Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Another Life ❯ Higglety, Pigglety ( Chapter 17 )

Warnings: Yaoi/Slash, Angst, DARK themes, Backstabbing, Incest, Yuri/Fem-slash, and other various nastiness. Hard R rating.


Disclaimer: Ain't mine.

Chapter 17


Higglety, Pigglety

Molly Weasley had never been so terrified in her entire life. Her face was sore and hot from crying and her body ached from the trembling that had raged her only an hour prior. Arthur had tried to comfort her, but even he was so overcome with grief that he could only hold her in his arms and worry as well. They listened to the reassurances from the others, but could not actually take them as proof.

Ron, Ginny, and Hermione were gone.

She had failed them. Molly knew this, deeply within her, to be true. She had failed her youngest children and her adopted daughter and now they were gone. No amount of words would soothe her of that. She had failed them and now they were gone.

Dumbledore had come before and given them assurances that the children would be found. Molly didn't believe him. She wanted to, rather desperately, but she simply...couldn't. Wouldn't. In her mind, those three young ones were gone forever. Whether they left on their own or were taken away, she didn't know. If the latter, she would rip them to bloody pieces and then feed them to pigs. If they'd gone on their own... Well... Ron and Hermione were seventeen. She could not make them come back. Ginny was sixteen, but she only had a few months of that left. Molly felt helpless and that was a feeling she simply abhorred.

When night came, Molly got up and led her husband to their bedroom. They got themselves ready to sleep and then laid down upon the old, worn bed.

"They're with Harry," said Arthur softly. Molly closed her eyes and pressed her cheek against his chest, feeling his upon her hair.

"I hope," she whispered back. "Merlin, I hope..."

They said nothing more, though sleep did not come.

----

Harry felt deja vu. He sat at the end of the table, staring down at his plate to keep from looking at the creature at the other end of the table. He didn't want to be there, but Snape had urged him to take the invitation so he had, but he still didn't want to be there. With his fork, he pushed food around the plate. He'd been hungry before he found out about this arrangement. Now, his stomach was tying up in knots and he felt like vomiting, though he knew there was nothing within his stomach.

"Eat."

Green eyes lifted and gazed down the table. Harry didn't know how to deal with this...version of the demon he had hated his entire life. Hell, he didn't even know if any Death Eater would take his life now. Still, that little part inside him that wasn't completely numb, wasn't totally hidden away in some deep, dark oasis of his soul, cried out for defiance.

"No."

Harry was actually more surprised by his own voice than Voldemort at the lack of willingness. He set down his fork and pushed the plate away a few inches before dropping his hands into his lap. He stared at Voldemort with nothing on his face. The Dark Lord watched him quietly, his head resting on one hand while the other set down his fork as well.

"If you will not eat, then we will talk," he said with finality. Harry didn't answer, but he hadn't gotten up to leave and Voldemort took that as proof that he may at least listen. He'd only eaten a small portion of his own dinner, but the Dark Lord was feeling...nervous, actually. "Severus tells me that you have 'awakened', so to speak, from a walking coma and that you are now fully aware of your situation."

Harry only stared at him.

"I wish you to understand that I have no further wish to harm you." He expected Harry to kick up some kind of fuss, but the teenager was absolutely silent. "Certain information brought to my attention has made that an...unappealing outcome to our interactions."

"What do you want from me?"

Voldemort thought about this because Harry deserved a well formed reply. "I want you to be safe, feel safe, and know you are safe, always."

"Why?"

"Because I do."

Harry looked back down at his plate. "That's bullshit."

"Language." Green eyes shot him a dirty look and Voldemort almost reprimanded him for that as well. He didn't and that was probably a better idea. He didn't know how Harry would react to that. He didn't know how he would react to anything, really.

"Are you still going to purify the world?"

Voldemort stared at the child, taken aback. He said nothing, sitting very still under Harry's relentless gaze.

"If you are then I will kill you," the boy said firmly. "I don't care if I die as well, just as long as you're dead."

His eyes burned with hate and though he was happy to see emotion at all within those green eyes, it still wounded the heart Voldemort would once have sworn was dead.

"I know."

Harry nodded and got up. "Good night."

"Good night."

The boy left. Voldemort rested his head in his hands, closing his eyes.

"Good night," he repeated in the softest of whispers, "my son."

----

Hermione stopped walking a little after midnight. They'd left on the Knight Bus, which got them as close to where she wanted to go as the bus would go. Stan warned them that there was nothing but muggles in the area, but Hermione was sure that this was it so Ginny and Ron only gave Stan an indulgent smile before following her out. All each had was a knapsack on their backs with a change of clothing and a bit of food. Hermione didn't plan on being out for long.

