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Taking the Dare part 3/4

Thu, 28 May 2009 20:54:29 GMT

Rating: T
Summary: He really should know better than to trust anything created by the twins.
Our Story So Far: After Harry is hit with a magical dare, he finds himself becoming more and more obsessed with Draco Malfoy. What will happen when Draco finds out?
Pairing(s): Drarry
A/N: Part 3/4. Okay, so this story keeps growing. But the next chapter’s going to be the last, I swear! Really! Feel free to throw rotten produce at me if I change (again). Sorry! Weird that I originally meant this to be a short one-shot. I’m going to be working on a couple other pieces for a bit, but I’m certainly not abandoning this one!
Warnings: Slash
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, not me. No money being made here.

Taking the Dare
Chapter 3

Dear Harry,

We’re working as hard as we can to find the counter-charm. Our notes are misplaced, but we should find something soon! Of course, we are busy with the store, but promise every spare minute is spent searching our lab.

Ron really dared you to snog Malfoy? That’s brilliant. Stay strong!

F&G

xxxxx

Dear Ron,

Harry mentioned that he’s obsessed with completing your little dare. That could be a problem. See, the cancellation charm doesn’t actually do anything, because in every test we ran (and tell Hermione that of course we tested the effects of alcohol consumption combined with the charm), an uncompleted dare wore off after an hour. In fact, the only way the charm would get stronger after that would be if you dared him to do something he wanted to do to begin with. So there’s nothing we can do, so please stop sending us owls. And get Harry off our backs! (We couldn’t tell him what we just told you, for obvious reasons.)

F & G

xxxxx

Ron stared at the letter from his brothers in horror. It made sense, it all made sense. Harry hadn’t been acting… well, like Harry for a few days now, and he’d been getting worse. Especially since running out of the Great Hall over breakfast yesterday morning. And now Ron had gotten a letter by emergency owl in the middle of dinner, and Harry had one too…

Oh, Merlin, what does his say? He’ll want to know what mine says! I don’t know what to… Why didn’t he tell me it was getting stronger?

Harry’s head dropped to the table with a rather loud bang. Ron resisted the urge to copy him.

Guess I understand what that’s about, finally. I should tell Hermione, she’s starting to really worry…

Hold up, there’s a thought! I’ll show Hermione Fred and George’s letter! She can help, and we’ll make sure Harry doesn’t do… um… anything, and everything will be fine!

Happy to have a plan, Ron turned to Hermione. He was about to ask her to meet him in the library, alone, when he felt a light tug on the sleeve of his robe.

“Ron?”

Ron tried not to wince at the hesitant voice. “Yeah, Harry?”

“I got a letter from your brothers. Did you?”

Closing his eyes, Ron braced himself to lie to his best friend. “Yeah. They said they’re working on it, and they’ll write when they have a solution.” Crossing his fingers, he asked a question sure to get Harry to drop the subject. “Think I should write to my mum? Y’know, so she can hurry them along, sort of?”

It worked, just like he’d hoped. Harry scowled at him, then went back to staring at the table. After reading his brother’s letter, Ron realized that Harry always stared at the table like that when Malfoy was in the same room. He suppressed a wince, and turned back to Hermione.

“Uh, Hermione, I could use some help with my… um… my Transfiguration essay! Could you come to the library with me after supper?” He hoped Harry wouldn’t want to come along for help, completely forgetting that he could just say he wanted to be alone with his girlfriend.

“Of course! I’d like to go over my essay one more time. Harry, would you—” Ron managed to catch Hermione’s eye and vigorously shook his head to stop her from inviting their friend along. He wasn’t sure whether to be happy or sad that Harry didn’t take any notice whatsoever. “—ah, would you be all right on your own this evening?” Hermione finished awkwardly.

Harry wasn’t paying attention, just muttering to himself. Ron leaned closer to his friend, trying to hear him. He flushed bright red when he started making out the words.

“… stupid soft silky hair… probably smells as good as it looks… Fucking Dra—Malfoy and his sexy lips and ohgoddon’tdothat…” Harry was looking at the Slytherin table, again. His face had paled.

Ron looked over, and saw Malfoy licking a bite of ice cream off a spoon. Who does that? he wondered briefly, then turned back to Harry. Harry, who was sweating lightly and seemed unable to look away from Malfoy as he enjoyed his dessert far too much.

His brothers’ letter fresh in his mind, Ron decided that, unless Hermione had a better idea, he had to keep Harry from acting on the feelings that (no matter what Fred and George thought) couldn’t possible be real. Especially since Malfoy was almost taunting Harry. It was like he knew what was going on! But that was impossible. The only people who knew were Gryffindors, and all of them were unquestionably friends.

Harry was moaning again. He had to do something to distract him, but what…? Ah!

Neville was leaning over them, reaching for a pitcher of pumpkin juice. As the clumsy boy lifted it carefully over their heads, Ron jumped up, managing to knock the pitcher out of Neville’s hands and spilling it over Harry’s head.

Neville immediately started apologizing. Harry didn’t seem to notice, just wiped his face with his napkin and ran from the room, looking mortified. Ron watched him go.

Well, that’s one way to keep things under control.

Neville was still apologizing.

“Neville, shut up. You were supposed to do that.” Ignoring the boy’s indignant huff, he turned to Hermione. “I really need to talk to you, now. Come on.”

Ron grabbed Hermione’s elbow and dragged her after him out of the Great Hall, heading for the most secluded corner of the library and not noticing the blond Slytherin slipping out and heading towards Gryffindor Tower.

xxxxx

Why the hell did he do that?

Harry ran for the Gryffindor dorm, his thoughts for once on something other than Draco. His robes and hair dripped a trail of pumpkin juice behind him.

I know Ron bumped Neville on purpose. Everyone knows to be careful when Neville’s holding liquids! But… why the hell would he do that? And, all right, so I am grateful for the distraction, but…

The distraction. It had come at just the right moment, just when he was about to lose control of himself and launch himself at the Slytherin table. And who would blame him, really? Every time he’d glanced—okay, stared obsessively—at Draco, he’d been doing something seductive with his mouth. Licking his fingers, licking the ice cream, sucking on a Sugar Quill—and that in Potions, no less! It was intolerable! Indecent, even.

