Harry Potter: Meus Angelus

Rating: R/M (Maybe NC-17 if later chapters are left unedited)

Genres (main): Romance, action, and supernatural

Genres (possible): Horror, fantasy

Main pairing: Harry/Draco

Other pairings: Ron/Hermione Ginny/Dean, Remus/Nymphadora

Warnings: Slash, scenes of a sexual nature, violence, AU, OOC, spoilers for all books

Setting: This piece of fiction is set during Harry's sixth year, or directly after Order (either way). I will be using ideas from the Half-Blood Prince novel, so spoilers will litter this story.

Please, don't bother wasting my time about how much of a faggot I am for writing sex scenes between two boys, or how wildly OOC everyone might be. It's in the warnings.

I'm so Cold

Silence lay over the street. There was no sign of life, no breeze, nor any light from the stars or moon. Every house stood proud as they had since they were built, every lawn was neat with not a single flower nor blade of grass out of place. Privet Drive was as normal as ever, yet as dead as the occupants of each house.

The last lamp in the street went out with a click, and a white haired man placed a silver cigarette lighter back in his robe pocket, sighing mournfully. His eyes were blue, and lacked the sparkle usually present. His beard was long enough to be tucked into his belt. With his head bowed, he walked to the house with a number '4' on the oak door. The man pulled out his wand, muttered words under his breath, and pushed the door open. He approached the house's sitting room and looked in; he frowned at the sight he was greeted with.

Three bodies lay dead in their seats, unmarked and pale. It was not obvious to any normal man what had killed them, but this man knew.

He walked back out of the room, and up the stairs to what he assumed was the smallest bedroom. A wave of relief washed over him, for he could sense the boy lying on the floor was not dead.

"Come," the man whispered.

Light flooded the room, and a young man of twenty appeared next to him. This man had neck-length white-blonde hair and his eyes were as blue as the first man's, and they too sparkled.

"I'll leave you to it," the first man muttered, vanishing in a swish of cloak.

"Yes, leave me to it."

A low hum emitted from his mouth as the blonde hair turned black and grew to his hips, the blue eyes turned gold, and suddenly his skin was aged.

"Good evening Mr. Potter," he whispered. "It would be so easy for me to just go ahead and kill you, but that would be boring don't you think? No, I think I'll have my fun with you first!"

The boy in front of him stirred slightly, and a groan escaped his lips.

"Shh!" the man said, putting his fingers to his smirking lips, and then over the boy, who once again fell silent.

"Yes, I think this will be fun!" He placed the palm of his hand on the back of the boy's head and muttered, "Unus futurus an angelus, ceterus futurus a everto."

The room was once again filled with light, and the man flickered slightly, as though he were a hologram, and vanished. Not two seconds later, the boy known as Harry Potter awoke in a warm hospital bed at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.


The Malfoy Manor was a huge building surrounded by gardens. The manor itself was five storeys high, with a tower on each corner two storeys higher. A balcony ran along the back of the fourth floor, where Draco' Malfoy's rooms were. The said boy was sitting on black silk sheets in his room, staring out of the French doors.

Draco climbed of the bed and walked out onto the balcony to admire the view, but after sixteen years of it, he found it quite boring to say the least. With his elbow resting on the banister and his head in his hand, the blonde gazed out to the gardens, not caring for what he saw.

"Draco?" came a voice from his room. "Come back to bed."

Draco turned his head and smiled at the boy, who was climbing under the silk sheets, clad only in his black boxers. Rolling his eyes, the blonde shook his head and turned back to the dark grounds. He didn't know what he was looking for, or maybe he did but just couldn't admit it to himself.

"I know what you're thinking Drake" came Blaise's voice, "and it's the latter as usual. Just come back to bed already!"

Draco did as Blaise instructed and walked back to his bed and climbed in. He felt Blaise press their bodies together, making them both shudder.

"Tell me, why am I in your bed again? It's not like we do anything except cuddle."

"Two reasons we have gone over before Blaise, the first being that it was you who used to crawl into my bed saying you were scared of the dark, and the second being this manor can get cold as hell itself sometimes, and we need to hold each other close to keep ourselves warm! Yes, I do realise it's summer, but ever since I turned sixteen, I've been really sensitive. You heard me in the dorm back at school."

"Yeah, I did," admitted Blaise, pulling Draco's pale body, if possible, even closer by wrapping his arms around the smaller boy. "To be honest, I'm boiling tonight! How can you say it's cold?"

"Easy, I'm sensitive. Besides, at least we don't have to be like this night and day. That would be awful."

"Why is it only at night anyway?" Blaise questioned, looking through the glass in the French doors to the clouded sky.

"I honestly have no idea. I'll have a look in the library when we get back to school." Draco yawned and nuzzled Blaise's neck, and within seconds he was asleep.


Albus Dumbledore sat in his round office, staring at the little silver instruments as they whirred, expelled smoke and glistened in the soft candlelight. He stroked his long white beard thoughtfully, allowing Severus Snape to pace back and forth impatiently.

