Summary: Life is cruel, but sometimes, just sometimes, salvation is granted. Harry never asked to be in the spotlight, in the tournament, and he definitely never asked to fall back in time…or to fall in love. Salazar only wants to keep him by his side for as long as possible until time runs out. Salazar/Harry

Pairings: Salazar/Harry

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the original Harry Potter characters, plotlines, or ideas that come from J.K Rowling or the copyrighted Harry Potter series.

A/N: Trial story

..

The Downpour
Chapter 1: Stumbling

..
Empty streets
I follow every breath into the night
The wind so cold
The sun is frozen
The world has lost its light

I carry your picture deep in me
Back to you over 1000 seas
Back to us
Don't you lose your trust and your belief
Just trust me
..

Loneliness wasn't something that was foreign to him. Far from it, it had always been something that he had been able to recognize since childhood. It was an empty feeling, one that always made him feel hollow and drained. He had never wanted to be alone, and all he had ever wanted as a child was to have parents, to have friends, someone to understand and someone that wouldn't leave him. But as the years had past, no such person had appeared. The Dursleys made sure of that. Even at Hogwarts, he had been cautious, only keeping Hermione and Ron close.

He had thought that it would be easier with fewer people to make friends. It just seemed simpler and more logical that he would be able to confide and to form stronger bonds with a few people than with a crowd. He just wanted to have people that he could trust and would be friends with for life. He thought he had gained all that. He was wrong. Ron had left him and had abandoned three years of friendship within a night. It had hurt. It was an echo of all the Dursleys had ever said to him. He was unwanted. And after Ron had separated himself from him and Hermione, it was as though that loneliness had grown larger even with Hermione at his side.

But right now, he couldn't have been more alone.

He had awoken in a lush forest in the midst of a light rainfall. From the overcast sky, he knew it was still day, but for how much longer though, he didn't know.

"Ah!" he hissed in pain, falling forward and landing hard on his stomach.

So much for trying to stand.

He winced, knowing that he'd have a bruise later, if he didn't have one already. A warm sensation trickled down his back, and the fourteen year old knew right away that it was there where the tail of the horntail had collided with him in midair.

"Not going to do that anytime soon," he said, but it came out hoarse and was followed up by violent coughs that had him falling forwards again and the gash on his back screaming out in protest.

Warm tears fell from his eyes, and he didn't stop them. He was alone after all. No one was here to see. Everything just hurt so much. Where was he even? All his life, and more now especially, he didn't have control. He hadn't asked to be placed with the Dursleys, Merlin no. He hadn't asked to be the boy-who-lived, the one who survived a freak accident just to become one instead, and he had definitely not asked to be entered in a tournament that could kill him. No, he hadn't asked for any of it. No matter what Ron and the others said and thought, he hadn't and didn't want any of it. So why didn't any of them understand?

Life was so cruel.

Right when he thought that he was going to be ok, everything self-destructed on him, yanking him back into a nightmare.

Slowly, Harry crept to shelter underneath the branches of the large tree a few feet ahead of him. He could feel the wet mud underneath his fingernails as he dug into it, using as much force as he could muster in order to pull himself towards the shelter. Every movement disturbed his back and with every small inch forward, small spasms of pain emanated from the source of his escaping blood.

Unwilling whimpers escaped his lips at his slow progress.

His tears blurred his vision, easily mixing in with the rain.

He hadn't really seen it coming. One moment, he had been diving towards the golden egg, straddling his firebolt securely, and the next few moments following were remembered with the sensation of a hot intense pain and then he was free falling. He hadn't taken the angry mother's tail into account once she had been airborne. He had only really seen the unguarded nest of eggs, and he had dived.

It was always the small things that threw you off.

It was the Triwizard Tournament.

It was dangerous.

It was deadly.

Harry gasped, weakly clawing at the wet tree bark to get some leverage in order to lean on his side against the tree. He looked around, green eyes shadowed in pain. Where was he? Even if the horntail had whipped him off into the forbidden forest, someone should've come to get him well before he woke up here. He rubbed his eyes roughly and angrily, not wanting anymore tears to escape. Maybe now they'd be happier that he was gone. He was never meant to be a champion after all.

