Author's note: I am beginning this fanfiction while I write Ambivalent Lucidity (Rewrite) because I want to get it out there and (hopefully) finished before the seventh book. I hope you all enjoy it! My approach to writing this fic is completely different than anything I've ever done!
Future warnings for this fic: Harry/Draco non-con, character deaths, general darkness and character unhappiness
And now, Sakai Michiba presents:
Harry Potter returned only briefly to the Dursleys after his sixth year for several reasons. On top of the list was the fact that he despised his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon almost as much as he hated Dudley. Another very good reason was the fact that they wanted absolutely nothing to do with him at all anymore, since he would soon be coming of age and allowed to perform magic outside of school. When Harry informed them of this fact, he thought for sure that his uncle would have a heart attack, and he had gone to bed with a very satisfied look on his face. Nothing was as exhilarating as knowing that he would never have to stroll into this house again, if he so wished.
Another very good reason was the fact that McGonagall had contacted him soon after he arrived that Hogwarts would not be opening for his seventh year. As soon as he could arrange a transport to the Order headquarters, which was back at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place now that they were certain that it was Harry's and not Bellatrix Lestrange's, he was packed and waiting for his escort. Sitting downstairs with his trunk, filled with clothes and books, he played idly with his wand in his hand, staring at Dudley with a nasty sneer on his face. "Hey Dudley," he said quietly, and he leaned forward to leer at him. Unlike his reaction to Sirius's death, with Dumbledore's he only seemed to get crueler to his 'family.' "You know, it would only take two words, and you'd be dead. Two. Words."
Dudley's eyes widened, and he pressed himself back into the couch, swallowing thickly. "Bollocks. Two words never killed anybo–"
"Oh yes they do, Dudders. Do you want to hear them, those two little words? They're Ava–"
Harry took a sick pleasure from hearing Dudley scream like a little girl, and he watched him run away in horror before he smiled nastily to himself. Petunia was just coming in to yell at him when there was a knock at the door, and Harry shot her a wicked grin before he got up to answer the door. "Harry!" exclaimed Tonks, who was sporting a neon green mohawk and pink eyes. Harry was quite sure he heard Petunia scream, and he grinned as Tonks seized him in a bear hug. "How's your summer been? Oh, forget it, forget it, we'll talk on the way!" She looked around the house in distaste and shook her head. "Shrink your trunk?"
Harry did as she asked and pocketed his trunk with his wand, which he held tightly on to. Tonks stepped inside the dwelling and wrinkled her nose before she wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulder. "Side-Along Apparition for us today, Harry...It's not safe to fly!" Harry was vaguely aware of his cousin and Petunia staring at them in alarm, and he stuck his tongue out in a most juvenile manner before he felt a harsh tug and the world began to spin around him.
They landed outside of the Order's headquarters, and Harry took a deep breath, not entirely sure he was ready to go inside again. He had not been since fifth year, since he came there looking for Sirius, and he felt his heart ache as Tonks opened the door for him. However, the ache in his heart disappeared when he realised that two of his least favourite people were seated at the table in the kitchen, and he felt a snarl spread over his lips as he raised his wand in fury unlike any he had ever known. "What the bloody fuck are they doing here?!"
Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy had spent the end of Draco's sixth year and part of the summer in hiding, and so when Snape informed Draco that they had a place to stay, now that the arrangements had been made and compromises found, Draco was just happy to get out of caves. When they came into Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, however, Draco was not entirely sure that it was any better than the caves he had been sleeping in.
First of all, there was the constant presence of Granger and Weasley, with all of Weasley's siblings and parents, and he felt sick to his stomach any time that he went down for a meal. "Really, Mister Malfoy, you should stay longer than you do at the table," fussed Molly nearly every time he sat down (he never spent more than two minutes in their presence at a time), and he would shoot her the nastiest glare he could -muster. He hated how she tutted and tsked over him, and he hated the way every single one of her present children glared at him any time she did so.
One time, Ron followed him up to his room, and he felt his temper flaring when Ron began to yell, and he slammed the door in his face. He was not interested in talking–not about Dumbledore, not about his father, and especially not about the fact that Potter would be coming to the headquarters any day now. He did not want to hear Potter's name, smell his soap, or see his stupid scarhead.
And so, when Potter zeroed in on him the moment he arrived at the Order headquarters and started cursing, he rested his forehead in his hand and looked up to Molly Weasley, who was frowning distinctly. "Mrs. Weasley, can I get a pint of Firewhiskey?" he asked, and the sound of her squawking at him was just what he needed to lift his spirits enough to lift his head and sneer at Potter in the doorway.
