FIC: UP THE ROAD, H/D 7/?
Title: Up The Road
Author: malfoil
Pairing: H/D
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: JK owns everything in here pretty much.
A/N: This is chapter seven. I hope you like it!
The day passed quickly. Harry didn't have any classes with Draco which only served to make him even more nervous about the next night, when he would begin his new training. He had no idea whatsoever what such learning would encompass, if it would be painful, or if Dumbledore really knew what was going on. His palms felt warm, too warm, all day long and he'd snapped at both Ron and Hermione more times than he could count. They'd both seemed surprised at his attitude, but there was nothing he could do, no explanation he could give.
Already he was beginning to feel the changes within himself. He knew he wasn't doing this just for himself. As fast as everything seemed to be occuring in his life, change-wise, he just couldn't stop thinking about the pale face, the scowling grey eyes and the long, manicured hands that fascinated him. To be fair, more and more of Draco was beginning to fascinate him. He felt somewhat foolish for all his giddiness, but it was the most alive he'd felt in a while. He could only hope that whatever Snape's training would be, that it wouldn't take that feeling away.
He may not have loved Draco just yet, but he cared for him. He could see that Draco, in his own way, was beginning to come around. Harry wasn't sure if the blonde actually cared for him or if it was just a mind game, or a test of some sort, but he was going to make an effort to find out. Rubbing up against one another was an act almost any student could enjoy, but actually caring about the person was something else. Ron had often said that he didn't think the Slytherins were capable of feeling. Harry hoped like hell that his friend was wrong.
+++
Dinner was a quiet affair, if one discounted the loud sounds coming from the rest of the Great Hall. It was usual for people to talk, to scream a bit when someone tried to poke them without being seen, and there was always some food that ended up on the floor. Harry used to love talking to others (when they weren't convincing themselves that he was really evil, or the heir of Slytherin, or some other such nonsense). He loved the feel of people around him who didn't hate his guts the way the Dursleys did.
But now it was as if he could only focus on Draco. All his thoughts were becoming centered on the blonde: every flicker of a muscle, of a smile, of a look...all got catalogued into his brain. As ridiculous a notion as he knew it to be, it was as if he could smell Draco. The blonde smelled clean, groomed, and just overall wonderful. He felt compelled to move across and get closer, but he knew it would look odd. He'd have to pace himself and wait for the duration of dinner before being summoned to the dungeons to begin lessons.
It began to grow more and more difficult as he began to sense Draco's grey eyes on him, dark and hooded in their thoughts. He couldn't tell what Draco was thinking but he didn't care, as long as those eyes didn't leave him. He looked back until Ron elbowed him and reminded him that he was staring at Slytherins and that it looked odd - and, above all else, that he should "stop it." Harry grunted a reply, ignoring the hidden concern in Hermione's gaze.
When Dumbledore raised his hands indicating that the meal was over, Harry couldn't remember feeling nearly as happy in weeks. He was going to see Draco again. Snape, too, but that didn't matter. The verbal jousts of the Slytherin Head of House were more than worth it if it meant quenching some of the burning thoughts in his mind.
+++
Grey eyes darken in the light. It seemed impossible to Harry that Draco's light eyes could look so similar to Snape's beetle-black ones, but he knew it was so. There were changes going on within himself and within Draco. It wasn't until Draco laid a shaky hand on his shoulder, following Snape's directions to have them stand before one another, that Harry realised the Slytherin was feeling just as nervous as he was.
"Stand still," said Snape, his voice ringing out in the room.
Harry could feel his feet wavering already, threatening to collapse as he fought his body. There was something entirely too appealing about Draco right then, something that offered rest from all the other bad things in his life. It was almost as if Draco held some sort of hope that no one else could offer.
From the way Draco was biting his lower lip, Harry could read his thoughts to some extent. The space between them wasn't more than a few inches, but Draco's fingers kept twitching, with the blonde flexing every now and again, as if trying to break the impulse to touch, for he'd let his hand drop from Harry's shoulder the moment Snape had given his command.
Harry could hear the swish of robes behind and around him as he focused on nothing but the grey sea of Draco's eyes. A thin film of sweat was beginning to develop all over his body. He gritted his teeth, hoping that Snape would break the trance, the spell, or whatever it was he'd done to them.
Harry flinched as he felt the calloused hand gripping his own and placing it with Draco's soft, warm one. The blonde's hands were nearly as sweaty as Harry's, something that would normally have caused a slight feeling of disgust within the Gryffindor, but it was different now. He was too grateful for the contact to care about anything else. Draco let out a breath and slumped against him.
"What is happening to us?" asked Harry, half-whispering, not sure he wanted Snape to hear.