So Ron making Neville spill the juice on him…

He knows! He can’t know, he wouldn’t guess and if Hermione had she’d’ve talked to me and not Ron because he’s completely irrational about my Draco and when did I start thinking of him as my Draco oh Merlin I need help!

He stumbled and leaned heavily against the wall. Calm. Must be calm. What do I know? WWHD? Well, first of all she’d be terribly embarrassed that I think “What Would Hermione Do” at all. But she’d make a chart, or a list, or something. So…

I know that Ron made Neville spill the pumpkin juice on me when my Draco was licking his dessert. I’d like to be his dessert. I did not just think that. Harry moaned, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. A portrait of a stuffy-looking wizard across the hall sniffed at his undignified position.

Right, thinking about Ron now. I know that he’d come unglued if he thought I really liked my Draco. I know that he got a letter from Fred and George, but it said what mine said. Unless he lied to me? What did I write to them again?

A familiar panic started to rise in his head. Harry let his head fall back against the stone wall, wincing when he hit it harder than he’d meant to. He hadn’t told them about the part where he actually wanted to kiss Draco, had he?

I might have… I wrote it just after he did that completely wicked thing with his finger, and his tongue, and I am glad that I’m not anywhere near him because I don’t know if I could stop myself right now. If this stupid buzzing would just stop, just for an hour—

A shadow fell over him, interrupting his thoughts. He looked up, and found Draco standing over him with an unreadable expression in his eyes.

xxxxx

Draco pressed himself into a niche behind a statue. Harry had suddenly stopped in the corridor, then slid down the wall to sit on the dirty floor.

It would be much easier to follow him, he mused, if he’d make up his mind as to where he was going!

He couldn’t even bring himself to be annoyed with the other boy. Harry’d been looking so pained and lost over the last two days, and it had seemed to be getting worse.

I probably haven’t been helping much. Draco suppressed a twinge of guilt, remembering how he’d teased Harry over the past few days. Not even teasing. I’ve been seducing him, plain and simple, and an innocent little Gryffindor wouldn’t know what to do with that. Although… Harry’s reactions to him had been a bit beyond what he’d expect. But he couldn’t interpret them as negative.

Harry was sitting on the floor, still as the statue Draco hid behind, but why? His robes were still dripping with juice, shouldn’t he be changing or showering or…

Dammit, picturing naked wet Potter should not make him hard! So what if the Savior of the Wizarding World happened to have sexy tousled hair and bright green eyes and wondrously kissable lips? He was The Boy Who Lived to Make Draco’s Life Hard, and the only reason Draco was following him right now was to try and get a little satisfaction—bad word choice—for all the agony of the past six and a half years.

It wasn’t like he liked Harry, after all. He certainly didn’t get a tingle of pleasure whenever he managed to provoke a reaction. And if he did, it was only because his plan was working.

What plan?

Draco pushed away the tiny voice, reminding it once again that the benefits of seducing Harry were the entire point, and far outweighed any negatives. It’d be nice not being a social pariah outside of the all-too-exclusive “Children of Convicted Death Eaters” club. Having Harry openly friendly towards him would help. A lot. More than he wanted to admit, really. And given how responsive Harry was to the show Draco had been putting on over the last two days, the physical aspects of the relation-seduction should be quite enjoyable.

Of course, it doesn’t hurt that he’s damn easy on the eyes.

He leaned cautiously around the statue. Harry was still sitting on the floor, an orange puddle spreading around him, hugging his knees to his chest. He made a very attractive picture, although it would have been better without the desperate, lost little boy look on his face. Draco was surprised to find that his first instinct was to sit on the floor and wrap the other boy in his arms, kissing the disconsolate look off his face.

It’s just my natural talent for seduction. It doesn’t mean anything at all! And it’s far too soon in the game for physical contact.

The thought of physical contact with Harry was making him hard again. Draco briefly considered finding someone to help relieve the pressure, but Harry’s brilliant green eyes and messy black hair kept floating into his mind.

It’d be a mistake, he finally decided. If it got back to Harry, it’d set my plan back. He’ll never fall for me if he thinks I’m just after a casual fling. And I need him to fall for me.

Draco ducked back behind the statue, hand flying up to cover his mouth. He needed Harry to fall for him? Where the hell did that come from?

Harry wouldn’t go back to being enemies after a casual fling, unless Draco did something to cause it. He knew that! It was one of Harry’s more infuriating traits, that he was nice to almost everyone. It made it impossible to figure out what he was after.

A thud brought his attention back to the huddled boy in the corridor. Harry was rubbing his head, looking utterly despondent. Suddenly, it didn’t matter that it was too soon or that it might mess up his half-formed plans. Harry needed someone, or something, and whatever it was, helping him couldn’t hurt Draco’s cause.

Maybe if I just treat him as usual? Then he’ll have to be strong again. I don’t want to see him like this anymore!

Taking a deep breath, he stepped out from behind the statue and walked over to Harry. And he was just about to say something insulting—he was!—when he was trapped by two luminous, tear-filled emerald eyes.

And he was lost.

Part 2
Part 1
Fanfiction.net reviews

Desperation - Chapter One: Numb

Tue, 26 May 2009 13:41:40 GMT

Rating: T
A/N: Thanks to juliadw for beta-ing this!
Summary: Harry can't stand the thought of losing anyone else after Sirius dies. Draco's world is shattered after Lucius is imprisoned. Can two lost souls help each other heal?
Pairing(s): Drarry
Warnings: Slash (eventually), lack of Draco in this chapter
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, not me. No money being made here.

Chapter One:
Numb

Harry sat silently, staring out the window of his bedroom at number four, Privet Drive. Uncle Vernon’s blustering voice carried up from the kitchen, interspersed with Aunt Petunia’s shrill remarks. Thankfully, Harry didn’t seem to be a topic of discussion today; he could remain in his room, and his family would ignore his existence. Strange, how life could seem so normal when in his world everything was erupting in chaos. And Sirius was gone.