"You're letting out all the heat, Po–" Before he could finish his sentence, Harry had him by the hair, wand pressed to his pale throat and a nasty snarl plastered on Harry's face. He saw Snape, who was there to make a report to Arthur after breakfast, leap up at his side, but he held up his hand and shook his head slightly.
"I asked, what the HELL are you doing here, you murderer?!" Harry screamed, and he was actually angry for the first time since he had left Hogwarts. He could see nothing but red as he jerked Malfoy's hair again, nearly tipping his chair over.
"Potter, release him!" Snape growled, and he simply reached over and snatched Harry's wand from his hand. "Goddamnit, Potter, have you no sense? If Draco were not completely trustworthy, do you honestly believe that he would be allowed residence in the Order headquarters?" Loathing and fury etched every line on Severus's face, and Draco found himself pressed against the table, which was pressing hard into the small of his back. He was trembling inexplicably, quavering hard enough that his hair was waving with the movement, and he hated himself for being afraid like this.
He was in an unfamiliar home with unfamiliar people, including his archnemesis, and he wanted nothing more than to run to his mother, who was also staying in the headquarters. He knew, however, that this would be a very bad, very embarrassing move. While Snape and Harry screamed and accused one another, he found his opportunity to slip out of the kitchen. As he ran past the living room up to his bedroom, he saw Granger watching him with something akin to sympathy on her face, and he wanted to slap her for it.
He wanted to slap himself.
And so, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were forced to coexist at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Any time Snape came around, Harry had a way of disappearing into his room, and somehow, Harry and Draco never ate meals together. One afternoon, however, when Ron and Harry were seated together at the lunch table with huge grins on their faces from discussing the Quidditch World Cup coming up, Draco happened down for something to drink and the looks melted right off their faces. "Good afternoon," Draco muttered, and he was just beginning to get something out of the refrigerator when he felt the tip of a wand pressed to the back of his neck. "...Potter, stand down." He sounded exhausted, and he looked it. He had not bothered to shower or brush his hair that morning, and so his hair was stuck out in all directions and there was some smudge on his cheek that looked as though it could be either ink or mud.
"No. NO!" Harry growled, and he pressed himself against Draco, effectively pinning him against the dirty old counter. He reached down and grabbed Draco's wand, tossing it aside with a clatter, and he pressed the tip of his wand so hard against the nape of Draco's neck that one of Draco's vertebrae popped. The blonde winced, and he stared fixedly at the counter-top, wishing that the fat Mrs. Weasley would make her rounds and stop him. "If it weren't for you, Dumbledore would still be here. Why, exactly, should I stand down when you certainly didn't?" Harry said all of this in a low, harsh whisper, and the feel of his mouth so close to Draco's ear made Draco want to drive a wooden stake through the centre of his heart.
"In case you forgot, Potter," he breathed, his eyes fixed on the edge of the counter-top. There was a stain there that looked suspiciously like blood, and he touched it lightly with his fingertip before he glanced over his shoulder to see Harry not three inches away, green eyes on fire with fury. "I did not lay a hand on Dumbledore." These were apparently the wrong words to say, as he yelped when Harry's hands snatched his forearms and wrenched them painfully behind his back. "Let me go, you fucking–OUCH, DAMN YOU!"
Weasley had gotten in on it, coming over to the pair and kicking Draco very, very hard in the back of the knee. Draco yelped and lost all semblance of balance in this awkward position, and he fell forward, smashing his face on the counter-top with a sickening crunch. Tears surged to his eyes, spilling over and mixing with the blood that was very suddenly everywhere, and he opened his mouth and screamed in a very undignified manner, hoping to attract anyone, anyone who might help him. The scream startled Harry and Ron enough that they immediately backed off, and Draco hit the floor choking on his own blood and sobbing. "Fuck," he heard Potter whisper just as the blood trickling down his throat gagged him, and he threw up on the old linoleum.
"Oh, my God!" A different voice, this time–Mrs. Weasley–cut through the thick haze of his thoughts as he watched the scene from the floor. Arthur Weasley had appeared, too, and he was the one to come over to Draco, bloody and beaten, and Draco heard his voice as though it were very far away as he chanted spells over him. Draco's eyes were fixed on Ron and Harry, who were caught by their ears by Molly, and he felt a nasty little smirk come over his face as Molly actually slapped Ron in the face.
He did not know when, exactly, he passed out, but he was thankful for it.
