A Different Kind of Pure Blood- Written by Ceilidh Clemens, Characters © JKR
Part 1- Twist Away
I don't want to…
"wake up, boy! NOW!"
No, I'd really rather lie here until I die…
A huge fist crashed into Harry Potter's chest, causing the thin boy to cry out in pain, all the wind knocked from his body. While he lie gasping, trying to recover from the unexpected blow, his massive uncle Vernon glared at the messy black hair of his pathetic nephew. Green eyes filled with tears as Harry looked up, gasping out a weak "yes, uncle Vernon," while he forced his breathing back to normal.
"Get dressed, boy. You're going to buy groceries."
"Yes, uncle Vernon," Harry whispered, wincing in pain. The large man retreated from the room, letting Harry dress himself.
As the frail boy put on some clothes, the tears that had gathered in his eyes finally slid down the bony curve of his cheek. The Order of the Phoenix had sent him back to the Dursleys with promises that he wouldn't be mistreated again. But the dead couldn't keep their promise… All the members of the Order were dead and buried, murdered and left broken in the wake of the Dark Lord. Harry no longer had guards at Number 4, Privet Drive. He knew perfectly ell that, at any given moment, he could hear the words 'Avada Kedavra' and fall lifelessly to the ground. He almost wished they would kill him and have it done with. Everyone he loved had been taken away from him. Well, almost. Ron and Hermione lived, but they were in hiding.
Within minutes, Harry was flung unceremoniously out the door with twenty pounds and a brief grocery list. It was a grand opportunity to run away, but Harry was without his magic wand. He would have had it with him, but Vernon had taken it away from him. He, too, waited impatiently for the death of Harry Potter. It was with a pathetic groan that the boy plucked his head from the flowerbed in which it had landed, spat out dirt, and grudgingly sauntered toward the corner store.
The night air was cold around him, and he wished he could have at least gotten a jacket. Yes, it was night; about three in the morning, really. During previous summer breaks, the Dursleys would make him labor from the moment he awoke to the moment he went to bed. This year, they were malicious, never letting him sleep a full night. They wanted him to be weak by the time a random Death Eater came after him. He was a plague upon their doorstep, a danger to the family, a disgrace, a thing that needed to be destroyed…
But a few minutes later, he left the little shop with a clunky armload of overpriced food, wishing he had used a bit of cash to get himself a chocolate bar, or anything to curb his appetite. The Dursleys had also fallen back to their punishment during his second year; starvation. This year, he couldn't write to anyone to send food. There was nobody left, so he had to bear it. Vernon Dursley would notice if even the smallest amount of cash went missing. Harry shrugged his load up, longing to return to Hogwarts, but that was weeks ago. Maybe he could live through this.
If he really wanted to. As witnessed only by the moon, another tear cascaded down his cheek, and he whispered softly, "Now. Come out and do it now. If anybody can hear me, kill me now."
Harry paused for a moment, hoping to hear something remotely like footsteps behind him, but nothing reached his ears save the nightly breeze. He still hoped to hear it, though. Still freezing in the crisp night, he pleaded for any noise, anything at all. Then, and only then, it reached his ears. But it wasn't the footsteps he expected.
Someone was crying.
Harry had cried many times in the past, and heard many people crying. He knew how to distinguish fake sobs from the soft gasps of depression, and he could hear the difference between panic and pain. The person was in pain. There were whimpers and sharp gasps between the choked-out sobs. Agony. Terrified agony.
He determination to be murdered vanished instantly, to be replaced by alarm and pity. Clutching his bags close, Harry followed the sound. His ears and feet led him to a darkened alley, between two abandoned old homes. Who would be crying in there? The possibility of this being a trap flickered through his mind, but he didn't care. The Dark Lord had used his good heart against him, but for once, he didn't mind the idea of being murdered. What he wouldn't stand for was the potential abandonment of somebody that really needed help. He wanted to find and comfort this person, damage be damned.
