the idea of two guys going at each other, then why the hell did you click on this story anyway?
*~*~*
Prologue
This body holding me. Be my reminder here
That I am not alone in
This body, this body hold me, feeling eternal
All this pain is an illusion
Tool
"Parabola"
"Wands out, d'you reckon?"
A familiar voice from the past jolted through Harry.
"Oh God, not again! Please not again…""Yeah."
Another voice, he soon recognized as his own, followed.
The two boys pulled out their wands.
Harry watched himself looking around the graveyard cautiously. After all the practice he had reliving this event in his mind, Harry knew what to do, knew he must succeed in what he failed to do before.
He ran over to himself and screamed, "GET CEDRIC AND RUN OUTTA HERE! LISTEN TO ME! RUN, JUST RUN!!!" but the words quickly dissolved into the night air before they reached the seemingly deaf boy's ears.
"Someone's coming," the double said suddenly.
Squinting, the boys peered through the darkness, and watched a small hooded figure stride towards them between the graves, holding out its arms. From a distance it appeared to be carrying something.
Harry turned to Cedric, "This is not going to happen. I won't let you die again. I promise."
He reached out quickly to pull Cedric back to the Portkey, but his hand fell straight through the boy's chest.
"No…NO! Not again," he pleaded, desperately trying to grasp the apparition.
Harry's own specter lowered his wand slightly and glanced sideways at Cedric. Cedric shot him a quizzical look. They both turned back to watch the approaching figure.
It stopped beside a towering marble headstone, only six feet from them.
For a second, Harry and Cedric and the short figure simply looked at one another.
"YOU BASTARD!!!" Harry screamed at the cloaked figure, knowing the hood masked the man who caused his parents death; the reason he always felt truly alone.
Without a second thought, Harry raced at the traitorous Wormtail unarmed; his hands out, prepared to strangle his enemy to death. Rage surged through him, and he hurled himself at the tiny man. He coasted through Wormtail.
A few feet away, the other Harry fell to his knees, his hands clutching his forehead, his scar.
From a distance, a high, cold voice ordered, "Kill the spare."
Harry knew there was only one more thing he could do. He stood fearlessly in between Cedric and Wormtail.
A swishing noise erupted and the servant's voice, which screeched the words to the night: "Avada Kedavra!" A blast of green light blazed across the graveyard, and a sickening thud resounded beside him.
Without looking, he knew the spell spared him and hit its chosen target.
Cedric lay spread-eagled on the ground beside him. He was dead.
Moments seemed to drag on forever, as Harry stared into Cedric's face, at his empty, gray eyes and half-open mouth. He knelt next to the body and pulled Cedric's hand to his own chest. A tear drifted slowly down his cheek and fell onto the dead boy's lips. Harry wiped away the drop with his thumb.
"I'm sorry. I'm never going to be able to save you."
He kissed Cedric's hand, laid it back down, and closed Cedric's eyelids, forever.
*~*~*
Harry opened his eyes; there was no graveyard, no Wormtail, and no Cedric, only the tears remained, a sick reminder of the dream. Harry reached over to his stand and fumbled for his glasses. Securing them over his ears, he peered through the curtains, greeted with the sun's rays as they filtered into the dormitory. His bloodshot, sore eyes squinted before adjusting to the light. Harry slipped back under the covers and curled up his legs, wrapping his arms around them. He rocked back and forth unconsciously, his head resting on his knees.
There was nothing you could do… nothing you could do…The wizard clock silver hands pointed towards nightmare.
*~*~*
Chapter One: SuffocationI'm full of regret
For all things that I've done and said
And I don't know if it'll ever be ok to show
My face 'round here
Sometimes I wonder if I disappear
Maroon 5
"Tangled"
A smile swept across Harry's face as the wind whipped around him on the pitch. He stretched and slowly let out a yawn. Harry loved flying in the morning; he tried to wake before anyone else to claim the field for his own. Alone, he did not have to worry about the snitch or pleasing others. Just simply fly for himself. After so many years of being everyone's Golden-Boy, Harry forgot what it was to live his own life. Perfection was not a reasonable goal for anyone. Neither was being a 'super hero'. Kicking off from the ground, Harry attempted to push away all thoughts as he closed his eyes. Wind rushed all around him, tousling his forever-disheveled hair. Harry dove down and around, eyes still closed, wondering how long he could fly in his self-imposed darkness.