He laughed bitterly, sitting alone. In pain. In the middle of nowhere. All in the rain. And Ron wanted this?

He had always felt so alone and so unwanted. And though he hated feeling so depreciated, he loathed his existence right now. Why did fate hate him so much? Had he perhaps in a previous life angered her or done something to deserve such a life as the one he now lived as Harry Potter?

He could feel that there were cuts where he had roughly grasped the tree. He didn't know if he had ever felt as helpless as he did now. For how long he stayed there, clinging onto the tree and onto consciousness, he didn't know. What he did know, and would always remember, would be the utter and complete relief he had felt when a sound that wasn't rain or wind that was finally registered with his senses.

"Must return…cold, very cold now."

Parseltongue.

But that didn't matter, because now he had communication. He had a distraction from his screaming back.

Harry jolted upright, ignoring the pain as his eyes looked about the clearing for where the hissing was coming from. He didn't care anymore, he only wanted help now, and if it should come from a snake, he didn't care. Screw the wizarding world and its prejudices. He was a parseltongue and he had no obligation to deny a part of who he was just to make them happy. He was fourteen years old, thrown into a situation that he had had no control over whatsoever. He was going to use what he had in order to make it out alive. And then, the wizarding world could just bugger off because he just didn't care anymore.

After all, if they hadn't even bothered to come to get him, it would be up to him to get himself out alive. Again. But this time, his heart clenched, he was totally alone.

He took a deep breath, mustering his strength as he shouted hoarsely, "PLEASE HELP ME!"

Silence resounded in his surroundings and Harry panted, out of breath and still exhausted and in pain. Every second, the unyielding pricking coming from his back was a reminder of his dangerous situation. He struggled to catch his breath, all the while listening desperately for an answering hiss or any noise that could indicate someone or something approaching. Several seconds passed in silence with the exception of the rain's pitter patter and his rough breathing breaking the stillness of the air.

And when he was wondering whether or not he should shout again, there appeared in front of him as if whipped out from under an invisibility cloak, a snake. The snake shimmered seemingly out of nowhere, magical silver eyes studying him intensely as each scale darkened from its first transparent and opaque appearance into a healthy glimmering deep black. The serpent looked to be a good six feet or more in length and had risen itself to Harry's eye length, large eyes curious.

The lithe teen gulped, eyes widening in fright. He clearly saw his reaction reflected in the large glassy eyes of the great serpent that was gliding closer to him.

"Blood," the female voice hissed, her forked tongue recognizing the scent surrounding the teen immediately.

He sniffed, feeling the deep wound more now that it had been vocalized. "Please help me," he pleaded in a whisper. His throat felt so scratchy and sore. Everything just hurt so much, both physically and emotionally. His body, mind and emotions felt all torn up.

He felt so pathetic, not being able to stand and whimpering of all things in the snake language to an unknown serpent that he had met just moments ago.

She had stilled, her forked tongue tasting the air around him. He blinked unsure of what to do as she moved a little closer and her tongue came out again, taking in his scent. Harry was scared to realize that he recognized the emotions coming from the snake from taking in her eyes. She was curious, but more than that, she was almost exuberant with his scent. There was recognition in her eyes.

And that scared him.

She twisted her body around, facing his back, and Harry craned his neck to see that she was observing the large cut, still visible through the wet clothes clinging to his skin, running from his left shoulder down to his lower right side. The blood flow had finally stopped, but Harry was still scared that any immediate movement would open the wound. He stiffened as the snake moved closer, resting her head against his shoulder and, Harry felt his shock grow, nuzzle his cheek in a tender and comforting manner.

"Stay child, I will return."

And then she was gone.

As quickly and as indescribably as she had appeared, she had vanished out of his sight. If not for the imprint upon the wet grass, revealing her path away from him, he would've thought she really had dissipated into the air.

And what was stranger than the snake's entrance and exit was the fact that he now felt comforted and secured. It was as though a small weight were lifted off his shoulders. He gripped the tree bark harder, leaning more of his weight against his left side in order to lessen the strain and pressure on his back. He hoped she would return soon. Never before had he been so grateful for the gift that Voldemort had inadvertently left for him on the night of his parent's murder and his condemnation to the life he has lived thus far. But maybe, his eyes searching through the darkening foliage, maybe things could change now.