Snape looked at Draco, whose eyes were closed, his mouth open, releasing pants of relief into the air. "Mr. Malfoy, please wait outside the classroom."
Draco's eyes opened and Harry protested. But Snape did something, conveyed some invisible sign with his eyes, and Draco stood taller, using his hands to steady his way out of the room. Harry looked after him somewhat mournfully, wishing that he could help support the other boy, though he realised as he fell into a chair that perhaps he should focus on getting a little support himself before offering any to Draco.
"Professor, I don't understand," said Harry, struggling to keep his eyes open. He felt so drained, as if he'd never be fully awake again. "I-"
"Be quiet and I will explain," cut in Snape, giving Harry a sharp look. Harry grumbled but Snape, for one of the only times Harry could remember, ignored it. "You have chosen to sacrifice yourself," began Snape, standing at the front of the room as if giving a personal lesson to Harry.
"Not officially," muttered Harry.
"Yes, officially," snapped Snape. He looked tired and worn, and Harry realised that some of what he and Draco had felt had caused Snape to feel some sort of anguish. It seemed a preposterous notion, and yet Harry knew it to be the truth.
"What do you mean?" asked Harry, his mind blank, his body still missing Draco more than he'd ever missed anyone before in his life.
Snape's lip curled as he gave an empty, small sort of smile. "Dumbledore told you what was involved: a sacrifice. I don't know why you've agreed to it, but you have, and, unfortunately for you, there is no breaking your verbal seal."
"My what?" interrupted Harry.
Snape glared and Harry crouched lower in his chair, wishing for his invisibility cloak so he could sneak away. "Last night you spoke to Mr. Malfoy and gave your agreement. That agreement is binding, Potter." Snape paused in thought, as if pondering how to proceed. "You wil not tell Draco about this, or the magic will be broken. It needs to be pure sacrifice. If you tell him, there is no knowing whether or not it will work. Do you understand? You mustn't tell him!"
The last words were spoken so forcefully that Harry couldn't speak for a good few seconds. He felt the anger at Snape's deliberance rising within him, but he tried to curb it. If Snape was right, he would need the Potions professor in order to make the change, to give Draco a new start.
"Fine," he said eventually.
"You won't be just saving Draco," said Snape, reading Harry's mind. "Your sacrifice will only affect him if you succeed in saving others. If you succeed in this new training, you will know what that entails. I cannot explain it to you, nor would I want to."
Harry bristled. "I'm sorry I'm such a burden, sir," he growled, rolling his eyes.
Snape stood before Harry, his eyes calm and detached. He reached out one finger, tracing the scar as his lips formed wordless shapes as Harry felt something change within him. His world suddenly tipped, his vision blurred even with his glasses on, and he went limp.
"The change begins tonight," said Snape, his voice cold and low. "You will depend on Mr. Malfoy for most of your changes. I cannot help you with that, and he is more than willing." Snape's words began to feel hollow, echoing off into nothingness. Harry could feel his hands on his knees, but could not move them. He felt still and alone, the gloomy nature of the dungeons beginning to wear on his being. Snape said a few more words and then disappeared, and Harry felt as if he'd gone catatonic. It wasn't until he'd felt the nudge of Draco's knee, and then the terrified fingers running through his hair, over his neck, shaking him angrily that he regained his mind.
"Sorry," he said apologetically, feeling sheepish. He looked at Draco, whose lips were drawn into a thin line.
"What did you do to him?" he asked, still looking at Harry though he'd directed his question at Snape.
"He did it to himself," said Snape. "You'll need to help him avoid it in the future."
"But what is it?" asked Draco once more as he helped Harry to his feet.
"I cannot tell you," said Snape. He handed something to Draco, something golden and small and light. It shone through Draco's hand, which was clenched tightly around it. "Go with him. I can't teach you the first step - you must learn it together."
"And if we fail?" asked Draco. Harry marvelled at how collected the blonde sounded, as if they'd always been friends, as if he weren't about to pass out, as if it was the most rational thing in the world to feel insane hunger for another person's touch and feel lost without it.
Snape didn't answer. Instead, the Potions master steered them towards a door Harry had never seen before, a thin door that was almost unseeable. Harry had never seen it, and it was only when Draco forced the light in the palm of his hand against it that Harry saw the outline clearly. Draco pushed their way inside and Snape closed the door behind them.
"I feel weak," said Harry in a thin voice. His eyes kept closing and his body felt as if it were swimming with millions of things he couldn't name. Draco's hands at his shoulders were comforting and warm. Harry tried to look at the Slytherin, to thank him, to just say something. Draco, however, seemed more intent at getting him to rest on the bed towards the corner of the room.
"'msorry," were the last words Harry said before he felt Draco encompass his body, holding him as he slept, recuperating.