One hippopotamus, two hippopotamus, three hippo…
"Brushing up on your ballet skills, eh Potter?"
Harry's eyes snapped open. He jerked his hand up, forcing the broom to slow down, to sway in the sky, and focused on a pale figure about forty or so feet down. Immediately, he furrowed his brow as he realized who was below.
Malfoy.
Harry tried to think of a witty retort, but only managed to open his mouth a little and stare. The Slytherin's entrance had caught him a little off guard.
"Well? Don't stare, Potter. It's extremely rude."
"Wh…what do you want?"
Draco arched his eyebrow, looked down to his broom, and up to Harry again, wordlessly explaining his presence. He noticed Harry had not picked up on this rather obvious hint.
"Hmm… I don't know. I thought I'd wake up early and have an exciting one-sided conversation with The Harry Potter."
"…Shut up!"
Shaking his head, Draco's hair cracked; a few strands fell perfectly around his sharp features.
He sneered and raised his eyebrows; "You make it so easy for me."
With that, Draco promptly mounted his broom and rose elegantly above the field.
Harry would never admit it to anyone, but he always held a deep admiration for the way the blond flew. Harry credited himself on being a naturally skilled flyer, but knew he did not have near the amount of practice or refined grace as Draco. When Draco effortlessly shot through the sky, there was no doubt that he owned it.
Malfoy swooped past him, snapping Harry out of his trance. Instantly, he gripped his Firebolt firmly and took off after Draco. Whenever the broom in front of him moved the slightest up, down, or side-to-side, Harry mimicked the maneuver. Draco stole a glance back at Harry as he felt a rising suspicion of being followed.
"Not bad Potter! All you need now are your own moves," he scoffed.
"And maybe with a faster broom you could almost beat me!"
Draco eyed Harry spitefully before he departed, plummeting towards the ground. Running his fingers through his slick hair, Malfoy gave one last fleeting look towards the heavens where Harry hovered on his broom. The Slytherin stood motionless; his cold gaze penetrated Harry. He hesitated before his body, in one fluid motion, head towards the castle for breakfast. Harry spiraled down until his feet touched the ground.
He regarded Draco's retreating steps, taking a few forward himself, but then held his ground. The Gryffindor paused, unsure of what to do.
What is he playing at?
Harry shook his head, attempting to rid his mind of Malfoy. Feeling a faint rumble in his stomach, he realized breakfast drew near. He trudged up the turf towards The Great Hall.
*~*~*
Breakfast that morning came and went like every other. Ron somehow managed to come in late with Seamus and Dean, while Hermione held a huge book in one hand and food in her other. In between bites, she spurted out some random factoid she read and looked up at the two boys for acknowledgement.
"Honestly, do you two ever read?" she muttered, rolling her eyes when she received only blank expressions.
Harry chewed his food methodically while intently looking down at the table. He noticed that it had been rubbed raw from the countless times the plates jostled all over it; he rubbed his thumb over one deep wound. The space closed between his wandering thoughts and the dulled roar of conversations that spread throughout the vast hall. He heard Ron going on about the upcoming Quidditch match and strategies he had thought of, but he could not focus on his friend's excitement. The thrill, he once held for the game, no longer burned inside him. However, with the new addition of Ron to the Gryffindor team as a beater, the impending match with Slytherin felt a bit more endurable.
Harry sensed that breakfast was half over as a few Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students exited the Hall.
Bloody hell…Divination next. I wonder what horrible, unmentionable death I'll die today?