He didn't want to please everyone anymore. He was too tired, too torn apart.

He just wanted to be Harry.

He closed his eyes, not fighting the exhaustion that overwhelmed him. He would trust in her. She had no reason to lie or betray him, after all he was still alive and she hadn't eaten or bitten him. Not yet anyway.

"Come back soon."

There was no response to the silent plea.

He leapt into Morpheus' arms, eager to be carried away from the pain and from the darkening world.

..
I know somewhere
We'll find a little place for you and me
It all turned out a different way
Can't feel the pulse in our veins
So weak today
We'll let our heart beat guide us though the dark
Just trust me
..

Strong, muscled legs ran to keep up with the visible serpent ahead of him. He cursed as he was forced to run through bushes where stray thin branches scratched against any exposed skin. The simple black robe he wore were for the better part, ruined, covered in mud and since a few minutes ago, ripped and torn from the rush of the trek that Eris had urgently insisted upon.

That was another thing that he was trying to comprehend while he was being rushed ahead by his familiar. Someone here was hurt? Someone that pleaded to her, his familiar, a serpent, for help? It was disconcerting to acknowledge, but would be even more so if left unchecked. And so here he was, following after Eris to where another Parseltongue was.

But the Slytherin family was dead save him. Their family gift only existed presently with him.

So how was it that another existed if he was the last Slytherin?

As he understood, the Parseltongue ability was only hereditary through the Slytherin family. And the muggles hunting the magical community had already made sure that all members of his family line especially had died, save him. His existence was still an anomaly to them, angering the witch-hunters, but at the same time festering fear in them. Anger and fear together were never a good combination; it usually never reaped anything worth delighting over.

He cursed again when the light rain started to come down in a downpour.

"Eris, are we almost there yet?" he panted, already having run at full speed for a good twenty minutes in order to keep up with the agile and quick snake.

The only answer she gave was to slow down. He let out a sigh of relief, slowing as well.

"Where is he?"

"The smell of blood is dominant a few human paces to your right," she hissed, already gliding over to what was the largest tree in the area.

He stilled as his eyes finally registered the small body hunched over and leaning against the great tree.

A strange spark seemed to hit him, and as he staggered over, the very air seemed to be bursting with magic. Eris had been unusually quiet, and even now as she gently and tenderly nuzzled the small figure, she remained silent. He barely registered that each step he took sunk in the mud, or the way the rain was starting to slow. He could only see the small figure slumped there. So fragile and so small.

And so broken.

His forest green eyes struggled in take in all the blood around the small form as he rushed over to where Eris was waiting. Bending down carefully, his breath caught as he finally saw the porcelain face for the first time. Fair, unblemished skin, long black lashes, finely shaped eyebrows, plump rosy lips and a mop of messy raven hair that Salazar saw was already growing past the young boy's shoulders.

It was like a jolt of energy that ran through him as his own magic flared out at his first contact with this small boy.

This boy...Salazar eyes widened at the realization. This boy whose magic, his magic sang for and in return, was sung for. This boy, whose own magic desperately reached to entangle with Salazar's magic as its master's body continued to weaken with every passing moment. This boy...

Salazar rose, clutching the small lithe teen protectively to his chest. The only reason why he wasn't in full panic yet was because he could feel on the other wizard's skin, the teen's magic spreading a protective-like shield against the weather's elements. The nasty cut that Salazar saw and had noted carefully when lifting the boy had already stopped bleeding, and whilst it was still there, the teen's magic was slowly stabilizing the wound. He would heal faster than a muggle, but with some of his potions and medical creams, the boy would heal faster.

"Eris, will you be making your own way back or will you be apparating with us?" Salazar asked to where his familiar had moved.

He chuckled as he read the disgust from the great serpent's expression at the mention of the wizarding method of transport. She hissed already moving back through the path they had taken to the area, "I will be making my own way back."

She turned to look over at the two again and Salazar paused, anxious to apparate back in order to start with the healing. "Look after the little one," she advised and then her scales went opaque as she moved silently through the bushes that he had trampled through to get there.

Without a sound, he flickered out of the wet clearing and past the wards of his manor into a room. A house elf awaited his arrival, having stayed in the same standing position he had left her in ever since he and Eris had left earlier. She started at once at his arrival.

