Title: Leave Me Wordless

Rating: M (male/male slash pairings, violent subject matter, language, mature subject matter etc…)

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is amazing and owns this wonderful world. I may own characters you don't' recognize, but they're hardly as interesting as Harry and Draco.

Summary: SEQUEL to "Speak To Me". Harry Potter is finding it hard to move on, but is finally exposing himself to the wizarding world. With a mind not full, but yearning, he tries to live his life as normally as he can, dreaming of Draco Malfoy every step of the way.

Author's Silly Ramble: The sequel you've been waiting for! Thanks for being so patient, and thank you for reading Speak To Me. I adore you all (and am keeping this short!) and hope you'll enjoy this story and where I take it. Full author's note at the bottom:)

Chapter One: Snowing freckles

x.x.x.x

Harry Potter walked along the streets of Diagon Alley with a purpose. His gloved hands were shoved inside the pockets of his deep green cloak and his boots clicked noisily on the sidewalk. Of course, the click of his shoes was hardly heard above the happy chattering of students shopping for Christmas gifts as they pushed past him, not without staring of course.

In fact, a little boy with dark brown hair and freckles scattered across his cheek bones stopped right beside him, just outside of Flourish and Blotts, and dropped his books in a stunned surprise.

"You're Harry Potter!" He cried, his eyes wide and a large smile on his face.

That's what they say.

Harry cleared his throat, his dark green eyes flickering around the streets before landing on the blue eyes that belonged to the excited youth. "Er—Yeah. That's me."

How do you know?

This had been happening over the past few months continuously, as he had finally just started leaving his flat. Witches and wizards of all ages would stop him in his tracks and stare at him for minutes, before bowing or shaking his hand, their eyes either wide with enthuse or fluttering and teary with remorse and gratitude.

"Wow. Mum talks about you all the time." He paused, before his cheerful eyes suddenly darkened, "She'd really love to meet you, you know." There was suddenly a sullen mood that hung over them, and Harry shifted.

"Your… Mum?"

The boy nodded eagerly, before bending down to pick up his books. "Yeah, but I bet everyone would, really." He said, somewhat sheepishly. "My dad fought in the war you know, I'm not sure if you remember him… Gully Wynnes?"

Harry frowned, fingering some change in his cloak pocket, before swallowing thickly. He hadn't believed the war actually existed, until Hermione and Ron had sat him down and explained that the war memories that kept reoccurring in his mind were of importance, and were in fact, real. That there had been a war so tragic that millions of people had died all over the world and that Harry had been a huge aid.

A dark voice swam through his head, one that was somewhat amused and yet irritated. The sinister drawl elicited a shudder from his fragile body, and he clenched his fists just slightly.

So cold.

"I know you thought you'd be the one to defeat me…"

There was no escape, nowhere to run. He'd fallen into Voldemort's trap and could feel the terror begin to paralyze him.

Harry's eyes closed briefly and the fabric of his cloak squeezed tighter between his clenched fists, before he slowly let his fingers release. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he looked back at the boy.

"I'm… I don't…"

He paused, the world somewhat disappearing behind a veil of his thoughts, and he realized there was so much to his past that he'd never know and never relive. Memories and people that were so important at one time, only to be wiped away, leaving no traces.

"I don't remember."

His voice was airy, wondering and at the same time, the tone of depression that lingered on the edge of his words was so forlorn that it seemed the entire alley had stilled as they left his mouth.

He couldn't hear anything except the own voices in his mind, telling him over and over, "You're Harry Potter."

Replaying images over and over…

The snitch was so close that each flutter of its light wings cast a tiny breeze on the tips of his fingers. Just a few more inches and he'd be able to grasp it beneath his palm, curling his fingers around it possessively.

He risked a glance behind him, and was met with the sneering and defeated face of a childhood rival.

Blonde hair, so familiar, made Harry's breath catch in his throat, made every nerve in his body quiver with a feeling so electric and intensifying that he felt the very marrow of his bones ache with longing.