The sunlight streaming into his room was too bright and warm. With a sigh, he pulled down the shade and flung himself on the bed. Hedwig hooted softly from her cage. She looked worried, or as worried as an owl could look. Hard to tell, with her face covered in feathers.

“I’m all right, girl. Just… thinking about Sirius, is all.” He rolled onto his stomach.

I wish I were somewhere else. Away from the Dursleys, just… somewhere I didn’t have to think about them.

I wish I were with Sirius.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Sirius was gone, because of Harry’s recklessness, and they’d never get any real time together. They’d never get to be a real family–

…it’s my fault…

He sighed again, then deliberately pushed his godfather from his mind and picked up a letter from the table next to his bed. An invitation to spend the summer at the Burrow, with the Weasleys. In August, Hermione would join them on their annual trip to Diagon Alley for school supplies. According to the letter, Mr. Weasley would be picking him that evening, and Apparate him out. And of course, he wasn’t to worry about anything; the Order had made sure the Burrow was as safe as it possibly could be. Much safer than staying with the Dursleys—at the Burrow, Harry could be magically protected without worry of Muggles seeing something they shouldn’t. Ron and Ginny were looking forward to seeing him again, Fred and George were going to try to get a bit of time off from their incredibly successful new shop, and Bill was swearing to, at the very least, escort them to King’s Crossing. Harry could almost hear the disgust in Mrs. Weasley’s words when she mentioned that Bill’s fiancée, Fleur, looked forward to seeing him, too.

It really was everything he could hope for. Any other summer, he would have been through the roof, packed and ready to go. But in the whole, chatty letter, they didn’t once ask what he wanted.

And to be perfectly honest, I don’t want to go. Guess that makes me ungrateful…

They’d check up on him, constantly. And all he wanted was to be left alone. If he could just be left alone, he wouldn’t have to feel so much. He could. And if he wasn't attached to people, he’d stop losing the people he cared about. Or, at least it wouldn’t be his fault when someone… left.

He hadn’t bothered answering the letter

With an effort, Harry closed his eyes and focused his thoughts on the ice growing in his chest. It numbed him, insulating him so that he could function. Barely. But without the ice, he was paralyzed in his grief and guilt. So he froze, pushing away the warmth. He deserved the cold, and it was so good not to feel anymore…

Without noticing, Harry slipped into dreams of a frozen wasteland, desolate and barren, empty of all life. Just snow and ice, surrounding him in all directions and so very peaceful. He could disappear here forever…

xxxxx

He woke suddenly, feeling searing heat on his shoulder. Harry yelped and leapt away from the source, then felt foolish when he saw Arthur Weasley’s surprised face.

“Harry, you’re like ice.” The man’s voice was filled with concern. “You shouldn’t fall asleep with the window open like that.” Mr. Weasley looked slightly puzzled. No wonder; it was a remarkably balmy night. There was no reason Harry should have been so cold.

“’M fine,” Harry said. “I’ll just get my things…”

“No need. You looked so tired I didn’t want to disturb you. I’ve already sent all your things ahead. If you’re ready, we can go now,” Mr. Weasley paused, then continued tentatively. “Of course, if you want to say good-bye to your family…” He let the sentence taper off, clearly waiting for a response.

Harry felt the ice starting to crack at the thought of his so-called family. “Yeah, just give me a minute. Should probably tell them I’m going.” Not that they’d notice I’m gone. I’m sure they’ll be glad to be rid of me. He took a steadying breath, summoning the cold to him again. I am ice…

Safely cocooned in the ice, Harry opened the door and went downstairs. His aunt and uncle were in the living room. They fell silent and looked up at him when he drifted into the room. The three stared at each other for a moment.

Harry took a deep breath. “So. I’m going away for the summer.” His voice was cold, emotionless… frozen, just like the rest.

Glaring, Uncle Vernon said, “Be back, will you?”

“Not this summer,” Harry replied evenly. “Not ‘til next summer.”

His uncle just glared at him.

Probably deciding if getting rid of me is worth giving me something I want. Maybe I should tell him I’d rather stay here this year—

“Fine.” Uncle Vernon’s harsh voice interrupted his thoughts. “But don’t you go changing your plans. I don’t want to adjust our plans again to accommodate an ungrateful whelp like you. In fact…”

Harry was up the stairs before his uncle finished. “Let’s go,” he said to Arthur.

Mr. Weasley opened his mouth, then closed it again. He nodded, and asked, “Need anything else?” When Harry just shook his head, Mr. Weasley put his arm around the boy’s shoulders and Apparated them both away.

xxxxx

It’s not so bad, Harry thought a week later. In fact, it’s really nice—if I overlook how I have to freakin’ hide to get a moment’s peace.

At that moment, Harry was hiding. Under his bed. With his school chest pulled between him and the rest of the room, and wrapped in his father’s invisibility cloak. Holding his breath, because Ginny was on her hands and knees, looking right at him.

Another pair of feet entered the room, and he heard Ron ask, “Any sign of him?”

Ginny pushed herself off the ground. “No,” she said. “I can’t find him anywhere.” Her voice rose slightly. “What if… You-Know-Who got him?”

For the briefest moment, Harry felt guilty for making her worry. But—

I didn’t ask to come here. All I want is a little time alone; can’t I even have that? He felt a sob building in his chest, and choked it back. Ice, he had to remember to be ice…

Embraced by the perfect chill, he was able to listen in on his friends again.

“… So you see, there’s no way that You-Know-Who could have gotten past half the Order and the wards Dumbledore set.” Ron sounded unusually sure of himself, and a moment later, Harry learned the reason. “Hermione knows what she’s talking about, yeah? So relax. He’s probably outside. You know Mum’s been after him to get out.”

And that was another problem. Harry really didn’t need Mrs. Weasley badgering him all the time.