"What are we to do headmaster?" he questioned, never ceasing his pacing.

"I suppose we could try and make them fall for each other. It's the only way to keep Draco comfortable and lose his paranoia."

"So you noticed that too? Then again I don't blame him, with his father in Azkaban. And all these prophecies! I hope you know what you're doing Albus because it's almost as if they were made to contradict each other."

"Maybe they were made to Severus. Now please calm down! You're giving me a headache!"

Snape didn't stop, however, he merely threw his hands into the air in frustration and quickened his steps.

"He doesn't allow anyone touch him but this Zabini boy am I right?" Dumbledore asked. After receiving a nod as reply, the old man continued. "In that case, Mr. Zabini is his…controller I suppose. He is binding Draco's strength, albeit unknowingly, but this connection will be weakened at the end of July and ended by the end of the year, meaning his only sanctuary is currently here at Hogwarts. We must invite him to Hogwarts as soon as possible. Polo?"

Snape glared at the packet of mints Dumbledore had offered him, and refused.

"Headmaster, I refuse to play any part in this!"

"Oh come now, don't be daft Severus! I need you to help mister Malfoy agree to this, which he will when he learns of the consequences."

Snape threw the old man another glare, before storming out of the office (slamming the door as he left of course) and headed to his own rooms on the bottom floor.


Draco had always been, and always will be the proud young man people would expect of his name. Not once had he told another living soul one of his dreams (except maybe his pet dragon, Nemo). His dreams, and his nightmares, were either clear, or clouded, never in between.

After his sixteenth birthday, his dreams took that turn, and he felt stressed beyond relief.

He would be laying on a bed with silk sheets, wearing no clothes, only an emerald robe. Mist arched from his back and towards his lower body, like a grey rainbow. Silver feathers rained from a non-existent ceiling, and landed gently on Draco's body. Someone would crawl between his legs, also naked, and kiss him gently, before resting their head on his stomach and falling asleep.

The dreams left the blonde boy frustrated and confused. He had resorted to researching dreams in several ancient books from the small library in the little village near the manor, but had learnt nothing other than he would find his destined soon…whoever the hell that was.

There was a shuffle and a small, happy moan as Blaise turned over.

With a dramatic sigh, Draco wrapped his arms around Blaise's naked torso and forced himself to sleep. He'd send an owl to Snape in the morning requesting a dreamless sleep potion, which would only blur the dreams, but calm Draco.


Harry awoke in the Hogwarts infirmary, wearing only the jeans he had worn when he had felt that pain and passed out. He sat up slowly, feeling strangely heavy as he did so. A sharp pain spread through his back, and was doubled in his shoulder blades. Out of exhaustion, he let his body collapse onto the bed again.

Green eyes stared at the ceiling, dull with exhaustion. His arms lay at his side, unmoving until he gathered the strength. He reached over his torso with his wand hand, and slowly stroked a silky feather. His head turned slowly, and let his gaze land upon a wing, taking up three beds beside him. It lay dull and lifeless beside him, giving an involuntary jerk as Harry plucked a feather from it. The feather, which was darker than the night and heavier than it should be, suddenly burst into flame in Harry's hand, and in seconds was nothing more than a pile of ash on his chest.

A candle suddenly lit itself on the bedside cabinet, allowing Harry a better view of the wings. They both lay across three hospital beds, and were black in colour. Some seemed to glisten as the candle flame danced and jumped, while others seemed to just resist the light.

Harry took in his surroundings, and noticed the hospital wing was larger than usual, probably to allow his wings space. A bed on the other side of the room supported a strange shape, almost like a skeleton. Its fleshless form seemed to writhe very slightly in the dim light, and small strands of a rotted grey material crawled over the bones, forming and intertwining to make tiny shreds of skin on the thumb, then stopped along with the writhing.

"Good evening Harry."

It was Remus Lupin; the closest person Harry could consider family. His light brown hair was tamely strewn around his head, and his hazel eyes glimmered in the candlelight. He wore a long black robe and cloak, both of which he left at the end of Harry's bed.

"How are you feeling?" the man asked kindly.

"Scared," was the honest answer.

"I don't blame you. Shh, don't cry!" he whispered as tears started to leak down Harry's cheek. He wiped them away carefully with his finger and stroked a tuft of Harry's hair out of his face.

"What's going on Remus? Why am I like this?"

"I don't know Harry. I really don't know."

"First Sirius, now I have fucking wings!"

"Harry, calm down. Don't try and upset yourself, it won't do you any good.

"Term is starting next week. Professor Snape has taken the…err…liberty of buying you your school items for you. They are up in the dormitory for when you are able to stand."

Harry could feels his friend's eyes move to his wings.

"Best to get some sleep Harry. Sorry to have disturbed you. Good night."

Harry watched him pull his robe and cloak back over his shoulders, and then move to the bed with the skeleton on it.

"Get well soon."

That could've gone worse I suppose. Please leave me a review? It does wonders, you wouldn't believe it…