"What are you boys thinking?" Arthur's voice was low and dangerous as he cornered his son and Harry. They were all sitting at the kitchen table after Arthur had healed Draco's wounds and put him to bed, and it was obvious that Ron and Harry were terrified. Harry had never done anything like that before, had never bullied anyone because of the way Dudley had treated him, and he was appalled at his own actions. Ron did not look as though he regretted it very much though, sitting there with his arms crossed and an angry expression clouding his blue eyes. "I know you two can't stand him, but Dumbledore ordered Snape to bring him and Narcissa into hiding, and you boys should respect that. He is not fighting against you any longer," Arthur reasoned, and he nodded to Molly as she came into the room and sat down beside him.
"Arthur is right. Draco may be your enemy at school, but here you are on equal terms. I suggest you find a way to work together before he really gets hurt, because if this happens again, you two will be in so much trouble...I can't even express how much trouble you will be in. Draco has a concussion thanks to you! You're bloody lucky Narcissa didn't hex you both into next year!" Molly lectured furiously, and she gave Harry a troubled glare. "And you, Harry...I thought you would be better than this! The both of you are to go apologise to him immediately!"
Ron gave a harsh, barking laugh and pushed away from the table, shaking his head and leaving the room. Harry heard him burst out laughing properly in the next room, and he gazed into the angry, disappointed faces of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. He felt terrible–not for Draco, but for disappointing the only parents he had left–and he gave a nod. "I'll apologise," he said, though they all knew that his apology would be completely insincere. Arthur and Molly seemed satisfied, however, as he rose form the table and begrudgingly made his way up the old, creaky wooden stairs to the mildly warped door that was Draco's.
He did not even knock on the door before he entered, and he suddenly felt very subdued in the mild light of the room. Draco was in bed, facing away from him and curled up, and Harry was very, very embarrassed as he walked as quietly as he could over to the bedside and cleared his throat. "Er, Malfoy?" he whispered, hoping he wouldn't wake up. Draco made no movement at all, and Harry sighed with relief. Molly never said that he had to apologise while Draco was awake, and so he would apologise now while Draco was still unconscious. "Sorry about that. You deserved it, really, for being such a prat, nearly getting me and all my friends killed, and then having the balls to seek shelter in my home...but I'm sorry, nonetheless. At least, I'm supposed to say that." He smiled triumphantly and turned around to walk out when he heard the sheets sigh with Draco's movement, and his face fell.
"Buttering me up isn't going to do you any fucking good, Potter. If I weren't being constantly herded by Mum, I'd have you on your face so fast you wouldn't have a clue how I'd done it, but fortunately for you, I can't fight back as long as I am being protected. Do me a favour, Potter–just leave me the hell alone," he whispered dangerously, and he smirked to himself as Harry's shoulders froze. "Just walk out, Potter."
The last thing he expected was for Harry to suddenly be on the bed, snarling as he pinned Draco down to the mattress with his hands around his throat. He opened his mouth, but one of Harry's hands moved quickly to cover it, and Draco watched helplessly as Harry got no more than an inch away from touching the tips of their noses. "Listen to me, Malfoy," Harry hissed through his teeth, and he leaned on his hands a little so Draco's throat was crushed. Draco was choking and spitting against his hand, and Harry took a small pleasure in watching him turn beet red before he allowed him breath. "My house, my rules, and you'll be staying behind the scenes, no matter what the Weasleys say. Got it?" He pulled his hand away from Draco's mouth just slightly to allow him an answer.
Draco took advantage of the situation and lifted his head up suddenly to latch his teeth onto Harry's hand, tasting blood in his mouth as Harry's screams filled the claustrophobia-inducing room, and he heard footsteps running up the stairs as he dug his teeth in as hard as he could. He could not feel Harry's other hand jerking at his hair, pulling out handfuls, and he only released his bear-trap grip when Arthur and Molly appeared in the doorway, looking confused and infuriated. He opened his mouth, blood smeared on his chin and lips, and he blew a nasty kiss to Harry before the boy was hauled out of the room. He saw the horrified look on Molly's face, and he sneered at her before rolling back over in bed and closing his eyes.
He would sleep well that night, and when he woke up, Draco had a plan.
"Severus, can I talk to you?" He padded barefoot down to breakfast the next morning, looking strangely happy even though he received many nasty glares from the Weasley litter perched around the table. He was still rumpled from sleeping that morning, having not even bothered to change clothes or tidy up at all, and Snape gave him a very strange look for it. "I don't want to talk out here, though...We'll need to speak privately." He interpreted Severus's silence for assent, and so he led him out of the kitchen and up to his bedroom, where he shut, locked, and placed a silencing charm on the door.
Severus eyed the security measures warily, and he leaned back against the door. He had no problem being casual with his godson, and he offered the slightest smile to the messy boy. "Something we don't want the salt of the earth to hear, Draco?" he inquired, and he watched as Draco pulled out a chair from the small desk in the room and placed himself in it. "Must be either important or illegal..."