So what if I’m not feeling very social? I just lost Sirius! He blinked sudden tears away, listening to Ron and Ginny’s footsteps heading downstairs. Only when he was sure they were gone could he relax, and let the tears fall.

xxxxx

He’d managed to hide the rest of the day, although it had meant going without supper. Not that it was so hard to do—he’d had plenty of practice living with the Dursleys, after all. Besides, mealtimes were the hardest. The whole family gathered around the table, talking and laughing, and it was just too much to deal with. And Mrs. Weasley never failed to pile his plate with food, telling him he was going to waste away…

Every day, he hid for longer and longer periods. Every night, he lay awake in bed, shivering with the desire to run away. To go somewhere where the people weren’t sunshine and cheer, where he didn’t have someone constantly trying to brighten his mood. Somewhere he could harden his shield of ice, so it wouldn’t melt and leave him open. So he wouldn’t endanger anyone else by rushing foolishly in.

Ron was mumbling in his sleep again. Harry ignored him, forcing himself to push his friend out of his mind. For the hundredth time that day he pictured ice, growing and filling the void left behind when Sirius vanished. He let the cold ease him to sleep, back to the familiar dream of snow.

xxxxx

Harry stared at the letter he had just received, hands trembling.

Dear Harry,

I would like to express my sincere wish that you are having a peaceful, if not happy, birthday. I know that the events of the last year have been difficult, and I know also that this coming year will hold still more challenges. I am, however, confident that you can overcome those challenges with your usual proficiency.

I will visit you later today, as there is a matter of some delicacy regarding Sirius’ legacy that I must discuss with you in person.

I am most sincerely yours,
Albus Dumbledore

Harry couldn’t think, could hardly breathe, through the haze of rage. How could Dumbledore even think about Sirius’ legacy? Didn’t he know that Sirius would come back?

He will come back, I’ll find him and help him come back… Harry’s thoughts swirled dizzyingly through his mind, flashing by too quickly for him to catch more than the barest essence: he refused to give up on Sirius. Even if everybody else had.

Harry struggled to push down the emotions that threatened to engulf him, fought to regain the wintery calm. After what seemed like hours, he managed to wrap his thoughts in a snowy blanket once more. It almost smothered the frantic voice that begged not to be left alone again.

xxxxx

Dumbledore arrived at the Burrow at precisely half past six that evening. Mrs. Weasley had been cooking all day and was just about to cut into an extravagant cake when a slight pop announced the headmaster’s arrival. When he came into the house, Harry felt his earlier rage stirring sluggishly inside him, then fade away, defeated by the inner cold.

Twinkling eyes surveyed the scene, and came to rest on Harry. He felt himself pulling away from the sympathy and sorrow; it threatened to melt the ice that held everything in.

“Harry, my dear boy, how are you?”

“I—”

“How thoughtless of me.” Dumbledore shook his head. “I expect that question is far more difficult to answer than anything you’ve been asked in class. Molly, I beg your forgiveness, but I must speak with Harry in private.”

“Of course, Albus. Harry, show the headmaster up to your room, there’s a dear. You will be staying for cake?”

“If there’s time, Molly. After you, Harry.”

Harry silently led Dumbledore up the stairs to the room he shared with Ron.

Dumbledore looked around the room, eyes missing nothing, making small sounds of approval. Pulling out his wand, he straightened the blankets on the beds, then perched on Ron’s and waved a hand towards Harry’s bed. “Please, sit down.”

They sat in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes, until Dumbledore sighed.

“Harry, there are a great many things I would change about the last year. A great many… Unfortunately, I cannot. It would be impossible to predict the effect on the future… You do understand me, I hope?”

Harry nodded, determined not to make this any easier for Dumbledore. It’s not like third year, there are too many mistakes, and… Hermione already said Timeturners won’t go back that far.

Dumbledore was clearly waiting for a response.

“With respect, sir,” Harry said, finally, “I said everything I care to last May, in your office.” A jolt of satisfaction ran through him when Dumbledore winced at the reminder. “I don’t really see why I should talk about… what happened, again—”

“Sirius left you everything, Harry. His vaults, his house… Everything. And—forgive me, my boy—some of these items are of great importance to the Order.”

Of course. It’s important to the Order, so I have to deal with it, whether I want to or not. A wave of sadness rose inside him, and he let it wash over his mind. Dumbledore, at least, wouldn’t be trying to cheer him. Bet Lupin wouldn’t, either. I wish he hadn’t gone to the werewolves; I’d rather be with him this summer. He’d understand, about Sirius. Anywhere would be better than… Hold on, there’s a thought!

“I want to go there.”

“Harry?”

“For the rest of the summer. I want to stay in Sir… in my house. It is my house, isn’t it?”

“I… suppose, if Molly or Arthur go with—”

“No. I want to go on my own. Besides, it’s Order headquarters, right? Not like I won’t have supervision.”

“It can’t be—”

“I know it can’t be home. It’s Sirius’ home. But you say it’s mine, now, and I want to stay there. Just for the summer. Just visiting, right?”

Dumbledore sighed. “And… the Order can still use the house? Even if you don’t agree completely with what we’re doing?”

Don’t agree… Why wouldn’t I agree with something that could stop Voldemort? “I’ll stay out of the way, I promise. You won’t even know I’m there.”

“Very well. I will inform Molly that you’ll be joining me when I leave. Pack up, say your goodbyes.” He paused a moment, then continued. “Please, Harry, talk to us. If not me, then someone else. We worry about you.”

Harry only half heard him. A pressure he hadn’t even noticed was lightening inside, and all he could think was finally, finally, he’d have freedom to do what he wanted. And the Black library to help. And maybe he could finally find a way to get Sirius back.

Instant crack fic -- just add water!

Mon, 18 May 2009 22:40:41 GMT

Okay, so go HERE and paste the address of whatever fic you like into the box. Then click the button. I like Redneck, because it changes some names (George became Jedidiah and Ronald turned into Chattanooga) and uses the phrase "Fry mah hide!"

Yes, I did it to my own fics. And it's hilarious.

