Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Beneath a Shattered Fountain ❯ Beneath a Shattered Fountain ( Chapter 1 )

Beneath A Shattered Fountain

by KC

Disclaimer: I wish I owned Harry, Draco and all the rest; they'd do a lot more stuff than they do in the books and it'd all be rated R through X. Alas, however, I do not.

Other info: Post-HBP, dark!Harry, veela!Draco. Yes, there is sexxors in here, but not that much.

*

In the crumbling remains of the Ministry, deep in its underground floors, Harry heard broken sobs echoing through the wreckage. Taking the chance that the cracked marble floor could hold his weight, he chose the corridor in front of him and started walking, depending solely on his wand for light.

Huge chunks of the ceiling lay on the floor with more pieces occasionally breaking off around him. Decimated by the war, the upper levels of the Ministry building blazed out of control despite the muggles working hard at putting out the fires, while Harry wandered down here on the lower floors where the fighting had taken place, looking for survivors. He doubted he'd find anyone and both Ron and Hermione had told him not to come when the whole building could come crashing down at any moment, but several Death Eaters were still missing, among them Bellatrix Lestrange.

The sound of trickling water joined the crying as he walked closer. At the far end of the hallway, after climbing over huge slabs of broken marble that had jutted up from the floor, he gazed at the smashed remains of the Ministry's fountain. The centaur's human part stood cracked in half and a spell had melted the wizard into a lump as low as the jagged remains of the elf. Water spurted weakly at odd angles from the bent spouts, drenching the floor, the rubble, and the many bodies surrounding the fountain.

Torn robes and splayed limbs revealed the dark mark on every corpse. He wondered who had killed them and flicked his wand at each, turning them over to see their faces. Most of them he didn't recognize, but he breathed in slightly when he found Bellatrix. It was hard to recognize her face with half of it burned off and one eye missing, but she must have been caught by surprise because her mouth was still twisted in that familiar sneer. He knelt and stared, a little weight lifting from his shoulders. Even if he couldn't have the pleasure of killing her, here at least was the satisfaction of staring down at her bloody corpse.

The sobs suddenly grew quiet, as if the person crying had realized that someone else was here and didn't want to be found. Harry stood up and held his wand high, turning the hall as bright as day for a moment. His eyes widened as he spotted an angel fallen at the base of the fountain, lying in a puddle as cold water sprayed over him.

After a second glance, he realized it wasn't an angel, but whoever it was had wings set in the middle of his back, the feathers dirty and streaked with mud. Whether his robes had been torn off or if he simply couldn't wear a shirt because of those wings, Harry wasn't sure. Face down with his head buried in his arms, the angel curled up and extended a wing over his shoulder and head, trying to hide. Harry stood entranced for a moment, watching the bones move under the skin and wet feathers.

There was no blood on him, so Harry wondered why he was still on the floor. As he walked around, stepping into the cool spray, he winced to see the heavy stone pinning one wing to the floor.

Probably landed on him after the fight, he thought, looking at the bare white arms without a skull and snake, just a painful scar on the left arm. Scratches lined his shoulders and stomach, all a few days old. From this angle, he could see his white hair and the pale, pointed face that had mocked him for six years.

"Malfoy?"

No answer but the choked sobs grew thicker even though Draco tried to hide them. Harry aimed his wand at the boulder on Draco's wing and levitated it several feet into the air, tossing it aside once it was clear. Immediately the freed wing gave a feeble flap and Draco couldn't help looking at it and touching it gingerly with one hand. Acting on reflex, the other wing relaxed and pulled back, and Harry had an unblocked view of his drenched body. Torn and bloody, his black pants were soaked and skin tight. Harry swallowed once.

"Malfoy."

Draco darted a glance at him, cringing as Harry took a step closer. He tried to move away, but the smallest movement made his wing hurt and he whimpered as he hid his face again.

"What are you?" Harry knelt and softly ran his fingers over the uninjured wing. Even wet, muddy and shivering, it looked beautiful. At first it flinched at his touch but as he continued tracing the soft bones, gently petting the soft down, it relaxed under his fingers, even holding still when he stroked the edge of the longest feather. "Did Voldemort transform you?"

Draco still didn't answer but he cringed at the dark lord's name. Harry frowned. He didn't want Draco afraid of Voldemort.

"It's all right," Harry said. "I killed him. He's gone now, really gone. He can't hurt you anymore."

Sniffling, Draco peeked over his fingers at him. "He's dead?" he whispered, speaking with a slight stammer.

"And all his Death Eaters," Harry said. "I killed most of them. I wish I'd done in Bellatrix but I forgive you for getting her first. I think I'd forgive you anything."

He looked over his shoulder at the bodies around them, most of them still clutching their wands. It seemed like Draco had killed seven or eight all by himself, although he didn't see his wand anywhere. When he looked at Draco again, he found him sitting up and staring into the darkness, wincing at every ominous rumble. Harry narrowed his eyes. He didn't want Draco looking at anything but himself.