The countryside was vast and few lived close to anyone else. That worked well for their purposes. Ron put up the tent and the three curled in inside for a few hours of rest before they headed off again. Hermione led, the map held tightly in one hand and the string-and-sickle in the other. She'd explained nothing but Ron and Ginny were sure that following her was the best option. If anything, they could watch her back as she was so focused she'd likely miss an attack at point blank range. When Ginny tried to ask her what she was up to, Hermione had responded in some kind of technobabble that neither Weasley child understood. They caught about every third word, but none of it made any sense. Hermione was and had always been on a level far higher than themselves when it came to sheer knowledge. If she didn't get hired for the Ministry's research branch, it would only be because someone powerful excluded her on purpose.

Suddenly, Hermione stopped cold. Ginny nearly ran into her but managed to stumble back a step. She peeked past Hermione and spotted a tall, strong fence but couldn't see anything beyond it.

Hermione smiled. "We found it."

A moment later, there was a wand pressed to the back of her head and four more robed figures surrounding them.

----

Chess had become an evening ritual within Malfoy Manor. Who played changed each night, but more often than not, it was Harry. He had never been particularly good at it but he wasn't horrible and it was found that he possessed one of the more careful playing styles in the house. Draco still beat him most of the time and Narcissa maintained a winning streak, but Harry still tried his best and he was getting better.

Harry was winning tonight but Draco chalked it up to inattention on his part. His thoughts kept straying for he had realized there were only three weeks until school started. Three weeks until he had to pull on his mask again and become something of a terror. It bothered him but it had to be done. What worried him was that Harry might not understand that change. The other boy was fully aware now, yes, but still sensitive, still fragile as ever and it scared Draco to think he might inadvertently drive Harry back into the delusions. He wasn't even sure Harry would be allowed to go back to school at all.

“Checkmate.”

Draco blinked back into reality and stared down at the board. Harry frowned at him.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing. Just thinking.”

“Did it hurt?”

Draco scowled. “Prat.”

Harry gave an amused little smile. The nice evening was abruptly broken when Narcissa stepped into the main living room.

"Harry, Draco, follow me," she said and her voice was rather serious. Both boys got up to follow immediately. Narcissa led them through the halls and into a wing Harry hadn't been in before. It was older, more of the priceless and questionable artifacts of the Malfoy family housed in rooms with no doors, but that seemed to be protected anyway. Harry tried not to look at them. He really didn't want to lose the image of the Malfoys he'd been building the last few days. It would probably trigger some kind of regression he didn't want to experience.

They stopped at an actual door and Narcissa went through without a word. The boys followed, each curious and a little apprehensive over what might be the reason... Harry stopped dead.

"What the...?" Draco started, lifting a brow. "Since when do we let Weasleys and Mudbloods into our house?"

"Language," Narcissa said quietly, glancing towards Harry. The boy just stared. Narcissa's guards had brought in the three teenagers once they'd been stupefied and placed them in the holding cell. The cells rarely got use anymore since Lucius was incarcerated but they were still kept up in case. The three laid on cots next to one another, still stupefied to keep them from causing trouble.

"What are they doing here?" Harry asked in a quiet, shocked voice. He had almost managed to forget the world outside Malfoy Manor but seeing them brought it abruptly back to him. He felt overwhelmed and then disappointed in himself for not being happy to see his friends. What was wrong with him...? Was he so caught up in his own drama that he couldn't take someone intruding into it...?

Draco gave him a worried glance that Narcissa felt inside before she primly clasped her hands in front of her.

"I can send them away."

Harry looked up at her and for a moment, she thought he might let her. His stare was pained and scared and confused and tore at something within her that she'd only felt for her own son before. He looked back at his friends and then took a slow, steady breath.

"No. They'd come back."

Draco did not mention that they could send the prats away every time they came. He would have relished in it. After all, with them here, what was to stop Harry from going to them when he needed someone in his space? What was to stop him from deciding that he, Draco, was useless to him? They would try very hard to take this budding...thing between them away, Draco was sure of it.

Narcissa ordered that rooms be made up for the three and they were moved into them as soon as they were ready. Before Draco could disappear somewhere to sulk, Harry grabbed his arm. Draco looked back, but Harry's eyes were on the still forms of his friends as the house elves took them away. He didn't move until they were out of sight, then turned to Draco with his face utterly blank.

"Chess?"

If he hadn't spoken, Draco would never have known how torn up Harry was feeling inside. That small word was barely held together at all, as if the single syllable had had to be pried out at great cost to its speaker. Draco nodded his agreement before he realized it. After a moment, Harry look away and started back for the oasis that was the chessboard. When he played, he didn't have to think about anything else. It was like being asleep again and Harry wished not for the first time that he was still in the haze.

They sat down and put the pieces in place. Draco moved first and the game was one. It was silent except for the scrape of pieces moving and breaking. Predictably, Draco won so they set up and went again. It was far into the night before Harry finally relented and the boys went to bed.

