Draco stared. He knew it wasn't polite but the thought that the small. Malnourished form in front of him was the legendary Harry Potter just defied the logic of his small world. At the young age of four, Draco didn't quite understand what it was about this much smaller boy that made his father so furious. For though Lucius Malfoy looked calm, the way the skin around his nostrils was white with tension spoke more to Draco than any outward display of temper ever could.


When his mother told him later that Harry was his new brother and that it was his job to look out for him, Draco accepted it as fact with the simple grace of a child. When the extent of the damage done to Harry by the Dursleys became evident, Draco accepted it as well. After all, Harry was his brother whom he must protect.


By the time Draco reached the age of eleven he was, if he did say so himself, the most versed eleven year old in the realm of abnormal psychology. This was due to the fact that his brother Harry suffered from a wide and diverse collection of disorders. Draco sometimes wondered if things would be different had his brother been brought into the world as a Malfoy….without having the suffer through the hellish muggle household that had warped his young mind into its current state.


After entering Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy started to hate the world. Yes, his brother had a few bats in his belfry, but for the most part Harry was perfectly sane. True, Harry said everything in an extremely confusing and round about manner, but that sharpened the wits and also made Draco much better at word games. There was no reason that he could see for the students at Hogwarts to mock his brother.

None at all.


The first time Harry crawled into Draco's bed at night, he had thought nothing of it. When the event occurred frequently enough that it became routine, Draco, again, thought very little of it. When, however, he awoke to his slightly younger brother straddling him, completely naked and with an obvious erection, Draco was forced to realize that perhaps he should have taken note earlier.

When Draco, faced with the fully erect penis of his sibling, began to feel aroused himself, he began to think that perhaps Harry's insanity was a bit contagious. And if that was the case, why, he hadn't really a chance had he?


The first time Draco had sex with Harry, he discovered a few things. The first was the Harry liked it rough. Rough to the point that he bled and had long welts all down his sides and back from Draco's carefully filed fingernails. The second was that sex made Harry a bit more calm, a touch more lucid, than he normally was. The complex turns of phrase that usually characterized Harry's speech patterns all but vanished, and the normally violent mood swings mellowed and evened until Draco could actually understand what was setting each swing off, rather than wondering.


When Draco's mother and father found out about his strange relationship with Harry, he knew it wasn't going to be a good thing. The first meeting with a psychologist confirmed that suspicion. Black, vile words like "incest," "sadism and masochism," and other such thing flew thickly through the air on misshapen wings. Draco glowered darkly at the doctor and his parents, absentmindedly fist a pale hand in Harry's raven locks and tugging slightly. Harry just hummed in pleasure at the near painful tension being exerted on his scalp.


When orderlies tried to pull Harry away from Draco after their parents had given up on their sons, Draco became violent. When the orderlies jabbed him with a syringe full of sedatives and fell, powerless, to the floor, Harry cried angry childish tears and became a dead weight in their arms. When the two boys were separated anyway, both refused to eat, drink, or sleep, until finally the hospital allowed them to be together again.

After that, the nurses just turned a blind eye to Harry's shallow cuts and bruises and a deaf ear to the noises that so frequently came from the closed door of the small room.


When Harry died, Draco knew he was soon to follow. Voldemort had some how discovered their location and had come to the private hospital. Draco and Harry, content as they had been in their warm cocoon of pleasure, had not even noticed the snake-like man's presence. Until the green life-ending flash of light had stolen Harry from right in front of him.

Draco had gone completely wild. He wasn't completely certain, though the awed looks people kept casting his way seemed to confirm his suspicion, but he believed that he had killed the dark lord. There had been an awful lot of red in the room when sight had returned to him….


When Narcissa Malfoy buried her only blood offspring, she did not cry. Truly, her little dragon had died two weeks before with his brother and lover Harry. They were buried in the same grave, in the same coffin actually, because Narcissa knew all about loving a sibling. The Black family had more than a few threads of madness running through the proud family tapestry, she just wished that her son had been spared.

As she sighed and turned away from the grave and into the arms of her husband, she remembered a night, long passed, spent in the arms of her elder sister.

Yes, there was certainly a penchant for madness in the Black family.


Years later, when all memory of Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter was lost, two young men stopped and looked a grave marker that time and weeds had not yet worn into nothingness. One bent and carefully wiped away some of the grime so that the two could read the inscription.

"Harry Potter-Malfoy & Draco Malfoy

July 31, 1981- October 31, 1999 17, 1980- November 14, 1999

Though the world did not understand, you had each other and your love."


A/N: ...OO so yeah...i shouldnt try writing when i'm sleep deprived and hyper up on psychology books and Mt. Dew...things get a bit...dark and strange...to say the least.