Taking the Dare part 2/4

Mon, 18 May 2009 01:58:00 GMT

Rating: T
Summary: He really should know better than to trust anything created by the twins.
Our Story So Far: During a night of drunken fun, Harry got hit with a magical dare—he must snog Malfoy. Unfortunately, the counterspell was lost in a tragic Neville-related accident! How will he ever survive? (insert dramatic music here)
Pairing(s): Drarry
A/N: So this is the first part of Part 2. Confusing? I guess. But the second part is still being tweaked. I know where the boys are heading, but they're not cooperating with me! Anyways, enjoy!
Warnings: Slash
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, not me. No money being made here.

Taking the Dare
Chapter 2

Two days later, Harry was practically crawling up the walls. He was tired of fighting against the urge to shove Draco—dammit, Malfoy—up against the closest wall, tired of how he shivered whenever Malfoy was close, tired of imagining how silky that blond hair would feel when he—

No! Bad Harry, very bad.

He groaned, and hit his head on the table in front of him. After two days, hardly any of the Gryffindors were surprised when he did this. People had managed to link his new habit to Malfoy—probably shouldn’t keep muttering his name all the time—but the consensus in the school seemed to be that Harry was worried over some Slytherin plot

Sighing, Harry lifted his head from the table, absently looking across the Hall at the Slytherins.

Mistake. Note to self—don’t look at Dra—Malfoy when we have anything with syrup for breakfast. I should look away. I will! I can…

His thought slipped away as he watched Draco take a bite of pancake, tongue innocently darting out to catch a bit of syrup before it could drip on his robes.

Harry whimpered softly, drawing a concerned look from Hermione. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, glad for once for the extra space he had in Dudley’s old cloths.

“All right there, Harry?”

“Fine.” Harry tried to smile at Ron. From the look on his friend’s face, he’d failed miserably.

At least my voice didn’t crack this time. He scowled at his untouched breakfast. So far, he’d managed to convince Ron that the effects of the game were just an irritating constant, but that wouldn’t keep working for long. Even if Ron didn’t realize that Harry’s reactions went beyond annoyance, Hermione would. She already looked suspicious, but…

As long as she doesn’t say anything to me or Ron, it’ll be fine.

Besides, he couldn’t tell them. If they knew that that stupid game had turned Ron’s dare into an obsession, it’d be a disaster.

Hermione would say it’s dangerous—well, yeah, she’d be right. But she’d probably owl Ron’s mom, like she threatened to do in fifth year, and then Fred and George would get in trouble. And—Harry felt his face pale as a horrible thought occurred to him—she’d blame Ron for what’s happened to me! She’d send him a Howler, and I just know she’d say what the dare was. I can just hear it… “Ronald Weasley, how dare you tell Harry to… to snog Draco Malfoy? And under a compulsion charm!” Screamed through the Great Hall, in front of Draco and everyone…

Harry groaned loudly, letting his head fall back to the table. He tried to be comforted by the fact that no one asked him what was wrong, then remembered that most of his house just thought he was slowly losing his mind. He thought he was losing his mind.

Maybe I should write to Fred and George again? I’m not sure how much of this I can take.

He raised his head, eyes drawn once more to the Slytherin table. Draco was swirling a finger through the syrup on his plate. As Harry watched, the blond boy brought his finger to his lips, licking it delicately and then sucking the tip into his perfect, perfect mouth…

“Oh, bloody hell!” Harry leapt to his feet. He looked around at the sudden silence in the room. He blushed. Didn’t mean to say that out loud. “I, uh… Ihavetomailaletter,” he muttered, then fled the room.

xxxxx

Dear Fred and George,

If you guys don’t tell me how to get this STUPID dare off me, I swear I will NEVER talk to you again. And you can forget about me endorsing any of your products. And how could you think making an incomplete dare into a total OBSESSION would be a good idea? Did you consider, for one second, that your idiot brother would be stupid enough to dare me to SNOG MALFOY? I’m going crazy here!!!

Harry

xxxxx

Draco wiped his hand on his napkin, frowning thoughtfully.

This pretty much confirms it. Potter’s… lusting for me. Wonder why Weasel and the mudblood haven’t figured it out yet?

Of course, Potter’s friends didn’t matter in the least. What did matter was Potter. Potter lusting for Draco. And how Draco could use that to his advantage.

Obviously, it would do my social standing some good to be seen with the Golden Boy. Seen as a friend, not a mortal enemy. Wouldn’t be necessary if Father hadn’t shackled himself to a madman, but there’s nothing I can do about that.

“Draco? Did you hear me, darling?”

Draco was jerked back to the present by Pansy’s voice. That’s another advantage—dating Potter would get Pansy off me. Although I’d have to tolerate his insipid friends. Even trade? Almost… I think Pansy’s a little worse than those two.

“Sorry. I was thinking about something. What did you say?”

“I said, what do you think is up with Potter lately? He’s acting weirder than ever.”

“Mmph.” Draco tried to return to his thoughts, but Pansy was still nattering away in his ear.

“I’m starting to think it has something to do with you… I only ever see him acting weird around you.”

For some reason, the idea that Pansy might figure it out annoyed Draco. “Did you ever think that you only see him acting weird around me because you only see him when you’re hanging around me? It’s not like our houses mix, Pansy, dear,” he said, voice dripping with disdain.

Apparently, she hadn’t noticed his displeasure.

“You’re right, darling. I think I may have to start observing Potter a bit more. I can get some of the third-years to keep an eye on him when—”

“You will do no such thing!” Draco’s command came out a bit more sharply than he intended. Carefully, he lowered his voice to the slow, threatening drawl that got absolute obedience from his house. “Anything relating to Potter goes through me, Pansy. He’s too popular at the moment for any sort of move against him. Is that clear?”

She was looking at him speculatively. He narrowed his eyes threateningly.

Finally, she waved her hand dismissively. “Whatever. I suppose I should be concentrating on studying for the NEWTs, anyway.”

With a last glare in the girl’s direction, Draco settled back to avoiding thinking about why he was feeling protective towards Harry Potter.

Part 3
Part 1
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Heavenly James - Chapter One

Tue, 05 May 2009 06:29:08 GMT

Rating: T
Summary: James can't move on until he completes one final task, but it takes a twist he'd never expected.
Pairing(s): Draco/Harry, little bit of James/Draco (not yet, obvs)
A/N: A random plot bunny hopped through my head… Set after GoF, not OotP compliant. And, look… it’s going to be DracoXHarry eventually, but this chapter… well, I gotta set up the concept, right? It’ll work out, though. I promise!
Warnings: Slash (in later chapters)
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, not me. No money being made here.