"Master, what can Birdie do to help?" she wringed her hands anxiously as her large eyes registered the smaller and equally wet form clutched close to her master's strong chest.

Salazar cursed mentally, seeing with the lit candles and from the firelight more of the wounds that decorated the young one's body that he couldn't see in the darkened forest. He silently cast a nonverbal drying spell on the both of them before he gently placed the small fragile body onto the bed.

"Gather my healing potions and creams," he didn't even look at her as she disappeared with a small 'pop,' too busy slowly removing the dirty and bloodied robes that the small boy wore. He cursed, the boy was very young. He summoned a pair of his own trousers before shrinking them down to size and switching them with the muddied pair the boy had with a simple spell.

Gently, he turned the smaller body onto his stomach in order to see the damage on the back more clearly. He grimaced, it was a large cut alright, but at least it was a clean cut and not crisscrossed or jagged. It would at the very least, heal quicker.

Birdie reappeared, healing potions and creams floating in front of her carefully. Salazar reached out and grabbed the blood replenishing potion along with the pain relieving potion to administer first. "Birdie, can you turn him around carefully without putting pressure on his back?"

"Of course master!" the elf said determinedly. She was already focusing to hovering the potions and creams within her master's reach as she stretched a bit more of her elf magic in order to gently turn the small form on the bed around, floating him an inch or two above the bed. Salazar sighed in relief in seeing that and tilted the boy's head gently forwards to administer the pain relieving potion first.

The boy whimpered in protest as the liquid was pour into his mouth, but Salazar gently massaged his throat in order to help it go down. Pained green eyes slowly opened in a haze of confusion as another potion was being administered. Salazar paused momentarily to stare, blinking in astonishment at the clear and brilliant colour that was shades lighter and glossier than his own.

After all the potions Salazar wanted were all given to him, Salazar silently urged the boy to turn onto his stomach. Harry, being too tired to speak, his eyes already falling every few seconds or so, obliged with the stranger's request.

And then Harry screamed in agony as the handsome man above him rubbed a cream onto his back and onto his wound.

"Shhh, shhh," Salazar tried to comfort the small boy as he slowed his movements. He was already being as gentle as he could, but he couldn't magically seal the wound until the cream removed any bacteria or infection that had settled within the wound itself first.

Harry whimpered. Oh god, his back was howling in pain as the cream sent stings and sharp pain along with it when in contact with the cut. The dark haired man continued to gently, but quickly move along his back with the cream, and Harry bit his lips in order to hold in the screams that he wanted to release. His lips bled and he couldn't stop the tears escaping his closed lids, no matter how hard he clenched them shut. Finally it seemed the man above him was satisfied and he took a step back, leaving Harry to pant heavily as his back throbbed in despair.

"We have to bandage your back and let the medical cream do its work. I can magically heal your cut within a few hours then. You just have to hold on until then alright?" Salazar signaled Birdie to take the rest of the healing supplies away.

He turned to see if the youth would have questions. He hadn't heard the boy speak a single word; the only sounds he had heard were whimpers and screams of pain. It hurt and pained him that those were the first sounds he heard escaping the boy's mouth, and hoped that now, the boy would have something to say to replace those painful moments.

He was met with green eyes on a face whose expression was one of mixed confusion and fear. Bandages in hand, he slowly approached the boy wondering why the other wasn't answering his question.

Harry shuffled back in fright, "Don't get any closer!" His words came out in short breathy pants.

Salazar stilled. What language was the boy speaking? As he stared at the small shaking form on the bed, he groaned mentally.

This was going to be a problem.

"We have to bandage your back and let the medical cream do its work. I can magically heal your cut within a few hours then. You just have to hold on until then alright?" Salazar repeated and watched stunned at the boy's response.

Harry jumped back startled, mouth agape in shock and horror at the familiar snake language that came from another human other than him or Voldemort. He breathing became harsher.

Just where in the world was he?

..
We have to go 1000 oceans wide
1000 dark years when time has died
1000 stars are passing by
We have to go 1000 oceans wide
1000 times against an endless tide
Then we'll be free
..

1000 Oceans: Tokio Hotel