+++
TO BE CONTINUED.
Author: malfoil
Pairing: H/D
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: JK owns everything in here pretty much.
A/N: This is chapter seven. I hope you like it!
The day passed quickly. Harry didn't have any classes with Draco which only served to make him even more nervous about the next night, when he would begin his new training. He had no idea whatsoever what such learning would encompass, if it would be painful, or if Dumbledore really knew what was going on. His palms felt warm, too warm, all day long and he'd snapped at both Ron and Hermione more times than he could count. They'd both seemed surprised at his attitude, but there was nothing he could do, no explanation he could give.
Already he was beginning to feel the changes within himself. He knew he wasn't doing this just for himself. As fast as everything seemed to be occuring in his life, change-wise, he just couldn't stop thinking about the pale face, the scowling grey eyes and the long, manicured hands that fascinated him. To be fair, more and more of Draco was beginning to fascinate him. He felt somewhat foolish for all his giddiness, but it was the most alive he'd felt in a while. He could only hope that whatever Snape's training would be, that it wouldn't take that feeling away.
He may not have loved Draco just yet, but he cared for him. He could see that Draco, in his own way, was beginning to come around. Harry wasn't sure if the blonde actually cared for him or if it was just a mind game, or a test of some sort, but he was going to make an effort to find out. Rubbing up against one another was an act almost any student could enjoy, but actually caring about the person was something else. Ron had often said that he didn't think the Slytherins were capable of feeling. Harry hoped like hell that his friend was wrong.
+++
Dinner was a quiet affair, if one discounted the loud sounds coming from the rest of the Great Hall. It was usual for people to talk, to scream a bit when someone tried to poke them without being seen, and there was always some food that ended up on the floor. Harry used to love talking to others (when they weren't convincing themselves that he was really evil, or the heir of Slytherin, or some other such nonsense). He loved the feel of people around him who didn't hate his guts the way the Dursleys did.
But now it was as if he could only focus on Draco. All his thoughts were becoming centered on the blonde: every flicker of a muscle, of a smile, of a look...all got catalogued into his brain. As ridiculous a notion as he knew it to be, it was as if he could smell Draco. The blonde smelled clean, groomed, and just overall wonderful. He felt compelled to move across and get closer, but he knew it would look odd. He'd have to pace himself and wait for the duration of dinner before being summoned to the dungeons to begin lessons.
It began to grow more and more difficult as he began to sense Draco's grey eyes on him, dark and hooded in their thoughts. He couldn't tell what Draco was thinking but he didn't care, as long as those eyes didn't leave him. He looked back until Ron elbowed him and reminded him that he was staring at Slytherins and that it looked odd - and, above all else, that he should "stop it." Harry grunted a reply, ignoring the hidden concern in Hermione's gaze.
When Dumbledore raised his hands indicating that the meal was over, Harry couldn't remember feeling nearly as happy in weeks. He was going to see Draco again. Snape, too, but that didn't matter. The verbal jousts of the Slytherin Head of House were more than worth it if it meant quenching some of the burning thoughts in his mind.
+++
Grey eyes darken in the light. It seemed impossible to Harry that Draco's light eyes could look so similar to Snape's beetle-black ones, but he knew it was so. There were changes going on within himself and within Draco. It wasn't until Draco laid a shaky hand on his shoulder, following Snape's directions to have them stand before one another, that Harry realised the Slytherin was feeling just as nervous as he was.
"Stand still," said Snape, his voice ringing out in the room.
Harry could feel his feet wavering already, threatening to collapse as he fought his body. There was something entirely too appealing about Draco right then, something that offered rest from all the other bad things in his life. It was almost as if Draco held some sort of hope that no one else could offer.
From the way Draco was biting his lower lip, Harry could read his thoughts to some extent. The space between them wasn't more than a few inches, but Draco's fingers kept twitching, with the blonde flexing every now and again, as if trying to break the impulse to touch, for he'd let his hand drop from Harry's shoulder the moment Snape had given his command.
Harry could hear the swish of robes behind and around him as he focused on nothing but the grey sea of Draco's eyes. A thin film of sweat was beginning to develop all over his body. He gritted his teeth, hoping that Snape would break the trance, the spell, or whatever it was he'd done to them.
Harry flinched as he felt the calloused hand gripping his own and placing it with Draco's soft, warm one. The blonde's hands were nearly as sweaty as Harry's, something that would normally have caused a slight feeling of disgust within the Gryffindor, but it was different now. He was too grateful for the contact to care about anything else. Draco let out a breath and slumped against him.
"What is happening to us?" asked Harry, half-whispering, not sure he wanted Snape to hear.
Snape looked at Draco, whose eyes were closed, his mouth open, releasing pants of relief into the air. "Mr. Malfoy, please wait outside the classroom."