"I killed everyone in the Ministry, too," he said, pleased when Draco focused on him again. "All of them, not just the Death Eaters in disguise."

"All of them?" Draco whispered. His eyes widened and he felt his stomach tighten.

"Mm-hmm. After I killed Voldemort, I wasn't tired. I felt so full of energy and there were still lots of his followers to kill. Ron and Hermione helped me after Voldemort was dead, especially when some of the Order members turned on me. They didn't like it when I said I wanted to change a few things." Harry leaned closer, one hand closing too hard on his shoulder. "But I asked you a question. What are you?"

"I..."

"You didn't have wings before. Did someone do that to you?"

"No..." Draco gave a little shake of his head. "I...I turned seventeen, came of age."

"Malfoys sprout wings when they come of age? Does your father have wings?"

"No. It skipped him, even though he's--" He broke off as Harry leaned closer, but he made no move to stop him. He could only turn away from his burning green eyes.

Harry gently seized his chin and forced him to meet his gaze. "Answer me."

Trembling, Draco closed his eyes but he could still feel that stare. "Part veela. He didn't get wings, but I did." He winced as Harry grabbed his arms too roughly.

"Is that why I want to get closer to you?" Harry narrowed his eyes in suspicion and he tightened his grip.

"No," Draco shook his head quickly.

"Are you doing this on purpose?" Harry refused to let go. "Making me attracted? Are you?"

Water splashed on the floor as his wings spasmed and tried to beat. "I can't control it. Please, please let go! Harry, please!"

Hearing Malfoy plead, watching him squirm, having him beneath him like this, calling his name, all satisfied something in Harry that hadn't been satisfied when he killed the dark lord and everyone who'd stood against him afterwards. He let go but didn't move away, watching as Draco lowered his head. His wings folded up behind his back as if trying to make him look smaller.

"Part veela..." Harry mused. He wondered who in Draco's family had the blood, but it must have been a close relation. Even Fleur hadn't had wings. Such beautiful wings, they made Malfoy look like a real angel. He'd never heard of human-veela hybrids turning out this way. Draco must have been a rare occurrence, like a diamond among stones.

"Have you been down here alone all this time?" Harry asked softly, using his free hand to brush the hair from Draco's face, streaked with dirt and tears. "In the dark, with nothing but dead bodies for company? Soaked and freezing, too," he mused, following waterdrops from Draco's hair down his chest.

"All alone," Draco murmured. He closed his eyes and breathed in shakily. "I thought I was going to die. Are you going to leave me here?"

Harry thought that was a stupid question, but he supposed Draco had a good reason to be addled and scared. "No, I'm taking you with me." He smoothed Draco's hair and touched his cheek, pleased as Draco turned his face into his palm and sighed. Malfoy looked exhausted and utterly resigned, a complete change from the mocking, sneering bastard he'd been for years. Without hate and arrogance twisting his features, his pointed features became refined and elegant. His eyes fluttered from fatigue and his lips parted slightly.

Taking that as an invitation, Harry bent and pressed his lips to Draco's. With that touch, the constant muted attraction he'd felt towards the veela roared into jealous need. He crushed Draco against himself, his fingers threading through his hair and tightening into fists until the blonde cried out, wincing as his head was forced back so Harry could trail kisses down his throat. Against Harry's warm body, Draco shivered.

The walls around them shuddered and pebbles and dust showered down from upper levels, but Harry only cared about setting Draco back on the ground. Draco's soft skin, his damp eyes, and that hard pull he felt towards him all drove him to distraction, but Harry was not so lost that he would hurt his veela needlessly. Draco was beautiful. It would be a shame to break him.

He slid one hand under Draco's back between his shoulders, holding him up a few inches so that the wings lay spread out, making ripples in the water around them. He pushed the blonde's legs wide and eased between them. Blindly fumbling one-handed with the top of Draco's pants, he paused and glanced down when he realized that his pants were not buttoned but laced.

"What the hell?" Harry pulled one of the strings loose and yanked the laces apart. The scratches that lined Draco's body ended under the cloth, replaced by long welts on the soft skin. He put his hand over the welts and lined his fingers up with them. Eyes accusing, he glared at Malfoy only to feel his jealousy soften as Draco turned aside with fresh tears.

"Who did this?" When he didn't get an answer, he shook him once, oblivious to the veela's wince. "I said who did this? Tell me, Draco, I'll see he pays for touching you."

"You already did," Draco said, rubbing a cold hand across his eyes to wipe the tears away and smearing lines across his face. "You really killed the dark lord?"

"Of course." Harry raised a hand and touched Draco's cheek, tracing a finger to his lips. "I'd kill him again if you wanted me to." Another kiss fired his lust, and he started attacking Draco's pants once more.