Heavenly James
Chapter One

James sighed. In the fourteen years since Voldemort had killed him, he’d ridden the Phantom Knight Bus all over the United Kingdom, and he was bored.

What’s the point of an afterlife if there’s nothing to do? No Lily, can’t even look in on Harry… At least Dumbledore told me that Harry lived. At least I know my death meant something.

It wasn’t like he was alone on the bus. Wizards and witches from all different times were stuck on the bus, careening from Glasgow to Cardiff to London, picking up souls and waiting for a chance to prove they were ready to move on. The first couple years, James had tried talking to the other passengers, but he’d gradually fallen into the same apathy the rest suffered from.

Harry should be starting his fifth year at Hogwarts. I hope it’s easier than his last…

That had been a surprise. The bus had been making a pick-up in Bath, and James had suddenly found himself pulled to a graveyard, squeezed through a wand, and face-to-face with his son, and Lily, and they were beautiful but Voldemort was there and there was just no time…

Somehow he’d known what had happened, knew what to say to Harry, and he and Lily had given everything they had to once again protect their son from the Dark Lord. And while there was nothing he wouldn’t give his son, seeing Harry for that one brief moment made the tedium of the Phantom Knight Bus so much harder to endure.

A subtle shift in the tone of the engine was all the warning they got, but after so many years—centuries, in some cases—the passengers knew to brace themselves for a stop.

Wonder where we are this time? James looked out the window, frowning at the vaguely familiar town. The Three Broomsticks, Honeyduke’s, Zonko’s… this is Hogsmeade! It can’t be… not Harry! Anyone but Harry…

He started pushing his way towards the front of the bus, ignoring the protests from a wizard in plate armor and a witch with a poodle appliqué running around her wide-skirted robes. When he got to the front, he found the driver—what was his name?—deep in conversation with Albus Dumbledore.

“I knew he wouldn’t be with us too long. Work this gig as long as I have, you get a feel for people. Why, just last June, he went and disappeared right off the Bus! Came back with some story about that dark wizard what killed him, and seeing his son again, and I knew right then that he’d be sent off soon.”

“Yes, yes. I am very happy to be able to bring him an assignment, especially after he saw his wife again.”

“Oh, yes, and hasn’t he been missing her every day? Yes, it’s the ones with someone waiting for them in Uptown that get their assignments first. Oh, and here he is—James! James Potter, Albus here has great news for you! Great, wonderful news, and—”

“Yes, Michael, and I know how busy you are,” Dumbledore said, placing his hand behind James’ back and pushing him gently towards the exit. “I wouldn’t want to take up any more of your time; I’m sure you must be dreadfully behind.”

He was smiling at the driver as he stepped out of the bus, and Michael’s reply was abruptly cut off as the door closed and the bus sped off, leaving James standing in the middle of Hogsmeade with Albus.

The old wizard looked at him, eyes twinkling as ever and smiling. James looked back, getting more and more agitated while he waited for Dumbledore to tell him what was up.

“My boy,” Dumbledore said finally. “My dear, dear boy.”

He fell silent, and James shifted from one foot to the other while he waited for the old man to continue.

“My dear James, it is so very good to see you once again. Of course you saw Harry only a few months ago, so you must know how he takes after you…” The headmaster’s voice trailed off, apparently waiting for some kind of acknowledgement.

“I saw him. He was fighting Voldemort before he turned fifteen! What are you thinking, putting my Harry in that sort of danger?” Able to vent his anger at the man who should have protected his son, James found it hard to stop once he’d begun. “How could you let him come so close to dying? It was luck; pure, random chance that Harry survived that day! How often have you let danger that close to my son? Why haven’t you protected him better—and please, tell me Sirius has said something—”

“Why would Sirius have said anything?” Dumbledore interrupted gently.

“He’s Harry’s godfather; Harry should be with him…” He stopped, confused at the look of apology in Dumbledore’s eyes.

“I’m afraid that it was simply not possible for Harry to live with Sirius Black. Not only was Black incarcerated in Azkaban until he escaped when Harry was thirteen, but the blood sacrifice Lily gave ensures Harry’s protection only so long as he considers his home to be with her kin. Harry has been living with Petunia, and so long as he does Voldemort will be unable to kill him. It has been for his protection, James.”

James tried to process the information, but… each new piece was more terrible than the last! Sirius was an escaped convict; Harry was with Lily’s horrid sister…

“Okay. I sort of get why you’d put Harry with Tuney. I don’t like it, but I sort of get it. But what could Sirius have done to get sent to Azkaban? And how did he escape? And—”

“I know you have questions. I will endeavor to answer all of them. But first… You have been selected as being uniquely qualified for a very special and important assignment. It will help Harry, albeit indirectly, but you should not have any contact with Harry. You will be able to see him, but you must understand this, James—you cannot let him know that you’re here. I know it will be hard—”

“Hard? To be near Harry, and not be able to tell him that I love him? He’s my son, Dumbledore… Could you come up with a crueler fate?”

“Please, James—you will be helping Harry, and you will at least be able to see him. Will you let me tell you about this assignment, or shall I call the Phantom Bus back, and let you wait for your next chance to move Uptown? Of course, there’s no telling when that will be…”

Damn him! James felt trapped, wanting to argue with Dumbledore, bargain for a chance to talk with his son, and desperate not to lose what he was being given. In the end, there was only one choice he could make.

“Fine. Tell me about this assignment, and I’ll decide if it’s really worth it.” It’ll be worth it… anything would be worth it to be able to watch over Harry.

Dumbledore’s eyes were twinkling again, the corners crinkled with his smile. “Good. Very good, my boy. Well.

“As you must know, having seen Voldemort once again risen to power, the Death Eaters have been regrouping. They are, of course, anxious to strengthen their numbers, and many of them have children around Harry’s age. One boy, in particular, has a great deal of influence with his classmates. If he were to turn down the… ‘opportunity,’ shall we say, I believe many of his friends would follow suit.