Draco lay awake under the sheets for a long while and thought about the need in his voice when Harry had said the word 'chess'.

----

Ginny awoke in pre-dawn. She sat up and stared at the unfamiliar room around her. It was grand, rich beyond what she'd seen before, but it seemed too alien to really appreciate. Ginny climbed out of the bed and stood by it as she continued to look around. A sound caught her off guard. She turned towards one of the two doors out and saw the light underneath. Tensing, she stared at it, listening to the shuffling of someone behind. And then the door opened and Harry Potter stepped out.

He looked tired, but more alive than the last time she saw him. Her first urge was to throw her arms around him and hug him forever, but something kept her from it. Perhaps it was the way he looked at her as he stood in the doorway. Perhaps it was the air around him of seclusion. He turned off the light and shut the bathroom door.

"Harry," she said softly, as if afraid to break the fantasy that he was really there with her, alive and well.

"Ginny," he responded in a quiet, almost blank voice. He didn't look happy to see her, but he didn't seem completely unpleased. Later on, she would wonder if this was what made her suddenly ragingly angry.

"You're a bloody prat, Harry Potter!" she yelled suddenly, storming over to him. His head jerked around when she slapped him hard and there wasn't even a flash of guilt within her. "We were worried about you! How dare you not contact us? How dare you make Hermione cry? How dare you be here and whole and fine when we were so very afraid for you?"

Harry turned his head and stared at her silently. Ginny didn't know she was crying until her face was pressed to his chest and she felt the warm wetness soak into his shirt. Harry didn't move, staring down at the top of her head, but she didn't need him to.

"You bloody prat..."

She shut her eyes tightly as her hands curled in his shirt. She wanted to hug him again, to assure herself that yes, he was there, but she didn't. And there, in that little place that had never healed from her first infatuation, a tiny voice sprang up to do more than just hug him. It was joined by another, darker part that whispered little fears in her ears when Hermione denied her and hid their relationship, whispering to do something, anything, to make her jealous, to cut Hermione as she was cut. Ginny felt a shiver run down her back at such dark thoughts. She tried to make them go away, but they never did for long.

Ginny jumped a little when she felt a thin hand move to rest upon her head, fingers sliding into her hair. It felt so very...strange. She didn't dare move, didn't want to give Harry a reason to let go. It scared her just how good that tiny little contact felt. It scared her to think someone other than Hermione could affect her this way, especially when that someone was Harry Potter, the first boy she'd fallen for.

"I'm sorry."

She looked up and he was still staring at her with that lack of...lack of the familiar warmth in his face.

"I'm sorry," he repeated when she didn't say anything. She shook her head a little and moved away from him, rubbing at her eyes a bit. She hadn't cried, but her eyes were still wet anyway.

"No, it's okay. It's not your fault."

He nodded a bit, folding his arms over his chest. “Breakfast is at nine.”

With that, he started for the second door and opened it, revealing a hallway beyond.

“Harry!” she called before he could leave. He looked back, waiting. “I'm glad you're okay.”

“I'm not,” he replied quickly, green eyes showing nothing. “But I'm getting that way.”

And then he really did leave. Ginny sat down on the edge of the bed and hoped he was telling the truth.

----

The boy was barely eleven years old. So young, so angry at the world, yet, so willing to give up anything for something better, something more fulfilling. He didn't care what he had to do to escape his situation.

“Hello, Tom. It's nice to meet you.”

The boy stared with those dark eyes, mistrusting and yet wanting so much to trust. Rather amusing, really, but perfect for his purposes. So easily twisted, this one would be.

“What do you want?”

“I think you know the answer to that, my boy.”

Brown eyes narrowed but he didn't back down. Too spirited.

“You know I'm special,” he said confidently.

“Yes, I do.” He smiled and the boy didn't, but he could tell that it had made the child happy to hear. “I've come to offer you a place at my school.”

“You'll help me control it then? The… the magic?” `Magic' said in such a little whisper made it sound far more magical than he'd ever though before. Odd.

“Yes. You'll be with others like yourself.”

“Where is it?”

“Far away.” Brown eyes glimmered with excitement.

“Do I have to come back here?”

He was quiet for a bit and saw as some of the enthusiasm drained from Tom's face.

“I do, don't I?”

“Yes. Each summer.”

“But the rest of the time, I can be away, right?”

“Yes.”

Tom was quiet for a bit, thinking deeply to himself. A little wrinkle appeared between his dark brows. It took longer than he thought it would for the boy to respond and then it was something he'd expected.

“I don't have any money.”

“There is help available.”

Tom nodded a little and straightened up, his face far too serious for his age. “I accept your offer.”

“Wonderful.”