A feeling of intense dislike, and the sudden urge to gloat…

Harry grinned at Draco Malfoy grimly, the snitch fluttering between his fingers. Then, with a quick turn of his broom, he was speeding off and leaving the Slytherin behind.

Draco.

Don't leave him,

Don't take him from me,

Please.

Don't leave me

"Mr. Potter?"

Harry's eyes snapped open and with a crashing realization, he found himself back in reality. Only… his usual daydream about Draco had been different this time…

It didn't consist of a secret room deep within the Hogwarts castle, or loving sneaky touches beneath a desk which held a bubbling cauldron. No hand holding or soft, warm embraces…

No feather-light kisses, so tender and hesitant that Harry almost forgot to breathe when thinking about them.

Instead, there had been the intense urge to cause Draco, his Draco—the boy of his dreams, unhealthy as it was to be helplessly in love with a fabrication developed by your own mind— utmost pain and humiliation. The impulse to gloat in Draco's face, for Gryffindor had won the House Cup because once again, the Slytherin had failed to prevent Harry Potter, the greatest seeker of his time, from reaching the snitch.

"Mr. Potter!" The voice insisted, the face that accompanied it was curious and tinged red with awkwardness.

Harry stared at the boy, before inclining his head slightly. "Erm—Sorry."

The boy's eyes widened and he shook his head, "Harry Potter … say sorry to me?" He looked suddenly extremely nervous, as if he didn't deserve anything like that from his hero.

Harry was beginning to feel a familiar ache rest itself in his stomach, and swallowed. "I—I have to go." He said abruptly, forgetting about Christmas presents completely.

The boy watched him retreat, his arms limp yet still managing to hold his books tightly against his chest. With a dazed look of pleasure on his face, he walked across the alley to the floo station that would take him home.

x.x.x.x

"Mathieu! How many times do I have to tell you not to take the floo? The underground route works just as well."

The dark-haired boy beamed as he climbed out of the fire, wiping off soot from his robes and not caring the least it landed in a messy pile at his feet, staining the cream rug. He dropped his books lifelessly onto the sofa next to him, collapsing promptly into the armchair facing the fireplace.

"Oh mum!" He cried, leaning his head against the rest. "It's not just a legend! Harry Potter has finally shown himself. And the papers aren't lie!"

There was a clatter in the direction of the kitchen and a sharp intake of breath. A long pause came soon after, before the woman slowly emerged from the kitchen, holding a piece of the broken plate in her hand. "Now—Now Gully, don't go spreading rumors like that. You know Harry Potter hasn't been seen, aside from a few years ago at Hogwarts. Don't go bringing up people's hopes up, son."

Mathieu, or Gully as his mom called him, frowned. "No, mum! I saw him, I did! The papers are telling the truth, I swear! There have been sightings, I even… even asked him about dad."

Margaret Wynnes hurried to her son's side, sitting down quickly on the foot rest. "And?"

Mathieu's voice faltered, before he looked pointedly away, "he doesn't remember, but I reckon he worked with a lot of men, mum! You can't blame him."

The woman nodded, expecting as much. The connection to her husband severed, she sighed and leaned forward, resting a hand on her son's knee affectionately. Then, hoisting herself up, she moved back toward the kitchen. "Was he as nice as they say?"

The boy grinned to himself, "He's spectacular, mum! He really is a true hero!"

The woman laughed, the sound airily flowing from the kitchen. Mathieu smiled and picked up his books.

"Oh, Gully! Can you go check the woods for those pesky doxies? They've nested, I'm positive, nasty things they are!" She muttered, her voice disappearing as she began preparing dinner.

Mathieu groaned, but picked up the repellent from the closet and pulled on his boots. "Sure, mum, whatever you say."

Margaret smiled to herself, half-catching the cheeky smirk on her son's face before he closed the door behind him.