“We would like you to prevent this boy from becoming a Death Eater.”

“Me? Well, I might… Wait. Who is this boy, and how exactly would I prevent him from following in his parents’ footsteps?”

“It would, of course, be entirely up to you to work out the details. Indeed, if I knew how to prevent him from joining, we would hardly need your help. Naturally, you would not be allowed to show yourself to anyone else, but I’m sure you will come up with something. You’ve always been a bright boy, James.” The old wizard was twinkling more than ever.

James felt himself start to puff up at the compliments, then forced himself to ignore the praise in favor of answers. “I’m not agreeing to do this until you tell me who I’m supposed to be helping. And who’s on our side—you must have the Order back together again? I’ll need to know everything, so I know who my kid can trust.”

“Of course, of course. And yes, the Order is active once more. I’m the Secret Keeper for our headquarters—it’s number twelve, Grimmauld Place, and you must only use that information in extreme emergencies. Sirius is there, by the way. He was completely innocent of the crime he was accused of, and it’s really the safest place for him right now. Lupin’s with us, and Moody. Shacklebolt. And a spy in Voldemort’s camp—it’s how we know that at the end of this year, many of the students here will be offered a chance to join Voldemort. They will be proving their worthiness over the next year, so—”

“So I’ll have to work fast. I get it, Dumbledore. It’s not all that different than what Lily and I were doing in our seventh year, anyway. Just tell me who I’m supposed to be influencing—”

“I was getting to that, James. I would have thought you’d learn some patience in the last fourteen years.” Dumbledore looked at him reproachfully, clearly waiting for something…

Oh, bloody… fine. “I’m sorry, sir. I won’t interrupt you again.”

“Good. Very good. Where was I? Ah, yes! Our spy is your charge’s godfather, so it is important for you to know his identity. It is imperative that you do not endanger his cover—he’s been able to warn us of many plots against Harry, and has saved Harry’s life more than once. Severus Snape has proven himself invaluable—”

“Severus?” James tried not to interrupt, but couldn’t help himself. Of all the people to be grateful to, to have to help, to work with (indirectly, but still...), why did it have to be Snivellus?

“James. He risks much for our cause, and he has protected Harry to the best of his abilities. You must let go of your schoolboy grudges.”

“Fine,” James said, holding back his sneer. “He’s keeping Harry safe, I have no problem with him. But who would ever make him a godfather?”

“The Malfoys. I need you to keep their son from joining the Dark Lord next summer. James Potter, will you accept this task, and all responsibilities relating to it?”

The words had the weight of ceremony, and James couldn’t help wincing as he gave the answer dictated by tradition:

“I accept the task offered me, freely and by my own will. I swear by my magic and my love to carry it out, or perish in the attempt.”

“Then, James Potter, you are bound to this. If Draco Malfoy has not become a Death Eater by his eighteenth year, your debt will be discharged, and you will be free.”

James closed his eyes, feeling the powerful magic bond settling into his soul. It seemed heavier than it should—probably because I’m just a soul, not a whole person—and weighed him down. He had to lighten it…

“Dumbledore?” He kept his voice serious, aware of the deep magic taking up residence in the depths of his soul.

“Yes, James?”

“How can I perish in the attempt? I’m already dead.”

James watched the headmaster closely. Dumbledore’s eyes were closed, and he seemed to be struggling to breathe. Finally, his eyes opened. “Just go find Draco. Don’t fail me, James.”

James smiled, and started walking towards Hogwarts. He’d find this Draco Malfoy, and soon… but not before he’d had a chance to see Harry!

xxxxx

As luck would have it, James found Harry and his charge in the same room.

Potions. Disgusting. And Sniv—Severus is teaching it. Git.

The favoritism was obvious. Why didn’t Dumbledore stop it? First, Malfoy—should try to think of him as Draco; I have to be nice to the little brat—would hiss insults at Harry, at his housemates, at his friends, and then finally Draco would insult Harry’s parents—what did Lily ever do to him? What did I ever do to him?—and then Harry would finally snap. His whisper of “Shut up, Malfoy,” was of course noticed by Snape, who had been deaf to Draco’s taunts, and Gryffindor would lose points. By the time class was half over, James was shocked to see his house down by fifty points, and Harry in detention for the week. All right, that detention was deserved. Harry shouldn’t have shouted at his teacher, no matter how unprofessional and grudge-holding that greasy git was being. Slytherin, on the other hand, was up twenty points. If it weren’t for the task James had been set, he’d have set to work haunting Snape, and maybe all the Slytherins, in retaliation for their treatment of his son.

Suppose that would be counter-productive, he thought, floating near the exit as far away from the fumes as he could get. The class was making a particularly noxious potion, and while Lily would have known exactly what it was, James was completely lost. I guess I should try to observe for a bit—get a feel for how much work keeping Draco good will be. If I hadn’t promised Dumbledore, I’d give up right now.

It seemed like an impossible task. The child was whiny, spoilt, and had lived under the influence of Lucius Malfoy for fifteen years. But, if Dumbledore thought he could be saved, there had to be a way.

Couldn’t give me a hint, though. Oh, no, that would make things easy. And—hey, now, what’s this?

James shot to Draco’s side, where the blond boy was shooting a rather curious look over at Harry. Harry was ignoring him in favor of completing his potion with help from a witch with rather bushy brown hair, and talking and laughing with a couple boys at the table behind his. And the look on Draco’s face was… almost longing. Painful, really. Like a starving man looking at a feast that he couldn’t partake of…

James felt an idea bubbling up inside him. He’d felt it before, when he’d known how to help Harry in the graveyard the previous spring. And just as then, he knew what was happening, and what he would have to do.

Draco wants to be part of that. He just doesn’t know how.

I have to make Harry his friend.