He swallowed yet another greasy sausage. It was not that he did not mind that it was an easy class; it was the effort required in actually going to the lessons. Sure, some courses he could see the importance in, Defense Against the Dark Arts for one, even Potions. Potions -- just the word caused Harry to shudder. He had lost so many points in Snape's class for being late, not paying attention, and not to mention for no reason at all, that he wouldn't be surprised if Gryffindor had negative points before Christmas. At least Potions had a purpose; Divination was useless.
"Hey Harry, you finished your Planet Charts, right? That bloody witch and her…"
"Yes," Harry interrupted Ron before he could go off rambling about Professor Trelawney.
Harry knew that his friends had not overlooked the façade that he had adopted since the end of fourth year. There were only so many times one could respond with monosyllabic answers or grunts before it became too painfully obvious to even the most moronic, even Neville had figured it out. Of course, they had tried to coax him out of his darkened state, but Harry would not delve into the delicate subject, and if any of them persisted, he would simply get up and leave, ending the conversation. Harry could not blame them for trying though, after all, that was the very same reason he chose them to be his friends. After realizing they would not be able to break through his barrier, they gave up and behaved as though nothing had changed, and quietly accepted the newly subdued Harry.
Harry spaced out for a while longer, nodding every minute or so at Ron, purely out of habit.
Wishing himself back on the Quidditch pitch flying, he felt the chilled air brush up against his skin. His thoughts rushed back to the morning's events. Back to Malfoy. Harry fixed his eyes on a table across the hall, upon a certain Slytherin. Draco absently chewed on the same piece of food for a couple minutes before swallowing, and pushed around the rest on his plate. Crabbe and Goyle seemed to be carrying on a conversation of their own –if that was at all humanly possible for them. He found himself understanding why Draco kept them as friends; two lumps like Crabbe and Goyle would only be good for protection. The other Slytherins at the table were, more or less, consumed with their own dishes or idle chitchat to even give Draco a glance. Draco appeared not to mind being overlooked by others. Even alone, he projected a superior aura, content in his own world.
Harry recognized some of himself in Draco as he studied the blond intently. Draco had the same distant stare he had perfected himself over the past year. Only Draco seemed more empty, more isolated. On further analysis, he thought no one else in the Slytherin house seemed much like the type to befriend, but rather to gain as an ally through fear and dominance.
Harry imagined Draco's home life equally cruel; having being raised around the Dark Arts, and to respect and follow a man like Lucius Malfoy. If ever a man lived up to his surname in every sense, it was Lucius Malfoy. Even if Draco did strut around all the time, spitting out vicious remarks, Harry did not feel he would ever live up to being a true Malfoy, and that he knew it as well.
As if he heard Harry's thoughts from across The Great Hall, Draco looked up straight into those green eyes. The cold emotionless stare expressed more words than his attitude would ever convey. Out of reflex, Harry turned his head away, but returned the gaze again moments later, only to find Draco's had not wavered. His presence appeared softened and worn, tired. The invasive gray eyes held on with purpose; Harry felt smothered by their emotion: loneliness.
Ron broke the connection with a hard slap on the back.
"Hey!" He gave a questioning expression and turned around to see what was so interesting.
"What are you looking at? C'mon, we're going to be late, again."
Harry piled all his books clumsily together and rushed off with the others to Divination, looking over his shoulder at the fading figure of Draco Malfoy.
*~*~*
Author's Note: If the prologue seemed hard to understand…The parts in italics were the dream, and everything in regular style, was just what the present Harry did and said.
At the end of the dream, Harry is finally able to touch Cedric because his dreams are taunting him. That he is not allowed to change the past.
Chapter two will be up in a few days, and trust me, it is longer than this chapter and actually has some interesting events. This chapter was only trying to portray what had been going on at Hogwarts from after fourth year through a month or so of sixth year.
And finally, I despise FFN and how things are uploaded onto their site. I absolutely hate it! And I am sick and tired of trying to put in the indentations and get the lyrics to be only one line…screw it all!!! *huffs*