"Sectumsempra," Draco stated, and he watched the look on his godfather's face switch from amused to confused. "You found it, but I couldn't find it anywhere. It's fucking brilliant when you're not on the receiving end...So where is it from?" He leaned forward, intensely curious. He knew his godfather would indulge him, and he grinned as Severus obviously thought about it very hard.
"I was in sixth year...I'd snuck a few books from your grandparents' library, I recall, and I found a potion called Sectumsempra Animi, which is as strong or stronger than Amortentia but banned from creation by the Ministry. It was a love potion, so named because it would shred the soul of the victim, and unlike Amortentia, the effect of the love potion lasts until either the giver of the potion falls in love with the victim, which makes it perfect for archnemeses who are just begging to be embarrassed, or until the giver administers a second dose, which acts as an antidote. I liked the thought of shredding," he laughed, and he was pleased that Draco wrinkled his nose and giggled right along, "but I didn't like the idea of a love potion. Sectumsempra is the word whispered over the person to whom the potion is administered immediately after they drink it, and if they have the potion in their system, it will set the potion in their veins. It turns out, the incantation without the potion has the effect you are very familiar with. Endlessly fascinating, I believe, it is that a spell intended for a love potion on its own has such a drastic effect otherwise. It says something of the nature of love potions."
Draco grinned–it was really fascinating that love and destruction were so closely tied. It was like this in more than one potion, he had noticed upon studying love potions for an extra-credit project the year before. "Could you find that book? The one with the potion? I want to see it," he breathed, and he kept on grinning through the odd look Severus was suddenly giving him. "Don't look at me like that...You know how I enjoy studying potions. I've got to keep ahead of the Mudblood and the Weasel, don't I? I'm especially interested in this one, for obvious reasons, I should think."
Severus was troubled, as Draco did not often ask for things like this without an ulterior motive, but he was in the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, and there was only so much damage he could do without someone taking notice. "Fine," he sighed, and he offered the boy a smile as the charms on the door were released. "I'll get it for you by the end of the evening. How's your head?" He had only heard about the incident from Molly that morning, and the Weasley boy received a nasty warning from him before breakfast.
"It's fine...I have a bit of a headache, but other than that, I think I'm all right. Fucking Potter, thinking he owns the place..."
Severus delivered the book as promised that evening before Draco went to bed, and so Draco spent almost all evening in bed with the book, talking to himself. "Ashwinders' eggs, lovage, peppermint, fluxweed, powdered moonstone...This is simple," he whispered, and he found himself thrilled that he had stolen many of the ingredients from the student store cupboard the year before. "All I need are frozen Ashwinders' eggs...Simple enough."
And so, the very next morning, he sent the Apothecary in Diagon Alley two Galleons and a note explaining what he wanted, and would they please send it by express owl and they could keep the change. He was pleased that the eggs arrived the morning after, and, in a very small cauldron he kept hidden in his closet, he began to work on the potion. It was very simple indeed, requiring a minimal number of ingredients that were easy to obtain, and he knew that the only reason this potion would never be made at Hogwarts was because it was banned by the Ministry, and the apothecary would not sell Ashwinders' eggs to students. When he added them to the potion, it released a heavily-perfumed scent that made him lightheaded, and he blinked for a few moments before he added the peppermint stems, which completely changed the nature of the potion. It made it smell like grass with a hint of freshly-dug dirt, and he took a deep whiff of the concoction before he added the rest of the ingredients. They did nothing but change the colour, and he grinned to himself as it brewed.
When he put stoppers into two vials of the caramel-coloured potion, he grinned and stashed them in his bedside table. He waited.
He let it sit for a month, simply because he could not find a perfect situation when he could lure Potter up to his room or get him alone. It was simply atrocious, how desperately Potter clung to his friends, and so Draco waited and waited, as patient as the cat waiting to pounce. Their rivalries did not ease in the time during which the potion lay in wait, and though there were no more serious injuries, there was plenty of yelling. Arthur and Molly worked tirelessly in an attempt to keep a relatively peaceful atmosphere in the house, which they discovered worked perfectly whenever the boys ate, slept, and led their lives at different times of the day. Draco found this extremely inconvenient, and so whenever Arthur and Molly left one afternoon, Draco pocketed his potion and went in search of Harry.
Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place was much bigger than he had ever imagined when he first arrived at the beginning of the summer, and so he began at the front of the house. He could hear Walburga Black praising him lightly as he walked past her portrait, and he smiled at her before moving close. "Seen the Potter prat?" he asked in whisper, and he gave a harsh little laugh as she pointed him towards the Black family library. "Thank you..."