Her mind wheeled around her son, and she bit a lip in worry. "Don't go losing your wits on me now, Gully." She whispered to herself, thoroughly convinced the boy was making his Potter story up, hopefully from the excitement of the paper's stories.

x.x.x.x

"I hate snow." Mathieu mumbled to himself, kicking at the frosty substance with his foot. His voice was muffled by the Ravenclaw scarf wrapped tightly around his neck and his fingers only barely aware they were holding the can of repellent, adorned in thick black gloves.

A sound behind him caused him to turn around sharply and point the can of spray just in front of him. "Who's there!" His voice echoed around the woods, and he frowned walking closer to a cluster of trees. His feet crunched in the snow, and he cursed the winter for his lack of subtle sneakiness.

At once, a flutter of wings sped past him, along with a high-pitched cackle. Spinning around at once, Mathieu tripped over the roots of a tree and fell onto the snow, his face coated with it. Spitting it out, he jumped up and wiped his numbing face off with his hands.

"Bloody doxies! You get back here!"

A few more speeding sounds near his ears minutes later, and he found himself surrounded by six or more doxies. His eye twitched, before he held up the repellent. "Don't try anything… Or—Or, I'll spray!"

They seemed to laugh at him, swooping around him and causing him to fall back in the snow. "If I could use magic out of school," he cried, "You'd all be banished to the fiery pits of—"

A sudden flash of red light whizzed past his ear, and Mathieu groaned. "Don't tell me these woods are infested with skrewts as well." He said theatrically, crawling around to face whatever—whoever—it was.

"Who are you?"

The young man was leaning against a tree, his wand held at his side and his hair billowing in the wind. There was something about his frame that wasn't right, Mathieu decided, and he moved closer.

"Wait a minute, are you alright?" He asked with a raised eyebrow, moving closer still. "Did those doxies cause you to break something?"

The man looked back at Mathieu, and he gasped as he noticed bruises scattered across the pale face.

"Not quite," answered the drawling voice, before he blinked and slid down the tree he was leaning against.

The boy's eyes widened, and he ran to the man's side. "Hey! Wake up!"

Draco Malfoy opened his eyes slightly, before moaning. "I… Zabini." Mathieu frowned, before brightening. "Are you Blaise Zabini?" Obviously crazy if that's what you think, he thought to himself, Last I checked, the famous lawyer wasn't so blonde.

"Dimwit, you're as bad as Potter," Draco smiled slightly to himself, and Mathieu thought it looked like a desperately sorrowful smile. Then the man's purpling eyelids closed once more.

"Potter?" Mathieu stood up and shook the man. "Do you know Harry Potter?" With no answer, the brunette sighed heavily. Then, with a sidelong glance toward the man's wand, he picked it up and pointed it at the blonde.

With a quick incantation, Draco was hovering in the air and a panting Mathieu Wynnes led him back to his cottage.

x.x.x.x

A/N: Okay, this wasn't what you were expecting, right? I'm so happy for that! I want to try something new, and something exciting, and this is totally exciting for me right now! I've been working on this for a while, perfecting the chapter and the plotline… not wanting to post it until I was completely positive it was what I wanted… Because this is the sequel you all have been waiting for and I want to do Speak To Me justice!

Mathieu… He's an original character, and I hope you don't mind me just sneaking him in there… And before you ask, his father isn't of any importance to the story :P

I haven't written any of the further chapters just yet, so updates will be very sporadic. Physics is taking up a lot of my time, and I did horrible on an exam today, so school will occupy a lot of my time, unfortunately.

I really don't want to leave you hanging though! So I'm going to try to post once every month (I'll try really hard, I promise!) I'm setting a limit of 2 months maximum for myself, and you can all poke me with pointy sticks if I fail to stay within that timeframe.

I want this to be really nicely structured though, so go easy on me :P

Thank-you all so, so much for reading Speak To Me, and giving the sequel a chance! You loyal readers have been my inspiration and motivation, and also brighten up my day with your lovely comments, haha!

And as for new readers, I hope you enjoy this!

Shadow