He stepped into the darkness.
A small figure was huddled up against a trash can, convulsing, racked with sobs. "What's the matter?" Harry asked gently, setting down the groceries and debating internally whether or not he should go nearer.
"Hungry," a young, broken voice responded. It was hard to tell, but Harry thought it was a boy's voice. "I'm so hungry." The voice was familiar, but Harry just couldn't place it.
"I have some food," Harry said lightly, knowing he would be beaten for giving some food away, but this seemed to be a good cause. The boy stopped trembling so much, and his head tilted up, but the shadows were too deep for Harry to recognize him.
"You would feed me?" he gasped, something in his voice reading of frightened hesitance. "You?"
"Of course!" Harry replied. The hair on the back of his neck was prickling, but he couldn't see why. He lowered his eyes from the boy, so that he could dig in the bag for something ready to eat. He found bread rolls and cheese. The shaking boy whispered something, but Harry didn't hear him properly, so he looked up- only to find that the boy had vanished.
"Hello?" Harry whispered, suddenly awake with dread. He should have known. He should have seen it coming. The Dark Lord had used his good heart against him before.
"Thank you," the broken voice cooed from behind Harry's ear. Before he could turn around, icy hands latched onto his shoulder. He was so shocked by the cold that he froze, muscles tensed as his body attempted and failed to shudder. Perhaps this wasn't a trap, and the hungry kid was just an incredibly creepy hungry kid. But the fact remained that Harry simply could not move.
While Harry remained stationary, those cold (and thin!) arms twined their way around him, locking him in place. The grip was so firm that, when Harry recovered from his shock, he still would be immobile. He felt the telltale contours of the boy's chin rest gently on his shoulder, effectively scaring the clockworks out of him.
"Thank you so much… Harry."
Upon hearing his name, Harry tried to twist around to see the hungry guy, wanting to ask how he knew who he was, but this action was cut off abruptly. Harry gasped and tried to struggle as he felt a stabbing pain in his neck, the telltale sensation of flesh being separated. Was this guy slitting his throat! He tried to kick out behind him, or at least turn around, but he found he could do neither. In fact, he had no control over his body at all. His eyes widened with horror as he found himself slumping back into the arms of the stranger, with a strangled groan. His head fell back onto the stranger's shoulder.
The second he relaxed, the searing pain vanished, replaced by something else entirely. Ecstasy. It was almost like the Imperious curse, only, instead of being commanded to do something in his blissful state of mind, he had only to relax and enjoy it. The alley had already been pitch black before, but he knew his vision was fading into darkness. He found the he didn't really care now, even has his body relaxed to the point of not breathing. This was a much better way to die than anything he had ever imagined, even if he didn't understand what was happening. He could feel his heart slowing down…
It was gone as suddenly as it had came. Harry found himself shuddering and drawing in weak gasps of air, still held by the boy, still incapable of movement. What in Merlin's name just happened? He neck was still stinging slightly. The stranger turned him slightly, but through Harry's clouded vision, he couldn't se any of his features. He was just looking at Harry, just looking. He looked like a bright spot in Harry's vision, which meant he must have been extremely pale. Though this was a calm moment, a solitary thought passed through Harry's mind… This guy just tried to kill me.
The stranger seemed to notice what was going through Harry's mind, because he tensed and turned around to run. Harry didn't let him. His fist swung out, catching the boy with a blow to the back of the head. Dizzy from the sudden motion, Harry slumped weakly against the wall, staring in shock at the boy beside him.
His vision cleared for a split second as the pale boy slowly turned to gape at him. His eyes were gray, hair smooth and blond. He wore black robes that were torn in several places, yet still appeared very fine and well tailored. Harry stared at him as the boy's eyes rolled up slightly, and he collapsed gracefully onto the pavement.
It was Draco Malfoy, Harry realized, as his last ounce of strength faded and the world fell to darkness.
Well, there's the first part! What do YOU think just happened? Please REVIEW!