He prowled silently to the library, and he was immensely pleased to find that the door was cracked. He peeked inside–Potter was asleep on the couch, mouth hanging open and one hand gracing the floor with its presence–and gave a nasty sneer before he pushed the door open slowly, so it would not creak. Potter did not stir in the slightest, and Draco was pleased to walk right into the library and kneel over his archnemesis with no effect on the boy's slumber. He waved his wand over his prone body, casting a Partial Body-Bind curse that immobilized Harry from the shoulders down. A wicked grin spread over his face as Harry's eyes shot open, and Draco sat on the couch beside him. "Why Potter, how nice of you to wake up," he breathed, and he grinned at the bewildered look on Harry's face. "Don't bother screaming. We're alone."
"Let me go, you son of a bitch," Harry rasped, voice thick with sleep, and his eyes narrowed as Draco pulled a potion like liquid caramel out of his robes. "What the fuck is tha–" And suddenly, it was in his mouth, warm like single-malt scotch, and he tried to spit it out a moment before Draco slapped a hand over his mouth and held his nose shut.
"Oh no, Potter, this is for you. Swallow...SWALLOW!" he yelled, and he was pleased when Harry complied. The startled look in Harry's eyes was completely priceless as Draco leaned over him, pressing close, and he moved his mouth very close to Harry's ear. "For Sectumsempra," he hissed, and at the second word, Harry's pupils dilated, and Draco released the Body-Bind curse just in time to allow Harry to fall to the floor, doubled over as the potion spread like molten lava through his veins, and Draco sat beside him, one hand on his back. "Breathe...Just breathe, Potter..."
Harry choked and coughed, a string of dark mucous hanging from his lips, and he wiped it shakily away with the back of his hand before he moved to glare nastily at Draco. "What was..." He trailed off at the sight of Draco, knelt beside him with the softest little sneer on his plump, pink lips. They were slightly damp, maybe from sweat, and Harry could feel the hand on his back sending electrical pulses through his body. "You...I..." He was stammering insensibly, and he shut himself up when Draco's sneer seemed to transform into a beautiful, angelic smile, and he lay a hand on Draco's knee. "Hi...You gave me a potion, and..."
Harry slumped into Draco's arms, and Draco struggled to lie him back on the couch, brushing his hair away from his sweaty face, and, wanting to make sure the potion had worked, he waved his wand over his body again. "Ennervate!" he whispered, and he narrowed his eyes as Harry began to stir.
"Mmmn..." Harry stretched his arms out luxuriously, giving a huge yawn and smacking his lips loudly before he opened his brilliant green eyes and immediately locked on Draco. "What are you doing?" he asked, and he found that he could insert no amount of malice into these words. The gentle light from the window seemed to set Draco's hair aflame with heavenly light, and he reached up a shaky hand to brush it back behind Draco's ear. "There. That's better."
Draco's eyes lit up, and he leaned down very close to Harry with a wrinkled nose and a pretty little smile. "Perfect, isn't it?" he whispered in a malicious tone, and when Harry grinned and tilted his chin up, Draco lay a finger across his lips. "No, no...No kisses for Potter. You like how my fingers feel on your arm?" The fervent nod Harry gave in that moment made Draco laugh, and he leaned in close to touch the very tip of his nose to Harry's cheek. "Good...Because that's all you get."
And then, Draco was gone and Harry felt as though the world had ended.
His eyes grew wide, and he sat up, heat engulfing his body, and he shakily pushed back his hair. "Ma-Draco?" he called quietly, and he felt himself jumping off the couch, shaking and gasping for breath. Draco was gone too quickly, should have stayed, should have been there to touch and to kiss and to–
Something was wrong with him. He wracked his brain, trying to remember what happened before he fell asleep, and he panicked. He remembered lying down on the couch, furious that they would leave him alone with Malfoy, and when he woke up, he had never been more in love. It was terribly lonely, terrible...terrible. His heart was hammering against his ribcage, and he reached for the doorknob of the library in a panic. "Oh God..."
He found Draco at the kitchen table, and he tripped over his own large, clumsy feet as he attempted to get to him. When he reached the table, the look of horrible disdain that Draco shot him pierced him to the soul, and he raised his hands to his lips, taking a step back. "Are you angry with me?"
"Inexplicably," Draco hissed, and he rose to his feet, stepping close to Harry and grinning nastily as he became all but putty in his hands when he grabbed his forearms. "I want nothing to do with you, Potter. Ever." And Draco threw Harry's arms to his sides and made a disgusted sound just before he ran from the room, leaving Harry on the floor in a devastated heap.
Draco had never known such power.