Draco's eyes opened and Harry protested. But Snape did something, conveyed some invisible sign with his eyes, and Draco stood taller, using his hands to steady his way out of the room. Harry looked after him somewhat mournfully, wishing that he could help support the other boy, though he realised as he fell into a chair that perhaps he should focus on getting a little support himself before offering any to Draco.
"Professor, I don't understand," said Harry, struggling to keep his eyes open. He felt so drained, as if he'd never be fully awake again. "I-"
"Be quiet and I will explain," cut in Snape, giving Harry a sharp look. Harry grumbled but Snape, for one of the only times Harry could remember, ignored it. "You have chosen to sacrifice yourself," began Snape, standing at the front of the room as if giving a personal lesson to Harry.
"Not officially," muttered Harry.
"Yes, officially," snapped Snape. He looked tired and worn, and Harry realised that some of what he and Draco had felt had caused Snape to feel some sort of anguish. It seemed a preposterous notion, and yet Harry knew it to be the truth.
"What do you mean?" asked Harry, his mind blank, his body still missing Draco more than he'd ever missed anyone before in his life.
Snape's lip curled as he gave an empty, small sort of smile. "Dumbledore told you what was involved: a sacrifice. I don't know why you've agreed to it, but you have, and, unfortunately for you, there is no breaking your verbal seal."
"My what?" interrupted Harry.
Snape glared and Harry crouched lower in his chair, wishing for his invisibility cloak so he could sneak away. "Last night you spoke to Mr. Malfoy and gave your agreement. That agreement is binding, Potter." Snape paused in thought, as if pondering how to proceed. "You wil not tell Draco about this, or the magic will be broken. It needs to be pure sacrifice. If you tell him, there is no knowing whether or not it will work. Do you understand? You mustn't tell him!"
The last words were spoken so forcefully that Harry couldn't speak for a good few seconds. He felt the anger at Snape's deliberance rising within him, but he tried to curb it. If Snape was right, he would need the Potions professor in order to make the change, to give Draco a new start.
"Fine," he said eventually.
"You won't be just saving Draco," said Snape, reading Harry's mind. "Your sacrifice will only affect him if you succeed in saving others. If you succeed in this new training, you will know what that entails. I cannot explain it to you, nor would I want to."
Harry bristled. "I'm sorry I'm such a burden, sir," he growled, rolling his eyes.
Snape stood before Harry, his eyes calm and detached. He reached out one finger, tracing the scar as his lips formed wordless shapes as Harry felt something change within him. His world suddenly tipped, his vision blurred even with his glasses on, and he went limp.
"The change begins tonight," said Snape, his voice cold and low. "You will depend on Mr. Malfoy for most of your changes. I cannot help you with that, and he is more than willing." Snape's words began to feel hollow, echoing off into nothingness. Harry could feel his hands on his knees, but could not move them. He felt still and alone, the gloomy nature of the dungeons beginning to wear on his being. Snape said a few more words and then disappeared, and Harry felt as if he'd gone catatonic. It wasn't until he'd felt the nudge of Draco's knee, and then the terrified fingers running through his hair, over his neck, shaking him angrily that he regained his mind.
"Sorry," he said apologetically, feeling sheepish. He looked at Draco, whose lips were drawn into a thin line.
"What did you do to him?" he asked, still looking at Harry though he'd directed his question at Snape.
"He did it to himself," said Snape. "You'll need to help him avoid it in the future."
"But what is it?" asked Draco once more as he helped Harry to his feet.
"I cannot tell you," said Snape. He handed something to Draco, something golden and small and light. It shone through Draco's hand, which was clenched tightly around it. "Go with him. I can't teach you the first step - you must learn it together."
"And if we fail?" asked Draco. Harry marvelled at how collected the blonde sounded, as if they'd always been friends, as if he weren't about to pass out, as if it was the most rational thing in the world to feel insane hunger for another person's touch and feel lost without it.
Snape didn't answer. Instead, the Potions master steered them towards a door Harry had never seen before, a thin door that was almost unseeable. Harry had never seen it, and it was only when Draco forced the light in the palm of his hand against it that Harry saw the outline clearly. Draco pushed their way inside and Snape closed the door behind them.
"I feel weak," said Harry in a thin voice. His eyes kept closing and his body felt as if it were swimming with millions of things he couldn't name. Draco's hands at his shoulders were comforting and warm. Harry tried to look at the Slytherin, to thank him, to just say something. Draco, however, seemed more intent at getting him to rest on the bed towards the corner of the room.
"'msorry," were the last words Harry said before he felt Draco encompass his body, holding him as he slept, recuperating.
+++
TO BE CONTINUED.