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Taking the Dare part 1/4

Tue, 28 Apr 2009 16:13:37 GMT

Rating: T
Summary: He really should know better than to trust anything created by the twins.
Pairing(s): Drarry
A/N: Things you should know... hmm. Set in the seventh year, choosing to write as if Voldemort was defeated over the summer. Part 1 of 3, wanted to get it up before I go on vacation. Likely no update for a couple weeks. Review, if you like, let me know if there's anything you really want to see in part 2!
Warnings: Slash
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, not me. No money being made here.

Taking the Dare
Chapter 1

How'd I get into this? Why don't I ever remember that Fred and George versions of games are a bad idea? Harry pushed his eggs around on his plate. His head ached, his skin was crawling, and Seamus had't been awake to hand out hangover potions that morning. The eggs were making him nauseous. Harry pushed the plate away with a groan.

He looked up and down the table. Ron looked sicker than Harry felt--good, he's the one who brought the firewhiskey--and Neville looked about ready to pass out in his porridge. Dean hadn't been in the Great Hall when Harry stumbled down to breakfast, which seemed strange, since he hadn't been in his bed or the common room. Hermione was giving them her Prefect glare of disapproval, when she deigned to look at them at all. The first-years were entirely too cheerful... If I were in Slytherin, I'd hex them all.

It wasn't really that he minded the hangover. He'd earned it, and it had been fun. It was just... He'd agreed to the game, and then Seamus brought out a garish green and teal box, covered in flashing text. "Truth or Dare?" it said, then flashed to a new phrase. "How honest are your friends? How daring can you be? Find out--or suffer the consequences!"

They'd laughed, and Seamus said he'd only gotten it because Fred and George wanted a "field test." And it didn't seem so bad--it was just a charmed crystal globe, and came with a guarantee that no answer or action would be forced. They'd even tested it first, lying in response to a question and then howling with laughter when Ron turned bright purple with the word "liar" scrawled in red across his face. The effect disappeared after Ron admitted that yes, he'd slept with Hermione. And when Dean refused to accept a dare, he said it just felt like ants crawling over his skin and a buzzing in his head until he leaned over and pecked Harry on the lips. There was even a canceling charm, clearly marked and labeled "In Case of Emergency."

Harry laughed bitterly, and immediately regretted it as his head exploded with even more pain. Like that stupid charm does me any good now. Stupid, stupid, stupid...

If they hadn't lost that spell, everything would have been fine. The second Ron had given him the dare, he'd paled and taken it back, but Harry's skin had already started to prickle. Dean had just collapsed laughing, Seamus had stared at Ron (eyes not quite focusing), and Neville had lunged for the box, mumbling about "don't worry, Harry, I'll fix this." Which would have been great, really, but drunken Neville was even clumsier, and he'd knocked the box over, spilling the contents into the fireplace. And Harry had watching his salvation turn to ash.

I just have to hold out for a couple days. Just a couple days of torture.

Of course they'd immediately written a note to Fred, explaining what had happened. And in the morning, when Harry and Ron couldn't figure out what they'd written, they'd sent a follow-up to George with Hedwig. Hopefully, receiving two letters almost at the same time would get the twins to actually read it, and answer quickly. It wasn't unusual for them to leave letters from their brother unanswered for weeks...

They'll answer, they have to answer... I'm their primary investor! They have to tell us how to undo this!

"Harry..."

Harry looked up at Ron's whimper. I'm not talking to him... How could he make that dare, even as a joke?

"Harry, I'm sorry... I wasn't thinking... Please? Say something?"

On the other hand, they are his brothers. They might send the charm to him. Harry sighed. And he really didn't mean it.

"It's okay, Ron," he managed to grit out. "My head's just aching, and the crawling skin thing is really annoying at this point. Couldn't you have dared me to steal something from Snape, if you wanted me dead so bad?"

Hermione was edging towards them, trying not to look curious. Harry tried not to notice, tried to keep his focus on talking to Ron. Which was hard enough, with the bees in his head and the ants on his skin and...

"Maybe I should just do it," he mused.

Ron's face went white, making his freckles stand out even more. "You can't, Harry, you just... can't."

"He can't what?"

Huh. Guess finding out what happened is more important than disapproving. Should ask what she thinks I should do... Wait, I know what she'll say. "Oh, Harry, how could you be so irresponsible? And Ron, why would you think anything your brothers sent was a good idea?"

And then we'll have to tell her about the drinking, and she'll get even worse. And Ron will be in disgrace, and I'll feel worse than I do, and I'll still be about to jump out of my skin because of this damn itch!

"Gah! All right, I give!" Ron and Hermione looked at him in surprise. "We got pissed, and tried a prototype of a game Fred and George sent, and yes it was stupid and no we shouldn't have been drinking and yes Ron's an idiot but that doesn't change the fact that if I don't snog Malfoy I'm going to go fucking insane so could you stop lecturing and just help me?"

His friends stared at him, looking vaguely frightened. Finally, Hermione put her hand hesitantly on Harry's arm.

"Er... I haven't lectured... I mean, I knew you were drinking last night, but what's this about Fred and George and of course I'll help you, but... why do you have to snog Malfoy? I didn't even think you liked him."

Oh... Great, this is just great. I'm giving myself Hermione lectures now. Harry felt his composure slip completely away as Ron started to explain the previous night to Hermione. The two kept glancing over at him with worried expressions, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He just stared over at the Slytherin table, where a blond boy was smirking at his friends, and wondered if it would really be so bad to give in to the buzzing need in his head.

Part 2
Part 3
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Wishing

Tue, 21 Apr 2009 03:52:20 GMT

Rating: M
Pairings: Drarry
Warnings: Slashy goodness
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, not me.

Wishing

Emerald eyes, alabaster skin, glowing softly golden in the light of a hundred candles. Soft sighs and whispered encouragement, muscles straining beneath his hands, the taste of salt on glistening skin. Soft, black hair tickling his chest as the hungry mouth sucks roughly at his nipple. Strong hands, fingers almost bruising, holding his hips steady, a matching hardness pressed against his and moving with excruciating control as he tried to buck against his tormentor. Teeth nibbling gently at his neck. Yearning, reaching, almost there...

Draco woke suddenly, as always, shuddering with his climax. Dreaming of what he could never have.

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