"Wait..." Draco tried to grab Harry's wrist but he couldn't hold him. He gasped as Harry slid his hand into his pants and cupped him. "Not...not here, please. It's dangerous. The Ministry's crumbling--"

"There's no Ministry anymore," Harry said impatiently, only half listening. "Killed 'em."

"Merlin, please, it still hurts..."

"Damn laces..." He gave up trying to undo them and grabbed the hem.

As Harry started to the tear the pants at the seam, Draco realized trying to talk to him was useless and closed his eyes. "Apareil transparilous," he whispered.

"What?" Harry blinked.

"Apareil transparilous," Draco said. "It...it will take our clothes off."

A little suspicious but willing to try it if only to get past the veela's clothing, Harry grabbed his wand and pointed it at him. As soon as he said it, the pants shimmered and fluttered straight through Draco's body as if he wasn't there, settling on the ground in one piece. With a small smile, he repeated the spell and divested himself of his own clothes, laughing once when he saw Draco's widening eyes gazing at him.

"Useful little spell," he said. "Got any others?"

"Aise entre," Draco said, still staring at him. "Just on me."

"What does it do?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes.

"It just makes it hurt less," Draco said quickly. "So I won't tear."

Harry blinked. He'd always thought that boys could just take it without any problems, just like girls. He'd never considered otherwise. Later on he'd ask Hermione about veela and sex, once they'd settled into improving society.

"Please, Harry. It'll hurt if you don't."

His veela's wide, frightened eyes convinced him. Harry whispered the spell and felt Draco relax beneath him. The blonde's face didn't change, drawn up in anticipation, but knowing that he wasn't going to be torn apart on the inside calmed him a little. Harry touched his hair, brushing it out of his face, then bent and kissed him.

Draco shuddered under his touch. Infinitely gentler than the earlier kiss, he found himself giving into it with a sense of relief he'd never hoped for. Whatever Harry had let himself become, perhaps he wouldn't be another dark lord. Hope was something he'd given up on since coming into Voldemort's possession, but he gave into it again and opened his mouth, willingly letting Harry take what he wanted.

Above him, Harry smiled around the kiss. Forcing himself on the veela was nice, but having Draco give himself was nice, too. He slowly moved forward, settling Draco flat on the ground, and when the blonde winced in pain, Harry put one arm under him to hold him up so that his wings weren't pinned underneath him. He didn't know if Draco was shivering because of him or because of the water flowing around them, but as the veela spread his legs to accommodate him, he decided it didn't matter.

Trusting that Draco's spell would take care of him, Harry slowly pressed against his entrance. Hot, like fire surrounded by the cold cave of the crumbling Ministry halls. Harry hissed and drove further, easily holding Draco tight against himself. Malfoy was as light as the feathers on his back as Draco wound his arms around him. Harry wondered how someone so cool to the touch could be so hot inside.

Independent of Draco's will, his wings curled over and covered them, shielding them from the fountain's spray. Draco hissed as Harry moved, accustoming himself to his rhythm and size. No matter the discomfort he felt, it was nothing like his previous torment at Voldemort's hands. Harry enveloped him in warm skin with a soft touch, running a hand down his side and along his thigh, pulling Draco closer so he could drive in deeper. With a gasp, Draco's head fell back and he closed his eyes. It had never felt like this with anyone else. When Harry drove as far as he could, bent protectively over him and kissing away the scratches on his chest and shoulders, Draco stopped thinking.

It ended too soon for both of them. Draco came only with a soft cry, broken of screaming by a dark lord who didn't like loud toys. Harry came almost silently, shuddering against him for a moment and then gasping raggedly. He nearly fell on top of Draco but stopped when he felt him flinch. Harry smiled and looked into Draco's eyes.

"Why do I feel like this?" he whispered. "By all rights, I should hate you."

"I don't know," Draco said. "No one else ever reacted to me like this."

Violent rumbling overhead cut their conversation short. The floor underneath them started to shake and the walls started to buckle under the weight of the floors above. Large pieces of the ceiling came crashing down, flattening the broken statues of the fountain.

"I think the Ministry is finally coming apart," Harry said. He grabbed his wand and stood up, muttering a quick cleaning spell that he normally used for cleaning dirty clothes. It worked on skin well, he found. "I don't suppose you know a charm for getting dressed quickly?"

"It doesn't work that way, I'm afraid." Draco sat up and reached for his trousers, but a long crack ran through the floor several meters away with a thunderous clap. As more crashes echoed through the halls, he cringed and put his hands over his ears.

Harry settled for just pulling on his pants. Ever since the duel with Voldemort, the battle against his most loyal Death Eaters, and the subsequent fights against the Order and the Ministry, Harry took a casual attitude towards danger. He stuck his wand in his pocket and bent over Draco, scooping him up in his arms and making sure the white wings easily folded against his back.

"Hold on," he told him before they disappeared. The sound of his Apparation was swallowed as the Ministry finally collapsed in on itself, taking the bodies of Death Eaters and Ministry officials alike.

End