Some Kind of Trouble

DaggersBloodPain

Summary: Harry receives a journal from his mother, sent to him by one he least expected. In it he finds the story of the vivacious woman Lily Evans used to be and it give him the strength to follow his heart. Slash and femme-slash. HP/LM, LEP/NBM

Disclaimer:I do not own Harry Potter! Nor do I own any of the songs titles I use in chapter titles. I will give credit to song artist beneath each chapter title.

WARNINGS! This story will contain homosexual content primarily of the lesbian variety with a little gay thrown in for balance. This means Sex between people of the same gender! There will also be mentions of sadomasochism, bondage, and sexual harassment! Language will get dirty and there will be adult concepts other than sex. Pregnancy will also enter this story towards the end.

Chapter One

Like Johnny and June

(Heidi Newfield)

Harry Potter was lazily staring out of his dorm window. The four other boys he had spent his last six years at Hogwarts with were sound asleep, which coincidently was the same state in which the raven-haired wizard wished he could be in. With the moon shining low in the sky and the stars shining near as bright as the moon the grounds of Hogwarts castle were easily viewed as it crept towards four in the morning.

Harry let out another pathetic sigh as he continued his vigil through the night. This was yet one more night where sleep eluded him, his dreams had become so real he shuddered at the very thought of reclaiming his bed. For once in his short life his dreams were not nightmares, much the opposite in point of fact.

His teenage hormones had finally caught up with him and his lusty visions were not quite what he had been expecting. For starters, the person was decidedly male, which gave him a moment's pause, but didn't bother him too much. Secondly, the man was married, which brought all wistful dreams of a happy future to a screeching halt. Third, the man had a son at Hogwarts, who was actually several months older than Harry was. The final nail in the coffin of his wet dream was the fact the man had tried to kill him on several occasions.

He had tried to just push the feelings to the side and ignore it, but that didn't go so well especially since the object of his teenage lust was the new Defense teacher at Hogwarts. Every time he caught sight of long white blond hair or heard the soft tap of the snake headed cane he felt his body react.

Thus Harry was avoiding sleep like the plague, otherwise the man would invade his dreams overwhelm his senses and he would wake up wet with a name on his lips, "Lucius."

When the sun finally peaked over the horizon and it was safe to go down to breakfast, Harry pulled himself from the ledge he had been sitting on and got ready to greet the day, without getting a wink of sleep.

The Great Hall was mostly empty this early in the morning. He hadn't woken any of his friends so Harry ended up wandering in alone. Sitting at his usual spot at the far end of the Gryffindor table he filled a plate with a light breakfast and ate slowly trying to kill time between now and when his friends would arrive.

He did not see a lone owl ghost its way into the hall on silent wings, long before typical morning post time, he only noticed the solitary bird when it landed on his shoulder waiting patiently to be relieved of its burden. The owl was carrying a small package covered in brown paper and carefully sealed with twine. All in all pretty ordinary except Harry hadn't ordered anything, nor had he been told to expect something by one of his friends.

Shrugging at the oddity he absently stroked the owl and gave it a piece of bacon before it flew off, all while he just sat there looking at the package. With a glance to see if the hall was still mostly empty, which it was, he pulled the package closer to himself and carefully untied the twine letting the brown paper fall away to reveal a book of some sort and a letter. Remembering his first year and another unidentified package he opened the letter first.

Dear Harry Potter,

This is a journal left in my possession by a very dear friend of mine. I don't think you will believe that until you have read the journal but it is the truth. I lost the only person I ever truly loved the night you lost your mother and I have thought for many years when the right time would be to give this to you, and now seemed to be that time. I hope you cherish the words on these pages as much as I have and know the words are the truth no matter what you have been told to believe before this.

I have been cold and downright cruel to you in the past, I had no choice, you will understand more when you read this. Please believe me when I say things have changed a great deal since the days written about, but the main point remains the truth. I loved Lily Evans and still do to this day, we were ripped apart by both duty and lies, read and learn all you can.

If you take nothing else from this journal remember to stand strong and follow your heart, tradition and society be damned. Don't take anything for granted and live each moment like it was your last. For my love and I our time is over, for you it is just beginning.

Live free young one, live free,

Narcissa Lyra Black Malfoy

Harry couldn't breathe as he read through the letter over and over again, and each time he read it the words remained the same. Narcissa Malfoy the mother of his rival and the wife of his obsession had just sent him his mother's journal along with the claim that they had been in love.

He nearly passed out at the thought, and unfortunately by the time he had read the letter for the sixth time his fellow Gryffindors were sliding into seats around him, forcing him to cease his panic or face the overly curious stares of his friends. This was personal, and private, just like his dreams he felt like being selfish for once and keeping something for himself.

His mother's journal clutched safely to his chest and Narcissa's letter folded neatly and stashed in a pocket of his robes he crept out of the hall back to Gryffindor tower. Classes be damned this was more important. Thus he stripped down until he was comfortable, cast a locking charm on his curtains, and pulling his covers over himself he settled down to read.

The pages were yellowed and the ink was faded, but that didn't matter because after just a few sentences he was caught, stuck in the brilliant tapestry made from the words of one vivacious Lily Evans.